By Fred M. Simpson

PERSONS REPRESENTED

Lucy Rimmerton. Harold Sekbourne

Scene I--The period is 1863

_The sitting-room in_ Lucy Rimmerton's _lodgings. She is seated in front of the fire making some toast._

_Lucy._ There! I think that will do, although it isn't anything very great. [_Rises._] What a colour I must have! Harold says I always manage to toast myself very much better than I do the bread. [_Lights the gas, and begins arranging some flowers on the table._] His favourite flowers; I know he will be pleased when he sees them. How strange it is that he should really care for me!--I, who am so commonplace and ordinary, hardly pretty either, although he says I am. I always tell him he might have done so much better than propose to a poor governess without a penny.--Oh, if only his book proves a success!--a really great success!--how glorious it will be! Why doesn't the wretched publisher make haste and bring it out? I believe he is keeping it back on purpose.

What dreadful creatures they are! At first--squabble, squabble, squabble; squabble about terms, squabble about this, another squabble about that, and then, when everything is finally arranged, delay, delay, delay. "You must wait for the publishing season." As though a book were a young lady whose future might be seriously jeopardised if it made its _debut_ at an unfashionable time.

[_The door opens, and_ Harold _bursts into the room_.]

_Harold._ It's out, it's out; out at last.

_Lucy._ What, the book! Really! Where is it? Do show it to me.

_Harold._ Do you think you deserve it!

_Lucy._ Oh! don't tantalise me. Have you seen it? What is it like!

_Harold._ It is printed, and very much like other books.

_Lucy._ You are horrid. I believe you have it with you. Have you?

_Harold._ And what if I say yes?

_Lucy._ You have. Do let me see it.

_Harold._ And will you be very good if I do!

_Lucy._ I'll be angelic.

_Harold._ Then on that condition only--There! take it gently. [Lucy _s.n.a.t.c.hes it, and cuts the string_.] I thought you never cut string?

_Lucy._ There is never a never that hasn't an exception.

_Harold._ Not a woman's, certainly.

_Lucy._ Oh! how nice it looks! And to think that it is yours, really and truly yours. "Grace: a Sketch. By Harold Sekbourne." It's delicious!

[_Holding the book, dances round the room._]

_Harold._ I shall begin to be jealous. You will soon be more in love with my book than you are with me.

_Lucy._ And why shouldn't I be? Haven't you always said that a man's work is the best part of him?

_Harold._ If my silly sayings are to be brought up in evidence against me like this, I shall----

_Lucy._ You shall what?

_Harold._ Take the book back.

_Lucy._ Oh, will you? I should like to see you do it. [_Holds it behind her._] You have got to get it first.

_Harold._ And what are you going to give me for it?

_Lucy._ Isn't it a presentation copy?

_Harold._ It is the very first to leave the printer's.

_Lucy._ Then you ought not to want any payment.

_Harold._ I do though, all the same. Come--no payment, no book.

_Lucy._ There, there, there!

_Harold._ And there.

_Lucy._ Oh! don't! You'll stifle me. And is this for me; may I really keep it?

_Harold._ Of course you may; I brought it expressly for you.

_Lucy._ How nice of you! And you'll write my name in it?

_Harold._ I'll write the dedication.

_Lucy._ What do you mean?

_Harold._ You shall see. Pen and ink for the author! A new pen and virgin ink!

_Lucy._ Your Authorship has but to command to be obeyed.

_Harold._ [_Sitting down, writes._] It is printed in all the other copies, but this one I have had bound specially for you, with a blank sheet where the dedication comes, so that in your copy, and yours alone, I can write it myself. There.

_Lucy._ [_Looks over his shoulder and reads._] "To my Lady Luce." Oh, Harold, you have dedicated it to me!

_Harold._ Who else could I dedicate it to? although 'tis--

"Not so much honouring thee, As giving it a hope that now It may immortal be."

_Lucy._ It is good of you.

_Harold._ [_Writes again._] "Harold Sekbourne"--what's to-day?--oh, yes, "3rd November, 1863."