Now you are merely being offensive.
RICHARD. I beg your pardon. I should have said that if he had left you five pounds in his will?--well, then twenty pounds? a hundred pounds?--a thousand pounds?--fifty thousand pounds?--(Jumping up excitedly) It's only a question of price--fifty thousand pounds, Robert--a pink tie with purple spots, hair across the back, trousers with a patch in the fall myself Wurzel-Flummery--any old thing you like, you can't insult me--anything you like, gentlemen, for fifty thousand pounds. (Lowering his voice) Only you must leave it in your will, and then I can feel that it is a sacred duty--a sacred duty, my lords and gentlemen. (He sinks back into the sofa and relights his pipe.)
CRAWSHAW. (rising with dignity). It is evidently useless to prolong this conversation.
RICHARD (waving him dorm again). No, no, Robert; I've finished. I just took the other side--and I got carried away. I ought to have been at the Bar.
CRAWSHAW. You take such extraordinary views of things. You must look facts in the face, Richard. This is a modern world, and we are modern people living in it. Take the matter-of-fact view. You may like or dislike the name of--ah--Wurzel-Flummery, but you can't get away from the fact that fifty thousand pounds is not to be sneezed at.
RICHARD (wistfully). I don't know why people shouldn't sneeze at money sometimes. I should like to start a society for sneezing at fifty thousand pounds. We'd have to begin in a small way, of course; we'd begin by sneezing at five pounds--and work up. The trouble is that we're all inoculated in our cradles against that kind of cold.
CRAWSHAW (pleasantly). You will have your little joke. But you know as well as I do that it is only a joke. There can be no serious reason why I should not take this money. And I--ah--gather that you don't think it will affect my career?
RICHARD (carelessly). Not a bit. It'll help it. It'll get you into all the comic papers.
[MARGARET comes in at this moment, to the relief of CRAWSHAW, who is not quite certain if he is being flattered or insulted again.]
MARGARET. Well, have you told him?
RICHARD (making way for her on the sofa). I have heard the news, Mrs. Crawshaw. And I have told Robert my opinion that he should have no difficulty in making the name of Wurzel-Flummery as famous as he has already made that of Crawshaw. At any rate I hope he will.
MARGARET. How nice of you! CRAWSHAW. Well, it's settled, then. (Looking at his watch) This solicitor fellow should be here soon. Perhaps, after all, we can manage something about--Ah, Viola, did you want your mother?
[Enter VIOLA.]
VIOLA. Sorry, do I interrupt a family meeting? There's Richard, so it can't be very serious.
RICHARD. What a reputation!
CRAWSHAW. Well, it's over now.
MARGARET. Viola had better know, hadn't she?
CRAWSHAW. She'll have to know some time, of course.
VIOLA (sitting done firmly on the sofa). Of course she will. So you'd better tell her now. I knew there was something exciting going on this morning.
CRAWSHAW (embarrassed). Hum--ha--(To MARGARET) Perhaps you'd better tell her, dear.
MARGARET (simply and naturally). Father has come into some property, Viola. It means changing our name unfortunately. But your father doesn't think it will matter.
VIOLA. How thrilling! What is the name, mother?
MARGARET. Your father says it is--dear me, I shall never remember it.
CRAWSHAW (mumbling). Wurzel-Flummery.
VIOLA (after a pause). Dick, _you_ tell me, if nobody else will.
RICHARD. Robert said it just now.
VIOLA. That wasn't a name, was it? I thought it was just a--do say it again, father.
CRAWSHAW (sulkily but plainly). Wurzel-Flummery.
VIOLA (surprised). Do you spell it like that? I mean like a wurzel and like flummery?
RICHARD. Exactly, I believe.
VIOLA (to herself). Miss Viola Wurzel-Flummery--I mean they'd have to look at you, wouldn't they? (Bubbling over) Oh, Dick, what a heavenly name! Who had it first?
RICHARD. They are an old Hampshire family--that is so, isn't it, Robert?
CRAWSHAW (annoyed). I said I thought that I remembered--Margaret, can you find Burke there?
(She finds it, and he buries himself in the families of the great.)
MARGARET. Well, Viola, you haven't told us how you like being Miss Wurzel-Flummery.
VIOLA. I haven't realized myself yet, mummy. I shall have to stand in front of my glass and tell myself who I am.
RICHARD. It's all right for you. You know you'll change your name one day, and then it won't matter what you've been called before.
VIOLA (secretly). H'sh! (She smiles lovingly at him, and then says aloud) Oh, won't it? It's got to appear in the papers, "A marriage has been arranged between Miss Viola Wurzel-Flummery..." and everybody will say, "And about time too, poor girl."
MARGARET (to CRAWSHAW). Have you found it, dear?
CRAWSHAW (resentfully). This is the 1912 edition.
MARGARET. Still, dear, if it's a very old family, it ought to be in by then.
VIOLA. I don't mind how old it is; I think it's lovely. Oh, Dick, what fun it will be being announced! Just think of the footman throwing open the door and saying--
MAID (announcing). Mr. Denis Clifton.
(There is a little natural confusion as CLIFTON enters jauntily in his summer suiting with a bundle of papers under his arm. CRAWSHAW goes towards him and shakes hands.)
CRAWSHAW. How do you do, Mr. Clifton? Very good of you to come. (Looking doubtfully at his clothes) Er--it is Mr. Denis Clifton, the solicitor?
CLIFTON (cheerfully). It is. I must apologize for not looking the part more, but my clothes did not arrive from Clarkson's in time. Very careless of them when they had promised. And my clerk dissuaded me from the side-whiskers which I keep by me for these occasions.
CRAWSHAW (bewildered). Ah yes, quite so. But you have--ah--full legal authority to act in this matter?
CLIFTON..
