Garside's Career: A Comedy in Four Acts

Mrs. G. (rising and putting spectacles back on mantelpiece, speaking ungraciously). No, you've got a right to hear it too, Margaret. (Margaret picks up paper.) I can't find anything in that.

Mar. Peter said the results come out too late for the evening papers.

Mrs. G. He never told me. (Margaret folds paper on table.) I'm glad though. There's no one else _'_ull know a-front of me. He'll bring the good news home himself. He's coming now as fast as train and car _'_ull bring him. (Sitting in rocking-chair.)

Mar. Yes. He knows we're waiting here, we two who care for Peter more than anything on earth.

Mrs. G. (giving her a jealous glance). I wish he'd come.

Mar. Try to be calm, Mrs. Garside.

Mrs. G. (irritably). Calm? How can I be calm? I'm on edge till I know. (Rocking her chair quickly.)

Mar. (trying to soothe her). It isn't as if he can't try again if he's not through this time.

Mrs. G. (confidently, keeping her chair still). He'll have no need to try again. I've a son and his name this night is Peter Garside, b.a. I know he's through.

Mar. (sitting in chair lift of table). Then if you're sure----

Mrs. G. Yes. I know I'm a fidget. I want to hear it from his own lips. He's worked so hard he can't fail. (Accusingly.) You don't believe me, Margaret. You're not sure of him.

Mar. (with elbows on table and head on hands). I'm fearful of the odds against him--the chances that the others have and he hasn't. Peter's to work for his living. They're free to study all day long. (Rising, enthusiastically.) Oh, if he does it, what a triumph for our class. Peter Garside, the Board School boy, the working engineer, keeping himself and you, and studying at night for his degree.

Mrs. G. (dogmatically). The odds don't count. I know Peter. Peter's good enough for any odds. You doubt him, Margaret.

Mar. No. I've seen him work. I've worked with him till he distanced me and left me far behind. He knows enough to pass, to pass above them all----

Mrs. G. Yes, yes!

Mar. But examinations are a fearful hazard.

Mrs. G. Not to Peter. He's fighting for his class, he's showing them he's the better man. He can work with his hands and they can't, and he can work with his brain as well as the best of them.

Mar. He'll do it. It may not be this time, but he'll do it in the end.

Mrs. G. (obstinately). This time, Margaret.

Mar. I do hope so.

Mrs. G. (looking at the clock). Do you think there's been a breakdown on the cars?

Mar. No, no.

Mrs. G. (rising anxiously). He said seven, and it's after that.

Mar. (trying to soothe her). Not much.

Mrs. G. (pacing about). Why doesn't he come? (Stopping short.) Where do people go to find out if there's been an accident? It's the police station, isn't it?

Mrs. G. (going to him; he puts his arm round her and pats her back, while she hides her face against his chest). My boy, my boy!

Peter. I've done it, mother. (Looking proudly at Margaret.) I'm an honours man of Midlandton University.

Mar. First class, Peter?

Peter. Yes. First Class. (Gently disengaging himself from Mrs. Garside.)

Mrs. G. (standing by his left, looking up at him). I knew, I knew it, Peter. I had the faith in you.

Peter (hanging his cap behind the door right, then coming back to centre. Margaret is standing on the hearthrug). Ah, little mother, what a help that faith has been to me. I couldn't disappoint a faith like yours. I had to win. Mother, Margaret, I've done it. Done it. Oh, I think I'm not quite sane to-night. This room seems small all of a sudden. I want to leap, to dance, and I know I'd break my neck against the ceiling if I did. Peter Garside, b.a. (Approaching Margaret.) Margaret, tell me I deserve it. You know what it means to me. The height of my ambition. The crown, the goal, my target reached at last. Margaret, isn't it a great thing that I've done?

Mar. (taking both his hands). A great thing, Peter.

Peter. Oh, but I was lucky in my papers.

Mar. No, you just deserve it all.

Peter (dropping her hands). Up to the end I didn't know. I thought I'd failed. And here I'm through first class. I've beaten men I never hoped to equal. I've called myself a swollen-headed fool for dreaming to compete with them, and now----