The Mousetrap

ROGERS. I’ll see what I can do, sir.

BLORE. Rogers—I’ll see you won’t lose by it. Where’s my room?

ROGERS. I’ll show you, sir.

BLORE. (As they go out) Good. I can do with a wash and brush up straight away. (Exits Left 1 withROGERS.)

(Enter MRS. ROGERS Left 2. She picks up glass from sofa and from table up Left and takes them down Right. Enter ROGERS with tray of eight glasses.)

MRS. ROGERS. (She takes glasses off tray andROGERSputs on dirty ones) Oh, there you are, Rogers. You ought to clear these dirty glasses. You’re always leaving the dirty work to me. Here I am with a four-course dinner on my hands and no one to help me. You might come and give me a hand with the dishing up. (To above Left sofa) Who was it that you were talking to, by the way?

ROGERS. Davis, South African gentleman. No class if you ask me—and no money either.

MRS. ROGERS. (Comes down Right of sofa to Centre) I don’t like him—Don’t like any of ’em much. More like that bunch we had in the boarding house, I’d say.

ROGERS. Davis gives out he’s a millionaire or something. You should see his underwear! Cheap as they make ’em.

MRS. ROGERS. Well, as I said, it’s not treating us right. All these visitors arriving today and the maids not coming till tomorrow. What do they think we are?

ROGERS. Now, then—Anyway, the money’s good.

MRS. ROGERS. So it ought to be! Catch me going into service again unless the money was good.

ROGERS. (To Centre) Well, it is good, so what are you going on about?

MRS. ROGERS. Well, I can tell you this, Rogers. I’m not staying anywhere I’m put upon. Cooking’s my business! I’m a good cook—

ROGERS. (Placating her) First rate, old girl.

MRS. ROGERS. But the kitchen’s my place and housework’s none of my business. All these guests! I’ve a good mind to put my hat and coat on and walk out now and go straight back to Plymouth.

ROGERS. (Grinning) You can’t do that, old girl.

MRS. ROGERS. (Belligerently) Who says I can’t? Why not, I should like to know?

ROGERS. Because you’re on an island, old girl. Had you forgotten that?

MRS. ROGERS. Yes, and I don’t know as I fancy being on an island.

ROGERS. Don’t know that I do, either, come to that. No slipping down to a pub, or going to the pictures. Oh, well, it’s double wages on account of the difficulties. And there’s plenty of beer in the house.

MRS. ROGERS. That’s all you ever think about—beer.

ROGERS. Now, now, stop your nagging. You get back to the kitchen or your dinner will be spoilt.

MRS. ROGERS. It’ll be spoilt anyway, I expect. Everybody’s going to be late. Wasted on them, anyway. Thank goodness I didn’t make a soufflé. (Enter VERA Left 1. MRS. ROGERS goes to Left 2 door.) Oh, dinner won’t be a minute, Miss. Just a question of dishing up. (Exits Left 2.)

VERA. (To above Left sofa) Is everything all right, Rogers? Can you manage between the two of you?

ROGERS. (Crossing up Left) Yes, thank you, Miss. The Missus talks a lot, but she gets it done. (Exits Left 2.)

(VERA goes to Right window. EMILY enters Left 1, having changed.)

VERA. What a lovely evening!

EMILY. Yes, indeed. The weather seems very settled. (To Centre window.)

VERA. (Comes down Right) How plainly one can hear the sea.

EMILY. A pleasant sound. (Comes down Centre.)

VERA. Hardly a breath of wind—and deliciously warm. Not like England at all.

EMILY. I should have thought you might feel a little uncomfortable in that dress.

VERA. (Not taking the point) Oh, no.

EMILY. (Nastily) It’s rather tight, isn’t it?

VERA. (Good-humoured) Oh, I don’t think so.

EMILY. (Sits Left sofa; takes out grey knitting) You’ll excuse me, my dear, but you’re a young girl and you’ve got your living to earn—

VERA. Yes?

EMILY. A well-bred woman doesn’t like her secretary to appear flashy. It looks, you know, as though you were trying to attract the attention of the opposite sex.

VERA. (Coming to Right Centre) And would you say I do attract them?

EMILY. That’s beside the point. A girl who deliberately sets out to get the attention of men won’t be likely to keep her job long.

VERA. (Laughing at her) Ah! Surely that depends on who she’s working for?

EMILY. Really, Miss Claythorne!