we haven't paid the butcher and you want two pounds. I'll give it you
this evening--(_Aside_.) If I can borrow it.
MRS. SYLVESTER (_coming down_).
Then we shall see you this evening at seven sharp, Mr. Tempenny? I am
going to take Eugenia round to the house with me now, to spend the
afternoon. You'll find her there when you come.
REMBRANDT TEMPENNY.
Good. (_Aside_.) I wish they'd go! (_Aloud_.) You don't mean to run
away yet?
MRS. SYLVESTER (_doubtfully_).
I think so.
REMBRANDT TEMPENNY (_with alacrity_).
Well, if you really must--
(_Opens door_ D.F.)
MRS. SYLVESTER.
Till seven o'clock.
REMBRANDT TEMPENNY.
Till seven.
MRS. TEMPENNY.
Au revoir, dear. (_Aside to him_.) You won't forget the--?
REMBRANDT TEMPENNY.
(_Aside to_ MRS. TEMPENNY.) The two pounds, and the butcher; I won't
forget 'em. I only hope the _butcher_ may forget _me_.
(_Exit_ MRS. SYLVESTER.)
MRS. TEMPENNY.
By-bye, sweetheart.
REMBRANDT TEMPENNY.
Ta, ta, Duckie.
MRS. TEMPENNY.
Don't do too much--remember your precious health.
REMBRANDT TEMPENNY.
All right, my love.
MRS. TEMPENNY (_blowing a kiss_).
There.
REMBRANDT TEMPENNY (_blowing a kiss_).
There.
MRS. TEMPENNY.
My own darling husband!
REMBRANDT TEMPENNY.
My angel.
(_Exit_ MRS. TEMPENNY.)
REMBRANDT TEMPENNY (_with a deep sigh of relief_).
Thank heaven! (_Sinks into armchair, and puts his feet on the
mantelpiece_) The corner is getting tight, Rembrandt. This sort of
thing won't boil the pot. It won't, sonny, I assure you! Where's the
sketch of my _magnum opus_. 'Pon my word, I haven't seen the thing for
a month or more. (_Gets up and rummages in a portfolio_.) Ah, here we
have it! (_Holds up and contemplates a small charcoal sketch_.)
"Susannah before the Elders" beautiful! composition charming!
Rembrandt, old pal,--I congratulate you! But where's the picture of it?
"Oh where, and oh where!" Rembrandt, you're developing into a
thorough-paced loafer. You always had a talent that way, but of late
|