Plays of Near & Far, Lord Dunsany [most inspirational books of all time .TXT] 📗

* (N.B.—Sladder is not in the very least like Napoleon.)

Ermyntrude: How splendid, mother! What do you think it is?

Mrs. Sladder: Ah. I could never explain it to you, even if I knew. It is business, child, business. It isn't everybody that can understand business.

Ermyntrude: I hear them coming, mother.

Mrs. Sladder: There must be things we can never understand: things too deep for us like. And business is the most wonderful of them all.

[Exeunt R.

[Enter Sladder and Splurge through the window, which opens on to the lawn, down a step or two.

Sladder: Now, Splurge, we must do some business.

Splurge: Yes, sir.

Sladder: Sit down, Splurge.

Splurge: Thank you, sir.

Sladder: Splurge, I am going to say to you now, what I couldn't talk about with all those gardeners hanging about. And, by the way, Splurge, haven't we bought rather too many gardeners?

Splurge: No, sir. The Earl of Etheldune has seven; we had to go one better than him, sir.

Sladder: Certainly, Splurge, certainly.

Splurge: So I bought ten for you, sir, to be on the safe side.

Sladder: Ah, quite right, Splurge, quite right. There seemed to be rather a lot, but that's quite right. Well, now to business.

Splurge: Yes, sir.

Sladder: I told you I'd invented a new name for a food.

Splurge: Yes, sir. Cheezo.

Sladder: Well, what have you been able to do about it?

Splurge: I've had some nice little posters done, sir. I'm having it well written up. I've got some samples here, and it looks like doing very well indeed.

Sladder: Ah!

Splurge: It's a grand name, if I may say so, sir. It sounds so classical-like with that "O" at the end; and yet anyone can see what it's derived from, even if he's never learnt anything. It suggests cheese to them every time.

Sladder: Let's see your samples.

Splurge: Well, sir, here's one. (Brings paper from pocket. Reads.) "What is Cheezo? Go where you may, speak with whom you will, the same question confronts you. Cheezo is the great new——"

Sladder: No, Splurge. Cut that question bit. We must have no admission on our part that there's anyone who doesn't know what Cheezo is. Cut it.

Splurge: You're quite right, sir; you're quite right. That's a weak bit. I'll cut it. (He scratches it out. Reads.) "Cheezo is the great new food. It builds up body and brain."

Sladder: That's good.

Splurge: "There is a hundred times more lactic fluid in an ounce of Cheezo than in a gallon of milk."

Sladder: What's lactic fluid, Splurge?

Splurge: I don't know, sir, but it's good stuff all right. It's the right thing to have in it. It's a good man that I got to write this.

Sladder: All right. Go on.

Splurge: "Cheezo makes darling baby grow."

Sladder: Good. Very good. Very good indeed, Splurge.

Splurge: Yes, I think that catches them, sir.

Sladder: Go on.

Splurge: "Cheezo. The only food."

Sladder: "The only food"? I don't like that.

Splurge: It will go down all right, sir, so long as the posters are big enough.

Sladder: Go down all right! I wasn't fool enough to suppose that it wouldn't go down all right. What are posters for if the public doesn't believe them? Of course it will go down all right.

Splurge: O, I beg your pardon, sir. Then what don't you quite like about it?

Sladder: I might invent another food one of these days, and then where should we be?

Splurge: I hadn't thought of that, sir.

Sladder: Out with it.

Splurge: (Scratches with pencil). "Cheezo is made out of the purest milk from purest English cows."

Sladder: Y-e-s, y-e-s. I don't say you're wrong. I don't say you're exactly wrong. But in business, Splurge, you want to keep more to generalities. Talk about the bonds that bind the Empire, talk about the Union Jack, talk by all means about the purity of the English cow; but definite statements you know, definite statements——

Splurge: O, yes, I know, sir; but the police never interfere with anything one puts on a poster. It would be bad for business, a jury would never convict, and——

Sladder: I didn't say they would; but if some interfering ass were to write to the papers to say that Cheezo wasn't made from milk, we should have to go to the expense of buying a dozen cows, and photographing them, and one thing and another. (He gets up and goes to cupboard.) Now, look here. I quite understand what you say, purity and all that, and a very good point too, but you look at this.

[He unrolls a huge poster representing a dairymaid smirking in deadly earnest. On it is printed: "WON'T YOU HAVE SOME?" and on another part of the poster "CHEEZO FOR PURITY."

You see. Your whole point's there. We state nothing and we can make the dairymaid as suggestive as we like.

Splurge: Yes, sir, that is excellent. Quite splendid.

Sladder: They shall look at that on every road and railway, where it enters every town in England. I'll have it on the cliffs of Dover. It shall be the first thing they see when they come back home, and the last thing for them to remember when they leave England. I'll have it everywhere. I'll rub their noses in it. And then, Splurge, they'll ask for Cheezo when they want cheese, and that will mean I shall have the monopoly of all the cheese in the world.

Splurge: You're a great man, sir.

Sladder: I'll be a greater one, Splurge. I'm not past work yet. What more have you got?

Splurge: I've rather a nice little poster being done, sir. A boy and a girl looking at one another with a rather knowing look. There's a large query mark all over the girl's dress. Then over the top in big letters I've put: "What is the secret?" and in smaller letters: "I've got a bit of Cheezo." It makes people look at it, the children's faces are so wicked.

Sladder: Good, Splurge. Very good. I'll have that one. I'll rub their noses in that one.

Splurge: Then I've got some things for the Press. (Reads.) "She: 'Darling.' He: 'Yes, wifey.' She: 'You won't forget, darling.' He: 'No, wifey.' She: 'You won't forget to bring me some of that excellent Cheezo, so nutritious, so nice for darling baby, to be had at all grocers; but be sure that you find the name of Sladder on their well-known pink wrappers.' He: 'Certainly, wifey.'" Just the usual thing, sir, of course; only I have a very good little picture to go with it, very suggestive indeed; I've made all the arrangements with the Press and the bill-posters, sir. I think we'll make a big thing of it, sir.

Sladder: Well, Splurge, nothing remains to be done now, except to make the Cheezo.

Splurge: How do you think of doing it, sir?

Sladder: Do you know how they kill pigs in Chicago? No, you've not travelled yet. Well, they get their pigs on a slide, one man cuts their throats as fast as they go by, another shaves their bristles, and so on, and so on; one man for each job, and all at it at once; they do it very expeditiously. Well, there's an interfering fellow sent there by the Government (we wouldn't stand him in England), and if a pig has a sign of tuberculosis on him he won't let that pig go down. Now you'd think that pig was wasted. He isn't. He goes into soap. Now, Splurge, how many cakes of soap were used in the world last year?

Splurge (getting up): Last year? I don't think we have the figures in for last year yet, sir.

[He goes to bookshelf.

Sladder: Well, the year before will do.

Splurge: (taking book and turning pages): The figures are given, I think, sir, from the 1st of March to the 1st of March.

Sladder: That will do.

Splurge: Ah, here it is, sir. Soap statistics for the twelve months ending 1st of March this year. A hundred and four million users, using on an average twenty cakes each per year. Then there are partial users, and occasional users. The total would be about twenty-one hundred million, sir.

Sladder: Pure waste, Splurge, all pure waste.

Splurge: Waste, sir?

Sladder: Pure waste. What do you suppose becomes of all that soap, all that good fat? Proteids, I think they call 'em. And proteids are good for you, Splurge.

Splurge: What becomes of them, sir? They're used up.

Sladder: No, Splurge. They disappear, I grant you. They float away. But they're still there Splurge, they're still there. All that good fat is somewhere.

Splurge: But—but, sir—but—In the drains, sir?

Sladder: All those million of cakes of soap. There must be tons of it, Splurge. And we'll get it.

Splurge: You are a wonderful man, sir.

Sladder: O, I've a few brains, Splurge. That anyone might have. But I use mine, that's all. There's cleverer people than me in the world——

Splurge: No, sir.

Sladder: O, yes, there are. Lots of them. But they're damned fools. And why? 'Cause they don't use their brains. They mess about learning Greek. Greek! Can you believe it? What good does Greek ever do them?... But the money's not made yet, Splurge.

Splurge: I'm having it well advertised, sir.

Sladder: Not so fast. What if they won't eat it?

Splurge: O, they'll eat it all right when it's advertised, sir. They eat everything that's advertised.

Sladder: What if they can't eat it, Splurge?

Splurge: Can't, sir?

Sladder: Send for my daughter.

Splurge: Yes, sir. (He rises and goes to the door.)

Sladder: The battle of Waterloo was won on the playing fields of some damned place. A million of money will be won or lost in this house in five minutes.

Splurge: In this house, sir?

Sladder: Yes, in Ermyntrude's sitting-room. Send for her.

Splurge: Yes, sir. Yes, sir. Miss Sladder! Miss Sladder!

Ermyntrude (off): Yes, Mr. Splurge.

Splurge: Would you come to the study, miss, Mr. Sladder wants to speak to you.

Ermyntrude: O, yes, Mr. Splurge.

Sladder: The test! The test!

[Re-enter Splurge.

Splurge: Miss Sladder is coming, sir.

Sladder: The test!

[Enter Ermyntrude.

Ermyntrude: What is it, father?

Sladder: How are your white mice, child?

Ermyntrude: Quite well, father, both of them.

Sladder (draws a box from his pocket, takes out a little bit of cheese): Give them that, Ermyntrude.

Ermyntrude: That, father. What is it?

Sladder: Cheese.

Ermyntrude: May I have a bit?

Sladder: No, don't touch it!

Ermyntrude: Very well, father.

Sladder: If they eat it, you shall have——

Ermyntrude: What, father?

Sladder: Anything, everything. Only go and give them the cheese.

Ermyntrude: All right, father.

[She moves to the door R., she looks round, then goes out by the French window instead.

Sladder: Why are you going that way, child?

Ermyntrude: O—er—I thought it would be nice to go round over the lawn, father. I can get in by the drawing-room.

Sladder: O, very well. Be quick, dear.

Ermyntrude: All right, father.

[The magnet that has attracted Ermyntrude to the lawn now appears in the form of Mr. Hippanthigh, passing the window on his way to the hall-door. Sladder and Splurge do not see him, having their backs to the window. Ermyntrude looks round now and then to be sure of this. They hold hands longer than is laid down as necessary in books upon etiquette under the head of visiting. She gives him a look of glad and hopeful interrogation but he shakes his head solemnly, and passes gravely on, as one whose errand is no cheerful duty. She looks after him, then goes her way.

Sladder: Well, Splurge, we can