 First come, first served, by John Madison Morton. This is a LibriVox recording. All LibriVox recordings are in the public domain. For more information or to volunteer, please visit LibriVox.org. Dramatis personae. Colonel Challenger, read by Larry Wilson. Harry Barton, read by Max Shawnee. Basil Royston, read by Thomas Peter. Mrs. Templeton, read by Sonia. Julia Templeton, read by Devorah Allen. Josephine Templeton, read by Elsie Sawan. State Directions, by David Olsen. Scene, Mrs. Templeton's villa at Roe Hampton. Handsomely furnished apartments, large French window at center, looking on a garden. Doors, right hand and left hand. At right hand, a table, on which is an open album. At left center, another table, covered with papers, et cetera. Table, sofa, chairs, et cetera. Enter Mrs. Templeton at center, followed by Colonel Challenger. Cousin Martha, you are wrong, wrong, wrong. A thousand times wrong. Cousin Semuel, I'm right, right, ten thousand times right. Obstinate old woman. Pig-headed old man. What possible reason can you have for setting your face against Josephine Giddy married? It's downright tyranny. Call yourself Aunt Indeed. My reason is a very simple one. Her elder sister Julia must find a husband first. First come, first served, eh? Really, my dear Martha. I must say that for a sensible woman, you are by many degrees the most prejudiced and most self-willed, the most... Of course I am, but you know very well that when I once do make up my mind to anything... You stick to it like a fly to a catch-em-a-live-o. I don't choose that Julia should suffer what I did. I had a sister, Dorothy Jane, four years my junior, who married before I did. Do you think that was pleasant? Who supplied me with a sprinkling of nephews and nieces before I had a husband? Do you think that was pleasant? Who gave garden parties, balls, concerts to which all the world flocked and surrounded her with flattery, adulation while I was neglected, extinguished, regularly snuffed out? Do you think that was pleasant? Well, it is this humiliation that I am determined to spare Julia. Well, you didn't lose much by waiting, I'm sure. Tom Templeton was as good a creature as ever breathed. Didn't love long, poor fellow, but cut up remarkably well considering. Leaving his two nieces, his brother's children, to my charge, with ten thousand pounds each. As a wedding portion, which I must say you didn't seem in a hurry to part with. You know my conditions. You have only to find a husband for Julia. I? When she refused half the good-looking fellows within ten miles round, if she does mean to marry, she takes her time about it. That I will say. Never seems to occur to her that she's keeping her poor sister out in the cold. Oh, you may be mistaken, cousin. I spoke to Julia only yesterday, and she expressed herself in terms which convinced me that were she to receive a suitable offer? She had accepted. Well, I'm glad she's coming to her senses at last, and I shall go away all the more comfortable in my mind. Go away. Yes, I'm off back again to Cheltenham. Touch of gout, liver queer. Ah, besides, my work here is done. Your husband's affairs, which I confess, appeared to me at first sight to be in a state of hopeless confusion, are now orderly and satisfactorily arranged. Thanks to my young colleague Harry Barton, who, I must say, worked like a nigger over them. By and by he's another victim to Miss Julia's caprice and fastidiousness, as she actually snubbed the poor fellow before she'd time even to look at him, much less know him. Well, you'll confess he bears his disappointment with becoming resignation. Yes, he's getting used to it like the eels. He doesn't see the use of crying over spilt milk. By the by, there's another matter of 5,000 pounds coming to the girls out of the Hampshire property, but Barton will give you all the particulars. I'm sure, cousin, I feel deeply indebted to you. Not half as much as you ought to feel to Harry Barton. Hasn't he been here twice a week for the last month up to his elbows in leases, loans, mortgages, and the deuce knows what? Oh, here he comes. Enter Harry Barton at center, a roll of papers under his arm, a lawyer's blue bag in his hand, which he deposits on chair, bowing to Mrs. Templeton. Your servant, madam. To Colonel. Ah, my dear Colonel, I hope you're well. But perhaps I will apologize for entering unannounced. You may be engaged. Not at all. I am aware, Mr. Barton, how deeply I am in your debt. But now that the business, which served as your first introduction here, is satisfactorily concluded, pray remember my house is open to you as before. Barton vows. You will kindly excuse me now. A few orders to give. Courtesies and exit left hand. At the same moment the door at right hand opens and Josephine peeps in. Is the coast clear? Watching Mrs. Templeton as she goes out. She's gone at last. Runs in, Barton, meeting her. Joe, dear Joe. Taking her hand, which he is about to kiss. Wait a minute. Looking after Mrs. Templeton. She's quite disappeared. Now you may. Holding out her hand to Barton, who kisses it. And now. Turning to Colonel. You dear good kind old uncle. Uncle is it? Her cousin? I never know which. Don't you? It's simple enough. Your mother's elder brother's second. Ha ha, never mind. Call me uncle. Well, have you spoken to Aunt Martha? Yes, have you broken the ice? Cracked it, that's all. And what was the result? Did she consent or not? Did you say yes or no? Why don't you speak? Why don't you say something? How the deuce can I when you won't let me get in a word at ways? Well then, my poor young friends. Sorry I've no good news for you. The old story over again. Miss Julia stops the way. And yet, Mrs. Templeton's pressing invitation to me to visit at her house. Is easily explained. She doesn't even suspect that your affections have been transferred from her elder to her younger niece. Then you should have told her. Then there would have been an explosion. Yes, which you would have blown Master Harry clean out of the street door. No, no, don't despair. Julia'll find a husband. Sooner or later. Sooner or later? But what am I to do in the meantime? Yes, what are we to do in the meantime? I'm sure she's had plenty of offers. But one was too young. Another was too old. One was too rich. Another wasn't rich enough. Even poor Harry here, though he followed her around like a shadow and I'm sure made himself sufficiently ridiculous. Even he wasn't good enough for her ladyship. It's downright absurd being so particular. I'm sure I wasn't. No dear Joe, you took pity on me at once. No, not quite at once. I didn't jump at you. But what is to be done? Have patience. Patience? Haven't I been patient for the last five weeks? Five weeks and three days. Five weeks and three days? Oh, such an idea. Such a capital notion. Listen, Julia must find a husband or a husband must be found for Julia. That's a settled point. Quite so. Well then, as she sets her face against a young one. And turns up her nose at a handsome one. And turns up her nose at a handsome one. To Colonel. She might find you more to her taste. She might find me more to her. Seeing Josephine laughing. So Miss Sassy One, you're poking fun at me, are you? Then you'll be good enough to find another victim. I mean another admirer for Miss Julia. Hey, God, I must make haste to pack up or I shall lose my train. Come along with me, little one. Goodbye, Barton. Keep up your spirits. Recollect you've still got me. And me, Harry. Not yet, but you will. Excellent. Colonel and Josephine at door, right hand. Dear Josephine, what a contrast to her cold, insensitive face. What a contrast to her cold, insensible, apathetic sister. I, who loved her so sincerely, so devotedly, made such a thorough spoonie of myself. I was even weak enough to believe I was not quite indifferent to her. I confess I felt hurt, considerably hurt, infernally hurt. But if she flatter herself I should be inconsolable. She never was more mistaken in her life. She little dreamt how soon I should find a cure for my infatuation in the charms of her angelic sister, dear Josephine. And to think there's no hope of my calling her mine, till we find somebody to call her sister his. By the by, here are a few papers I must look over. Seating himself at table and opening papers, Royston heard without. Very well. Take my card to Mrs. Templeton. I'll wait. I'm in no hurry. Hey, Dey. Who have we here? Enter Basil Royston at centre. Coming down. Seeing Barton. I beg pardon, sir. Barton. Rising. Sir. I... Be seated, I beg. Not till you set me the example. Pointing to chair. They seat themselves. Like me, sir, you are doubtless waiting to see Mrs. Templeton. No, sir. Oh. One of the family, perhaps. Possibly a friend. Yes, sir. A friend. He's very inquisitive. Royston. Lucky Ned Elbom. What charming watercolours. Perfect gems. They are the work of Mrs. Templeton's elder niece. Are you an artist? No. Malyon Amateur. And you? A humble member of the legal profession. A lawyer, eh? I jove. He has a chance for me. I have half a mind to... He looks a very picture of good nature, and six and eight minutes won't ruin me. Might I venture, sir, on so very slight an acquaintance, to solicit your professional opinion? Barton Bowes. It is rather a delicate subject. A very peculiar subject. I'm all the attention, sir. Merely observing that the sooner you begin... The sooner I shall have done, exactly. Then I'll come to the point at once. I would ask you whether, in your opinion, a promise of marriage, written under a certain circumstances, and under certain conditions, must necessarily be binding? Such conditions, being... First and foremost, that the lady should have a head altered. I mean, have a head died. Which condition the lady has not complied with? No, sir. It is read as ever. Then, sir, I have no hesitation in saying that the promise falls to the ground. Thank you, sir. Seizing Barton's hand and shaking it. Aside and sighing. Oh, Sophia. May I inquire the name of my new client? Smiling. Royston. The Roystons of Bambury. Yes, Bambury. Where the caves come from. I was aware that Mrs. Templeton expected you on a matter of business. A certain sum of money, I believe. Yes, coming to the family from some Hampshire property. I imagined Mr. Royston was a much older person. I see. You mean Jonathan. Jonathan? Yes, my brother, the head of the firm. He's 20 years, my senior. But as he could not spare the time to come, he sent me. It's worth the trial. Decidely worth it. Looking the side at Royston. Young, gentlemanly, sufficiently good-looking. Good family. Here goes. Excuse my candour, but I think I guess you're motive in putting the professional question you did just now. You are the writer of the promise of marriage and your desires of contracting another alliance, eh? I don't care about it, but Jonathan does. Poor Sophia. Perhaps you have some party in view? No, but I'm on the lookout. And no doubt anxious to succeed? Not particularly, but Jonathan is. Perhaps that is the object of your visit here? Eh? Is there a marriageable young lady here? Yes. I should like to see her. Nothing more easy. What age? Twenty. Any fortune? Ten thousand. That'd just suit Jonathan. Pretty. Charming. That'd just suit me. Egot, suppose I try my luck. I've half a mind. Have a whole one. I have a notion you'll succeed. But I know nobody here. I beg your pardon. You know me. Eh? Know me for years. Royston, suddenly seen Barton's meaning. Of course I have. Ever since we were children. Babies. We went to the same school together. Of course we did. At Tumbridge Wells. Yes, at Bagnidge Wells. And we have been friends ever since. Boozom, friends. And you really do all you can to serve me. Of course I will. And myself at the same time. A thousand thanks, my dear. By the by, what shall I call you? Harry. And you? Basil. Grasping Barton's hand. Sophia might scratch your eyes out, but Jonathan will bless you. Hush. Seeing Miss Templeton, who enters at left hand. Sorry to have kept you waiting, Mr. Royston. I'm here, madam, as my brother's representative. I am aware of it. Mr. Barton, allow me to introduce to you... No necessity for it, madam. Basil is an old friend of mine. Yes, madam. I little thought of meeting an old school fellow here. Royston, shaking Barton's hand warmly. Some years ago now, eh, Tom? Harry. Harry. So you were school fellows, eh? Yes, madam, at Badminton Wells. Tunbridge. Of course, Tunbridge. You must have had some difficulty in recognizing each other. I had very considerable difficulty, I assure you. We should have met earlier, no doubt. But for my friend's length and absence in Italy. Significantly to Royston. Yes. Ah, charming country, for those who don't mind the cold. On a sign from Barton. I mean the heat. Mrs. Templeton, aside, and looking at Royston. Really, a vastly agreeable young man. Enter Colonel at right hand. So Royston has arrived, has he? I've seen Basil. Hey, Dave, why, this is Basil, his younger brother. At your service, Colonel. You are acquainted, then? I was intimate with his mother's family, indeed. I may say I was the means of getting him a nomination to the Blue Coat School. This is due, Stockwood. The Blue Coat School? I thought you said Tunbridge Wells. Royston, recollecting. Yes, that was before, I mean after. I suspect these young fellows are playing some little game of their own. And what's more, I can pretty well guess what it is. Mrs. Templeton, to Colonel. As Mr. Royston is an entire stranger to me, may I ask you, cousin Samuel, what is the opinion you have formed of him? Oh, a very charming young man indeed. Most respectable family. An ample income already, with great expectations from a couple of aunts and a godmother. A little wilder present, perhaps, but he'll soon settle down when he's married. Ah, happy the woman who makes the conquest of such a man. There now, I'm in the conspiracy too. Mrs. Templeton, to Royston. Your friend Mr. Barton does not leave here till tomorrow. You, I hope, will also defer your departure till then. Barton, quickly, to Royston. Of course you will. To Mrs. Templeton. Of course you will. To Royston. You'll only be too delighted. To Mrs. Templeton. He'll only be too delighted. Ah, here's my niece. Going up to meet Julia, who enters at centre. Royston, seeing Josephine, who at the same moment enters at right hand. Look, what a charming creature. No, no, it isn't she. It's the other. Look there. Pointing to Julia. There's a figure. There's a symmetry. Look at all those finely chiseled features. Yes, yes, but still in my opinion. Looking admiringly at Josephine. Your opinion indeed. Psh, what do you know about it? Josephine, aside the colonel, and pointing to Royston. What? Has Harry found somebody already? Julia, my dear. Allow me to present Mr. Royston, an old friend of Mr. Barton's. Julia, courtesy, stiffly to Royston. Barton, to Royston. There's a curtsy. That's what I call a curtsy. Yes, but as I said before, of the two I prefer. Looking at Josephine. You prefer indeed. Surely I must know better than you. To Julia. My friend Royston, a distinguished amateur of the fine arts, is in raptures with your sketches, Miss Julia. Julia, courtesy, stiffly again. Why don't you thank Mr. Royston's sister? Royston, aside to Barton. She's a sister, eh? Yes, a little harmless, insignificant schoolgirl. Still, I repeat, if I had to choose between them... Psh, my dear fellow, if you only knew what nonsense you're talking. Sound, I hope isn't going to fall in love with Josephine. Sorry to interrupt, but my time is precious and business must be attended to. Mr. Royston, will you step into the dining room with your papers? Barton, you'll come too. Josephine, hastily aside to Barton. I understand it all, Harriet, a very nice young man indeed, and likely to stand a good chance. Don't you think so? Where did you pick him up so soon? Psh, I'll explain everything another time. Colonel and Mrs. Templeton exeant at right hand, followed by Barton and Royston. Royston stops, turns, and makes a profound bow to Josephine. Barton pushes him out. I wonder what she thinks of him. A very gentlemanly young man, Mr. Royston, don't you think so, Julia? I scarcely looked at him. That's not very encouraging. How do you manage to find so many admirers? I can't. Julia, smiling. Hitherto, perhaps, I may have had the lion's share of attention, homage, and professed admiration. But your turn will come. It's a long time about it. You're so difficult to please, and poor Mr. Royston, I suppose, will be snubbed like the rest. Josephine, surely you don't imagine that there is some attraction for him here? Of course I do. It can't be Aunt Martha, nor I. I'm only a child. Josephine, you speak as though you were peaked. Next, I might almost say envious. Envious? I? Of what? Of what indeed. Ah, dear one, the privileges of an elder sister are not so enviable after all. What is often her lot, to be constantly exposed to flattery, adulation from the lips of strangers, compelling her to assume an extreme reserve in order to modify the exaggerated and, at times, indelicate encomiums of relatives and friends. What is the necessary result? Doubt, distrust, suspicion, nay, even prejudice, oftentimes unjust, against those who profess a desire to please. On this impulse I have acted, an impulse dictated by self-respect and due sense of my own dignity. What a serious tone. But just think how cruelly how unjustly you may have acted, and I'm sure as for Mr. Royston. Mr. Royston again? Silly child. Child? Perhaps I could mention a little fact that... But I won't. Goodbye to my secret if I did. Goodbye. Are you going to leave me too? Haven't I got to write out all the invitations for our ball on the 23rd? Your birthday. True. Yes, that is the professed reason, but of course it is on your account that it is given. Josephine. I know a younger sister's duty, Miss Templeton. Makes a low courtesy and exit, left hand. Josephine! Sister! Did she but know how she misjudges me? How heavily I have been punished for that pride, that apparent insensibility with which she approaches me? Oh, Harry, Harry, could you but tell how bitterly I have repented? But surely, surely the cruel, wicked indifference with which I treated his affection, his devotion, cannot have entirely destroyed them? Some little spark of the old flame must still remain. Else why is he so constantly here? Why does he still seem to seek my presence? At any rate, he shall see that I am no heartless coquette. And when this Mr. Royston presents himself, as I'm sure he will... Seeing Royston, who enters from right hand. I thought so. She's alone. She's decidedly handsome. Yet, as I said before, there's something about the other that, that... Vowing to Julia. Miss Templeton. Julia, courtesy. Sir, the business matter in which you are engaged is, I presume, settled? Yes. The signatures alone are required. In that case, perhaps I had better... About to retire. One moment, I beg. He's decidedly very handsome. Still, I don't know how it is. But there is certainly something about the other that, that... Before leaving this house tomorrow with my new acquaintance, I mean, my old friend Barton. Mr. Barton leaves tomorrow? Yes, alas. I say, alas, because one day only is now left for me to admire your physical attractions, your mental accomplishments. Oh, sir, believe me, my sister is far more accomplished than I am. Far be it from me to deny it. Still, from the highly eulogistic terms in which everyone speaks of you, your sister among the first. Ah, sir, dear Josephine is so amiable, so affectionate, so good, so loving, so angelic. She sticks up for her sister, that I will say. Still, there are certain attractions which we can all judge of by our own eyes. And who can possess them to a greater degree than Josephine? Such exquisite grace, such absolute perfection of form and feature. A sister again. If we go on at this rate, we shan't get on very fast. Allow me to be frank with you. My brother Jonathan, but perhaps you've never heard of Jonathan. Jonathan Royston of Banbury, where the case come from. Well, he often reproaches me with being what he calls rather wild and fast and flighty. The only fault I find with Josephine, dear child. She is so giddy, so thoughtless, so excitable. What a capital match you'd make. That's a pretty broad hint. And he, I mean Jonathan, says that the best thing I could do would be to get married. The very conclusion I have come to about Josephine. It really looks as if she wanted to turn me over to her sister. And having received the flattering assurance that my pretensions to your hand might possibly not be unsuccessful. From whom, pray? Doubtless from my aunt. Oh, no. From my dear old friend Barton. Mr Barton? He? No, no. I cannot, will not believe it. I'm sure he will not deny it, and see, fortunately, he is here. Enter Barton at right-hand door. Miss Templeton, your presence is required in the drawing room. Julia, very coldly, and seating herself at table. Presently. Barton, aside to Royston. Well, what news? All right. At least, if it isn't this one, it'll be the other. One of the two. What do you mean by the other? The little harmless, insignificant schoolgirl, you know. Confound, the fellow. You first put the notion of marriage into my head, and I won't leave this house a bachelor. I'll marry somebody. I'll leave you together. You'll plead my cause, won't you? And pitch it strong, won't you? I shall be all anxiety to know the result, because if she won't have me, I can fall back on the other. Don't you see? Taking Barton's hand and runs out at centre. Barton, aside and looking at Julia. To have to plead the cause of another, when, in spite of me, her presence will recall the past. Painful, humiliating as it is. Your friend has left you, Mr Barton? He has, Miss Templeton, but he has left an advocate to intercede with you on his behalf. A willing and an earnest one, no doubt, who probably has already furnished him with a detailed catalogue of my tastes, habits, pursuits, disposition. He's been blabbing. Surely he cannot have betrayed my confidence. The charge of betrayal of confidence should rather be levelled at one who, by his intimacy with the family into which he is admitted on terms of friendship, is unable to study the characters of its members for the purpose of retailing the result of his observations to others. I will not effect to misunderstand your reproof. It is true that I spoke of you, to Mr Royston, in terms which you fully merit, that I even told him your heart was free. Perfectly, absolutely free. You undertook to be his advocate with such zeal, such earnestness, one might almost imagine you had some personal interest. And what if I had an interest? A powerful interest? Indeed. Yes. And after this somewhat harsh rejection I met with at your hands, which no doubt are fully merited, what greater proof can I give of the esteem which I still hold you than to confide my secret to you? A secret? What can he mean? That, on the eve of leaving your family, I should feel far less regret. Could I but indulge in the hope of ever becoming connected with it by a closer tie? Can it be? Has he forgotten? Forgiven? Can he still care for me? But why this silence? This want of confidence in me? Frankly, because we feared you would oppose our wishes. Our hopes. Our hopes? We feared? Yes. She especially. She? Of whom are you speaking? Her name? Surely I must have mentioned it. Your sister? Julia, starting from her chair. Josephine? Yes. Rejected by her elder sister, I sought and found solace and consolation in her goodness and sympathy. So, your frequent visits, your constant presence here, apparently so inconsistent with your wounded feelings, are now explained. It was for her, and I was to be kept in ignorance, to fancy, to believe, to hope. Miss Templeton? I now understand this anxiety to dispose of my hand, this crowd of admirers thrown in my way. What mattered my feelings? My happiness! I was an obstacle to be removed! I implore you. Julia, stamping her foot. Silence, sir. Enter Mrs. Templeton, hurriedly at right hand. What is the matter here? Julia, what means this excitement, this agitation? To Barton. Perhaps you, sir? I am as much surprised as yourself, madam. I venture to confide to Miss Julia my pretensions to the hand of a sister. You had the cruelty, the barbarity, to make such an avowal to her elder sister. Advancing upon Barton, who retreats. To lesserate her feelings. To wound her pride. Yes, that's it. To wound my pride. But really? Silence, young man. Remember what my feelings were when my younger sister was married before me? I was choking, sir. Suffocating, sir. I turned positively purple. All sorts of colors, sir. And here is a little purred forward chit, daring to follow her Aunt Dorothy Jane's example. But here she comes. Enter Colonel for right hand and Josephine from left hand. So, Miss. Advancing angrily on Josephine. A pretty account I've heard of you. To mix yourself up at your age in a silly romance. A nonsensical love intrigue. What's my dear Martha? Mrs. Templeton. Turning sharply on him. Hold your tongue, cousin Samuel. But Anne, if you only allow me... But I won't allow you. To Julia. Keep up your spirits, poor persecuted victim. Victim? It seems to me that I'm the victim, just as I thought I was going to be married and settled. Beginning to sob. Colonel tries to pacify her. Married and settled indeed. A child. A baby like you. To Barton. After what has occurred, sir, you will see that your further presence under this roof. Barton. Bowing. I fully understand, madam. Mrs. Templeton. To Josephine. Come, Miss. Follow me. Josephine about to speak. Not a word. It is for me to speak, as you will find I intend to do and to some purpose. This way. Making Josephine pass before her, she and Julia follow her out at right hand. Phew! Here's a pretty piece of business. Not satisfied with rejecting me herself, she carries her prejudice, her hate so far as to... Hate? Ah, nonsense. By Jove, I have it. At least I think I have. What if she should feel a sneaking kindness for you after all? Sure. But what about friend Royston? Hang, friend Royston. With all my heart. But where the deuce is he? Waiting somewhere or other to hear the result of my interview with Miss Templeton. In which you undertook to plead his cause, eh? Yes. And forgot all about it in my anxiety to plead my own. What's that? Do you mean to say you confided to her the secret between you and Josephine? Yes. Trusting in her generous nature and her sisterly affection, I certainly did. And a pretty mess you've made of it. Well, I must find Royston and let him know. As for you, as you've received orders to march, the sooner you pack up and pack off the better. The door is out at center. Dora at right hand opens and Josephine peeps in. Harry, are you alone? Quite alone? Harry's forward. Yes, what is it? Such a discovery. She's got one. She? Who? Julia. Got one. Got what? A young man. Shut up in a box. In a box? Listen. After being well scolded by Aunt Martha, I followed Julia to her room. There she was, with a little open box before her, out of which she took something, looked at it, then pressed her lips to it and gave such a sigh. You might have heard it here. Perhaps she did. Well? Then Aunt called her and she hurried out of the room, leaving the box on the table. And then, and then somehow or other, here it is. Producing a small casket. It looks as if there was a young man inside. I mean a portrait, doesn't it? You've not opened it? No. That's for Aunt Martha to do. Surely you would not betray your sister's secret. Perhaps her happiness? Much she cared about mine, didn't she? Aunt Martha must and shall see it. Going, Barton stops her. The box falls on stage and opens. There! There! How clumsy you are! Barton picks up the box and then suddenly starting. What do I see? That's what I want to know. It is a portrait, isn't it? Yes. No. A mere fancy sketch. Nothing more. Taking miniature from box and hastily concealing it in his breast pocket. Be persuaded by me. Replace the box where you found it. Giving box to her. Did I take just one little peep? Not that I have an atom of curiosity. No, no. Well, if you insist on it. I do not insist. I beg implore of you. Very well. Josephine hurries out at right hand. Barton, watching her out, then taking miniature out and looking at it. My portrait. And what is written here? Reading. From memory. What am I to think? Can I dare to hope that her indifference was assumed? That she ever loved me? That she loves me still? Can such happiness be mine? Dear, dear Julia. But, sounds. What about Josephine? Poor little girl. I can't marry them both. What? What is to be done? Walking up and down. Will anybody tell me what's to be done? Enter Royston hurriedly at centre. Royston. Coming down. Oh, here you are. I couldn't wait any longer. Following Barton up and down. Don't worry. Don't bother. Bother? When I want to thank you for introducing me to this charming, amiable family. And to tell you I don't despair of becoming one of it. What? A word. I'm in love. But there's no mistake about it. Overhead and ears in love. What, sir? You persist in carrying on this absurd, ridiculous joke. Joke? Yes, sir. I beg to tell you I'll not allow. I'll not permit you to annoy poor dear Julia. I mean Miss Templeton. With your unwelcome attention, sir. Your absurd importunities, sir. Miss Templeton? My dear fellow, she's nothing whatever to do with it. It's the other. The little one. Josephine? Yes. My dear fellow. Come to my arms. Throwing his arms about Royston who struggles. I congratulate you. I give you joy. Such a sweet, charming, amiable creature. Brimful of talent. Overflowing with tenderness. Come to my arms again. Embracing Royston again. Then you speak for me, eh? Speak for yourself. Here she comes. Enter Josephine hurriedly at right. Stopping on seeing Royston. Mr. Royston? Barton, aside to Royston. Now then, speak out. Don't be afraid. Put on a sentimental look. Royston, assuming a very laxadaisical look. This sort of thing. Miss Josephine, I... I... It's very awkward if I only knew how to begin. Go on. Pardon my frankness, but it has been impossible for me to find myself in your charming society without being captivated, enchanted by your fascinations, your... I thought it was my sister who... So it was, but she wouldn't have me. That's why I... No, that won't do. No, that won't do. And you don't hesitate to address me in this language before... Pointing to Barton. Before my friend, my bosom friend, that I went to school with Ed Bagnidge Wells, why should I? It is he who encourages me, who tells me to go on. You told me to go on, didn't you? Josephine, looking at Barton. But has it never occurred to you that you might have a rival? So much the better. I should make it my immediate business to sweep him off the face of the earth. Josephine, to Barton. And you, sir, you can listen with perfect calmness and difference. Have you nothing to say? Yes, have you nothing? Hold your tongue. Ah, who can anticipate events? How little do we know what a few hours may bring forth? Yes, how little do we know? Hold your tongue. In a word, what if circumstances compelled me to leave England for a considerable time? A considerable time? Yes, for two years at least. Possibly more. Two or three years? Could I venture to hope that you would submit such attacks on your goodness, your patience? I should think not indeed. She doesn't love me. Huzzah! What cause is then open to me? One, only one, to sacrifice myself to the happiness of my friend. Royston, grasping his hand. Glory's creature. But what about your own happiness? It isn't likely you could give me up so quietly without some other reason, some other motive. I have another motive, which, for your sister's sake, you will respect. In a word, that portrait... In Julia's box? Yes. Well? Was mine. See? Taking out portrait and showing it. Yours. It is? Yours. It is. Then you are her young man after all? Yes. You are her young man. Of course. Now I understand. Now I see it all. So do I. No, I don't. At least, not quite. Enter Colonel Hurdley at centre, singing as he comes in. See the conquering hero comes. Victory, victory, everything settled. And now my dear young friends. Shaking Bartons and Josephine's hands. You can get married as soon as you like. Married? Yes. I had a devil of a fight for it, but I've carried the day. Aunt Martha can sense. Julia can sense. Everybody can sense. I beg your pardon. I don't. I forbid the bans. Enter Mrs. Templeton, followed by Julia at right hand. Julia, aside as she sees Barton. Still here. So Aunt Martha, you've given your consent. And you too, Julia? Julia, endeavouring to conceal her emotion. Yes, Josephine, willingly, gladly. Can I be indifferent to your happiness? Smiling sadly. How bravely she bears herself. And just now you were so indignant, so angry with me. A momentary caprice, an unworthy jealousy. But no more of that. Kiss me, dear sister. Kissing Josephine and moving away. A tear, but you won't suffer long, poor dear martyr. Suddenly bursting into loud laughter. Aside to Colonel. Laugh. Colonel, forcing laugh. Laugh. I don't know what I'm laughing about. What is the matter? You don't mean to say you've all been taken in. Did you think we were an earnest all the time? Aside to Colonel. Laugh. Laugh. Josephine, I insist on you explaining this extraordinary behaviour instantly. Nothing so simple. To Colonel and Barton. There's no necessity for our caring on this innocent little jest any longer, is there? Gest? Yes, this harmless conspiracy to make everybody happy, Juliet, dear, it was to test your love for me that I pretended to be so very anxious to get married, which I wasn't the least little bit in the world. With a sly look at Royston. I mean, I wasn't then. My fellow conspirator, Mr Barton, fearing that your rejection of him might proceed from a preference for another, joined in the plot, but very unwilling. For it is you, Julia, you alone that he has ever loved. You alone that he loves still. What is it I hear? The truth, madam. To Julia. May I hope, or must I endure, a second refusal? I suffered too much from the first, Harry. Giving her hand to Barton. That's one couple. But there's room for another. To Mrs Templeton. Madam, I have the honour to solicit the hand of your younger niece, Miss Josephine. With all my heart, Mr Royston, that is, unless Josephine objects. But she doesn't. Giving her hand to Royston. You see, Jonathan would be satisfied after all. Yes, but poor Sophia. Hush! Aside to Josephine, and slipping the portrait into her hand. You'll put this portrait back in its place. She won't care to look at it, now that she's got the original. The curtain falls. And a first come, first served by John Madison Morton. Wanted a male cook. A farce by George Melville Baker. This is a LibriVox recording. All LibriVox recordings are in the public domain. For more information or to volunteer, please visit LibriVox.org. Characters. Mr Hartwell. An old bachelor. Read by Larry Wilson. Josh was Locum from Greenville, Maine. Read by Todd. Teddy Ryan, a native of Ireland. Read by Thomas Peter. François, a French cook. Read by Pauline Latournerie. Stage Directions. Read by Max Schirlinghe. Scene. Room in Mr Hartwell's house. Entrances right and left. Table and chairs. Enter Mr Hartwell. Left. This is a cold morning. To be without a servant. Since my Irish servant took it into her head to Libri, because I objected to her having the parlor for her company every night in the week, I am determined to have no more of the female sex in the house. Consequently, I have inserted an advertisement in the papers for a male cook. And a male cook I suppose I shall see this morning. Racket outside. Joshua outside. Pants on your blasted stairs. I nearly broke my neck. Enter Joshua. Left. Rubbing his shins. What do you mean by coming into a man's house in this manner? Well, you see, old horse, I couldn't find any knocker. So I just opened the door and walked in. Why didn't you ring the bell? Now you don't. I don't ring no bells, I reckon. I ain't called the shoudest young man in Greenville. That's where I come from. For nothing, I reckon. Now don't catch me ringing bells. I was coming along the road this morning, and I see on a door, please ring the bell. Well, as I am considered in Greenville, that's where I come from, about their politest fellow in town, I steps up and rings the bell. Pretty soon a big black nigger stuck his head out and wanted to know what I was after. Oh, says I, nothing, I'm bleached to you. What did you ring the bell for, then, says he? Because your sign here asked me to, says I. Go away, says he. Shant, says I. With that, out he comes and gives me the all-firedest kick that made me see more stars than there are in all the Palmeti flags in South Carolina. So I guess I shant trouble any more bells. Well, sir, what do you want with me? Well, you see, Square? I come here from Greenville, that's where I belong, Greenville, Maine. Some folks do say it's down east, but this, sirs, we don't calculate we begin to be down east. Well, as I said afore, I suppose you don't mind me eating a little something? Pulse out a doughnut, breaks one, and offers half of it to Mr. Hartwell. Won't you have a piece, Square? No, sir, obliged to you. I'm afraid you'll rob yourself. Lord, no! I've got to heap more in this here bundle. These are of moms. She belongs in Greenville, too. As I said afore, Dad, says he to me. He belongs in Greenville, too. Says he to me. George what? My father's calling me by my whole first name, though the fellas and gals here in Greenville, and that's where I come from, used to call me Joshua short, says Dad to me, Joshua, work is getting slack with me just about this time. So I reckon you had better do up your Sunday go to meet and close in a bundle, and start off to Boston to seek your fortune. So Dad, give me a dollar. Mom fried me some donuts, and sister Darusha, she belongs in Greenville, too, ironed me a clean dickie, and here I am in Boston. Well, well, what's all this to me? Hold on, Square. Hold your horses, and I'll tell you. I was reading the newspaper, and I come across your card in one of a male cook. So I thought I'd just step up and see what kind of a looking cutter you'd be, and what you would give the tallest wood chopper, the spryest cattle driver, and the greatest fella among the girls in all Greenville, Maine. That's where I come from. Can you cook? Look here, Squire. Come to talk about cooking. Have you hired me? I reckon you get about the smartest fella to cook clam chowder. Big pen doughties of fried donuts. There is this side of Greenville, Maine. That's where I come from. And as for soup, oxtail or cow tail, I reckon I can whip old Sally do little all holler. And she is reckoned about the smidest cook in our town. Well, Joshua, as you seem to be an honest sort of chap, I don't mind trying you at $1.50 a week, and bored till I find out which you are worth. Will that do? $1.50 and bored. Well, I swore. Dad did say I should make an eternal fortune here in this Boston. But I reckon he didn't expect such a pile as that. Yes, Squire, I'll let you boss me at that rate. Well then, just go down into the kitchen and build a fire, and I will come down and tell you some nice things for breakfast. Yes, Squire, I'll fix it in a minute. $1.50 and bored. What would our Jerusha say? Exit right, leaving his bundle on the table. Well, I have got a male cook at last. Rather a green one to be sure, but then he's so honest. He won't steal my eggs, nor present rather large samples of his cousins. I think he'll prove a treasure. Barking of dogs outside. Teddy, outside. Out of that, you spappines. Murder, murder! Comes tumbling in and rolls on the floor, left. Hello? Who have we here? The top of the morning to use. Where's your father? My father? Yes, Mr. Cartwell. Faith, I thought it was your grandmother in a calico nightgown. What do you want? If you're pleased, sir, I'm the cook. Oh, another applicant. You are too late. I'm supplied. And sure ain't it in the papers, I look to know. Do you think I come all the way from Ireland to be trifled with in this way? But I tell you, I am supplied. Got a supply of you. Then the more need of someone to cook it up for you. But I tell you, I have just hired a cook. Then what did you stick that bit of a notice for a cook in the paper for? Bad luck to you. When I put that in, I was in what of a cook? A young man applied and I hired him. Then you don't want me, Your Honor? Bad luck to you, to thee, Ryan. You're always soon enough to be too late. Ah, suppose I must have been born the next day after I first saw the light. Here it's myself that has just left swayed Ireland in the little thatched cottage which only late when it's rained. Where the pig and Michelle got along so happily together, rolling in the mud and fighting like two loving brothers. To come to this America, what they call the land of liberty. It's a great land of liberty by my soul. When I first set my foot on the solid ground, the dry land of Boston, which, by the way, was in the water over my head because, do your mind, I tumbled overboard when I was to come ashore. A great ugly cur, not knowing the looks of a gentleman like Michelle, came at me. I stooped down in the street to pick up a stone and be died. They were all fussing down. Oh, it's a great land of liberty by my soul. Where the dogs are out like loose and the stones are all tied down. So you don't want to cook, Your Honor? No, Teddy. No cook. Don't you want a chambermeat? You see, in old Ireland the pig and I had one bed together. And as it was mighty inconvenient for the pig, no young man, no chambermaid. Then good day, Your Honor. You say you have a cook? Yes. Yes, and here he comes. Is that a cook? There, he's forgotten to come his head. Enter Joshua, left. Well, Joshua, fire built? Yes, choir. After a heap of trouble. You see, I went down where you said the wood was. And I couldn't find nothing but a lot of boards. And these were all covered up with a pile of stones black as your hat. So I just stepped out to the back gate and I seen a fella going by with a wheelbarrow. So I just sung out to him, Say, what are you carved off a lot of stones for? Well, he looked at the stones and then at me. And then he laughed and said, Seeing as you, I'll carve them all for nothing. And I'll be blamed if the bastard fool didn't load him up and cart me off for nothing. Why, it's worth a dollar if it's worth a cent. Carted it off, you fool? You've given away all my coal. Coal? What do you do with coal? Burn it to be sure. Burn them stones? Well, perhaps you do. But down in Greenville we burn slabs and birch. Mr. Hartwell. Aside. This Greenhorn will never do for me. Now just take your hat and go to Mr. Prentice in C Street and tell him to send me a ton of coals once. Aside. When you get back, I'll settle with you. Yeah, Squire. Aside. I wonder where C Street is. It won't do to let the Squire know I don't know where it is for he's dreadful riled now. I say, Pat, where is C Street? How did you know my name was Pat? Guest it, to be sure. Then since you're so good at guessing just guess the way to C Street. Oh, you get out. Well, I can't find out. I must hunt it up. So here goes. Exit left. Well, young man, I suppose I shall have to try you. Bama, so, sir, I don't think you could do better. Can you cook? Can I cook, is it? Faith, give me something to cook and if I don't do it handsome my name is not Teddy Ryan. Well then, Teddy Ryan, I'll give you a dollar fifty a week and you're bored. One dollar and fifty cents. Teddy Ryan, you've been knocked about to fall on your fate at last. I thought I should be going to Ireland in a few weeks, a millionaire. Well, go down into the kitchen and boil the tea kettle the first thing. Teddy, aside. I wonder what he means by buying the tea kettle. I'll buy you something anyhow. Exit right. Well, I'll give number two a trial at any rate. Though I've not much faith in him. I begin to think a male cook will not quite suit me. Knocking. Another application. Let's see who this is. Exit left. François, outside. Have I the pleasure to speak with Mr. Hartwell? Mr. Hartwell, outside. Yes, sir. Will you walk in? François, outside. I thank you very much. You do me one great honor. Enter Mr. Hartwell and François, left. Mr. Hartwell, outside. I wonder who this can be. He is too fine for a cook. To François. To what do I owe the honor of this visit? Ah, monsieur, you do me what you call too much proud. This I, who has the honor, I come, sir, to make application for the situation of the cook. You have note in the paper. I am one grand cook from La Belle France. France, the country of my home. France, the proud of my heart. France, where I have leave the little wife and the five child who call me by the name of Papa. I have come to this country to cook the fine dishes for the fine people who will pay me the fine money. Shall I serve you, monsieur? I have just engaged a cook. Ah, sacré. That is what you call the very much too bad. That is worse, sir, than no better. I have leave my own country to come to this great republic for the employment. I go to the large establishment and I say, sir, I wish to employ you. He say, very well, can you cook? Oui, monsieur. Can you roast the chicken? Oui, monsieur. Very well. Can you boil the mouton? Oui, monsieur. Very well. By God, he say very well all the time all too much. Can you whistle the dixie? Sacré, I be very astonished. I have cooked the mouton and the chicken. But by God, I never before hear of the dish what you call the dixie. By God. Oh, he say, you no comprehend I mean the song, the tune what you blow with your mouth. Oh, sacré. I see all over in one minute that he poke what you call the fun at me. I be very much indignant. By God, the indignation stick out of my face all over and I say, sacré, you be one grand home the bug. I will cook for you the chicken or the mouton. But sacré, I will never blow for you the dixie with my mouth. Never. I shake the dirt of his infernal house from the roof of my feet and I come to you. And when I set the eye of my head on you I say, here is one grand gentleman. The intelligence stick right out of him all over right from the end of his nose. And I should cook for him in the highest tile of the art such as I have learned in La Belle France. I am sorry, but I have just engaged to cook. Where could that fella be? Teddy. Teddy without. Come in, your name makes such a hullabaloo. Enter Teddy, right. Where's the hot water I ordered? Hot water. Didn't I tell you to boil the tea kettle? And sure didn't I do that same. I took the big feather with a nose, the tea kettle, and as I couldn't find another pot big enough to hold him I put him in the boiler, put him by my soul if it was to boil till next Michael's. I don't believe you can make it the least tender. What? Boil an iron kettle? I thought you could cook. Faith, and so I can if you'd want some fan-big pirates. I'm the boy that can do them for you quick as a cat can jump. Oh, sacré. He is one stupid foreigner. Oh, this fella will never do for me. Look, you, Teddy, you don't just suit me. So here's a dollar and I shan't want you any longer. Now, Mr. Frenchman, you can try what you can do. You will find all you want in the kitchen. Let me have something for breakfast in five minutes. Ah, thanks, Monsieur. I fly to do your bedding, as I'll give you the breakfast fit for the king of the United States, such as I have learned in La Belle France. Exit left. Well, if this fellow does not suit I shall have to get a female cook again. I begin to feel hungry, but thanks to Frenchy I shall soon have some breakfast. Exit left. Teddy, soulless. Ah, Teddy, my boy, nature never intended you for a cook, and if nature is ever going to do anything for you, here is the time. Perceiving the bundle of doughnuts on the table, which he commences devouring. Faith, here's an intelligent lord. Here is the greenery on the table where old heart was called bad lucked in. Enter Joshua, left. Well, I reckon I found the right place that time. I found the man that keeps the rocks. Seeing Teddy. Hello, Pat. Ain't you gone yet? Divel step, and waiting for a situation. Oh, Lou, I hope you ain't trying to get mine. Faith, I've had it, and retired as the man in the paper says to recruit my shattered energies. Enter Mr. Hartwell, right. Wow, see here. You just retire for them at doughnuts. Seizing them, Mr. Hartwell rubbing his hands. Ha-ha, there's a cook worth having. Such a breakfast I have not ate for a fortnight. What a treasure I have got. By the way, I wonder where he got that meat from the fricasseed. I was not aware there was a bit in the house. Hello, Francois. Enter Francois, right. Did Monsieur call? Where did you find the meat you sent up so nicely cooked? I was not aware there was a bit in the house. Sacré, did I not give you the fine breakfast? But the meat, where did you get the meat? The elegant breakfast? Yes, but the meat. The coffee... Tell me quick, where did you get the meat? Monsieur, I shall tell you. You say you must have the meat, so I go downstairs, I look in the closet, no meat. In the pantry, no meat. I look under the chairs, under the table, no meat. Sacré, I must have the meat. Ah, what do I see? You see what you call meow, meow. I size him, I chop off his head, and I have the meat, and I give you the breakfast what you call splendid. He cooked my cat. Well, I swore. If that don't turn his stomach. He's a heathen cannibal. Get out of my house, all of you male cooks, male cooks, I'll have no more of them. I'll have a female cook tomorrow, if she has to have the house full every night in the week. As for you, come into my office and I'll settle with you, provided you say nothing about my advertising in search of a male cook. Well, I won't say anything. Only keep mum about calls. Nor tell how I boil the tea kettle. How I cook the pussy. What you call meow, meow. End of Wanted, a male cook by George Melville Baker.