FREEZING A MOTHER-IN-LAW
OR
SUSPENDED ANIMATION

A Farce in One Act

BY

T. E. PEMBERTON

CHARACTERS.

Costumes.—Modern and appropriate.

FREEZING A MOTHER-IN-LAW.

Scene.—Mr. Watmuff's library. Entrances, R. and L. At L.C. a door opening to a cupboard. At R. table, with books and a bottle of water on it. A screen stands close to door, R. Walter Litherland and Emily Watmuff discovered.

Emily. And so we must part forever!

Walter. For the thirteenth time, my darling, I must, in reply to that remark of yours, say—I don't see why.

Emily. Ah! Walter, you do not know who rules this house.

Walter. I may be wrong, but I was always under the impression that your mother did.

Emily. Ah! then you do know. I was afraid you would think that my poor father was the master of it.

Walter. I know that the house is let to your father; but I confess, my dearest, that I have observed that he has sub-let himself to your respected mother.

Emily. And she has declared that she will never give her consent to our engagement.

Walter. But your father has given his, and that is a great point gained.

Emily. It may be a great point, but it is a very useless one. Mamma always has her own way. She pronounced her decision this morning, and when you quit the house to-day orders will be given that you are never allowed to enter it again.

Walter. Then clearly I must not quit it. I am a great believer in diplomacy, Emily. To go at the present time directly against your revered mother's will would be utterly to lose you; to lose you, my darling, would be far more than to lose my life; therefore, I have determined to humor your respected parent, until the fortunes of war give me an opportunity of ingratiating myself with her. Hush! She approaches. Now rely upon me, and in every way back me up.

(Enter Mrs. Watmuff, door L.)

Mrs. W. (glaring indignantly at Walter). Still here, sir! I thought that you had been instructed by my husband to quit these premises.

Walter. Madam, I am much to blame. That the wishes expressed, I am sure, after mature deliberation, of Mr. Watmuff and yourself, have been communicated to me, I cannot deny—and yet—I linger here.

Mrs. W. Linger no longer, sir; but obey our behest.

Walter. I am, madam, about to do so; but since this interview with my dear Emily must be my last—

Mrs. W. Your dear Emily! By what right, sir, do you speak of my daughter as your dear Emily?

Emily. Because, mamma, I have consented—

Mrs. W. How, girl! This to my face? To your chamber, miss.

Walter. Again, madam, I have to own myself in the wrong. It is your dear Emily to whom I have come to bid a long farewell.

Mrs. W. A short farewell, sir, is all that is necessary—and more than I shall allow. My domestics will have instructions to remove you, within five minutes, from this domain. What ho! there—cook and serving-maid!

(Exit Mrs. Watmuff, door L.)

Emily. Walter, surely you do not mean to give me up!

Walter. My darling, do you—can you—doubt me? I shall never give you up; but I am convinced that our only course is to temporize. Your mother is, to say the least of it, arbitrary; but does she not give me a glorious chance of proving the strength of my affection for you?

Emily. How, dearest?

Walter. I am prepared to marry you, my darling, even during her lifetime.

(Enter Mr. Watmuff, door R.)

Emily. Oh, papa, I am in sad trouble. Mamma still withholds her consent.

Mr. W. My dear child, your mother, with the exception of her tongue, has a habit of withholding everything.

Emily. And she has ordered Walter to quit the house.

Mr. W. Well, my dear, beyond a not unnatural feeling of envy for Walter, I don't feel that I can express any sentiment on the subject. I have given my consent.

Emily. But of what use is it?

Mr. W. Not much, my dear, I must own. But I thought you might derive some comfort from it.

Emily. Do you know that mamma is now giving orders to the cook and housemaid to remove poor Walter by force?

Mr. W. My dear child, it is, I must admit, an extreme measure. But what can I do?

Emily. You ought not to brook such treatment.

Mr. W. Dearest love, I don't know that I do brook it; because I never mastered the full meaning of that word. But even if I did, how can I unbrook it?

Walter. My dear sir, I think I comprehend your position better than poor Emily does; and, indeed, I have been trying to persuade her that our better plan is to yield to the storm until it has passed. We must remember the old fable of the oak and the willow.

Mr. W. It has been Mrs. Watmuff's good fortune to dwell in a perfect grove of willows since the day of her birth. I confess that I have yielded so long that I am limp with yielding.

Walter. And I mean to yield only so far as to retain strength for a final spring, and a final growth in a right and firm direction. Come, Emily, be guided by me, and I promise you all shall be well. If I remain here a moment longer I fear the storm may burst, and at present we are both too oak-like to stand it.

(Exeunt Emily and Walter, door R.)

Mr. W. That's a remarkably sanguine young man; but, then, he's at the sanguine time of life. I was sanguine myself once—remarkably sanguine; and then I married Mrs. Watmuff—or, rather, I should say, she married me. I believe