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DEALING IN FUTURES

A Play In Three Acts

By Harold Brighouse

New York: Samuel French Publisher

1913

[Illustration: 0005]




DEALING IN FUTURES

A PLAY IN THREE ACTS

CHARACTERS

Jabez Thompson....................A Chemical Manufacturer.

Rosie Thompson....................His Daughter.

John Bunting......................A Master Dyer.

Charlie Bunting...................His Son.

Walter Clavering..................A Young Doctor.

The Scene is laid in an outlying Lancashire village and the action of
the play takes place within a space of twenty-six hours.




ACT I

_The dining-room of Jabez Thompson's; the room is luxuriously furnished
and combines comfort with ostentation; the door is left, and at the back
a large doorway curtained off leads to the billiard-room. (A plan of
this and the other scenes in the play will be found at the end of the
book.) The table is littered with the debris of dinner, and at it sit
Jabez Thompson (l.), and Rosie his daughter (l.), facing each other.
Jabez is elderly, corpulent, bearded, of florid face and general
prosperous appearance; he wears a frock coat, light grey trousers, and
has a heavy gold watch chain. He speaks with all the assertiveness of
life-long success._

Rosie _is dark and highly coloured, her face strong rather than
beautiful. She dresses with taste, avoiding her fathers scarcely veiled
vulgarity, and wears a high dress of some amber material. She inherits
her father's strength of will, and though outwardly cultured, has not
been able to subdue entirely a naturally violent temper. Her voice is
a little shrill and shrewish, and Jabez is obviously rather afraid of
her._

Mallinson, _the butler, enters with coffee, which he places on the table
by Rosie. Rosie pours coffee. Butler puts cup by Jabez._

*****

Butler. Mr. Lomax, from the works, has arrived, sir.

Jabez. Very well, put him in the library. I'll be there in a moment to
sign the letters.

Butler. Yes, sir.

Jabez. Oh, give him this and tell him to look through it. (_Gives folded
paper from his pocket._)

Butler. Yes, sir. (_Takes paper and exit._)

Jabez (_Sips coffee, lights cigar, and turns chair to face audience_).
By the way, Rosie, I asked Charlie to come round after dinner and to
bring his father.

Rosie (_Interested_). Oh! Why?

Jabez. I'm not satisfied with him. I want to have a chat with the pair
of them to see if we can't get things on a better basis.

Rosie. What's the matter with Charlie?

Jabez. Oh, you wouldn't understand. It's a business question.

Rosie. I see. You'd rather I wasn't here?

Jabez. Yes. If you don't mind. We can't do better than stick to the rule
even where Charlie's concerned, eh?

Rosie. Oh, I shan't intrude on a business talk.

Jabez. Thanks, my dear, thanks. (_Encouraged to go on._) Do you know,
Rosie, I'm not a bit happy over this engagement of yours to Charlie.

Rosie (_Curtly_). Why?

Jabez (_Apologetically_). He's a queer fellow. I can't size him up. I
can't think why on earth you got engaged to him.

Rosie. That's my business, isn't it?

Jabez Yes, my dear. I suppose it is. But that doesn't stop me from
wishing you'd taken a fancy to some one else.

Rosie. I've told you before I won't have you interfering in my affairs,
father. I'm quite capable of managing them myself.

Jabez (_Meekly_). I try not to, my dear. I do try not to. Only this
matter--it's not as if you had a mother, is it now?

Rosie. Oh, you can trust me to judge whether a man comes because he
wants me or whether he's only a vulgar fortune-hunter. Whatever Charlie
is or isn't, he's not after my money.

Jabez. No, Charlie never is after money. You're easily the better
business man. He's always got his head full of ideas about pampering the
men instead of thinking of the welfare of the firm.

Rosie (_Snappishly_). You needn't think you can get me to break it off,
so don't try. You can say what you like to him so long as you remember
I'm going to marry him.

Jabez. Well, well, I must see what I can make of Charlie. (_Drinks._)
I'll tell you one thing, my dear, you're a good deal more eager about it
than he is.

Rosie. Possibly. You needn't worry about that.

Jabez. But I do worry, my dear. How can I help it? (_Rosie moves
impatiently._) Now don't fly in a temper. He _is_ taking his time in
coming up to scratch. Let me ask you one thing?

Rosie. Yes?

Jabez. When are you going to be married?

Rosie. I really don't know.

Jabez. No, and it's time you did. You've been engaged long enough.

Rosie. Is that what you are going to talk to him about to-night?

Jabez. Amongst other things. I'm tired of his playing about with the
thing. If your mind's made up, what's there to wait for? People are
beginning to talk.

Rosie. Let them.

Jabez. That's all very well, but people in our position must consider
public opinion. You don't object to my settling it, do you?

Rosie. Oh, do what you want. But don't you dare to bully Charlie. I
won't have him bullied.

Jabez. Oh, I shan't hurt him. A good talking to _'_ull do him no harm.

(_Enter Butler, l._)

Butler (_At door l._). Dr. Clavering has called, sir. Wishes to speak to
you.

Jabez (_Surprised_) Clavering? Well, show him up.

Butler. Yes, sir.

(_Exit Butler._)

Jabez. What's the matter with Clavering? He doesn't often condescend
to leave his precious research work in the evenings. (_Rosie shrugs her
shoulders contemptuously. Enter Butler._)

Butler (_Announcing_). Dr. Clavering.

(_Enter Clavering. Exit Butler. Clavering is a young doctor with keen
clever face, clean-shaven, with a general air of self-reliance. He is a
practical man of a fairs whose business happens to be doctoring._)

Clavering. Good evening, Mr. Thompson.

Jabez (_Rising_). Good evening, Dr. Clavering. (_They shake hands, and
Jabez, turning his chair sits sideways to the table._)

Clav. Good evening, Miss Thompson. (_Rosie murmurs and bows coldly._)

Jabez. Well, what can I do for you, doctor? Sit down.

Clav. (_Sits on sofa l._) The fact is--it's rather a liberty--I hope
you won't mind.

Jabez. Out with it man! What's to do?

Clav. I've come to see you about one of your men--a fellow named Alcott.

Jabez (_Reflectively_). Alcott? Alcott?

Clav. You don't just call him to mind?

Jabez. No, but I will.

Clav. That won't matter. It's just----

Jabez (_rising_). But it does matter; if I talk about a man I like
to know who I'm talking about. I shan't be a moment. My record book's
handy.

Clav. Record book? You keep it here?

Jabez. Yes; I've every man's record in that book. I don't risk leaving
a thing like that at the works, safe or no safe. (_Crossing and reaching
door l._) I'll go and look the name up. Lomax is here too with the
letters for signing, but that won't detain me long. (_Exit taking hunch
of keys from his trousers' pocket._)

Clav. Miss Thompson, I'm glad your father's gone. It gives me an
opportunity----

Rosie (_Eagerly_). Yes? Any illness amongst the men, doctor?

Clav. Only this Alcott. I'll discuss that with Mr. Thompson. Don't let's
waste time now. (_Rises and moves to back of table._) I hoped so much to
see you alone. I never get a chance.

Rosie. There's always the telephone.

Clav. I can't see your face through the telephone, and it's always
about others. What a great heart you have, Miss Thompson! (_Sits above
table._)

Rosie. I? Oh, one does what one can.

Clav. For others.

Rosie. Others?

Clav. Yes; for me it's the telephone--always the telephone. So and so's
ill--a name passes, an address, and we ring off. I never get the chance
of seeing you alone.

Rosie. Doctors are such busy people, aren't they?

Clav. Not too busy to be human, to desire to see in the flesh the woman
one's always communicating with through a cold-blooded telephone. We're
allies, you know, Miss Thompson, fellow-conspirators, aren't we? That
makes a bond between us.

Rosie (_Conventionally_). It's very good of you to let me know so
promptly when any of the men fall ill and to keep it a secret between
us--even from Charlie.

Clav. (_Contemptuously_). Oh, Charlie!

Rosie (_Quickly_). He doesn't know, of course?

Clav. No, he knows nothing.

Rosie. I was just afraid. You're such close friends, and this book
you've been writing must have brought you closer together. I thought you
might have let it slip out.

Clav. Oh, no. I kept the bond.

Rosie. I can never thank you sufficiently.

Clav. You could if you would.

Rosie. How? Tell me.

Clav. As you said, I'm a busy man, but I'm not too busy to use my
eyes. A man can't join hands with a good woman in the great work of
alleviating suffering without conceiving an admiration for her, without
longing--

Rosie (_Coldly_). Need we waste time in compliments, Dr. Clavering? My
father may be back at any moment, and if you've, anything to say to me,
won't you come to the point?

Clav. I want to know if I may hope for a reward.

Rosie. Surely a doctor doesn't ask reward for helping to do good.

Clav. Virtue its own reward? Come, Miss Thompson, isn't that one of the
maxims all of us apply to others rather than to ourselves?

Rosie (_Rising_). If you want to be paid for your services to me,
doctor, perhaps you will send in an account.

Clav. You're misunderstanding wilfully. (_Rising._) Can't we be frank
with one another, we coworkers in the same field? Must you wear before
me the mask you put on to suit your father?

Rosie. I wear a mask to suit my father? I think you're labouring under
some mistake.

Clav. Then the reward I aim at is---- Oh, don't you see?

Rosie. I hope I don't. (_Crossing to door R. at back._) I think we'd
both better forget this conversation, Dr. Clavering.

Clav. (_Following_). You shan't put me off. I----

(_Enter Jabez with a small red bound book, keeping a place in it with
his finger. Clavering leaves Rosie promptly and stands above table._)

Jabez. I'm primed now, doctor. (_He sits and puts the book open on the
table._) There's not much worth knowing about my men that this friend
can't tell me (_Tapping the book_). But it doesn't tell me much good
about Mr. Alcott (_Emphasizing the "Mr." sarcastically_).

Clav. Sorry to hear that. Poor chap, he's in a bad way. (_Rosie looks
interested._) eh?

Jabez. Oh, you've been to see him professionally,

Clav. I don't go to see Brixham's Buildings, they come to me. Surgery
hours are just over.

Rosie (_Softly, sitting at writing-table r., taking a piece of note
paper and writing_). Brixham's Buildings.

Jabez. Well?

CLAV. (_Sitting above table with elbows on it and fingertips at chin_).
The work doesn't suit him. What that fellow needs is a good dose of
fresh air. When I told him so, he said he'd lose his job if he asked off
for a month. I've come to see if something cant be arranged for him, Mr.
Tompson.

Jabez (_Cold