"SCORED."

Dunstan Times, Issue 2356, 5 November 1906, Page 6

" SCORED."

(Tho Conservatory at Lady Emdale's. Mrs Martlett fanning herself loiaurely, while Dick Sylvester leana against the pedesta\ of a statuette of Constancy.) Mrs Martlett—After alt these years! Dink Sylvester (briskly)— Well, seven year 3 is a tood t-pan. Mrs Harriett (sentimentally)— How many things have happened ? Dick Sylvester (smiling) —Things mostly do happen whoa they've time, don't they? Mrs Martlett (gently;—Ah, but you kuow what I mean ! Seven years ago you and I D.i-k Sylvester (brightly)—Oh, don't let us aro in for reminiscences ! It's alt very well—you don't look an hour older; but time doesn't feel called upon to be amiable to u9 mere males ! Mrs Martlett (sentimentally)— You are jnfit the same Dick ! Dick Sylvester (laughing) quite sure whether that remark ought to make me proud or abashed. Mrs Martlett (dreamily)—Do you remem. ber it was in this very house that we met last? Dick Sylvester—Yes, I remember perfeotly. Mrs Martlett (puts her fan down with a eiarb)—You haven't forgiven me, Dick? 'Dick Sylvester—My dear Mrs Martlett, if I had two grains of commonsenae, I should never have imagined that there was anything to forgive. Mrs Martlett (quiokly)—But the letter— Dick Sylvester (smiling)—A youthful indiscretion. Mrs Martlett—lt was very cruel. D'wk Sylvester—As far as I remember, it was ex-reaely silly. Mrs Martlett (pleadingly)— Dick—l must call you Dick—you never understood it at all! Dick Sylvester—Of course, that was the mischief of it. Mrs Martlett—You mean Dick Sylvester (apologetically)—l was ridiculously youug and inexperienced, and most absurdly in love with you. I took it all 'au grand serieux.' Mrs Martlett-But Dick Sylvester—But as I didn't hail quite from the backwoods, that was unpardonable, wasn't it ? Mrs Martlett (playing with her fan)—lf I could have done as I choose, I'd Dick Sylvester (smiling)— Yes? M;s Martlott—But what was I to do? My aunt had brought me up. Could Ibe so"x;uKra*eful as to overthrow all her hopes? D.',;k Sylvoster (solemnly)— Iphigenia in M>ij fair! D ;ar Mrs Martlett, why should we rake up all this now ? IMrs Martlett—Yon have misunderstood me ali along, (pleadingly): Dick Dick Sylvester (ins matter-of-fact tone) No ; on the contrary, I understood perfectly. You wevo extremely pretty. George Martlett cams, saw, and was conquered. Ho had twenty thousand pounds a year ; there was only one possible epilogue, wasn't there ? No weil-uainoi girl could have hesitated between an Australian millionaire and a poor devil who could not have kept her in gloves, so she jilted the one and married the other. Mrs Martlett (plaintively) Yon put it very brutally, Duk ! You haven't once said yon v.'(,re glad I'd come back. Dole Sylvister (heartily)— But I am awfully glad.' Mrs Martlett (btightening) Really ? (Smiles) It wasn't wildly exciting out there you know, and poor dear George was not particularly entertaining every day. Dick Sylvester (politely)—l don't remember seeing very much of the late Mr. Martlett. Mrs Martlett—l always wanted him to como homo ; but you couldn't get him away from Sydney. Poop George, he was very colonial.' Dick Sylvester (cheerfully)— Well, at any rate, here you aro among your own people again, ami with what some French fellow calls ' La baton do marechal do la femuie.' Mrs Martlett-What's that? Dick Sylvester—Widowhood. Mrs Martlott (<imp?ring)—Oh ! (Looks up at him coquettishly.j And how everyone is talking of you ! People say that you are the dramatist of tho future Dick Sylvester (interrupting her) —lt sounds very ungrateful of me, but ought not we to, go back fo the ballroom now. I shall bo torn asunder by your angry partners if I keep you liero any longer. Mrs Martlett (slips her hand under his arm)—No, there is no day—no time for you. Come when you like, and as often as you like. Dick Sylvester—Bat, dear Mrs Martlett— Mrs Mirtiett (Tenderly)— Not Mrs Martlett for you. Gall me Stella, as in the old days. Dick Sylvester (with a carious smile)—l via afraid that Mrs Martlett—That people talk! Who is there to whom it can matter now?' D.ek Sylvester (laughing)—My wife, possibly. I must introduce you to [Me stops short. Mrs Martlett has slipped bis arm and crossed the threshold of the ballroom quickly, aoooatbg the first man she meets with groat volubility. Dick chuckles quietly to himself hq he makes his way in ttio opposite direction.]—T. E. G.