The Master of Mrs. Chilvers: An Improbable Comedy

Geoffrey. Um!

Mrs. Chinn. You see, sir – a thing like that – (She recovers herself.) It clings to a lad.

Geoffrey. What do you want me to do?

Mrs. Chinn. Well, sir, I thought that, perhaps – you see, sir, he has got a brother in Canada who would help him; and I thought that if I could ship him off —

Geoffrey. You want me to tip the wink to the police to look the other way while you smuggle this young malefactor out of the clutches of the law?

Mrs. Chinn. (Quite indifferent to the moral aspect of the case.) If you would be so kind, sir.

Geoffrey. Umph! I suppose you know what you’re doing; appealing through your womanhood to man’s weakness – employing “backstairs influence” to gain your private ends, indifferent to the higher issues of the public weal? All the things that are going to cease when woman has the vote.

Mrs. Chinn. You see, sir, he’s the youngest.

(Gradually the decent but dingy figure of Mrs. Chinn has taken to itself new shape. To Geoffrey, it almost seems as though there were growing out of the shadows over against him the figure of great Artemis herself – Artemis of the Thousand Breasts. He had returned home angry, bitter against all women. As she unfolds her simple tale understanding comes to him. So long as there are “Mrs. Chinns” in the world, Woman claims homage.)

Geoffrey. How many were there?

Mrs. Chinn. Ten altogether, six living.

Geoffrey. Been a bit of a struggle for you, hasn’t it?

Mrs. Chinn. It has been a bit difficult, at times; especially after their poor father died.

Geoffrey. How many were you left with?

Mrs. Chinn. Eight, sir.

Geoffrey. How on earth did you manage to keep them?

Mrs. Chinn. Well, you see, sir, the two eldest, they were earning a little. I don’t think I could have done it without that.

Geoffrey. Wasn’t there any source from which you could have obtained help? What was your husband?

Mrs. Chinn. He worked in the shipyards, sir. There was some talk about it. But, of course, that always means taking the children away from you.

Geoffrey. Would not that have been better for them?

Mrs. Chinn. Not always, sir. Of course, if I hadn’t been able to do my duty by them I should have had to. But, thank God, I’ve always been strong.

Geoffrey. (He rises.) I will see what can be done.

Mrs. Chinn. Thank you, sir.

Geoffrey. (Half-way, he turns.) When does the next boat sail – for Canada?

Mrs. Chinn. To-morrow night, sir, from Glasgow. I have booked his passage.

Geoffrey. (With a smile.) You seem to have taken everything for granted.

Mrs. Chinn. You see, sir, it’s the disgrace. All the others are doing so well. It would upset them so.

(He goes out.)(There is a moment.)(Annys enters. She is wearing her outdoor things.)

Annys. Mrs. Chinn!

Mrs. Chinn. (She has risen; she curtseys.) Good evening, ma’am.

Annys. (She is taking off her hat.) Nothing wrong, is there?

Mrs. Chinn. My boy, ma’am, my youngest, has been getting into trouble.

Annys. (She pauses, her hat in her hand.) They will, won’t they? It’s nothing serious, I hope?

Mrs. Chinn. I think it will be all right, ma’am, thanks to your good gentleman.

Annys. (She lays aside her hat.) You have had a good many children, haven’t you, Mrs. Chinn?

Mrs. Chinn. Ten altogether, ma’am; six living.

Annys. Can one love ten, all at once?

(The cloak has fallen aside. Mrs. Chinn is a much experienced lady.)

Mrs. Chinn. Just as many as come, dear. God sends the love with them.

(There is a moment; the two women are very close to one another. Then Annys gives a little cry and somehow their arms are round one another.)

(She mothers her into the easy chair above the fire; places a footstool under her feet.) You have your cry out, dearie, it will do you good.

Annys. You look so strong and great.

Mrs. Chinn. It’s the tears, dearie. (She arranges the foot-stool.) You keep your feet up.

(The handle of the door is heard. Mrs. Chinn is standing beside her own chair. She is putting back her handkerchief into her bag.)

(Geoffrey re-enters.)

(Annys is hidden in the easy chair. He does not see her.)

Geoffrey. Well, Mrs. Chinn, an exhaustive search for the accused will be commenced – next week.

Mrs. Chinn. Thank you, sir.

Geoffrey. What about the children – are they going with him?

Mrs. Chinn. No, sir; I thought he would be better without them till everything is settled.

Geoffrey. Who is taking care of them – you?

Mrs. Chinn. Yes, sir.

Geoffrey. And the passage money – how much was that?

Mrs. Chinn. Four pound fifteen.

Geoffrey. Would you mind my coming in, as a friend?

Mrs. Chinn. Well, if you don’t mind, I’d rather not. I’ve always done everything for the children myself. It’s been a fad of mine.

Geoffrey. (He makes a gesture of despair.) You mothers! You’re so greedy. (He holds out his hand, smiling.) Goodbye.

Mrs. Chinn. (She takes his hand in hers.) God bless you, sir. And your good lady.

Geoffrey. (As he takes her to the door.) How will you get home?

Mrs. Chinn. I can get the Underground from Gower Street, sir.

(They go out talking about last trains and leaving the door open. The next moment the front door is heard to slam.)

(Geoffrey re-enters.)

(Annys has moved round, so that coming back into the room he finds her there.)

Geoffrey. How long have you been in?

(He closes the door.)

Annys. Only a few minutes – while you were at the telephone. I had to rest for a little while. Dr. Whitby brought me back in his motor.

Geoffrey. Was he down there?

Annys. Phoebe had sent for him. I had been taken a little giddy earlier in the day.

Geoffrey. (He grunts. He is fighting with his tenderness.) Don’t wonder at it. All this overwork and excitement.

Annys. I’m afraid I’ve been hurting you.

Geoffrey. (Still growling.) Both been hurting each other, I expect.

Annys. (She smiles.) It’s so easy to hurt those that love us.

(She makes a little movement, feebly stretches out her arms to him. Wondering, he comes across to her. She draws him down beside her, takes his arms and places them about her.) I want to feel that I belong to you. That you are strong. That I can rest upon you.

Geoffrey. (He cannot understand.) But only an hour ago – (He looks at her.) Have you, too, turned traitor to the Woman’s Cause?

Annys. (She answers smiling.) No. But woman, dear, is a much more complicated person than I thought her. It is only in this hour that God has revealed her to me. (She draws him closer.) I want you, dear – dear husband. Take care of us – both, won’t you? I love you, I love you. I did not know how much.

Geoffrey. (He gathers her to him, kissing her, crooning over her.) Oh, my dear, my dear! My little one, my love, my wife!

Annys. (She is laughing, crying.) But, Geoffrey, dear —

(He tries to calm her.)

No, let me. I want to – And then I’ll be quite good, I promise – It’s only fair to warn you. When I’m strong and can think again, I shall still want the vote. I shall want it more than ever.

Geoffrey. (He answers with a happy laugh, holding her in his arms.)

Annys. You will help us? Because it’s right, dear, isn’t it? He will be my child as well as yours. You will let me help you make the world better for our child – and for all the children – and for all the mothers – and for all the dear, kind men: you will, won’t you?

Geoffrey. I thought you were drifting away from me: that strange voices were calling you away from life and motherhood. God has laughed at my fears. He has sent you back to me with His command. We will fashion His world together, we two lovers, Man and Woman, joined together in all things. It is His will. His chains are the children’s hands.

(Kneeling, he holds her in his arms.)(The Curtain Falls.)