my wife.
BABBIE (after a pause). Eleven days.
(They embrace.)
GAVIN. I do like being married.
BABBIE. So do I — to you, I mean.
GAVIN. That’s what I mean, too.
BABBIE (a little tremulously as she looks at the church). Is that it?
GAVIN. Yes, my dear church.
(Lights in Manse appear.)
BABBIE. I can’t think what father meant when he said, ‘I wonder.’ gavin. Babbie, that is the window of your drawingroom.
(She blows it a kiss.)
Just come a little nearer this way.
BABBIE. Was it from there you threw the rose?
GAVIN. Yes, it fell there; no, a little farther to the left, there.
BABBIE. I shall plant a rose-tree there. (Places her hand on his breast.)
GAVIN. My dear wife, it is a beautiful May evening and before we go indoors I should so like to walk you once round the premises as if I owned you, you know, to let the stars see us.
(He shyly crooks his arm and she puts her hand in it. They make a brief turn of the garden and he is now strutting while she is shy. They get to Manse door.)
Babbie!
(SNECKY, ANDREW, WHAMOND, SILVA, and DOW kneel behind wall, with arms on wall, GAVIN and BABBIE run into the Manse.)
The Wedding Guest
Act I
Drawingroom at the Old Keep. At back a large open window from which steps lead down into garden. Against the walls are narrow tables covered with wedding presents. The room is gaily decorated with flowers, and the time is noon on a summer’s day.
(The curtain rises on MARGARET in wedding dress, and BLANCHE in bridesmaid’s dress. MARGARET is -practising moving about in long train which BLANCHE solemnly holds up at end. They go round and round the room, winding in and out among the furniture. Enter PAUI DIGBY, the bridegroom.)
PAUL. Margaret, how lovely —
BLANCHE. H’sh! Don’t speak. She is rehearsing how to carry her train.
PAUL. It is like learning to bicycle. Margaret, try if you can go alone now. Margaret (bravely). Let go, Blanche.
(MARGARET nervously winds in and out by herself.)
PAUL. Splendid! (Her train catches in a chair.) Back pedal! (He has to jump train.)
BLANCHE. Now stop at the spot where YOU ARE to stand DURING THE CEREMONY.
MARGARET (triumphant and breathless). There!
BLANCHE. But is that where the bride and bridegroom stand? I thought you stood over here.
MARGARET (sitting down, almost in tears). Oh, Blanche! Oh! Oh! Oh! and we are to be married in half an hour!
(Enter MEIKLE, the butler, with flowers.)
Meikle, my chief bridesmaid does not know where we are to stand yet!
(MEIKLE looks sadly at BLANCHE.)
BLANCHE (in despair). I can’t help it. The idea of your being married in a room seems so odd to me.
MEIKLE (who is most Scotch when he is trying to be very English). Beg pardon, miss, but where might the English be married?
BLANCHE. In church, of course.
(MEIKLE smiles tolerantly.)
PAUL. We English give Meikle a good deal of amusement, Miss Ripley.
MEIKLE. Beg pardon, sir, I do my best to keep it in. (Tries not to laugh at the quaint ways of the English.)
MARGARET. Let us go through the ceremony again. Meikle, don’t go — come here. Stand there — you are the bridegroom.
PAUL. No, no, I am the bridegroom.
MARGARET. That would be unlucky. Let me see, I am the minister, and Blanche can be the bride, and you are the father giving her away. Now then, stupid, go out and bring her in on your arm.
(PAUL and BLANCHE go out gaily, MEIKLE becomes entangled in train.)
MARGARET. Oh! Don’t move, Meikle! I must take it off — it will be soiled. Do you see the hook? Lift it up — gently — don’t breathe.
MEIKLE. Beg pardon, miss, but —
MARGARET. Don’t speak — your words might fall on it.
(Between them they take off train and she spreads it out lovingly on chair at back.)
PAUL (putting his head in at door). Are you ready?
MARGARET. Wait a moment till I feel more like a man. Come in when I say ‘Pop.’ (PAUL withdraws his head, MARGARET tries to look mannish — after pause:)
Pop!
(Enter PAUL, very fatherly, with BLANCHE on his arm. He puts her by MEIKLE’S side and stands behind.)
(Solemnly) I need not tell you, my young friends, that you are about to take an important step. James Meikle, do you take this —
MEIKLE. Excuse me, miss, but the certificate is read first.
MARGARET. Oh yes. (Indifferently) I hereby certify that it is certified, etc. (With unction) James Meikle, do you —
MEIKLE. Then comes the prayer, then the exhortation —
BLANCHE. Do we kneel at the prayer?
MARGARET. No, we shut our eyes only. Well, consider that finished. James Meikle, do —
MEIKLE. Join hands, miss.
MARGARET (effusively). Ah! Join hands.
(MEIKLE and BLANCHE join hands.)
James Meikle, do you take this woman, Blanche Ripley, to be your lawful wedded wife?
(MEIKLE hesitates.)
BLANCHE. You are not very complimentary, Meikle.
MEIKLE (in distress). The fact is, miss, I am a married man and, according to Scotch law, if I was to say ‘I do’ before witnesses ——
BLANCHE (startled). You — you don’t mean —— !
MEIKLE. It WOULD BE BIGAMY, MISS.
(Horror of BLANCHE.)
PAUL (affecting seriousness). Shall we go on with the ceremony?
(BLANCHE rushes out.)
MEIKLE. Begging everybody’s pardon. (Exit apologetically).
(PAUL and MARGARET have been