George Bernard Shaw a penn State Electronic Classics Series Publication

the tea-tray].
LADY UTTERWORD 
[sitting down with a flounce on the
sofa]. I know what you must feel. Oh, this house, this house!
I come back to it after twenty-three years; and it is just the
same: the luggage lying on the steps, the servants spoilt and
impossible, nobody at home to receive anybody, no regular
meals, nobody ever hungry because they are always gnawing
bread and butter or munching apples, and, what is worse,
the same disorder in ideas, in talk, in feeling. When I was a
child I was used to it: I had never known anything better,
though I was unhappy, and longed all the time—oh, how I
longed!—to be respectable, to be a lady, to live as others did,
not to have to think of everything for myself. I married at
nineteen to escape from it. My husband is Sir Hastings
Utterword, who has been governor of all the crown colonies
in succession. I have always been the mistress of Govern-
ment House. I have been so happy: I had forgotten that
people could live like this. I wanted to see my father, my
sister, my nephews and nieces (one ought to, you know),
and I was looking forward to it. And now the state of the
house! the way I’m received! the casual impudence of that
woman Guinness, our old nurse! really Hesione might at
least have been here: some preparation might have been made
for me. You must excuse my going on in this way; but I am
really very much hurt and annoyed and disillusioned: and if
I had realized it was to be like this, I wouldn’t have come. I
have a great mind to go away without another word [she is
on the point of weeping].
ELLIE 
[also very miserable]. Nobody has been here to receive
me either. I thought I ought to go away too. But how can I,
Lady Utterword? My luggage is on the steps; and the station
fly has gone.
The captain emerges from the pantry with a tray of Chinese
lacquer and a very fine tea-set on it. He rests it provisionally on
the end of the table; snatches away the drawing-board, which
he stands on the floor against table legs; and puts the tray in the
space thus cleared. Ellie pours out a cup greedily.
THE CAPTAIN
. Your tea, young lady. What! another lady!
I must fetch another cup [he makes for the pantry].
LADY UTTERWORD 
[rising from the sofa, suffused with
emotion]. Papa! Don’t you know me? I’m your daughter.
THE CAPTAIN
. Nonsense! my daughter’s upstairs asleep.

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44
Heartbreak House
[He vanishes through the half door].
Lady Utterword retires to the window to conceal her tears.
ELLIE 
[going to her with the cup]. Don’t be so distressed.
Have this cup of tea. He is very old and very strange: he has
been just like that to me. I know how dreadful it must be:
my own father is all the world to me. Oh, I’m sure he didn’t
mean it.
The captain returns with another cup.
THE CAPTAIN
. Now we are complete. [He places it on the
tray].
LADY UTTERWORD 
[hysterically]. Papa, you can’t have
forgotten me. I am Ariadne. I’m little Paddy Patkins. Won’t
you kiss me? [She goes to him and throws her arms round his
neck].
THE CAPTAIN 
[woodenly enduring her embrace]. How can
you be Ariadne? You are a middle-aged woman: well pre-
served, madam, but no longer young.
LADY UTTERWORD
. But think of all the years and years
I have been away, Papa. I have had to grow old, like other
people.
THE CAPTAIN 
[disengaging himself]. You should grow out
of kissing strange men: they may be striving to attain the
seventh degree of concentration.
LADY UTTERWORD
. But I’m your daughter. You haven’t
seen me for years.
THE CAPTAIN
. So much the worse! When our relatives
are at home, we have to think of all their good points or it
would be impossible to endure them. But when they are away,
we console ourselves for their absence by dwelling on their
vices. That is how I have come to think my absent daughter
Ariadne a perfect fiend; so do not try to ingratiate yourself
here by impersonating her [he walks firmly away to the other