Pirates by Colin Campbell Clements (life books to read txt) 📕

Romney, how—how can you even think such a thing? Why, in the South Sea Islands, I am told, the people wear nothing but straw skirts ... and pirates, pirates take things—unmentionable things from innocent travelers. One could not accuse the people of Northampton of such things. Even our shop-keepers are gentlemen compared to those dreadful people who live in the South Seas.

Mrs. Romney. The people of the South Sea Islands are at least—interesting.

Mrs. Warren. Perfect savages!

Mrs. Romney. But, my dear, all our forefathers were savages, you know ... hitting each other over the head with clubs, hanging from palm trees by their tails, and all that sort of thing.

Mrs. Warren. Oh, dear!

Mrs. Romney. And the longer I live in Northampton, my dear, the more I'm convinced that it wasn't so very many generations ago, either.

Mrs. Warren. Oh ... oh ... oh! Betty, you may go! You will excuse the dear child, I am sure. She has duties to perform which——

Mrs. Romney. Oh, yes, certainly.

Betty. (She rises and collects her flowers) Good afternoon, Mrs. Romney. Shall I see you at Mrs. Hunter's tea Thursday?

Mrs. Romney. Yes, dear, charmed.

Betty. Good-bye.

(Mrs. Romney bows. Betty goes out left. Clara enters with the tea things.)

Mrs. Warren. You will have a cup of tea, Mrs. Romney?

Mrs. Romney. Yes, thank you so much. So refreshing, nothing like tea for nerves, is there, really? Half a cup ... I have just come from Mrs. Hunter's. Both cream and sugar, yes, thank you so much. Such a charming lady, Mrs. Hunter ... perfectly charming, my dear, perfectly charming. So witty, so clever, so vivacious ... but dreadfully jealous.

Mrs. Warren. Jealous? Jealous of whom?

Mrs. Romney. She is very fond of her husband.

Mrs. Warren. (Nervously) Of whom ... of whom is she jealous?

Mrs. Romney. No one in particular, at present, I think.

Mrs. Warren. (With a sigh of relief) Oh——

Mrs. Romney. That is ... oh, is there any cause for her being jealous of any particular person, Mrs. Warren?

Mrs. Warren. (Choking on her tea) Eh? No ... no ... not that I know of.

Mrs. Romney. How uninteresting. The doctor is such a charming gentleman. Dear me, I do hope I will have another attack of indigestion, or something of that sort soon. I am sure Doctor Hunter would be such a splendid physician ... he is so good looking. (She puts down her teacup.) Dear me, I must be going. I am on my way to the meeting of the "Helping Hand Society" and——

Mrs. Warren. Yes, Mrs. Lawty has just gone. She dropped in to see me for a moment.

Mrs. Romney. Mrs. Lawty ... that one? I'm not speaking to her.

Mrs. Warren. Oh, dear, you ... you don't really mean you have quarrelled? So unladylike.

Mrs. Romney. Ladylike ... ladylike? Ladylike be damned!

Mrs. Warren. (Almost jumping out of her chair) Mrs. Romney!

Mrs. Romney. Mrs. Warren, I beg your pardon. I forgot, for a moment, to whom I was speaking.

Mrs. Warren. That was quite evident.

Mrs. Romney. Quite. But you see, Mrs. Lawty told Mrs. Pickering, who told Mrs. Lawer, who told Lady Bloshire, whose maid told my maid, that Mrs. Lawty said that I dyed my hair ... dyed my hair!

Mrs. Warren. Really?

Mrs. Romney. I've never dyed my hair. The impertinent gossip. The——

Mrs. Warren. (Quickly) Do have another cup of tea, Mrs. Romney. It is so soothing.

Mrs. Romney. Oh, thank you. Just a little sugar, please, and no cream.

Mrs. Warren. (Giving her the tea) There, my dear.

Mrs. Romney. Lovely color, isn't it?

Mrs. Warren. Yes, isn't it? Mr. Warren, dear man, once told me that the natives of India use tea for dyeing.

Mrs. Romney. Hair?

Mrs. Warren. No ... no ... cloth, I believe, cloth.

Mrs. Romney. Oh, how interesting!

Mrs. Warren. I believe they use the henna berry for dyeing hair in the East. I am told it gives a beautiful soft auburn shade.

Mrs. Romney. How interesting. Does one procure it from one's pharmacist?

Mrs. Warren. Eh? Oh, yes, I believe so.

Mrs. Romney. I must try it on my hair—oh, dear, I mean——

Mrs. Warren. What did you say, Mrs. Romney?

Mrs. Romney. I said—I really must be going, my dear. One never seems to realize how fast the time goes when one talks with you. Our little visit has been most interesting ... and most instructive. I do want to stop in for a moment and see Mrs. Hallway before I go to the meeting of the "Helping Hand." Her rheumatism is worse again, poor dear.

Mrs. Warren. Yes, so I heard. I'm so sorry.

Mrs. Romney. Oh, it is not at all serious, just a touch, I believe. Of course she did call in Doctor Hunter. But I really believe it was simply to get acquainted with him more than anything else. (She starts.) Do drop in and see me when you can. Good afternoon, Mrs. Warren. (She goes out.)

(Clara enters.)

Clara. Shall I take away the tea things, ma'am?

Mrs. Warren. No ... no, not just yet, Clara. Someone else may drop in, you know, and perhaps Betty would like a cup of tea.

Clara. Shall I call her, ma'am?

Mrs. Warren. Yes, I believe you had bet—— (The knocker sounds.) There, there, see who that is, Clara.

(Clara goes into the hall. She returns immediately.)

Clara. It's Mrs. Pickering, ma'am.

Mrs. Warren. Have her come right in, Clara.

Clara. Shall I call Miss Betty, ma'am?

Mrs. Warren. Yes, do have her come down and have a cup of tea.

(Clara goes out. Mrs. Pickering enters.)

Mrs. Pickering. How do you do, Mrs. Warren?

Mrs. Warren. Oh, good afternoon. Do sit down, Mrs. Pickering.

Mrs. Pickering. Oh ... my dear Mrs. Warren, I am so glad to see you looking so well. I thought perhaps—of course there is much sickness in Northampton now. (She sits down.) Much sickness. (Pause.) I just met Mrs. Lawty and she told me that Mrs. Hallway is almost dead with rheumatism ... almost dead. In fact, I think they hardly expect her to live much longer. Of course, Mrs. Lawty didn't say so, but I implied as much from the tone of her voice.

Mrs. Warren. I heard it was nothing really serious.

Mrs. Pickering. Oh, dear, yes ... very serious. I just had it from Mrs. Lawty, who had it from ... from ... from a most reliable source. Rheumatism is such a painful death, too. Oh, dear, poor soul ... poor soul! (Mrs. Warren hands her a cup of tea.) Thank you so much.

Mrs. Warren. I believe the new Doctor Hunter is attending her.

Mrs. Pickering. Yes, isn't it too bad? Mrs. Lawty tells me he is a conversationalist, or something dreadful of that sort. But of course he was educated in London ... and, my dear, London's standard of morals is not the same as Northampton's. I was also told that he treats his wife very badly in public, my dear, in public.

Mrs. Warren. You mean——

Mrs. Pickering. My dear Mrs. Warren, I am very sorry to tell you ... but I feel that it is my duty, as wife of your pastor ... to tell you that your daughter Betty has been seen very often,—that is, at least once—walking with this Doctor Hunter. Also, my dear Mrs. Warren, she accepts presents from him ... flowers and that sort of thing.

Mrs. Warren. Why, Betty hardly knows him!

Mrs. Pickering. That is just it. She hardly knows him ... nor do any of us. Also remember he is a married man, my dear Mrs. Warren, and very good looking ... and I really believe all good-looking people are bad, thoroughly bad.

Mrs. Warren. I can't believe that Betty——

Mrs. Pickering. Naturally, my dear, naturally; you are her mother and wish to shield her. But I felt that it was, as I said before, my duty to tell you all I know of the facts of the whole matter.

Mrs. Warren. You quite alarm me, Mrs. Pickering.

Mrs. Pickering. Young girls, nowadays, are sometimes ... I might say, sometimes indiscreet.

Mrs. Warren. Oh!

Mrs. Pickering. My dear, men are strange beings. Oh, the poor souls that have been lured to their destruction by men. I am always reminded of that beautiful passage in Genesis which says that woman was made after man. And isn't it our dear Mr. Browning who says, "Second thoughts are always best"? (She puts down her teacup.) There, now, I really must be going, Mrs. Warren. I am on my way to the meeting of the "Helping Hand Society" and I really mustn't be too late. I hope I have not overly alarmed you, Mrs. Warren, but as one of your oldest friends and as the wife of your pastor I feel that I must always do my duty, no matter how painful, when the way lies open before me. I sincerely hope you will not feel that I have been ... been peremptory, so to speak, Mrs. Warren.

Mrs. Warren. No ... no. It is very kind of you to come to me in this sad moment of trouble.

Mrs. Pickering. (Rising) I do hope you will be able to attend the services to-morrow morning. Mr. Pickering has written a beautiful sermon on the evils of gossip ... a beautiful sermon. I feel that it is the best thing he has written in all the forty years of his righteous work. I am sure it will thunder down the ages as his masterpiece. The sentiment, the beautiful English, and even the punctuation ... are really marvelous. Of course, Mr. Pickering and I both realize that there is very little gossip in Northampton ... but it is best to know sin when one encounters it. Good afternoon, Mrs. Warren.

Mrs. Warren. (Weakly) Good afternoon.

(Mrs. Pickering goes out. Clara enters.)

Clara. I have brought the hot water, ma'am.

Mrs. Warren. Did you call Betty?

Clara. I knocked at her door, ma'am ... I knocked very loudly, ma'am, but got no answer.

Mrs. Warren. I am so distressed, Clara. See if she is in the garden. Yes, she must be in the garden. (Clara starts.) And Clara, do tell her to come in and see me at once. I want to talk to her. It is very important ... oh, most important that I see her at once. Clara. (The knocker sounds.) See who that can be, Clara. Oh, more dreadful news, I fear. (Clara goes into the hall. Mrs. Warren keeps mumbling to herself:) Most disconcerting ... most dreadfully disconcerting.

(Clara enters.)

Clara. It is Mrs. Lawer, ma'am.

Mrs. Warren. Eh? What? Who, did you say?

Clara. Mrs. Lawer, ma'am.

Mrs. Warren. Mrs. Lawer? Oh, do have her come right in, Clara.

(Clara goes out. Mrs. Lawer enters.)

Mrs. Lawer. Good afternoon, Mrs. Warren, good afternoon. (Breathlessly) How ill, how worried you are looking, Mrs. Warren. Oh, I am so sorry for you ... so very sorry. (She sits down.) I have just seen Mrs. Romney, who had just seen Mrs. Lawty, and had the dreadful news from her. I am so sorry, Mrs. Warren.

Mrs. Warren. But what——

Mrs. Lawer. But, of course, we who have known you for all these years will be as silent as the tomb ... you can depend upon us, lean upon us, call upon us. We shall comfort you and be your support in this hour of greatest need.

Mrs. Warren. Why ... why, what do you mean?

Mrs. Lawer. You really mean to say you do