The Browning Version Page #3

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Are you following me about or something?

No, sir. Mr. Crocker-Harris isn't in,

and I was waiting for him.

- Did he tell you to come?

- Yes, sir. Extra work.

- What time?

- 1 2:
00.

- Are you sure?

- Positive, sir.

- Is Mrs. Crocker-Harris in?

- No, sir.

Well, Taplow, heard any more

about your promotion?

- Oh, no, sir.

- Why don't you ask him outright?

I did yesterday, sir.

Do you know what he said?

- Mm-mmm.

- ''My dear Taplow...

''I have given you

exactly what you deserve.

No less and certainly no more.''

Not a bit like him.

Read your nice Caesar and be quiet.

Caesar? That's prep school stuff.

This is Greek, sir.

Aeschylus. The Agamemnon.

- Oh.

- Have you ever read it, sir?

Uh, no, I'm afraid not, Taplow.

- Do you know, sir, it isn't such a bad play?

- Yes, it rather has that reputation.

I mean, it's got such a jolly good plot.

A wife murdering her husband

and having a lover and all that.

Only you wouldn't think so,

the way it was taught to us.

Just a lot of Greek words

all strung together...

and 50 lines if you get them wrong.

- You sound a little bitter, Taplow.

- I am rather, sir.

I'd fixed up a date for golf,

and look at the weather.

''Then you must unfix it,

mustn't you, Taplow?''

Yes, that's it.

Gosh, the man's barely human.

Oh, I'm sorry, sir.

Have I gone too far?

- Yes, much too far.

- Sorry, sir. It wasn't only the golf, sir.

It was something else

that happened today.

What?

Well, he made one

of his little classical jokes.

Of course, no one laughed because

no one understood it -- myself included.

Still, I knew he'd meant it

as funny, and I laughed.

Oh, not out of

sucking up, sir, I swear...

but out of feeling a little sorry for him

having made a dud joke.

I do feel sorry for him sometimes.

Goodness only knows why,

because I don't.

Well, the joke was

something like this:

''Scientia est, '' something-or-other,

''scientiam. ''

- Now you laugh, sir.

- Ha, ha.

''Taplow, you laughed at

my little epigram, I noticed.

''I must confess I am flattered...

''at the evident advance

your Latin has made...

''that you should so readily

have understood...

''what the rest of the class did not.

Perhaps now you will be

kind enough to explain it to th --''

Oh, goodness.

- Hello, Frank.

- Oh, hello.

Do you think she heard?

I think she did.

- If she tells him, there goes my promotion.

- Oh, nonsense.

- Taplow.

- Yes, Mrs. Crocker-Harris?

- Are you waiting for my husband?

- Yes.

Well, he's gone to the bursar's.

I think he'll be quite some time.

- If I were you, I'd go.

- But he said most particularly I was to come.

Well, why don't you run away

and come back later? I'll take the blame.

I tell you what.

You can run an errand for him.

Here. Take this to the chemist

and get it made up.

- Yes, Mrs. Crocker-Harris.

- Oh, and Taplow...

while you're there, you might as well

slip into Stewart's and have an ice cream.

Thanks awfully,

Mrs. Crocker-Harris.

Thank you for coming.

I didn't know Andrew had made a date.

- He said he'd be out until lunch.

- Oh, I see.

- Can you come back for a cocktail this evening?

- Yes, I'd love to, if I may.

If you may.

Give me a cigarette.

You haven't given it away yet, I see.

- Do you think I might?

- Frankly, yes.

Luckily, it's a man's case. I don't suppose

any of your girlfriends would want it.

Oh, don't be silly.

Do you know

I haven't seen you for over a week?

- What have you been doing?

- I really have been most awfully busy.

- Besides, I'm going to stay with you in Bradford.

- That's not for over a month.

Andrew doesn't start

his new job until September the 1 st.

That's one of the things

I had to tell you.

Oh, uh, I had expected to be

in Devonshire in September.

- Who with?

- My family.

Surely you can go earlier.

Can't you go in August?

- Well, it'll be difficult.

- Then you'll have to come to me in August.

- But Andrew will be there.

- Yes.

That's right.

Burn the house down.

I think I can manage September.

Well, that would be better

from every point of view.

Except that it means

I shan't see you for six weeks.

- You'll survive that all right.

- Oh, yes, I'll survive it...

but not quite so easily as you will.

Oh, Frank, darling,

I love you so much.

[ Door Closes ]

I shall be seeing you both at dinner tonight.

Mrs. Frobisher was kind enough to ask me.

- Oh, good. I'm so glad.

- Ah, Hunter. How are you?

- Very well, thank you.

- Most kind of you to drop in...

but as Millie should have told you,

I'm expecting a pupil for extra work.

- Yes, he knows about that.

- Ah, good. Is Taplow here?

No. I sent him to the chemist

to get your medicine made up.

There was no need to do that, my dear.

Now Taplow will be late...

and I'm so pressed for time

I hardly know how to fit him in as it is.

Tsk, tsk, tsk.

Millie, give our guest a cigarette.

We haven't got any.

Is there any refreshment

I can offer you?

No, thank you.

I think I'd better be getting along.

No, don't.

I mean, of course, unless you have to.

When Taplow comes back,

we can sit out in the garden and enjoy the sun.

Good idea. Hunter...

perhaps it would interest you to glance at

the new timetable I have drafted for next term.

Yes, very much.

I never knew you drafted our timetables.

Oh, didn't you?

I have done so for the last 1 0 years.

Of course, they are usually issued

under the headmaster's signature.

Now let me see. What class do you take?

Science upper fifth.

There you are.

That's the general picture.

But on the back you will find each class

specified under separate headings.

That's a new idea of mine.

Millie, this might interest you.

You know it bores me to death.

Millie has no head

for this sort of work.

There you are. Here you can follow your class

throughout every day of the week.

I must say,

this is a really wonderful job.

Thank you.

It has the merit of clarity, I think.

I don't know what

they'll do without you.

They will get someone else, I expect.

[ Clock Chiming ]

Excuse me.

What sort of a place

is this you're going to?

A school for backward boys...

run by an old Oxford

contemporary of mine.

The work will not be

as arduous as here...

and the doctor seems to think

that I can undertake it without... danger.

It's the most rotten bad luck for you.

I'm awfully sorry.

My dear Hunter,

there's nothing whatever to be sorry for.

- I am looking forward to the change.

- [ Door Opens ]

Ah, Taplow, good.

- You have been running, I see.

- Yes, sir.

There was a queue

at the chemist's, I suppose.

- Yes, sir.

- And doubtless an even longer one at Stewart's.

Yes, sir. Or rather--

You were late yourself, Andrew.

Exactly. And for that

I apologize, Taplow.

However, nothing has been lost.

We still have a clear hour before lunch.

Hunter, Taplow is desirous of obtaining

his promotion from my class --

or rather, what was my class --

so that he may spend the rest of his career

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