ANN.[Blankly.] Oh! [As WELLWYN strikes a match.] The samovar is lighted.[Taking up the nearly empty decanter of rum and going to the cupboard.] It's all right.He won't.
WELLWYN.We'll hope not.
[He turns back to his picture.]
ANN.[At the cupboard.] Daddy!
WELLWYN.Hi!
ANN.There were three bottles.
WELLWYN.Oh!
ANN.Well! Now there aren't any.
WELLWYN.[Abstracted.] That'll be Timson.
ANN.[With real horror.] But it's awful!
WELLWYN.It is, my dear.
ANN.In seven days.To say nothing of the stealing.
WELLWYN.[Vexed.] I blame myself-very much.Ought to have kept it locked up.
ANN.You ought to keep him locked up!
[There is heard a mild but authoritative knock.]
WELLWYN.Here's the Vicar!
ANN.What are you going to do about the rum?
WELLWYN.[Opening the door to CANON BERTLEY.] Come in, Vicar!
Happy New Year!
BERTLEY.Same to you! Ah! Ann! I've got into touch with her young husband--he's coming round.
ANN.[Still a little out of her plate.] Thank Go--Moses!
BERTLEY.[Faintly surprised.] From what I hear he's not really a bad youth.Afraid he bets on horses.The great thing, WELLWYN, with those poor fellows is to put your finger on the weak spot.
ANN.[To herself-gloomily.] That's not difficult.What would you do, Canon Bertley, with a man who's been drinking father's rum?
BERTLEY.Remove the temptation, of course.
WELLWYN.He's done that.
BERTLEY.Ah! Then-- [WELLWYN and ANN hang on his words] then Ishould--er ANN.[Abruptly.] Remove him.
BERTLEY.Before I say that, Ann, I must certainly see the individual.
WELLWYN.[Pointing to the window.] There he is!
[In the failing light TIMSON'S face is indeed to be seen pressed against the window pane.]
ANN.Daddy, I do wish you'd have thick glass put in.It's so disgusting to be spied at! [WELLWYN going quickly to the door, has opened it.] What do you want? [TIMSON enters with dignity.He is fuddled.
TIMSON.[Slowly.] Arskin' yer pardon-thought it me duty to come back-found thish yer little brishel on me.[He produces the little paint brush.]
ANN.[In a deadly voice.] Nothing else?
[TIMSON accords her a glassy stare.]
WELLWYN.[Taking the brush hastily.] That'll do, Timson, thanks!
TIMSON.As I am 'ere, can I do anything for yer?
ANN.Yes, you can sweep out that little room.[She points to the model's room.] There's a broom in there.
TIMSON.[Disagreeably surprised.] Certainly; never make bones about a little extra--never 'ave in all me life.Do it at onsh, Iwill.[He moves across to the model's room at that peculiar broad gait so perfectly adjusted to his habits.] You quite understand me --couldn't bear to 'ave anything on me that wasn't mine.
[He passes out.
ANN.Old fraud!
WELLWYN."In" and "on." Mark my words, he'll restore the--bottles.
BERTLEY.But, my dear WELLWYN, that is stealing.
WELLWYN.We all have our discrepancies, Vicar.
ANN.Daddy! Discrepancies!
WELLWYN.Well, Ann, my theory is that as regards solids Timson's an Individualist, but as regards liquids he's a Socialist...or 'vice versa', according to taste.
BERTLEY.No, no, we mustn't joke about it.[Gravely.] I do think he should be spoken to.
WELLWYN.Yes, but not by me.
BERTLEY.Surely you're the proper person.
WELLWYN.[Shaking his head.] It was my rum, Vicar.Look so personal.
[There sound a number of little tat-tat knocks.]
WELLWYN.Isn't that the Professor's knock?
[While Ann sits down to make tea, he goes to the door and opens it.There, dressed in an ulster, stands a thin, clean-shaved man, with a little hollow sucked into either cheek, who, taking off a grey squash hat, discloses a majestically bald forehead, which completely dominates all that comes below it.]
WELLWYN.Come in, Professor! So awfully good of you! You know Canon Bentley, I think?
CALWAY.Ah! How d'you do?
WELLWYN.Your opinion will be invaluable, Professor.
ANN.Tea, Professor Calway?
[They have assembled round the tea table.]
CALWAY.Thank you; no tea; milk.
WELLWYN.Rum?
[He pours rum into CALWAY's milk.]
CALWAY.A little-thanks! [Turning to ANN.] You were going to show me some one you're trying to rescue, or something, I think.
ANN.Oh! Yes.He'll be here directly--simply perfect rotter.
CALWAY.[Smiling.] Really! Ah! I think you said he was a congenital?
WELLWYN.[With great interest.] What!
ANN.[Low.] Daddy! [To CALWAY.] Yes; I--I think that's what you call him.
CALWAY.Not old?
ANN.No; and quite healthy--a vagabond.
CALWAY.[Sipping.] I see! Yes.Is it, do you think chronic unemployment with a vagrant tendency? Or would it be nearer the mark to say: Vagrancy--WELLWYN.Pure! Oh! pure! Professor.Awfully human.
CALWAY.[With a smile of knowledge.] Quite! And--er--ANN.[Breaking in.] Before he comes, there's another--BERTLEY.[Blandly.] Yes, when you came in, we were discussing what should be done with a man who drinks rum--[CALWAY pauses in the act of drinking]--that doesn't belong to him.
CALWAY.Really! Dipsomaniac?
BERTLEY.Well--perhaps you could tell us--drink certainly changing thine to mine.The Professor could see him, WELLWYN?
ANN.[Rising.] Yes, do come and look at him, Professor CALWAY.
He's in there.
[She points towards the model's room.CALWAY smiles deprecatingly.]
ANN.No, really; we needn't open the door.You can see him through the glass.He's more than half--CALWAY.Well, I hardly--
ANN.Oh! Do! Come on, Professor CALWAY! We must know what to do with him.[CALWAY rises.] You can stand on a chair.It's all science.
[She draws CALWAY to the model's room, which is lighted by a glass panel in the top of the high door.CANON BERTLEY also rises and stands watching.WELLWYN hovers, torn between respect for science and dislike of espionage.]
ANN.[Drawing up a chair.] Come on!
CALWAY.Do you seriously wish me to?
ANN.Rather! It's quite safe; he can't see you.
CALWAY.But he might come out.
[ANN puts her back against the door.CALWAY mounts the chair dubiously, and raises his head cautiously, bending it more and more downwards.]
ANN.Well?
1
WELLWYN.Yes, that's all right!
