I dare say she is. (Changing) I’m frightened, father.
LORD RINTOUL. All this pother!
BABBIE. Father, you are sure you saw him kiss her in the wood?
LORD RINTOUL. Twice!
BABBIE. Oh, that decides it! Father, I shall have no mercy on him now.
LORD RINTOUL. That’s my girl.
BABBIE. Father, do your duty.
LORD RINTOUL. I will.
(He rises and crosses to fire. She goes to him wheedlingly, yet half panic-stricken.)
BABBIE. There is just one other little thing — a very little thing — so tiny, just about that size. (Holding up her finger.)
LORD RINTOUL (at once suspicious). Well?
BABBIE (faltering). It would be easier to say if you would sit down, daddy — (She rather forces him back into armchair by fire.) You see, I — I — (Kneels by him.) I want to come with you, father.
LORD RINTOUL. That would be vindictive. No, no, I can’t have that. Besides, it would be too painful to you.
BABBIE. I feel — I feel I could stand it. Do let me come.
LORD RINTOUL. You will stay at home.
BABBIE. Father, I so want to see his face — when he hears his DOOM. (HEAD ON his ARM.)
LORD RINTOUL. It will certainly be worth observing!
BABBIE. Then I may come!
LORD RINTOUL. No, you may not. I’ll tell you all about it when I get back.
BABBIE. That won’t be quite the same thing. Father, I am a regrettably odd sort of girl, am I not?
LORD RINTOUL. You are indeed.
BABBIE. And I am in a very excited state. If you leave me behind I may do something monstrous. Don’t you think that for the next few hours it would be wise not to let me out of your sight.
LORD RINTOUL. Gad, there’s more in that than you know! After all, there is no particular reason against your coming.
(LOOKS at her.)
BABBIE. Oo! (Picks up cushion off couch and throws it UP-) —
LORD RINTOUL. But remember, this is my affair and Halliwell’s. I will have no interference.
BABBIE. I promise not to say a word. I shall leave it all to you. (Puts cushion back on sofa.)
LORD RINTOUL. Then on with a cloak and bonnet. I shall be down in a moment. (Going to stair — he turns) If I thought you might make a scene —
BABBIE. I won’t. But I dare say somebody else will!
(Both laughing.)
LORD RINTOUL (going upstairs, amused).! GUARANTEE somebody else will! A certain gentleman! A certain gentleman!
(Leaves chuckling, BABBIE, left alone, pauses halfway to door with sinking courage. From this point onwards she is more or less hysterical.)
BABBIE. Of course, I can’t do it — never meant to do it. Oh, father, why did you tell that fib about the kiss? Think, Babbie, think, and draw back.
(Door opens and felice comes out, carrying a bonnet and cloak. She is a correct maid, though secretly thrilled.)
Remember, irrevocable! Why — what, you have been listening, Felice!
FELICE. My lady — eleven days. (She jumps.)
BABBIE. I don’t want them, you know — I am not going.
(But she meekly lets cloak be put on her. Then with sudden thought) Felice, I hope father will not think afterwards that I have deceived him! (Partly to herself — part vaguely to felice) A minister! I am very fond of him and he is sixteen feet by twelve, but there are sure to be mothers’ meetings and I can’t do it. (Hands back the garments.) And now I must be a spinster all my life — I must either be a spinster all my life or have been married for eleven days! (At this thought she rushes into garments again, then has another fear.) Perhaps he would rather not! Irrevocable! I daren’t do it — I can’t. I hear father coming! (Takes bonnet from felice.) I will tell him the truth.
FELICE (disappointedly). My lady!
BABBIE. Go away, Felice. (Putting on bonnet.)
FELICE (reluctantly). But my lady!
BABBIE. Please.
(FELICE goes off to room under compulsion, BABBIE is alone again.)
‘ Father,’ I will say, ‘I am the gipsy; do you like me in this bonnet?’ (Speaking hysterically as if it were all one sentence.) I couldn’t possibly do it perhaps the other goes better with the cloak poor father but blue is my colour. (Picks up torn warrant from table, then crosses down to couch and sits.) Gavin, Gavin, I love you so much in a silk dress black with beads on it and my father has been married to a gipsy for eleven days! (She has the pieces of torn warrant, lifts, kisses and puts in her bosom with little cries.)
(LORD RINTOUL, coated for driving, reappears, and speaks as he comes down the stairs.)
LORD RINTOUL. I see Halliwell has got the dogcart out. We mustn’t keep him waiting.
BABBIE. Father, I have something to say to you. (She is genuinely loving as she pushes him excitedly into a chair and hugs him excitingly.)
LORD RINTOUL (struggling in her embrace). What is it? Quick!
(She dabs frenzied little kisses on odd parts of him, his head, nose, chin, hat, and knees, all the while uttering hysterical sounds.)
BABBIE (retreating a little). I have something to say to you.
LORD RINTOUL. What is it? What is it? Well — well!
(Instead of saying it she rushes at him again on the other side and dabs more kisses on him — then standing to make confession.)
BABBIE. It’s this — it’s this — father, I am quite ready!
(She puts her hand on his arm and they commence to go off.)
Act IV
The Manse Garden. It is now moonlight. The church is still lit up, and singing is going on in it in old-fashioned style, i e a man’s voice in distance is indistinctly heard reading a line of a psalm, then the congregation sing it, and so on.
PRECENTOR.
‘Snares, fire and brimstone, furious storms on sinners He shall rain.’ (Congregation intones above line.)
PRECENTOR.
‘This as the portion of their cup doth unto them pertain.’ (Congregation intones above line, SNECKY, WHAMOND, and ANDREW are sitting on wall of gate. They all have their hats in their hands, DOW is sitting miserably on wall, MICAH sits on wall with feet up.)
SNECKY (when the singing ceases). That’s the psalm finished.
(They put on hats simultaneously.)
Tammas, they have been in the kirk an hour and a half, and we canna keep them ony longer. You said you would tell them as soon as the psalm was finished.
WHAMOND. Will’um will be offering up a prayer now. I’ll tell them when the prayer is finished.
SNECKY. It’s the fourth time you’ve said that. Tammas, you ‘re as loth to tell them as we are oursel’s.
WHAMOND. It must be done. (Gets off wall.)
DOW. Your face is hard — your mind’s made up. Afore this night is out he’ll be without a hame and without a kirk — and it’s me that has brought it on him.