The Prude's Progress: A Comedy in Three Acts

THE PRUDE'S PROGRESS.

THE FIRST ACT.

The scene represents a room high up in a Bloomsbury lodging-house. It is poorly, but not sordidly, furnished; and here and there are touches of taste, and some attempt at comfort. Nelly Morris, a young girl, dressed in a very old frock, the shabbiness of which she has attempted to hide by various feminine devices, is discovered sitting L. of table. A pile of medical books, topped by a skull, faces her. She is sitting with her elbows on table, her head in her hands, looking up at, and talking to, the skull.

NELLY MORRIS.

Did you ever know what it was to be poor-real poor I mean? Do you know what Ted and I have got for dinner? Three sausages between us! That's one and a half--no, two for him because he's working, and one for me. And do you know what I am longing for more than anything else in the world? A great plate of roast beef--heaps of beef--and Yorkshire pudding and potatoes--large potatoes. (Sniffs in the air.) Did you ever feel like that? Did you ever try studying for an exam, on bread-and-butter for breakfast, bread-and-butter for dinner (when it won't run to the sausages), and bread, without butter, for supper, like poor Ted has to? Do you think he'll be able to learn enough on it to pass? Do you? (Breaking down.) Ah! you only grin at it all. 'Tis funny, isn't it? (Laughing hysterically.) I suppose we shall grin at it all when we are as old as you.

(The door at back opens, and Mrs. Wheedles, an old lady of the Mrs. Gummidge type, enters. Nelly hastily wipes away her tears.)

MRS. WHEEDLES.

Oh! my dear, you gave me quite a turn. I made sure you'd got someone here.

NELLY MORRIS.

Only old Tapley, Mrs. Wheedles. I talk to him about my worries and he teaches me to laugh at them. Do you see how he's smiling? (Takes skull and shows its face to Mrs Wheedles.)

MRS. WHEEDLES.

(Pushing it away.) Oh, my dear, don't. You make me feel quite creepy. I do wish your brother wouldn't leave his bones about as he does. It's really hardly decent.

NELLY MORRIS.

We'll put something over him. (Takes the skull to mantelpiece and ties pocket-handkerchief round it.) You are shocking the susceptibilities of the British Matron, Mr. Tapley. You must be dressed.

MRS. WHEEDLES.

He doesn't look very well to-day, does he?

NELLY MORRIS.

What, Mr. Tapley? Oh, much the same as----

MRS. WHEEDLES.

Lor', no, my dear! how your mind does run on that nasty things I was speaking of your brother.

NELLY MORRIS.

You don't think he's going to break down?

MRS. WHEEDLES.

Oh no, my dear--at least we'll hope for the best. He seemed a bit pale, that's all.

(Nelly takes books from the table and puts them away in case, and in other ways tidies up the room while talking.)

NELLY MORRIS.

He's working so hard you see--so terribly hard. He'll be able to rest a bit when he's passed his exam.

MRS. WHEEDLES.

Yes, of course--that is if he does pass it.

NELLY MORRIS.

Don't say "if," Mrs. Wheedles, please. You don't know what it means to us. He must pass--he must. He's worked so hard.

MRS. WHEEDLES.

Ah, it's never those who know the most that do pass. I've had a few medicos, as they call themselves, through my hands, and it's always the ones that will never know the difference between croup and rheumatism that get through.

NELLY MORRIS.

I'm afraid that doesn't promise very well for Ted.

MRS. WHEEDLES.

No, my dear, I am sorely afraid he won't pass--sorely afraid. But there, you can never tell, and one should always look on the bright side of things, they say. (Beginning to cry.)

NELLY MORRIS.

You don't help one to do so very much, Mrs. Wheedles.

MRS. WHEEDLES.