A Little Bit of Fluff: A Farce in Three Acts

A LITTLE BIT OF FLUFF

[Characters]

[Act I]

[Act II]

[Act III]

[Transcriber’s Note]

A LITTLE
BIT OF FLUFF

A Farce in Three Acts

BY

WALTER W. ELLIS

COPYRIGHT 1922 BY SAMUEL FRENCH, LTD.

All rights reserved

THIS PLAY IS FULLY PROTECTED BY COPYRIGHT

ALL RIGHTS RESERVED

A fee for each and every performance is payable in advance. Inquiries in regard to performances by amateurs should be addressed to Samuel French, Inc.

SAMUEL FRENCH, INC.
25 WEST 45th STREET
NEW YORK CITY

Made and Printed in Great Britain by
Butler & Tanner Ltd., Frome and London

A LITTLE BIT OF FLUFF

[CHARACTERS]

ACT I

SCENE.—John Ayers’ Flat in Bayswater, No. 13 St. Mark’s Mansions.

Two weeks elapse.

ACT II

SCENE.—The same.

ACT III

SCENE.—Mr. Tully’s Flat—next door—No. 14 St. Mark’s Mansions.

A LITTLE BIT OF FLUFF

Produced at The Criterion Theatre, London, October 27, 1915, with the following cast of Characters:—

A LITTLE BIT OF FLUFF

[ACT I]

SCENE.—JOHN AYERS’ Flat in Bayswater.

The scene represents a room in the well-to-do flat of MR. JOHN AYERS, in the district of Bayswater. A door to the R. leads into the bedroom and another door L. leads to the hall and street. There are two French windows at the back with balconies beyond. A fireplace R. above door. Mirror on mantelpiece. Easy chair R. Table up R.C. above door, with a pot of marguerites upon it—a writing-desk up L.C. with telephone. A fancy table down L. with papers on it. [A plan of the scene] will be found at the end of the Play. Telegraph boy’s Knock and Ring heard off L. CHALMERS, a maid, enters at L. with one telegram on salver and crossing, meets PAMELA C. who has entered by door R. PAMELA is a smart woman of thirty-five, handsome and beautifully gowned.

PAMELA. What is it, Chalmers? (Seeing telegram.) Oh!

CHALMERS. Telegram, madam.

PAMELA. Thank you. (Opens and reads—gives vent to a sigh of satisfaction.) Hah! (She thinks.)

(Exit CHALMERS L. Telegraph boy’s knock and ring again off L. CHALMERS enters with second telegram.)

What’s that?

CHALMERS (still holding salver). Another one, madam.

PAMELA. Oh! (Reads again.) Yes—all right.

(CHALMERS is going.)

Oh—a—Chalmers—I’m expecting three more——

CHALMERS. Telegrams, madam?

PAMELA. Y—es. Bring them to me directly they arrive.

CHALMERS. Very good, madam.

(Exits L.)

(PAMELA glances again at telegrams, and then going up, places them carefully on table R.C. Door slam is heard off L. PAMELA surveys the room quickly and noticing her hat on table down L. crosses over and conceals it with papers, runs up to window L.C. and withdraws behind the window curtains. JOHN AYERS enters door L. He looks very smart in evening dress with coat and crush hat. He yawns and gazes sleepily around. Then crosses to arm-chair humming a tune and taking off coat, which he places over back of arm-chair, goes to mantelpiece over fireplace and looks in mirror.)

JOHN. What a face!

(Pulls himself together, takes vase from mantelpiece, places against his forehead and exits down R., slams the door after him. PAMELA comes from hiding-place and listens at door R., then picks up JOHN’S coat, comes C. and searches the inside pocket, takes out letters, but finds nothing incriminating, puts them back again. She pulls the sleeves of the coat out and sniffs twice, and along whole length of sleeve, then pulls necklace out of side pocket.)

PAMELA. Oh! Oh!

(She replaces necklace and puts coat on back of chair left of table R. Coming to door R. she taps loudly on it.)

JOHN (heard off, irritably). What is it?

(PAMELA repeats the knocking, then crosses to C.)

(JOHN is obviously changing his clothes and enters just with morning trousers and braces showing.)

What is it? What the devil——? (Surprised.) Oh! it’s you, Pam. I didn’t know you were home. Haven’t you been to Folkestone?

PAMELA. Of course I have. Mother wasn’t well, so we came back yesterday.

JOHN. Yesterday? Oh! Oh! oh! (Strolls off R. to get his waistcoat and jacket. Heard off.) Did you sleep at a—at mother’s last night?

(PAMELA does not answer, but is apparently annoyed.)

(Re-enter JOHN buttoning waistcoat.)

I say, I suppose you slept at your mother’s last night.

PAMELA (grimly). Where did you sleep?

JOHN. Where did I sleep?

PAMELA. I’m asking you.

JOHN. What a funny question to ask anyone! I slept at home—in there—of course . . . obviously . . . naturally.

PAMELA. Whenever you adopt that innocent attitude I always know you are telling me a wilful lie.

JOHN. I couldn’t tell you a lie if I tried. Do you remember that phrenologist we went to at Eastbourne? He told me I had an enormous bump of veracity.

PAMELA. This is nothing to do with phrenology. Am I to believe that you slept at home last night?

JOHN (guiltily). Y—yes, of course. Why?

PAMELA. I slept at home, too. Strange we didn’t meet.

JOHN. Yes, that is funny.

PAMELA. I locked that bedroom door from half-past eleven last night until nine o’clock this morning.

JOHN. Well, if you lock the bedroom door, how can you possibly expect me to sleep at home? Absurd! (Getting into jacket.) No, I’ll tell you the whole facts of the case, Pam. We went to the—er—opera last night.

PAMELA. We?

JOHN. Yes. My friend Tully and I. Tully had some tickets given him.

PAMELA. And you came home together?

JOHN. Y-yes. And—er—I slept at Tully’s.

PAMELA. What opera did you go to?

JOHN (broad gestures). The—a—a—the—a—that’s rather a silly question. No one ever goes to an opera and remembers anything about the performance.

PAMELA. But the name of the opera?

JOHN. Oh!—o-h! The name! (With assumed confidence.) You mean what the opera was called?

PAMELA. Exactly.

JOHN. The—er—the title?

PAMELA. Yes.

JOHN. Well—er—you know the—the opera where the girl comes on with a sewing machine—no, you know what I mean—a spinning wheel; two long plaits—Marguerite—Faust, that’s it!

PAMELA. Faust?

JOHN. Yes, Faust—with the devil in it.

(Business of putting fingers to forehead.)

PAMELA. And so you both went to see Faust?

JOHN. After that we came home. (Crosses to L. laughing). I remember making a joke to Tully——

PAMELA. Never mind the joke.

JOHN. Well, it was just then that I missed my latchkey.

PAMELA. You missed your latchkey?

JOHN. And it was rather late to rouse Chalmers, so Tully offered me a shakedown at his place, and I stayed there.

PAMELA. There’s a good deal of Tully about it. But if you lost your latch-key, how did you get in just now?

JOHN (smiling). Oh, I found the key afterwards.

PAMELA. Well, give it to me.

(JOHN hesitates.)

Give it to me, please. (JOHN obeys. She goes up to fireplace.) While I pay the rent of the flat——

JOHN. Oh, don’t say that. It isn’t cricket, Pam, to throw the rent up in my face. After all, it was you who made me give up my office in the city.

PAMELA. For the simple reason you were making——

JOHN. I was making a profit of five pounds a week!

PAMELA. And it was costing me another fifteen pounds to keep the office open. (Coming down to JOHN.) Now look here. I have enough for both, so long as you do not work in the City.

JOHN. Well, I can’t grub along on five pounds a week like some people.

PAMELA. Must I remind you that I have been allowing you forty pounds a month?

JOHN. No, excuse me, dear; it was agreed between us that my allowance should be fifteen pounds only.

(Telegraph knock and ring off L.)

PAMELA. I’m quite aware it was agreed. But you keep borrowing on account. Even now you are two years ahead with your money.

JOHN (faintly). As much as that?

PAMELA. Two years!

JOHN. How time flies! But I shall pay it back.

PAMELA. But let us keep to the point.

(CHALMERS enters with three telegrams on salver.)

About last night——

JOHN. For me?

CHALMERS. No, sir, for the mistress.

PAMELA. Oh—er—Chalmers (reading telegrams). Will you just knock at the flat next door and ask if Mr.—Tully is at home, and if so, will he kindly look in here for a moment?

CHALMERS (going). Very good, madam.

JOHN. Chalmers, Chalmers. (Beckoning CHALMERS to stop. To PAMELA.) You dare not do such a thing!

PAMELA (to CHALMERS). Do as I tell you, Chalmers.

(Exit CHALMERS.)

JOHN (as CHALMERS is going off). Chalmers—Cha—Cha—(Turns to PAMELA.) You are not going to show me up before my friends?

PAMELA. There will be no showing up, John, if what you say is true. (Moves up to table R.C.).

JOHN. No, no, of course not. (Moves to telephone.)

PAMELA. Besides, I don’t suppose your friend Tully would give you away. Men are such cunning brutes.

JOHN (with a burst which he checks instantly). Aha!

(PAMELA looks round, then goes on reading telegrams. At back, whispering into telephone.)

Give me Regent 346, Regent 346——

PAMELA (without turning). It’s no use your ’phoning Mr. Tully. I should be bound to hear what you said.

JOHN (innocently). I was only trying to get him to come up, dear.

PAMELA. Chalmers is quite capable of taking a message.

JOHN (rising and crossing to PAMELA). Hang it all, Pam, don’t you believe what I’ve told you.

PAMELA (turning sharply to JOHN.) Not—one—word!

JOHN. Why not?

PAMELA. This morning I sent a reply-paid wire to your friends at Kew.

JOHN. Harry Crombeley?

PAMELA. Yes—asking if you stopped there last night. This is his reply. (Hands wire.) Read it. Read it out please.

JOHN (takes wire gingerly. Reads). “Yes, John stayed here last night.” (Aside.) Silly owl!

PAMELA. Well?

JOHN. Dear old Harry! I expect he thought you would be worrying about me. He’s very thoughtful is Harry. (Gives wire back.)

PAMELA. Wait! I also sent a wire to your friend Blakiston at Kensington asking the same question. His reply—(handing second wire to JOHN.)

(JOHN amazed.)

—read it—read that out, please.

JOHN (takes wire—reads). “Yes, John stayed here last night.” (Pauses.) Well now, I can tell how this happened. (Gives back wire.)

PAMELA. Wait! Don’t commit yourself. I sent three other wires to Mr. Marshall, Gus Stanhope and Drayling. They all reply that you stayed with them. Read for yourself! (Hands wires to JOHN, which he does not take.)

JOHN. I can explain it all, dear! You see they were probably all together, and they thought they would put a spoof up on dear old John. They’re all jolly good friends.

PAMELA. Yes—they must all be very very good friends, or else they must have a shocking opinion of your habits.

JOHN. I can explain everything.

PAMELA. I believe you could explain the Tower of London away, but you can’t have slept in six different beds in one night, unless you were a sleepwalker.

JOHN. I still maintain that I slept last night at Tully’s.

PAMELA. We shall see. (Places telegrams on table R.C.)

(Enter CHALMERS.)

CHALMERS. Mr. Tully, madam.

(Holds door open until TULLY is on, then exits, closing the door. TULLY is rather a spare man—with drooping moustache and rather sanctimonious and miserable-looking. He enters and stands just above the small table down L., nervously twisting his hands.)

JOHN (on TULLY’S entrance JOHN makes a dive for TULLY). I say, Tully—didn’t I——

PAMELA (catches JOHN by right arm and pulls him down R., advances to TULLY.) How do you do, Mr. Tully? (Shakes hands.)

TULLY. How d’ye do, Mrs. Ayers? Morning, John!

JOHN. Morning, Tully.

PAMELA. Good morning?

JOHN. Ah, you see he wasn’t up when I left this morning, lazy beggar!

PAMELA (centre—to TULLY). I have to apologize, Mr. Tully, for bringing you out——

TULLY. Oh, not at all.

PAMELA. But we—er—John and I are in a little difficulty, and if you could see your way to answer a few questions, it would be doing us a great favour, and it might save both of us lifelong misery.

JOHN. My wife won’t believe that I——

PAMELA (to JOHN). Will you be quiet! You’re breaking down the one slender thread that holds our married life together—I want Mr. Tully’s version of last night without your assistance. (Turning to TULLY.) Now, may I ask, did you have anyone staying with you last night at the flat?

TULLY (shaking his head). N—o—not to my knowledge.

(JOHN is pointing to himself frantically.)

PAMELA. No one stayed at your place at all?

TULLY (seeing JOHN). Oh—er—(with a gulp)—John stayed there!

(PAMELA turns quickly, almost catches JOHN pointing to himself. JOHN makes a dive for book on table R.C., and turns pages over quickly.)

PAMELA (turns again to TULLY). But just now you said no one stayed there.

TULLY. We—we never count John as anybody.

JOHN (rubs hands with glee). No, dear, I’m nobody.

PAMELA (gives JOHN a freezing look—then again to TULLY). Now would you mind telling me how you passed the evening?

TULLY. Last night? (Looking at JOHN.)

PAMELA. Last night.

TULLY. Well, we—er—let me think. We—er—yes—

(JOHN points to window.)

—we went out.

PAMELA. And where did you go, might I ask?

(JOHN is gesticulating with one hand on his chest and openmouthed as in opera.)

TULLY (failing to interpret JOHN’S signals). It’s rather difficult to remember off-hand—one night is so very much like another.

PAMELA. Try to think.

(JOHN still gesticulating and openmouthed.)

TULLY. I think we must have been in a boat on the Serpentine.

(PAMELA turns quickly. JOHN goes up to table R.C. and smells marguerites. TULLY very embarrassed.)

JOHN. These are very beautiful flowers, dear. Did these come from Covent Garden?

PAMELA. Please don’t interrupt.

TULLY. Oh, now I remember—it’s about last night you want to know?

PAMELA. Last night!

TULLY. Oh, last night we went to Covent—to—to—to the opera.

(JOHN nods and smiles at TULLY.)

John had tickets given to him.

JOHN (annoyed). No, no—those tickets were given me to give to you. They were a present from Mr. Baxter.

TULLY. Oh, I didn’t quite understand. I must write and thank Mr. Baster.

JOHN. Baxter! Baxter!!

TULLY. Baxter—Baxter——

PAMELA. Who is Mr. Baxter?

JOHN. Don’t you know, dear?

PAMELA. Do you?

JOHN. Of course—he’s Mr. Baster—Baxter.

PAMELA (to TULLY). And did you enjoy the opera?

TULLY. Not very much. I really prefer the singing down at our chapel.

PAMELA. What opera was it?

TULLY. I don’t think I noticed.

PAMELA. Didn’t notice!

JOHN. Of course not, dear—no decent person ever does—it’s bad form.

PAMELA. Silence! (To TULLY.) Haven’t you any idea of the name of the opera?

TULLY. Not for the moment—er—er——

(JOHN points to pot of marguerites.)

I—er—Daisy—Daisy Daydreams?

PAMELA. I can’t say I have ever heard of an opera of the name of Daisy Daydreams.

(JOHN is now holding a plait made from his handkerchief to the back of his head.)

TULLY (watching JOHN). Was it something to do with—er—something hanging from the back of the head?

PAMELA. And you can’t remember the name of the opera?

TULLY. Not for the moment.

(JOHN points to marguerites again.)

Are—you—sure—it wasn’t Daisy—or Daisies—or Marguerite—er—

(JOHN nods his head.)

Marguerite!—er—er—Faust, of course!

JOHN. Yes, dear, Faust, of course!

(PAMELA turns quickly to JOHN.)

JOHN (just as quickly turns his back). Now are you satisfied?

PAMELA. And after you left the opera? (To TULLY.)

TULLY. We came home.

PAMELA. What induced John to sleep at your place, seeing your door is next to ours?

(JOHN signalling key in door and then lost.)

TULLY. Oh, he couldn’t find his keyhole.

(PAMELA turns quickly round to JOHN.)

JOHN. No, no, dear! We simply went to the opera and saw Daisy—Faust, I mean—came out—had a drink—I told Tully I couldn’t find my key—I suppose he thought I said key-hole—he offered me a shake-down and I stayed there. And I think such a clear explanation ought to satisfy anyone.

PAMELA (doubtfully). Yes, I suppose so.

JOHN (going to fireplace). Then everything is quite in order? (Very satisfied.)

(TULLY sighs.)

PAMELA (doubtfully). Y—y—es, y—y—es, except (picking up JOHN’S coat with left hand) could either of you explain this?

JOHN (coming down to PAMELA). That’s my coat!

PAMELA. No (taking necklace from pocket with right hand and holding it up) this!

(Pause—JOHN and TULLY both amazed.)

TULLY. Oh, that’s nothing to do with me.

JOHN. What is it, dear? What is it?

PAMELA. A pearl necklace. (turning to TULLY) I suppose you don’t wear pearl necklaces, do you, Mr. Tully?

TULLY. No, no!

JOHN. I can tell you all about that, dear. I saw that in a shop window and I picked it up very cheaply. I’m sure it’s a bargain.

PAMELA. And who was it intended for, may I ask?

JOHN. Who should I buy pearl necklaces for?

PAMELA. For me—for me, I suppose. (Boiling with rage and throwing coat up to settee C.)

JOHN. Of course—naturally. Ask Tully!

(TULLY goes to chair by telephone L.C., stands perfectly still, unnerved—JOHN below table R.C. stands blinking and looking into space.)

PAMELA (goes to table down L., uncovers her hat, picks it up—goes towards door R. As she passes JOHN). Oh! (Goes to door R., opens door.) Oh! (Exits door R. Bangs door after her.)

TULLY (flopping into chair he is standing by). Oh! I’m all of a tremble!

JOHN (crosses up to settee—puts coat on settee—then up to TULLY). You’re a boiled-headed owl!

TULLY. If you had told me yesterday that you could lie like that I should never have believed you.

JOHN (coming down R.). You did your share very well.

TULLY. What’s going to happen now?

JOHN. She’ll probably pack up and go home to her mother’s.

TULLY (rising and crossing to JOHN). John, where did you go last night?

JOHN. I took a little friend out to dinner and then we went on to the Palace, and after that we had supper at the Five Hundred Club. We watched them dancing and had a dance or two ourselves, but it’s perfectly absurd if a man can’t have a little innocent enjoyment and a couple of dances with a little bit of fluff without all this absurd fuss.

TULLY. But the hour?

JOHN. At the Club we kept it up a bit late, that’s all. We had breakfast at Jimmy Dawson’s flat and cooked bacon and eggs.

TULLY. Won’t you promise never to do such a thing again?

JOHN (crossing to L.). I’ll promise never to poach an egg in an opera hat again. I can’t possibly live without some relaxation now and then.

TULLY. But must you really go out and about with little bits of flu—flu—fluff?

JOHN. Most certainly if I want to. What have you got to say to that?

TULLY. Oh, dear, dear, dear!

JOHN. Everything would have been all right only you were so infernally stupid about the opera. I’m sure “Marguerite and plaits” was perfectly clear. If you had only said “Faust” without any hesitation everything would have been all right.

TULLY. But it’s so risky. They play a different opera every night at Covent Garden.

JOHN. I know they do. I wonder what they did play? Where’s the newspaper? (Looking round for paper—seeing paper on table R. below door—crosses over—gets paper.) Here it is. (Crosses to TULLY.) Now if my luck’s in they played “Faust” (both look at paper together) last night—here we are—theatres—last night—Covent Garden—Pictures!! (JOHN tears the paper in two—gives half to TULLY.) Here, tear that up (handing other half) and this bit too—get rid of it somehow.

(TULLY tears paper in pieces and puts bits in handkerchief pocket.)

(JOHN crosses to door R.)

TULLY. How do you think you will get out of this?

JOHN (crossing C.). Quite easily. Tact and diplomacy. (Offering his head to TULLY.) Feel that bump—they say I have a bigger bump of tact than Lloyd George.

TULLY (feeling head). Oh, I say——

(Both stand to attention as PAMELA re-enters R., wearing a hat and carrying a small suitcase—the pearl necklace is also in her hand. She crosses over to door R., not looking at either of the men and dabbing her face with a handkerchief as if crying. She stops as JOHN speaks.)

JOHN. Pam—Pam——

PAMELA (coming down to table L. and placing suitcase on table). I am going home to mother’s. You’ll hear from her later, and probably the solicitors.

JOHN. Well, Pam. I think you’re awfully silly, and after I’ve bought you a pearl necklace too.

PAMELA. I doubt very much if the necklace was intended for me.

JOHN. Oh, Tully, did you hear that? The only woman in the world I have ever loved! (Sinking into chair left of table R.C.)

TULLY (who has been standing watching very nervously by table with telephone L.C.: crosses to PAMELA). I don’t think you ought to say such things, Mrs. Ayers. (PAMELA shrugs shoulders and turns back on him. He crosses to JOHN.) Do leave us for a few moments, John—I——

JOHN (rising). But, Tully, I——

TULLY. I’ll put it all right.

JOHN. But, Tully. I——

(JOHN is persuaded to go off R. by TULLY. JOHN exits muttering—TULLY shuts door.)

TULLY (crossing to PAMELA). One moment, Mrs. Ayers. You know I feel somehow that I am to blame for all this. I don’t want to pose as a hyper-religious man, but every one says I’m very good, and I wouldn’t deceive you for the world. I’m sure that necklace was intended for you.

PAMELA (opening suitcase). Well, in any case, I value my feelings at something more than a—a—a one-and-elevenpenny pearl necklace. (Drops necklace into case and shuts it.)

TULLY. Really I think you are doing John an injustice. I don’t think you quite understand his little ways.

PAMELA. I understand as much as is fit for me to understand.

TULLY. No, really, I know John doesn’t behave in a conventional manner as a rule, but he is quite harmless.