*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 64794 ***

BETSY BAKER!

OR,

TOO ATTENTIVE BY HALF.


A FARCE.

IN ONE ACT.


BY

JOHN MADDISON MORTON,

_Member of the Dramatic Authors’ Society,_

AUTHOR OF

_Box and Cox, Two Bonnycastles, Who stole the Pocket Book, The
Midnight Watch, Poor Pillicoddy, Going to the Derby, Old Honesty,
Grimshaw, Done on both Sides, Young England, The King and I, My Wife’s
Second Floor, The Double-Bedded Room, Wedding Breakfast, Milliners’
Holiday, The Irish Tiger, Who’s the Composer, Who do they take me for,
The Attic Story, Brother Ben, Who’s my Husband, Thumping Legacy, &c.,
&c._


THOMAS HAILES LACY,

WELLINGTON STREET, STRAND,

LONDON.




First performed at the Royal Princess’s Theatre,

On Wednesday, November 13th, 1850.


Characters.

  MR. MARMADUKE MOUSER        ... Mr. KEELEY.
  MR. CRUMMY                  ... Mr. J. VINING.
  MRS. MOUSER                 ... Miss MURRAY.
  BETSY BAKER (_a Laundress_) ... Mrs. KEELEY.


Costumes.

MOUSER--Shawl pattern dressing gown, light brown vest, and fashionable
dark grey check trousers. _Second Dress_--Exchanges gown for dark
blue coat.

CRUMMY--Fashionable black Oxonian coat, light drab vest, and light
grey trousers.

MRS. MOUSER--White muslin dress with amber satin ribbons over an amber
satin dress, fashionable lace cap, &c.--_Second Dress_--Light
blue silk mantilla over the above, white silk drawn bonnet.

BETSY BAKER--Pink print dress with very short sleeves, laundress’s
blue check apron, neat laced boots.


Time in Representation--45 minutes.




BETSY BAKER!


SCENE.--_A handsomely furnished Apartment. Doors in flat, R. and L. C.
Another door, L. 2 E. Piano-forte, table, chairs, &c._

_MRS. MOUSER seated at table, working. MOUSER, in a dressing gown,
seated at piano-forte, R._

MOUS. (_accompanying himself, and singing_)

  “On the margin of fair Zurich’s waters,
   Ya--oo--oo!”

That isn’t quite the thing. (_repeating_) Ya--oo--oo! That’s more
like it!

MRS. M. (_throws down her work_) This is really intolerable! I
wish you wouldn’t attempt to sing that song, Mr. Mouser. You’ll never
accomplish it.

MOUS. I _will_ accomplish it, Mrs. Mouser. Indeed, I may say, I _have_
accomplished it--all, except the “Ya--oo--oo,” and I’m not going to be
beat by a “Ya--oo--oo,” I can tell you. No, Mrs. Mouser, I’ll
accomplish that “Ya--oo--oo,” if I die for it! (_very loud, and out of
tune_) “Ya--oo--oo!” No--that’s worse than ever.

MRS. M. It’s quite clear that you are determined to annoy me.

(_pouting_)

MOUS. (_comes down quickly; very tenderly_) Annoy you? _You_, my
Anastasia? _You?_ Pooh!

MRS. M. I’ve told you a hundred times, Marmaduke, that you haven’t a
single note in your voice.

MOUS. Then the more creditable in your Marmaduke to try and get a
few. (_in a solemn tone_) Anastasia, we live in a wonderful age.
Every thing we see above us, below us, and all round about us, proclaims
the triumph of mind over matter.

MRS. M. (_yawns slightly_) Well, I don’t deny it, do I?

MOUS. You _can’t_ deny it. Look at the Railroads--oblige me by looking
at the Railroads, with their gigantic viaducts, their stupendous
aqueducts--look at the Electric Telegraph over the Straits of
Menai--look at the Tubular Bridge under the Straits of Dover! And
how--how is this done? By perseverance--by determination! And shall I
flinch from a paltry obstacle? Never! So here goes again! (_very loud_)
“Ya--oo--oo!”

MRS. M. (_listening_) Hark!

MOUS. What?

MRS. M. I thought I heard my dear Cousin Crummy outside. But of
course that would give _you_ no gratification.

MOUS. You wrong me, Anastasia. As long as your Cousin Crummy is
outside, and _keeps_ outside, I don’t care how often I hear him.

MRS. M. (_severely_) Mr. Mouser!

MOUS. Understand me, Anastasia, I mean no disrespect to your Cousin
Crummy--on the contrary, Crummy’s a man I like--but Crummy’s like many
other good things in this world, a little of him goes a long way. In
short, he gives us too much of his society.

MRS. M. Because he sees we are so much alone.

MOUS. But we never are alone. Crummy won’t let us be alone.

MRS. M. Well, isn’t it natural that he should drop in upon us? Isn’t
he your partner in the business? Isn’t he one of the firm, Mouser and
Crummy, Attorneys-at-law?

MOUS. Yes, and why? Because you chose to fancy that my practice was
more than I could get through, and that I required a partner.

MRS. M. I confess I did, and you took him in.

MOUS. I beg your pardon--he took _me_ in; and pretty considerably
too, for he pockets half the profits, and leaves me all the work.

MRS. M. How can you say so? Isn’t he gone out on business now--and all
the way to Pentonville, too?

MOUS. All the way from Islington to Pentonville!

MRS. M. Then why didn’t you go yourself? (_rises_)

MOUS. And leave _you_, my ’Stasia? (_tenderly_) You that I adore with a
degree of intensity closely bordering on insanity! Besides, it isn’t
because a Mrs. Jones from Northamptonshire--a Jones I don’t know--a
Jones I never saw--a Jones I never even heard of, chooses to send for
me, that therefore I must go to that Jones, Jones can’t expect it!

MRS. M. (R.) But no doubt she wishes to consult you on business, and
she might prove an excellent client.

MOUS. (L.) I hate business! I hate clients! I hate everything in the
world but you, my ’Stasia. What’s the world to me? Nothing! What are its
“gay and festive scenes, its halls of dazzling light” to me? Nothing!
Oh, ’Stasia! ’Stasia!

MRS. M. What nonsense you talk. One would suppose we had only been
married a week instead of a year. Has any one been here for me?

MOUS. (_eagerly_) Any one! Not that I know of. Who do you
expect?

MRS. M. Why only the laundress with my veil. She promised faithfully
to let me have it to-day. When you go out, perhaps you will just call,
and say I’m waiting for it. It’s only just over the way.

MOUS. Of course, if you insist upon it, I will. But perhaps you’re
not aware that there are usually from thirty to forty females of various
ages and dimensions engaged in that establishment _over the way_,
and I don’t think it would be exactly the safest place in the world for
an unprotected male. Besides, I might be seen entering the premises,
and then what would people say? Am I not known in the neighbourhood as
the best of husbands? When we go out don’t the people rush to their
doors and windows to look at us? Oh, ’Stasy! ’Stasy!

MRS. M. Ha, ha, ha! My dear Marmaduke, you are certainly getting a
little cracked on the subject.

MOUS. I know it. I’m so much cracked that I wonder I don’t fall to
pieces. But I can’t help it. (_placing his arm round her waist_)

CRUM. (_without, L. D. F._) Oh, Mouser’s at home, is he?
Particularly engaged, d’ye say? Pooh, pooh! I know better.

MOUS. (_aside_) I shall do Crummy a terrific injury some of these
days. I’m sure I shall.

_Enter CRUMMY, L. D. F._

CRUM. (_advancing to MOUSER, C., and giving him a slap on the
back_) Ah, Mouser, my boy--sure to find you at home, eh? Ha, ha!
Always together, eh? Billing and cooing, and all that sort of thing, eh?
(_giving MOUSER a poke in the side_) By-the-bye, I’ve just come
from Mrs. Major-General Jones. She would have nothing to say to me.
She insists on seeing the head of the firm, so I told you’d be with her
in a quarter of an hour.

MOUS. (R.) Did you? Then you had better go back to Mrs. Jones, and
tell her that I shan’t do anything of the sort.

CRUM. (C.) But you _must_. Her’s is a very important case.
Neither more nor less than a separation from her husband, Major-General
Jones.

MOUS. I’ll have nothing to do with it. Major-General Jones has never
offended me--what right, then, have I to stand between Major-General
Jones and Mrs. Major-General Jones, and say to Major-General Jones,
“Major-General Jones, take a last look at Mrs. Major-General Jones, for
you’ll never set your eyes on Mrs. Major-General Jones again?” It’s
absurd!

CRUM. But he ill-treats her--games, drinks, squanders her fortune--and,
they do say, is not particular as to the number of his attachments.

MOUS. (_with a look of horror_) ’Stasy, can such things be? (_drags
off his dressing gown, which he throws into CRUMMY’S face, who places
it on back of chair, R. of table._) My coat--my hat--my blue
bag--quick! (_CRUMMY exits into office, R. D. F._) Oh, the monster!
But I’ll hold him up to the execration of mankind. “Not particular as
to the number of his attachments!” Gracious goodness! And to think
that such a man is able to walk the streets without a policeman on
each side of him. (_CRUMMY returns with hat, coat, and blue bag_) But,
as I said before, I’ll expose him! (_in his excitement he puts on the
dressing gown again--puts on CRUMMY’S hat, and takes CRUMMY’S umbrella
from table_) I shan’t be long, my ’Stasia. I shall soon return on the
wings of love---- (_going_)

MRS. M. (_L., detaining him_) You’re surely not going out in
your dressing gown?

MOUS. Eh? yes--it is my dressing gown, I declare. On second thoughts,
I really don’t see why I should interfere between these Joneses.
(_places hat and umbrella on the table_) I’d rather by half stop
with you, my ’Stasy.

CRUM. Nonsense. You must go. Mrs. Major-General Jones expects you.
(_taking hold of one of the sleeves of the dressing gown_)

MRS. M. (_taking hold of the other_) Of course--Mrs. Jones
expects you.

CRUM. You wouldn’t keep a young and pretty woman waiting?
(_handing him his coat_)

MOUS. Oh, she’s young and pretty, is she? You hear, ’Stasia--she’s
young and pretty. (_puts on coat_) You expose me to her fascinations,
’Stasia----

MRS. M. (_smiling_) I’m not at all afraid.

MOUS. And why--why are you not afraid? Because, as you must have
observed, you no sooner set your foot on the ground than I instantly
commence adoring the bit of ground you set your foot on.

MRS. M. (_with impatience_) Yes, yes--but make haste. And you can
join me at my sister Charlotte’s. You know we drink tea there this
evening----

MOUS. Yes, at eight o’clock. But it isn’t five yet.

MRS. M. What of that? I promised her to come early--she’s teaching me
a new pattern in knitting.

MOUS. Yes, I heard her the other day. She was telling you to drop
one, and then take up two. She didn’t say what, but I must say I was
rather surprised at her requesting you to “turn over twice”--especially
so soon after dinner.

MRS. M. Ha, ha, ha! Good-bye--for I’m in a hurry to dress.

MOUS. (_detaining her_) One fond embrace before we part! (_kisses
her_) Keep up your spirits in my absence. (_going--stops_) Another
fond embrace before we part!

MRS. M. (_with evident impatience_) Psha! (_MOUSER going
again_) You’ll not forget the message about the veil----

MOUS. Certainly not. (_going--stops_) Another fond embrace
before----

CRUM. Go along! (_pushes him out, L. D. F._) Well, coz, you
certainly may say you’ve got the most attentive husband in the
world.

MRS. M. Too attentive by half!

CRUM. Eh?

MRS. M. (_seriously_) Yes, cousin. Few women are proof against
ridicule--and some husbands would do well to remember that there is a
point when attention to a wife becomes a burden, and even affection a
persecution. Yes, yes, cousin--he’s too attentive by half!

_Exit, L. D._

CRUM. “Too attentive by half!” Then it is as I feared, and that
simpleton, Mouser, doesn’t see that he is persecuting his wife with his
affection. She evidently dreads a conjugal _tête-à-tête_, and no
wonder. He never leaves her for a moment; but there he is, eternally and
everlastingly at her side, “sighing like furnace,” and making himself
ridiculous in her eyes. Mischief will certainly come of it. Some remedy
must be devised. But what? If I could only contrive to excite
Anastasia’s suspicions that her husband, like Major-General Jones, is
not exactly satisfied with one attachment at a time----By this means her
jealousy might be roused. But she wouldn’t believe _me_. No,
Mouser himself must supply the materials. But how? (_BETSY BAKER
knocks at L. D. F._) Come in!

_BETSY appears at L. D. F., with a small parcel._

BET. Mrs. Mouser’s veil----

CRUM. Come in, my dear.

BET. Pattens and all, sir?

CRUM. No. You may leave them outside.

BET. If it’s the same to you, sir, I’d rather not.

CRUM. Then take them off, at all events.

BET. Of course, sir. (_takes off her pattens, and comes forward,
carrying them in her hand_) It isn’t likely I should go for to walk
on a carpet, especially when the roads are so dreadful muddy.

(_putting her pattens down on table with a slam_)

CRUM. Zounds! Don’t put ’em on the table! (_takes pattens from
her_)

BET. I’m sure I don’t know what to do with ’em, so put ’em where you
like.

CRUM. Ha, ha! Heyday! I think I ought to know that face again.

BET. If you ever saw it before, you certainly ought.

CRUM. Have I not met you rather frequently of late, walking of an
evening with our young clerk, Joseph Harris?

BET. Yes, sir. We’ve rather delicate constitutions both of us, so we
generally go out for a little fresh air and exercise every Monday,
Tuesday, Wednesday, Thursday, Friday, and Saturday, after work hours. We
can’t get out any other evenings, sir. I suppose, you’re Mr. Crummy!
You’re not Mr. Mouser. We all know _him!_

CRUM. We! Who?

BET. Why, all us girls at the laundry over the way. Ah, there’s a
pattern for a husband! ’Tisn’t every woman, sir, as gets a Mouser. No,
sir--Mousers are scarce.

CRUM. And yet you’d take your chance and marry Joseph Harris?

BET. Just try me! And now I think of it, sir, he has told me more
than once that you said if ever he found a nice, genteel, respectable
young woman that he’d like to marry, you’d do something for him,
sir.

CRUM. Oh, then, you, I suppose, are the----

BET. The young woman? Yes, sir, Elizabeth Baker, the youngest of
sixteen sisters, and all of ’em girls, sir--and hard-working girls, too,
sir. It’s worth going over to our laundry to see us, sir. Fancy sixteen
Bakers a washing, all of a row!

CRUM. Well, I’ll bear my promise in mind.

BET. Don’t you think you’d better get it off your mind at once, sir?
There’s a nice little shop in the greengrocery line, to be let at the
corner of the street--and, as Harris doesn’t seem very fond of
the law, it would be just the very thing for us.

CRUM. (_aside_) Egad, here’s an opportunity for driving a
bargain. She’s a smart little body enough, and if she can only be
induced to act as I direct--I’ll feel the ground at all events.
(_aloud_) I suppose you’ve brought Mrs. Mouser’s veil? (_pointing
to parcel_)

BET. Yes, sir.

CRUM. Mr. Mouser called and told _you_ to do so, eh?

BET. He didn’t address himself to any of us in particular, sir. He
just popped his head in at the door, and said, “Mrs. Mouser wants her
veil directly,” and then took to his heels as if he was frightened to
look at any woman but his wife. Lor! what a happy couple they must
be!

CRUM. (_with a deep sigh_) Happy! (_solemnly_) They are _not_ a happy
couple!

BET. Lawks!

CRUM. Yet they might be--but, unfortunately, there is only one person
in the world who could make them so.

BET. And who is that?

CRUM. You.

BET. (_with a jump_) Me! I’m sure I’ll set about it directly, if
you’ll only tell me how.

CRUM. I will. (_looks mysteriously about him--BETSY watches
him with astonishment--then in a loud whisper_) You must fall in love
with Mr. Mouser.

BET. Sir!

CRUM. And Mr. Mouser must instantly fall in love with you.

BET. (_staring at him--then with dignity_) Give me my pattens,
sir, and let me go. Give me my pattens, I say.

CRUM. ’Pshaw, child! You misunderstand me. Listen! Your sudden
passion for Mouser----

BET. (_seizing hold of them, and trying to pull them out of CRUMMY’S
hand_)

CRUM. Oh! Very well! It’s a pity, too--for a married couple might do
very well.

BET. My pattens!

CRUM. At that little greengrocer’s shop at the corner of the
street.

BET. My pat--(_letting go the pattens_) Well, they’re not worth
making a piece of work about.

CRUM. (_smiling_) Oh! Then as I was going to say--your passion
for Mouser, will, of course, be merely assumed, but you must contrive to
make him fall in love with you, in downright earnest.

BET. I can’t do it, sir. I wouldn’t mind trying, if I wasn’t such a
dragon of virtue--but I’m sorry to say I am.

CRUM. Then somebody else will.

BET. But if he should happen to captivate me?

CRUM. That’s your affair.

BET. But why--why am I to do all this?

CRUM. That’s my affair.

BET. (L.) But what will Mrs. Mouser say?

CRUM. That’s her affair.

BET. But she’ll go and imagine all sorts of things.

CRUM. I hope she will. Come, is it a bargain? Will you have Joseph
Harris, and the little greengrocer’s shop, or will you take your pattens
and go? (_offering them_)

BET. You can keep the pattens.

CRUM. Spoken like a sensible girl. (_places patterns in passage,
L.C._) I expect Mouser every minute.

BET. Oh lud! (_about to run off_)

CRUM. Don’t run away. (_stopping her_)

BET. But, consider, sir, you can’t expect me to act a part at a
moment’s notice.

CRUM. Then take that veil to Mrs. Mouser, and in a few minutes you
can come back, but be sure you _do_ come back!

_Enter MOUSER, L. D. F._

BET. (_looking at him_) Well, I don’t think there’s much danger
of my falling in love with _him_.

(_MOUSER, who has put his hat, &c., on table, C., turns and sees
BETSY, who runs off, L. D._)

MOUS. (_L., severely to CRUMMY_) Mr. Crummy, what is that young
person?

CRUM. Ha, ha! Come, I like that! Go along!

MOUS. But _I_ don’t like it, sir--neither shall I go along. I
repeat, who is that young person?

CRUM. Ha, ha! You do it very well, Mouser--but it won’t do--ugh! you
Don Juan! (_poking him in the side_)

MOUS. (_after a look of astonishment at CRUMMY, then aside_)
Can he have been drinking thus early.

CRUM. But I really think you might have waited till I was out of the
room, before you----

MOUS. Before I what, sir?

CRUM. You know--this sort of thing, eh? (_winking at MOUSER_) I
suppose you thought I shouldn’t see you do it, eh?

MOUS. Do it. Do what?

CRUM. Wink at her.

MOUS. (_with grandeur_) Mr. Crummy!

CRUM. That’s right--brazen it out--but let me tell you, sir, I have had
my eye upon you and that young woman for some time past.

MOUS. Oh, damn it, I can’t stand this! you forget that you’re a
junior partner, sir.

CRUM. And you forget that I’m your wife’s cousin, sir--yes, sir! And
I’ll not allow you to impose upon her with your pretended affection, you
good-for-nothing little hypocrite you, while you carry on an intrigue
under her very nose, sir.

MOUS. Nose, sir.

CRUM. No, sir! Neither will I suffer you to trifle with the feelings
of one that I’m determined shall not fall into the trap you have laid,
sir. You know who I mean--Baker, sir! (_going round him in front to L._)

MOUS. _I_ trifle with the feelings of a Baker! I lay a trap for
a Baker! You’re talking nonsense, Crummy!

CRUM. Come, come. Now that you see I’ve found you out--tell me how you
contrived to wheedle poor Betsy out of her affections?

MOUS. Crummy, I’m not apt to make use of strong language--but--by the
living jingo, I never wheedled a Betsy out of anything in all my
life!

CRUM. Well, I suppose I must believe you. But, intentionally or not,
you certainly have made a most powerful impression on her youthful
heart! She confessed as much to me just now.

MOUS. (_gradually dropping his look of indignation, and with
self-satisfaction_) Poor Betsy! I’m very sorry for her, I’m sure! I
say, Crummy, she’s a niceish little sort of a girl enough.

CRUM. Umph! so, so! (_in a contemptuous tone_)

MOUS. So, so! No, let’s be just, Crummy--let’s be just. She has good
eyes, Crummy, umph?

CRUM. (L.) Squints a little.

MOUS. Does she? I’ve never noticed her in the slightest degree
whatever--but I’m damned if she squints!

CRUM. At any rate her eyes seem good enough to have noticed
_you._ But, knowing you to be free from blame in the matter, I
reasoned with her, told her the folly of fixing her affections upon a
married man, but all in vain--so _you’d_ better take her in
hand.

MOUS. Do you think so?

CRUM. Certainly--you can talk to her seriously, but kindly.

MOUS. Of course, I shouldn’t go and behave like a brute to her! I
shouldn’t go to blow Betsy up.

CRUM. Certainly not--for, after all, the poor girl is more to be
pitied than blamed.

MOUS. Crummy, that sentiment does you honour! It shows that the milk
of human kindness flows in your bosom, Crummy. (_shaking CRUMMY’S
hand_)

BETSY. (_without, L. H._) Very well, ma’am, I’ll be sure to
remember it.

CRUM. That’s her voice! There’s something lively and cheerful about
it, eh?

MOUS. Yes, yes, it’s a pleasant voice, Crummy. (_arranging his
cravat, &c._)

CRUM. She _might_ have gone out by the back door, but, of
course, she knew that _you_ were here. Ha, ha! (_nudging
MOUSER, then retires up_)

MOUS. Pooh! Go along! I believe you’re about right, though, ’pon my
life I do!

_Enter BETSY BAKER, L. D._

BET. (_seeing MOUSER_) There stands my wretched victim! He
little knows what’s going to happen to him.

CRUM. (_C. aside to BETSY_) Now then, attention! (_aloud_)
Well, my dear, Mrs. Mouser was pleased with her veil I hope?

BET. (_crossing C._) Oh, yes, sir; but in getting it up, somehow
or other, I run the iron through it. I suppose I was thinking of
something else. (_looking languishingly at MOUSER, then aside
to CRUMMY_) How’s that?

CRUM. (_aside to her_) Capital!

MOUS. (_in a plaintive tone, and approaching BETSY_) Dear, dear,
so you run the iron through it, did you? What a pity!

BET. (_with pretended emotion_) Oh, sir! (_letting the veil
fall--aside to CRUMMY_) How’s that?

CRUM. (_aside to her_) Can’t be better!

MOUS. (_aside_) It’s a clear case! Poor _creetur!_ (_picks up the
veil, and offers it to BETSY_)

BET. Oh, sir! (_taking the veil, and squeezing his hand_) I’ve
done it! (_aside_)

MOUS. (_aside_) She squeezed my hand!

CRUM. (_to BETSY_) Perhaps you’ve seen Mr. Mouser before.
(_aside to her_) Sigh! (_CRUMMY crosses behind to R. C._)

BET. Heigho! (_aloud_) Oh yes, sir. I often see Mr. Mouser. I
saw him go out yesterday at thirteen minutes past four, and come in
again at twenty-seven minutes and a half past five.

CRUM. (_aside to MOUSER_) You see, she counts the very minutes.
(_aloud_) This is the young person who’s going to marry our clerk,
Joseph Harris.

MOUS. Soon? (R.)

CRUM. That depends on her. Harris wishes the marriage to take place
immediately, but there seems to be some _slight obstacle_ on her
part--and, strange to say, she won’t tell _me_ what it is.

MOUS. (_aside_) The thing’s evident. I’m the slight obstacle.

CRUM. Perhaps _you’ll_ be more fortunate. (_turning L., as going up
to L. D. F._)

MOUS. (_aside to him_) Good gracious, Crummy, don’t go, and
leave us alone.

CRUM. (_aside to him_) Of course! You’ve done the mischief, and
you must repair it. (_to BETSY_) Good bye, my good girl.

BET. (_with pretended alarm_) You’re not a-going, sir?

MOUS. Poor soul! She hopes he’s not a-going. (_aside_)

CRUM. (_aside to BETSY_) Capitally. Capitally acted, so far.
Only carry it on a little longer, and the shop is yours. (_aside
to MOUSER_) Did you ever see such a pair of eyes? (_aside, as he
goes out, towards L. D. F._) I’ll not lose sight of them.

_Exit L. D. F._

(_MOUSER and BETSY stand at opposite sides of the Stage. Their
eyes meet once or twice--she dropping them with emotion, and he
drawing himself up and trying to appear indifferent. CRUMMY
crosses unseen into Office, R._)

BET. Poor man! He’ll never begin, so I suppose I must. (_aloud_)
Sir!

MOUS. (_aside_) Mouser, be firm. No damned nonsense! Do your
duty, Mouser, and that duty commands you instantly to plunge a dagger
into the heart that adores you. Well, Miss Baker? (_with great
indifference--his back towards her_)

BET. Those as likes me calls me Betsy. (_in a plaintive tone_)
Call me Betsy, sir!

MOUS. No, Betsy--I shall not call you Betsy--I never do call people by
their Christian names, Betsy--never, Betsy! Never, Betsy!

BET. No more do I--unless they’re very--_very_ pretty ones indeed,
such as John, and Timothy, and Marma_dook_. (_in a tender tone,
and approaching him_)

MOUS. (_aside_) Mouser, be firm. (_turning to BETSY, and seeing her
close to him, begins whistling again. BETSY retires a step or two, and
approaches him again_) So, you think Marma_dook_ a pretty name, eh?

BETSY. Yes, sir. I could go on making rhymes to it all day long, as I
stand at the washing-tub: just like the man in the play.

  There’s not a name in any book,
  As can compare with Marma_dook_,
  No breeze as e’er the treeses shook,
  Sounds half as sweet as Marma_dook._

MOUS. (_aside_) It was wrong in me to stop. I feel, it was
highly wrong in me to stop. (_aloud_) But remember, you are going
to marry a Joseph.

BET. (_with sudden violence, and close to MOUSER_) Never!

MOUS. (_jumping away_) Don’t. But why not?

BET. I _don’t_ want to marry--I never _will_ marry--I’ll live
and die a Baker. (_with great energy_)

MOUS. But your reason--your motive--for dying a Baker?

BET. (_with a pathetic look at MOUSER_) Can _you_ ask? _You! You?_ Oh,
’tis too much! Oh! Oh! Oh! (_aside_) I wonder how I’m doing it.
(_hiding her face in her hands and sobbing_)

MOUS. Hush! (_tenderly_) Don’t cry--don’t make such a row, Miss
Baker.

BET. Call me Betsy!

MOUS. Very well, Betsy. (_aside_) I’ve been _too_ firm, Mouser, you’ve
been by many degrees too firm. (_aloud, and taking BETSY’S hand_) Now,
don’t cry, there’s a dear. (_aside_) I called her a dear!

_Here CRUMMY looks in from Office, and observes._

There--there--and, now laugh--laugh directly, you little rogue.
(_aside_) I called her a little rogue. (_chucks BETSY under the
chin_)

BET. (_looking nervously towards the door_) Oh, I think I’d
better go now, sir.

MOUS. Don’t be in a hurry, Betsy. He, he, he my pretty little
Betsy--for you _are_ pretty--_very_--_very_--he, he! (_laughs to
himself, aside_) I’m going it! I feel I’m rapidly becoming a horrid,
good-for-nothing little rascal! But I can’t help it.

BET. (_trying to disengage her hand_) But, sir, what would Mrs.
Mouser think?

MOUS. (_recklessly_) Mrs. Mouser may think whatever she likes. There,
what d’ye say to that? Ha, ha, ha! who’s afraid? (_suddenly and very
loud_) Betsy, embrace your Marma_dook_.

BET. (_frightened, takes up her pattens, and holds them out,
threatening him_)

MOUS. (_rushes at BETSY--she avoids him, leaving the veil in his
hand._)

CRUM. (_without_) Very well, I shall find him.

BET. Oh, lud! (_runs out at door, L. D. F._)

MOUS. Cousin Crummy! (_follows her to the door, then crams the veil
into his pocket and begins to whistle very loud_)

_Enter CRUMMY from Office._

CRUM. (R.) Oh, you’re alone, are you?

MOUS. Yes, yes. Amusing myself as well as I can. La, la, la!
(_singing_)

CRUM. Oh, then, she’s been gone some time I suppose?

MOUS. She? who? (_pretending to remember_) Oh, yes--little
Betsy--of course--I remember. Ha, ha, ha! How you could have got such an
absurd notion into your head, I can’t imagine. The girl never even
thought of me!

CRUM. (_aside_) The little hypocrite! (_aloud_) Then I must
have made a mistake.

MOUS. A mistake of the most gigantic dimensions, Crummy.

CRUM. Well--by the bye, your wife wants her veil. Where is it?
(_looking about_) Where’s the veil?

MOUS. Veil? Oh, here it is, but you know it wants mending.

CRUM. Oh, never mind a little tear like that.

MOUS. (_tearing a large hole in the veil, aside_) A little tear!
It’s tremendous! Look here. (_shewing it_) So, I’ll just leave it
with the young woman when I go past--(_aside_)--with a note inside,
requesting her to come here this evening, when my wife is out. I’m
rushing headlong into all sorts of iniquities! But, as I said before, I
can’t help it. (_gets hat, &c. from the table_)

CRUM. You’re going out again?

MOUS. (_imitating him_) Going out again, what a question!
Doesn’t Mrs. Major-General Jones expect me?

CRUM. (_smiling_) Again?

MOUS. Yes, sir, again! This case of Jones _v._ Jones is a very
complicated case, sir, and I must get a counsel’s opinion.

CRUM. Then, of course, you can’t accompany Anastasia to her
sister’s?

MOUS. Anastasia! Oh, true, I forgot her.

CRUM. (_aside_) Forgot his wife! Better and better. Ha, ha!
(_aloud_) Oh, here she comes--you can accompany part of the way.

MOUS. Eh? Yes, yes, of course! (_pulling out his watch, and looking
at it--then with, pretended surprise_) Goodness gracious! I shall be
too late for Mrs. Major-General Jones.

(_he rushes out, L. D. F._)

_Enter MRS. MOUSER in her bonnet and shawl, L._

MRS. M. (_calling after MOUSER, whom she sees running out_) Mr.
Mouser! Marmaduke! Call him back, cousin!

CRUM. It’s no use my calling him back, my dear--he saw you coming.

MRS. M. And now leaves the house again, without saying a word.

CRUM. And without his usual “fond embrace before we part!”

MRS. M. Yes--but this is neglect--downright neglect--not that it matters
to me.

CRUM. So I see. (_smiling_)

MRS. M. Mr. Mouser can go where he likes, and do what he likes--and so
can I. We needn’t interfere with one another in the slightest degree. I
shall go to my sister’s. If he chooses to come well and good. If not, I
dare say I shall find some one _polite enough_ to see me home! and
you may tell him so. (_going_)

CRUM. Well, but Anastasia?

MRS. M. (_in a loud voice_) You may tell him so.

(_goes out L. D. F., slamming door after her_)

CRUM. But Anastasia? Stop! Hear me! I’ll follow her--no, for if I do,
I shall leave the coast clear for Mouser--confound it. I wish I hadn’t
interfered at all. So I’ll find Betsy at once, and marry her off hand to
Joseph Harris and the little greengrocer’s shop. (_taking his hat,
&c._)

_BETSY peeps in L. D. F._

BET. Sir! Sir! Are you alone, Mr. Crummy?

CRUM. (R.) You’re the very young woman I wish to see.

BET. So are you, sir.

CRUM. I see--you’ve given him the slip, eh?

BET. Slip, sir! Who, sir?

CRUM. Mouser. Betsy, I’m afraid you’ve gone a little too far.

BET. (_drawing herself up_) You’ll be good enough to remember,
sir, that you are speaking to Betsy Baker? Didn’t you insist on my
making Mr. Mouser fall in love with me in downright earnest?

CRUM. Yes, yes.

BET. And ain’t he in love with me in downright earnest?

CRUM. Yes, confound him!

BET. Very well, sir. Then I’ll trouble you for the little
greengrocer’s shop at the corner of the street.

CRUM. Pooh! We’ll talk about that some other time. (_walking
about_)

BET. No, sir--now! now! (_following him_) I won’t go out of the
house, without the little greengrocer’s shop at the corner of the
street. I’ve worked hard for it!

CRUM. Pshaw!

BET. (_stopping_) Very well--then I know what I’ll do--I’ll fall
in love with Mouser in downright earnest, too! He’s a very nice little
fellow, Mr. Mouser! Where is Mr. Mouser? (_in a loud voice and walking
to and fro_) Where’s Mr. Mouser?

CRUM. (_following her_) Hush!

BET. (_louder still_) I want my Mouser!

CRUM. Be quiet; you shall have the shop--but, on this condition--that
you don’t see Mouser again.

BET. Then you must tell him I can’t come.

CRUM. Can’t come, where?

BET. Here, in an hour’s time. That’s what I came to tell you about.
He left Mrs. Mouser’s veil at our place just now, and, when I opened it
there was a letter inside!

CRUM. A letter?

BET. Yes, sir.

CRUM. From Mr. Mouser?

BET. Yes, sir, appointing me to meet him here.

CRUM. Why, then, the little profligate is really in love with her!
And you read the letter?

BET. No, sir, I defy anybody to say they ever saw me read anything.
So I gave it to one of our girls.

CRUM. The devil!

BET. No, sir, Big Charlotte--a red-haired young woman, on a large
scale. Perhaps you’ve noticed her, sir?

CRUM. Pshaw! Go on.

BET. Well, sir, she read the letter out loud, at the top of her
voice, sir--and she’s a very powerful organ. Perhaps you’ve heard her
organ, sir.

CRUM. Confusion! Then the contents of the letter--that Mouser had
asked you to meet him here----

BET. Was known all over the laundry in a twinkling. Fancy
thirty-seven female voices, including Big Charlotte’s, crying out,
“Lawks!” at the same moment? Of course, I was obliged to clear myself,
which I did, by telling them the whole business! How it was to oblige
you, that I was trying to make Mr. Mouser fall in love with me; because
as how you promised to give the little greengrocer’s shop at the corner
of the street to the young woman that succeeded in captivating him.

CRUM. Well?

BET. Well, sir--the words were no sooner out of my mouth, than all the
washing-tubs were deserted in a moment, and the whole of the
thirty-seven girls--Big Charlotte included--seemed determined to set
about captivating Mr. Mouser at once--and, as ill-luck would have it, he
passed by the window at that moment, sir--and they all instantly rushed
out after him, in a body.

CRUM. Zounds! There’s a pretty piece of business! What’ll become of
him? Why the devil did I interfere? (_snatches up his hat and runs
off_)

BET. But, sir! Mr. Crummy! Stop! Where’s my shop? I insist on my
shop!

(_Great noise of WOMEN’S voices suddenly heard--“Stop, sir!”
“Mr. Mouser!” “Don’t run!” “It’s only me!” &c.; MOUSER rushes in at
D. L. F., followed by WOMEN; after considerable trouble he turns them
out again at door and slams it--noise of WOMEN’S voices repeated_)

MOUS. (_shouting at the door_) Go along! Females begone!

(_WOMEN heard again at R. D., MOUSER runs and closes it_)

MOUS. (_advancing_) What the deuce is the matter with the women? What
are the police about? I pay the police rate--cheerfully and willingly
pay it--because I can’t help it. I provide a large body of men, not
only with the necessaries of life, but with the luxury of an oilskin
cape to protect them from the inclemency of the weather--and yet in
open day--walking slowly along the public streets--I find myself
suddenly overwhelmed by an avalanche of females! (_in a serious tone_)
It’s a retribution. Mouser, listen to me--you have a wife, Mouser--and
yet, you first run after another woman: and now you have fifty women
running after you, Mouser. It won’t do, Mouser! (_sees BETSY_) Ah,
Betsy!--so you’re come, eh?

BET. No, sir, I ain’t.

MOUS. Come, I like that.

BET. Well, if I have you sent for me.

MOUS. The fact is, I requested your presence here--to--to--reason with
you--on the--impropriety of your conduct.

BET. Sir. (_aside_) If I was only sure of the shop, I’d bust out
a laughing--but, as I ain’t, I dare not. (_aloud_) I see how it is
you want to break my heart.

MOUS. Hush! (_trying to pacify her_) You’re wrong, Betsy, but
you don’t know what it is to have a young and lovely wife, Betsy.

BET. Yes I do.

MOUS. No you don’t, and what’s more, you probably never will. And so,
Betsy--that is--I mean--I say--I mean--(_aside_)--I can’t make up my
mind as to what I _do_ mean.

_WOMEN heard again without._

MOUS. (_aside_) The women again! I’ll go and shut the office door, for
fear they should come in that way. (_goes off, R. D. F._)

BET. (_suddenly leaving off sobbing_) I’m horribly afraid the
little shop at the corner of the street, will slip through my fingers at
last. (_double knock at street door_) Oh, gemini! Who can that be?
What’ll become of me?

_MRS. MOUSER enters, L. D. F., followed by BOY._

MRS. M. Is Mr. Mouser at home?

BOY. No, ma’am.

MRS. M. Bring candles.

BOY. Yes, ma’am.

(_BOY goes off and returns immediately with candles, which he
places on table, and then retires at back. BETSY makes her
escape, and runs out L. D. F._)

MRS. M. Good gracious! What a commotion! There are at least thirty
women round the door! I’m quite alarmed! I feel I was wrong to leave the
house in a pet against Mr. Mouser. As for my Cousin Crummy’s
insinuations, I treat them with the utmost contempt. So, instead of
spending the evening with sister Charlotte, I determined to return home,
and give my poor dear affectionate little husband an agreeable
surprise.

MOUS. (_from within_) Don’t be impatient!

MRS. M. That’s his voice. Who can he be speaking to?

MOUS. (_from within_) I’ll be with you directly, Betsy.

MRS. M. Betsy! (_blows out candles, stage dark_) Oh! the monster!

_Re-enter MOUSER from Office, R. D. F._

MOUS. How dark it is! Betsy! Where are you, Betsy? (_feeling his way_)

MRS. M. (_in an assumed voice_) Here!

MOUS. Where?

MRS. M. Here, you wretch! (_gives him a box on the ears_)

MOUS. Zounds! (_lays hold of MRS. MOUSER, in the struggle she takes
off MOUSER’S wig, and runs into room, L., shutting door in MOUSER’S
face_)

MOUS. Holloa! She’s locked herself up, with my wig, in Mrs. Mouser’s
room. Betsy! Elizabeth! Miss Baker! Don’t be absurd! Come out of that
room--give me my wig! (_knocking and trying to open door_) Open the
door! Open it this instant, or I’ll overwhelm you with my indignation
through the keyhole.

_Enter CRUMMY from Office, with a candle._

CRUM. I can’t find him any where. (_seeing him_) Holloa!--ha, ha,
ha!

MOUS. Don’t laugh, Crummy, look at me! She’s here--I mean, she’s
there.

CRUM. Who?

MOUS. Betsy--in my wife’s room.

CRUM. Ah! Any one with her?

MOUS. Yes, my wig. This is your doing--this is your precious work.
(_seizing CRUMMY and shaking him_) It was you--you who exposed me to
the fascinations of this juvenile washerwoman. It’s through you that I
have lost my peace of mind, and my wig. Where are they? Where’s my
peace of mind? Where’s my wig?

(_shaking CRUMMY again violently_)

BETSY. (_who, during the latter part of MOUSER’S speech, has entered
L. D. F. and come down, L._) Yes, and where’s my shop?

MOUS. (C.) Exactly. Where’s my shop--I mean---- (_sees BETSY_) Holloa!

BET. (_seeing MOUSER, and then bursting into a violent fit of
laughter_) Ha, ha, ha! Oh, my! What a Guy! Ha, ha, ha!

MOUS. What d’ye mean by a Guy? (_suddenly recollecting. Snatches
CRUMMY’S hat out of his hand, and puts it on_) And how--how the
deuce did you get out of that room?

BET. I never was in it!

MOUS. Ha, ha! That’s right, Miss Baker! Stick to it, Miss Baker!
Perhaps you’ll go so far as to say that it wasn’t you who did me the
honour just now of boxing my ears, and run away with my wig.

BET. (L.) Certainly not.

MOUS. Then who was it? I repeat, who was it?

MRS. M. (_entering at door, L._) Your wife, sir!

MOUS. Anastasia! Crummy, take me away, and put me somewhere.

CRUM. (_R. C., aside to him_) Do as I do, and all will be right!
(_aside to BETSY, and giving her a paper_) There’s the lease of the
little shop, back me in all I say.

MRS. M. Now, Mr. Mouser, what have you to say for yourself?

CRUM. (_suddenly bursting into a fit of laughter_) Ha, ha, ha!
(_aside to BETSY and MOUSER_) Go it. Ha, ha, ha!

(_MRS. MOUSER enraged, walks up Stage, L._)

MOUS. }
      } (_laughing immoderately_) Ha, ha, ha!
BET.  }

CRUM. Capital. Ha, ha, ha! (_holding his sides_)

MOUS. Delicious. Ha, ha! (_imitating him_)

BET. Glorious. Ha, ha! (_aside_) I wonder what I’m laughing
at.

MRS. M. (L.) Mr. Mouser, I insist on your instantly explaining.

CRUM. He can’t speak for laughing--can you, Mouser? (_nudging MOUSER,
who is looking very serious_)

MOUS. (R. H.) No. (_bursting out again_) Ha, ha, ha!

MRS. M. (_to BETSY_) Young woman, speak this moment! (_angrily_)

BET. (_R. C., alarmed_) Yes, ma’am. It’s not my fault, ma’am, indeed
it isn’t--(_half crying_)--but you see, ma’am. (_CRUMMY nudges
her--then suddenly_) Ha, ha, ha!

CRUM. (_crosses L. C._) I must explain after all, I see--Anastasia
Mouser, not an hour since--and in terms as forcible as they were
pathetic--you brought a grave and heavy charge against your husband.

MRS. M. (_aside to CRUMMY, and rapidly_) Hush!

CRUM. Yes, Anastasia Mouser--and that charge was, that he was “_too
attentive by half._” It almost broke his heart. Didn’t it, Mouser?

MOUS. (_affecting pathos_) As near as a toucher!

CRUM. But suddenly a smile lighted up his benevolent
countenance--(_MOUSER smiles_)--and he said to me, “Crummy, I’ve an
idea.” Didn’t you, Mouser?

MOUS. Yes, I distinctly said, “Crummy, I’ve an idea.”

BET. I’ll swear to it. I heard him.

MRS. M. (_suddenly_) I see it all.

MOUS. (_aside_) That’s lucky. I’m damned if I do.

CRUM. And I determined to teach you this lesson--that the wife, who
could complain of too much attention from a husband, could only be cured
of her error by being led to suspect that that affection was bestowed on
another. (_gets round behind to R._)

MOUS. Exactly.

MRS. M. Then you have succeeded--for though, Marmaduke, you may love
me a thousand times better than ever--I’ll never complain again.
(_embracing MOUSER_)

MOUS. On these conditions, I forgive you.

MRS. M. My dear Cousin Crummy, what do I not owe you?

CRUM. First, pay your debts here. (_taking BETSY by the hand_)

MRS. M. Oh, you were in the plot too?

BET. Yes, ma’am.

MRS. M. And who are you?

BET. Betsy Baker as is--Mrs. Joseph Harris as will he.

MRS. M. And how can I serve you?

BET. By allowing me to serve you--the best of vegetables, and fresh
oysters every day.

MOUS. We’ll certainly deal with you. Eh, ’Stasy?

MRS. M. But I’ll go to market.

BET. (_to audience_) Do, ma’am--and I hope you will only be one
out of many customers, at our new shop, where by a supply of the best
articles we can get--joined with attention, civility, and moderate
prices, we hope to secure the patronage of the Nobility, Gentry, and the
Public in general.

  CRUMMY.   BETSY.   MOUSER.   MRS. MOUSER.
  RIGHT.                              LEFT.

  Curtain.


Printed by Thomas Scott, Warwick Court, Holborn.




Transcriber’s Note

This transcription is based on two sets of scans of the Lacy edition.
The first is available through the Internet Archive from a copy held
by the University of Warwick:

  archive.org/details/betsybakerortooa0000mort

The second, available through the Hathi Digital Library, is from a
copy of Volume 8 of Lacy’s Acting Edition of Plays from the University
of Michigan:

  hdl.handle.net/2027/mdp.39015067453061

The text of _Betsy Barker!_ begins on page 302 of the scans. Other than
differences in Lacy’s business address on the title page and
information about the printer at the end, the text of the two scan sets
appears to be the same. Because of issues related to publication, the
condition of the scanned copies, and the scanning process itself, both
sets were used for the transcription.

The following changes were made to the text:

Title page: Milliner’s Holiday--Changed to “Milliners’ Holiday”, the
correct title of the play.

--p. 3: I thought I heard my dear Cousin Crummy outside--Added a period
to the end of the sentence.

--p. 5: _who places it on back of chair, R. of table._--Added a closing
parenthesis.

--p. 7: ’Tisn’t every woman, sir, as get’s a Mouser.--Changed “get’s” to
“gets”.

--p. 9: but it won’t do do--ugh! you Don Juan!--Deleted the second “do”.

--p. 9: CRUM. Wink at her,--Changed the comma at the end of the line
to a period.

--p. 10: CRUM. Umph! so, so: (_in a contemptuous tone_)--Changed colon
to an exclamation mark.

--p. 12: such as John, and Timothy, and Marma_dook_--Added a period
after “Marma_dook_”.

--p. 12: MOUS. (_aside_) Mouser, be firm--Added a period after “firm”.

--p. 13: (_rushes at BETSY--she avoids him, leaving the veil in his
hand._--Changed the period after “_hand_” to a closing parenthesis for
consistency.

--p. 15: (_great noise of WOMEN’S voices suddenly heard_--Changed
“_great_” to “_Great_”.

p. 18: Young woman, speak this moment (_angrily_)--Added an exclamation
mark after “moment”.

Some inconsistencies, such as the inconsistent hyphenation of the
phrase “by the bye” and the different spellings of “pshaw”, have not
been standardized.

*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 64794 ***