Джон Голсуорси
Plays : Fourth Series
I come out on the high road here to your north, and I shall come out on it there to your west. When I've got me new works up on the Centry, I shall be makin' a trolley track between the works up to the road at both ends, so any goods will be running right round ye. How'll ye like that for a country place?
[For answer HILLCRIST, who is angry beyond the power of speech, walks, forgetting to use his stick, up to the French window. While he stands there, with his back to HORNBLOWER, the door L. is flung open, and Jim enters, preceding CHARLES, his wife CHLOE, and ROLF. CHARLES is a goodish-looking, moustached young man of about twenty-eight, with a white rim to the collar of his waistcoat, and spats. He has his hand behind CHLOE'S back, as if to prevent her turning tail. She is rather a handsome young woman, with dark eyes, full red lips, and a suspicion of powder, a little under-dressed for the country. ROLF, mho brings up the rear, is about twenty, with an open face and stiffish butter-coloured hair. JILL runs over to her father at the window. She has a bottle.]
JILL. [Sotto voce] Look, Dodo, I've brought the lot! Isn't it a treat, dear Papa? And here's the stuff. Hallo!
[The exclamation is induced by the apprehension that there has been a row. HILLCRIST gives a stiff little bow, remaining where he is in the window. JILL, stays close to him, staring from one to the other, then blocks him off and engages him in conversation. CHARLES has gone up to his father, who has remained maliciously still, where he delivered his last speech. CHLOE and ROLF stand awkwardly waiting between the fireplace and the door.]
HORNBLOWER. Well, Chearlie?
CHARLES. Not got it.
HORNBLOWER. Not!
CHARLES. I'd practically got her to say she'd sell at three thousand five hundred, when that fellow Dawker turned up.
HORNBLOWER. That bull-terrier of a chap! Why, he was here a while ago. Oh—ho! So that's it!
CHARLES. I heard him gallop up. He came straight for the old lady, and got her away. What he said I don't know; but she came back looking wiser than an owl; said she'd think it over, thought she had other views.
HORNBLOWER. Did ye tell her she might have her price?
CHARLES. Practically I did.
HORNBLOWER. Well?
CHARLES. She thought it would be fairer to put it up to auction. There were other enquiries. Oh! She's a leery old bird—reminds me of one of those pictures of Fate, don't you know.
HORNBLOWER. Auction! Well, if it's not gone we'll get it yet. That damned little Dawker! I've had a row with Hillcrist.
CHARLES. I thought so.
[They are turning cautiously to look at HILLCRIST, when JILL steps forward.]
JILL. [Flushed and determined] That's not a bit sporting of you, Mr. Hornblower.
[At her words ROLE comes forward too.]
HORNBLOWER. Ye should hear both sides before ye say that, missy.
JILL. There isn't another side to turning out the Jackmans after you'd promised.
HORNBLOWER. Oh! dear me, yes. They don't matter a row of gingerbread to the schemes I've got for betterin' this neighbourhood.
JILL. I had been standing up for you; now I won't.
HOUNBLOWER. Dear, dear! What'll become of me?
JILL. I won't say anything about the other thing because I think it's beneath, dignity to notice it. But to turn poor people out of their cottages is a shame.
HORNBLOWER. Hoity me!
ROLF. [Suddenly] You haven't been doing that, father?
CHARLES. Shut up, Rolf!
HORNBLOWER. [Turning on ROLF] Ha! Here's a league o' Youth! My young whipper-snapper, keep your mouth shut and leave it to your elders to know what's right.
[Under the weight of this rejoinder ROLF stands biting his lips. Then he throws his head up.]
ROLF. I hate it!
HORNBLOWER. [With real venom] Oh! Ye hate it? Ye can get out of my house, then.
JILL. Free speech, Mr. Hornblower; don't be violent.
HORNBLOWER. Ye're right, young lady. Ye can stay in my house, Rolf, and learn manners. Come, Chearlie!
JILL. [Quite softly] Mr. Hornblower!
HILLCRIST. [From the window] Jill!
JILL. [Impatiently] Well, what's the good of it? Life's too short for rows, and too jolly!
ROLF. Bravo!
HORNBLOWER. [Who has shown a sign of weakening] Now, look here! I will not have revolt in my family. Ye'll just have to learn that a man who's worked as I have, who's risen as I have, and who knows the world, is the proper judge of what's right and wrong. I'll answer to God for me actions, and not to you young people.
JILL. Poor God!
HORNBLOWER. [Genuinely shocked] Ye blasphemous young thing! [To ROLF] And ye're just as bad, ye young freethinker. I won't have it.
HILLCRIST. [Who has come down, Right] Jill, I wish you would kindly not talk.
JILL. I can't help it.
CHARLES. [Putting his arm through HORNBLOWER'S] Come along, father! Deeds, not words.
HORNBLOWER. Ay! Deeds!
[MRS. HILLCRIST and DAWKERS have entered by the French window.]
MRS. H. Quite right!
[They all turn and look at her.]
HORNBLOWER. Ah! So ye put your dog on to it. [He throws out his finger at DAWKERS] Very smart, that—I give ye credit.
MRS. H. [Pointing to CHLOE, who has stood by herself, forgotten and uncomfortable throughout the scene] May I ask who this lady is?
[CHLOE turns round startled, and her vanity bag slips down her dress to the floor.]
HORNBLOWER. No, ma'am, ye may not, for ye know perfectly well.
JILL. I brought her in, mother [She moves to CHLOE's side.]
MRS. H. Will you take her out again, then.
HILLCRIST. Amy, have the goodness to remember–
MRS. H. That this is my house so far as ladies are concerned.
JILL. Mother!
[She looks astonished at CHLOE, who, about to speak, does not, passing her eyes, with a queer, half-scarred expression, from MRS. HILLCRIST to DAWKER.]
[To CHLOE] I'm awfully sorry. Come on!
[They go out, Left. ROLF hurries after them.]
CHARLES. You've insulted my wife. Why? What do you mean by it?
[MRS. HILLCRIST simply smiles.]
HILLCRIST. I apologise. I regret extremely. There is no reason why the ladies of your family or of mine should be involved in our quarrel. For Heaven's sake, let's fight like gentlemen.
HORNBLOWER. Catchwords—sneers! No; we'll play what ye call a skin game, Hillcrist, without gloves on; we won't spare each other. Ye look out for yourselves, for, begod, after this morning I mean business. And as for you, Dawker, ye sly dog, ye think yourself very clever; but I'll have the Centry yet. Come, Chearlie!
[They go out, passing JILL, who is coming in again, in the doorway.]
HILLCRIST. Well, Dawker?
DAWKER. [Grinning] Safe for the moment. The old lady'll put it up to auction. Couldn't get her to budge from that. Says she don't want to be unneighbourly to either. But, if you ask me, it's money she smells!
JILL. [Advancing] Now, mother
MRS. H. Well?
JILL. Why did you insult her?
MRS. H. I think I only asked you to take her out.
JILL. Why? Even if she is Old Combustion's daughter-in-law?
MRS. H. My dear Jill, allow me to judge the sort of acquaintances I wish to make. [She looks at DAWKER.]
JILL. She's all right. Lots of women powder and touch up their lips nowadays. I think she's rather a good sort; she was awfully upset.
MRS. H. Too upset.
JILL. Oh! don't be so mysterious, mother. If you know something, do spit it out!
MRS. H. Do you wish me to—er—"spit it out," Jack?
HILLCRIST. Dawker, if you don't mind–
[DAWKER, with a nod, passes away out of the French window.]
Jill, be respectful, and don't talk like a bargee.
JILL. It's no good, Dodo. It made me ashamed. It's just as—as caddish to insult people who haven't said a word, in your own house, as it is to be—old Hornblower.
MRS. H. You don't know what you're talking about.
HILLCRIST. What's the matter with young Mrs. Hornblower?
MRS. H. Excuse me, I shall keep my thoughts to myself at present.
[She looks coldly at JILL, and goes out through the French window.]
HILLCRIST. You've thoroughly upset your mother, Jill.
JILL. It's something Dawker's told her; I saw them. I don't like Dawker, father, he's so common.
HILLCRIST. My dear, we can't all be uncommon. He's got lots of go, You must apologise to your mother.
JILL. [Shaking-her clubbed hair] They'll make you do things you don't approve of, Dodo, if you don't look out. Mother's fearfully bitter when she gets her knife in. If old Hornblower's disgusting, it's no reason we should be.
HILLCRIST. So you think I'm capable—that's nice, Jill!
JILL. No, no, darling! I only want to warn you solemnly that mother'll tell you you're fighting fair, no matter what she and Dawker do.
HILLCRIST. [Smiling] Jill, I don't think I ever saw you so serious.
JILL. No. Because—[She swallows a lump in her throat] Well—I was just beginning to enjoy, myself; and now—everything's going to be bitter and beastly, with mother in that mood. That horrible old man! Oh, Dodo! Don't let them make you horrid! You're such a darling. How's your gout, ducky?
HILLCRIST. Better; lot better.
JILL. There, you see! That shows! It's going to be half-interesting for you, but not for—us.
HILLCRIST. Look here, Jill—is there anything between you and young what's-his-name—Rolf?
JILL. [Biting her lip] No. But—now it's all spoiled.
HILLCRIST. You can't expect me to regret that.
JILL. I don't mean any tosh about love's young dream; but I do like being friends. I want to enjoy things, Dodo, and you can't do that when everybody's on the hate. You're going to wallow in it, and so shall I—oh! I know I shall!—we shall all wallow, and think of nothing but "one for his nob."
HILLCRIST. Aren't you fond of your home?
JILL. Of course. I love it.
HILLCRIST. Well, you won't be able to live in it unless we stop that ruffian. Chimneys and smoke, the trees cut down, piles of pots. Every kind of abomination. There! [He points] Imagine! [He points through the French window, as if he could see those chimneys rising and marring the beauty of the fields] I was born here, and my father, and his, and his, and his. They loved those fields, and those old trees. And this barbarian, with his "improvement" schemes, forsooth! I learned to ride in the Centry meadows—prettiest spring meadows in the world; I've climbed every tree there. Why my father ever sold–! But who could have imagined this? And come at a bad moment, when money's scarce.
JILL. [Cuddling his arm] Dodo!
HILLCRIST. Yes. But you don't love the place as I do, Jill. You youngsters don't love anything, I sometimes think.
JILL. I do, Dodo, I do!
HILLCRIST. You've got it all before you. But you may live your life and never find anything so good and so beautiful as this old home. I'm not going to have it spoiled without a fight.
[Conscious of batting betrayed Sentiment, he walks out at the French window, passing away to the right. JILL following to the window, looks. Then throwing back her head, she clasps her hands behind it.]
JILL. Oh—oh-oh!
[A voice behind her says, "JILL!" She turns and starts back, leaning against the right lintel of the window. ROLF appears outside the window from Left.]
Who goes there?
ROLE. [Buttressed against the Left lintel] Enemy—after Chloe's bag.
JILL. Pass, enemy! And all's ill!
[ROLF passes through the window, and retrieves the vanity bag from the floor where CHLOE dropped it, then again takes his stand against the Left lintel of the French window.]
ROLF. It's not going to make any difference, is it?
JILL. You know it is.
ROLF. Sins of the fathers.
JILL. Unto the third and fourth generations. What sin has my father committed?
ROLF. None, in a way; only, I've often told you I don't see why you should treat us as outsiders. We don't like it.
JILL. Well, you shouldn't be, then; I mean, he shouldn't be.
ROLF. Father's just as human as your father; he's wrapped up in us, and all his "getting on" is for us. Would you like to be treated as your mother treated Chloe? Your mother's set the stroke for the other big-wigs about here; nobody calls on Chloe. And why not? Why not? I think it's contemptible to bar people just because they're new, as you call it, and have to make their position instead of having it left them.
JILL. It's not because they're new, it's because—if your father behaved like a gentleman, he'd be treated like one.
ROLF. Would he? I don't believe it. My father's a very able man; he thinks he's entitled to have influence here. Well, everybody tries to keep him down. Oh! yes, they do. That makes him mad and more determined than ever to get his way. You ought to be just, Jill.
JILL. I am just.
ROLF. No, you're not. Besides, what's it got to do with Charlie and Chloe? Chloe's particularly harmless. It's pretty sickening for her. Father didn't expect people to call until Charlie married, but since–
JILL. I think it's all very petty.
ROLF. It is—a dog-in-the-manger business; I did think you were above it.
JILL. How would you like to have your home spoiled?
ROLE. I'm not going to argue. Only things don't stand still. Homes aren't any more proof against change than anything else.
JILL. All right! You come and try and take ours.
ROLF. We don't want to take your home.
JILL. Like the Jackmans'?
ROLF. All right. I see you're hopelessly prejudiced.
[He turns to go.]
JILL. [Just as he is vanishing—softly] Enemy?
ROLF. [Turning] Yes, enemy.
JILL. Before the battle—let's shake hands.
[They move from the lintels and grasp each other's hands in the centre of the French window.]
CURTAIN
ACT II
SCENE I
A billiard room in a provincial hotel, where things are bought and sold. The scene is set well forward, and is not very broad; it represents the auctioneer's end of the room, having, rather to stage Left, a narrow table with two chairs facing the audience, where the auctioneer will sit and stand. The table, which is set forward to the footlights, is littered with green-covered particulars of sale. The audience are in effect public and bidders. There is a door on the Left, level with the table. Along the back wall, behind the table, are two raised benches with two steps up to them, such as billiard rooms often have, divided by a door in the middle of a wall, which is panelled in oak. Late September sunlight is coming from a skylight (not visible) on to these seats. The stage is empty when the curtain goes up, but DAWKERS, and MRS. HILLCRIST are just entering through the door at the back.
DAWKER. Be out of their way here, ma'am. See old Hornblower with Chearlie?
[He points down to the audience.]
MRS. H. It begins at three, doesn't it?
DAWKER. They won't be over-punctual; there's only the Centry selling. There's young Mrs. Hornblower with the other boy— [Pointing] over at the entrance. I've got that chap I told you of down from town.
MRS. H. Ah! make sure quite of her, Dawker. Any mistake would be fatal.
DAWKER. [Nodding] That's right, ma'am. Lot of peopled—always spare time to watch an auction—ever remark that? The Duke's agent's here; shouldn't be surprised if he chipped in.
MRS. H. Where did you leave my husband?
DAWKER. With Miss Jill, in the courtyard. He's coming to you. In case I miss him; tell him when I reach his limit to blow his nose if he wants me to go on; when he blows it a second time, I'll stop for good. Hope we shan't get to that. Old Hornblower doesn't throw his money away.
MRS. H. What limit did you settle?
DAWKER. Six thousand!
MRS. H. That's a fearful price. Well, good luck to you, Dawker!
DAWKER. Good luck, ma'am. I'll go and see to that little matter of Mrs. Chloe. Never fear, we'll do them is somehow.
[He winks, lays his finger on the side of his nose, and goes out at the door.]
[MRS. HILLCRIST mounts the two steps, sits down Right of the door, and puts up a pair of long-handled glasses. Through the door behind her come CHLOE and ROLF. She makes a sign for him to go, and shuts the door.]
CHLOE. [At the foot of the steps in the gangway—with a slightly common accent] Mrs. Hillcrist!
MRS. H. [Not quite starting] I beg your pardon?
CHLOE. [Again] Mrs. Hillcrist–
MRS. H. Well?
CHLOE. I never did you any harm.
MRS. H. Did I ever say you did?
CHLOE. No; but you act as if I had.
MRS. H. I'm not aware that I've acted at all—as yet. You are nothing to me, except as one of your family.
CHLOE. 'Tisn't I that wants to spoil your home.
MRS. H. Stop them then. I see your husband down there with his father.
CHLOE. I—I have tried.
MRS. H. [Looking at her] Oh! I suppose such men don't pay attention to what women ask them.
CHLOE. [With a flash of spirit] I'm fond of my husband. I–
MRS. H. [Looking at her steadily] I don't quite know why you spoke to me.
CHLOE. [With a sort of pathetic sullenness] I only thought perhaps you'd like to treat me as a human being.
MRS. H. Really, if you don't mind, I should like to be left alone just now.
CHLOE. [Unhappily acquiescent] Certainly! I'll go to the other end.
[She moves to the Left, mounts the steps and sits down.]
[ROLF, looking in through the door, and seeing where she is, joins her. MRS. HILLCRIST resettles herself a little further in on the Right.]
ROLF. [Bending over to CHLOE, after a glance at MRS. HILLCRIST.] Are you all right?
CHLOE. It's awfully hot.
[She fans herself wide the particulars of sale.]
ROLF. There's Dawker. I hate that chap!
CHLOE. Where?
ROLF. Down there; see?
[He points down to stage Right of the room.]
CHLOE. [Drawing back in her seat with a little gasp] Oh!
ROLF. [Not noticing] Who's that next him, looking up here?
CHLOE. I don't know.
[She has raised her auction programme suddenly, and sits fanning herself, carefully screening her face.]
ROLE. [Looking at her] Don't you feel well? Shall I get you some water? [He gets up at her nod.]
[As he reaches the door, HILLCRIST and JILL come in. HILLCRIST passes him abstractedly with a nod, and sits down beside his wife.]
JILL. [To ROLF] Come to see us turned out?
ROLF. [Emphatically] No. I'm looking after Chloe; she's not well.
JILL. [Glancing at her] Sorry. She needn't have come, I suppose?
[RALF deigns no answer, and goes out.]
[JILL glances at CHLOE, then at her parents talking in low voices, and sits down next her father, who makes room for her.]
MRS. H. Can Dawker see you there, Jack?
[HILLCRIST nods.]
What's the time?
HILLCRIST. Three minutes to three.
JILL. Don't you feel beastly all down the backs of your legs. Dodo?
HILLCRIST. Yes.
JILL. Do you, mother?
MRS. H. No.
JILL. A wagon of old Hornblower's pots passed while we were in the yard. It's an omen.
MRS. H. Don't be foolish, Jill.
JILL. Look at the old brute! Dodo, hold my hand.
MRS. H. Make sure you've got a handkerchief, Jack.
HILLCRIST. I can't go beyond the six thousand; I shall have to raise every penny on mortgage as it is. The estate simply won't stand more, Amy.
[He feels in his breast pocket, and pulls up the edge of his handkerchief.]
JILL. Oh! Look! There's Miss Mullins, at the back; just come in. Isn't she a spidery old chip?
MRS. H. Come to gloat. Really, I think her not accepting your offer is disgusting. Her impartiality is all humbug.
HILLCRIST. Can't blame her for getting what she can—it's human nature. Phew! I used to feel like this before a 'viva voce'. Who's that next to Dawker?
JILL. What a fish!
MRS. H. [To herself] Ah! yes.
[Her eyes slide round at CHLOE, silting motionless and rather sunk in her seat, slowly fanning herself with they particulars of the sale. Jack, go and offer her my smelling salts.]
HILLCRIST. [Taking the salts] Thank God for a human touch!
MRS. H. [Taken aback] Oh!
JILL. [With a quick look at her mother, snatching the salts] I will. [She goes over to CHLOE with the salts] Have a sniff; you look awfully white.
CHLOE. [Looking up, startled] Oh! no thanks. I'm all right.
JILL. No, do! You must. [CHLOE takes them.]
JILL. D'you mind letting me see that a minute?
[She takes the particulars of the sale and studies it, but CHLOE has buried the lower part of her face in her hand and the smelling salts bottle.]
Beastly hot, isn't it? You'd better keep that.
CHLOE. [Her dark eyes wandering and uneasy] Rolf's getting me some water.
JILL. Why do you stay? You didn't want to come, did you?
[CHLOE shakes her head.]
All right! Here's your water.
[She hands back the particulars and slides over to her seat, passing ROLF in the gangway, with her chin well up.]
[MRS. HILLCRIST, who has watched CHLOE and JILL and DAWKER, and his friend, makes an enquiring movement with her hand, but gets a disappointing answer.]
JILL. What's the time, Dodo?
HILLCRIST. [Looking at his watch] Three minutes past.
JILL. [Sighing] Oh, hell!
HILLCRIST. Jill!
JILL. Sorry, Dodo. I was only thinking. Look! Here he is! Phew!—isn't he–?
MRS. H. 'Sh!
The AUCTIONEER comes in Left and goes to the table. He is a square, short, brown-faced, common looking man, with clipped grey hair fitting him like a cap, and a clipped grey moustache. His lids come down over his quick eyes, till he can see you very sharply, and you can hardly see that he can see you. He can break into a smile at any moment, which has no connection with him, as it were. By a certain hurt look, however, when bidding is slow, he discloses that he is not merely an auctioneer, but has in him elements of the human being. He can wink with anyone, and is dressed in a snug-brown suit, with a perfectly unbuttoned waistcoat, a low, turned down collar, and small black and white sailor knot tie. While he is settling his papers, the HILLCRISTS settle themselves tensely. CHLOE has drunk her water and leaned back again, with the smelling salts to her nose. ROLF leans forward in the seat beside her, looking sideways at JILL. A SOLICITOR, with a grey beard, has joined the AUCTIONEER, at his table.
AUCTIONEER. [Tapping the table] Sorry to disappoint you, gentlemen, but I've only one property to offer you to-day, No. 1, The Centry, Deepwater. The second on the particulars has been withdrawn. The third that's Bidcot, desirable freehold mansion and farmlands in the Parish of Kenway—we shall have to deal with next week. I shall be happy to sell it you then with out reservation. [He looks again through the particulars in his hand, giving the audience time to readjust themselves to his statements] Now, gen'lemen, as I say, I've only the one property to sell. Freehold No. 1—all that very desirable corn and stock-rearing and parklike residential land known as the Centry, Deepwater, unique property an A.1. chance to an A.1. audience. [With his smile] Ought to make the price of the three we thought we had. Now you won't mind listening to the conditions of sale; Mr. Blinkard'll read 'em, and they won't wirry you, they're very short.
[He sits down and gives two little tape on the table.]
[The SOLICITOR rises and reads the conditions of sale in a voice which no one practically can hear. Just as he begins to read these conditions of sale, CHARLES HORNBLOWER enters at back. He stands a moment, glancing round at the HILLCRIST and twirling his moustache, then moves along to his wife and touches her.]
CHARLES. Chloe, aren't you well?
[In the start which she gives, her face is fully revealed to the audience.]
CHARLES. Come along, out of the way of these people.
[He jerks his head towards the HILLCRISTS. CHLOE gives a swift look down to the stage Right of the audience.]
CHLOE. No; I'm all right; it's hotter there.
CHARLES. [To ROLF] Well, look after her—I must go back.
[ROLF node. CHARLES, slides bank to the door, with a glance at the HILLCRISTS, of whom MRS. HILLCRIST has been watching like a lynx. He goes out, just as the SOLICITOR, finishing, sits down.]
AUCTIONEER. [Rising and tapping] Now, gen'lemen, it's not often a piece of land like this comes into the market. What's that? [To a friend in front of him] No better land in Deepwater—that's right, Mr. Spicer. I know the village well, and a charming place it is; perfect locality, to be sure. Now I don't want to wirry you by singing the praises of this property; there it is—well-watered, nicely timbered—no reservation of the timber, gen'lemen—no tenancy to hold you up; free to do what you like with it to-morrow. You've got a jewel of a site there, too; perfect position for a house. It lies between the Duke's and Squire Hillcrist's—an emerald isle. [With his smile] No allusion to Ireland, gen'lemen—perfect peace in the Centry. Nothing like it in the county—a gen'leman's site, and you don't get that offered you every day. [He looks down towards HORNBLOWER, stage Left] Carries the mineral rights, and as you know, perhaps, there's the very valuable Deepwater clay there. What am I to start it at? Can I say three thousand? Well, anything you like to give me. I'm sot particular. Come now, you've got more time than me, I expect. Two hundred acres of first-rate grazin' and cornland, with a site for a residence unequalled in the county; and all the possibilities! Well, what shall I say?
[Bid from SPICER.]
Two thousand? [With his smile] That won't hurt you, Mr. Spicer. Why, it's worth that to overlook the Duke. For two thousand?
[Bid from HORNBLOWER, stage Left.]
And five. Thank you, sir. Two thousand five hundred bid.
[To a friend just below him.]
Come, Mr. Sandy, don't scratch your head over it.
[Bid from DAWKER, Stage Right.]
And five. Three thousand bid for this desirable property. Why, you'd think it wasn't desirable. Come along, gen'lemen. A little spirit.
[A alight pause.]
JILL. Why can't I see the bids, Dodo?
HILLCRIST. The last was Dawker's.
AUCTIONEER. For three thousand. [HORNBLOWER] Three thousand five hundred? May I say—four? [A bid from the centre] No, I'm not particular; I'll take hundreds. Three thousand six hundred bid. [HORNBLOWER] And seven. Three thousand seven hundred, and–
[He pauses, quartering the audience.]
JILL. Who was that, Dodo?
HILLCRIST. Hornblower. It's the Duke in the centre.
AUCTIONEER. Come, gen'lemen, don't keep me all day. Four thousand may I say? [DAWKER] Thank you. We're beginning. And one? [A bid from the centre] Four thousand one hundred. [HORNBLOWER] Four thousand two hundred. May I have yours, sir? [To DAWKER] And three. Four thousand three hundred bid. No such site in the county, gen'lemen. I'm going to sell this land for what it's worth. You can't bid too much for me. [He smiles] [HORNBLOWER] Four thousand five hundred bid. [Bid from the centre] And six. [DAWKER] And seven. [HORNBLOWER] And eight. Nine, may I say? [But the centre has dried up] [DAWKER] And nine. [HORNBLOWER] Five thousand. Five thousand bid. That's better; there's some spirit in it. For five thousand.
[He pauses while he speak& to the SOLICITOR]
HILLCRIST. It's a duel now.
AUCTIONEER. Now, gen'lemen, I'm not going to give this property away. Five thousand bid. [DAWKER] And one. [HORNBLOWER] And two. [DAWKER] And three. Five thousand three hundred bid. And five, did you say, sir? [HORNBLOWER] Five thousand five hundred bid.
[He looks at hip particulars.]
JILL. [Rather agonised] Enemy, Dodo.
AUCTIONEER. This chance may never come again.
"How you'll regret it
If you don't get it,"
as the poet says. May I say five thousand six hundred, sir? [DAWKER] Five thousand six hundred bid. [HORNBLOWER] And seven. [DAWKER] And eight. For five thousand eight hundred pounds. We're gettin' on, but we haven't got the value yet.
[A slight pause, while he wipes his brow at the success of his own efforts.]
JILL. Us, Dodo?
[HILLCRIST nods. JILL looks over at ROLF, whose face is grimly set. CHLOE has never moved. MRS. HILLCRIST whispers to her husband.]
AUCTIONEER. Five thousand eight hundred bid. For five thousand eight hundred. Come along, gen'lemen, come along. We're not beaten. Thank you, sir. [HORNBLOWER] Five thousand nine hundred. And—? [DAWKER] Six thousand. Six thousand bid. Six thousand bid. For six thousand! The Centry—most desirable spot in the county—going for the low price of six thousand.
HILLCRIST. [Muttering] Low! Heavens!
AUCTIONEER. Any advance on six thousand? Come, gen'lemen, we haven't dried up? A little spirit. Six thousand? For six thousand? For six thousand pounds? Very well, I'm selling. For six thousand once—[He taps] For six thousand twice—[He taps].
JILL. [Low] Oh! we've got it!
AUCTIONEER. And one, sir? [HORNBLOWER] Six thousand one hundred bid.
[The SOLICITOR touches his arm and says something, to which the AUCTIONEER responds with a nod.]
MRS. H. Blow your nose, Jack.
[HILLCRIST blows his nose.]
AUCTIONEER. For six thousand one hundred. [DAWKER] And two. Thank you. [HORNBLOWER] And three. For six thousand three hundred. [DAWKER] And four. For six thousand four hundred pounds. This coveted property. For six thousand four hundred pounds. Why, it's giving it away, gen'lemen. [A pause.]
MRS. H. Giving!
AUCTIONEER. Six thousand four hundred bid. [HORNBLOWER] And five. [DAWKER] And six. [HORNBLOWER] And seven. [DAWKER] And eight.
[A pause, during which, through the door Left, someone beckons to the SOLICITOR, who rises and confers.]
HILLCRIST. [Muttering] I've done if that doesn't get it.
AUCTIONEER. For six thousand eight hundred. For six thousand eight hundred-once—[He taps] twice—[He tape] For the last time. This dominating site. [HORNBLOWER] And nine. Thank you. For six thousand nine hundred.
[HILLCRIST has taken out his handkerchief.]
JILL. Oh! Dodo!
MRS. H. [Quivering] Don't give in!
AUCTIONEER. Seven thousand may I say? [DAWKER] Seven thousand.
MRS. H. [Whispers] Keep it down; don't show him.
AUCTIONEER. For seven-thousand—going for seven thousand—once— [Taps] twice [Taps] [HORNBLOWER] And one. Thank you, sir.
[HILLCRIST blows his nose. JILL, with a choke, leans back in her seat and folds her arms tightly on her chest. MRS. HILLCRIST passes her handkerchief over her lips, sitting perfectly still. HILLCRIST, too, is motionless.]
[The AUCTIONEER, has paused, and is talking to the SOLICITOR, who has returned to his seat.]
MRS. H. Oh! Jack.
JILL. Stick it, Dodo; stick it!
AUCTIONEER. Now, gen'lemen, I have a bid of seven thousand one hundred for the Centry. And I'm instructed to sell if I can't get more. It's a fair price, but not a big price. [To his friend MR. SPICER] A thumpin' price? [With his smile] Well, you're a judge of thumpin', I admit. Now, who'll give me seven thousand two hundred? What, no one? Well, I can't make you, gen'lemen. For seven thousand one hundred. Once—[Taps] Twice—[Taps].
[JILL utters a little groan.]