Nursery Comedies

RATHER A PRIG

CHARACTERS

ELEANOR.

WALTER.

RATHER A PRIG

Eleanor. – (Calling outside.) Walter! Walter! (Running in.) Here you are, at last! Do come and play in the garden!

Walter. – (Who is walking about with a book.) Certainly not! Don't you see I am deep in study?

E. – But it's play-time.

W. – I dislike play-time.

E. – What a dull creature! Do you mean to say that you never play?

W. – As seldom as possible.

E. – What a pity! I have just got some new reins, and I wanted to play at horses. I do love being a horse.

W. – That is a natural preference. The horse has ever been a favoured companion of man. It is even on record that the Roman Emperor, Caligula —

E. – I will not talk about Roman Emperors during play-time. Come along, I will drag the cart and you shall drive standing up, if you like, as they do at the circus.

W. – That is a custom which dates from the most remote antiquity. Pictorial representations of standing charioteers are found on the Assyrian friezes and the Egyptian tombs —

E. – (Stopping her ears.) I will not talk about the Egyptians during play-time. Come, will you drive the cart?

W. – Certainly not.

E. – Then shall we skip? Look, I have a new skipping-rope, which my father gave me last week.

W. – The hemp from which that rope was made was doubtless derived from the flax grown in the province of Ulster, in Ireland, especially in the county of Antrim, of which the principal towns are Belfast, Lisbon, and Carrickfergus.

E. – Oh, bother the county of Antrim and the province of Ulster! I don't care to know where the skipping-rope grew. I want to skip with it.

W. – That is quite a savage instinct; the remarkable agility of the South Sea Islanders —

E. – I won't talk of the South Sea Islanders during play-time. You won't skip, then?

W. – Certainly not.

E. – Then let's be soldiers. I love playing at soldiers.

W. – That is somewhat of an unfeminine instinct, although it is justified by more than one example in history. Thus, Boadicea —

E. – Oh, shut up, or I will run you through with my sword! It's just like a real one. It's made of the most beautiful steel.

W. – Then the blade probably came from the district of Cleveland in Yorkshire, where the iron and steel industries may be seen in their greatest development. You have, doubtless, heard of the steel works of Eston, and the blast furnaces of Middlesborough?

E. – I don't know what a blast furnace is.

W. – Allow me to describe that ingenious construction to you.

E. – No, thank you, not in my play-time. I am going to get some daisies to make a daisy-chain.

W. – You doubtless have a herbarium?

E. – No. I don't believe they grow in this garden.

W. – Oh, too ignorant girl! A herbarium is not a flower, it is a collection of dried flowers and plants.

E. – Ah, well! I haven't one then.

W. – That is a mistake. You should carefully dry the plants and stick them in a book, with a minute description of each specimen written on the opposite page.

E. – I can't stick anything in a book, because Mamma doesn't like me to use her gum, and I have only fish-glue.

W. – Fish-glue is, for certain purposes, a most valuable substance. It has even been known to cure cecity or blindness. Thus, Tobit —

E. – Don't talk about Tobit. Are you coming to make a daisy-chain?

W. – Never.

E. – Shall we play at battledore? I have a heavy shuttlecock and a light one, whichever you like best.

W. – That is because the density of cork varies in a very marked manner. That brought from the West Indies —

E. – Don't talk about the West Indies during play-time. Are you coming to play at battledore?

W. – On no account.

E. – Very well, then, you may stay with your Egyptians, your South Sea Islanders, and your West Indies, while I go and play in the garden. I think you are rather a prig. (Exit.)

W. – (Looking after her, surprised.) A prig! How odd! I wonder what makes her say that?

THE MONSTER IN THE GARDEN

CHARACTERS

JACK.

JANET.

MABEL.

AUNT MARY.

THE MONSTER IN THE GARDEN

Janet. – Come, I want to go into the garden.

Mabel. – We must have Tiny with us.

Jan. – Of course, where is he, I wonder? Tiny! Tiny!

M. – Tiny! Tiny! Stupid little dog! He is always away when one wants him.

Jan. – Perhaps he is in the garden already.

M. – Perhaps he is. We'll go and see.

Jan. – Ah! here is Jack, perhaps he has seen Tiny.

Enter Jack

M. – Have you seen Tiny?

Jack. – Tiny? No, I haven't, indeed. Oh dear me! I am so frightened.

Jan. – What's the matter?

Jack. – I've seen the most terrible monster in the garden.

M. and Jan. – A monster!

Jack. – A monster, in the garden.

Jan. – Oh, Mabel, hold my hand! (To Jack.) Did you see him?

Jack. – Well, I did not see him exactly, because he was inside that clump of laurels, but I certainly heard him growl.

M. – (Getting very close to Janet.) Growl? Oh dear!

Jack. – Then I believe I saw two great eyes looking at me.

M. – Two great eyes?

Jack. – Then I am certain I saw the point of a hairy ear, the sort of point that a great monster's ear would be sure to have.

M. – Then, of course, now we won't go into the garden.

Jan. – I've just thought of the most terrible thing!

Jack. – What is it?

M. – What is it?

Jan. – (Covering her face.) That Tiny is in the garden!

M. – And he will be eaten alive!

(Covering her face with her hands, and sobbing loudly.)

Jan. – What shall we do? We can't leave him to die.

Jack. – (Valiantly.) No, we can't. I will go and save him.

M. – Oh, you brave boy! We'll come too.

Jack. – Come, then! I've got my knife.

(Pulls his knife out of his pocket.)

Jan. – And I'll take my new scissors.

M. – And what shall I have? Oh, I'll take two large hairpins to stab him with.

Jack. – That's right. We'll stab him through the heart.

Enter Aunt Mary

Aunt Mary. – Why, my dear children! How warlike you look!

Jack. – And well we may! We're going into the garden to kill the most terrible monster.

A. M. – Oh, I see, you are pretending to be warriors.

Jan. – No, indeed! We are not. It is a real monster in the garden. Jack has seen him – part of him, at least.

A. M. – And what was he like?

Jack. – He's an enormous animal, with great flaring eyes, and long hairy ears.

Jan. – And probably horns and tusks, but we're not quite sure, because he was behind the bushes.

M. – And we are so dreadfully afraid he will kill Tiny.

A. M. – Oh no! He won't find Tiny – Tiny is hidden behind the laurels near the conservatory, eating a mouse which he has just caught.

Jack. – Behind the laurels near the conservatory! Then he will certainly be killed! The monster is there too! That is where the growls came from!

A. M. – Ha! ha! Now I see it all! Why, the monster that Jack saw and heard, is simply Tiny, who was growling because he feared his mouse would be taken away from him.

Jack. – Are you sure?

Jan. – Was the monster Tiny?

A. M. – Evidently. I've just seen him there myself.

M. – Oh, how delightful! let us go and tell Tiny there is no monster in the garden!

(Exeunt running, followed by Aunt Mary.)

CAT AND DOG

CHARACTERS

TOWSER.

PUSSY.

CAT AND DOG

Towser. – What a night! I am tied up in the yard, and told to bark if I hear a noise. Suddenly I hear a screeching and pecking in the poultry-yard, fowls flapping about in all directions. Of course I bark as loud as I can, my master comes out to see what it is about, he finds one of the hens missing, and beats me as if I had killed it. I do call that hard on a steady, respectable dog like me.

Enter Pussy without seeing Towser

Pussy. – Well, I do call it hard! Everything that is broken in the house, they say is done by the cat. Now, this morning, again, a beautiful Venetian looking-glass is broken, and so my mistress would not give me a saucer of cream for breakfast.

T. – (Seeing Pussy.) Bow! Wow!

P. – Mew! Mew!

T. – Good-morning, Mistress Pussy.

P. – Good-morning, Mr. Towser. I hope you're well.

T. – I am very tired. I had to bark a great deal in the night.

P. – Really! I am sorry to hear that. You must do as I do, come and sleep on the hearth-rug during the day.

T. – I only wish I could, but I am much too busy a dog for that.

P. – Are you? What do you do all day?

T. – First of all, I have to be ready to bite the postman's legs when he comes at eight, and then to bark at him as he goes across the road.

P. – It must be difficult to bark – I am sure I should never manage it.

T. – It is very difficult indeed – I am the only person in the house that can manage it. Then when the postman has gone, I go into the kitchen to help the cook to get rid of the bones and scraps that are left.

P. – The worst of bones is, they are so dreadfully hard. I much prefer a saucer of milk, or a fish's tail. Oh how delicious that is!

T. – Oh, I couldn't touch a fish's tail. Then when my master is at breakfast, I have to beg, and that is very hard work, as I am on my legs all the time, balancing things on my nose.

P. – If I were you, I would arch my back instead, and rub myself against the master's legs.

T. – Of course I could arch my back if I wanted to do so, but I don't care to. Then after breakfast, I have a few minutes' rest before the fire.

P. – Oh, isn't that comfortable! Rolled round in a basket. It is so nice to purr a little, and then gradually go off to sleep.

T. – To tell the truth, I don't care to purr, I think it is so stupid. One might as well be a kettle or a bumble bee at once. What I like to do is to come and scratch at the door, just after it has been shut, to smell round the rug, to turn round two or three times, and then lie down quietly.

P. – To curl round with one's head nestled in between one's fore-paws.

T. – Oh, I like to sleep with my paws straight out.

P. – The result is, you don't sleep nearly so long.

T. – Because I haven't time. Then when my mistress goes out driving, I have to bark at the pony when he starts. And I have to go out with the carriage, and pay visits, and I jump upon strange people's laps, and make their dresses all muddy in front.

P. – That must be delightful! But I shouldn't care to go with the carriage, I would rather stay at home and enjoy myself, and scratch the visitors who come here. By the way, can you draw in your claws?

T. – Draw them in! Certainly not.

P. – You don't mean to say you can't do such a simple thing as that?

T. – Of course I could if I liked, but I don't choose. I think you ought to make up your mind either to have claws, or not to have them: not to be popping them in and out as you do.

P. – But it's so convenient when I walk about at night, to be able to steal about gently and then shoot out my claws when I see a mouse.

T. – Oh, how tempting that sounds! Then it's always at night you hunt?

P. – Oh, always. There is no one to see or to disturb you.

T. – Exactly. Now, when I go out with my master, if I go after a hen or a rabbit, I am beaten at once.

P. – Fancy being beaten for a hen!

T. – Isn't it absurd! Just for an idiotic bird like that!

P. – Who can't lap, or scratch!

T. – Nor bark, nor do anything!

P. – Never mind. I killed one last night, I am glad to say.

T. – You killed a hen?

P. – Certainly.

T. – Well, I do call that hard on me! My master beat me as hard as he could because of that hen.

P. – Well! Were you beaten for that wretched, tough old hen? That is funny!

T. – Yes, that is a good joke, madam, I dare say! But we shall see.

P. – Don't be angry about such a trifle.

T. – I will be revenged still more. I have already broken a Venetian looking-glass, to show my indignation.

P. – Was it you who broke the looking-glass?

T. – Certainly it was.

P. – Then we are quits. My mistress insisted that I had broken it, and would not give me my saucer of cream.

T. – Oh, that really is funny! We are quits, then. Shall we be friends again?

P. – Certainly, if you like.

T. – And, as a proof of our friendship, next time you come to kill the hens, I won't bark.

P. – That's a bargain. I'll steal two more to-night, and give you one.

T. – Oh, what a good plan! Let's go and choose them.

P. – Two nice fat ones!

(He offers her his arm. He says "Bow! Wow!" She says "Mew! Mew!" They go out.)