The Complete Plays of J. M. Barrie - 30 Titles in One Edition. Джеймс Барри

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СКАЧАТЬ would wear blue spectacles.’

      ANDREW. That’s one for you, Miss Golightly.

      NANNY. ‘There is another girl on board, my cousin Nanny, and we are to have a cricket match next Saturday in the village, men versus women. Nanny is good at high leg ones but I can always bowl her with a daisy cutter.’ He can’t!

      ANDREW. One for you, Miss O’Brien.

      NANNY. Yes, and here is one for you. ‘There is a Scotch chap staying with us, called Andrew McPhail, and I’m rather glad he is here — I’m rather glad he is here, because he’s as bad a scholar as myself. He is an Edinburgh medical student, and is waiting to hear whether he passed his exam, to be a doctor, and he will hear by telegram on Saturday, but I don’t expect he’ll pass; and neither does Bell. She says he—’

      BELL. Nanny!

      NANNY. I’ll miss that. Hum — um — um! ‘McPhail is rather soft on my cous—’ — hum! (With emphasis)

      ‘McPhail is rather soft!’ Ah, Bell. Here is something about Mr. Upjohn. ‘Who do you think is staying at the inn? One of the greatest men of the day, namely Kit Upjohn who made 121 for Middlesex against Notts, and even then was only bowled off his pads.’ BELL. A poor kind of greatness!

      NANNY. ‘But though Upjohn is such a swell he isn’t stuck up, and he treats Bell just like as if she was his equal. He comes to the houseboat every day, and lets her jaw away to him about choosing a profession, and sometimes the three of us go for a walk, and then he offers me a cane-handled bat if I can run the mile in six minutes.’ Oh, Bell!

      BELL (indignantly). It isn’t true!

      NANNY. What isn’t?

      BELL. What you imply!

      NANNY. What did I imply?

      BELL. That I — that Mr. Upjohn — that we — oh! (Retires from window, NANNY beckons to ANDREW, who saunters into saloon up ladder to deck.) They all seem to think I’m in love with Mr. Upjohn, a man who laughs every time I speak of woman’s true position to him. I can’t love him. I won’t.

      (Pulls down blind.)

      (A crash is heard, MRS. GOLIGHTLY raises hands in horror. Exits.)

      NANNY (to ANDREW on deck). And how have you slept, sir?

      ANDREW. Badly. I dreamt I had been plucked in the exam.

      NANNY. You have not got used to that dream yet?

      (Instead of answering ANDREW becomes rigid; there is a horrified look in his face; he draws a diagram in the air with his fingers and mutters.)

      Whatever is the matter?

      ANDREW. I have just remembered — I believe — Oh, Miss O’Brien, I think I gave the wrong answer to question five. (Continues to glare and mutter.)

      NANNY. What was it?

      ANDREW. ‘Take a stomach; remove the—’

      NANNY (putting fingers to her ears). Disgusting!

      ANDREW (coming to). We all have them, Miss O’Brien.

      NANNY. I suppose we have, but, sure, we needn’t let on! That’s the worst of being a doctor.

      ANDREW. I’m not a doctor yet. Oh, to be one, to prescribe, to operate. To cut off legs! (Sits.)

      NANNY (after looking over at BELL’S window). Mr. McPhail, did you ever propose to a lady?

      ANDREW. No, but I want to — Nanny —

      NANNY. Hush! If you were a lady and knew that a man was about to propose to you, and you meant to accept him, how should you — dress?

      ANDREW. Dress?

      NANNY. Or suppose you meant to refuse him, then how should you dress?

      ANDREW. Really?

      NANNY. Stupid! I am quite certain from Mr. Upjohn’s manner yesterday that he will propose to Bell to-day. Now if I know it, you may be sure she knows it, and even you must see that she is taking twice as long to dress this morning as usual. Does that mean that she is to accept or refuse him?

      ANDREW. Accept obviously, because if she meant the other thing, she would not care how she looked.

      NANNY. I think the reverse; if she was to say yes, it would not much matter how she looked, because he would be seeing her so often afterwards. But if it is to be no, she would naturally dress carefully.

      ANDREW. Why?

      NANNY. SO that he should have her at her prettiest to remember her by after he goes to Manitoba!

      ANDREW. But Miss Golightly despises dress — she told me so herself.

      NANNY. Pooh! I should like to see her wear a last year’s frock.

      ANDREW. Miss O’Brien, did you dress carefully to-day?

      NANNY. Awfully carefully! (Pause.)

      ANDREW. You ‘re a bonny wee lassie!

      NANNY. No compliments, but I see you are a Scotchman now, and I used to doubt it.

      ANDREW. Why?

      NANNY. Because you never say ‘Bang went saxpence whatever,’ and then you don’t wear the national costume.

      ANDREW. What national costume? (NANNY points to her skirts and to his legs.) Oh, it’s only the English tourists that wear that; besides, you ‘re not national either, for though you ‘re an Irish girl, you don’t flirt!

      NANNY. NO, never. Oh! there’s a fly in my eye!

      ANDREW. Fly in your eye! Oh, I must operate at once.

      (They sit up back. He tries to get fly out of her eye. BELL pulls up blind and MRS. GOLIGHTLY speaks to her through saloon window.)

      MRS. GOLIGHTLY. Bell, the milk will be turned before W. G. comes across with it. He is so slow.

      BELL. As we used to say at Girton, tardus in rebus gerendis.

      MRS. GOLIGHTLY. Very likely, but that does not explain why the milk will not keep in this weather.

      BELL. The reason is obvious — as the temperature rises, the bacillus lacticus —

      MRS. GOLIGHTLY. You will give me a headache, Bell.

      (W. G. heard whistling, BELL withdraws her head.)

      MRS. GOLIGHTLY. Ah, I hear W. G. (Goes to stern; NANNY and ANDREW are waving to someone.)

      KIT (not yet visible). Good morning, СКАЧАТЬ