Dolly Reforming Herself. Henry Arthur Jones
Well, I haven't got the money sense! I simply haven't got it! I was born without it!
Matt. [Hands her the bill.] The addition is quite correct.
Dolly. [Taking the bill.] You're sure? Then I'm convinced I've paid it! [Looking at bill.] Yes! Thirty-four, seven, six. Professor Sturgess——
Prof. [Looks up from his book] Yes?
Dolly. You understand all about psychology and the way our brains work.
Prof. I've given my entire life to their study, but I cannot claim that I understand them.
Dolly. But wouldn't you say——
Prof. What?
Dolly. I'm morally certain I've paid this bill.
Matt. Have you got the receipt?
Dolly. No! I must have mislaid it.
Matt. When, and where did you pay it?
Dolly. I cannot recall the exact circumstances. And now——
Matt. And now——?
Dolly. Fulks and Garner have sent me a most impertinent note requesting immediate payment.
Prof. What is the particular brain process that you wish me to explain?
Dolly. How do you account for my having the most vivid impression that I've paid it—so vivid that I cannot shake it off?
Prof. Well—a——
Matt. Isn't it an instance of that obscure operation of the feminine mind whereby the merest wish becomes an accomplished fact?
Dolly. My dear Dad, I actually remember the exact amount: thirty-four, seven, six. Thirty-four, seven, six. I shall never enter Fulks and Garnet's shop again!
Enter Criddle. [Announces.] Captain Wentworth!
Enter Captain Lucas Wentworth, a good-looking smart young army man about thirty. He is in riding-clothes. Exit Criddle. At Captain Wentworth's entrance Renie shows keen interest, throws him a secret glance as he goes to shake hands with Dolly.
Dolly. Ah, Lu! What, over again! Happy New Year once more!
Lucas. Same to you. [Shaking hands.] Happy New Year, everybody! Good afternoon, Harry!
[Nodding to Harry.
Harry. Ditto, Lu.
Lucas. Ah, Uncle Matt! Happy New Year!
[Shaking hands.
Matt. Happy New Year, Lucas!
Lucas. Good afternoon, Mrs. Sturgess.
[Shaking hands with Renie.
Renie. Good afternoon.
Lucas. None the worse for your outing last night, I hope?
Renie. Oh no, I'm sure Mr. Pilcher's sermon ought to make us all very much better.
Dolly. May I introduce you to Professor Sturgess—my cousin Captain Wentworth.
Lucas. How d'ye do?
Prof. How d'ye do?
Matt. So you came over to the Watch-night Service, I hear?
Lucas. Yes! I'd nothing much better to do, and Dolly was cracking up this new parson of yours, so I thought I'd jog over and sample him.
Matt. A dozen miles over here at midnight; an hour's service in a cold church; and a dozen miles back to Aldershot, in the sleet and snow. I hope the sermon thoroughly braced you up!
Lucas. It did. It made me feel just as good as I knew how to be.
Matt. Here's another score for Pilcher!
Dolly. Dad, I think it's shocking bad taste of you to keep on sneering at Mr. Pilcher!
Matt. I'm not sneering. I'm only curious to follow up this wonderful sermon, and trace its results on all of you.
Dolly. Well, you can see its results. [Lucas has got near to Renie, stands with his back to her, takes out a letter from his coat-tail pocket, holds it out for her to take. She takes it, pops it in her novel, and goes on reading. He moves away from her.] Take only our own family. Harry and I both have turned over a new leaf. Renie, you said Mr. Pilcher had set you thinking deeply——
Renie. Yes, dear, very deeply.
Dolly. Lu, you said the sermon had done you a lot of good.
Lucas. Heaps! I won't say I'm going to set up for a saint straight off, because—well—I'm not so sure I could bring it off, even if I tried——
Matt. That's what holds me back, my wretched nervous fear that I shouldn't bring it off. Still, in justice to Pilcher, I hope you're not going to let his sermon be wasted.
Lucas. Oh, no! My first spare five minutes I'm going to brisk about, and do a bit of New Year's tidying up.
[He is standing over Renie, who has opened his letter in her novel; he again exchanges a secret look of understanding with her, and makes a sign to her to go into the conservatory.
Enter Criddle.
Criddle. [Announcing.] Mr. Pilcher!
Enter the Reverend James Pilcher, a big, strong, bright, genial, manly, hearty English parson about forty. Exit Criddle.
Dolly. How d'ye do? [Shaking hands.
Pilcher. How d'ye do? Happy New Year, once more! Happy New Year, Mr. Barron!
Matt. [Shaking hands.] A happy New Year.
Pilcher. How do again, Telfer?
Harry. How are you?
Pilcher. Good morning, Mrs. Sturgess.
Renie. Good morning.
[At Pilcher's entrance she has hidden her French novel behind her in the chair. In shaking hands with Pilcher it drops on to the floor and Lucas's letter drops out. Lucas goes to pick it up, Mr. Pilcher is before him, picks up the novel and letter and hands them to Renie. In taking them she shows some confusion.
Pilcher. [Genially.] Improving the New Year by getting a thorough knowledge of Parisian life and manners, I see.
Renie. [Confused.] No!—I had begun the book a week ago and so I thought—a—I'd better finish it.
Lucas. Good morning, Mr. Pilcher.
Pilcher. [Shaking hands.] Good morning.
Lucas. Rattling good sermon you gave us last night.
Pilcher. I'm glad you thought it worth coming so far to hear.
Lucas. Not at all. Jolly well worth coming for, eh, Mrs. Sturgess?
[With a sly little look and shake of the head at Renie.
Renie. I thoroughly enjoyed it!
Pilcher. [A little surprised.] Enjoyed it! Now I meant to make you all very uncomfortable!
Dolly. Oh, you gave us a good shaking up, and we deserved it! I don't think you've met Professor Sturgess?
Pilcher. [Advancing to Professor.] No, but I've read his book, "Man, the Automaton."
Prof.