A Lover of Animals

AN ANTI-VIVISECTION PLAY IN ONE ACT¹

DRAMATIC CHARACTERS:

DR. CLAUD KERSTERMAN. Hospital surgeon; thirty-five, tall, dark, handsome, sallow, cynical.
TOM KERSTERMAN. Younger brother of the above; a sportsman; rough, thickset, awkward.
MISS MOLL. Aunt of the above; stout, dressy, fussy, loquacious.
GRACE GOODHART. Companion to Miss Moll; about twenty-five, frank, open, decisive manner.
HACKET. A butcher; bluff, ruddy, taciturn.
MRS. HACKET. Dr. Kersterman’s landlady; thin, prim, acrimonious.
PATE. Servant to Dr. Kersterman; short, deformed, eccentric-looking—wears black skull cap.

SCENE: DR. CLAUD KERSTERMAN parlour in MRS. HACKET’S lodgings. DR. KERSTERMAN is standing back to fire, while his servant PATE is clearing the table after lunch.

DR. KERSTERMAN. Pate!

PATE. Yes, sir.

DR. KERSTERMAN. Is everything ready? Have you done all I told you?

PATE. Yes, sir.

DR. KERSTERMAN. I expect these visitors almost immediately. Have you cleared up in my study?

PATE. Cleared up what, sir?

DR. KERSTERMAN. What? Why everything—instruments, specimens—all that mess—odds and ends of every sort.

PATE. Oh, yes. I did all that last night.

DR. KERSTERMAN. (after a pause). You understand, Pate, that during Miss Moll’s visit none of these things are to be mentioned? Not a word—not a syllable—about them. You understand me?

PATE. All right, sir.

KER. Miss Moll is a great lover of animals, and for the next day or two, while she’s here, we’re all to be lovers of animals. You see?

PATE. (uneasily). If I might ask the question, sir, what is a lover of animals?

DR. KERSTERMAN. Ah, there you have it, Pate! Well, I suppose it’s a person who spends a lifetime on pampering cats and lap-dogs.

PATE. I suspect, sir, a lover of animals is much the same as them anti-vivisectionists I’ve heard tell of?

DR. KERSTERMAN. (half-aside).That’s it. One of the old women who shriek if you prick a rabbit with a needle to save a man’s life.

PATE. (going). Ah, if they only knew how my life was saved!

DR. KERSTERMAN. Yes, Pate. I couldn’t have done it if I’d had to think of lap-dogs and rabbits. Just ask Mrs. Hacket to step up here a moment, will you?

[Exit PATE.]

DR. KERSTERMAN. (looking after him). Now I do hope the fellow’s confounded head won’t give way while they’re here. It’ll be a pretty business if he blabs out something to the old woman; or to the young one either, for that matter. (A knock.) Come in!

Enter MRS. HACKET.

DR. KERSTERMAN. Good afternoon, Mrs. Hacket. I wanted to be quite sure that everything’s ready for these ladies. I expect them every minute now.

MRS. HACKET. Yes, Dr Kersterman, I shall be able to make them comfortable for the night, I hope. There are two of them, I believe?

DR. KERSTERMAN. Yes; Miss Moll (my aunt), and a Miss Goodhart, who lives with her and acts as “companion.” Oh, ah, yes, and there’s Prince. I forgot to mention him, though he’s about the chief member of the party. He’s Miss Moll’s lap-dog, you know. She writes that she’ll probably bring Prince, and perhaps her cat, Selina.

MRS. HACKET. (with asperity). Now, Dr. Kersterman, sir, you must excuse my saying that I ought to have heard of this before. It’s all against my rules to take in cats or dogs. Nasty dirty things, they bring fleas into the house, and spoil the chairs and furniture.

DR. KERSTERMAN. Come, come, Mrs. Hacket, be a good soul, and make an exception this time. I have most particular reasons for wishing Miss Moll’s visit to go off pleasantly, and as she’s a great lover of animals, I want her to feel that we’re all lovers of animals here. It’s only for a couple of days, you see. The fact is, as I hinted to you before, she’s a well-to-do-lady, and I’m expecting a large allowance from her shortly—she’s coming to talk of business matters to-day—but it will be useless to hope for a penny of her money unless her cat and dog have a royal reception. It bears on the question of my rent, you see And this reminds me of something important. I am most anxious that neither my aunt nor her companion should hear a word about—my professional duties, you know—what I do in the interests of scientific research.

MRS. HACKET. I’d been meaning to speak to you about that, Dr. Kersterman. There have been more complaints of late. I do wish you’d keep that nasty work for your laboratory, and not bring odd jobs of it here. Those frogs—

DR. KERSTERMAN. More complaints, indeed! And pray, who have complained now? I’d have them know I’ve got my licence, and can do what I like.

MRS. HACKET. The neighbours talk, Dr. Kersterman. And Hacket don’t like it, no more than I do. Poor things; it does seem shameful cruel to use them in that fashion.

DR. KERSTERMAN. (sneering). Ah, Hacket’s business makes him so fond of animals, of course. All the same, you’d better not tell Miss Moll that he’s a butcher. She’s one of those who enjoy their cutlet without asking questions about where it comes from.

MRS. HACKET. (angrily). You may joke sir, but there’s no more merciful man living than Hacket; and I’d have you know an honest butcher’s as good as any scientific gentleman of your sort. Leastways he pays his debts, he does, and doesn’t go trying to get other people’s money by pretending to be a lover of animals, and what not! Prince, indeed! Bringing beastly lap-dogs to this house, while your rent’s owing for more than three-quarters!

DR. KERSTERMAN. But, my good woman, it’s just this visit of Miss Moll’s that will enable me to pay my rent.

MRS. HACKET. (emphatically). I say to Hacket—

[Loud knocking. Exit MRS. HACKET, hurriedly.]

DR. KERSTERMAN. (grimly). They’ve come. Now for aunts, companions, cats, lap-dogs, and love of animals. It won’t kill me for a couple of days, perhaps. Thank God, that scamp Tom’s away. I’ll steal a march on him, anyhow.

Enter MISS MOLL, ceremoniously ushered in by PATE and MRS. HACKET. She is much dressed, and wears a large plume in her hat. She is followed by GRACE GOODHART, who is carrying a dog-basket.

MISS MOLL. Well, Claud, dear boy, here we are at last! So glad to see you again! Here’s Prince, you see. He’s sneezed several times on the journey, and I fear he’s caught a cold, but you’ll prescribe for him, won’t you? That’ll be quite in your line, helping dumb animals. And Miss Goodhart—I mustn’t forget her—you’ve seen her before haven’t you, Claud?

DR. KERSTERMAN. Oh, yes, Aunt. Miss Goodhart and I are old acquaintances (they shake hands). But come; you must be tired. Mrs. Hacket will show you and Miss Goodhart your rooms, and then we will see what can be done for Prince. And Selina—where’s Selina, aunt?

MISS MOLL. (gravely). I am sorry to say, Claud, that I’ve not been able to bring Selina, as I intended. I know you would have liked to have her here. But she had a bad attack of indigestion this morning, and could not possibly travel.

DR. KERSTERMAN. (sympathetically). Indeed, Aunt Moll, that’s a great disappointment, both to Mrs. Hacket and myself.

MRS. HACKET. (eruptively). I must beg, sir, —

DR. KERSTERMAN. Mrs. Hacket, will you show these ladies to their rooms?

[Exeunt MRS. HACKET, MISS MOLL, and MRS. GOODHART.]

PATE. (advancing confidentially). May I enquire, sir, is the young lady also a lover of animals?

DR. KERSTERMAN. (impatiently). Yes, yes, I suppose so. I told you we’re all lovers of animals—for the next day or two. Now, don’t forget my instructions, or say anything before Miss Moll about—you know what I mean—my professional studies.

[Exit PATE.]

Re-enter MISS MOLL, without cloak and hat.

MISS MOLL. I think it will be best, Claud, if you and I have our talk now, at once, while Grace is unpacking the bags and making Prince comfortable. What a strange-looking servant you have, Claud! Why does he wear that skull-cap?

DR. KERSTERMAN. Oh, he’s an odd little chap whose life I saved by an operation at the hospital. Trepanned him, you know, and it left him a bit queer in the head at times. He was very grateful; and as he’d got nothing to do, I took him as a sort of man-of-all-work. He’s very useful to me, though not ornamental, certainly.

MISS MOLL. Just like you, Claud! always doing good to somebody. It makes me feel more sure than ever that I’m right in my choice. You’ve thought over the idea since you had my letter?

DR. KERSTERMAN. Yes, thanks, Aunt Moll. I think I can undertake the post, if you decide to establish the Home. But, of course, all the details have got to be thought out carefully.

MISS MOLL. The first thing is to get the general idea settled. It has been the wish of my life to establish a Domestic Pets Convalescent Home, and I have set apart a special sum for that purpose; but the difficulty is to find a thoroughly reliable physician to put at the head of it (dropping her voice and drawing closer to him). I’m so terribly afraid, Claud, of these inhuman, devilish vivisectors. It seems that they—

PATE. If you please, sir, the gamekeeper’s sent to know (stops in confusion) if you’ll want another—rabbit—

DR. KERSTERMAN. (angrily). The gamekeeper? No, no, you idiot. The game-dealer, you mean. Tell him I want nothing. (Exit PATE). You were just saying Aunt Moll—

MISS MOLL. I was saying, Claud, that I must take all possible precautions to guard my Domestic Pets Convalescent Home from those vivisecting ruffians, and that is one reason why I want to give you the post. Not only because you are my favourite nephew, but because you are so enthusiastic a lover of animals. (Ker. bows). My offer is this. To make you visiting physician at the Home, with a salary of £500 a year. If all goes well, I shall leave you all my money when I die. Now what do you say to this, Claud? If agreed so far, we can discuss details afterwards.

DR. KERSTERMAN. What can I say, dear Aunt Moll, except to thank you from my heart for the generous—munificent—offer? I am at your service, of course; but I must warn you that on such terms you could get many a better man than myself.

MISS MOLL. (dotingly). Your modesty, Claud; you were always so modest—so unlike your brother Tom.—By the by, where is Tom at present?

DR. KERSTERMAN. Oh, he’s away in the country, Aunt, for a day or two. Rabbit-shooting, I believe.

MISS MOLL. (severely). Ah, rabbit-shooting. If Tom has become cruel, as well as idle, I confess I don’t regret missing him. It is strange that two brothers should be so unlike as you and Tom. I should be sorry to trust an animal of mine to his tender mercies! Without going so far as Grace goes, I do think this sport, as they call it, is horribly barbarous.

DR. KERSTERMAN. And how far does Miss Goodhart go, Aunt Moll?

MISS MOLL. That’s rather a sore point between Miss Goodhart and myself; in fact, I don’t think I can keep her with me much longer. It seems to me she injures a good cause by being so extreme. Also she’s no right, while she’s in my service, to air her fads at my expense. She takes up with all sorts of wild theories; has been a Vegetarian (with a laugh) for two years, and declares it suits her admirably!

DR. KERSTERMAN. Well, she doesn’t look anything worse, certainly. I suppose she means to do the thing thoroughly; she was always a very logical young person, I remember.

MISS MOLL. She has ideas, Claud; and women have no business to have ideas. I tell her that Vegetarianism is not scriptural; but she won’t attend to me in the least. Now, couldn’t you, as a medical man, Claud, just show her the impossibility of such a diet? It might save me from having to get rid of her; and she’s useful to me in many ways. Both Prince and Selina are fond of her, too.

DR. KERSTERMAN. Well, Aunt, of course I could demonstrate the impossibility of being a Vegetarian; but if she already is one, I’m afraid it wouldn’t have much effect. These unscientific people are so confoundedly obstinate, you see.

MISS MOLL. She’s as obstinate as—

Enter GRACE GOODHART.

Ah, Miss Goodhart, I was just telling Dr. Kersterman how fond you are of Prince!

GRACE. I came down to say that everything’s settled in your room. Prince has gone to sleep in the big velvet armchair.

MISS MOLL. The darling little creature! I’ll go and sit with him a while. Did you give him the cold wing of chicken?

GRACE. No. He’s had a lot to eat to-day. I thought he’d be better without more.

MISS MOLL. Nonsense, Grace; the dog must have what he wants. He’s not a Vegetarian, please remember.

[Exit MISS MOLL.]

DR. KERSTERMAN. (after a pause). I’m glad to hear that Prince is so comfortable, Miss Goodhart.

GRACE. Does your landlady like having dogs in her best chair, Dr. Kersterman?

DR. KERSTERMAN. She’ll be delighted, I’m sure. She’s as much a lover of animals as I am.

GRACE. But I don’t know how much that is, Dr. Kersterman. I can’t recollect that when I knew you some years ago you were very ardent in the cause.

DR. KERSTERMAN. We live and learn, Miss Goodhart. May I ask what is your own position on this subject of the rights of animals?

GRACE. My position is a simple one. I am Miss Moll’s companion. I am lady-in-waiting to Miss Moll, Prince, and Selina.

DR. KERSTERMAN. But I understand from my aunt that your views are more advanced than hers—in fact, that you are a Vegetarian. Isn’t that going rather far?

GRACE. Far? For a lover of animals, do you mean?

DR. KERSTERMAN. Yes. Surely you could be a lover of animals without being an ascetic?

GRACE. Then you would show your love of animals by killing and eating them? Well, that’s love of a certain kind, perhaps, but rather a curious kind, I should say. Cupboard love, I should call it, rather!

DR. KERSTERMAN. But I observe that my aunt has no objection to her beef and mutton. Isn’t she a shining light in the cause? You don’t deny that she’s a genuine lover of animals, I suppose?

GRACE. Being Miss Moll’s salaried attendant, I can’t well criticise her, can I?

DR. KERSTERMAN. Oh, between friends, you know. Besides, as I’m to be visiting physician to her Domestic Pets Convalescent Home, I’m in a similar difficulty.

Enter PATE.

PATE. If you please, sir, the lady upstairs would be glad if you’d go to see the little dog. He wants physic, she says.

DR. KERSTERMAN. Ah—Prince. I’d forgotten him. (To Miss Goodhart.) Excuse me for a minute or two. A foretaste of my professional duties, you see. (To Pate.) Pate, bring a chair up to the fire for Miss Goodhart.

[Exit DR. KERSTERMAN.]

PATE. (ceremoniously adjusting the chair). Excuse me, Miss, but may I make bold to ask, are you a lover of animals, like the other lady?

GRACE. Oh, yes, I suppose so, Mr. Pate. We’re all lovers of animals in this house, are we not?

PATE. (knowingly). Yes, Miss. We’re all lovers of animals—for the next day or two. Those are Dr. Kersterman’s instructions.

GRACE. (surprised). For the next day or two? I don’t quite see what you mean by that.

PATE. (mysteriously). Now if those anti-vivisectionists—hope you’re not one, Miss—only knew how my life was saved!

GRACE. (interested). Ah! and how was your life saved, Mr. Pate?

PATE. (pointing to his skull-cap). You must ask Dr. Kersterman about that. He did it. And what I say, is how would Dr. Kersterman have had the needful knowledge, if he’d had to think of rabbits and lap-dogs, and hadn’t been able to try a trick or two aforehand? No anti-vivisection humbug for me, Miss! I’ve undergone an operation myself, and am all the better for it.

[Exit triumphantly.]

GRACE. This is terrible. I must speak to Claud. He’s playing a darker game than I suspected. Convalescent Home, indeed. A nice sort of convalescence his domestic pets will have, if this is true.

Enter DR. KERSTERMAN.

DR. KERSTERMAN. Well, I can give a good report of our little patient. I’ve diagnosed his case, and was able to promise a speedy recovery. You can imagine his mistress’s relief at the favourable verdict! We were just talking of my aunt, weren’t we? You don’t think much of her as a lover of animals, I fancy. (A pause.) Is anything the matter?

GRACE. Dr. Kersterman—are you—a vivisector?

DR. KERSTERMAN. (after a pause, savagely). How dare you ask me that question? Is this your position that you spoke of, as my aunt’s companion?

GRACE. I have a right to ask that question of the visiting physician of the Domestic Pets Convalescent Home.

DR. KERSTERMAN. You have no right to come between my aunt and myself on a private family matter. But perhaps you’ve some little plan of your own for the disposal of her money? (Changing suddenly.) Forgive me, Grace. I lost my temper for the moment. It would be mad of us to quarrel. Our interests are identical.

GRACE. Our interests are very far apart, Dr. Kersterman, if what I suspect be true.

DR. KERSTERMAN. When you spoke, I was on the point of returning to that talk we had years ago, the year I first met you at my aunt’s house.

GRACE. It is useless to go back to that, Claud. I distrusted you even then; and now!

DR. KERSTERMAN. You rejected me then, with some reason perhaps, as a raw young doctor with neither name nor money. Surely you will not reject me now—now that I have secured my aunt’s favour, and shall be able to offer you a home?

GRACE. A home? The Convalescent Home, Claud? No, thank you! I will not be a domestic pet.

DR. KERSTERMAN. Are you jesting? You cannot mean to let your insane humanitarian ideas stand in the way of our advancement?

GRACE. Will you please answer my question, Dr. Kersterman. Are you?

Enter MISS MOLL, excitedly.

MISS MOLL. Grace, come quickly! I want your help at once. Claud, you must prescribe again, please.

DR. KERSTERMAN. (in a moment of supreme forgetfulness). Oh, damn Prince!

MISS MOLL. Claud! Dr. Kersterman! Are you drunk, sir? Have you learnt your brother Tom’s language?

DR. KERSTERMAN. Pardon me, Aunt Moll. I was worried about something else. I spoke without reflection.

MISS MOLL. (majestically). Miss Goodhart, we will leave this gentleman—to reflect.

[Exeunt MISS MOLL and GRACE.]

Enter MRS. HACKET, followed by PATE.

MRS. HACKET. Dr. Kersterman, something must be done at once about that beastly little dog, if your friends want to stay the night. He’s spoilt the best velvet armchair, what belonged to Hacket’s grandfather. I declare that I’ll get Hacket to pole-axe him if you don’t have him removed.

DR. KERSTERMAN. (in desperation). Oh pole-axe the whole lot of them, by all means! Plague them all! I can stand it no longer. (To Pate.) You’ll find me at the laboratory if I’m wanted.

[Exit furiously.]

MRS. HACKET. (open-mouthed). What ever ails your master, Pate? He’s gone off like an escaped bullock down a back alley, as Hacket would say.

PATE. It’s this love of animals business, I’ll bet, Mrs. Hacket. The course of true love never did run smooth, I’ve heard.

MRS. HACKET. Dr. Kersterman’s love of animals don’t exactly strike one as true love, either. The old lady’s found him out, may be. Did you tell her anything, Pate?

PATE. Not I; trust me. I had my instructions from the master.

MRS. HACKET. Or the young lady? You told her, perhaps how Dr. Kersterman saved your life, and all the rest of that twaddling tale of yours?

PATE. (confused). Eh, well? And what if I did, Mrs. Hacket? What then, eh?

MRS. HACKET. Oh, nothing—except that Kersterman’s lost his allowance, and I’ve lost my rent. That’s all, you idiot.

[Exit MRS. HACKET.]

PATE. (standing dazed). Now, Lord bless me, if this love of animals ain’t the cussedest thing out. We’re all at loggerheads after scarce an hour of it, and a whole day more to run. It’ll be the death of us all afore we’ve finished with it. (A knock.) Another caller! Who’s the next lover of animals, I wonder?

Enter TOM KERSTERMAN in shooting costume.

TOM KERSTERMAN. So Dr. Kersterman’s not at home?

PATE. No sir. He’s at the laboratory. The ladies are upstairs, sir, with the little dog.

TOM KERSTERMAN. Ladies? With the little dog? What the devil do you mean, Pate? Does Claud have lady students here, to watch his—

PATE. Miss Moll is here, sir, with her lapdog, Prince. We’re all lover of animals during her visit. Dr Kersterman’s instructions, sir.

TOM KERSTERMAN. Whew! So that’s the doctor’s little game, is it? I’ve dropped in at the nick of time, it seems, for a nice little family meeting. Miss Goodhart here too, Pate?

PATE. There’s a young lady, sir, who carries the little dog, and looks after him when he’s sick.

TOM KERSTERMAN. I thought so. You needn’t stay, Pate. And don’t fetch your master just yet. I’ll sit here till the ladies come down.

PATE. (opening the door). Here they are, sir.

Enter MISS MOLL and GRACE.

[Exit PATE.]

TOM KERSTERMAN. Good afternoon, Aunt Moll. I’ve just looked in on my way home, to see Claud, and find you instead. Shot at the pigeon, you see, and hit—An unexpected pleasure, I mean. Glad to see you, Miss Goodhart.

MISS MOLL. (haughtily). Good day, Tom. You’ve been killing rabbits, I believe. Don’t offer me your hand. There might be blood on it. (grace shakes hands with Tom Kersterman.) Miss Goodhart, it appears, is not afraid of such contact.

GRACE. I have been washing Prince, Miss Moll. If you were to do that yourself, other things might seem easier.

MISS MOLL. (severely).I hope to release you from that duty, Miss Goodhart, at an early date. (To Tom Kersterman.) You must excuse my not appreciating your sporting instincts, Tom. I am a lover of animals, and am here to-day on a merciful errand—to appoint your brother, Dr. Kersterman, who fully shares my feelings, visiting physician to my Domestic Pets Convalescent Home. You would hardly understand our objects, I fear.

TOM KERSTERMAN. (bluntly). Well, Aunt, I understand Claud’s objects plain enough. He has made a fool of you this time, and no mistake!

MISS MOLL. You are impertinent, sir. If you have nothing more sensible to say, you had better leave us. I am sorry that a nephew of mine should stoop to killing animals for sport.

TOM KERSTERMAN. I don’t cut ‘em up alive, Aunt, at any rate.

MISS MOLL. (distantly). Who does, Tom? Who does?

TOM KERSTERMAN. Oh, lots of people. The visiting physician to the Domestic Pets Convalescent Home, for one.

MISS MOLL. (in consternation—after a pause). You shall be called to account for this, sir! You accuse your brother of being a vivisector! Shameful!

TOM KERSTERMAN. Ask Pate—ask the landlady—

MISS MOLL. (ringing). I will, sir.

Enter PATE.

Where is Dr. Kersterman?

PATE. At the laboratory, ma’am. I was to fetch him if wanted.

MISS MOLL. First answer me a question, Pate; and think well before speaking. Is your master—Dr. Kersterman—a vivisector?

PATE. (in ruinous confusion). Not—not—not for the next day or two, ma’am. We’re all lovers of animals, while you’re here, ma’am. Dr. Kersterman’s instructions, ma’am.

MISS MOLL. That is quite enough, Pate. Fetch Dr. Kersterman at once; and tell Mrs. Hacket to come here.

[Exit PATE.]

(To Grace.) Did you know this Miss Goodhart?

GRACE. I suspected it, for the first time, this afernoon.

MISS MOLL. And did not tell me at once?

GRACE. I was going to question Claud myself. You called me away to attend to Prince before I could learn the truth.

MISS MOLL. Claud indeed! So that was the pleasant tête-à-tête I interrupted! I seem to have been pretty well fooled all around!

TOM KERSTERMAN. (eagerly). That’s just what I was saying, Aunt, when you called me impertinent.

MISS MOLL. Hold your tongue, Tom. (MRS. HACKET enters.) Mrs. Hacket, I must ask you a question about my nephew, Dr. Kersterman. Do you know if he is—a vivisector?

MRS. HACKET. Good gracious, ma’am, what a question! I know nothing of my lodger’s professional studies, ma’am. All I know is that Dr. Kersterman is a good deal behind with his rent, and that the armchair upstairs, what belonged to Hacket’s grandfather, will have to be paid for. Hadn’t you best ask Dr. Kersterman himself? I hear him coming.

TOM KERSTERMAN. My eye! We’re in for a fine shindy now!

Enter DR. KERSTERMAN, followed by PATE.

DR. KERSTERMAN. (after a pause—looking round defiantly). All waiting for me, I see. You do me too much honour. Very good of you to look in, Tom. I owe this pleasant gathering to you, no doubt.

MISS MOLL. Your brother has made a statement, Claud, which I trust you will instantly contradict. You must admit that, before appoiting you visiting physician to my Domestic Pets Convalescent Home, I am bound to ask whether you practise—I am almost ashamed to speak the word—whether you practise vivisection.

DR. KERSTERMAN. I will not be catechised and bullied like this. How much do any of you know of what you call vivisection? As a scientist I use the approved methods of science.

TOM KERSTERMAN. Such as playing the lover of animals before Aunt Moll, for instance?

DR. KERSTERMAN. If you’re insolent, Tom, I’ll throw you out of the window. Precious lies you’ve been telling about me in my absence, it seems!

TOM KERSTERMAN. (advancing angrily) .And what lies had you been telling Aunt Moll in my absence? She treated me like a red-handed murderer when she came in.

DR. KERSTERMAN. Well, now you’ve turned informant, Tom, you’ve earned your rewad. Hope you’ve made good terms with Aunt Moll.

TOM KERSTERMAN. Liar! (They come to blows).

MISS MOLL. Help! thieves! murder! (To Mrs. Hacket.). Call your husband, woman! Fetch the policeman, Pate! Save Prince, Grace, quick!

MRS. HACKET. (running to the door). Hacket, Hacket! Come up at once! Just as you are—in your killing clothes—anyhow!

Enter HACKET, in blue smock, bare armed.

HACKET. (placing himself between the combatants). Now, which of you two gentlemen wants to be stuck like a pig? Who speaks first?

MISS MOLL. What’s this? A butcher! So you’ve brought me to a slaughter-house, Claud, as well as a den of vivisection! Grace, let us go at once. How horrible! A butcher!

MRS. HACKET. Slaughter-house indeed! when Hacket does all his killing off the premises, quite respectable, at his shop! I’m sure our doors open for you to step out, ma’am, whenever you choose.

MISS MOLL. We will leave your house, madam, immediately. Have you anything to say, Claud, before we go?

DR. KERSTERMAN. (recovering himself). This is ridiculous. Hands off, Tom! All right Hacket! Your pardon, Aunt Moll, for this blackguardly scene. (After a pause.) Yes, yes—if you must pry into my private affairs, I am what you call a vivisector—that’s to say, I am devoting—what knowledge and skill I possess to the good of my fellow creatures. As you ask for plain speaking, Aunt Moll, I tell you that this old-womanish crusade against science is mere maudlin sentiment. As Owen said, you are bestiarians, not humanitarians at all. Are you aware that the great modern surgical discoveries are due to experiments on animals?

MISS MOLL. After calling me a bestiarian, Claud, you can hardly suppose that I shall argue with you further.

PATE. (coming forward). Now, if you only knew, ma’am, how my life was saved—

DR. KERSTERMAN. Well, take Pate’s case, for instance—

MRS. HACKET. Oh, come, Dr. Kersterman, the less said about that poor creature, the better! All the neighbours know that his head was cut open for the sake of the students of the hospital, and not for his own benefit at all. And he’s been an idiot ever since.

DR. KERSTERMAN. (ignoring her). But if you must needs preach this gospel of kindness to animals, why begin with vivisection? What of sport? Tom can tell you how the noble sportsman wounds thousands of wretched animals, left crawling and fluttering in the brushwood—and all for mere pleasure, mark you—not for knowledge, or any real profit to mankind. Yet you mildly lecture the sportsman, while you treat the scientist as a pariah.

TOM KERSTERMAN. That’s all very fine, Claud; but you know sport makes us manly. What would Englishmen be without their national field-sports?

DR. KERSTERMAN. Yes, you’re a fine specimen, ain’t you, of the manliness of rabbit shooting. Then again, Aunt, I don’t quite see where your own love of animals comes in. You eat them, don’t you? And your butcher, like our friend Hacket here, causes more pain than a hundred operators on animals.

HACKET. Dr. Kersterman, sir, I’m a plain working man, but if it’s love o’ animals you’re talking about, I yield to none. ‘T was because I was so fond of ‘em as a lad, and liked to have ‘em round me, that I took to the butchering trade. I’m never so content as when I’m in full swing o’ business, and up to my ankles in blood. But I’ll say this, though I earn a livelihood by killing animals, I wouldn’t torture ‘em as you do, not for all the wealth o’ carcases in Smithfield.

MISS MOLL. (sarcastically).So you’re a convert to Vegetarian ideas, Claud! (Looking at G.) I can guess where you got them from. And, perhaps, you agree with Dr. Kersterman, Grace, as to the benefits of Vivisection? Extremes meet, you know.

GRACE. Your quarrel with your nephew, Miss Moll, is no affair of mine. But as you’ve dragged me into this discussion, I shall say what I think. I abominate Vivisection as the most horrible of crimes—the more horrible just because it is done, as Dr. kersterman says, deliberately and coscientiously (we must grant him that), and not from mere throughtlessness, like sport. But if we are to fight Vivisection, we must rid ourselves of this false love of animals, this pampering of pets and lap-dogs by people who care nothing for the real welfare of animals, or even for the welfare of men. Humanitarianism must show that it is not bestiarian, and must aim at the redress of all needless suffering, human and animal alike—the stupid cruelties of social tyranny, of the criminal code, of fashion, of science, of flesh-eating. There! I have said my say; and now it only remains for me to take my departure and go.

MISS MOLL. Take your departure. Miss Goodhart! And how are Prince and I to get home, pray?

GRACE. I will see you and Prince home, Miss Moll, but we part company at your door.

MISS MOLL. Well, of all bumptious hussies, commend me to the forward young woman who has ideas. Good-bye, Claud; I’m going to pack up and be off. I trust you will seek forgiveness where it is to be found. Of course I shall cancel all the arrangements that we talked of—for the Domestic Pets Convalescent Home.

DR. KERSTERMAN. Good-bye, Aunt. I wish you and your domestic pets all happiness. Hope you’ll find Selina in better health.

[Exit MISS MOLL.]

TOM KERSTERMAN. (coming forward). I’m going, Claud. We can talk this over another time. Now the old lady’s off, we can afford to laugh a bit, can’t we? It’s clear you and I are in the same boat, as far as love of animals is concerned! Sorry to have caused this infernal row to-day. Good afternoon, Miss Goodhart.

DR. KERSTERMAN. All right, old chap. We’ll get along somehow.

[Exit TOM KERSTERMAN.]

MRS. HACKET. (after whispering with Hacket). After what’s happened to-day, Dr. Kersterman, we must give you a week’s notice. The rent will have to be paid before you go, of course. And there’s that chair what belonged to—

DR. KERSTERMAN. Oh, of course, Mrs. Hacket. I’ll sell my books if necessary. Leave me now.

MRS. HACKET. (going). Ah! your hands are empty, and your mouth full of promises—as usual!

[Exeunt HACKET, and MRS. HACKET.]

GRACE. Good-bye, Dr. Kersterman. I’d like you to know that I, at any rate, don’t look on you as a pariah, though I do think you are fatally wrong, heart and mind, in the course you’ve taken up. We are not likely ever to meet again. I’m sorry I came to-day.

DR. KERSTERMAN. Good-bye, Miss Goodhart. All my plans are broken; and you’ve lost your position, I fear, with Aunt Moll. What will you do when your duties to the lap-dog are concluded?

GRACE. Oh, I shall find out a path for myself somewhere. Miss Moll and I were bound to part company before long, and its as well the time has come quickly, the new ideas and the old cant work forever in company. Now we shall all know where we stand.

MISS MOLL. (from the doorway). Miss Goodhart! Grace! Come and help me to pack!

[Exit G.]

DR. KERSTERMAN. (after a pause). Well, Pate, and what do you think of today’s doings? Fine thing to be a lover of animals, isn’t it?

PATE. (confidentially). Might I ask, is it necessary, sir, to be a lover of animals any longer?

KER. No. It’s all over now, Pate. The old lady’s been too much for us. Game’s up.

PATE. (ruefully). Ah, if only those anti-vivisectionists knew how my life was saved!

[Exit PATE.]

DR. KERSTERMAN. (alone). So it seems there is just one person left who believes in me. And he is half-witted.

[CURTAIN]