The Brass Bottle: A Farcical Fantastic Play in Four Acts

How can you tell?

Professor Futvoye

Because he can't even take care of the little he has! Look at the money he's throwing away on this totally unnecessary dinner to-night!

Sylvia

Oh! When it's just a quiet little dinner in his own rooms! If it had been the Carlton, now!

Professor Futvoye

He proposed to entertain us at the Carlton at first – but I stopped that. It all bears out what I say – that he has absolutely no sense of the value of —

Mrs. Futvoye

[Interposing calmly.] There, Anthony, that's enough! Horace is engaged to Sylvia – and the most sensible thing we can do is to make the best of it.

Professor Futvoye

[Rising and moving to the right.] I am making the best of it, Sophia! If Ventimore was like Spencer Pringle, now! —

Sylvia

He would never have been engaged to me!

Professor Futvoye

[To Sylvia.] Pringle, my dear, is a steady, hard-working young fellow. I've a real respect and liking for Pringle. And if I must have an architect for a son-in-law, he is the man I should have preferred!

Sylvia

Why, he hasn't been near us for weeks and weeks – and I hope he means to stay away altogether! I always thought him a conceited prig.

    [Moving towards door at back.

Professor Futvoye

You may come to think differently, my dear. [Pulling out his watch.] Nearly half-past six! Tut-tut! All this time wasted! It's useless to wait any longer for Ventimore. We may just as well go!

    [He goes to get his hat and stick.

Mrs. Futvoye

[Rising.] I knew how it would be!

Sylvia

[At door.] Wait! [Opens door and listens.] There's Horace coming upstairs! I'm sure it's his step!

Professor Futvoye

[Stops by table with relief.] At last! Now I shall know!

    [Spencer Pringle enters.He is a smug, self-satisfied looking man of about thirty-five, smooth-shaven, except for small side-whiskers. He is in a light tweed suit, having just come up from the country.

Sylvia

[Repressing her disappointment.] Mr. Pringle!

Pringle

[In doorway.] Miss Sylvia! Mrs. Futvoye! [Shaking hands with the Professor.] Professor! Well! this is unexpected.

    [Sylvia comes down to right.

Professor Futvoye

[Graciously.] Glad to see you, Pringle! You are quite a stranger. Indeed, my daughter was remarking, only a little while ago, that you hadn't been near us for weeks!

Sylvia

[In an indignant undertone.] Father!

    [Mrs. Futvoye sits down again.

Pringle

[To Sylvia, flattered.] Delighted to think I've been missed! But my apparent – er – neglect has been quite unavoidable.

Sylvia

[Laughing.] So kind of you to relieve our minds, Mr. Pringle!

Pringle

[Solemnly.] I assure you it's the fact. I've been away constantly for the last two months, superintending work I'm doing in various parts of the country. [With importance.] Hardly a moment to call my own!

    [Sylvia turns with the intention of sitting down; he places a chair for her.

Professor Futvoye

[Taking chair behind table.] A busy man like you, my dear Pringle, has no need to make excuses.

Pringle

[Fetching a chair for himself.] I really have been fearfully overworked. Not that I complain of that! [As he sits down between the Professor and Sylvia.] I'd no idea we should meet here, though. Is Ventimore a friend of yours?

Professor Futvoye