SCENE I.—The Schoolroom (Ugh!)
OLIVER is discovered lying flat on his—well, lying flat on the floor, deep in a book. The CURATE puts his head in at the door.
CURATE. Ah, our young friend, Oliver! And how are we this morning, dear lad?
OLIVER (mumbling). All right, thanks.
CURATE. That's well, that's well. Deep in our studies, I see, deep in our studies. And what branch of Knowledge are we pursuing this morning?
OLIVER (without looking up). "Marooned in the Pacific," or "The Pirate's Bride."
CURATE. Dear, dear, what will Miss Pinniger say to this interruption of our studies?
OLIVER. Silly old beast.
CURATE. Tut-tut, dear lad, that is not the way to speak of our mentors and preceptors. So refined and intelligent a lady as Miss Pinniger. Indeed I came here to see her this morning on a little matter of embroidered vestments. Where is she, dear lad?
OLIVER. It isn't nine yet.
CURATE (looking at his watch). Past nine, past nine.
OLIVER (jumping up). Je-hoshaphat!
CURATE. Oliver! Oliver! My dear lad! Swearing at your age! Really, I almost feel it my duty to inform your aunt——
OLIVER. Fat lot of swearing in just mentioning one of the Kings of Israel.
CURATE. Of Judah, dear boy, of Judah. To be ignorant on such a vital matter makes it even more reprehensible. I cannot believe that our dear Miss Pinniger has so neglected your education that——
Enter our dear MISS PINNIGER, the Governess.
GOVERNESS. Ah, Mr. Smilax; how pleasant to see you!
CURATE. My dear Miss Pinniger! You will forgive me for interrupting you in your labours, but there is a small matter of—ah!——
GOVERNESS. Certainly, Mr. Smilax. I will walk down to the gate with you. Oliver, where is Geraldine?
OLIVER. Aunt Jane wanted her.
GOVERNESS. Well, you should be at your lessons. It's nine o'clock. The fact that I am momentarily absent from the room should make no difference to your zeal.
OLIVER (without conviction). No, Miss Pinniger. (He sits down at his desk, putting "Marooned in the Pacific" inside it.)
CURATE (playfully). For men must work, Oliver, men must work. How doth the little busy bee—Yes, Miss Pinniger, I am with you. [They go out.
OLIVER (opening his poetry book and saying it to himself). It was a summer evening—It was a summer evening—(He stops, refers to the book, and then goes on to himself) Old Kaspar's work was done. It was a summer evening, Old Kaspar's work was done——
Enter GERALDINE—or JILL.
JILL. Where's Pin?
OLIVER. Hallo, Jill. Gone off with Dearly Belovéd. Her momentary absence from the room should make no difference to your zeal, my dear Geraldine. And what are we studying this morning, dear child? (To himself) It was a summer evening, Old Kaspar's work was done.
JILL (giggling). Is that Pin?
OLIVER. Pin and Dearly Belovéd between them. She's a bit batey this morning.
JILL (at her desk). And all my sums have done themselves wrong. (Hard at it with paper and pencil) What's nine times seven, Oliver?
OLIVER. Fifty-six. Old Kaspar's work was done. Jolly well wish mine was. And he before his cottage door. Fat lot of good my learning this stuff if I'm going to be a sailor. I bet Beatty didn't mind what happened to rotten old Kaspar when he saw a German submarine.
JILL. Six and carry five. Aunt Jane has sent for the doctor to look at my chest.
OLIVER. What's the matter with your chest?
JILL. I blew my nose rather loud at prayers this morning.
OLIVER. I say, Jill, you are going it!
JILL. It wasn't my fault, Oliver. Aunt Jane turned over two pages at once and made me laugh, so I had to turn it into a blow.
OLIVER. Bet you what you like she knew.
JILL. Of course she did, and she'll tell the doctor, and he'll be as beastly as he can. What did she say to you for being late?
OLIVER. I said somebody had bagged my sponge, and she wouldn't like me to come down to prayers all unsponged, and she said, "Excuses, Oliver, always excuses! Leave me. I will see you later." Suppose that means I've got to go to bed this afternoon. Jill, if I do, be sporty and bring me up "Marooned in the Pacific."
JILL. They'll lock the door. They always do.
OLIVER. Then I shall jolly well go up for a handkerchief this morning, and shove it in the bed, just in case. Cavé—here's Pin.
MISS PINNIGER returns to find them full of zeal.
GOVERNESS (sitting down at her desk). Well, Oliver, have you learnt your piece of poetry?
OLIVER (nervously). I—I think so, Miss Pinniger.
GOVERNESS. Close the book, and stand up and say it. (Oliver takes a last despairing look, and stands up.) Well?
OLIVER. It was a summer evening——
GOVERNESS. The title and the author first, Oliver. Everything in its proper order.
OLIVER. Oh, I say, I didn't know I had to learn the title.
JILL (in a whisper). After Blenheim.
GOVERNESS. Geraldine, kindly attend to your own work.
OLIVER. After Blenheim. It was a summer evening.
GOVERNESS. After Blenheim, by Robert Southey. One of our greatest poets.
OLIVER. After Blenheim, by Robert Southey, one of our greatest poets. It was a summer evening, Old Kaspar's work was done—er—Old Kaspar's work was done—er—work was done, er …
GOVERNESS. And he before——
OLIVER. Oh yes, of course. And he before—er—and he before—er—It was a summer evening, Old Kaspar's work was done, and he before—er—and he before—— Er, it was a summer evening——
GOVERNESS.
