The Best Man

He Who Marries Last Marries Best

NIB

THE scene is an obscure room in a country house at which a party has assembled for the nuptials of ANNETTE and ARTHUR. Time, morning, a half hour before the wedding. Enter THEODORE, the best man, followed by NED and DICK, ushers. Poor THEODORE seems very much of a wreck—no, it isn't what you think at all. There wasn't any bachelor dinner.

THEODORE (sinking on the sofa with a hollow groan): All I've got to say is that the next time Arthur Ellis or anybody else gets married, he'll have to look out for another best man. I'm finished. (He gazes about him uneasily.) Any chance of 'em tracking us here?

NED: NO fear. I've told everybody that you were locked in the billiard room putting Arthur through the responses for the finals. Arthur's so upset that he will probably go up in his lines and recite "Now I lay me," instead of that speech about all his worldly goods. The last I saw of him, he was reading the obituary notices and saying that there were a lot of lucky people in this world, (As he speaks, he wreathes the brow of the sufferer with a wet towel.) A large whiskey and soda will give you an entirely new angle on life. Remember, there's nothing more to worry about. We'll see that the bridegroom doesn't default, what, Dicky?

DICK: Rather. After all we've gone through to bring that young maniac to reason he'll marry Annette today, per schedule, or my dead body will get in the way of his exit. Here, take this. (He presses upon the prostrate one the radical potion he has just mixed.) I bet Arthur hasn't let you alone long enough in the last two days for you to have a drink. Besides all his other offensive qualities, Arthur has constituted himself an advance agent for prohibition.

NED: You're certainly a wonderful pal, Teddy. Lord, when I think of what you've stood from Arthur in this final frenzy! Arthur brings a perfectly new man here as one of his ushers and Annette promptly engages him in a valedictorian flirtation. Anyone might have known she would do it. Annette's such a playful little thing,—there's no more harm in her than there is in a Zeppelin. But Arthur sees completely red, charges the universe and shrieks that everything's off. He says it's really going too far for Annette to become involved in an affair with another man, with the wedding only two days off. She might at least have had the decency to wait until she was married.

DICK: Well, nobody but Teddy could have saved the wedding day; that's certain. He walked the blithering Othello all over Long Island trying to take his mind off murder. Then he spent the next eighteen hours making him see that he'd have to marry Annette,— that it was only courteous. And then he had to smooth down Annette until she finally consented to play the title role in "Here Comes the Bride."

(These reminiscences of his struggles bring a muffled moan from Theodore.) DICK: I say, let's clear out and give the old chap a second's peace. It's all he'll get. (They start to leave the room on tiptoe, but are arrested by a sudden, resolute rap. Enter Annette, in complete lovehonor-and-obey costume.)

ANNETTE: Where's Theodore? Oh, there. That's nice. Here I've been sending everywhere.

NED: The best man, my dear girl, is at present trying to snatch a moment's badly needed repose prior to assisting you and Arthur over the matrimonial stile.

ANNETTE: Indeed. As it happens I'm not going to climb the stile with Arthur.

NED DICK

Not going to marry Arthur!

ANNETTE: Precisely. (A scandalized pause.)

NED: But look here, Annette, you're not serious, surely? After all Theodore's done— after Arthur—after you—and with the champagne already in tears—I mean to say with your mother all beautifully iced—that is—why, this is dreadful!

DICK: And seven hundred and fifty of the four hundred waiting at the church! And Dicky and me and our gardenias! What about us?

ANNETTE: You'll be just as you were, gardenias and all. You don't think that just for the sake of Mr. Arthur Bluebeard Ellis I mean to disappoint my friends, waste a Sherry breakfast and throw away three thousand dollars on cigarette cases for my bridesmaids—besides letting them in for perfectly useless Botticelli gowns at Lucile's! No, the wedding will take place as arranged, only—

DICK

NED

Only?

ANNETTE: I shall simply marry Theodore.

DICK Theodore!!

(The exclamatory cyclone rouses the best man who has momentarily succumbed to fatigue and other things. He wearily raises his head.)

(Continued on page 118)

(Continued from page 75)

THEODORE: Hello, Annette. What's up now?

ANNETTE: Oh, were you really

asleep? So sorry. I was just saying that after the way Arthur has behaved,—why I wouldn't have a man with such abnormal powers of observation as a butler, much less as a husband— I've decided that I can't marry him, after all. I simply cannot. So rather than disappoint everybody, I'll just marry you.You don't mind, do you, old dear?

(The proposed honor seems to paralyze the best

man.)

THEODORE: Marr—marry ME! Awfully good of you, I'm sure. But I couldn't possibly marry anybody today, Annette. I'm too tired. You've no idea how tired I am.

ANNETTE: Oh, of course, if you wish to see me humiliated, and all the yellow papers getting out extras about me, and everything spoiled! You've always said you'd do anything for me, and now—

THEODORE : But I keep telling you I'm all in. I—

ANNETTE: And now when I ask you the simplest thing—

(She prepares to sob.)

THEODORE: But my dear girl, you don't understand. I haven't had a wink of sleep in forty-eight hours. I've just had a large dose of—prussic acid, wasn't it, Ned? My head feels like a munitions plant. -My morale is completely shattered. I'm not fit to enter the Holy state.

ANNETTE: Very well. Tell everybody, then, that there won't be any wedding, because there isn't any bridegroom. And that it's all your fault. I shall die of disgrace, but I suppose you'll be gla-ad.

(Ned arid Dick, feeling which way the wind

is blowing, immediately become straws.)

NED: I say, Teddy, it is awkward for Annette. After all, seeing that you're such a pal of them both, it's the least you can do.

DICK: And it isn't much she's asking, is it? A girl you've known always, whom you always led to belieye could count on you for anything. And it's only your duty as Arthur's best friend,—for in a way, of course, it's being square to him.

NED: We know you're not what's called a marrying man, Teddy. But just think, you could chuck all the responsibilities of the best man. A bridegroom hasn't a think to think of. It's a cinch.

{A shudder from Theodore while Annette weeps into her posy and the men continue to expostulate. Suddenly—inspiration!)

THEODORE (darkly, sadly) : It hurts me terribly to refuse you anything, Annette. But I'm exempt. There's a reason why I can't marry anyone. A sacred reason. A vow I once made to myself—a sacred promise—and then, think of dear old Arthur—

{At this moment the door is dramatically flung open. Behold the bridegroom!)

ARTHUR: SO here you are. I say, Theodore, I call it rotten of you to go off and leave me like this after all I've done for you.

NED: Qh, don't expect gratitude of Teddy! He has just repudiated his life-long friendship for you and his so-called devotion to Annette by refusing to take your place at the church this morning.

ARTHUR: Take my place? What on earth are you talking about? I thought it was all settled.

ANNETTE: Yes, but I've unsettled it. I'm not going to marry you. Didn't you get my note?

ARTHUR: NO. I've been out hunting for Theodore. I've lost the ring. How much do you have to give the minister? Who takes me up the aisle? Do I have to kiss the bride's mother? Where shall I leave my hat? Theodore really should have taken care of the ring. {Resuming.) Not marry me? After all the bother I've had overlooking your conduct and getting into my orange blossom kit? Nonsense!

ANNETTE: So I suggested—as it would be nice to have the wedding go on,—that I marry Theodore instead. But Theodore is so chivalrous, so devoted to you, that he refuses to go on with the thing.

DICK He says he won't.

ANNETTE: He simply won't. It seems he has quite recently promised that he wouldn't marry. He has given up marriage for the duration of the war, or something like that.

{Arthur stares at the best man with that expression with which one regards the turning worm.)

ARTHUR: Theodore's about as much committed to celibacy as De Wolf Hopper is. He just wants to be disobliging, that's all.

DICK: Why, what's a best man for, if a bride can't call on him to marry her in an emergency?

VANITY FAIR

NED: Particularly when Teddy's

known Annette ever since she wore long skirts.

ANNETTE : Well, somebody has to marry me, that's all there is to it. There are those cigarette cases, marked A. E. in diamonds and rubies. I'd even rather marry Arthur than waste them.

ARTHUR : It is awkward. All my things have been sent ahead to the yacht. . . . Look here, Annette,

let's get married. It would save a lot of trouble.

ANNETTE: But Arthur, our marriage would never be a success.

ARTHUR: My dear, nobody else's ever was, either. ANNETTE: Well, if Theodore will persist in being so obstinate, I suppose I'll have to. But it's just going to ruin my day. I don't want to marry you a bit. I'd be much happier with Teddy.

ARTHUR: I know you would be,—I'd be much happier, too. And I'm going to see that it's done. But Theodore's misplaced chivalry won't let us do anything spectacular. And, after all, this is really the best way to do things. No astounded guests, no putting in a pinch-hitter at the altar, no write-up in Town Topics. Let's simply do it in the normal way.

ANNETTE: What on earth has our wedding to do with my marrying Theodore?

ARTHUR: Everything in the world. You and I will be married in about ten minutes, strictly according to Lohengrin; Theodore, from being best man, will be promoted to the position of family friend,— and then we'll just let nature take its course. Why, it's being done all over the world. In a year, you'll be married to Theodore,—and there you are. Nothing radical, nothing unconventional, nothing to cause any comment. What could be simpler?

{There are four sighs of heartfelt relief and eight eyes gaze admiringly on Arthur. The cares of nations seem to have fallen from Theodore's shoulders. Through the door drift the strains of an organ.)

THEODORE {immediately becoming the efficient best man) : They're playing the opening chorus. We'd better get in line. Just remember to agree to whatever the minister says,—don't argue. There's nothing to worry about. I'm keeping the ring, Arthur, old top. All you have to keep is your head.

ARTHUR: I never was calmer in my life, Teddy. There's nothing to it. Let's go in and get it over. Don't forget our slogan—may the best man win!