London of a Saturday night!
LORD LOAM. My lords, in rising once more to address this historic chamber--
TWEENY. There was a little ham and beef shop off the Edgware Road-- (The visions fade; they return to the practical.)
LORD LOAM. Tweeny, do you think I could have an egg to my tea? (At this moment a wiry, athletic figure in skins darkens the window. He is carrying two pails, which are suspended from a pole on his shoulder, and he is ERNEST. We should say that he is ERNEST completely changed if we were of those who hold that people change. As he enters by the window he has heard LORD LOAM's appeal, and is perhaps justifiably indignant.)
ERNEST. What is that about an egg? Why should you have an egg?
LORD LOAM (with hauteur). That is my affair, sir. (With a Parthian shot as he withdraws stiffly from the room.) The Gov. has never put my head in a bucket.
ERNEST (coming to rest on one of his buckets, and speaking with excusable pride. To TWEENY). Nor mine for nearly three months. It was only last week, Tweeny, that he said to me, 'Ernest, the water cure has worked marvels in you, and I question whether I shall require to dip you any more.' (Complacently.) Of course that sort of thing encourages a fellow.
TWEENY (who has now arranged the dinner table to her satisfaction). I will say, Erny, I never seen a young chap more improved.
ERNEST (gratified). Thank you, Tweeny, that's very precious to me.
(She retires to the fire to work the great bellows with her foot, and ERNEST turns to TREHERNE, who has come in looking more like a cow-boy than a clergyman. He has a small box in his hand which he tries to conceal.) What have you got there, John?
TREHERNE. Don't tell anybody. It is a little present for the Gov.; a set of razors. One for each day in the week.
ERNEST (opening the box and examining its contents.) Shells! He'll like that. He likes sets of things.
TREHERNE (in a guarded voice). Have you noticed that?
ERNEST. Rather.
TREHERNE. He's becoming a bit magnificent in his ideas.
ERNEST (huskily). John, it sometimes gives me the creeps.
TREHERNE (making sure that TWEENY is out of hearing). What do you think of that brilliant robe he got the girls to make for him.
ERNEST (uncomfortably). I think he looks too regal in it.
TREHERNE. Regal! I sometimes fancy that that's why he's so fond of wearing it. (Practically.) Well, I must take these down to the grindstone and put an edge on them.
ERNEST (button-holing him). I say, John, I want a word with you.
TREHERNE. Well?
ERNEST (become suddenly diffident). Dash it all, you know, you're a clergyman.
TREHERNE. One of the best things the Gov. has done is to insist that none of you forget it.
ERNEST (taking his courage in his hands). Then--would you, John?
TREHERNE. What?
ERNEST (wistfully). Officiate at a marriage ceremony, John?
TREHERNE (slowly). Now, that's really odd.
ERNEST. Odd? Seems to me it's natural. And whatever is natural, John, is right.
TREHERNE. I mean that same question has been put to me today already.
ERNEST (eagerly). By one of the women?
TREHERNE. Oh no; they all put it to me long ago. This was by the Gov. himself.
ERNEST. By Jove! (Admiringly.) I say, John, what an observant beggar he is.
TREHERNE. Ah! You fancy he was thinking of you?
ERNEST. I do not hesitate to affirm, John, that he has seen the love-light in my eyes. You answered--
TREHERNE. I said Yes, I thought it would be my duty to officiate if called upon.
ERNEST. You're a brick.
TREHERNE (still pondering). But I wonder whether he was thinking of you?
ERNEST. Make your mind easy about that.
TREHERNE. Well, my best wishes. Agatha is a very fine girl.
ERNEST. Agatha? What made you think it was Agatha?
TREHERNE. Man alive, you told me all about it soon after we were wrecked.
ERNEST. Pooh! Agatha's all very well in her way, John, but I'm flying at bigger game.
TREHERNE. Ernest, which is it?
ERNEST. Tweeny, of course.
TREHERNE. Tweeny? (Reprovingly.) Ernest, I hope her cooking has nothing to do with this.