



Produced by David Widger





FIRST SERIES PLAYS

By John Galsworthy



JOY

A PLAY ON THE LETTER "I"

IN THREE ACTS




PERSONS OF THE PLAY

COLONEL HOPE, R.A., retired
MRS. HOPE, his wife
MISS BEECH, their old governess
LETTY, their daughter
ERNEST BLUNT, her husband
MRS. GWYN, their niece
JOY, her daughter
DICK MERTON, their young friend
HON. MAURICE LEVER, their guest
ROSE, their parlour-maid



TIME: The present.  The action passes throughout midsummer day on the
lawn of Colonel Hope's house, near the Thames above Oxford.


ACT I

     The time is morning, and the scene a level lawn, beyond which
     the river is running amongst fields.  A huge old beech tree
     overshadows everything, in the darkness of whose hollow many
     things are hidden.  A rustic seat encircles it.  A low wall
     clothed in creepers, with two openings, divides this lawn from
     the flowery approaches to the house.  Close to the wall there is
     a swing.  The sky is clear and sunny.  COLONEL HOPE is seated in
     a garden-chair, reading a newspaper through pince-nez.  He is
     fifty-five and bald, with drooping grey moustaches and a
     weather-darkened face.  He wears a flannel suit and a hat from
     Panama; a tennis racquet leans against his chair.  MRS. HOPE
     comes quickly through the opening of the wall, with roses in her
     hands.  She is going grey; she wears tan gauntlets, and no hat.
     Her manner is decided, her voice emphatic, as though aware that
     there is no nonsense in its owner's composition.  Screened from
     sight, MISS BEECH is seated behind the hollow tree; and JOY is
     perched on a lower branch hidden by foliage.


MRS. HOPE.  I told Molly in my letter that she'd have to walk up,
Tom.

COLONEL.  Walk up in this heat?  My dear, why didn't you order
Benson's fly?

MRS. HOPE.  Expense for nothing!  Bob can bring up her things in the
barrow.  I've told Joy I won't have her going down to meet the train.
She's so excited about her mother's coming there's no doing anything
with her.

COLONEL.  No wonder, after two months.

MRS. HOPE.  Well, she's going home to-morrow; she must just keep
herself fresh for the dancing tonight.  I'm not going to get people
in to dance, and have Joy worn out before they begin.

COLONEL.  [Dropping his paper.]  I don't like Molly's walking up.

MRS. HOPE.  A great strong woman like Molly Gwyn!  It isn't half a
mile.

COLONEL.  I don't like it, Nell; it's not hospitable.

MRS. HOPE.  Rubbish!  If you want to throw away money, you must just
find some better investment than those wretched 3 per cents. of
yours.  The greenflies are in my roses already!  Did you ever see
anything so disgusting?  [They bend over the roses they have grown,
and lose all sense of everything.]  Where's the syringe?  I saw you
mooning about with it last night, Tom.

COLONEL.  [Uneasily.]  Mooning!

     [He retires behind his paper.  MRS. HOPE enters the hollow of
     the tree.]

There's an account of that West Australian swindle.  Set of ruffians!
Listen to this, Nell!  "It is understood that amongst the
share-holders are large numbers of women, clergymen, and Army officers."
How people can be such fools!

     [Becoming aware that his absorption is unobserved, he drops his
     glasses, and reverses his chair towards the tree.]

MRS. HOPE.  [Reappearing with a garden syringe.]  I simply won't have
Dick keep his fishing things in the tree; there's a whole potful of
disgusting worms.  I can't touch them.  You must go and take 'em out,
Tom.

     [In his turn the COLONEL enters the hollow of the tree.]

MRS. HOPE.  [Personally.]  What on earth's the pleasure of it?  I
can't see!  He never catches anything worth eating.

     [The COLONEL reappears with a paint pot full of worms; he holds
     them out abstractedly.]

MRS. HOPE.  [Jumping.]  Don't put them near me!

MISS BEECH.  [From behind the tree.]  Don't hurt the poor creatures.

COLONEL.  [Turning.]  Hallo, Peachey?  What are you doing round
there?

     [He puts the worms down on the seat.]

MRS. HOPE.  Tom, take the worms off that seat at once!

COLONEL.  [Somewhat flurried.]  Good gad!  I don't know what to do
with the beastly worms!

MRS. HOPE.  It's not my business to look after Dick's worms.  Don't
put them on the ground.  I won't have them anywhere where they can
crawl about.  [She flicks some greenflies off her roses.]

COLONEL.  [Looking into the pot as though the worms could tell him
where to put them.]  Dash!

MISS BEECH.  Give them to me.

MRS. HOPE.  [Relieved.]  Yes, give them to Peachey.

     [There comes from round the tree Miss BEECH, old-fashioned,
     barrel-shaped, balloony in the skirts.