The Profligate 7
Frankly, the trustees were most inadequately provided for under the
Will.
HUGH MURRAY.
Very well--relieve yourself of the trust and throw the estate into
Chancery, and from this moment I undertake to bear on my shoulders the
responsibilities of Miss Brudenell’s future.
MR. CHEAL.
My dear sir, you talk as if the young lady were not deeply in love with
Mr. Renshaw.
HUGH MURRAY.
What judge is a school-girl of the worth of a man? Of course she falls
in love with the first she meets.
MR. CHEAL.
Nothing of the kind. Why, for that matter, Miss Brudenell knew _you_
before she met Mr. Renshaw.
HUGH MURRAY.
Yes, yes--I know!
MR. CHEAL.
You have been down to the school at Helmstead often enough--why on
earth didn’t the child fall in love with you?
HUGH MURRAY.
No--true, true. But I have no pretensions to---- of course--I---- [_He
strikes a bell._] I fear my argument has been very poor.
[_EPHGRAVES ushers in LESLIE BRUDENELL, a sweet-looking girl,
tastefully but simply dressed, who is accompanied by her brother
WILFRID, a handsome, boyish young man of about one-and-twenty, and
her maid PRISCILLA, a healthy-looking country girl._]
LESLIE.
Oh, Mr. Cheal, am I late?
MR. CHEAL.
Late, my dear--no. Good morning, Mr. Brudenell.
WILFRID BRUDENELL.
Leslie was ready to start at seven o’clock this morning and broke the
hotel-bell ringing for breakfast.
LESLIE.
Oh, don’t tell about me, Will, dear.
MR. CHEAL.
Let me know when the carriage arrives, Mr. Ephgraves.
EPHGRAVES.
Yes, sir. [_EPHGRAVES goes out._]
LESLIE.
[_Offering her hand._] Mr. Murray.
HUGH MURRAY.
Were you very frightened lest you should be late?
LESLIE.
Yes, _very_.
HUGH MURRAY.
Of course you were.
LESLIE.
For _his_ sake--he would suffer so if I kept him waiting. Where is he?
HUGH MURRAY.
At the Registrar’s.
LESLIE.
Why aren’t you with him? You promised.
HUGH MURRAY.
I am busy.
LESLIE.
Oh, how unkind to be busy on such a morning! Will, Mr. Murray won’t
come to the wedding.
WILFRID BRUDENELL.
That’s a shame. How d’y’r do, Mr. Murray?
MR. CHEAL.
H’m! _I_ shall be there.
WILFRID BRUDENELL.
Yes, but Leslie wants her London Mother as well as her London Father.
MR. CHEAL.
Eh? What’s that?
LESLIE.
Nothing--be quiet, Will!
MR. CHEAL.
What is the meaning of a London father and----
WILFRID BRUDENELL.
I’ll tell you----
LESLIE.
No, no--you tell things so roughly. My London Father is a name the
school-girls gave you, Mr. Cheal, because you are my guardian in
London and look after me. And when Mr. Murray began to come down to
Helmstead about once a month to see that I was happy, they set about to
invent some title for him too. And as I couldn’t have two fathers and
I already had a real brother they called Mr. Murray my London Mother,
because he was so thoughtful and tender, just as my school-fellows told
me their mothers are.
MR. CHEAL.
H’m! Well, my dear, all that is very nice for school-girls, but it is
what practical people call stuff and nonsense. I’ll go and get my hat.
[_He goes out._]
LESLIE.
Mr. Cheal is angry.
HUGH MURRAY.
No, no.
LESLIE.
He is. He said “stuff and nonsense” the other day when I begged him to
let me be married in a church, and now----
HUGH MURRAY.
Ah, don’t think of Mr. Cheal’s very business-like manner.
LESLIE.
I can’t help it. Tell me, Mr. Murray, does everything simple become
stuff and nonsense when you get married?
HUGH MURRAY.
How should I know, my child? I am an old bachelor. [_PRISCILLA beckons
LESLIE._]
PRISCILLA.
Missy--Miss--you’re untidy again!
LESLIE.
Oh, no, don’t say that!
[_PRISCILLA arranges LESLIE’S costume._]
LESLIE.
The little mirror, Priscilla. [_Surveying herself critically as the sunlight enters at the windows._] Priscilla, I’m getting uglier as the day wears on.
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