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diff --git a/.gitattributes b/.gitattributes new file mode 100644 index 0000000..6833f05 --- /dev/null +++ b/.gitattributes @@ -0,0 +1,3 @@ +* text=auto +*.txt text +*.md text diff --git a/5055.txt b/5055.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..3edc46c --- /dev/null +++ b/5055.txt @@ -0,0 +1,10581 @@ +Project Gutenberg's The First Series Plays, Complete, by John Galsworthy + +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with +almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + +Title: The First Series Plays, Complete + +Author: John Galsworthy + +Release Date: October 27, 2006 [EBook #5055] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ASCII + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE FIRST SERIES PLAYS, COMPLETE *** + + + + +Produced by David Widger + + + + +FIRST SERIES PLAYS + +By John Galsworthy + + +Contents: + + THE SILVER BOX + JOY + STRIFE + + + +THE SILVER BOX + +A COMEDY IN THREE ACTS + + + +PERSONS OF THE PLAY + +JOHN BARTHWICK, M.P., a wealthy Liberal +MRS. BARTHWICK, his wife +JACK BARTHWICK, their son +ROPER, their solicitor +MRS. JONES, their charwoman +MARLOW, their manservant +WHEELER, their maidservant +JONES, the stranger within their gates +MRS. SEDDON, a landlady +SNOW, a detective +A POLICE MAGISTRATE +AN UNKNOWN LADY, from beyond +TWO LITTLE GIRLS, homeless +LIVENS, their father +A RELIEVING OFFICER +A MAGISTRATE'S CLERK +AN USHER +POLICEMEN, CLERKS, AND OTHERS + + +TIME: The present. The action of the first two Acts takes place on +Easter Tuesday; the action of the third on Easter Wednesday week. + + +ACT I. + SCENE I. Rockingham Gate. John Barthwick's dining-room. + SCENE II. The same. + SCENE III. The same. + +ACT II. + SCENE I. The Jones's lodgings, Merthyr Street. + SCENE II. John Barthwick's dining-room. + +ACT III. A London police court. + + + + +ACT I + +SCENE I + + The curtain rises on the BARTHWICK'S dining-room, large, + modern, and well furnished; the window curtains drawn. + Electric light is burning. On the large round dining-table is + set out a tray with whisky, a syphon, and a silver + cigarette-box. It is past midnight. + + A fumbling is heard outside the door. It is opened suddenly; + JACK BARTHWICK seems to fall into the room. He stands holding + by the door knob, staring before him, with a beatific smile. + He is in evening dress and opera hat, and carries in his hand a + sky-blue velvet lady's reticule. His boyish face is freshly + coloured and clean-shaven. An overcoat is hanging on his arm. + + +JACK. Hello! I've got home all ri----[Defiantly.] Who says I +sh'd never 've opened th' door without 'sistance. [He staggers in, +fumbling with the reticule. A lady's handkerchief and purse of +crimson silk fall out.] Serve her joll' well right--everything +droppin' out. Th' cat. I 've scored her off--I 've got her bag. +[He swings the reticule.] Serves her joly' well right. [He takes a +cigarette out of the silver box and puts it in his mouth.] Never +gave tha' fellow anything! [He hunts through all his pockets and +pulls a shilling out; it drops and rolls away. He looks for it.] +Beastly shilling! [He looks again.] Base ingratitude! Absolutely +nothing. [He laughs.] Mus' tell him I've got absolutely nothing. + + [He lurches through the door and down a corridor, and presently + returns, followed by JONES, who is advanced in liquor. JONES, + about thirty years of age, has hollow cheeks, black circles + round his eyes, and rusty clothes: He looks as though he might + be unemployed, and enters in a hang-dog manner.] + +JACK. Sh! sh! sh! Don't you make a noise, whatever you do. Shu' +the door, an' have a drink. [Very solemnly.] You helped me to open +the door--I 've got nothin, for you. This is my house. My father's +name's Barthwick; he's Member of Parliament--Liberal Member of +Parliament: I've told you that before. Have a drink! [He pours out +whisky and drinks it up.] I'm not drunk [Subsiding on a sofa.] +Tha's all right. Wha's your name? My name's Barthwick, so's my +father's; I'm a Liberal too--wha're you? + +JONES. [In a thick, sardonic voice.] I'm a bloomin' Conservative. +My name's Jones! My wife works 'ere; she's the char; she works +'ere. + +JACK. Jones? [He laughs.] There's 'nother Jones at College with +me. I'm not a Socialist myself; I'm a Liberal--there's ve--lill +difference, because of the principles of the Lib--Liberal Party. +We're all equal before the law--tha's rot, tha's silly. [Laughs.] +Wha' was I about to say? Give me some whisky. + + [JONES gives him the whisky he desires, together with a squirt + of syphon.] + +Wha' I was goin' tell you was--I 've had a row with her. [He waves +the reticule.] Have a drink, Jonessh 'd never have got in without +you--tha 's why I 'm giving you a drink. Don' care who knows I've +scored her off. Th' cat! [He throws his feet up on the sofa.] +Don' you make a noise, whatever you do. You pour out a drink--you +make yourself good long, long drink--you take cigarette--you take +anything you like. Sh'd never have got in without you. [Closing +his eyes.] You're a Tory--you're a Tory Socialist. I'm Liberal +myself--have a drink--I 'm an excel'nt chap. + + [His head drops back. He, smiling, falls asleep, and JONES + stands looking at him; then, snatching up JACK's glass, he + drinks it off. He picks the reticule from off JACK'S + shirt-front, holds it to the light, and smells at it.] + +JONES. Been on the tiles and brought 'ome some of yer cat's fur. +[He stuffs it into JACK's breast pocket.] + +JACK. [Murmuring.] I 've scored you off! You cat! + + [JONES looks around him furtively; he pours out whisky and + drinks it. From the silver box he takes a cigarette, puffs at + it, and drinks more whisky. There is no sobriety left in him.] + +JONES. Fat lot o' things they've got 'ere! [He sees the crimson +purse lying on the floor.] More cat's fur. Puss, puss! [He +fingers it, drops it on the tray, and looks at JACK.] Calf! Fat +calf! [He sees his own presentment in a mirror. Lifting his hands, +with fingers spread, he stares at it; then looks again at JACK, +clenching his fist as if to batter in his sleeping, smiling face. +Suddenly he tilts the rest o f the whisky into the glass and drinks +it. With cunning glee he takes the silver box and purse and pockets +them.] I 'll score you off too, that 's wot I 'll do! + + [He gives a little snarling laugh and lurches to the door. His + shoulder rubs against the switch; the light goes out. There is + a sound as of a closing outer door.] + + + The curtain falls. + + + + +The curtain rises again at once. + +SCENE II + + In the BARTHWICK'S dining-room. JACK is still asleep; the + morning light is coming through the curtains. The time is + half-past eight. WHEELER, brisk person enters with a dust-pan, + and MRS. JONES more slowly with a scuttle. + +WHEELER. [Drawing the curtains.] That precious husband of yours +was round for you after you'd gone yesterday, Mrs. Jones. Wanted +your money for drink, I suppose. He hangs about the corner here +half the time. I saw him outside the "Goat and Bells" when I went +to the post last night. If I were you I would n't live with him. I +would n't live with a man that raised his hand to me. I wouldn't +put up with it. Why don't you take your children and leave him? If +you put up with 'im it'll only make him worse. I never can see why, +because a man's married you, he should knock you about. + +MRS. JONES. [Slim, dark-eyed, and dark-haired; oval-faced, and with +a smooth, soft, even voice; her manner patient, her way of talking +quite impersonal; she wears a blue linen dress, and boots with +holes.] It was nearly two last night before he come home, and he +wasn't himself. He made me get up, and he knocked me about; he +didn't seem to know what he was saying or doing. Of course I would +leave him, but I'm really afraid of what he'd do to me. He 's such +a violent man when he's not himself. + +WHEELER. Why don't you get him locked up? You'll never have any +peace until you get him locked up. If I were you I'd go to the +police court tomorrow. That's what I would do. + +MRS. JONES. Of course I ought to go, because he does treat me so +badly when he's not himself. But you see, Bettina, he has a very +hard time--he 's been out of work two months, and it preys upon his +mind. When he's in work he behaves himself much better. It's when +he's out of work that he's so violent. + +WHEELER. Well, if you won't take any steps you 'll never get rid of +him. + +MRS. JONES. Of course it's very wearing to me; I don't get my sleep +at nights. And it 's not as if I were getting help from him, +because I have to do for the children and all of us. And he throws +such dreadful things up at me, talks of my having men to follow me +about. Such a thing never happens; no man ever speaks to me. And +of course, it's just the other way. It's what he does that's wrong +and makes me so unhappy. And then he 's always threatenin' to cut +my throat if I leave him. It's all the drink, and things preying on +his mind; he 's not a bad man really. Sometimes he'll speak quite +kind to me, but I've stood so much from him, I don't feel it in me +to speak kind back, but just keep myself to myself. And he's all +right with the children too, except when he's not himself. + +WHEELER. You mean when he's drunk, the beauty. + +MRS. JONES. Yes. [Without change of voice] There's the young +gentleman asleep on the sofa. + + [They both look silently at Jack.] + +MRS. JONES. [At last, in her soft voice.] He does n't look quite +himself. + +WHEELER. He's a young limb, that's what he is. It 's my belief he +was tipsy last night, like your husband. It 's another kind of +bein' out of work that sets him to drink. I 'll go and tell Marlow. +This is his job. + + [She goes.] + + [Mrs. Jones, upon her knees, begins a gentle sweeping.] + +JACK. [Waking.] Who's there? What is it? + +MRS. JONES. It's me, sir, Mrs. Jones. + +JACK. [Sitting up and looking round.] Where is it--what--what time +is it? + +MRS. JONES. It's getting on for nine o'clock, sir. + +JACK. For nine! Why--what! [Rising, and loosening his tongue; +putting hands to his head, and staring hard at Mrs. Jones.] Look +here, you, Mrs.----Mrs. Jones--don't you say you caught me asleep +here. + +MRS. JONES. No, sir, of course I won't sir. + +JACK. It's quite an accident; I don't know how it happened. I must +have forgotten to go to bed. It's a queer thing. I 've got a most +beastly headache. Mind you don't say anything, Mrs. Jones. + + [Goes out and passes MARLOW in the doorway. MARLOW is young + and quiet; he is cleanshaven, and his hair is brushed high from + his forehead in a coxcomb. Incidentally a butler, he is first + a man. He looks at MRS. JONES, and smiles a private smile.] + +MARLOW. Not the first time, and won't be the last. Looked a bit +dicky, eh, Mrs. Jones? + +MRS. JONES. He did n't look quite himself. Of course I did n't +take notice. + +MARLOW. You're used to them. How's your old man? + +MRS. JONES. [Softly as throughout.] Well, he was very bad last +night; he did n't seem to know what he was about. He was very late, +and he was most abusive. But now, of course, he's asleep. + +MARLOW. That's his way of finding a job, eh? + +MRS. JONES. As a rule, Mr. Marlow, he goes out early every morning +looking for work, and sometimes he comes in fit to drop--and of +course I can't say he does n't try to get it, because he does. +Trade's very bad. [She stands quite still, her fan and brush before +her, at the beginning and the end of long vistas of experience, +traversing them with her impersonal eye.] But he's not a good +husband to me--last night he hit me, and he was so dreadfully +abusive. + +MARLOW. Bank 'oliday, eh! He 's too fond of the "Goat and Bells," +that's what's the matter with him. I see him at the corner late +every night. He hangs about. + +MRS. JONES. He gets to feeling very low walking about all day after +work, and being refused so often, and then when he gets a drop in +him it goes to his head. But he shouldn't treat his wife as he +treats me. Sometimes I 've had to go and walk about at night, when +he wouldn't let me stay in the room; but he's sorry for it +afterwards. And he hangs about after me, he waits for me in the +street; and I don't think he ought to, because I 've always been a +good wife to him. And I tell him Mrs. Barthwick wouldn't like him +coming about the place. But that only makes him angry, and he says +dreadful things about the gentry. Of course it was through me that +he first lost his place, through his not treating me right; and +that's made him bitter against the gentry. He had a very good place +as groom in the country; but it made such a stir, because of course +he did n't treat me right. + +MARLOW. Got the sack? + +MRS. JONES. Yes; his employer said he couldn't keep him, because +there was a great deal of talk; and he said it was such a bad +example. But it's very important for me to keep my work here; I +have the three children, and I don't want him to come about after me +in the streets, and make a disturbance as he sometimes does. + +MARLOW. [Holding up the empty decanter.] Not a drain! Next time +he hits you get a witness and go down to the court---- + +MRS. JONES. Yes, I think I 've made up my mind. I think I ought +to. + +MARLOW. That's right. Where's the ciga----? + + [He searches for the silver box; he looks at MRS. JONES, who is + sweeping on her hands and knees; he checks himself and stands + reflecting. From the tray he picks two half-smoked cigarettes, + and reads the name on them.] + +Nestor--where the deuce----? + + [With a meditative air he looks again at MRS. JONES, and, + taking up JACK'S overcoat, he searches in the pockets. + WHEELER, with a tray of breakfast things, comes in.] + +MARLOW. [Aside to WHEELER.] Have you seen the cigarette-box? + +WHEELER. No. + +MARLOW. Well, it's gone. I put it on the tray last night. And +he's been smoking. [Showing her the ends of cigarettes.] It's not +in these pockets. He can't have taken it upstairs this morning! +Have a good look in his room when he comes down. Who's been in +here? + +WHEELER. Only me and Mrs. Jones. + +MRS. JONES. I 've finished here; shall I do the drawing-room now? + +WHEELER. [Looking at her doubtfully.] Have you seen----Better do +the boudwower first. + + [MRS. JONES goes out with pan and brush. MARLOW and WHEELER + look each other in the face.] + +MARLOW. It'll turn up. + +WHEELER. [Hesitating.] You don't think she---- +[Nodding at the door.] + +MARLOW. [Stoutly.] I don't----I never believes anything of +anybody. + +WHEELER. But the master'll have to be told. + +MARLOW. You wait a bit, and see if it don't turn up. Suspicion's +no business of ours. I set my mind against it. + + + The curtain falls. + + + + + The curtain rises again at once. + + + +SCENE III + + BARTHWICK and MRS. BARTHWICK are seated at the breakfast table. + He is a man between fifty and sixty; quietly important, with a + bald forehead, and pince-nez, and the "Times" in his hand. She + is a lady of nearly fifty, well dressed, with greyish hair, + good features, and a decided manner. They face each other. + +BARTHWICK. [From behind his paper.] The Labour man has got in at +the by-election for Barnside, my dear. + +MRS. BARTHWICK. Another Labour? I can't think what on earth the +country is about. + +BARTHWICK. I predicted it. It's not a matter of vast importance. + +MRS. BARTHWICK. Not? How can you take it so calmly, John? To me +it's simply outrageous. And there you sit, you Liberals, and +pretend to encourage these people! + +BARTHWICK. [Frowning.] The representation of all parties is +necessary for any proper reform, for any proper social policy. + +MRS. BARTHWICK. I've no patience with your talk of reform--all that +nonsense about social policy. We know perfectly well what it is +they want; they want things for themselves. Those Socialists and +Labour men are an absolutely selfish set of people. They have no +sense of patriotism, like the upper classes; they simply want what +we've got. + +BARTHWICK. Want what we've got! [He stares into space.] My dear, +what are you talking about? [With a contortion.] I 'm no alarmist. + +MRS. BARTHWICK. Cream? Quite uneducated men! Wait until they +begin to tax our investments. I 'm convinced that when they once +get a chance they will tax everything--they 've no feeling for the +country. You Liberals and Conservatives, you 're all alike; you +don't see an inch before your noses. You've no imagination, not a +scrap of imagination between you. You ought to join hands and nip +it in the bud. + +BARTHWICK. You 're talking nonsense! How is it possible for +Liberals and Conservatives to join hands, as you call it? That +shows how absurd it is for women----Why, the very essence of a +Liberal is to trust in the people! + +MRS. BARTHWICK. Now, John, eat your breakfast. As if there were +any real difference between you and the Conservatives. All the +upper classes have the same interests to protect, and the same +principles. [Calmly.] Oh! you're sitting upon a volcano, John. + +BARTHWICK. What! + +MRS. BARTHWICK. I read a letter in the paper yesterday. I forget +the man's name, but it made the whole thing perfectly clear. You +don't look things in the face. + +BARTHWICK. Indeed! [Heavily.] I am a Liberal! Drop the subject, +please! + +MRS. BARTHWICK. Toast? I quite agree with what this man says: +Education is simply ruining the lower classes. It unsettles them, +and that's the worst thing for us all. I see an enormous difference +in the manner of servants. + +BARTHWICK, [With suspicious emphasis.] I welcome any change that +will lead to something better. [He opens a letter.] H'm! This is +that affair of Master Jack's again. "High Street, Oxford. Sir, We +have received Mr. John Barthwick, Senior's, draft for forty pounds!" +Oh! the letter's to him! "We now enclose the cheque you cashed with +us, which, as we stated in our previous letter, was not met on +presentation at your bank. We are, Sir, yours obediently, Moss and +Sons, Tailors." H 'm! [Staring at the cheque.] A pretty business +altogether! The boy might have been prosecuted. + +MRS. BARTHWICK. Come, John, you know Jack did n't mean anything; he +only thought he was overdrawing. I still think his bank ought to +have cashed that cheque. They must know your position. + +BARTHWICK. [Replacing in the envelope the letter and the cheque.] +Much good that would have done him in a court of law. + + [He stops as JACK comes in, fastening his waistcoat and + staunching a razor cut upon his chin.] + +JACK. [Sitting down between them, and speaking with an artificial +joviality.] Sorry I 'm late. [He looks lugubriously at the +dishes.] Tea, please, mother. Any letters for me? [BARTHWICK +hands the letter to him.] But look here, I say, this has been +opened! I do wish you would n't---- + +BARTHWICK. [Touching the envelope.] I suppose I 'm entitled to +this name. + +JACK. [Sulkily.] Well, I can't help having your name, father! [He +reads the letter, and mutters.] Brutes! + +BARTHWICK. [Eyeing him.] You don't deserve to be so well out of +that. + +JACK. Haven't you ragged me enough, dad? + +MRS. BARTHWICK. Yes, John, let Jack have his breakfast. + +BARTHWICK. If you hadn't had me to come to, where would you have +been? It's the merest accident--suppose you had been the son of a +poor man or a clerk. Obtaining money with a cheque you knew your +bank could not meet. It might have ruined you for life. I can't +see what's to become of you if these are your principles. I never +did anything of the sort myself. + +JACK. I expect you always had lots of money. If you've got plenty +of money, of course---- + +BARTHWICK. On the contrary, I had not your advantages. My father +kept me very short of money. + +JACK. How much had you, dad? + +BARTHWICK. It's not material. The question is, do you feel the +gravity of what you did? + +JACK. I don't know about the gravity. Of course, I 'm very sorry +if you think it was wrong. Have n't I said so! I should never have +done it at all if I had n't been so jolly hard up. + +BARTHWICK. How much of that forty pounds have you got left, Jack? + +JACK. [Hesitating.] I don't know--not much. + +BARTHWICK. How much? + +JACK. [Desperately.] I have n't got any. + +BARTHWICK. What? + +JACK. I know I 've got the most beastly headache. + + [He leans his head on his hand.] + +MRS. BARTHWICK. Headache? My dear boy! Can't you eat any +breakfast? + +JACK. [Drawing in his breath.] Too jolly bad! + +MRS. BARTHWICK. I'm so sorry. Come with me; dear; I'll give you +something that will take it away at once. + + [They leave the room; and BARTHWICK, tearing up the letter, + goes to the fireplace and puts the pieces in the fire. While + he is doing this MARLOW comes in, and looking round him, is + about quietly to withdraw.] + +BARTHWICK. What's that? What d 'you want? + +MARLOW. I was looking for Mr. John, sir. + +BARTHWICK. What d' you want Mr. John for? + +MARLOW. [With hesitation.] I thought I should find him here, sir. + +BARTHWICK. [Suspiciously.] Yes, but what do you want him for? + +MARLOW. [Offhandedly.] There's a lady called--asked to speak to +him for a minute, sir. + +BARTHWICK. A lady, at this time in the morning. What sort of a +lady? + +MARLOW. [Without expression in his voice.] I can't tell, sir; no +particular sort. She might be after charity. She might be a Sister +of Mercy, I should think, sir. + +BARTHWICK. Is she dressed like one? + +MARLOW. No, sir, she's in plain clothes, sir. + +BARTHWICK. Did n't she say what she wanted? + +MARLOW. No sir. + +BARTHWICK. Where did you leave her? + +MARLOW. In the hall, sir. + +BARTHWICK. In the hall? How do you know she's not a thief--not got +designs on the house? + +MARLOW. No, sir, I don't fancy so, sir. + +BARTHWICK. Well, show her in here; I'll see her myself. + + [MARLOW goes out with a private gesture of dismay. He soon + returns, ushering in a young pale lady with dark eyes and + pretty figure, in a modish, black, but rather shabby dress, a + black and white trimmed hat with a bunch of Parma violets + wrongly placed, and fuzzy-spotted veil. At the Sight of MR. + BARTHWICK she exhibits every sign of nervousness. MARLOW goes + out.] + +UNKNOWN LADY. Oh! but--I beg pardon there's some mistake--I [She +turns to fly.] + +BARTHWICK. Whom did you want to see, madam? + +UNKNOWN. [Stopping and looking back.] It was Mr. John Barthwick I +wanted to see. + +BARTHWICK. I am John Barthwick, madam. What can I have the +pleasure of doing for you? + +UNKNOWN. Oh! I--I don't [She drops her eyes. BARTHWICK +scrutinises her, and purses his lips.] + +BARTHWICK. It was my son, perhaps, you wished to see? + +UNKNOWN. [Quickly.] Yes, of course, it's your son. + +BARTHWICK. May I ask whom I have the pleasure of speaking to? + +UNKNOWN. [Appeal and hardiness upon her face.] My name is----oh! +it does n't matter--I don't want to make any fuss. I just want to +see your son for a minute. [Boldly.] In fact, I must see him. + +BARTHWICK. [Controlling his uneasiness.] My son is not very well. +If necessary, no doubt I could attend to the matter; be so kind as +to let me know---- + +UNKNOWN. Oh! but I must see him--I 've come on purpose--[She bursts +out nervously.] I don't want to make any fuss, but the fact is, +last--last night your son took away--he took away my [She stops.] + +BARTHWICK. [Severely.] Yes, madam, what? + +UNKNOWN. He took away my--my reticule. + +BARTHWICK. Your reti----? + +UNKNOWN. I don't care about the reticule; it's not that I want--I +'m sure I don't want to make any fuss--[her face is quivering]--but +--but--all my money was in it! + +BARTHWICK. In what--in what? + +UNKNOWN. In my purse, in the reticule. It was a crimson silk +purse. Really, I wouldn't have come--I don't want to make any fuss. +But I must get my money back--mustn't I? + +BARTHWICK. Do you tell me that my son----? + +UNKNOWN. Oh! well, you see, he was n't quite I mean he was + + [She smiles mesmerically.] + +BARTHWICK. I beg your pardon. + +UNKNOWN. [Stamping her foot.] Oh! don't you see--tipsy! We had a +quarrel. + +BARTHWICK. [Scandalised.] How? Where? + +UNKNOWN. [Defiantly.] At my place. We'd had supper at the----and +your son---- + +BARTHWICK. [Pressing the bell.] May I ask how you knew this house? +Did he give you his name and address? + +UNKNOWN. [Glancing sidelong.] I got it out of his overcoat. + +BARTHWICK. [Sardonically.] Oh! you got it out of his overcoat. +And may I ask if my son will know you by daylight? + +UNKNOWN. Know me? I should jolly--I mean, of course he will! + [MARLOW comes in.] + +BARTHWICK. Ask Mr. John to come down. + + [MARLOW goes out, and BARTHWICK walks uneasily about.] + +And how long have you enjoyed his acquaintanceship? + +UNKNOWN. Only since--only since Good Friday. + +BARTHWICK. I am at a loss--I repeat I am at a---- + + [He glances at this unknown lady, who stands with eyes cast + down, twisting her hands And suddenly Jack appears. He stops + on seeing who is here, and the unknown lady hysterically + giggles. There is a silence.] + +BARTHWICK. [Portentously.] This young--er--lady says that last +night--I think you said last night madam--you took away---- + +UNKNOWN. [Impulsively.] My reticule, and all my money was in a +crimson silk purse. + +JACK. Reticule. [Looking round for any chance to get away.] I +don't know anything about it. + +BARTHWICK. [Sharply.] Come, do you deny seeing this young lady +last night? + +JACK. Deny? No, of course. [Whispering.] Why did you give me +away like this? What on earth did you come here for? + +UNKNOWN. [Tearfully.] I'm sure I didn't want to--it's not likely, +is it? You snatched it out of my hand--you know you did--and the +purse had all my money in it. I did n't follow you last night +because I did n't want to make a fuss and it was so late, and you +were so---- + +BARTHWICK. Come, sir, don't turn your back on me--explain! + +JACK. [Desperately.] I don't remember anything about it. [In a +low voice to his friend.] Why on earth could n't you have written? + +UNKNOWN. [Sullenly.] I want it now; I must have, it--I 've got to +pay my rent to-day. [She looks at BARTHWICK.] They're only too glad +to jump on people who are not--not well off. + +JACK. I don't remember anything about it, really. I don't remember +anything about last night at all. [He puts his hand up to his +head.] It's all--cloudy, and I 've got such a beastly headache. + +UNKNOWN. But you took it; you know you did. You said you'd score +me off. + +JACK. Well, then, it must be here. I remember now--I remember +something. Why did I take the beastly thing? + +BARTHWICK. Yes, why did you take the beastly----[He turns abruptly +to the window.] + +UNKNOWN. [With her mesmeric smile.] You were n't quite were you? + +JACK. [Smiling pallidly.] I'm awfully sorry. If there's anything +I can do---- + +BARTHWICK. Do? You can restore this property, I suppose. + +JACK. I'll go and have a look, but I really don't think I 've got +it. + + [He goes out hurriedly. And BARTHWICK, placing a chair, + motions to the visitor to sit; then, with pursed lips, he + stands and eyes her fixedly. She sits, and steals a look at + him; then turns away, and, drawing up her veil, stealthily + wipes her eyes. And Jack comes back.] + +JACK. [Ruefully holding out the empty reticule.] Is that the +thing? I 've looked all over--I can't find the purse anywhere. Are +you sure it was there? + +UNKNOWN. [Tearfully.] Sure? Of course I'm sure. A crimson silk +purse. It was all the money I had. + +JACK. I really am awfully sorry--my head's so jolly bad. I 've +asked the butler, but he has n't seen it. + +UNKNOWN. I must have my money---- + +JACK. Oh! Of course--that'll be all right; I'll see that that's +all right. How much? + +UNKNOWN. [Sullenly.] Seven pounds-twelve--it's all I 've got in +the world. + +JACK. That'll be all right; I'll--send you a cheque. + +UNKNOWN. [Eagerly.] No; now, please. Give me what was in my +purse; I've got to pay my rent this morning. They won't' give me +another day; I'm a fortnight behind already. + +JACK. [Blankly.] I'm awfully sorry; I really have n't a penny in +my pocket. + + [He glances stealthily at BARTHWICK.] + +UNKNOWN. [Excitedly.] Come I say you must--it's my money, and you +took it. I 'm not going away without it. They 'll turn me out of +my place. + +JACK. [Clasping his head.] But I can't give you what I have n't +got. Don't I tell you I have n't a beastly cent. + +UNKNOWN. [Tearing at her handkerchief.] Oh! do give it me! [She +puts her hands together in appeal; then, with sudden fierceness.] +If you don't I'll summons you. It's stealing, that's what it is! + +BARTHWICK. [Uneasily.] One moment, please. As a matter of---er +--principle, I shall settle this claim. [He produces money.] Here is +eight pounds; the extra will cover the value of the purse and your +cab fares. I need make no comment--no thanks are necessary. + + [Touching the bell, he holds the door ajar in silence. The + unknown lady stores the money in her reticule, she looks from + JACK to BARTHWICK, and her face is quivering faintly with a + smile. She hides it with her hand, and steals away. Behind + her BARTHWICK shuts the door.] + +BARTHWICK. [With solemnity.] H'm! This is nice thing to happen! + +JACK. [Impersonally.] What awful luck! + +BARTHWICK. So this is the way that forty pounds has gone! One +thing after another! Once more I should like to know where you 'd +have been if it had n't been for me! You don't seem to have any +principles. You--you're one of those who are a nuisance to society; +you--you're dangerous! What your mother would say I don't know. +Your conduct, as far as I can see, is absolutely unjustifiable. +It's--it's criminal. Why, a poor man who behaved as you've done +--d' you think he'd have any mercy shown him? What you want is a good +lesson. You and your sort are--[he speaks with feeling]--a nuisance +to the community. Don't ask me to help you next time. You're not +fit to be helped. + +JACK. [Turning upon his sire, with unexpected fierceness.] All +right, I won't then, and see how you like it. You would n't have +helped me this time, I know, if you had n't been scared the thing +would get into the papers. Where are the cigarettes? + +BARTHWICK. [Regarding him uneasily.] Well I 'll say no more about +it. [He rings the bell.] I 'll pass it over for this once, but---- +[MARLOW Comes in.] You can clear away. + + [He hides his face behind the "Times."] + +JACK. [Brightening.] I say, Marlow, where are the cigarettes? + +MARLOW. I put the box out with the whisky last night, sir, but this +morning I can't find it anywhere. + +JACK. Did you look in my room? + +MARLOW. Yes, sir; I've looked all over the house. I found two +Nestor ends in the tray this morning, so you must have been smokin' +last night, sir. [Hesitating.] I 'm really afraid some one's +purloined the box. + +JACK. [Uneasily.] Stolen it! + +BARTHWICK. What's that? The cigarette-box! Is anything else +missing? + +MARLOW. No, sir; I 've been through the plate. + +BARTHWICK. Was the house all right this morning? None of the +windows open? + +MARLOW. No, sir. [Quietly to JACK.] You left your latch-key in +the door last night, sir. + + [He hands it back, unseen by BARTHWICK] + +JACK. Tst! + +BARTHWICK. Who's been in the room this morning? + +MARLOW. Me and Wheeler, and Mrs. Jones is all, sir, as far as I +know. + +BARTHWICK. Have you asked Mrs. Barthwick? + +[To JACK.] Go and ask your mother if she's had it; ask her to look +and see if she's missed anything else. + + [JACK goes upon this mission.] + +Nothing is more disquieting than losing things like this. + +MARLOW. No, sir. + +BARTHWICK. Have you any suspicions? + +MARLOW, No, sir. + +BARTHWICK. This Mrs. Jones--how long has she been working here? + +MARLOW. Only this last month, sir. + +BARTHWICK. What sort of person? + +MARLOW. I don't know much about her, sir; seems a very quiet, +respectable woman. + +BARTHWICK. Who did the room this morning? + +MARLOW. Wheeler and Mrs. Jones, Sir. + +BARTHWICK. [With his forefinger upraised.] Now, was this Mrs. +Jones in the room alone at any time? + +MARLOW. [Expressionless.] Yes, Sir. + +BARTHWICK. How do you know that? + +MARLOW. [Reluctantly.] I found her here, sir. + +BARTHWICK. And has Wheeler been in the room alone? + +MARLOW. No, sir, she's not, sir. I should say, sir, that Mrs. +Jones seems a very honest---- + +BARTHWICK. [Holding up his hand.] I want to know this: Has this +Mrs. Jones been here the whole morning? + +MARLOW. Yes, sir--no, sir--she stepped over to the greengrocer's +for cook. + +BARTHWICK. H'm! Is she in the house now? + +MARLOW. Yes, Sir. + +BARTHWICK. Very good. I shall make a point of clearing this up. +On principle I shall make a point of fixing the responsibility; it +goes to the foundations of security. In all your interests---- + +MARLOW. Yes, Sir. + +BARTHWICK. What sort of circumstances is this Mrs. Jones in? Is +her husband in work? + +MARLOW. I believe not, sir. + +BARTHWICK. Very well. Say nothing about it to any one. Tell +Wheeler not to speak of it, and ask Mrs. Jones to step up here. + +MARLOW. Very good, sir. + + [MARLOW goes out, his face concerned; and BARTHWICK stays, his + face judicial and a little pleased, as befits a man conducting + an inquiry. MRS. BARTHWICK and hey son come in.] + +BARTHWICK. Well, my dear, you've not seen it, I suppose? + +MRS. BARTHWICK. No. But what an extraordinary thing, John! +Marlow, of course, is out of the question. I 'm certain none of the +maids as for cook! + +BARTHWICK. Oh, cook! + +MRS. BARTHWICK. Of course! It's perfectly detestable to me to +suspect anybody. + +BARTHWICK. It is not a question of one's feelings. It's a question +of justice. On principle---- + +MRS. BARTHWICK. I should n't be a bit surprised if the charwoman +knew something about it. It was Laura who recommended her. + +BARTHWICK. [Judicially.] I am going to have Mrs. Jones up. Leave +it to me; and--er--remember that nobody is guilty until they're +proved so. I shall be careful. I have no intention of frightening +her; I shall give her every chance. I hear she's in poor +circumstances. If we are not able to do much for them we are bound +to have the greatest sympathy with the poor. [MRS. JONES comes in.] +[Pleasantly.] Oh! good morning, Mrs. Jones. + +MRS. JONES. [Soft, and even, unemphatic.] Good morning, sir! Good +morning, ma'am! + +BARTHWICK. About your husband--he's not in work, I hear? + +MRS. JONES. No, sir; of course he's not in work just now. + +BARTHWICK. Then I suppose he's earning nothing. + +MRS. JONES. No, sir, he's not earning anything just now, sir. + +BARTHWICK. And how many children have you? + +MRS. JONES. Three children; but of course they don't eat very much +sir. [A little silence.] + +BARTHWICK. And how old is the eldest? + +MRS. JONES. Nine years old, sir. + +BARTHWICK. Do they go to school? + +MRS. JONES, Yes, sir, they all three go to school every day. + +BARTHWICK. [Severely.] And what about their food when you're out +at work? + +MRS. JONES. Well, Sir, I have to give them their dinner to take +with them. Of course I 'm not always able to give them anything; +sometimes I have to send them without; but my husband is very good +about the children when he's in work. But when he's not in work of +course he's a very difficult man. + +BARTHWICK. He drinks, I suppose? + +MRS. JONES. Yes, Sir. Of course I can't say he does n't drink, +because he does. + +BARTHWICK. And I suppose he takes all your money? + +MRS. JONES. No, sir, he's very good about my money, except when +he's not himself, and then, of course, he treats me very badly. + +BARTHWICK. Now what is he--your husband? + +MRS. JONES. By profession, sir, of course he's a groom. + +BARTHWICK. A groom! How came he to lose his place? + +MRS. JONES. He lost his place a long time ago, sir, and he's never +had a very long job since; and now, of course, the motor-cars are +against him. + +BARTHWICK. When were you married to him, Mrs. Jones? + +MRS. JONES. Eight years ago, sir that was in---- + +MRS. BARTHWICK. [Sharply.] Eight? You said the eldest child was +nine. + +MRS. JONES. Yes, ma'am; of course that was why he lost his place. +He did n't treat me rightly, and of course his employer said he +couldn't keep him because of the example. + +BARTHWICK. You mean he--ahem---- + +MRS. JONES. Yes, sir; and of course after he lost his place he +married me. + +MRS. BARTHWICK. You actually mean to say you--you were---- + +BARTHWICK. My dear---- + +MRS. BARTHWICK. [Indignantly.] How disgraceful! + +BARTHWICK. [Hurriedly.] And where are you living now, Mrs. Jones? + +MRS. JONES. We've not got a home, sir. Of course we've been +obliged to put away most of our things. + +BARTHWICK. Put your things away! You mean to--to--er--to pawn +them? + +MRS. JONES. Yes, sir, to put them away. We're living in Merthyr +Street--that is close by here, sir--at No. 34. We just have the one +room. + +BARTHWICK. And what do you pay a week? + +MRS. JONES. We pay six shillings a week, sir, for a furnished room. + +BARTHWICK. And I suppose you're behind in the rent? + +MRS. JONES. Yes, sir, we're a little behind in the rent. + +BARTHWICK. But you're in good work, aren't you? + +MRS. JONES. Well, Sir, I have a day in Stamford Place Thursdays. +And Mondays and Wednesdays and Fridays I come here. But to-day, of +course, is a half-day, because of yesterday's Bank Holiday. + +BARTHWICK. I see; four days a week, and you get half a crown a day, +is that it? + +MRS. JONES. Yes, sir, and my dinner; but sometimes it's only half +a day, and that's eighteen pence. + +BARTHWICK. And when your husband earns anything he spends it in +drink, I suppose? + +MRS. JONES. Sometimes he does, sir, and sometimes he gives it to me +for the children. Of course he would work if he could get it, sir, +but it seems there are a great many people out of work. + +BARTHWICK. Ah! Yes. We--er--won't go into that. +[Sympathetically.] And how about your work here? Do you find it +hard? + +MRS. JONES. Oh! no, sir, not very hard, sir; except of course, +when I don't get my sleep at night. + +BARTHWICK. Ah! And you help do all the rooms? And sometimes, I +suppose, you go out for cook? + +MRS. JONES. Yes, Sir. + +BARTHWICK. And you 've been out this morning? + +MRS. JONES. Yes, sir, of course I had to go to the greengrocer's. + +BARTHWICK. Exactly. So your husband earns nothing? And he's a bad +character. + +MRS. JONES. No, Sir, I don't say that, sir. I think there's a +great deal of good in him; though he does treat me very bad +sometimes. And of course I don't like to leave him, but I think I +ought to, because really I hardly know how to stay with him. He +often raises his hand to me. Not long ago he gave me a blow here +[touches her breast] and I can feel it now. So I think I ought to +leave him, don't you, sir? + +BARTHWICK. Ah! I can't help you there. It's a very serious thing +to leave your husband. Very serious thing. + +MRS. JONES. Yes, sir, of course I 'm afraid of what he might do to +me if I were to leave him; he can be so very violent. + +BARTHWICK. H'm! Well, that I can't pretend to say anything about. +It's the bad principle I'm speaking of---- + +MRS. JONES. Yes, Sir; I know nobody can help me. I know I must +decide for myself, and of course I know that he has a very hard +life. And he's fond of the children, and its very hard for him to +see them going without food. + +BARTHWICK. [Hastily.] Well--er--thank you, I just wanted to hear +about you. I don't think I need detain you any longer, Mrs. Jones. + +MRS. JONES. No, sir, thank you, sir. + +BARTHWICK. Good morning, then. + +MRS. JONES. Good morning, sir; good morning, ma'am. + +BARTHWICK. [Exchanging glances with his wife.] By the way, Mrs. +Jones--I think it is only fair to tell you, a silver cigarette-box +--er--is missing. + +MRS. JONES. [Looking from one face to the other.] I am very sorry, +sir. + +BARTHWICK. Yes; you have not seen it, I suppose? + +MRS. JONES. [Realising that suspicion is upon her; with an uneasy +movement.] Where was it, sir; if you please, sir? + +BARTHWICK. [Evasively.] Where did Marlow say? Er--in this room, +yes, in this room. + +MRS. JONES. No, Sir, I have n't seen it--of course if I 'd seen it +I should have noticed it. + +BARTHWICK. [Giving hey a rapid glance.] You--you are sure of that? + +MRS. JONES. [Impassively.] Yes, Sir. [With a slow nodding of her +head.] I have not seen it, and of course I don't know where it is. + + [She turns and goes quietly out.] + +BARTHWICK. H'm! + + [The three BARTHWICKS avoid each other's glances.] + + + The curtain falls. + + + + +ACT II + +SCENE I + + The JONES's lodgings, Merthyr Street, at half-past two o'clock. + + The bare room, with tattered oilcloth and damp, distempered + walls, has an air of tidy wretchedness. On the bed lies JONES, + half-dressed; his coat is thrown across his feet, and muddy + boots are lying on the floor close by. He is asleep. The door + is opened and MRS. JONES comes in, dressed in a pinched black + jacket and old black sailor hat; she carries a parcel wrapped + up in the "Times." She puts her parcel down, unwraps an apron, + half a loaf, two onions, three potatoes, and a tiny piece of + bacon. Taking a teapot from the cupboard, she rinses it, + shakes into it some powdered tea out of a screw of paper, puts + it on the hearth, and sitting in a wooden chair quietly begins + to cry. + +JONES. [Stirring and yawning.] That you? What's the time? + +MRS. JONES. [Drying her eyes, and in her usual voice.] Half-past +two. + +JONES. What you back so soon for? + +MRS. JONES. I only had the half day to-day, Jem. + +JONES. [On his back, and in a drowsy voice.] Got anything for +dinner? + +MRS. JONES. Mrs. BARTHWICK's cook gave me a little bit of bacon. +I'm going to make a stew. [She prepares for cooking.] There's +fourteen shillings owing for rent, James, and of course I 've only +got two and fourpence. They'll be coming for it to-day. + +JONES. [Turning towards her on his elbow.] Let 'em come and find +my surprise packet. I've had enough o' this tryin' for work. Why +should I go round and round after a job like a bloomin' squirrel in +a cage. "Give us a job, sir"--"Take a man on"--"Got a wife and +three children." Sick of it I am! I 'd sooner lie here and rot. +"Jones, you come and join the demonstration; come and 'old a flag, +and listen to the ruddy orators, and go 'ome as empty as you came." +There's some that seems to like that--the sheep! When I go seekin' +for a job now, and see the brutes lookin' me up an' down, it's like +a thousand serpents in me. I 'm not arskin' for any treat. A man +wants to sweat hisself silly and not allowed that's a rum start, +ain't it? A man wants to sweat his soul out to keep the breath in +him and ain't allowed--that's justice that's freedom and all the +rest of it! [He turns his face towards the wall.] You're so milky +mild; you don't know what goes on inside o' me. I'm done with the +silly game. If they want me, let 'em come for me! + + [MRS. JONES stops cooking and stands unmoving at the table.] + +I've tried and done with it, I tell you. I've never been afraid of +what 's before me. You mark my words--if you think they've broke my +spirit, you're mistook. I 'll lie and rot sooner than arsk 'em +again. What makes you stand like that--you long-sufferin', +Gawd-forsaken image--that's why I can't keep my hands off you. So +now you know. Work! You can work, but you have n't the spirit of a +louse! + +MRS. JONES. [Quietly.] You talk more wild sometimes when you're +yourself, James, than when you 're not. If you don't get work, how +are we to go on? They won't let us stay here; they're looking to +their money to-day, I know. + +JONES. I see this BARTHWICK o' yours every day goin' down to +Pawlyment snug and comfortable to talk his silly soul out; an' I see +that young calf, his son, swellin' it about, and goin' on the +razzle-dazzle. Wot 'ave they done that makes 'em any better than +wot I am? They never did a day's work in their lives. I see 'em +day after day. + +MRS. JONES. And I wish you wouldn't come after me like that, and +hang about the house. You don't seem able to keep away at all, and +whatever you do it for I can't think, because of course they notice +it. + +JONES. I suppose I may go where I like. Where may I go? The other +day I went to a place in the Edgware Road. "Gov'nor," I says to the +boss, "take me on," I says. "I 'aven't done a stroke o' work not +these two months; it takes the heart out of a man," I says; "I 'm +one to work; I 'm not afraid of anything you can give me!" "My good +man," 'e says, "I 've had thirty of you here this morning. I took +the first two," he says, "and that's all I want." "Thank you, then +rot the world!" I says. "Blasphemin'," he says, "is not the way to +get a job. Out you go, my lad!" [He laughs sardonically.] Don't +you raise your voice because you're starvin'; don't yer even think +of it; take it lyin' down! Take it like a sensible man, carn't you? +And a little way down the street a lady says to me: [Pinching his +voice] "D' you want to earn a few pence, my man?" and gives me her +dog to 'old outside a shop-fat as a butler 'e was--tons o' meat had +gone to the makin' of him. It did 'er good, it did, made 'er feel +'erself that charitable, but I see 'er lookin' at the copper +standin' alongside o' me, for fear I should make off with 'er +bloomin' fat dog. [He sits on the edge of the bed and puts a boot +on. Then looking up.] What's in that head o' yours? [Almost +pathetically.] Carn't you speak for once? + + [There is a knock, and MRS. SEDDON, the landlady, appears, an + anxious, harassed, shabby woman in working clothes.] + +MRS. SEDDON. I thought I 'eard you come in, Mrs. Jones. I 've +spoke to my 'usband, but he says he really can't afford to wait +another day. + +JONES. [With scowling jocularity.] Never you mind what your +'usband says, you go your own way like a proper independent woman. +Here, jenny, chuck her that. + + [Producing a sovereign from his trousers pocket, he throws it + to his wife, who catches it in her apron with a gasp. JONES + resumes the lacing of his boots.] + +MRS. JONES. [Rubbing the sovereign stealthily.] I'm very sorry +we're so late with it, and of course it's fourteen shillings, so if +you've got six that will be right. + + [MRS. SEDDON takes the sovereign and fumbles for the change.] + +JONES. [With his eyes fixed on his boots.] Bit of a surprise for +yer, ain't it? + +MRS. SEDDON. Thank you, and I'm sure I'm very much obliged. [She +does indeed appear surprised.] I 'll bring you the change. + +JONES. [Mockingly.] Don't mention it. + +MRS. SEDDON. Thank you, and I'm sure I'm very much obliged. [She +slides away.] + + [MRS. JONES gazes at JONES who is still lacing up his boots.] + +JONES. I 've had a bit of luck. [Pulling out the crimson purse and +some loose coins.] Picked up a purse--seven pound and more. + +MRS. JONES. Oh, James! + +JONES. Oh, James! What about Oh, James! I picked it up I tell +you. This is lost property, this is! + +MRS. JONES. But is n't there a name in it, or something? + +JONES. Name? No, there ain't no name. This don't belong to such +as 'ave visitin' cards. This belongs to a perfec' lidy. Tike an' +smell it. [He pitches her the purse, which she puts gently to her +nose.] Now, you tell me what I ought to have done. You tell me +that. You can always tell me what I ought to ha' done, can't yer? + +MRS. JONES. [Laying down the purse.] I can't say what you ought to +have done, James. Of course the money was n't yours; you've taken +somebody else's money. + +JONES. Finding's keeping. I 'll take it as wages for the time I +'ve gone about the streets asking for what's my rights. I'll take +it for what's overdue, d' ye hear? [With strange triumph.] I've +got money in my pocket, my girl. + + [MRS. JONES goes on again with the preparation of the meal, + JONES looking at her furtively.] + +Money in my pocket! And I 'm not goin' to waste it. With this 'ere +money I'm goin' to Canada. I'll let you have a pound. + + [A silence.] + +You've often talked of leavin' me. You 've often told me I treat +you badly--well I 'ope you 'll be glad when I 'm gone. + +MRS. JONES. [Impassively.] You have, treated me very badly, James, +and of course I can't prevent your going; but I can't tell whether I +shall be glad when you're gone. + +JONES. It'll change my luck. I 've 'ad nothing but bad luck since +I first took up with you. [More softly.] And you've 'ad no +bloomin' picnic. + +MRS. JONES. Of course it would have been better for us if we had +never met. We were n't meant for each other. But you're set +against me, that's what you are, and you have been for a long time. +And you treat me so badly, James, going after that Rosie and all. +You don't ever seem to think of the children that I 've had to bring +into the world, and of all the trouble I 've had to keep them, and +what 'll become of them when you're gone. + +JONES. [Crossing the room gloomily.] If you think I want to leave +the little beggars you're bloomin' well mistaken. + +MRS. JONES. Of course I know you're fond of them. + +JONES. [Fingering the purse, half angrily.] Well, then, you stow +it, old girl. The kids 'll get along better with you than when I 'm +here. If I 'd ha' known as much as I do now, I 'd never ha' had one +o' them. What's the use o' bringin' 'em into a state o' things like +this? It's a crime, that's what it is; but you find it out too late; +that's what's the matter with this 'ere world. + + [He puts the purse back in his pocket.] + +MRS. JONES. Of course it would have been better for them, poor +little things; but they're your own children, and I wonder at you +talkin' like that. I should miss them dreadfully if I was to lose +them. + +JONES. [Sullenly.] An' you ain't the only one. If I make money +out there--[Looking up, he sees her shaking out his coat--in a +changed voice.] Leave that coat alone! + + [The silver box drops from the pocket, scattering the + cigarettes upon the bed. Taking up the box she stares at it; + he rushes at her and snatches the box away.] + +MRS. JONES. [Cowering back against the bed.] Oh, Jem! oh, Jem! + +JONES. [Dropping the box onto the table.] You mind what you're +sayin'! When I go out I 'll take and chuck it in the water along +with that there purse. I 'ad it when I was in liquor, and for what +you do when you 're in liquor you're not responsible-and that's +Gawd's truth as you ought to know. I don't want the thing--I won't +have it. I took it out o' spite. I 'm no thief, I tell you; and +don't you call me one, or it'll be the worse for you. + +MRS. JONES. [Twisting her apron strings.] It's Mr. Barthwick's! +You've taken away my reputation. Oh, Jem, whatever made you? + +JONES. What d' you mean? + +MRS. JONES. It's been missed; they think it's me. Oh! whatever +made you do it, Jem? + +JONES. I tell you I was in liquor. I don't want it; what's the +good of it to me? If I were to pawn it they'd only nab me. I 'm no +thief. I 'm no worse than wot that young Barthwick is; he brought +'ome that purse that I picked up--a lady's purse--'ad it off 'er in +a row, kept sayin' 'e 'd scored 'er off. Well, I scored 'im off. +Tight as an owl 'e was! And d' you think anything'll happen to him? + +MRS. JONES. [As though speaking to herself.] Oh, Jem! it's the +bread out of our mouths! + +JONES. Is it then? I'll make it hot for 'em yet. What about that +purse? What about young BARTHWICK? + +[MRS. JONES comes forward to the table and tries to take the box; +JONES prevents her.] What do you want with that? You drop it, I +say! + +MRS. JONES. I 'll take it back and tell them all about it. [She +attempts to wrest the box from him.] + +JONES. Ah, would yer? + + [He drops the box, and rushes on her with a snarl. She slips + back past the bed. He follows; a chair is overturned. The + door is opened; Snow comes in, a detective in plain clothes and + bowler hat, with clipped moustaches. JONES drops his arms, + MRS. JONES stands by the window gasping; SNOW, advancing + swiftly to the table, puts his hand on the silver box.] + +SNOW. Doin' a bit o' skylarkin'? Fancy this is what I 'm after. +J. B., the very same. [He gets back to the door, scrutinising the +crest and cypher on the box. To MRS. JONES.] I'm a police officer. +Are you Mrs. Jones? + +MRS. JONES. Yes, Sir. + +SNOW. My instructions are to take you on a charge of stealing this +box from J. BARTHWICK, Esquire, M.P., of 6, Rockingham Gate. +Anything you say may be used against you. Well, Missis? + +MRS. JONES. [In her quiet voice, still out of breath, her hand +upon her breast.] Of course I did not take it, sir. I never have +taken anything that did n't belong to me; and of course I know +nothing about it. + +SNOW. You were at the house this morning; you did the room in which +the box was left; you were alone in the room. I find the box 'ere. +You say you did n't take it? + +MRS. JONES. Yes, sir, of course I say I did not take it, because I +did not. + +SNOW. Then how does the box come to be here? + +MRS. JONES. I would rather not say anything about it. + +SNOW. Is this your husband? + +MRS. JONES. Yes, sir, this is my husband, sir. + +SNOW. Do you wish to say anything before I take her? + + [JONES remains silent, with his head bend down.] + +Well then, Missis. I 'll just trouble you to come along with me +quietly. + +MRS. JONES. [Twisting her hands.] Of course I would n't say I had +n't taken it if I had--and I did n't take it, indeed I did n't. Of +course I know appearances are against me, and I can't tell you what +really happened: But my children are at school, and they'll be +coming home--and I don't know what they'll do without me. + +SNOW. Your 'usband'll see to them, don't you worry. [He takes the +woman gently by the arm.] + +JONES. You drop it--she's all right! [Sullenly.] I took the thing +myself. + +SNOW. [Eyeing him] There, there, it does you credit. Come along, +Missis. + +JONES. [Passionately.] Drop it, I say, you blooming teck. She's +my wife; she 's a respectable woman. Take her if you dare! + +SNOW. Now, now. What's the good of this? Keep a civil tongue, and +it'll be the better for all of us. + + [He puts his whistle in his mouth and draws the woman to the + door.] + +JONES. [With a rush.] Drop her, and put up your 'ands, or I 'll +soon make yer. You leave her alone, will yer! Don't I tell yer, I +took the thing myself. + +SNOW. [Blowing his whistle.] Drop your hands, or I 'll take you +too. Ah, would you? + + [JONES, closing, deals him a blow. A Policeman in uniform + appears; there is a short struggle and JONES is overpowered. + MRS. JONES raises her hands avid drops her face on them.] + + + The curtain falls. + + + + +SCENE II + + The BARTHWICKS' dining-room the same evening. The BARTHWICKS + are seated at dessert. + +MRS. BARTHWICK. John! [A silence broken by the cracking of nuts.] +John! + +BARTHWICK. I wish you'd speak about the nuts they're uneatable. +[He puts one in his mouth.] + +MRS. BARTHWICK. It's not the season for them. I called on the +Holyroods. + + [BARTHWICK fills his glass with port.] + +JACK. Crackers, please, Dad. + + [BARTHWICK passes the crackers. His demeanour is reflective.] + +MRS. BARTHWICK. Lady Holyrood has got very stout. I 've noticed it +coming for a long time. + +BARTHWICK. [Gloomily.] Stout? [He takes up the crackers--with +transparent airiness.] The Holyroods had some trouble with their +servants, had n't they? + +JACK. Crackers, please, Dad. + +BARTHWICK. [Passing the crackers.] It got into the papers. The +cook, was n't it? + +MRS. BARTHWICK. No, the lady's maid. I was talking it over with +Lady Holyrood. The girl used to have her young man to see her. + +BARTHWICK. [Uneasily.] I'm not sure they were wise---- + +MRS. BARTHWICK. My dear John, what are you talking about? How +could there be any alternative? Think of the effect on the other +servants! + +BARTHWICK. Of course in principle--I wasn't thinking of that. + +JACK. [Maliciously.] Crackers, please, Dad. + + [BARTHWICK is compelled to pass the crackers.] + +MRS. BARTHWICK. Lady Holyrood told me: "I had her up," she said; "I +said to her, 'You'll leave my house at once; I think your conduct +disgraceful. I can't tell, I don't know, and I don't wish to know, +what you were doing. I send you away on principle; you need not +come to me for a character.' And the girl said: 'If you don't give +me my notice, my lady, I want a month's wages. I'm perfectly +respectable. I've done nothing.'"'--Done nothing! + +BARTHWICK. H'm! + +MRS. BARTHWICK. Servants have too much license. They hang together +so terribly you never can tell what they're really thinking; it's as +if they were all in a conspiracy to keep you in the dark. Even with +Marlow, you feel that he never lets you know what's really in his +mind. I hate that secretiveness; it destroys all confidence. I +feel sometimes I should like to shake him. + +JACK. Marlow's a most decent chap. It's simply beastly every one +knowing your affairs. + +BARTHWICK. The less you say about that the better! + +MRS. BARTHWICK. It goes all through the lower classes. You can not +tell when they are speaking the truth. To-day when I was shopping +after leaving the Holyroods, one of these unemployed came up and +spoke to me. I suppose I only had twenty yards or so to walk to the +carnage, but he seemed to spring up in the street. + +BARTHWICK. Ah! You must be very careful whom you speak to in these +days. + +MRS. BARTHWICK. I did n't answer him, of course. But I could see +at once that he wasn't telling the truth. + +BARTHWICK. [Cracking a nut.] There's one very good rule--look at +their eyes. + +JACK. Crackers, please, Dad. + +BARTHWICK. [Passing the crackers.] If their eyes are +straight-forward I sometimes give them sixpence. It 's against my +principles, but it's most difficult to refuse. If you see that +they're desperate, and dull, and shifty-looking, as so many of them +are, it's certain to mean drink, or crime, or something +unsatisfactory. + +MRS. BARTHWICK. This man had dreadful eyes. He looked as if he +could commit a murder. "I 've 'ad nothing to eat to-day," he said. +Just like that. + +BARTHWICK. What was William about? He ought to have been waiting. + +JACK. [Raising his wine-glass to his nose.] Is this the '63, Dad? + + [BARTHWICK, holding his wine-glass to his eye, lowers it and + passes it before his nose.] + +MRS. BARTHWICK. I hate people that can't speak the truth. [Father +and son exchange a look behind their port.] It 's just as easy to +speak the truth as not. I've always found it easy enough. It makes +it impossible to tell what is genuine; one feels as if one were +continually being taken in. + +BARTHWICK. [Sententiously.] The lower classes are their own +enemies. If they would only trust us, they would get on so much +better. + +MRS. BARTHWICK. But even then it's so often their own fault. Look +at that Mrs. Jones this morning. + +BARTHWICK. I only want to do what's right in that matter. I had +occasion to see Roper this afternoon. I mentioned it to him. He's +coming in this evening. It all depends on what the detective says. +I've had my doubts. I've been thinking it over. + +MRS. BARTHWICK. The woman impressed me most unfavourably. She +seemed to have no shame. That affair she was talking about--she and +the man when they were young, so immoral! And before you and Jack! +I could have put her out of the room! + +BARTHWICK. Oh! I don't want to excuse them, but in looking at +these matters one must consider---- + +MRS. BARTHWICK. Perhaps you'll say the man's employer was wrong in +dismissing him? + +BARTHWICK. Of course not. It's not there that I feel doubt. What +I ask myself is---- + +JACK. Port, please, Dad. + +BARTHWICK. [Circulating the decanter in religious imitation of the +rising and setting of the sun.] I ask myself whether we are +sufficiently careful in making inquiries about people before we +engage them, especially as regards moral conduct. + +JACK. Pass the-port, please, Mother! + +MRS. BARTHWICK. [Passing it.] My dear boy, are n't you drinking +too much? + + [JACK fills his glass.] + +MARLOW. [Entering.] Detective Snow to see you, Sir. + +BARTHWICK. [Uneasily.] Ah! say I'll be with him in a minute. + +MRS. BARTHWICK. [Without turning.] Let him come in here, Marlow. + + [SNOW enters in an overcoat, his bowler hat in hand.] + +BARTHWICK. [Half-rising.] Oh! Good evening! + +SNOW. Good evening, sir; good evening, ma'am. I 've called round to +report what I 've done, rather late, I 'm afraid--another case took +me away. [He takes the silver box out o f his pocket, causing a +sensation in the BARTHWICK family.] This is the identical article, +I believe. + +BARTHWICK. Certainly, certainly. + +SNOW. Havin' your crest and cypher, as you described to me, sir, I +'d no hesitation in the matter. + +BARTHWICK. Excellent. Will you have a glass of [he glances at the +waning port]--er--sherry-[pours out sherry]. Jack, just give Mr. +Snow this. + + [JACK rises and gives the glass to SNOW; then, lolling in his + chair, regards him indolently.] + +SNOW. [Drinking off wine and putting down the glass.] After seeing +you I went round to this woman's lodgings, sir. It's a low +neighborhood, and I thought it as well to place a constable below +--and not without 'e was wanted, as things turned out. + +BARTHWICK. Indeed! + +SNOW. Yes, Sir, I 'ad some trouble. I asked her to account for the +presence of the article. She could give me no answer, except to +deny the theft; so I took her into custody; then her husband came +for me, so I was obliged to take him, too, for assault. He was very +violent on the way to the station--very violent--threatened you and +your son, and altogether he was a handful, I can till you. + +MRS. BARTHWICK. What a ruffian he must be! + +SNOW. Yes, ma'am, a rough customer. + +JACK. [Sipping his mine, bemused.] Punch the beggar's head. + +SNOW. Given to drink, as I understand, sir. + +MRS. BARTHWICK. It's to be hoped he will get a severe punishment. + +SNOW. The odd thing is, sir, that he persists in sayin' he took the +box himself. + +BARTHWICK. Took the box himself! [He smiles.] What does he think +to gain by that? + +SNOW. He says the young gentleman was intoxicated last night + + [JACK stops the cracking of a nut, and looks at SNOW.] + + [BARTHWICK, losing his smile, has put his wine-glass down; + there is a silence--SNOW, looking from face to face, remarks] + +--took him into the house and gave him whisky; and under the +influence of an empty stomach the man says he took the box. + +MRS. BARTHWICK. The impudent wretch! + +BARTHWICK. D' you mean that he--er--intends to put this forward +to-morrow? + +SNOW. That'll be his line, sir; but whether he's endeavouring to +shield his wife, or whether [he looks at JACK] there's something in +it, will be for the magistrate to say. + +MRS. BARTHWICK. [Haughtily.] Something in what? I don't +understand you. As if my son would bring a man like that into the +house! + +BARTHWICK. [From the fireplace, with an effort to be calm.] My son +can speak for himself, no doubt. Well, Jack, what do you say? + +MRS. BARTHWICK. [Sharply.] What does he say? Why, of course, he +says the whole story's stuff! + +JACK. [Embarrassed.] Well, of course, I--of course, I don't know +anything about it. + +MRS. BARTHWICK. I should think not, indeed! [To Snow.] The man is +an audacious ruffian! + +BARTHWICK. [Suppressing jumps.] But in view of my son's saying +there's nothing in this--this fable--will it be necessary to proceed +against the man under the circumstances? + +SNOW. We shall have to charge him with the assault, sir. It would +be as well for your son to come down to the Court. There'll be a +remand, no doubt. The queer thing is there was quite a sum of money +found on him, and a crimson silk purse. + + [BARTHWICK starts; JACK rises and sits dozen again.] + +I suppose the lady has n't missed her purse? + +BARTHWICK. [Hastily.] Oh, no! Oh! No! + +JACK. No! + +MRS. BARTHWICK. [Dreamily.] No! [To SNOW.] I 've been inquiring +of the servants. This man does hang about the house. I shall feel +much safer if he gets a good long sentence; I do think we ought to +be protected against such ruffians. + +BARTHWICK. Yes, yes, of course, on principle but in this case we +have a number of things to think of. [To SNOW.] I suppose, as you +say, the man must be charged, eh? + +SNOW. No question about that, sir. + +BARTHWICK. [Staring gloomily at JACK.] This prosecution goes very +much against the grain with me. I have great sympathy with the +poor. In my position I 'm bound to recognise the distress there is +amongst them. The condition of the people leaves much to be +desired. D' you follow me? I wish I could see my way to drop it. + +MRS. BARTHWICK. [Sharply.] John! it's simply not fair to other +people. It's putting property at the mercy of any one who likes to +take it. + +BARTHWICK. [Trying to make signs to her aside.] I 'm not defending +him, not at all. I'm trying to look at the matter broadly. + +MRS. BARTHWICK. Nonsense, John, there's a time for everything. + +SNOW. [Rather sardonically.] I might point out, sir, that to +withdraw the charge of stealing would not make much difference, +because the facts must come out [he looks significantly at JACK] in +reference to the assault; and as I said that charge will have to go +forward. + +BARTHWICK. [Hastily.] Yes, oh! exactly! It's entirely on the +woman's account--entirely a matter of my own private feelings. + +SNOW. If I were you, sir, I should let things take their course. +It's not likely there'll be much difficulty. These things are very +quick settled. + +BARTHWICK. [Doubtfully.] You think so--you think so? + +JACK. [Rousing himself.] I say, what shall I have to swear to? + +SNOW. That's best known to yourself, sir. [Retreating to the +door.] Better employ a solicitor, sir, in case anything should +arise. We shall have the butler to prove the loss of the article. +You'll excuse me going, I 'm rather pressed to-night. The case may +come on any time after eleven. Good evening, sir; good evening, +ma'am. I shall have to produce the box in court to-morrow, so if +you'll excuse me, sir, I may as well take it with me. + + [He takes the silver box and leaves them with a little bow.] + + [BARTHWICK makes a move to follow him, then dashing his hands + beneath his coat tails, speaks with desperation.] + +BARTHWICK. I do wish you'd leave me to manage things myself. You +will put your nose into matters you know nothing of. A pretty mess +you've made of this! + +MRS. BARTHWICK. [Coldly.] I don't in the least know what you're +talking about. If you can't stand up for your rights, I can. I 've +no patience with your principles, it's such nonsense. + +BARTHWICK. Principles! Good Heavens! What have principles to do +with it for goodness sake? Don't you know that Jack was drunk last +night! + +JACK. Dad! + +MRS. BARTHWICK. [In horror rising.] Jack! + +JACK. Look here, Mother--I had supper. Everybody does. I mean to +say--you know what I mean--it's absurd to call it being drunk. At +Oxford everybody gets a bit "on" sometimes---- + +MRS. BARTHWICK. Well, I think it's most dreadful! If that is +really what you do at Oxford? + +JACK. [Angrily.] Well, why did you send me there? One must do as +other fellows do. It's such nonsense, I mean, to call it being +drunk. Of course I 'm awfully sorry. I 've had such a beastly +headache all day. + +BARTHWICK. Tcha! If you'd only had the common decency to remember +what happened when you came in. Then we should know what truth +there was in what this fellow says--as it is, it's all the most +confounded darkness. + +JACK. [Staring as though at half-formed visions.] I just get a-- +and then--it 's gone---- + +MRS. BARTHWICK. Oh, Jack! do you mean to say you were so tipsy you +can't even remember---- + +JACK. Look here, Mother! Of course I remember I came--I must have +come---- + +BARTHWICK. [Unguardedly, and walking up and down.] Tcha!--and that +infernal purse! Good Heavens! It'll get into the papers. Who on +earth could have foreseen a thing like this? Better to have lost a +dozen cigarette-boxes, and said nothing about it. [To his wife.] +It's all your doing. I told you so from the first. I wish to +goodness Roper would come! + +MRS. BARTHWICK. [Sharply.] I don't know what you're talking about, +John. + +BARTHWICK. [Turning on her.] No, you--you--you don't know +anything! [Sharply.] Where the devil is Roper? If he can see a +way out of this he's a better man than I take him for. I defy any +one to see a way out of it. I can't. + +JACK. Look here, don't excite Dad--I can simply say I was too +beastly tired, and don't remember anything except that I came in and +[in a dying voice] went to bed the same as usual. + +BARTHWICK. Went to bed? Who knows where you went--I 've lost all +confidence. For all I know you slept on the floor. + +JACK. [Indignantly.] I did n't, I slept on the---- + +BARTHWICK. [Sitting on the sofa.] Who cares where you slept; what +does it matter if he mentions the--the--a perfect disgrace? + +MRS. BARTHWICK. What? [A silence.] I insist on knowing. + +JACK. Oh! nothing. + +MRS. BARTHWICK. Nothing? What do you mean by nothing, Jack? +There's your father in such a state about it! + +JACK. It's only my purse. + +MRS. BARTHWICK. Your purse! You know perfectly well you have n't +got one. + +JACK. Well, it was somebody else's--it was all a joke--I did n't +want the beastly thing. + +MRS. BARTHWICK. Do you mean that you had another person's purse, +and that this man took it too? + +BARTHWICK. Tcha! Of course he took it too! A man like that Jones +will make the most of it. It'll get into the papers. + +MRS. BARTHWICK. I don't understand. What on earth is all the fuss +about? [Bending over JACK, and softly.] Jack now, tell me dear! +Don't be afraid. What is it? Come! + +JACK. Oh, don't Mother! + +MRS. BARTHWICK. But don't what, dear? + +JACK. It was pure sport. I don't know how I got the thing. Of +course I 'd had a bit of a row--I did n't know what I was doing--I +was--I Was--well, you know--I suppose I must have pulled the bag out +of her hand. + +MRS. BARTHWICK. Out of her hand? Whose hand? What bag--whose bag? + +JACK. Oh! I don't know--her bag--it belonged to--[in a desperate +and rising voice] a woman. + +MRS. BARTHWICK. A woman? Oh! Jack! No! + +JACK. [Jumping up.] You would have it. I did n't want to tell +you. It's not my fault. + + [The door opens and MARLOW ushers in a man of middle age, + inclined to corpulence, in evening dress. He has a ruddy, thin + moustache, and dark, quick-moving little eyes. His eyebrows + aye Chinese.] + +MARLOW. Mr. Roper, Sir. [He leaves the room.] + +ROPER. [With a quick look round.] How do you do? + + [But neither JACK nor MRS. BARTHWICK make a sign.] + +BARTHWICK. [Hurrying.] Thank goodness you've come, Roper. You +remember what I told you this afternoon; we've just had the +detective here. + +ROPER. Got the box? + +BARTHWICK. Yes, yes, but look here--it was n't the charwoman at +all; her drunken loafer of a husband took the things--he says that +fellow there [he waves his hand at JACK, who with his shoulder +raised, seems trying to ward off a blow] let him into the house last +night. Can you imagine such a thing. + + [Roper laughs. ] + +BARTHWICK. [With excited emphasis.]. It's no laughing matter, +Roper. I told you about that business of Jack's too--don't you see +the brute took both the things--took that infernal purse. It'll get +into the papers. + +ROPER. [Raising his eyebrows.] H'm! The purse! Depravity in high +life! What does your son say? + +BARTHWICK. He remembers nothing. D--n! Did you ever see such a +mess? It 'll get into the papers. + +MRS. BARTHWICK. [With her hand across hey eyes.] Oh! it's not +that---- + + [BARTHWICK and ROPER turn and look at her.] + +BARTHWICK. It's the idea of that woman--she's just heard---- + + [ROPER nods. And MRS. BARTHWICK, setting her lips, gives a + slow look at JACK, and sits down at the table.] + +What on earth's to be done, Roper? A ruffian like this Jones will +make all the capital he can out of that purse. + +MRS. BARTHWICK. I don't believe that Jack took that purse. + +BARTHWICK. What--when the woman came here for it this morning? + +MRS. BARTHWICK. Here? She had the impudence? Why was n't I told? + + [She looks round from face to face--no one answers hey, there + is a pause.] + +BARTHWICK. [Suddenly.] What's to be done, Roper? + +ROPER. [Quietly to JACK.] I suppose you did n't leave your +latch-key in the door? + +JACK. [Sullenly.] Yes, I did. + +BARTHWICK. Good heavens! What next? + +MRS. BARTHWICK. I 'm certain you never let that man into the house, +Jack, it's a wild invention. I'm sure there's not a word of truth +in it, Mr. Roper. + +ROPER. [Very suddenly.] Where did you sleep last night? + +JACK. [Promptly.] On the sofa, there--[hesitating]--that is--I---- + +BARTHWICK. On the sofa? D' you mean to say you did n't go to bed? + +JACK.[Sullenly.] No. + +BARTHWICK. If you don't remember anything, how can you remember +that? + +JACK. Because I woke up there in the morning. + +MRS. BARTHWICK. Oh, Jack! + +BARTHWICK. Good Gracious! + +JACK. And Mrs. Jones saw me. I wish you would n't bait me so. + +ROPER. Do you remember giving any one a drink? + +JACK. By Jove, I do seem to remember a fellow with--a fellow with +[He looks at Roper.] I say, d' you want me----? + +ROPER. [Quick as lightning.] With a dirty face? + +JACK. [With illumination.] I do--I distinctly remember his---- + + [BARTHWICK moves abruptly; MRS. BARTHWICK looks at ROPER + angrily, and touches her son's arm.] + +MRS. BARTHWICK. You don't remember, it's ridiculous! I don't +believe the man was ever here at all. + +BARTHWICK. You must speak the truth, if it is the truth. But if +you do remember such a dirty business, I shall wash my hands of you +altogether. + +JACK. [Glaring at them.] Well, what the devil---- + +MRS. BARTHWICK. Jack! + +JACK. Well, Mother, I--I don't know what you do want. + +MRS. BARTHWICK. We want you to speak the truth and say you never +let this low man into the house. + +BARTHWICK. Of course if you think that you really gave this man +whisky in that disgraceful way, and let him see what you'd been +doing, and were in such a disgusting condition that you don't +remember a word of it---- + +ROPER. [Quick.] I've no memory myself--never had. + +BARTHWICK. [Desperately.] I don't know what you're to say. + +ROPER. [To JACK.] Say nothing at all! Don't put yourself in a +false position. The man stole the things or the woman stole the +things, you had nothing to do with it. You were asleep on the sofa. + +MRS. BARTHWICK. Your leaving the latch-key in the door was quite +bad enough, there's no need to mention anything else. [Touching his +forehead softly.] My dear, how hot your head is! + +JACK. But I want to know what I 'm to do. [Passionately.] I won't +be badgered like this. + + [MRS. BARTHWICK recoils from him.] + +ROPER. [Very quickly.] You forget all about it. You were asleep. + +JACK. Must I go down to the Court to-morrow? + +ROPER. [Shaking his head.] No. + +BARTHWICK. [In a relieved voice.] Is that so? + +ROPER. Yes. + +BARTHWICK. But you'll go, Roper. + +ROPER. Yes. + +JACK. [With wan cheerfulness.] Thanks, awfully! So long as I +don't have to go. [Putting his hand up to his head.] I think if +you'll excuse me--I've had a most beastly day. [He looks from his +father to his mother.] + +MRS. BARTHWICK. [Turning quickly.] Goodnight, my boy. + +JACK. Good-night, Mother. + + [He goes out. MRS. BARTHWICK heaves a sigh. There is a + silence.] + +BARTHWICK. He gets off too easily. But for my money that woman +would have prosecuted him. + +ROPER. You find money useful. + +BARTHWICK. I've my doubts whether we ought to hide the truth---- + +ROPER. There'll be a remand. + +BARTHWICK. What! D' you mean he'll have to appear on the remand. + +ROPER. Yes. + +BARTHWICK. H'm, I thought you'd be able to----Look here, Roper, +you must keep that purse out of the papers. + + [ROPER fixes his little eyes on him and nods.] + +MRS. BARTHWICK. Mr. Roper, don't you think the magistrate ought to +be told what sort of people these Jones's are; I mean about their +immorality before they were married. I don't know if John told you. + +ROPER. Afraid it's not material. + +MRS. BARTHWICK. Not material? + +ROPER. Purely private life! May have happened to the magistrate. + +BARTHWICK. [With a movement as if to shift a burden.] Then you'll +take the thing into your hands? + +ROPER. If the gods are kind. [He holds his hand out.] + +BARTHWICK. [Shaking it dubiously.] Kind eh? What? You going? + +ROPER. Yes. I've another case, something like yours--most +unexpected. + + [He bows to MRS. BARTHWICK, and goes out, followed by + BARTHWICK, talking to the last. MRS. BARTHWICK at the table + bursts into smothered sobs. BARTHWICK returns.] + +BARTHWICK. [To himself.] There'll be a scandal! + +MRS. BARTHWICK. [Disguising her grief at once.] I simply can't +imagine what Roper means by making a joke of a thing like that! + +BARTHWICK. [Staring strangely.] You! You can't imagine anything! +You've no more imagination than a fly! + +MRS. BARTHWICK. [Angrily.] You dare to tell me that I have no +imagination. + +BARTHWICK. [Flustered.] I--I 'm upset. From beginning to end, the +whole thing has been utterly against my principles. + +MRS. BARTHWICK. Rubbish! You have n't any! Your principles are +nothing in the world but sheer fright! + +BARTHWICK. [Walking to the window.] I've never been frightened in +my life. You heard what Roper said. It's enough to upset one when +a thing like this happens. Everything one says and does seems to +turn in one's mouth--it's--it's uncanny. It's not the sort of thing +I've been accustomed to. [As though stifling, he throws the window +open. The faint sobbing of a child comes in.] What's that? + + [They listen.] + +MRS. BARTHWICK. [Sharply.] I can't stand that crying. I must send +Marlow to stop it. My nerves are all on edge. [She rings the +bell.] + +BARTHWICK. I'll shut the window; you'll hear nothing. [He shuts +the window. There is silence.] + +MRS. BARTHWICK. [Sharply.] That's no good! It's on my nerves. +Nothing upsets me like a child's crying. + + [MARLOW comes in.] + +What's that noise of crying, Marlow? It sounds like a child. + +BARTHWICK. It is a child. I can see it against the railings. + +MARLOW. [Opening the window, and looking out quietly.] It's Mrs. +Jones's little boy, ma'am; he came here after his mother. + +MRS. BARTHWICK. [Moving quickly to the window.] Poor little chap! +John, we ought n't to go on with this! + +BARTHWICK. [Sitting heavily in a chair.] Ah! but it's out of our +hands! + + [MRS. BARTHWICK turns her back to the window. There is an + expression of distress on hey face. She stands motionless, + compressing her lips. The crying begins again. BARTHWICK + coveys his ears with his hands, and MARLOW shuts the window. + The crying ceases.] + + + The curtain falls. + + + + +ACT III + + Eight days have passed, and the scene is a London Police Court + at one o'clock. A canopied seat of Justice is surmounted by + the lion and unicorn. Before the fire a worn-looking + MAGISTRATE is warming his coat-tails, and staring at two little + girls in faded blue and orange rags, who are placed before the + dock. Close to the witness-box is a RELIEVING OFFICER in an + overcoat, and a short brown beard. Beside the little girls + stands a bald POLICE CONSTABLE. On the front bench are sitting + BARTHWICK and ROPER, and behind them JACK. In the railed + enclosure are seedy-looking men and women. Some prosperous + constables sit or stand about. + +MAGISTRATE. [In his paternal and ferocious voice, hissing his s's.] +Now let us dispose of these young ladies. + +USHER. Theresa Livens, Maud Livens. + + [The bald CONSTABLE indicates the little girls, who remain + silent, disillusioned, inattentive.] + +Relieving Officer! + + [The RELIEVING OFFICER Steps into the witness-box.] + +USHER. The evidence you give to the Court shall be the truth, the +whole truth, and nothing but the truth, so help you God! Kiss the +book! + + [The book is kissed.] + +RELIEVING OFFICER. [In a monotone, pausing slightly at each +sentence end, that his evidence may be inscribed.] About ten +o'clock this morning, your Worship, I found these two little girls +in Blue Street, Fulham, crying outside a public-house. Asked where +their home was, they said they had no home. Mother had gone away. +Asked about their father. Their father had no work. Asked where +they slept last night. At their aunt's. I 've made inquiries, your +Worship. The wife has broken up the home and gone on the streets. +The husband is out of work and living in common lodging-houses. The +husband's sister has eight children of her own, and says she can't +afford to keep these little girls any longer. + +MAGISTRATE. [Returning to his seat beneath the canopy of justice.] +Now, let me see. You say the mother is on the streets; what +evidence have you of that? + +RELIEVING OFFICER. I have the husband here, your Worship. + +MAGISTRATE. Very well; then let us see him. + + [There are cries of "LIVENS." The MAGISTRATE leans forward, + and stares with hard compassion at the little girls. LIVENS + comes in. He is quiet, with grizzled hair, and a muffler for a + collar. He stands beside the witness-box.] + +And you, are their father? Now, why don't you keep your little +girls at home. How is it you leave them to wander about the streets +like this? + +LIVENS. I've got no home, your Worship. I'm living from 'and to +mouth. I 've got no work; and nothin' to keep them on. + +MAGISTRATE. How is that? + +LIVENS. [Ashamedly.] My wife, she broke my 'ome up, and pawned the +things. + +MAGISTRATE. But what made you let her? + +LEVINS. Your Worship, I'd no chance to stop 'er, she did it when I +was out lookin' for work. + +MAGISTRATE. Did you ill-treat her? + +LIVENS. [Emphatically.] I never raised my 'and to her in my life, +your Worship. + +MAGISTRATE. Then what was it--did she drink? + +LIVENS. Yes, your Worship. + +MAGISTRATE. Was she loose in her behaviour? + +LIVENS. [In a low voice.] Yes, your Worship. + +MAGISTRATE. And where is she now? + +LIVENS. I don't know your Worship. She went off with a man, and +after that I---- + +MAGISTRATE. Yes, yes. Who knows anything of her? [To the bald +CONSTABLE.] Is she known here? + +RELIEVING OFFICER. Not in this district, your Worship; but I have +ascertained that she is well known---- + +MAGISTRATE. Yes--yes; we'll stop at that. Now [To the Father] you +say that she has broken up your home, and left these little girls. +What provision can you make for them? You look a strong man. + +LIVENS. So I am, your Worship. I'm willin' enough to work, but for +the life of me I can't get anything to do. + +MAGISTRATE. But have you tried? + +LIVENS. I've tried everything, your Worship--I 've tried my +'ardest. + +MAGISTRATE. Well, well---- [There is a silence.] + +RELIEVING OFFICER. If your Worship thinks it's a case, my people are +willing to take them. + +MAGISTRATE. Yes, yes, I know; but I've no evidence that this man is +not the proper guardian for his children. + + [He rises oval goes back to the fire.] + +RELIEVING OFFICER. The mother, your Worship, is able to get access +to them. + +MAGISTRATE. Yes, yes; the mother, of course, is an improper person +to have anything to do with them. [To the Father.] Well, now what +do you say? + +LIVENS. Your Worship, I can only say that if I could get work I +should be only too willing to provide for them. But what can I do, +your Worship? Here I am obliged to live from 'and to mouth in these +'ere common lodging-houses. I 'm a strong man--I'm willing to work +--I'm half as alive again as some of 'em--but you see, your Worship, +my 'airs' turned a bit, owing to the fever--[Touches his hair]--and +that's against me; and I don't seem to get a chance anyhow. + +MAGISTRATE. Yes-yes. [Slowly.] Well, I think it 's a case. +[Staring his hardest at the little girls.] Now, are you willing +that these little girls should be sent to a home. + +LIVENS. Yes, your Worship, I should be very willing. + +MAGISTRATE. Well, I'll remand them for a week. Bring them again +to-day week; if I see no reason against it then, I 'll make an +order. + +RELIEVING OFFICER. To-day week, your Worship. + + [The bald CONSTABLE takes the little girls out by the + shoulders. The father follows them. The MAGISTRATE, returning + to his seat, bends over and talks to his CLERK inaudibly.] + +BARTHWICK. [Speaking behind his hand.] A painful case, Roper; very +distressing state of things. + +ROPER. Hundreds like this in the Police Courts. + +BARTHWICK. Most distressing! The more I see of it, the more +important this question of the condition of the people seems to +become. I shall certainly make a point of taking up the cudgels in +the House. I shall move---- + + [The MAGISTRATE ceases talking to his CLERK.] + +CLERK. Remands! + + [BARTHWICK stops abruptly. There is a stir and MRS. JONES + comes in by the public door; JONES, ushered by policemen, comes + from the prisoner's door. They file into the dock.] + +CLERK. James Jones, Jane Jones. + +USHER. Jane Jones! + +BARTHWICK. [In a whisper.] The purse--the purse must be kept out +of it, Roper. Whatever happens you must keep that out of the +papers. + + [ROPER nods.] + +BALD CONSTABLE. Hush! + + [MRS. JONES, dressed in hey thin, black, wispy dress, and black + straw hat, stands motionless with hands crossed on the front + rail of the dock. JONES leans against the back rail of the + dock, and keeps half turning, glancing defiantly about him. He + is haggard and unshaven.] + +CLERK. [Consulting with his papers.] This is the case remanded +from last Wednesday, Sir. Theft of a silver cigarette-box and +assault on the police; the two charges were taken together. Jane +Jones! James Jones! + +MAGISTRATE. [Staring.] Yes, yes; I remember. + +CLERK. Jane Jones. + +MRS. JONES. Yes, Sir. + +CLERK. Do you admit stealing a silver cigarette-box valued at five +pounds, ten shillings, from the house of John BARTHWICK, M.P., +between the hours of 11 p.m. on Easter Monday and 8.45 a.m. on +Easter Tuesday last? Yes, or no? + +MRS. JONES. [In a logy voice.] No, Sir, I do not, sir. + +CLERK. James Jones? Do you admit stealing a silver cigarette-box +valued at five pounds, ten shillings, from the house of John +BARTHWICK, M.P., between the hours of 11 p.m. on Easter Monday and +8.45 A.M. on Easter Tuesday last. And further making an assault on +the police when in the execution of their duty at 3 p.m. on Easter +Tuesday? Yes or no? + +JONES. [Sullenly.] Yes, but I've got a lot to say about it. + +MAGISTRATE. [To the CLERK.] Yes--yes. But how comes it that these +two people are charged with the same offence? Are they husband and +wife? + +CLERK. Yes, Sir. You remember you ordered a remand for further +evidence as to the story of the male prisoner. + +MAGISTRATE. Have they been in custody since? + +CLERK. You released the woman on her own recognisances, sir. + +MAGISTRATE. Yes, yes, this is the case of the silver box; I +remember now. Well? + +CLERK. Thomas Marlow. + + [The cry of "THOMAS MARLOW" is repeated MARLOW comes in, and + steps into the witness-box.] + +USHER. The evidence you give to the court shall be the truth, the +whole truth, and nothing but the truth, so help you God. Kiss the +book. + + [The book is kissed. The silver box is handed up, and placed + on the rail.] + +CLERK. [Reading from his papers.] Your name is Thomas Marlow? Are +you, butler to John BARTHWICK, M.P., of 6, Rockingham Gate? + +MARLOW. Yes, Sir. + +CLERK. Is that the box? + +MARLOW. Yes Sir. + +CLERK. And did you miss the same at 8.45 on the following morning, +on going to remove the tray? + +MARLOW. Yes, Sir. + +CLERK. Is the female prisoner known to you? + + [MARLOW nods.] + +Is she the charwoman employed at 6, Rockingham Gate? + + [Again MARLOW nods.] + +Did you at the time of your missing the box find her in the room +alone? + +MARLOW. Yes, Sir. + +CLERK. Did you afterwards communicate the loss to your employer, +and did he send you to the police station? + +MARLOW. Yes, Sir. + +CLERK. [To MRS. JONES.] Have you anything to ask him? + +MRS. JONES. No, sir, nothing, thank you, sir. + +CLERK. [To JONES.] James Jones, have you anything to ask this +witness? + +JONES. I don't know 'im. + +MAGISTRATE. Are you sure you put the box in the place you say at +the time you say? + +MARLOW. Yes, your Worship. + +MAGISTRATE. Very well; then now let us have the officer. + + [MARLOW leaves the box, and Snow goes into it.] + +USHER. The evidence you give to the court shall be the truth, the +whole truth, and nothing but the truth, so help you God. [The book +is kissed.] + +CLERK. [Reading from his papers.] Your name is Robert Allow? You +are a detective in the X. B. division of the Metropolitan police +force? According to instructions received did you on Easter Tuesday +last proceed to the prisoner's lodgings at 34, Merthyr Street, St. +Soames's? And did you on entering see the box produced, lying on +the table? + +SNOW. Yes, Sir. + +CLERK. Is that the box? + +Snow. [Fingering the box.] Yes, Sir. + +CLERK. And did you thereupon take possession of it, and charge the +female prisoner with theft of the box from 6, Rockingham Gate? And +did she deny the same? + +SNOW. Yes, Sir. + +CLERK. Did you take her into custody? + +Snow. Yes, Sir. + +MAGISTRATE. What was her behaviour? + +SNOW. Perfectly quiet, your Worship. She persisted in the denial. +That's all. + +MAGISTRATE. DO you know her? + +SNOW. No, your Worship. + +MAGISTRATE. Is she known here? + +BALD CONSTABLE. No, your Worship, they're neither of them known, +we 've nothing against them at all. + +CLERK. [To MRS. JONES.] Have you anything to ask the officer? + +MRS. JONES. No, sir, thank you, I 've nothing to ask him. + +MAGISTRATE. Very well then--go on. + +CLERK. [Reading from his papers.] And while you were taking the +female prisoner did the male prisoner interpose, and endeavour to +hinder you in the execution of your duty, and did he strike you a +blow? + +SNOW. Yes, Sir. + +CLERK. And did he say, "You, let her go, I took the box myself"? + +SNOW. He did. + +CLERK. And did you blow your whistle and obtain the assistance of +another constable, and take him into custody? + +SNOW. I did. + +CLERK. Was he violent on the way to the station, and did he use bad +language, and did he several times repeat that he had taken the box +himself? + + [Snow nods.] + +Did you thereupon ask him in what manner he had stolen the box? And +did you understand him to say he had entered the house at the +invitation of young Mr. BARTHWICK + + [BARTHWICK, turning in his seat, frowns at ROPER.] + +after midnight on Easter Monday, and partaken of whisky, and that +under the influence of the whisky he had taken the box? + +SNOW. I did, sir. + +CLERK. And was his demeanour throughout very violent? + +SNOW. It was very violent. + +JONES. [Breaking in.] Violent---of course it was! You put your +'ands on my wife when I kept tellin' you I took the thing myself. + +MAGISTRATE. [Hissing, with protruded neck.] Now--you will have +your chance of saying what you want to say presently. Have you +anything to ask the officer? + +JONES. [Sullenly.] No. + +MAGISTRATE. Very well then. Now let us hear what the female +prisoner has to say first. + +MRS. JONES. Well, your Worship, of course I can only say what I 've +said all along, that I did n't take the box. + +MAGISTRATE. Yes, but did you know that it was taken? + +MRS. JONES. No, your Worship. And, of course, to what my husband +says, your Worship, I can't speak of my own knowledge. Of course, I +know that he came home very late on the Monday night. It was past +one o'clock when he came in, and he was not himself at all. + +MAGISTRATE. Had he been drinking? + +MRS. JONES. Yes, your Worship. + +MAGISTRATE. And was he drunk? + +MRS. JONES. Yes, your Worship, he was almost quite drunk. + +MAGISTRATE. And did he say anything to you? + +MRS. JONES. No, your Worship, only to call me names. And of course +in the morning when I got up and went to work he was asleep. And I +don't know anything more about it until I came home again. Except +that Mr. BARTHWICK--that 's my employer, your Worship--told me the +box was missing. + +MAGISTRATE. Yes, yes. + +MRS. JONES. But of course when I was shaking out my husband's coat +the cigarette-box fell out and all the cigarettes were scattered on +the bed. + +MAGISTRATE. You say all the cigarettes were scattered on the bed? +[To SNOW.] Did you see the cigarettes scattered on the bed? + +SNOW. No, your Worship, I did not. + +MAGISTRATE. You see he says he did n't see them. + +JONES. Well, they were there for all that. + +SNOW. I can't say, your Worship, that I had the opportunity of +going round the room; I had all my work cut out with the male +prisoner. + +MAGISTRATE. [To MRS. JONES.] Well, what more have you to say? + +MRS. JONES. Of course when I saw the box, your Worship, I was +dreadfully upset, and I could n't think why he had done such a +thing; when the officer came we were having words about it, because +it is ruin to me, your Worship, in my profession, and I have three +little children dependent on me. + +MAGISTRATE. [Protruding his neck]. Yes--yes--but what did he say +to you? + +MRS. JONES. I asked him whatever came over him to do such a thing +--and he said it was the drink. He said he had had too much to drink, +and something came over him. And of course, your Worship, he had +had very little to eat all day, and the drink does go to the head +when you have not had enough to eat. Your Worship may not know, but +it is the truth. And I would like to say that all through his +married life, I have never known him to do such a thing before, +though we have passed through great hardships and [speaking with +soft emphasis] I am quite sure he would not have done it if he had +been himself at the time. + +MAGISTRATE. Yes, yes. But don't you know that that is no excuse? + +MRS. JONES. Yes, your Worship. I know that it is no excuse. + + [The MAGISTRATE leans over and parleys with his CLERK.] + +JACK. [Leaning over from his seat behind.] I say, Dad---- + +BARTHWICK. Tsst! [Sheltering his mouth he speaks to ROPER.] +Roper, you had better get up now and say that considering the +circumstances and the poverty of the prisoners, we have no wish to +proceed any further, and if the magistrate would deal with the case +as one of disorder only on the part of---- + +BALD CONSTABLE. HSSShh! + + [ROPER shakes his head.] + +MAGISTRATE. Now, supposing what you say and what your husband says +is true, what I have to consider is--how did he obtain access to +this house, and were you in any way a party to his obtaining access? +You are the charwoman employed at the house? + +MRS. JONES. Yes, your Worship, and of course if I had let him into +the house it would have been very wrong of me; and I have never done +such a thing in any of the houses where I have been employed. + +MAGISTRATE. Well--so you say. Now let us hear what story the male +prisoner makes of it. + +JONES. [Who leans with his arms on the dock behind, speaks in a +slow, sullen voice.] Wot I say is wot my wife says. I 've never +been 'ad up in a police court before, an' I can prove I took it when +in liquor. I told her, and she can tell you the same, that I was +goin' to throw the thing into the water sooner then 'ave it on my +mind. + +MAGISTRATE. But how did you get into the HOUSE? + +JONES. I was passin'. I was goin' 'ome from the "Goat and Bells." + +MAGISTRATE. The "Goat and Bells,"--what is that? A public-house? + +JONES. Yes, at the corner. It was Bank 'oliday, an' I'd 'ad a drop +to drink. I see this young Mr. BARTHWICK tryin' to find the keyhole +on the wrong side of the door. + +MAGISTRATE. Well? + +JONES. [Slowly and with many pauses.] Well---I 'elped 'im to find +it--drunk as a lord 'e was. He goes on, an' comes back again, and +says, I 've got nothin' for you, 'e says, but come in an' 'ave a +drink. So I went in just as you might 'ave done yourself. We 'ad a +drink o' whisky just as you might have 'ad, 'nd young Mr. BARTHWICK +says to me, "Take a drink 'nd a smoke. Take anything you like, 'e +says." And then he went to sleep on the sofa. I 'ad some more +whisky--an' I 'ad a smoke--and I 'ad some more whisky--an' I carn't +tell yer what 'appened after that. + +MAGISTRATE. Do you mean to say that you were so drunk that you can +remember nothing? + +JACK. [Softly to his father.] I say, that's exactly what---- + +BARTHWICK. TSSh! + +JONES. That's what I do mean. + +MAGISTRATE. And yet you say you stole the box? + +JONES. I never stole the box. I took it. + +MAGISTRATE. [Hissing with protruded neck.] You did not steal it-- +you took it. Did it belong to you--what is that but stealing? + +JONES. I took it. + +MAGISTRATE. You took it--you took it away from their house and you +took it to your house---- + +JONES. [Sullenly breaking in.] I ain't got a house. + +MAGISTRATE. Very well, let us hear what this young man Mr.--Mr. +BARTHWICK has to say to your story. + + [SNOW leaves the witness-box. The BALD CONSTABLE beckons JACK, + who, clutching his hat, goes into the witness-box. ROPER moves + to the table set apart for his profession.] + +SWEARING CLERK. The evidence you give to the court shall be the +truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth, so help you God. +Kiss the book. + + [The book is kissed.] + +ROPER. [Examining.] What is your name? + +JACK. [In a low voice.] John BARTHWICK, Junior. + + [The CLERK writes it down.] + +ROPER. Where do you live? + +JACK. At 6, Rockingham Gate. + + [All his answers are recorded by the Clerk.] + +ROPER. You are the son of the owner? + +JACK. [In a very low voice.] Yes. + +ROPER. Speak up, please. Do you know the prisoners? + +JACK. [Looking at the JONESES, in a low voice.] I 've seen Mrs. +Jones. I [in a loud voice] don't know the man. + +JONES. Well, I know you! + +BALD CONSTABLE. HSSh! + +ROPER. Now, did you come in late on the night of Easter Monday? + +JACK. Yes. + +ROPER. And did you by mistake leave your latch key in the door? + +JACK. Yes. + +MAGISTRATE. Oh! You left your latch-key in the door? + +ROPER. And is that all you can remember about your coming in? + +JACK. [In a loud voice.] Yes, it is. + +MAGISTRATE. Now, you have heard the male prisoner's story, what do +you say to that? + +JACK. [Turning to the MAGISTRATE, speaks suddenly in a confident, +straight-forward voice.] The fact of the matter is, sir, that I 'd +been out to the theatre that night, and had supper afterwards, and I +came in late. + +MAGISTRATE. Do you remember this man being outside when you came +in? + +JACK. No, Sir. [He hesitates.] I don't think I do. + +MAGISTRATE. [Somewhat puzzled.] Well, did he help you to open the +door, as he says? Did any one help you to open the door? + +JACK. No, sir--I don't think so, sir--I don't know. + +MAGISTRATE. You don't know? But you must know. It is n't a usual +thing for you to have the door opened for you, is it? + +JACK. [With a shamefaced smile.] No. + +MAGISTRATE. Very well, then---- + +JACK. [Desperately.] The fact of the matter is, sir, I'm afraid +I'd had too much champagne that night. + +MAGISTRATE. [Smiling.] Oh! you'd had too much champagne? + +JONES. May I ask the gentleman a question? + +MAGISTRATE. Yes--yes--you may ask him what questions you like. + +JONES. Don't you remember you said you was a Liberal, same as your +father, and you asked me wot I was? + +JACK. [With his hand against his brow.] I seem to remember---- + +JONES. And I said to you, "I'm a bloomin' Conservative," I said; +an' you said to me, "You look more like one of these 'ere +Socialists. Take wotever you like," you said. + +JACK. [With sudden resolution.] No, I don't. I don't remember +anything of the sort. + +JONES. Well, I do, an' my word's as good as yours. I 've never +been had up in a police court before. Look 'ere, don't you remember +you had a sky-blue bag in your 'and [BARTHWICK jumps.] + +ROPER. I submit to your worship that these questions are hardly to +the point, the prisoner having admitted that he himself does not +remember anything. [There is a smile on the face of Justice.] It +is a case of the blind leading the blind. + +JONES. [Violently.] I've done no more than wot he 'as. I'm a poor +man; I've got no money an' no friends--he 's a toff--he can do wot I +can't. + +MAGISTRATE: Now, now? All this won't help you--you must be quiet. +You say you took this box? Now, what made you take it? Were you +pressed for money? + +JONES. I'm always pressed for money. + +MAGISTRATE. Was that the reason you took it? + +JONES. No. + +MAGISTRATE. [To SNOW.] Was anything found on him? + +SNOW. Yes, your worship. There was six pounds twelve shillin's +found on him, and this purse. + + [The red silk purse is handed to the MAGISTRATE. BARTHWICK + rises his seat, but hastily sits down again.] + +MAGISTRATE. [Staring at the purse.] Yes, yes--let me see [There is +a silence.] No, no, I 've nothing before me as to the purse. How +did you come by all that money? + +JONES. [After a long pause, suddenly.] I declines to say. + +MAGISTRATE. But if you had all that money, what made you take this +box? + +JONES. I took it out of spite. + +MAGISTRATE. [Hissing, with protruded neck.] You took it out of +spite? Well now, that's something! But do you imagine you can go +about the town taking things out of spite? + +JONES. If you had my life, if you'd been out of work---- + +MAGISTRATE. Yes, yes; I know--because you're out of work you think +it's an excuse for everything. + +JONES. [Pointing at JACK.] You ask 'im wot made 'im take the---- + +ROPER. [Quietly.] Does your Worship require this witness in the +box any longer? + +MAGISTRATE. [Ironically.] I think not; he is hardly profitable. + + [JACK leaves the witness-box, and hanging his head, resumes his + seat.] + +JONES. You ask 'im wot made 'im take the lady's---- + + [But the BALD CONSTABLE catches him by the sleeve.] + +BALD CONSTABLE. SSSh! + +MAGISTRATE. [Emphatically.] Now listen to me. + +I 've nothing to do with what he may or may not have taken. Why did +you resist the police in the execution of their duty? + +JONES. It war n't their duty to take my wife, a respectable woman, +that 'ad n't done nothing. + +MAGISTRATE. But I say it was. What made you strike the officer a +blow? + +JONES. Any man would a struck 'im a blow. I'd strike 'im again, I +would. + +MAGISTRATE. You are not making your case any better by violence. +How do you suppose we could get on if everybody behaved like you? + +JONES. [Leaning forward, earnestly.] Well, wot, about 'er; who's +to make up to 'er for this? Who's to give 'er back 'er good name? + +MRS. JONES. Your Worship, it's the children that's preying on his +mind, because of course I 've lost my work. And I've had to find +another room owing to the scandal. + +MAGISTRATE. Yes, yes, I know--but if he had n't acted like this +nobody would have suffered. + +JONES. [Glaring round at JACK.] I 've done no worse than wot 'e +'as. Wot I want to know is wot 's goin' to be done to 'im. + + [The BALD CONSTABLE again says "HSSh"] + +ROPER. Mr. BARTHWICK wishes it known, your Worship, that +considering the poverty of the prisoners, he does not press the +charge as to the box. Perhaps your Worship would deal with the case +as one of disorder. + +JONES. I don't want it smothered up, I want it all dealt with fair +--I want my rights---- + +MAGISTRATE. [Rapping his desk.] Now you have said all you have to +say, and you will be quiet. + + [There is a silence; the MAGISTRATE bends over and parleys with + his CLERK.] + +Yes, I think I may discharge the woman. [In a kindly voice he +addresses MRS. JONES, who stands unmoving with her hands crossed on +the rail.] It is very unfortunate for you that this man has behaved +as he has. It is not the consequences to him but the consequences +to you. You have been brought here twice, you have lost your work-- +[He glares at JONES]--and this is what always happens. Now you may +go away, and I am very sorry it was necessary to bring you here at +all. + +MRS. JONES. [Softly.] Thank you very much, your Worship. + + [She leaves the dock, and looking back at JONES, twists her + fingers and is still.] + +MAGISTRATE. Yes, yes, but I can't pass it over. Go away, there's a +good woman. + + [MRS. JONES stands back. The MAGISTRATE leans his head on his + hand; then raising it he speaks to JONES.] + +Now, listen to me. Do you wish the case to be settled here, or do +you wish it to go before a jury? + +JONES. [Muttering.] I don't want no jury. + +MAGISTRATE. Very well then, I will deal with it here. [After a +pause.] You have pleaded guilty to stealing this box---- + +JONES. Not to stealin'---- + +BALD CONSTABLE. HSSShh! + +MAGISTRATE. And to assaulting the police---- + +JONES. Any man as was a man---- + +MAGISTRATE. Your conduct here has been most improper. You give the +excuse that you were drunk when you stole the box. I tell you that +is no excuse. If you choose to get drunk and break the law +afterwards you must take the consequences. And let me tell you that +men like you, who get drunk and give way to your spite or whatever +it is that's in you, are--are--a nuisance to the community. + +JACK. [Leaning from his seat.] Dad! that's what you said to me! + +BARTHWICK. TSSt! + + [There is a silence, while the MAGISTRATE consults his CLERK; + JONES leans forward waiting.] + +MAGISTRATE. This is your first offence, and I am going to give you +a light sentence. [Speaking sharply, but without expression.] One +month with hard labour. + + [He bends, and parleys with his CLERK. The BALD CONSTABLE and + another help JONES from the dock.] + +JONES. [Stopping and twisting round.] Call this justice? What +about 'im? 'E got drunk! 'E took the purse--'e took the purse but +[in a muffled shout] it's 'is money got 'im off--JUSTICE! + + [The prisoner's door is shut on JONES, and from the + seedy-looking men and women comes a hoarse and whispering groan.] + +MAGISTRATE. We will now adjourn for lunch! [He rises from his +seat.] + + [The Court is in a stir. ROPER gets up and speaks to the + reporter. JACK, throwing up his head, walks with a swagger to + the corridor; BARTHWICK follows.] + +MRS. JONES. [Turning to him zenith a humble gesture.] Oh! sir! + + [BARTHWICK hesitates, then yielding to his nerves, he makes a + shame-faced gesture of refusal, and hurries out of court. MRS. + JONES stands looking after him.] + + + The curtain falls. + + + + + + +JOY + +A PLAY ON THE LETTER "I" + +IN THREE ACTS + + + + +PERSONS OF THE PLAY + +COLONEL HOPE, R.A., retired +MRS. HOPE, his wife +MISS BEECH, their old governess +LETTY, their daughter +ERNEST BLUNT, her husband +MRS. GWYN, their niece +JOY, her daughter +DICK MERTON, their young friend +HON. MAURICE LEVER, their guest +ROSE, their parlour-maid + + + +TIME: The present. The action passes throughout midsummer day on the +lawn of Colonel Hope's house, near the Thames above Oxford. + + +ACT I + + The time is morning, and the scene a level lawn, beyond which + the river is running amongst fields. A huge old beech tree + overshadows everything, in the darkness of whose hollow many + things are hidden. A rustic seat encircles it. A low wall + clothed in creepers, with two openings, divides this lawn from + the flowery approaches to the house. Close to the wall there is + a swing. The sky is clear and sunny. COLONEL HOPE is seated in + a garden-chair, reading a newspaper through pince-nez. He is + fifty-five and bald, with drooping grey moustaches and a + weather-darkened face. He wears a flannel suit and a hat from + Panama; a tennis racquet leans against his chair. MRS. HOPE + comes quickly through the opening of the wall, with roses in her + hands. She is going grey; she wears tan gauntlets, and no hat. + Her manner is decided, her voice emphatic, as though aware that + there is no nonsense in its owner's composition. Screened from + sight, MISS BEECH is seated behind the hollow tree; and JOY is + perched on a lower branch hidden by foliage. + + +MRS. HOPE. I told Molly in my letter that she'd have to walk up, +Tom. + +COLONEL. Walk up in this heat? My dear, why didn't you order +Benson's fly? + +MRS. HOPE. Expense for nothing! Bob can bring up her things in the +barrow. I've told Joy I won't have her going down to meet the train. +She's so excited about her mother's coming there's no doing anything +with her. + +COLONEL. No wonder, after two months. + +MRS. HOPE. Well, she's going home to-morrow; she must just keep +herself fresh for the dancing tonight. I'm not going to get people +in to dance, and have Joy worn out before they begin. + +COLONEL. [Dropping his paper.] I don't like Molly's walking up. + +MRS. HOPE. A great strong woman like Molly Gwyn! It isn't half a +mile. + +COLONEL. I don't like it, Nell; it's not hospitable. + +MRS. HOPE. Rubbish! If you want to throw away money, you must just +find some better investment than those wretched 3 per cents. of +yours. The greenflies are in my roses already! Did you ever see +anything so disgusting? [They bend over the roses they have grown, +and lose all sense of everything.] Where's the syringe? I saw you +mooning about with it last night, Tom. + +COLONEL. [Uneasily.] Mooning! + + [He retires behind his paper. MRS. HOPE enters the hollow of + the tree.] + +There's an account of that West Australian swindle. Set of ruffians! +Listen to this, Nell! "It is understood that amongst the +share-holders are large numbers of women, clergymen, and Army officers." +How people can be such fools! + + [Becoming aware that his absorption is unobserved, he drops his + glasses, and reverses his chair towards the tree.] + +MRS. HOPE. [Reappearing with a garden syringe.] I simply won't have +Dick keep his fishing things in the tree; there's a whole potful of +disgusting worms. I can't touch them. You must go and take 'em out, +Tom. + + [In his turn the COLONEL enters the hollow of the tree.] + +MRS. HOPE. [Personally.] What on earth's the pleasure of it? I +can't see! He never catches anything worth eating. + + [The COLONEL reappears with a paint pot full of worms; he holds + them out abstractedly.] + +MRS. HOPE. [Jumping.] Don't put them near me! + +MISS BEECH. [From behind the tree.] Don't hurt the poor creatures. + +COLONEL. [Turning.] Hallo, Peachey? What are you doing round +there? + + [He puts the worms down on the seat.] + +MRS. HOPE. Tom, take the worms off that seat at once! + +COLONEL. [Somewhat flurried.] Good gad! I don't know what to do +with the beastly worms! + +MRS. HOPE. It's not my business to look after Dick's worms. Don't +put them on the ground. I won't have them anywhere where they can +crawl about. [She flicks some greenflies off her roses.] + +COLONEL. [Looking into the pot as though the worms could tell him +where to put them.] Dash! + +MISS BEECH. Give them to me. + +MRS. HOPE. [Relieved.] Yes, give them to Peachey. + + [There comes from round the tree Miss BEECH, old-fashioned, + barrel-shaped, balloony in the skirts. She takes the paint pot, + and sits beside it on the rustic seat.] + +MISS BEECH. Poor creatures! + +MRS. HOPE. Well, it's beyond me how you can make pets of worms-- +wriggling, crawling, horrible things! + + [ROSE, who is young and comely, in a pale print frock, comes + from the house and places letters before her on a silver + salver.] + + [Taking the letters.] + +What about Miss joy's frock, Rose? + +ROSE. Please, 'm, I can't get on with the back without Miss Joy. + +MRS. HOPE. Well, then you must just find her. I don't know where +she is. + +ROSE. [In a slow, sidelong manner.] If you please, Mum, I think +Miss Joy's up in the---- + + [She stops, seeing Miss BEECH signing to her with both hands.] + +MRS. HOPE. [Sharply.] What is it, Peachey? + +MISS BEECH. [Selecting a finger.] Pricked meself! + +MRS. HOPE. Let's look! + + [She bends to look, but Miss BEECH places the finger in her + mouth.] + +ROSE. [Glancing askance at the COLONEL.] If you please, Mum, it's +below the waist; I think I can manage with the dummy. + +MRS. HOPE. Well, you can try. [Opening her letter as ROSE retires.] +Here's Molly about her train. + +MISS BEECH. Is there a letter for me? + +MRS. HOPE. No, Peachey. + +MISS BEECH. There never is. + +COLONEL. What's that? You got four by the first post. + +MISS BEECH. Exceptions! + +COLONEL. [Looking over his glasses.] Why! You know, you get 'em +every day! + +MRS. HOPE. Molly says she'll be down by the eleven thirty. [In an +injured voice.] She'll be here in half an hour! [Reading with +disapproval from the letter.] "MAURICE LEVER is coming down by the +same train to see Mr. Henty about the Tocopala Gold Mine. Could you +give him a bed for the night?" + + [Silence, slight but ominous.] + +COLONEL. [Calling into his aid his sacred hospitality.] Of course +we must give him a bed! + +MRS. HOPE. Just like a man! What room I should like to know! + +COLONEL. Pink. + +MRS. HOPE. As if Molly wouldn't have the pink! + +COLONEL. [Ruefully.] I thought she'd have the blue! + +MRS. HOPE. You know perfectly well it's full of earwigs, Tom. I +killed ten there yesterday morning. + +MISS BEECH. Poor creatures! + +MRS. HOPE. I don't know that I approve of this Mr. Lever's dancing +attendance. Molly's only thirty-six. + +COLONEL. [In a high voice.] You can't refuse him a bed; I never +heard of such a thing. + +MRS. HOPE. [Reading from the letter.] "This gold mine seems to be a +splendid chance. [She glances at the COLONEL.] I've put all my +spare cash into it. They're issuing some Preference shares now; if +Uncle Tom wants an investment"--[She pauses, then in a changed, +decided voice ]--Well, I suppose I shall have to screw him in +somehow. + +COLONEL. What's that about gold mines? Gambling nonsense! Molly +ought to know my views. + +MRS. HOPE. [Folding the letter away out of her consciousness.] Oh! +your views! This may be a specially good chance. + +MISS BEECH. Ahem! Special case! + +MRS. HOPE. [Paying no attention.] I 'm sick of these 3 per cent. +dividends. When you've only got so little money, to put it all into +that India Stock, when it might be earning 6 per cent. at least, +quite safely! There are ever so many things I want. + +COLONEL. There you go! + +MRS. HOPE. As to Molly, I think it's high time her husband came home +to look after her, instead of sticking out there in that hot place. +In fact + + [Miss BEECH looks up at the tree and exhibits cerebral + excitement] + +I don't know what Geoff's about; why doesn't he find something in +England, where they could live together. + +COLONEL. Don't say anything against Molly, Nell! + +MRS. HOPE. Well, I don't believe in husband and wife being +separated. That's not my idea of married life. + + [The COLONEL whistles quizzically.] + +Ah, yes, she's your niece, not mime! Molly's very---- + +MISS BEECH. Ouch! [She sucks her finger.] + +MRS. HOPE. Well, if I couldn't sew at your age, Peachey, without +pricking my fingers! Tom, if I have Mr. Lever here, you'll just +attend to what I say and look into that mine! + +COLONEL. Look into your grandmother! I have n't made a study of +geology for nothing. For every ounce you take out of a gold mine, +you put an ounce and a half in. Any fool knows that, eh, Peachey? + +MISS BEECH. I hate your horrid mines, with all the poor creatures +underground. + +MRS. HOPE. Nonsense, Peachey! As if they'd go there if they did n't +want to! + +COLONEL. Why don't you read your paper, then you'd see what a lot of +wild-cat things there are about. + +MRS. HOPE. [Abstractedly.] I can't put Ernest and Letty in the blue +room, there's only the single bed. Suppose I put Mr. Lever there, +and say nothing about the earwigs. I daresay he'll never notice. + +COLONEL. Treat a guest like that! + +MRS. HOPE. Then where am I to put him for goodness sake? + +COLONEL. Put him in my dressing-room, I'll turn out. + +MRS. HOPE. Rubbish, Tom, I won't have you turned out, that's flat. +He can have Joy's room, and she can sleep with the earwigs. + +JOY. [From her hiding-place upon a lower branch of the hollow tree.] +I won't. + + [MRS. HOPE and the COLONEL jump.] + +COLONEL. God bless my soul! + +MRS. HOPE. You wretched girl! I told you never to climb that tree +again. Did you know, Peachey? [Miss BEECH smiles.] She's always up +there, spoiling all her frocks. Come down now, Joy; there's a good +child! + +JOY. I don't want to sleep with earwigs, Aunt Nell. + +MISS BEECH. I'll sleep with the poor creatures. + +MRS. HOPE, [After a pause.] Well, it would be a mercy if you would +for once, Peachey. + +COLONEL. Nonsense, I won't have Peachey---- + +MRS. HOPE. Well, who is to sleep there then? + +JOY. [Coaxingly.] Let me sleep with Mother, Aunt Nell, do! + +MRS. HOPE. Litter her up with a great girl like you, as if we'd only +one spare room! Tom, see that she comes down--I can't stay here, I +must manage something. [She goes away towards the house.] + +COLONEL. [Moving to the tree, and looking up.] You heard what your +aunt said? + +JOY. [Softly.] Oh, Uncle Tom! + +COLONEL. I shall have to come up after you. + +JOY. Oh, do, and Peachey too! + +COLONEL. [Trying to restrain a smile.] Peachey, you talk to her. +[Without waiting for MISS BEECH, however, he proceeds.] What'll your +aunt say to me if I don't get you down? + +MISS BEECH. Poor creature! + +JOY. I don't want to be worried about my frock. + +COLONEL. [Scratching his bald head.] Well, I shall catch it. + +JOY. Oh, Uncle Tom, your head is so beautiful from here! [Leaning +over, she fans it with a leafy twig.] + +MISS BEECH. Disrespectful little toad! + +COLONEL. [Quickly putting on his hat.] You'll fall out, and a +pretty mess that'll make on--[he looks uneasily at the ground]--my +lawn! + + [A voice is heard calling "Colonel! Colonel!]" + +JOY. There's Dick calling you, Uncle Tom. + + [She disappears.] + +DICK. [Appearing in the opening of the wall.] Ernie's waiting to +play you that single, Colonel! + + [He disappears.] + +JOY. Quick, Uncle Tom! Oh! do go, before he finds I 'm up here. + +MISS. BEECH. Secret little creature! + + [The COLONEL picks up his racquet, shakes his fist, and goes + away.] + +JOY. [Calmly.] I'm coming down now, Peachey. + + [Climbing down.] + +Look out! I'm dropping on your head. + +MISS BEECH. [Unmoved.] Don't hurt yourself! + + [Joy drops on the rustic seat and rubs her shin. Told you so!] + + [She hunts in a little bag for plaster.] + +Let's see! + +JOY. [Seeing the worms.] Ugh! + +MISS BEECH. What's the matter with the poor creatures? + +JOY. They're so wriggly! + + [She backs away and sits down in the swing. She is just + seventeen, light and slim, brown-haired, fresh-coloured, and + grey-eyed; her white frock reaches to her ankles, she wears a + sunbonnet.] Peachey, how long were you Mother's governess. + +MISS BEECH. Five years. + +JOY. Was she as bad to teach as me? + +MISS BEECH. Worse! + + [Joy claps her hands.] + +She was the worst girl I ever taught. + +JOY. Then you weren't fond of her? + +MISS BEECH. Oh! yes, I was. + +JOY. Fonder than of me? + +MISS BEECH. Don't you ask such a lot of questions. + +JOY. Peachey, duckie, what was Mother's worst fault? + +MISS BEECH. Doing what she knew she oughtn't. + +JOY. Was she ever sorry? + +MISS BEECH. Yes, but she always went on doin' it. + +JOY. I think being sorry 's stupid! + +MISS BEECH. Oh, do you? + +JOY. It isn't any good. Was Mother revengeful, like me? + +MISS BEECH. Ah! Wasn't she? + +JOY. And jealous? + +MISS BEECH. The most jealous girl I ever saw. + +JOY. [Nodding.] I like to be like her. + +MISS BEECH. [Regarding her intently.] Yes! you've got all your +troubles before you. + +JOY. Mother was married at eighteen, wasn't she, Peachey? Was she-- +was she much in love with Father then? + +MISS BEECH. [With a sniff.] About as much as usual. [She takes the +paint pot, and walking round begins to release the worms.] + +JOY. [Indifferently.] They don't get on now, you know. + +MISS BEECH. What d'you mean by that, disrespectful little creature? + +JOY. [In a hard voice.] They haven't ever since I've known them. +MISS BEECH. [Looks at her, and turns away again.] Don't talk about +such things. + +JOY. I suppose you don't know Mr. Lever? [Bitterly.] He's such a +cool beast. He never loses his temper. + +MISS BEECH. Is that why you don't like him? + +JOY. [Frowning.] No--yes--I don't know. + +MISS BEECH. Oh! perhaps you do like him? + +JOY. I don't; I hate him. + +MISS BEECH. [Standing still.] Fie! Naughty Temper! + +JOY. Well, so would you! He takes up all Mother's time. + +MISS BEECH. [In a peculiar voice.] Oh! does he? + +JOY. When he comes I might just as well go to bed. [Passionately.] +And now he's chosen to-day to come down here, when I haven't seen her +for two months! Why couldn't he come when Mother and I'd gone home. +It's simply brutal! + +MISS BEECH. But your mother likes him? + +JOY. [Sullenly.] I don't want her to like him. + +MISS BEECH. [With a long look at Joy.] I see! + +JOY. What are you doing, Peachey? + +MISS BEECH. [Releasing a worm.] Letting the poor creatures go. + +JOY. If I tell Dick he'll never forgive you. + +MISS BEECH. [Sidling behind the swing and plucking off Joy's +sunbonnet. With devilry.] Ah-h-h! You've done your hair up; so +that's why you wouldn't come down! + +JOY. [Springing up, anal pouting.] I didn't want any one to see +before Mother. You are a pig, Peachey! + +MISS BEECH. I thought there was something! + +JOY. [Twisting round.] How does it look? + +MISS BEECH. I've seen better. + +JOY. You tell any one before Mother comes, and see what I do! + +MISS BEECH. Well, don't you tell about my worms, then! + +JOY. Give me my hat! [Backing hastily towards the tree, and putting +her finger to her lips.] Look out! Dick! + +MISS BEECH. Oh! dear! + + [She sits down on the swing, concealing the paint pot with her + feet and skirts.] + +JOY. [On the rustic seat, and in a violent whisper.] I hope the +worms will crawl up your legs! + + [DICK, in flannels and a hard straw hat comes in. He is a quiet + and cheerful boy of twenty. His eyes are always fixed on joy.] + +DICK. [Grimacing.] The Colonel's getting licked. Hallo! Peachey, +in the swing? + +JOY. [Chuckling.] Swing her, Dick! + +MISS BEECH. [Quivering with emotion.] Little creature! + +JOY. Swing her! + + [DICK takes the ropes.] + +MISS BEECH. [Quietly.] It makes me sick, young man. + +DICK. [Patting her gently on the back.] All right, Peachey. + +MISS BEECH. [Maliciously.] Could you get me my sewing from the +seat? Just behind Joy. + +JOY. [Leaning her head against the tree.] If you do, I won't dance +with you to-night. + + [DICK stands paralysed. Miss BEECH gets off the swing, picks up + the paint pot, and stands concealing it behind her.] + +JOY. Look what she's got behind her, sly old thing! + +MISS BEECH. Oh! dear! + +JOY. Dance with her, Dick! + +MISS BEECH. If he dare! + +JOY. Dance with her, or I won't dance with you to-night. +[She whistles a waltz.] + +DICK. [Desperately.] Come on then, Peachey. We must. + +JOY. Dance, dance! + + [DICK seizes Miss BEECH by the waist. She drops the paint pot. + They revolve.] [Convulsed.] + +Oh, Peachey, Oh! + + [Miss BEECH is dropped upon the rustic seat. DICK seizes joy's + hands and drags her up.] + +No, no! I won't! + +MISS BEECH. [Panting.] Dance, dance with the poor young man! [She +moves her hands.] La la-la-la la-la la la! + + [DICK and JOY dance.] + +DICK. By Jove, Joy! You've done your hair up. I say, how jolly! +You do look---- + +JOY. [Throwing her hands up to her hair.] I did n't mean you to +see! + +DICK. [In a hurt voice.] Oh! didn't you? I'm awfully sorry! + +JOY. [Flashing round.] Oh, you old Peachey! + + [She looks at the ground, and then again at DICK.] + +MISS BEECH. [Sidling round the tree.] Oh! dear! + +JOY. [Whispering.] She's been letting out your worms. +[Miss BEECH disappears from view.] +Look! + +DICK. [Quickly.] Hang the worms! Joy, promise me the second and +fourth and sixth and eighth and tenth and supper, to-night. Promise! +Do! + + [Joy shakes her head.] + +It's not much to ask. + +JOY. I won't promise anything. + +DICK. Why not? + +JOY. Because Mother's coming. I won't make any arrangements. + +DICK. [Tragically.] It's our last night. + +JOY. [Scornfully.] You don't understand! [Dancing and clasping her +hands.] Mother's coming, Mother's coming! + +DICK. [Violently.] I wish----Promise, Joy! + +JOY. [Looking over her shoulder.] Sly old thing! If you'll pay +Peachey out, I'll promise you supper! + +MISS BEECH. [From behind the tree.] I hear you. + +JOY. [Whispering.] Pay her out, pay her out! She's let out all +your worms! + +DICK. [Looking moodily at the paint pot.] I say, is it true that +Maurice Lever's coming with your mother? I've met him playing +cricket, he's rather a good sort. + +JOY. [Flashing out.] I hate him. + +DICK. [Troubled.] Do you? Why? I thought--I didn't know--if I'd +known of course, I'd have---- + + [He is going to say "hated him too!" But the voices of ERNEST + BLUNT and the COLONEL are heard approaching, in dispute.] + +JOY. Oh! Dick, hide me, I don't want my hair seen till Mother +comes. + + [She springs into the hollow tree. The COLONEL and ERNEST + appear in the opening of the wall.] + +ERNEST. The ball was out, Colonel. + +COLONEL. Nothing of the sort. + +ERNEST. A good foot out. + +COLONEL. It was not, sir. I saw the chalk fly. + + [ERNEST is twenty-eight, with a little moustache, and the + positive cool voice of a young man who knows that he knows + everything. He is perfectly calm.] + +ERNEST. I was nearer to it than you. + +COLONEL. [In a high, hot voice.] I don't care where you were, I +hate a fellow who can't keep cool. + +MISS BEECH. [From behind the hollow tree.] Fie! Fie! + +ERNEST. We're two to one, Letty says the ball was out. + +COLONEL. Letty's your wife, she'd say anything. + +ERNEST. Well, look here, Colonel, I'll show you the very place it +pitched. + +COLONEL. Gammon! You've lost your temper, you don't know what +you're talking about. + +ERNEST. [coolly.] I suppose you'll admit the rule that one umpires +one's own court. + +COLONEL. [Hotly.] Certainly not, in this case! + +MISS BEECH. [From behind the hollow tree.] Special case! + +ERNEST. [Moving chin in collar--very coolly.] Well, of course if +you won't play the game! + +COLONEL. [In a towering passion.] If you lose your temper like +this, I 'll never play with you again. + + [To LETTY, a pretty soul in a linen suit, approaching through + the wall.] + +Do you mean to say that ball was out, Letty? + +LETTY. Of course it was, Father. + +COLONEL. You say that because he's your husband. [He sits on the +rustic seat.] If your mother'd been there she'd have backed me up! + +LETTY. Mother wants Joy, Dick, about her frock. + +DICK. I--I don't know where she is. + +MISS BEECH. [From behind the hollow tree.] Ahem! + +LETTY. What's the matter, Peachey? + +MISS BEECH. Swallowed a fly. Poor creature! + +ERNEST. [Returning to his point.] Why I know the ball was out, +Colonel, was because it pitched in a line with that arbutus tree. + +COLONEL. [Rising.] Arbutus tree! [To his daughter.] Where's your +mother? + +LETTY. In the blue room, Father. + +ERNEST. The ball was a good foot out; at the height it was coming +when it passed me. + +COLONEL. [Staring at him.] You're a--you're aa theorist! From +where you were you could n't see the ball at all. [To LETTY.] +Where's your mother? + +LETTY. [Emphatically.] In the blue room, Father! + + [The COLONEL glares confusedly, and goes away towards the blue + room.] + +ERNEST. [In the swing, and with a smile.] Your old Dad'll never be +a sportsman! + +LETTY. [Indignantly.] I wish you wouldn't call Father old, Ernie! +What time's Molly coming, Peachey? + + [ROSE has come from the house, and stands waiting for a chance + to speak.] + +ERNEST. [Breaking in.] Your old Dad's only got one fault: he can't +take an impersonal view of things. + +MISS BEECH. Can you find me any one who can? + +ERNEST. [With a smile.] Well, Peachey! + +MISS BEECH. [Ironically.] Oh! of course, there's you! + +ERNEST. I don't know about that! But---- + +ROSE. [To LETTY,] Please, Miss, the Missis says will you and Mr. +Ernest please to move your things into Miss Peachey's room. + +ERNEST. [Vexed.] Deuce of a nuisance havin' to turn out for this +fellow Lever. What did Molly want to bring him for? + +MISS BEECH. Course you've no personal feeling in the matter! + +ROSE. [Speaking to Miss BEECH.] The Missis says you're to please +move your things into the blue room, please Miss. + +LETTY. Aha, Peachey! That settles you! Come on, Ernie! + + [She goes towards the house. ERNEST, rising from the swing, + turns to Miss BEECH, who follows.] + +ERNEST. [Smiling, faintly superior.] Personal, not a bit! I only +think while Molly 's out at grass, she oughtn't to---- + +MISS BEECH. [Sharply.] Oh! do you? + + [She hustles ERNEST out through the wall, but his voice is heard + faintly from the distance: "I think it's jolly thin."] + +ROSE. [To DICK.] The Missis says you're to take all your worms and +things, Sir, and put them where they won't be seen. + +DICK. [Shortly.] Have n't got any! + +ROSE. The Missis says she'll be very angry if you don't put your +worms away; and would you come and help kill earwigs in the blue----? + +DICK. Hang! [He goes, and ROSE is left alone.] + +ROSE. [Looking straight before her.] Please, Miss Joy, the Missis +says will you go to her about your frock. + + [There is a little pause, then from the hollow tree joy's voice + is heard.] + +JOY. No-o! + +ROSE. If you did n't come, I was to tell you she was going to put +you in the blue. + + [Joy looks out of the tree.] + + [Immovable, but smiling.] + +Oh, Miss joy, you've done your hair up! [Joy retires into the tree.] +Please, Miss, what shall I tell the Missis? + +JOY. [Joy's voice is heard.] Anything you like. + +ROSE. [Over her shoulder.] I shall be drove to tell her a story, +Miss. + +JOY. All right! Tell it. + + [ROSE goes away, and JOY comes out. She sits on the rustic seat + and waits. DICK, coming softly from the house, approaches her.] + +DICK. [Looking at her intently.] Joy! I wanted to say something + + [Joy does not look at him, but twists her fingers.] + +I shan't see you again you know after to-morrow till I come up for +the 'Varsity match. + +JOY. [Smiling.] But that's next week. + +DICK. Must you go home to-morrow? + + [Joy nods three times.] + + [Coming closer.] + +I shall miss you so awfully. You don't know how I---- + + [Joy shakes her head.] + +Do look at me! [JOY steals a look.] Oh! Joy! + + [Again joy shakes her head.] + +JOY. [Suddenly.] Don't! + +DICK. [Seizing her hand.] Oh, Joy! Can't you---- + +JOY. [Drawing the hand away.] Oh! don't. + +DICK. [Bending his head.] It's--it's--so---- + +JOY. [Quietly.] Don't, Dick! + +DICK. But I can't help it! It's too much for me, Joy, I must tell +you---- + + [MRS. GWYN is seen approaching towards the house.] + +JOY. [Spinning round.] It's Mother--oh, Mother! +[She rushes at her.] + + [MRS. GWYN is a handsome creature of thirty-six, dressed in a + muslin frock. She twists her daughter round, and kisses her.] + +MRS. GWYN. How sweet you look with your hair up, Joy! Who 's this? +[Glancing with a smile at DICK.] + +JOY. Dick Merton--in my letters you know. + + [She looks at DICK as though she wished him gone.] + +MRS. GWYN. How do you do? + +DICK. [Shaking hands.] How d 'you do? I think if you'll excuse me +--I'll go in. + + [He goes uncertainly.] + +MRS. GWYN. What's the matter with him? + +JOY. Oh, nothing! [Hugging her.] Mother! You do look such a duck. +Why did you come by the towing-path, was n't it cooking? + +MRS. GWYN. [Avoiding her eyes.] Mr. Lever wanted to go into Mr. +Henty's. + + [Her manner is rather artificially composed.] + +JOY. [Dully.] Oh! Is he-is he really coming here, Mother? + +MRS. GWYN. [Whose voice has hardened just a little.] If Aunt Nell's +got a room for him--of course--why not? + +JOY. [Digging her chin into her mother's shoulder.] + + [Why couldn't he choose some day when we'd gone? I wanted you + all to myself.] + +MRS. GWYN. You are a quaint child--when I was your age---- + +JOY. [Suddenly looking up.] Oh! Mother, you must have been a +chook! + +MRS. GWYN. Well, I was about twice as old as you, I know that. + +JOY. Had you any--any other offers before you were married, Mother? + +MRS. GWYN. [Smilingly.] Heaps! + +JOY. [Reflectively.] Oh! + +MRS. GWYN. Why? Have you been having any? + +JOY. [Glancing at MRS. GWYN, and then down.] N-o, of course not! + +MRS. GWYN. Where are they all? Where's Peachey? + +JOY. Fussing about somewhere; don't let's hurry! Oh! you duckie-- +duckie! Aren't there any letters from Dad? + +MRS. GWYN. [In a harder voice.] Yes, one or two. + +JOY. [Hesitating.] Can't I see? + +MRS. GWYN. I didn't bring them. [Changing the subject obviously.] +Help me to tidy--I'm so hot I don't know what to do. + + [She takes out a powder-puff bag, with a tiny looking-glass.] + +JOY. How lovely it'll be to-morrow-going home! + +MRS. GWYN. [With an uneasy look.] London's dreadfully stuffy, Joy. +You 'll only get knocked up again. + +JOY. [With consternation.] Oh! but Mother, I must come. + +MRS. GWYN. (Forcing a smile.) Oh, well, if you must, you must! + + [Joy makes a dash at her.] + +Don't rumple me again. Here's Uncle Tom. + +JOY. [Quickly.] Mother, we're going to dance tonight; promise to +dance with me--there are three more girls than men, at least--and +don't dance too much with--with--you know--because I'm--[dropping her +voice and very still]--jealous. + +MRS. GWYN. [Forcing a laugh.] You are funny! + +JOY. [Very quickly.] I haven't made any engagements because of you. + + [The COLONEL approaches through the wall.] + +MRS. GWYN. Well, Uncle Tom? + +COLONEL. [Genially.] Why, Molly! [He kisses her.] What made you +come by the towing-path? + +JOY. Because it's so much cooler, of course. + +COLONEL. Hallo! What's the matter with you? Phew! you've got your +hair up! Go and tell your aunt your mother's on the lawn. Cut +along! + + [Joy goes, blowing a kiss.] + +Cracked about you, Molly! Simply cracked! We shall miss her when +you take her off to-morrow. [He places a chair for her.] Sit down, +sit down, you must be tired in this heat. I 've sent Bob for your +things with the wheelbarrow; what have you got?--only a bag, I +suppose. + +MRS. GWYN. [Sitting, with a smile.] That's all, Uncle Tom, except-- +my trunk and hat-box. + +COLONEL. Phew! And what's-his-name brought a bag, I suppose? + +MRS. GWYN. They're all together. I hope it's not too much, Uncle +Tom. + +COLONEL. [Dubiously.] Oh! Bob'll manage! I suppose you see a good +deal of--of--Lever. That's his brother in the Guards, isn't it? + +MRS. GWYN. Yes. + +COLONEL. Now what does this chap do? + +MRS. GWYN. What should he do, Uncle Tom? He's a Director. + +COLONEL. Guinea-pig! [Dubiously.] Your bringing him down was a +good idea. + + [MRS. GWYN, looking at him sidelong, bites her lips.] + +I should like to have a look at him. But, I say, you know, Molly-- +mines, mines! There are a lot of these chaps about, whose business +is to cook their own dinners. Your aunt thinks---- + +MRS. GWYN. Oh! Uncle Tom, don't tell me what Aunt Nell thinks! + +COLONEL. Well-well! Look here, old girl! It's my experience never +to--what I mean is--never to trust too much to a man who has to do +with mining. I've always refused to have anything to do with mines. +If your husband were in England, of course, I'd say nothing. + +MRS. GWYN. [Very still.] We'd better keep him out of the question, +had n't we? + +COLONEL. Of course, if you wish it, my dear. + +MRS. GWYN. Unfortunately, I do. + +COLONEL. [Nervously.] Ah! yes, I know; but look here, Molly, your +aunt thinks you're in a very delicate position-in fact, she thinks +you see too much of young Lever. + +MRS. GWYN. [Stretching herself like an angry cat.] Does she? And +what do you think? + +COLONEL. I? I make a point of not thinking. I only know that here +he is, and I don't want you to go burning your fingers, eh? + + [MRS. GWYN sits with a vindictive smile.] + +A gold mine's a gold mine. I don't mean he deliberately--but they +take in women and parsons, and--and all sorts of fools. [Looking +down.] And then, you know, I can't tell your feelings, my dear, and +I don't want to; but a man about town 'll compromise a woman as soon +as he'll look at her, and [softly shaking his head] I don't like +that, Molly! It 's not the thing! + + [MRS. GWYN sits unmoved, smiling the same smile, and the COLONEL + gives her a nervous look.] + +If--if you were any other woman I should n't care--and if--if you +were a plain woman, damme, you might do what you liked! I know you +and Geoff don't get on; but here's this child of yours, devoted to +you, and--and don't you see, old girl? Eh? + +MRS. GWYN. [With a little hard laugh.] Thanks! Perfectly! I +suppose as you don't think, Uncle Tom, it never occurred to you that +I have rather a lonely time of it. + +COLONEL. [With compunction.] Oh! my dear, yes, of course I know it +must be beastly. + +MRS. GWYN. [Stonily.] It is. + +COLONEL. Yes, yes! [Speaking in a surprised voice.] I don't know +what I 'm talking like this for! It's your aunt! She goes on at me +till she gets on my nerves. What d' you think she wants me to do +now? Put money into this gold mine! Did you ever hear such folly? + +MRS. GWYN. [Breaking into laughter.] Oh! Uncle Tom! + +COLONEL. All very well for you to laugh, Molly! + +MRS. GWYN. [Calmly.] And how much are you going to put in? + +COLONEL. Not a farthing! Why, I've got nothing but my pension and +three thousand India stock! + +MRS. GWYN. Only ninety pounds a year, besides your pension! D' you +mean to say that's all you've got, Uncle Tom? I never knew that +before. What a shame! + +COLONEL. [Feelingly.] It is a d--d shame! I don't suppose there's +another case in the army of a man being treated as I've been. + +MRS. GWYN. But how on earth do you manage here on so little? + +COLONEL. [Brooding.] Your aunt's very funny. She's a born manager. +She 'd manage the hind leg off a donkey; but if I want five shillings +for a charity or what not, I have to whistle for it. And then all of +a sudden, Molly, she'll take it into her head to spend goodness knows +what on some trumpery or other and come to me for the money. If I +have n't got it to give her, out she flies about 3 per cent., and +worries me to invest in some wild-cat or other, like your friend's +thing, the Jaco what is it? I don't pay the slightest attention to +her. + +MRS. HOPE. [From the direction of the house.] Tom! + +COLONEL. [Rising.] Yes, dear! [Then dropping his voice.] I say, +Molly, don't you mind what I said about young Lever. I don't want +you to imagine that I think harm of people--you know I don't--but so +many women come to grief, and--[hotly]--I can't stand men about town; +not that he of course---- + +MRS. HOPE, [Peremptorily.] Tom! + +COLONEL. [In hasty confidence.] I find it best to let your aunt run +on. If she says anything---- + +MRS. HOPE. To-om! + +COLONEL. Yes, dear! + + [He goes hastily. MRS. GWYN sits drawing circles on the ground + with her charming parasol. Suddenly she springs to her feet, + and stands waiting like an animal at bay. The COLONEL and MRS. + HOPE approach her talking.] + +MRS. HOPE. Well, how was I to know? + +COLONEL. Did n't Joy come and tell you? + +MRS. HOPE. I don't know what's the matter with that child? Well, +Molly, so here you are. You're before your time--that train's always +late. + +MRS. GWYN. [With faint irony.] I'm sorry, Aunt Nell! + + [They bob, seem to take fright, and kiss each other gingerly.] + +MRS. HOPE. What have you done with Mr. Lever? I shall have to put +him in Peachey's room. Tom's got no champagne. + +COLONEL. They've a very decent brand down at the George, Molly, I'll +send Bob over---- + +MRS. HOPE. Rubbish, Tom! He'll just have to put up with what he can +get! + +MRS. GWYN. Of course! He's not a snob! For goodness sake, Aunt +Nell, don't put yourself out! I'm sorry I suggested his coming. + +COLONEL. My dear, we ought to have champagne in the house--in case +of accident. + +MRS. GWYN. [Shaking him gently by the coat.] No, please, Uncle +Tom! + +MRS. HOPE. [Suddenly.] Now, I've told your uncle, Molly, that he's +not to go in for this gold mine without making certain it's a good +thing. Mind, I think you've been very rash. I'm going to give you a +good talking to; and that's not all--you ought n't to go about like +this with a young man; he's not at all bad looking. I remember him +perfectly well at the Fleming's dance. + + [On MRS. GWYN's lips there comes a little mocking smile.] + +COLONEL. [Pulling his wife's sleeve.] Nell! + +MRS. HOPE. No, Tom, I'm going to talk to Molly; she's old enough to +know better. + +MRS. GWYN. Yes? + +MRS. HOPE. Yes, and you'll get yourself into a mess; I don't approve +of it, and when I see a thing I don't approve of---- + +COLONEL. [Walking about, and pulling his moustache.] Nell, I won't +have it, I simply won't have it. + +MRS. HOPE. What rate of interest are these Preference shares to pay? + +MRS. GWYN. [Still smiling.] Ten per cent. + +MRS. HOPE. What did I tell you, Tom? And are they safe? + +MRS. GWYN. You'd better ask Maurice. + +MRS. HOPE. There, you see, you call him Maurice! Now supposing your +uncle went in for some of them---- + +COLONEL. [Taking off his hat-in a high, hot voice] I'm not going in +for anything of the sort. + +MRS. HOPE. Don't swing your hat by the brim! Go and look if you can +see him coming! + + [The COLONEL goes.] + +[In a lower voice.] Your uncle's getting very bald. I 've only +shoulder of lamb for lunch, and a salad. It's lucky it's too hot to +eat. + + [MISS BEECH has appeared while she is speaking.] + +Here she is, Peachey! + +MISS BEECH. I see her. [She kisses MRS. GWYN, and looks at her +intently.] + +MRS. GWYN. [Shrugging her shoulders.] Well, Peachey! What d 'you +make of me? + +COLONEL. [Returning from his search.] There's a white hat crossing +the second stile. Is that your friend, Molly? + + [MRS. GWYN nods.] + +MRS. HOPE. Oh! before I forget, Peachey--Letty and Ernest can move +their things back again. I'm going to put Mr. Lever in your room. +[Catching sight o f the paint pot on the ground.] There's that +disgusting paint pot! Take it up at once, Tom, and put it in the +tree. + + [The COLONEL picks up the pot and bears it to the hollow tree + followed by MRS. HOPE; he enters.] + +MRS. HOPE. [Speaking into the tree.] Not there! + +COLONEL. [From within.] Well, where then? + +MRS. HOPE. Why--up--oh! gracious! + + [MRS. GWYN, standing alone, is smiling. LEVER approaches from + the towing-path. He is a man like a fencer's wrist, supple and + steely. A man whose age is difficult to tell, with a quick, + good-looking face, and a line between his brows; his darkish + hair is flecked with grey. He gives the feeling that he has + always had to spurt to keep pace with his own life.] + +MRS. HOPE. [Also entering the hollow tree.] No-oh! + +COLONEL. [From the depths, in a high voice.] Well, dash it then! +What do you want? + +MRS. GWYN. Peachey, may I introduce Mr. Lever to you? Miss Beech, +my old governess. + + [They shake each other by the hand.] + +LEVER. How do you do? [His voice is pleasant, his manner easy.] + +MISS BEECH. Pleased to meet you. + + [Her manner is that of one who is not pleased. She watches.] + +MRS. GWYN. [Pointing to the tree-maliciously.] This is my uncle and +my aunt. They're taking exercise, I think. + + [The COLONEL and MRS. HOPE emerge convulsively. They are very + hot. LEVER and MRS. GWYN are very cool.] + +MRS. HOPE. [Shaking hands with him.] So you 've got here! Are n't +you very hot?--Tom! + +COLONEL. Brought a splendid day with you! Splendid! + + [As he speaks, Joy comes running with a bunch of roses; seeing + LEVER, she stops and stands quite rigid.] + +MISS BEECH. [Sitting in the swing.] Thunder! + +COLONEL. Thunder? Nonsense, Peachey, you're always imagining +something. Look at the sky! + +MISS BEECH. Thunder! + + [MRS. GWYN's smile has faded. ] + +MRS. HOPE. [Turning.] Joy, don't you see Mr. Lever? + + [Joy, turning to her mother, gives her the roses. With a forced + smile, LEVER advances, holding out his hand.] + +LEVER. How are you, Joy? Have n't seen you for an age! + +JOY. [Without expression.] I am very well, thank you. + + [She raises her hand, and just touches his. MRS. GWYN'S eyes + are fixed on her daughter. Miss BEECH is watching them + intently. MRS. HOPE is buttoning the COLONEL'S coat.] + + + The curtain falls. + + + + + +ACT II + + It is afternoon, and at a garden-table placed beneath the hollow + tree, the COLONEL is poring over plans. Astride of a + garden-chair, LEVER is smoking cigarettes. DICK is hanging + Chinese lanterns to the hollow tree. + +LEVER. Of course, if this level [pointing with his cigarette] +peters out to the West we shall be in a tightish place; you know what +a mine is at this stage, Colonel Hope. + +COLONEL. [Absently.] Yes, yes. [Tracing a line.] What is there to +prevent its running out here to the East? + +LEVER. Well, nothing, except that as a matter of fact it doesn't. + +COLONEL. [With some excitement.] I'm very glad you showed me these +papers, very glad! I say that it's a most astonishing thing if the +ore suddenly stops there. [A gleam of humour visits LEVER'S face.] +I'm not an expert, but you ought to prove that ground to the East +more thoroughly. + +LEVER. [Quizzically.] Of course, sir, if you advise that---- + +COLONEL. If it were mine, I'd no more sit down under the belief that +the ore stopped there than I 'd---There's a harmony in these things. + +NEVER. I can only tell you what our experts say. + +COLONEL. Ah! Experts! No faith in them--never had! Miners, +lawyers, theologians, cowardly lot--pays them to be cowardly. When +they have n't their own axes to grind, they've got their theories; a +theory's a dangerous thing. [He loses himself in contemplation of +the papers.] Now my theory is, you 're in strata here of what we +call the Triassic Age. + +LEVER. [Smiling faintly.] Ah! + +COLONEL. You've struck a fault, that's what's happened. The ore may +be as much as thirty or forty yards out; but it 's there, depend on +it. + +LEVER. Would you back that opinion, sir? + +COLONEL. [With dignity.] I never give an opinion that I'm not +prepared to back. I want to get to the bottom of this. What's to +prevent the gold going down indefinitely? + +LEVER. Nothing, so far as I know. + +COLONEL. [With suspicion.] Eh! + +LEVER. All I can tell you is: This is as far as we've got, and we +want more money before we can get any farther. + +COLONEL. [Absently.] Yes, yes; that's very usual. + +LEVER. If you ask my personal opinion I think it's very doubtful +that the gold does go down. + +COLONEL. [Smiling.] Oh! a personal opinion a matter of this sort! + +LEVER. [As though about to take the papers.] Perhaps we'd better +close the sitting, sir; sorry to have bored you. + +COLONEL. Now, now! Don't be so touchy! If I'm to put money in, I'm +bound to look at it all round. + +LEVER. [With lifted brows.] Please don't imagine that I want you to +put money in. + +COLONEL. Confound it, sir! D 'you suppose I take you for a Company +promoter? + +LEVER. Thank you! + +COLONEL. [Looking at him doubtfully.] You've got Irish blood in +you--um? You're so hasty! + +LEVER. If you 're really thinking of taking shares--my advice to you +is, don't! + +COLONEL. [Regretfully.] If this were an ordinary gold mine, I +wouldn't dream of looking at it, I want you to understand that. +Nobody has a greater objection to gold mines than I. + +LEVER. [Looks down at his host with half-closed eyes.] But it is a +gold mine, Colonel Hope. + +COLONEL. I know, I know; but I 've been into it for myself; I've +formed my opinion personally. Now, what 's the reason you don't want +me to invest? + +LEVER. Well, if it doesn't turn out as you expect, you'll say it's +my doing. I know what investors are. + +COLONEL. [Dubiously.] If it were a Westralian or a Kaffir I would +n't touch it with a pair of tongs! It 's not as if I were going to +put much in! [He suddenly bends above the papers as though +magnetically attracted.] I like these Triassic formations! + + [DICK, who has hung the last lantern, moodily departs.] + +LEVER. [Looking after him.] That young man seems depressed. + +COLONEL. [As though remembering his principles.] I don't like +mines, never have! [Suddenly absorbed again.] I tell you what, +Lever--this thing's got tremendous possibilities. You don't seem to +believe in it enough. No mine's any good without faith; until I see +for myself, however, I shan't commit myself beyond a thousand. + +LEVER. Are you serious, sir? + +COLONEL. Certainly! I've been thinking it over ever since you told +me Henty had fought shy. I 've a poor opinion of Henty. He's one of +those fellows that says one thing and does another. An opportunist! + +LEVER. [Slowly.] I'm afraid we're all that, more or less. [He sits +beneath the hollow tree.] + +COLONEL. A man never knows what he is himself. There 's my wife. +She thinks she 's----By the way, don't say anything to her about +this, please. And, Lever [nervously], I don't think, you know, this +is quite the sort of thing for my niece. + +LEVER. [Quietly.] I agree. I mean to get her out of it. + +COLONEL. [A little taken aback.] Ah! You know, she--she's in a +very delicate position, living by herself in London. [LEVER looks at +him ironically.] You [very nervously] see a good deal of her? If +it had n't been for Joy growing so fast, we shouldn't have had the +child down here. Her mother ought to have her with her. Eh! Don't +you think so? + +LEVER. [Forcing a smile.] Mrs. Gwyn always seems to me to get on +all right. + +COLONEL. [As though making a discovery.] You know, I've found that +when a woman's living alone and unprotected, the very least thing +will set a lot of hags and jackanapes talking. [Hotly.] The more +unprotected and helpless a woman is, the more they revel in it. If +there's anything I hate in this world, it's those wretched creatures +who babble about their neighbours' affairs. + +LEVER. I agree with you. + +COLONEL. One ought to be very careful not to give them--that is---- +[checks himself confused; then hurrying on]--I suppose you and Joy +get on all right? + +LEVER. [Coolly.] Pretty well, thanks. I'm not exactly in Joy's +line; have n't seen very much of her, in fact. + + [Miss BEECH and JOY have been approaching from the house. But + seeing LEVER, JOY turns abruptly, hesitates a moment, and with + an angry gesture goes away.] + +COLONEL [Unconscious.] Wonderfully affectionate little thing! Well, +she'll be going home to-morrow! + +MISS BEECH. [Who has been gazing after JOY.] Talkin' business, poor +creatures? + +LEVER. Oh, no! If you'll excuse me, I'll wash my hands before tea. + + [He glances at the COLONEL poring over papers, and, shrugging + his shoulders, strolls away.] + +MISS BEECH. [Sitting in the swing.] I see your horrid papers. + +COLONEL. Be quiet, Peachey! + +MISS BEECH. On a beautiful summer's day, too. + +COLONEL. That'll do now. + +MISS BEECH. [Unmoved.] For every ounce you take out of a gold mine +you put two in. + +COLONEL. Who told you that rubbish? + +MISS BEECH. [With devilry.] You did! + +COLONEL. This is n't an ordinary gold mine. + +MISS BEECH. Oh! quite a special thing. + + [COLONEL stares at her, but subsiding at hey impassivity, he + pores again over the papers.] + + [Rosy has approached with a tea cloth.] + +ROSE. If you please, sir, the Missis told me to lay the tea. + +COLONEL. Go away! Ten fives fifty. Ten 5 16ths, Peachey? + +MISS BEECH. I hate your nasty sums! + + [ROSE goes away. The COLONEL Writes. MRS. HOPE'S voice is + heard, "Now then, bring those chairs, you two. Not that one, + Ernest." ERNEST and LETTY appear through the openings of the + wall, each with a chair.] + +COLONEL. [With dull exasperation.] What do you want? + +LETTY. Tea, Father. + + [She places her chair and goes away.] + +ERNEST. That Johnny-bird Lever is too cocksure for me, Colonel. +Those South American things are no good at all. I know all about +them from young Scrotton. There's not one that's worth a red cent. +If you want a flutter---- + +COLONEL. [Explosively.] Flutter! I'm not a gambler, sir! + +ERNEST. Well, Colonel [with a smile], I only don't want you to chuck +your money away on a stiff 'un. If you want anything good you should +go to Mexico. + +COLONEL. [Jumping up and holding out the map.] Go to [He stops in +time.] What d'you call that, eh? M-E-X---- + +ERNEST. [Not to be embarrassed.] It all depend on what part. + +COLONEL. You think you know everything--you think nothing's right +unless it's your own idea! Be good enough to keep your advice to +yourself. + +ERNEST. [Moving with his chair, and stopping with a smile.] If you +ask me, I should say it wasn't playing the game to put Molly into a +thing like that. + +COLONEL. What do you mean, sir? + +ERNEST. Any Juggins can see that she's a bit gone on our friend. + +COLONEL. [Freezingly.] Indeed! + +ERNEST. He's not at all the sort of Johnny that appeals to me. + +COLONEL. Really? + +ERNEST. [Unmoved.] If I were you, Colonel, I should tip her the +wink. He was hanging about her at Ascot all the time. It 's a bit +thick! + + [MRS. HOPE followed by ROSE appears from the house.] + +COLONEL. [Stammering with passion.] Jackanapes! + +MRS. HOPE. Don't stand there, Tom; clear those papers, and let Rose +lay the table. Now, Ernest, go and get another chair. + + [The COLONEL looks wildly round and sits beneath the hollow + tree, with his head held in his hands. ROSE lays the cloth.] + +MRS. BEECH. [Sitting beside the COLONEL.] Poor creature! + +ERNEST. [Carrying his chair about with him.] Ask any Johnny in the +City, he 'll tell you Mexico's a very tricky country--the people are +awful rotters. + +MRS. HOPE. Put that chair down, Ernest. + + [ERNEST looks at the chair, puts it down, opens his mouth, and + goes away. ROSE follows him.] + +What's he been talking about? You oughtn't to get so excited, Tom; +is your head bad, old man? Here, take these papers! [She hands the +papers to the COLONEL.] Peachey, go in and tell them tea 'll be +ready in a minute, there 's a good soul? Oh! and on my dressing +table you'll find a bottle of Eau de Cologne. + +MRS. BEECH. Don't let him get in a temper again. That 's three +times to-day! + + [She goes towards the house. ] + +COLONEL. Never met such a fellow in my life, the most opinionated, +narrow-minded--thinks he knows everything. Whatever Letty could see +in him I can't think. Pragmatical beggar! + +MRS. HOPE. Now Tom! What have you been up to, to get into a state +like this? + +COLONEL. [Avoiding her eyes.] I shall lose my temper with him one +of these days. He's got that confounded habit of thinking nobody can +be right but himself. + +MRS. HOPE. That's enough! I want to talk to you seriously! Dick's +in love. I'm perfectly certain of it. + +COLONEL. Love! Who's he in love with--Peachey? + +MRS. HOPE. You can see it all over him. If I saw any signs of Joy's +breaking out, I'd send them both away. I simply won't have it. + +COLONEL. Why, she's a child! + +MRS. HOPE. [Pursuing her own thoughts.] But she isn't--not yet. +I've been watching her very carefully. She's more in love with her +Mother than any one, follows her about like a dog! She's been quite +rude to Mr. Lever. + +COLONEL. [Pursuing his own thoughts.] I don't believe a word of it. + + [He rises and walks about] + +MRS. HOPE. Don't believe a word of what? + + [The COLONEL is Silent.] + + [Pursuing his thoughts with her own.] + +If I thought there was anything between Molly and Mr. Lever, d 'you +suppose I'd have him in the house? + + [The COLONEL stops, and gives a sort of grunt.] + +He's a very nice fellow; and I want you to pump him well, Tom, and +see what there is in this mine. + +COLONEL. [Uneasily.] Pump! + +MRS. HOPE. [Looking at him curiously.] Yes, you 've been up to +something! Now what is it? + +COLONEL. Pump my own guest! I never heard of such a thing! + +MRS. HOPE. There you are on your high horse! I do wish you had a +little common-sense, Tom! + +COLONEL. I'd as soon you asked me to sneak about eavesdropping! +Pump! + +MRS. HOPE. Well, what were you looking at these papers for? It does +drive me so wild the way you throw away all the chances you have of +making a little money. I've got you this opportunity, and you do +nothing but rave up and down, and talk nonsense! + +COLONEL. [In a high voice] Much you know about it! I 've taken a +thousand shares in this mine-- + + [He stops dead. There is a silence. ] + +MRS. HOPE. You 've--WHAT? Without consulting me? Well, then, +you 'll just go and take them out again! + +COLONEL. You want me to----? + +MRS. HOPE. The idea! As if you could trust your judgment in a thing +like that! You 'll just go at once and say there was a mistake; then +we 'll talk it over calmly. + +COLONEL. [Drawing himself up.] Go back on what I 've said? Not if I +lose every penny! First you worry me to take the shares, and then +you worry me not--I won't have it, Nell, I won't have it! + +MRS. HOPE. Well, if I'd thought you'd have forgotten what you said +this morning and turned about like this, d'you suppose I'd have +spoken to you at all? Now, do you? + +COLONEL. Rubbish! If you can't see that this is a special +opportunity! + + [He walks away followed by MRS. HOPE, who endeavors to make him + see her point of view. ERNEST and LETTY are now returning from + the house armed with a third chair.] + +LETTY. What's the matter with everybody? Is it the heat? + +ERNEST. [Preoccupied and sitting in the swing.] That sportsman, +Lever, you know, ought to be warned off. + +LETTY. [Signing to ERNEST.] Where's Miss Joy, Rose? + +ROSE. Don't know, Miss. + + [Putting down the tray, she goes.] + + + [ROSE, has followed with the tea tray.] + +LETTY. Ernie, be careful, you never know where Joy is. + +ERNEST. [Preoccupied with his reflections.] Your old Dad 's as mad +as a hatter with me. + +LETTY. Why? + +ERNEST. Well, I merely said what I thought, that Molly ought to look +out what's she's doing, and he dropped on me like a cartload of +bricks. + +LETTY. The Dad's very fond of Molly. + +ERNEST. But look here, d'you mean to tell me that she and Lever +are n't---- + +LETTY. Don't! Suppose they are! If joy were to hear it'd be simply +awful. I like Molly. I 'm not going to believe anything against +her. I don't see the use of it. If it is, it is, and if it is n't, +it is n't. + +ERNEST. Well, all I know is that when I told her the mine was +probably a frost she went for me like steam. + +LETTY. Well, so should I. She was only sticking up for her friends. + +ERNEST. Ask the old Peachey-bird. She knows a thing or two. Look +here, I don't mind a man's being a bit of a sportsman, but I think +Molly's bringin' him down here is too thick. Your old Dad's got one +of his notions that because this Josser's his guest, he must keep him +in a glass case, and take shares in his mine, and all the rest of it. + +LETTY. I do think people are horrible, always thinking things. It's +not as if Molly were a stranger. She's my own cousin. I 'm not +going to believe anything about my own cousin. I simply won't. + +ERNEST. [Reluctantly realising the difference that this makes.] I +suppose it does make a difference, her bein' your cousin. + +LETTY. Of course it does! I only hope to goodness no one will make +Joy suspect---- + + [She stops and buts her finger to her lips, for JOY is coming + towards them, as the tea-bell sounds. She is followed by DICK + and MISS BEECH with the Eau de Cologne. The COLONEL and MRS. + HOPE are also coming back, discussing still each other's point + of view.] + +JOY. Where 's Mother? Isn't she here? + +MRS. HOPE. Now Joy, come and sit down; your mother's been told tea's +ready; if she lets it get cold it's her lookout. + +DICK. [Producing a rug, and spreading it beneath the tree.] Plenty +of room, Joy. + +JOY. I don't believe Mother knows, Aunt Nell. + + [MRS. GWYN and LEVER appear in the opening of the wall.] + +LETTY. [Touching ERNEST's arm.] Look, Ernie! Four couples and +Peachey---- + +ERNEST. [Preoccupied.] What couples? + +JOY. Oh! Mums, here you are! + + [Seizing her, she turns her back on LEVER. They sit in various + seats, and MRS. HOPE pours out the tea.] + +MRS. HOPE. Hand the sandwiches to Mr. Lever, Peachey. It's our own +jam, Mr. Lever. + +LEVER. Thanks. [He takes a bite.] It's splendid! + +MRS. GWYN. [With forced gaiety.] It's the first time I've ever seen +you eat jam. + +LEVER. [Smiling a forced smile.] Really! But I love it. + +MRS. GWYN. [With a little bow.] You always refuse mine. + +JOY. [Who has been staring at her enemy, suddenly.] I'm all burnt +up! Are n't you simply boiled, Mother? + + [She touches her Mother's forehead.] + +MRS. GWYN. Ugh! You're quite clammy, Joy. + +JOY. It's enough to make any one clammy. + + [Her eyes go back to LEVER'S face as though to stab him.] + +ERNEST. [From the swing.] I say, you know, the glass is going down. + +LEVER. [Suavely.] The glass in the hall's steady enough. + +ERNEST. Oh, I never go by that; that's a rotten old glass. + +COLONEL. Oh! is it? + +ERNEST. [Paying no attention.] I've got a little ripper--never puts +you in the cart. Bet you what you like we have thunder before +tomorrow night. + +MISS BEECH. [Removing her gaze from JOY to LEVER.] You don't think +we shall have it before to-night, do you? + +LEVER. [Suavely.] I beg your pardon; did you speak to me? + +MISS BEECH. I said, you don't think we shall have the thunder before +to-night, do you? + + [She resumes her watch on joy.] + +LEVER. [Blandly.] Really, I don't see any signs of it. + + [Joy, crossing to the rug, flings herself down. And DICK sits + cross-legged, with his eyes fast fixed on her.] + +MISS BEECH. [Eating.] People don't often see what they don't want +to, do they? + + [LEVER only lifts his brows.] + +MRS. GWYN. [Quickly breaking ivy.] What are you talking about? The +weather's perfect. + +MISS BEECH. Isn't it? + +MRS. HOPE. You'd better make a good tea, Peachey; nobody'll get +anything till eight, and then only cold shoulder. You must just put +up with no hot dinner, Mr. Lever. + +LEVER. [Bowing.] Whatever is good enough for Miss Beech is good +enough for me. + +MISS BEECH. [Sardonically-taking another sandwich.] So you think! + +MRS. GWYN. [With forced gaiety.] Don't be so absurd, Peachey. + + [MISS BEECH, grunts slightly.] + +COLONEL. [Once more busy with his papers.] I see the name of your +engineer is Rodriguez--Italian, eh? + +LEVER. Portuguese. + +COLONEL. Don't like that! + +LEVER. I believe he was born in England. + +COLONEL. [Reassured.] Oh, was he? Ah! + +ERNEST. Awful rotters, those Portuguese! + +COLONEL. There you go! + +LETTY. Well, Father, Ernie only said what you said. + +MRS. HOPE. Now I want to ask you, Mr. Lever, is this gold mine safe? +If it isn't--I simply won't allow Tom to take these shares; he can't +afford it. + +LEVER. It rather depends on what you call safe, Mrs. Hope. + +MRS. HOPE. I don't want anything extravagant, of course; if they're +going to pay their 10 per cent, regularly, and Tom can have his money +out at any time--[There is a faint whistle from the swing.] I only +want to know that it's a thoroughly genuine thing. + +MRS. GWYN. [Indignantly.] As if Maurice would be a Director if it +was n't? + +MRS. HOPE. Now Molly, I'm simply asking---- + +MRS. GWYN. Yes, you are! + +COLONEL. [Rising.] I'll take two thousand of those shares, Lever. +To have my wife talk like that--I 'm quite ashamed. + +LEVER. Oh, come, sir, Mrs. Hope only meant---- + + [MRS. GWYN looks eagerly at LEVER.] + +DICK. [Quietly.] Let's go on the river, Joy. + + [JOY rises, and goes to her Mother's chair.] + +MRS. HOPE. Of course! What rubbish, Tom! As if any one ever +invested money without making sure! + +LEVER. [Ironically.] It seems a little difficult to make sure in +this case. There isn't the smallest necessity for Colonel Hope to +take any shares, and it looks to me as if he'd better not. + + [He lights a cigarette.] + +MRS. HOPE. Now, Mr. Lever, don't be offended! I'm very anxious for +Tom to take the shares if you say the thing's so good. + +LEVER. I 'm afraid I must ask to be left out, please. + +JOY. [Whispering.] Mother, if you've finished, do come, I want to +show you my room. + +MRS. HOPE. I would n't say a word, only Tom's so easily taken in. + +MRS. GWYN. [Fiercely.] Aunt Nell, how can't you? [Joy gives a +little savage laugh.] + +LETTY. [Hastily.] Ernie, will you play Dick and me? Come on, Dick! + + [All three go out towards the lawn.] + +MRS. HOPE. You ought to know your Uncle by this time, Molly. He's +just like a child. He'd be a pauper to-morrow if I did n't see to +things. + +COLONEL. Understand once for all that I shall take two thousand +shares in this mine. I 'm--I 'm humiliated. [He turns and goes +towards the house.] + +MRS. HOPE. Well, what on earth have I said? + + [She hurries after him. ] + +MRS. GWYN. [In a low voice as she passes.] You need n't insult my +friends! + + [LEVER, shrugging his shoulders, has strolled aside. JOY, with + a passionate movement seen only by Miss BEECH, goes off towards + the house. MISS BEECH and MRS. GWYN aye left alone beside the + remnants of the feast.] + +MISS BEECH. Molly! + + [MRS. GWYN looks up startled.] + +Take care, Molly, take care! The child! Can't you see? +[Apostrophising LEVER.] Take care, Molly, take care! + +LEVER. [Coming back.] Awfully hot, is n't it? + +MISS BEECH. Ah! and it'll be hotter if we don't mind. + +LEVER. [Suavely.] Do we control these things? + + [MISS BEECH looking from face to face, nods her head repeatedly; + then gathering her skirts she walks towards the house. MRS. + GWYN sits motionless, staying before her.] + +Extraordinary old lady! [He pitches away his cigarette.] What's the +matter with her, Molly? + +MRS. GWYN, [With an effort.] Oh! Peachey's a character! + +LEVER. [Frowning.] So I see! [There is a silence.] + +MRS. GWYN. Maurice! + +LEVER. Yes. + +MRS. GWYN. Aunt Nell's hopeless, you mustn't mind her. + +LEVER. [In a dubious and ironic voice.] My dear girl, I 've too +much to bother me to mind trifles like that. + +MRS. GWYN. [Going to him suddenly.] Tell me, won't you? + + [LEVER shrugs his shoulders.] + +A month ago you'd have told me soon enough! + +LEVER. Now, Molly! + +MRS. GWYN. Ah! [With a bitter smile.] The Spring's soon over. + +LEVER. It 's always Spring between us. + +MRS. GWYN. Is it? + +LEVER. You did n't tell me what you were thinking about just now +when you sat there like stone. + +MRS. GWYN. It does n't do for a woman to say too much. + +LEVER. Have I been so bad to you that you need feel like that, +Molly? + +MRS. GWYN. [With a little warm squeeze of his arm.] Oh! my dear, +it's only that I'm so--- + +[She stops.] + +LEVER. [Gently]. So what? + +MRS. GWYN. [In a low voice.] It's hateful here. + +LEVER. I didn't want to come. I don't understand why you suggested +it. [MRS. GWYN is silent.] It's been a mistake. + +MRS. GWYN. [Her eyes fixed on the ground.] Joy comes home +to-morrow. I thought if I brought you here--I should know---- + +LEVER. [Vexedly.] Um! + +MRS. GWYN. [Losing her control.] Can't you SEE? It haunts me? How +are we to go on? I must know--I must know! + +LEVER. I don't see that my coming---- + +MRS. GWYN. I thought I should have more confidence; I thought I +should be able to face it better in London, if you came down here +openly--and now--I feel I must n't speak or look at you. + +LEVER. You don't think your Aunt---- + +MRS. GWYN. [Scornfully.] She! It's only Joy I care about. + +LEVER. [Frowning.] We must be more careful, that's all. We mustn't +give ourselves away again, as we were doing just now. + +MRS. GWYN. When any one says anything horrid to you, I can't help +it. + + [She puts her hand on the label of his coat.] + +LEVER. My dear child, take care! + + [MRS. GWYN drops her hand. She throws her head back, and her + throat is seen to work as though she were gulping down a bitter + draught. She moves away.] + +[Following hastily.] Don't dear, don't! I only meant--Come, Molly, +let's be sensible. I want to tell you something about the mine. + +MRS. GWYN. [With a quavering smile.] Yes-let 's talk sensibly, and +walk properly in this sensible, proper place. + + [LEVER is seen trying to soothe her, and yet to walk properly. + As they disappear, they are viewed by JOY, who, like the shadow + parted from its figure, has come to join it again. She stands + now, foiled, a carnation in her hand; then flings herself on a + chair, and leans her elbows on the table.] + +JOY. I hate him! Pig! + +ROSE. [Who has come to clear the tea things.] Did you call, Miss? + +JOY. Not you! + +ROSE. [Motionless.] No, Miss! + +JOY. [Leaning back and tearing the flower.] Oh! do hurry up, Rose! + +ROSE. [Collects the tea things.] Mr. Dick's coming down the path! +Aren't I going to get you to do your frock, Miss Joy? + +JOY. No. + +ROSE. What will the Missis say? + +JOY. Oh, don't be so stuck, Rose! + + [ROSE goes, but DICK has come.] + +DICK. Come on the river, Joy, just for half an hour, as far as the +kingfishers--do! [Joy shakes her head.] Why not? It 'll be so +jolly and cool. I'm most awfully sorry if I worried you this +morning. I didn't mean to. I won't again, I promise. [Joy slides a +look at him, and from that look he gains a little courage.] Do come! +It'll be the last time. I feel it awfully, Joy. + +JOY. There's nothing to hurt you! + +DICK. [Gloomily.] Isn't there--when you're like this? + +JOY. [In a hard voice.] If you don't like me, why do you follow me +about? + +DICK. What is the matter? + +JOY. [Looking up, as if for want of air.] Oh! Don't! + +DICK. Oh, Joy, what is the matter? Is it the heat? + +JOY. [With a little laugh.] Yes. + +DICK. Have some Eau de Cologne. I 'll make you a bandage. [He +takes the Eau de Cologne, and makes a bandage with his handkerchief.] +It's quite clean. + +JOY. Oh, Dick, you are so funny! + +DICK. [Bandaging her forehead.] I can't bear you to feel bad; it +puts me off completely. I mean I don't generally make a fuss about +people, but when it 's you---- + +JOY. [Suddenly.] I'm all right. + +DICK. Is that comfy? + +JOY. [With her chin up, and her eyes fast closed.] Quite. + +DICK. I'm not going to stay and worry you. You ought to rest. +Only, Joy! Look here! If you want me to do anything for you, any +time---- + +JOY. [Half opening her eyes.] Only to go away. + + [DICK bites his lips and walks away.] + +Dick--[softly]--Dick! + + [DICK stops.] + +I didn't mean that; will you get me some water-irises for this +evening? + +DICK. Won't I? [He goes to the hollow tree and from its darkness +takes a bucket and a boat-hook.] I know where there are some +rippers! + + [JOY stays unmoving with her eyes half closed.] + +Are you sure you 're all right. Joy? You 'll just rest here in the +shade, won't you, till I come back?--it 'll do you no end of good. I +shan't be twenty minutes. + + [He goes, but cannot help returning softly, to make sure.] + +You're quite sure you 're all right? + + [JOY nods. He goes away towards the river. But there is no + rest for JOY. The voices of MRS. GWYN and LEVER are heard + returning.] + +JOY. [With a gesture of anger.] Hateful! Hateful! + + [She runs away.] + + [MRS. GWYN and LEVER are seen approaching; they pass the tree, + in conversation.] + +MRS. GWYN. But I don't see why, Maurice. + +LEVER. We mean to sell the mine; we must do some more work on it, +and for that we must have money. + +MRS. GWYN. If you only want a little, I should have thought you +could have got it in a minute in the City. + +LEVER. [Shaking his head.] No, no; we must get it privately. + +MRS. GWYN. [Doubtfully.] Oh! [She slowly adds.] Then it isn't +such a good thing! + + [And she does not look at him.] + +LEVER. Well, we mean to sell it. + +MRS. GWYN. What about the people who buy? + +LEVER. [Dubiously regarding her.] My dear girl, they've just as +much chance as we had. It 's not my business to think of them. +There's YOUR thousand pounds---- + +MRS. GWYN. [Softly.] Don't bother about my money, Maurice. I don't +want you to do anything not quite---- + +LEVER. [Evasively.] Oh! There's my brother's and my sister's too. +I 'm not going to let any of you run any risk. When we all went in +for it the thing looked splendid; it 's only the last month that we +'ve had doubts. What bothers me now is your Uncle. I don't want him +to take these shares. It looks as if I'd come here on purpose. + +MRS. GWYN. Oh! he mustn't take them! + +LEVER. That 's all very well; but it 's not so simple. + +MRS. GWYN. [Shyly.] But, Maurice, have you told him about the +selling? + +LEVER. [Gloomily, under the hollow tree.] It 's a Board secret. +I'd no business to tell even you. + +MRS. GWYN. But he thinks he's taking shares in a good--a permanent +thing. + +LEVER. You can't go into a mining venture without some risk. + +MRS. GWYN. Oh yes, I know--but--but Uncle Tom is such a dear! + +LEVER. [Stubbornly.] I can't help his being the sort of man he is. +I did n't want him to take these shares; I told him so in so many +words. Put yourself in my place, Molly: how can I go to him and say, +"This thing may turn out rotten," when he knows I got you to put your +money into it? + + [But JOY, the lost shadow, has come back. She moves forward + resolutely. They are divided from her by the hollow tree; she + is unseen. She stops.] + +MRS. GWYN. I think he ought to be told about the selling; it 's not +fair. + +LEVER. What on earth made him rush at the thing like that? I don't +understand that kind of man. + +MRS. GWYN. [Impulsively.] I must tell him, Maurice; I can't let him +take the shares without---- + + [She puts her hand on his arm.] + + [Joy turns, as if to go back whence she came, but stops once + more.] + +LEVER. [Slowly and very quietly.] I did n't think you'd give me +away, Molly. + +MRS. GWYN. I don't think I quite understand. + +LEVER. If you tell the Colonel about this sale the poor old chap +will think me a man that you ought to have nothing to do with. Do +you want that? + + [MRS. GWYN, giving her lover a long look, touches his sleeve. + JOY, slipping behind the hollow tree, has gone.] + +You can't act in a case like this as if you 'd only a principle to +consider. It 's the--the special circumstances. + +MRS. GWYN. [With a faint smile.] But you'll be glad to get the +money won't you? + +LEVER. By George! if you're going to take it like this, Molly + +MRS. GWYN. Don't! + +LEVER. We may not sell after all, dear, we may find it turn out +trumps. + +MRS. GWYN. [With a shiver.] I don't want to hear any more. I know +women don't understand. [Impulsively.] It's only that I can't bear +any one should think that you---- + +LEVER. [Distressed.] For goodness sake don't look like that, Molly! +Of course, I'll speak to your Uncle. I'll stop him somehow, even if +I have to make a fool of myself. I 'll do anything you want---- + +MRS. GWYN. I feel as if I were being smothered here. + +LEVER. It 's only for one day. + +MRS. GWYN. [With sudden tenderness.] It's not your fault, dear. I +ought to have known how it would be. Well, let's go in! + + [She sets her lips, and walks towards the house with LEVER + following. But no sooner has she disappeared than JOY comes + running after; she stops, as though throwing down a challenge. + Her cheeks and ears are burning.] + +JOY. Mother! + + [After a moment MRS. GWYN reappears in the opening of the wall.] + +MRS. GWYN. Oh! here you are! + +JOY. [Breathlessly.] Yes. + +MRS. GWYN. [Uncertainly.] Where--have you been? You look +dreadfully hot; have you been running? + +JOY. Yes----no. + +MRS. GWYN. [Looking at her fixedly.] What's the matter--you 're +trembling! [Softly.] Are n't you well, dear? + +JOY. Yes--I don't know. + +MRS. GWYN. What is it, darling? + +JOY. [Suddenly clinging to her.] Oh! Mother! + +MRS. GWYN. I don't understand. + +JOY. [Breathlessly.] Oh, Mother, let me go back home with you now +at once---- +MRS. GWYN. [Her face hardening.] Why? What on earth---- + +JOY. I can't stay here. + +MRS. GWYN. But why? + +JOY. I want to be with you--Oh! Mother, don't you love me? + +MRS. GWYN. [With a faint smile.] Of course I love you, Joy. + +JOY. Ah! but you love him more. + +MRS. GWYN. Love him--whom? + +JOY. Oh! Mother, I did n't--[She tries to take her Mother's hand, +but fails.] Oh! don't. + +MRS. GWYN. You'd better explain what you mean, I think. + +JOY. I want to get you to--he--he 's--he 'snot----! + +MRS. GWYN. [Frigidly.] Really, Joy! + +JOY. [Passionately.] I'll fight against him, and I know there's +something wrong about---- + + [She stops.] + +MRS. GWYN. About what? + +JOY. Let's tell Uncle Tom, Mother, and go away. + +MRS. GWYN. Tell Uncle--Tom--what? + +JOY. [Looking down and almost whispering.] About--about--the mine. + +MRS. GWYN. What about the mine? What do you mean? [Fiercely.] +Have you been spying on me? + +JOY. [Shrinking.] No! oh, no! + +MRS. GWYN. Where were you? + +JOY. [Just above her breath.] I--I heard something. + +MRS. GWYN. [Bitterly.] But you were not spying? + +JOY. I was n't--I wasn't! I didn't want--to hear. I only heard a +little. I couldn't help listening, Mother. + +MRS. GWYN. [With a little laugh.] Couldn't help listening? + +JOY. [Through her teeth.] I hate him. I didn't mean to listen, but +I hate him. + +MRS. GWYN. I see. Why do you hate him? + + [There is a silence.] + +JOY. He--he----[She stops.] + + +MRS. GWYN. Yes? + +JOY. [With a sort of despair.] I don't know. Oh! I don't know! +But I feel---- + +MRS. GWYN. I can't reason with you. As to what you heard, it 's-- +ridiculous. + +JOY. It 's not that. It 's--it 's you! + +MRS. GWYN. [Stonily.] I don't know what you mean. + +JOY. [Passionately.] I wish Dad were here! + +MRS. GWYN. Do you love your Father as much as me? + +JOY. Oh! Mother, no-you know I don't. + +MRS. GWYN. [Resentfully.] Then why do you want him? + +JOY. [Almost under her breath.] Because of that man. + +MRS. GWYN. Indeed! + +JOY. I will never--never make friends with him. + +MRS. GWYN. [Cuttingly.] I have not asked you to. + +JOY. [With a blind movement of her hand.] Oh, Mother! + + [MRS. GWYN half turns away.] + +Mother--won't you? Let's tell Uncle Tom and go away from him? + +MRS. GWYN. If you were not, a child, Joy, you wouldn't say such +things. + +JOY. [Eagerly.] I'm not a child, I'm--I'm a woman. I am. + +MRS. GWYN. No! You--are--not a woman, Joy. + + [She sees joy throw up her arms as though warding off a blow, + and turning finds that LEVER is standing in the opening of the + wall.] + +LEVER. [Looking from face to face.] What's the matter? [There is +no answer.] What is it, Joy? + +JOY. [Passionately.] I heard you, I don't care who knows. I'd +listen again. + +LEVER. [Impassively.] Ah! and what did I say that was so very +dreadful? + +JOY. You're a--a--you 're a--coward! + +MRS. GWYN. [With a sort of groan.] Joy! + +LEVER. [Stepping up to JOY, and standing with his hands behind him-- +in a low voice.] Now hit me in the face--hit me--hit me as hard as +you can. Go on, Joy, it'll do you good. + + [Joy raises her clenched hand, but drops it, and hides her + face.] + +Why don't you? I'm not pretending! + + [Joy makes no sign.] + +Come, joy; you'll make yourself ill, and that won't help, will it? + + [But joy still makes no sign.] + +[With determination.] What's the matter? now come--tell me! + +JOY. [In a stifled, sullen voice.] Will you leave my mother alone? + +MRS. GWYN. Oh! my dear Joy, don't be silly! + +JOY. [Wincing; then with sudden passion.] I defy you--I defy you! +[She rushes from their sight.] + +MRS. GWYN. [With a movement of distress.] Oh! + +LEVER. [Turning to MRS. GWYN with a protecting gesture.] Never +mind, dear! It'll be--it'll be all right! + + [But the expression of his face is not the expression of his + words.] + + + The curtain falls. + + + + + +ACT III + + It is evening; a full yellow moon is shining through the + branches of the hollow tree. The Chinese lanterns are alight. + There is dancing in the house; the music sounds now loud, now + soft. MISS BEECH is sitting on the rustic seat in a black + bunchy evening dress, whose inconspicuous opening is inlaid with + white. She slowly fans herself. + + DICK comes from the house in evening dress. He does not see + Miss BEECH. + + +DICK. Curse! [A short silence.] Curse! + +MISS BEECH. Poor young man! + +DICK. [With a start.] Well, Peachey, I can't help it +[He fumbles off his gloves.] + +MISS BEECH. Did you ever know any one that could? + +DICK. [Earnestly.] It's such awfully hard lines on Joy. I can't get +her out of my head, lying there with that beastly headache while +everybody's jigging round. + +MISS BEECH. Oh! you don't mind about yourself--noble young man! + +DICK. I should be a brute if I did n't mind more for her. + +MISS BEECH. So you think it's a headache, do you? + +DICK. Did n't you hear what Mrs. Gwyn said at dinner about the sun? +[With inspiration.] I say, Peachey, could n't you--could n't you +just go up and give her a message from me, and find out if there 's +anything she wants, and say how brutal it is that she 's seedy; it +would be most awfully decent of you. And tell her the dancing's no +good without her. Do, Peachey, now do! Ah! and look here! + + [He dives into the hollow of the tree, and brings from out of it + a pail of water in which are placed two bottles of champagne, + and some yellow irises--he takes the irises.] + +You might give her these. I got them specially for her, and I have +n't had a chance. + +MISS BEECH. [Lifting a bottle.] What 's this? + +DICK. Fizz. The Colonel brought it from the George. It 's for +supper; he put it in here because of--[Smiling faintly]--Mrs. Hope, +I think. Peachey, do take her those irises. + +MISS. BEECH. D' you think they'll do her any good? + +DICK. [Crestfallen.] I thought she'd like--I don't want to worry +her--you might try. + + [MISS BEECH shakes her head.] + +Why not? + +MISS BEECH. The poor little creature won't let me in. + +DICK. You've been up then! + +MISS BEECH. [Sharply.] Of course I've been up. I've not got a +stone for my heart, young man! + +DICK. All right! I suppose I shall just have to get along somehow. + +MISS BEECH. [With devilry.] That's what we've all got to do. + +DICK. [Gloomily.] But this is too brutal for anything! + +MISS BEECH. Worse than ever happened to any one! + +DICK. I swear I'm not thinking of myself. + +MISS BEECH. Did y' ever know anybody that swore they were? + +DICK. Oh! shut up! + +MISS BEECH. You'd better go in and get yourself a partner. + +DICK. [With pale desperation.] Look here, Peachey, I simply loathe +all those girls. + +MISS BEECH. Ah-h! [Ironically.] Poor lot, are n't they? + +DICK. All right; chaff away, it's good fun, isn't it? It makes me +sick to dance when Joy's lying there. Her last night, too! + +MISS BEECH. [Sidling to him.] You're a good young man, and you 've +got a good heart. + + [She takes his hand, and puts it to her cheek.] + +DICK. Peachey--I say, Peachey d' you think there 's--I mean d' you +think there'll ever be any chance for me? + +MISS BEECH. I thought that was coming! I don't approve of your +making love at your time of life; don't you think I 'm going to +encourage you. + +DICK. But I shall be of age in a year; my money's my own, it's not +as if I had to ask any one's leave; and I mean, I do know my own +mind. + +MISS BEECH. Of course you do. Nobody else would at your age, but +you do. + +DICK. I would n't ask her to promise, it would n't be fair when +she 's so young, but I do want her to know that I shall never change. + +MISS BEECH. And suppose--only suppose--she's fond of you, and says +she'll never change. + +DICK. Oh! Peachey! D' you think there's a chance of that--do you? + +MISS BEECH. A-h-h! + +DICK. I wouldn't let her bind herself, I swear I wouldn't. +[Solemnly.] I'm not such a selfish brute as you seem to think. + +MISS BEECH. [Sidling close to him and in a violent whisper.] Well-- +have a go! + +DICK. Really? You are a brick, Peachey! + + [He kisses her.] + +MISS BEACH. [Yielding pleasurably; then remembering her principles.] +Don't you ever say I said so! You're too young, both of you. + +DICK. But it is exceptional--I mean in my case, is n't it? + + [The COLONEL and MRS. GWYN are coming down the lawn.] + +MISS BEECH. Oh! very! + + [She sits beneath the tree and fans herself.] + +COLONEL. The girls are all sitting out, Dick! I've been obliged to +dance myself. Phew! + + [He mops his brow.] + + [DICK swinging round goes rushing off towards the house.] + +[Looking after him.] Hallo! What's the matter with him? Cooling +your heels, Peachey? By George! it's hot. Fancy the poor devils in +London on a night like this, what? [He sees the moon.] It's a full +moon. You're lucky to be down here, Molly. + +MRS. GWYN. [In a low voice.] Very! + +MISS BEECH. Oh! so you think she's lucky, do you? + +COLONEL. [Expanding his nostrils.] Delicious scent to-night! Hay +and roses--delicious. + + [He seats himself between them.] + +A shame that poor child has knocked up like this. Don't think it was +the sun myself--more likely neuralgic--she 's subject to neuralgia, +Molly. + +MRS. GWYN. [Motionless.] I know. + +COLONEL. Got too excited about your coming. I told Nell not to keep +worrying her about her frock, and this is the result. But your Aunt +--you know--she can't let a thing alone! + +MISS BEECH. Ah! 't isn't neuralgia. + + [MRS. GWYN looks at her quickly and averts her eyes.] + +COLONEL. Excitable little thing. You don't understand her, Peachey. + +MISS BEECH. Don't I? + +COLONEL. She's all affection. Eh, Molly? I remember what I was +like at her age, a poor affectionate little rat, and now look at me! + +MISS BEECH. [Fanning herself.] I see you. + +COLONEL. [A little sadly.] We forget what we were like when we were +young. She's been looking forward to to-night ever since you wrote; +and now to have to go to bed and miss the dancing. Too bad! + +MRS. GWYN. Don't, Uncle Tom! + +COLONEL. [Patting her hand.] There, there, old girl, don't think +about it. She'll be all right tomorrow. + +MISS BEECH. If I were her mother I'd soon have her up. + +COLONEL. Have her up with that headache! What are you talking +about, Peachey? + +MISS BEECH. I know a remedy. + +COLONEL. Well, out with it. + +MISS BEECH. Oh! Molly knows it too! + +MRS. GWYN. [Staring at the ground.] It's easy to advise. + +COLONEL. [Fidgetting.] Well, if you're thinking of morphia for her, +don't have anything to do with it. I've always set my face against +morphia; the only time I took it was in Burmah. I'd raging neuralgia +for two days. I went to our old doctor, and I made him give me some. +"Look here, doctor," I said, "I hate the idea of morphia, I 've never +taken it, and I never want to." + +MISS BEECH. [Looking at MRS. GWYN.] When a tooth hurts, you should +have it out. It 's only puttin' off the evil day. + +COLONEL. You say that because it was n't your own. + +MISS BEECH. Well, it was hollow, and you broke your principles! + +COLONEL. Hollow yourself, Peachey; you're as bad as any one! + +MISS BEECH [With devilry.] Well, I know that! [She turns to MRS. +GWYN.] He should have had it out! Shouldn't he, Molly? + +MRS. GWYN. I--don't--judge for other people. + + [She gets up suddenly, as though deprived of air.] + +COLONEL. [Alarmed.] Hallo, Molly! Are n't you feeling the thing, +old girl? + +MISS BEECH. Let her get some air, poor creature! + +COLONEL. [Who follows anxiously.] Your Aunt's got some first-rate +sal volatile. + +MRS. GWYN. It's all right, Uncle Tom. I felt giddy, it's nothing, +now. + +COLONEL. That's the dancing. [He taps his forehead.] I know what +it is when you're not used to it. + +MRS. GWYN. [With a sudden bitter outburst.] I suppose you think I +'m a very bad mother to be amusing myself while joy's suffering. + +COLONEL. My dear girl, whatever put such a thought into your head? +We all know if there were anything you could do, you'd do it at once, +would n't she, Peachey? + + [MISS BEECH turns a slow look on MRS. GWYN.] + +MRS. GWYN. Ah! you see, Peachey knows me better. + +COLONEL. [Following up his thoughts.] I always think women are +wonderful. There's your Aunt, she's very funny, but if there's +anything the matter with me, she'll sit up all night; but when she's +ill herself, and you try to do anything for her, out she raps at +once. + +MRS. GWYN. [In a low voice.] There's always one that a woman will +do anything for. + +COLONEL. Exactly what I say. With your Aunt it's me, and by George! +Molly, sometimes I wish it was n't. + +MISS BEECH, [With meaning.] But is it ever for another woman! + +COLONEL. You old cynic! D' you mean to say Joy wouldn't do anything +on earth for her Mother, or Molly for Joy? You don't know human +nature. What a wonderful night! Have n't seen such a moon for +years, she's like a great, great lamp! + + [MRS. GWYN hiding from Miss BEECH's eyes, rises and slips her + arm through his; they stand together looking at the moon.] + +Don't like these Chinese lanterns, with that moon-tawdry! eh! By +Jove, Molly, I sometimes think we humans are a rubbishy lot--each of +us talking and thinking of nothing but our own petty little affairs; +and when you see a great thing like that up there--[Sighs.] But +there's your Aunt, if I were to say a thing like that to her she 'd-- +she'd think me a lunatic; and yet, you know, she 's a very good +woman. + +MRS. GWYN. [Half clinging to him.] Do you think me very selfish, +Uncle Tom? + +COLONEL. My dear--what a fancy! Think you selfish--of course I +don't; why should I? + +MRS. GWYN. [Dully.] I don't know. + +COLONEL. [Changing the subject nervously.] I like your friend, +Lever, Molly. He came to me before dinner quite distressed about +your Aunt, beggin' me not to take those shares. She 'll be the first +to worry me, but he made such a point of it, poor chap--in the end I +was obliged to say I wouldn't. I thought it showed very' nice +feeling. [Ruefully.] It's a pretty tight fit to make two ends meet +on my income--I've missed a good thing, all owing to your Aunt. +[Dropping his voice.] I don't mind telling you, Molly, I think +they've got a much finer mine there than they've any idea of. + + [MRS. GWYN gives way to laughter that is very near to sobs.] + +[With dignity.] I can't see what there is to laugh at. + +MRS. GWYN. I don't know what's the matter with me this evening. + +MISS BEECH. [In a low voice.] I do. + +COLONEL. There, there! Give me a kiss, old girl! [He kisses her on +the brow.] Why, your forehead's as hot as fire. I know--I know-you +'re fretting about Joy. Never mind--come! [He draws her hand +beneath his arm.] Let's go and have a look at the moon on the river. +We all get upset at times; eh! [Lifting his hand as if he had been +stung.] Why, you 're not crying, Molly! I say! Don't do that, old +girl, it makes me wretched. Look here, Peachey. [Holding out the +hand on which the tear has dropped.] This is dreadful! + +MRS. GWYN. [With a violent effort.] It's all right, Uncle Tom! + + [MISS BEECH wipes her own eyes stealthily. From the house is + heard the voice of MRS. HOPE, calling "Tom."] + +MISS BEECH. Some one calling you. + +COLONEL. There, there, my dear, you just stay here, and cool +yourself--I 'll come back--shan't be a minute. [He turns to go.] + + [MRS. HOPE'S voice sounds nearer.] + +[Turning back.] And Molly, old girl, don't you mind anything I said. +I don't remember what it was--it must have been something, I suppose. + + [He hastily retreats.] + +MRS. GWYN. [In a fierce low voice.] Why do you torture me? + +MISS BEECH. [Sadly.] I don't want to torture you. + +MRS. GWYN, But you do. D' you think I haven't seen this coming--all +these weeks. I knew she must find out some time! But even a day +counts---- + +MISS BEECH. I don't understand why you brought him down here. + +MRS. GWYN. [After staring at her, bitterly.] When day after day and +night after night you've thought of nothing but how to keep them +both, you might a little want to prove that it was possible, mightn't +you? But you don't understand--how should you? You've never been a +mother! [And fiercely.] You've never had a lov---- + + [MISS BEECH raises her face-it is all puckered.] + +[Impulsively.] Oh, I did n't mean that, Peachey! + +MISS BEECH. All right, my dear. + +MRS. GWYN. I'm so dragged in two! [She sinks into a chair.] I knew +it must come. + +MISS BEECH. Does she know everything, Molly? + +MRS. GWYN. She guesses. + +MISS BEECH. [Mournfully.] It's either him or her then, my dear; one +or the other you 'll have to give up. + +MRS. GWYN. [Motionless.] Life's very hard on women! + +MISS BEECH. Life's only just beginning for that child, Molly. + +MRS. GWYN. You don't care if it ends for me! + +MISS BEECH. Is it as bad as that? + +MRS. GWYN. Yes. + +MISS BEECH. [Rocking hey body.] Poor things! Poor things! + +MRS. GWYN. Are you still fond of me? + +MISS BEECH. Yes, yes, my dear, of course I am. + +MRS. GWYN. In spite of my-wickedness? + + [She laughs.] + +MISS BEECH. Who am I to tell what's wicked and what is n't? God +knows you're both like daughters to me! + +MRS. GWYN. [Abruptly.] I can't. + +MISS BEECH. Molly. + +MRS. GWYN. You don't know what you're asking. + +MISS BEECH. If I could save you suffering, my dear, I would. I hate +suffering, if it 's only a fly, I hate it. + +MRS. GWYN. [Turning away from her.] Life is n't fair. Peachey, go +in and leave me alone. + + [She leans back motionless.] + + [Miss BEECH gets off her seat, and stroking MRS. GWYN's arm in + passing goes silently away. In the opening of the wall she + meets LEVER who is looking for his partner. They make way for + each other.] + +LEVER. [Going up to MRS. GWYN--gravely.] The next is our dance, +Molly. + +MRS. GWYN. [Unmoving.] Let's sit it out here, then. + + [LEVER sits down.] + +LEVER. I've made it all right with your Uncle. + +MRS. GWYN. [Dully.] Oh? + +LEVER. I spoke to him about the shares before dinner. + +MRS. GWYN. Yes, he told me, thank you. + +LEVER. There 's nothing to worry over, dear. + +MRS. GWYN. [Passionately.] What does it matter about the wretched +shares now? I 'm stifling. + + [She throws her scarf off.] + +LEVER. I don't understand what you mean by "now." + +MRS. GWYN. Don't you? + +LEVER. We were n't--Joy can't know--why should she? I don't believe +for a minute---- + +MRS. GWYN. Because you don't want to. + +LEVER. Do you mean she does? + +MRS. GWYN. Her heart knows. + + [LEVER makes a movement of discomfiture; suddenly MRS. GWYN + looks at him as though to read his soul.] + +I seem to bring you nothing but worry, Maurice. Are you tired of me? + +LEVER. [Meeting her eyes.] No, I am not. + +MRS. GWYN. Ah, but would you tell me if you were? + +LEVER. [Softly.] Sufficient unto the day is the evil thereof. + + [MRS. GWYN struggles to look at him, then covers her face with + her hands.] + +MRS. GWYN. If I were to give you up, you'd forget me in a month. + +LEVER. Why do you say such things? + +MRS. GWYN. If only I could believe I was necessary to you! + +LEVER. [Forcing the fervour of his voice.] But you are! + +MRS. GWYN. Am I? [With the ghost of a smile.] Midsummer day! + + [She gives a laugh that breaks into a sob.] + + [The music o f a waltz sounds from the house.] + +LEVER. For God's sake, don't, Molly--I don't believe in going to +meet trouble. + +MRS. GWYN. It's staring me in the face. + +LEVER. Let the future take care of itself! + + [MRS. GWYN has turned away her face, covering it with her + hands.] + +Don't, Molly! [Trying to pull her hands away.] Don't! + +MRS. GWYN. Oh! what shall I do? + + [There is a silence; the music of the waltz sounds louder from + the house.] + +[Starting up.] Listen! One can't sit it out and dance it too. +Which is it to be, Maurice, dancing--or sitting out? It must be one +or the other, must n't it? + +LEVER. Molly! Molly! + +MRS. GWYN. Ah, my dear! [Standing away from him as though to show +herself.] How long shall I keep you? This is all that 's left of +me. It 's time I joined the wallflowers. [Smiling faintly.] It's +time I played the mother, is n't it? [In a whisper.] It'll be all +sitting out then. + +LEVER. Don't! Let's go and dance, it'll do you good. + + [He puts his hands on her arms, and in a gust of passion kisses + her lips and throat.] + +MRS. GWYN. I can't give you up--I can't. Love me, oh! love me! + + [For a moment they stand so; then, with sudden remembrance of + where they are, they move apart.] + +LEVER. Are you all right now, darling? + +MRS. GWYN. [Trying to smile.] Yes, dear--quite. + +LEVER. Then let 's go, and dance. [They go.] + +[For a few seconds the hollow tree stands alone; then from the house +ROSE comes and enters it. She takes out a bottle of champagne, wipes +it, and carries it away; but seeing MRS. GWYN's scarf lying across +the chair, she fingers it, and stops, listening to the waltz. +Suddenly draping it round her shoulders, she seizes the bottle of +champagne, and waltzes with abandon to the music, as though avenging +a long starvation of her instincts. Thus dancing, she is surprised +by DICK, who has come to smoke a cigarette and think, at the spot +where he was told to "have a go." ROSE, startled, stops and hugs the +bottle.] + +DICK. It's not claret, Rose, I should n't warm it. + + [ROSE, taking off the scarf, replaces it on the chair; then with + the half-warmed bottle, she retreats. DICK, in the swing, sits + thinking of his fate. Suddenly from behind the hollow tree he + sees Joy darting forward in her day dress with her hair about + her neck, and her skirt all torn. As he springs towards her, + she turns at bay.] + +DICK. Joy! + +JOY. I want Uncle Tom. + +DICK. [In consternation.] But ought you to have got up--I thought +you were ill in bed; oughtn't you to be lying down? + +JOY. If have n't been in bed. Where's Uncle Tom? + +DICK. But where have you been?-your dress is all torn. Look! [He +touches the torn skirt.] + +JOY. [Tearing it away.] In the fields. Where's Uncle Tom? + +DICK. Are n't you really ill then? + + [Joy shakes her head.] + +DICK, [showing her the irises.] Look at these. They were the best I +could get. + +JOY. Don't! I want Uncle Tom! + +DICK. Won't you take them? + +JOY. I 've got something else to do. + +DICK. [With sudden resolution.] What do you want the Colonel for? + +JOY. I want him. + +DICK. Alone? + +JOY. Yes. + +DICK. Joy, what is the matter? + +JOY. I 've got something to tell him. + +DICK. What? [With sudden inspiration.] Is it about Lever? + +JOY. [In a low voice.] The mine. + +DICK. The mine? + +JOY. It 's not--not a proper one. + +DICK. How do you mean, Joy? + +JOY. I overheard. I don't care, I listened. I would n't if it had +been anybody else, but I hate him. + +DICK. [Gravely.] What did you hear? + +JOY. He 's keeping back something Uncle Tom ought to know. + +DICK. Are you sure? + + [Joy makes a rush to pass him.] + +[Barring the way.] No, wait a minute--you must! Was it something +that really matters?--I don't want to know what. + +JOY. Yes, it was. + +DICK. What a beastly thing--are you quite certain, Joy? + +JOY. [Between her teeth.] Yes. + +DICK. Then you must tell him, of course, even if you did overhear. +You can't stand by and see the Colonel swindled. Whom was he talking +to? + +JOY. I won't tell you. + +DICK. [Taking her wrist.] Was it was it your Mother? + + [Joy bends her head.] + +But if it was your Mother, why does n't she---- + +JOY. Let me go! + +DICK. [Still holding her.] I mean I can't see what---- + +JOY. [Passionately.] Let me go! + +DICK. [Releasing her.] I'm thinking of your Mother, Joy. She would +never---- + +JOY. [Covering her face.] That man! + +DICK. But joy, just think! There must be some mistake. It 's so +queer--it 's quite impossible! + +JOY. He won't let her. + +DICK. Won't let her--won't let her? But [Stopping dead, and in a +very different voice.] Oh! + +JOY. [Passionately.] Why d' you look at me like that? Why can't +you speak? + + [She waits for him to speak, but he does not.] + +I'm going to show what he is, so that Mother shan't speak to him +again. I can--can't I--if I tell Uncle Tom?--can't I----? + +DICK. But Joy--if your Mother knows a thing like--that---- + +JOY. She wanted to tell--she begged him--and he would n't. + +DICK. But, joy, dear, it means---- + +JOY. I hate him, I want to make her hate him, and I will. + +DICK. But, Joy, dear, don't you see--if your Mother knows a thing +like that, and does n't speak of it, it means that she--it means that +you can't make her hate him--it means----If it were anybody else-- +but, well, you can't give your own Mother away! + +JOY. How dare you! How dare you! [Turning to the hollow tree.] It +is n't true--Oh! it is n't true! + +DICK. [In deep distress.] Joy, dear, I never meant, I didn't +really! + + [He tries to pull her hands down from her face.] + +JOY. [Suddenly.] Oh! go away, go away! + + [MRS. GWYN is seen coming back. JOY springs into the tree. + DICK quickly steals away. MRS. GWYN goes up to the chair and + takes the scarf that she has come for, and is going again when + JOY steals out to her.] + +Mother! + + [MRS. GWYN stands looking at her with her teeth set on her lower + lip.] + +Oh! Mother, it is n't true? + +MRS. GWYN. [Very still.] What is n't true? + +JOY. That you and he are---- + + [Searching her Mother's face, which is deadly still. In a + whisper.] + +Then it is true. Oh! + +MRS. GWYN. That's enough, Joy! What I am is my affair--not yours-- +do you understand? + +JOY. [Low and fierce.] Yes, I do. + +MRS. GWYN. You don't. You're only a child. + +JOY. [Passionately.] I understand that you've hurt [She stops.] + +MRS. GWYN. Do you mean your Father? + +JOY. [Bowing her head.] Yes, and--and me. [She covers her face.] +I'm--I'm ashamed. + +MRS. GWYN. I brought you into the world, and you say that to me? +Have I been a bad mother to you? + +JOY. [In a smothered voice.] Oh! Mother! + +MRS. GWYN. Ashamed? Am I to live all my life like a dead woman +because you're ashamed? Am I to live like the dead because you 're a +child that knows nothing of life? Listen, Joy, you 'd better +understand this once for all. Your Father has no right over me and +he knows it. We 've been hateful to each other for years. Can you +understand that? Don't cover your face like a child--look at me. + + [Joy drops her hands, and lifts her face. MRS. GWYN looks back + at her, her lips are quivering; she goes on speaking with + stammering rapidity.] + +D' you think--because I suffered when you were born and because I 've +suffered since with every ache you ever had, that that gives you the +right to dictate to me now? [In a dead voice.] I've been unhappy +enough and I shall be unhappy enough in the time to come. [Meeting +the hard wonder in Joy's face.] Oh! you untouched things, you're as +hard and cold as iron! + +JOY. I would do anything for you, Mother. + +MRS. GWYN. Except--let me live, Joy. That's the only thing you won't +do for me, I quite understand. + +JOY. Oh! Mother, you don't understand--I want you so; and I seem to +be nothing to you now. + +MRS. GWYN. Nothing to me? [She smiles.] + +JOY. Mother, darling, if you're so unhappy let's forget it all, +let's go away and I 'll be everything to you, I promise. + +MRS. GWYN. [With the ghost of a laugh.] Ah, Joy! + +JOY. I would try so hard. + +MRS. GWYN. [With the same quivering smile.] My darling, I know you +would, until you fell in love yourself. + +JOY. Oh, Mother, I wouldn't, I never would, I swear it. + +MRS. GWYN. There has never been a woman, joy, that did not fall in +love. + +JOY. [In a despairing whisper.] But it 's wrong of you it's wicked! + +MRS. GWYN. If it's wicked, I shall pay for it, not you! + +JOY. But I want to save you, Mother! + +MRS. GWYN. Save me? [Breaking into laughter.] + +JOY. I can't bear it that you--if you 'll only--I'll never leave +you. You think I don't know what I 'm saying, but I do, because even +now I--I half love somebody. Oh, Mother! [Pressing her breast.] +I feel--I feel so awful--as if everybody knew. + +MRS. GWYN. You think I'm a monster to hurt you. Ah! yes! You'll +understand better some day. + +JOY. [In a sudden outburst of excited fear.] I won't believe it-- +I--I--can't--you're deserting me, Mother. + +MRS. GWYN. Oh, you untouched things! You---- + + [Joy' looks up suddenly, sees her face, and sinks down on her + knees.] + +JOY. Mother--it 's for me! + +GWYN. Ask for my life, JOY--don't be afraid. + + [Joy turns her face away. MRS. GWYN bends suddenly and touches + her daughter's hair; JOY shrinks from that touch.] + +[Recoiling as though she had been stung.] I forgot--I 'm deserting +you. + + [And swiftly without looking back she goes away. Joy, left alone + under the hollow tree, crouches lower, and her shoulders shake. + Here DICK finds her, when he hears no longer any sound o f + voices. He falls on his knees beside her.] + +DICK. Oh! Joy; dear, don't cry. It's so dreadful to see you! I 'd +do anything not to see you cry! Say something. + + [Joy is still for a moment, then the shaking of the shoulders + begins again.] + +Joy, darling! It's so awful, you 'll make yourself ill, and it is +n't worth it, really. I 'd do anything to save you pain--won't you +stop just for a minute? + + [Joy is still again.] + +Nothing in the world 's worth your crying, Joy. Give me just a +little look! + +JOY. [Looking; in a smothered voice.] Don't! + +DICK. You do look so sweet! Oh, Joy, I'll comfort you, I'll take it +all on myself. I know all about it. + + [Joy gives a sobbing laugh] + +I do. I 've had trouble too, I swear I have. It gets better, it +does really. + +JOY. You don't know--it's--it's---- + +DICK. Don't think about it! No, no, no! I know exactly what it's +like. [He strokes her arm.] + +JOY. [Shrinking, in a whisper.] You mustn't. + + [The music of a waltz is heard again.] + +DICK. Look here, joy! It's no good, we must talk it over calmly. + +JOY. You don't see! It's the--it 's the disgrace---- + +DICK. Oh! as to disgrace--she's your Mother, whatever she does; I'd +like to see anybody say anything about her--[viciously]--I'd punch +his head. + +JOY. [Gulping her tears.] That does n't help. + +DICK. But if she doesn't love your Father---- + +JOY. But she's married to him! + +DICK. [Hastily.] Yes, of course, I know, marriage is awfully +important; but a man understands these things. + + [Joy looks at him. Seeing the impression he has made, he tries + again.] + +I mean, he understands better than a woman. I've often argued about +moral questions with men up at Oxford. + +JOY. [Catching at a straw.] But there's nothing to argue about. + +DICK. [Hastily.] Of course, I believe in morals. + + [They stare solemnly at each other.] + +Some men don't. But I can't help seeing marriage is awfully +important. + +JOY. [Solemnly.] It's sacred. + +DICK. Yes, I know, but there must be exceptions, Joy. + +Joy. [Losing herself a little in the stress of this discussion.] +How can there be exceptions if a thing 's sacred? + +DICK. [Earnestly.] All rules have exceptions; that's true, you +know; it's a proverb. + +JOY. It can't be true about marriage--how can it when----? + +DICK. [With intense earnestness.] But look here, Joy, I know a +really clever man--an author. He says that if marriage is a failure +people ought to be perfectly free; it isn't everybody who believes +that marriage is everything. Of course, I believe it 's sacred, but +if it's a failure, I do think it seems awful--don't you? + +JOY. I don't know--yes--if--[Suddenly] But it's my own Mother! + +DICK. [Gravely.] I know, of course. I can't expect you to see it +in your own case like this. [With desperation.] But look here, Joy, +this'll show you! If a person loves a person, they have to decide, +have n't they? Well, then, you see, that 's what your Mother's done. + +JOY. But that does n't show me anything! + +DICK. But it does. The thing is to look at it as if it was n't +yourself. If it had been you and me in love, Joy, and it was wrong, +like them, of course [ruefully] I know you'd have decided right. +[Fiercely.] But I swear I should have decided wrong. +[Triumphantly.] That 's why I feel I understand your Mother. + +JOY. [Brushing her sleeve across her eyes.] Oh, Dick, you are so +sweet--and--and--funny! + +DICK. [Sliding his arm about her.] I love you, Joy, that 's why, +and I 'll love you till you don't feel it any more. I will. I'll +love you all day and every day; you shan't miss anything, I swear it. +It 's such a beautiful night--it 's on purpose. Look' [JOY looks; he +looks at her.] But it 's not so beautiful as you. + +JOY. [Bending her head.] You mustn't. I don't know--what's coming? + +DICK. [Sidling closer.] Are n't your knees tired, darling? I--I +can't get near you properly. + +JOY. [With a sob.] Oh! Dick, you are a funny--comfort! + +DICK. We'll stick together, Joy, always; nothing'll matter then. + + [They struggle to their feet-the waltz sounds louder.] + +You're missing it all! I can't bear you to miss the dancing. It +seems so queer! Couldn't we? Just a little turn? + +JOY. No, no? + +DICK. Oh! try! + + [He takes her gently by the waist, she shrinks back.] + +JOY. [Brokenly.] No-no! Oh! Dick-to-morrow 'll be so awful. + +DICK. To-morrow shan't hurt you, Joy; nothing shall ever hurt you +again. + + [She looks at him, and her face changes; suddenly she buries it + against his shoulder.] + +[They stand so just a moment in the moon light; then turning to the +river move slowly out of sight. Again the hollow tree is left alone. +The music of the waltz has stopped. The voices of MISS BEECH and the +COLONEL are heard approaching from the house. They appear in the +opening of the wall. The COLONEL carries a pair of field glasses +with which to look at the Moon.] + +COLONEL. Charming to see Molly dance with Lever, their steps go so +well together! I can always tell when a woman's enjoying herself, +Peachey. + +MISS BEECH. [Sharply.] Can you? You're very clever. + +COLONEL. Wonderful, that moon! I'm going to have a look at her! +Splendid glasses these, Peachy [he screws them out], not a better +pair in England. I remember in Burmah with these glasses I used to +be able to tell a man from a woman at two miles and a quarter. And +that's no joke, I can tell you. [But on his way to the moon, he has +taken a survey of the earth to the right along the river. In a low +but excited voice] I say, I say--is it one of the maids--the +baggage! Why! It's Dick! By George, she's got her hair down, +Peachey! It's Joy! + + [MISS BEECH goes to look. He makes as though to hand the + glasses to her, but puts them to his own eyes instead-- + excitedly.] + +It is! What about her headache? By George, they're kissing. I say, +Peachey! I shall have to tell Nell! + +MISS BEECH. Are you sure they're kissing? Well, that's some +comfort. + +COLONEL. They're at the stile now. Oughtn't I to stop them, eh? +[He stands on tiptoe.] We must n't spy on them, dash it all. [He +drops the glasses.] They're out of sight now. + +MISS BEECH. [To herself.] He said he wouldn't let her. + +COLONEL. What! have you been encouraging them! + +MISS BEECH. Don't be in such a hurry! + + [She moves towards the hollow tree.] + +COLONEL. [Abstractedly.] By George, Peachey, to think that Nell and +I were once--Poor Nell! I remember just such a night as this-- + + [He stops, and stares before him, sighing.] + +MISS BEECH, [Impressively.] It's a comfort she's got that good young +man. She's found out that her mother and this Mr. Lever are--you +know. + +COLONEL. [Losing all traces of his fussiness, and drawing himself up +as though he were on parade.] You tell me that my niece? + +MISS BEECH. Out of her own mouth! + +COLONEL. [Bowing his head.] I never would have believed she'd have +forgotten herself. + +MISS BEECH. [Very solemnly.] Ah, my dear! We're all the same; +we're all as hollow as that tree! When it's ourselves it's always a +special case! + + [The COLONEL makes a movement of distress, and Miss BEECH goes + to him.] + +Don't you take it so to heart, my dear! + + [A silence.] + +COLONEL. [Shaking his head.] I couldn't have believed Molly would +forget that child. + +MISS BEECH. [Sadly.] They must go their own ways, poor things! She +can't put herself in the child's place, and the child can't put +herself in Molly's. A woman and a girl--there's the tree of life +between them! + +COLONEL. [Staring into the tree to see indeed if that were the tree +alluded to.] It's a grief to me, Peachey, it's a grief! [He sinks +into a chair, stroking his long moustaches. Then to avenge his +hurt.] Shan't tell Nell--dashed if I do anything to make the trouble +worse! + +MISS BEECH. [Nodding.] There's suffering enough, without adding to +it with our trumpery judgments! If only things would last between +them! + +COLONEL. [Fiercely.] Last! By George, they'd better---- + + [He stops, and looking up with a queer sorry look.] + +I say, Peachey Life's very funny! + +MISS BEECH. Men and women are! [Touching his forehead tenderly.] +There, there--take care of your poor, dear head! Tsst! The blessed +innocents! + + [She pulls the COLONEL'S sleeve. They slip away towards the + house, as JOY and DICK come back. They are still linked + together, and stop by the hollow tree.] + +JOY. [In a whisper.] Dick, is love always like this? + +DICK. [Putting his arms around her, with conviction.] It's never +been like this before. It's you and me! + + [He kisses her on the lips.] + + + + The curtain falls. + + + + + + +STRIFE + +A DRAMA IN THREE ACTS + + + + +PERSONS OF THE PLAY + +JOHN ANTHONY, Chairman of the Trenartha Tin Plate Works +EDGAR ANTHONY, his Son + +FREDERIC H. WILDER, | +WILLIAM SCANTLEBURY,| Directors Of the same +OLIVER WANKLIN, | + +HENRY TENCH, Secretary of the same +FRANCIS UNDERWOOD, C.E., Manager of the same +SIMON HARNESS, a Trades Union official + +DAVID ROBERTS, | +JAMES GREEN, | +JOHN BULGIN, | the workmen's committee +HENRY THOMAS, | +GEORGE ROUS, | + +HENRY ROUS, | +LEWIS, | +JAGO, | +EVANS, | workman at the Trenartha Tin Plate Works +A BLACKSMITH, | +DAVIES, | +A RED-HAIRED YOUTH. | +BROWN | + +FROST, valet to John Anthony +ENID UNDERWOOD, Wife of Francis Underwood, daughter of John Anthony +ANNIE ROBERTS, wife of David Roberts +MADGE THOMAS, daughter of Henry Thomas +MRS. ROUS, mother of George and Henry Rous +MRS. BULGIN, wife of John Bulgin +MRS. YEO, wife of a workman +A PARLOURMAID to the Underwoods +JAN, Madge's brother, a boy of ten +A CROWD OF MEN ON STRIKE + + + + + +ACT I. The dining-room of the Manager's house. + +ACT II, + SCENE I. The kitchen of the Roberts's cottage near the works. + SCENE II. A space outside the works. + +ACT III. The drawing-room of the Manager's house. + + + +The action takes place on February 7th between the hours of noon and +six in the afternoon, close to the Trenartha Tin Plate Works, on the +borders of England and Wales, where a strike has been in progress +throughout the winter. + + + + + +ACT I + + + It is noon. In the Underwoods' dining-room a bright fire is + burning. On one side of the fireplace are double-doors leading + to the drawing-room, on the other side a door leading to the + hall. In the centre of the room a long dining-table without a + cloth is set out as a Board table. At the head of it, in the + Chairman's seat, sits JOHN ANTHONY, an old man, big, + clean-shaven, and high-coloured, with thick white hair, and thick + dark eyebrows. His movements are rather slow and feeble, but his + eyes are very much alive. There is a glass of water by his side. + On his right sits his son EDGAR, an earnest-looking man of thirty, + reading a newspaper. Next him WANKLIN, a man with jutting + eyebrows, and silver-streaked light hair, is bending over transfer + papers. TENCH, the Secretary, a short and rather humble, nervous + man, with side whiskers, stands helping him. On WANKLIN'S right + sits UNDERWOOD, the Manager, a quiet man, with along, stiff jaw, + and steady eyes. Back to the fire is SCANTLEBURY, a very large, + pale, sleepy man, with grey hair, rather bald. Between him and + the Chairman are two empty chairs. + +WILDER. [Who is lean, cadaverous, and complaining, with drooping +grey moustaches, stands before the fire.] I say, this fire's the +devil! Can I have a screen, Tench? + +SCANTLEBURY. A screen, ah! + +TENCH. Certainly, Mr. Wilder. [He looks at UNDERWOOD.] That is-- +perhaps the Manager--perhaps Mr. Underwood---- + +SCANTLEBURY. These fireplaces of yours, Underwood---- + +UNDERWOOD. [Roused from studying some papers.] A screen? Rather! +I'm sorry. [He goes to the door with a little smile.] We're not +accustomed to complaints of too much fire down here just now. + + [He speaks as though he holds a pipe between his teeth, slowly, + ironically.] + +WILDER. [In an injured voice.] You mean the men. H'm! + + [UNDERWOOD goes out.] + +SCANTLEBURY. Poor devils! + +WILDER. It's their own fault, Scantlebury. + +EDGAR. [Holding out his paper.] There's great distress among them, +according to the Trenartha News. + +WILDER. Oh, that rag! Give it to Wanklin. Suit his Radical views. +They call us monsters, I suppose. The editor of that rubbish ought +to be shot. + +EDGAR. [Reading.] "If the Board of worthy gentlemen who control the +Trenartha Tin Plate Works from their arm-chairs in London would +condescend to come and see for themselves the conditions prevailing +amongst their work-people during this strike----" + +WILDER. Well, we have come. + +EDGAR. [Continuing.] "We cannot believe that even their leg-of-mutton +hearts would remain untouched." + + [WANKLIN takes the paper from him.] + +WILDER. Ruffian! I remember that fellow when he had n't a penny to +his name; little snivel of a chap that's made his way by black-guarding +everybody who takes a different view to himself. + + [ANTHONY says something that is not heard.] + +WILDER. What does your father say? + +EDGAR. He says "The kettle and the pot." + +WILDER. H'm! + + [He sits down next to SCANTLEBURY.] + +SCANTLEBURY. [Blowing out his cheeks.] I shall boil if I don't get +that screen. + + [UNDERWOOD and ENID enter with a screen, which they place before + the fire. ENID is tall; she has a small, decided face, and is + twenty-eight years old.] + +ENID. Put it closer, Frank. Will that do, Mr. Wilder? It's the +highest we've got. + +WILDER. Thanks, capitally. + +SCANTLEBURY. [Turning, with a sigh of pleasure.] Ah! Merci, +Madame! + +ENID. Is there anything else you want, Father? [ANTHONY shakes his +head.] Edgar--anything? + +EDGAR. You might give me a "J" nib, old girl. + +ENID. There are some down there by Mr. Scantlebury. + +SCANTLEBURY. [Handing a little box of nibs.] Ah! your brother uses +"J's." What does the manager use? [With expansive politeness.] +What does your husband use, Mrs. Underwood? + +UNDERWOOD. A quill! + +SCANTLEBURY. The homely product of the goose. [He holds out +quills.] + +UNDERWOOD. [Drily.] Thanks, if you can spare me one. [He takes a +quill.] What about lunch, Enid? + +ENID. [Stopping at the double-doors and looking back.] We're going +to have lunch here, in the drawing-room, so you need n't hurry with +your meeting. + + [WANKLIN and WILDER bow, and she goes out.] + +SCANTLEBURY. [Rousing himself, suddenly.] Ah! Lunch! That hotel-- +Dreadful! Did you try the whitebait last night? Fried fat! + +WILDER. Past twelve! Are n't you going to read the minutes, Tench? + +TENCH. [Looking for the CHAIRMAN'S assent, reads in a rapid and +monotonous voice.] "At a Board Meeting held the 31st of January at +the Company's Offices, 512, Cannon Street, E.C. Present--Mr. Anthony +in the chair, Messrs. F. H. Wilder, William Scantlebury, Oliver +Wanklin, and Edgar Anthony. Read letters from the Manager dated +January 20th, 23d, 25th, 28th, relative to the strike at the +Company's Works. Read letters to the Manager of January 21st, 24th, +26th, 29th. Read letter from Mr. Simon Harness, of the Central +Union, asking for an interview with the Board. Read letter from the +Men's Committee, signed David Roberts, James Green, John Bulgin, +Henry Thomas, George Rous, desiring conference with the Board; and it +was resolved that a special Board Meeting be called for February 7th +at the house of the Manager, for the purpose of discussing the +situation with Mr. Simon Harness and the Men's Committee on the spot. +Passed twelve transfers, signed and sealed nine certificates and one +balance certificate." + +[He pushes the book over to the CHAIRMAN.] + +ANTHONY. [With a heavy sigh.] If it's your pleasure, sign the same. + + [He signs, moving the pen with difficulty. ] + +WANKLIN. What's the Union's game, Tench? They have n't made up +their split with the men. What does Harness want this interview for? + +TENCH. Hoping we shall come to a compromise, I think, sir; he's +having a meeting with the men this afternoon. + +WILDER. Harness! Ah! He's one of those cold-blooded, cool-headed +chaps. I distrust them. I don't know that we didn't make a mistake +to come down. What time'll the men be here? + +UNDERWOOD. Any time now. + +WILDER. Well, if we're not ready, they'll have to wait--won't do +them any harm to cool their heels a bit. + +SCANTLEBURY. [Slowly.] Poor devils! It's snowing. What weather! + +UNDERWOOD. [With meaning slowness.] This house'll be the warmest +place they've been in this winter. + +WILDER. Well, I hope we're going to settle this business in time for +me to catch the 6.30. I've got to take my wife to Spain to-morrow. +[Chattily.] My old father had a strike at his works in '69; just +such a February as this. They wanted to shoot him. + +WANKLIN. What! In the close season? + +WILDER. By George, there was no close season for employers then! He +used to go down to his office with a pistol in his pocket. + +SCANTLEBURY. [Faintly alarmed.] Not seriously? + +WILDER. [With finality.] Ended in his shootin' one of 'em in the +legs. + +SCANTLEBURY. [Unavoidably feeling his thigh.] No? Which? + +ANTHONY. [Lifting the agenda paper.] To consider the policy of the +Board in relation to the strike. [There is a silence.] + +WILDER. It's this infernal three-cornered duel--the Union, the men, +and ourselves. + +WANKLIN. We need n't consider the Union. + +WILDER. It's my experience that you've always got to, consider the +Union, confound them! If the Union were going to withdraw their +support from the men, as they've done, why did they ever allow them +to strike at all? + +EDGAR. We've had that over a dozen times. + +WILDER. Well, I've never understood it! It's beyond me. They talk +of the engineers' and furnace-men's demands being excessive--so they +are--but that's not enough to make the Union withdraw their support. +What's behind it? + +UNDERWOOD. Fear of strikes at Harper's and Tinewell's. + +WILDER. [With triumph.] Afraid of other strikes--now, that's a +reason! Why could n't we have been told that before? + +UNDERWOOD. You were. + +TENCH. You were absent from the Board that day, sir. + +SCANTLEBURY. The men must have seen they had no chance when the +Union gave them up. It's madness. + +UNDERWOOD. It's Roberts! + +WILDER. Just our luck, the men finding a fanatical firebrand like +Roberts for leader. [A pause.] + +WANKLIN. [Looking at ANTHONY.] Well? + +WILDER. [Breaking in fussily.] It's a regular mess. I don't like +the position we're in; I don't like it; I've said so for a long time. +[Looking at WANKLIN.] When Wanklin and I came down here before +Christmas it looked as if the men must collapse. You thought so too, +Underwood. + +UNDERWOOD. Yes. + +WILDER. Well, they haven't! Here we are, going from bad to worse +losing our customers--shares going down! + +SCANTLEBURY. [Shaking his head.] M'm! M'm! + +WANKLIN. What loss have we made by this strike, Tench? + +TENCH. Over fifty thousand, sir! + +SCANTLEBURY, [Pained.] You don't say! + +WILDER. We shall never got it back. + +TENCH. No, sir. + +WILDER. Who'd have supposed the men were going to stick out like +this--nobody suggested that. [Looking angrily at TENCH.] + +SCANTLEBURY. [Shaking his head.] I've never liked a fight--never +shall. + +ANTHONY. No surrender! [All look at him.] + +WILDER. Who wants to surrender? [ANTHONY looks at him.] I--I want +to act reasonably. When the men sent Roberts up to the Board in +December--then was the time. We ought to have humoured him; instead +of that the Chairman--[Dropping his eyes before ANTHONY'S]--er--we +snapped his head off. We could have got them in then by a little +tact. + +ANTHONY. No compromise! + +WILDER. There we are! This strike's been going on now since +October, and as far as I can see it may last another six months. +Pretty mess we shall be in by then. The only comfort is, the men'll +be in a worse! + +EDGAR. [To UNDERWOOD.] What sort of state are they really in, +Frank? + +UNDERWOOD. [Without expression.] Damnable! + +WILDER. Well, who on earth would have thought they'd have held on +like this without support! + +UNDERWOOD. Those who know them. + +WILDER. I defy any one to know them! And what about tin? Price +going up daily. When we do get started we shall have to work off our +contracts at the top of the market. + +WANKLIN. What do you say to that, Chairman? + +ANTHONY. Can't be helped! + +WILDER. Shan't pay a dividend till goodness knows when! + +SCANTLEBURY. [With emphasis.] We ought to think of the +shareholders. [Turning heavily.] Chairman, I say we ought to think +of the shareholders. [ANTHONY mutters.] + +SCANTLEBURY. What's that? + +TENCH. The Chairman says he is thinking of you, sir. + +SCANTLEBURY. [Sinking back into torpor.] Cynic! + +WILDER. It's past a joke. I don't want to go without a dividend for +years if the Chairman does. We can't go on playing ducks and drakes +with the Company's prosperity. + +EDGAR. [Rather ashamedly.] I think we ought to consider the men. + + [All but ANTHONY fidget in their seats.] + +SCANTLEBURY. [With a sigh.] We must n't think of our private +feelings, young man. That'll never do. + +EDGAR. [Ironically.] I'm not thinking of our feelings. I'm +thinking of the men's. + +WILDER. As to that--we're men of business. + +WANKLIN. That is the little trouble. + +EDGAR. There's no necessity for pushing things so far in the face of +all this suffering--it's--it's cruel. + + [No one speaks, as though EDGAR had uncovered something whose + existence no man prizing his self-respect could afford to + recognise.] + +WANKLIN. [With an ironical smile.] I'm afraid we must n't base our +policy on luxuries like sentiment. + +EDGAR. I detest this state of things. + +ANTHONY. We did n't seek the quarrel. + +EDGAR. I know that sir, but surely we've gone far enough. + +ANTHONY. No. [All look at one another.] + +WANKLIN. Luxuries apart, Chairman, we must look out what we're +doing. + +ANTHONY. Give way to the men once and there'll be no end to it. + +WANKLIN. I quite agree, but---- + + [ANTHONY Shakes his head] + +You make it a question of bedrock principle? + + [ANTHONY nods.] + +Luxuries again, Chairman! The shares are below par. + +WILDER. Yes, and they'll drop to a half when we pass the next +dividend. + +SCANTLEBURY. [With alarm.] Come, come! Not so bad as that. + +WILDER. [Grimly.] You'll see! [Craning forward to catch ANTHONY'S +speech.] I didn't catch---- + +TENCH. [Hesitating.] The Chairman says, sir, "Fais que--que--devra." + +EDGAR. [Sharply.] My father says: "Do what we ought--and let things +rip." + +WILDER. Tcha! + +SCANTLEBURY. [Throwing up his hands.] The Chairman's a Stoic--I +always said the Chairman was a Stoic. + +WILDER. Much good that'll do us. + +WANKLIN. [Suavely.] Seriously, Chairman, are you going to let the +ship sink under you, for the sake of--a principle? + +ANTHONY. She won't sink. + +SCANTLEBURY. [With alarm.] Not while I'm on the Board I hope. + +ANTHONY. [With a twinkle.] Better rat, Scantlebury. + +SCANTLEBURY. What a man! + +ANTHONY. I've always fought them; I've never been beaten yet. + +WANKLIN. We're with you in theory, Chairman. But we're not all made +of cast-iron. + +ANTHONY. We've only to hold on. + +WILDER. [Rising and going to the fire.] And go to the devil as fast +as we can! + +ANTHONY. Better go to the devil than give in! + +WILDER. [Fretfully.] That may suit you, sir, but it does n't suit +me, or any one else I should think. + + [ANTHONY looks him in the face-a silence.] + +EDGAR. I don't see how we can get over it that to go on like this +means starvation to the men's wives and families. + + [WILDER turns abruptly to the fire, and SCANTLEBURY puts out a + hand to push the idea away.] + +WANKLIN. I'm afraid again that sounds a little sentimental. + +EDGAR. Men of business are excused from decency, you think? + +WILDER. Nobody's more sorry for the men than I am, but if they +[lashing himself] choose to be such a pig-headed lot, it's nothing +to do with us; we've quite enough on our hands to think of ourselves +and the shareholders. + +EDGAR. [Irritably.] It won't kill the shareholders to miss a +dividend or two; I don't see that that's reason enough for knuckling +under. + +SCANTLEBURY. [With grave discomfort.] You talk very lightly of your +dividends, young man; I don't know where we are. + +WILDER. There's only one sound way of looking at it. We can't go on +ruining ourselves with this strike. + +ANTHONY. No caving in! + +SCANTLEBURY. [With a gesture of despair.] Look at him! + + [ANTHONY'S leaning back in his chair. They do look at him.] + +WILDER. [Returning to his seat.] Well, all I can say is, if that's +the Chairman's view, I don't know what we've come down here for. + +ANTHONY. To tell the men that we've got nothing for them---- +[Grimly.] They won't believe it till they hear it spoken in plain +English. + +WILDER. H'm! Shouldn't be a bit surprised if that brute Roberts had +n't got us down here with the very same idea. I hate a man with a +grievance. + +EDGAR. [Resentfully.] We didn't pay him enough for his discovery. +I always said that at the time. + +WILDER. We paid him five hundred and a bonus of two hundred three +years later. If that's not enough! What does he want, for goodness' +sake? + +TENCH. [Complainingly.] Company made a hundred thousand out of his +brains, and paid him seven hundred--that's the way he goes on, sir. + +WILDER. The man's a rank agitator! Look here, I hate the Unions. +But now we've got Harness here let's get him to settle the whole +thing. + +ANTHONY. No! [Again they look at him.] + +UNDERWOOD. Roberts won't let the men assent to that. + +SCANTLEBURY. Fanatic! Fanatic! + +WILDER. [Looking at ANTHONY.] And not the only one! [FROST enters +from the hall.] + +FROST. [To ANTHONY.] Mr. Harness from the Union, waiting, sir. The +men are here too, sir. + + [ANTHONY nods. UNDERWOOD goes to the door, returning with + HARNESS, a pale, clean-shaven man with hollow cheeks, quick + eyes, and lantern jaw--FROST has retired.] + +UNDERWOOD. [Pointing to TENCH'S chair.] Sit there next the +Chairman, Harness, won't you? + + [At HARNESS'S appearance, the Board have drawn together, as it + were, and turned a little to him, like cattle at a dog.] + +HARNESS. [With a sharp look round, and a bow.] Thanks! [He sits--- +his accent is slightly nasal.] Well, gentlemen, we're going to do +business at last, I hope. + +WILDER. Depends on what you call business, Harness. Why don't you +make the men come in? + +HARNESS. [Sardonically.] The men are far more in the right than you +are. The question with us is whether we shan't begin to support them +again. + + [He ignores them all, except ANTHONY, to whom he turns in + speaking.] + +ANTHONY. Support them if you like; we'll put in free labour and have +done with it. + +HARNESS. That won't do, Mr. Anthony. You can't get free labour, and +you know it. + +ANTHONY. We shall see that. + +HARNESS. I'm quite frank with you. We were forced to withhold our +support from your men because some of their demands are in excess of +current rates. I expect to make them withdraw those demands to-day: +if they do, take it straight from me, gentlemen, we shall back them +again at once. Now, I want to see something fixed upon before I go +back to-night. Can't we have done with this old-fashioned tug-of-war +business? What good's it doing you? Why don't you recognise once +for all that these people are men like yourselves, and want what's +good for them just as you want what's good for you [Bitterly.] Your +motor-cars, and champagne, and eight-course dinners. + +ANTHONY. If the men will come in, we'll do something for them. + +HARNESS. [Ironically.] Is that your opinion too, sir--and yours-- +and yours? [The Directors do not answer.] Well, all I can say is: +It's a kind of high and mighty aristocratic tone I thought we'd grown +out of--seems I was mistaken. + +ANTHONY. It's the tone the men use. Remains to be seen which can +hold out longest--they without us, or we without them. + +HARNESS. As business men, I wonder you're not ashamed of this waste +of force, gentlemen. You know what it'll all end in. + +ANTHONY. What? + +HARNESS. Compromise--it always does. + +SCANTLEBURY. Can't you persuade the men that their interests are the +same as ours? + +HARNESS. [Turning, ironically.] I could persuade them of that, sir, +if they were. + +WILDER. Come, Harness, you're a clever man, you don't believe all +the Socialistic claptrap that's talked nowadays. There 's no real +difference between their interests and ours. + +HARNESS. There's just one very simple question I'd like to put to +you. Will you pay your men one penny more than they force you to pay +them? + + [WILDER is silent.] + +WANKLIN. [Chiming in.] I humbly thought that not to pay more than +was necessary was the A B C of commerce. + +HARNESS. [With irony.] Yes, that seems to be the A B C of commerce, +sir; and the A B C of commerce is between your interests and the +men's. + +SCANTLEBURY. [Whispering.] We ought to arrange something. + +HARNESS. [Drily.] Am I to understand then, gentlemen, that your +Board is going to make no concessions? + + [WANKLIN and WILDER bend forward as if to speak, but stop.] + +ANTHONY. [Nodding.] None. + + [WANKLIN and WILDER again bend forward, and SCANTLEBURY gives an + unexpected grunt.] + +HARNESS. You were about to say something, I believe? + + [But SCANTLEBURY says nothing.] + +EDGAR. [Looking up suddenly.] We're sorry for the state of the men. + +HARNESS. [Icily.] The men have no use for your pity, sir. What +they want is justice. + +ANTHONY. Then let them be just. + +HARNESS. For that word "just" read "humble," Mr. Anthony. Why +should they be humble? Barring the accident of money, are n't they +as good men as you? + +ANTHONY. Cant! + +HARNESS. Well, I've been five years in America. It colours a man's +notions. + +SCANTLEBURY. [Suddenly, as though avenging his uncompleted grunt.] +Let's have the men in and hear what they've got to say! + + [ANTHONY nods, and UNDERWOOD goes out by the single door.] + +HARNESS. [Drily.] As I'm to have an interview with them this +afternoon, gentlemen, I 'll ask you to postpone your final decision +till that's over. + + [Again ANTHONY nods, and taking up his glass drinks.] + + [UNDERWOOD comes in again, followed by ROBERTS, GREEN, BULGIN, + THOMAS, ROUS. They file in, hat in hand, and stand silent in a + row. ROBERTS is lean, of middle height, with a slight stoop. + He has a little rat-gnawn, brown-grey beard, moustaches, high + cheek-bones, hollow cheeks, small fiery eyes. He wears an old + and grease-stained blue serge suit, and carries an old bowler + hat. He stands nearest the Chairman. GREEN, next to him, has a + clean, worn face, with a small grey goatee beard and drooping + moustaches, iron spectacles, and mild, straightforward eyes. He + wears an overcoat, green with age, and a linen collar. Next to + him is BULGIN, a tall, strong man, with a dark moustache, and + fighting jaw, wearing a red muffler, who keeps changing his cap + from one hand to the other. Next to him is THOMAS, an old man + with a grey moustache, full beard, and weatherbeaten, bony face, + whose overcoat discloses a lean, plucked-looking neck. On his + right, ROUS, the youngest of the five, looks like a soldier; he + has a glitter in his eyes.] + +UNDERWOOD. [Pointing.] There are some chairs there against the +wall, Roberts; won't you draw them up and sit down? + +ROBERTS. Thank you, Mr. Underwood--we'll stand in the presence of +the Board. [He speaks in a biting and staccato voice, rolling his +r's, pronouncing his a's like an Italian a, and his consonants short +and crisp.] How are you, Mr. Harness? Did n't expect t' have the +pleasure of seeing you till this afternoon. + +HARNESS. [Steadily.] We shall meet again then, Roberts. + +ROBERTS. Glad to hear that; we shall have some news for you to take +to your people. + +ANTHONY. What do the men want? + +ROBERTS. [Acidly.] Beg pardon, I don't quite catch the Chairman's +remark. + +TENCH. [From behind the Chairman's chair.] The Chairman wishes to +know what the men have to say. + +ROBERTS. It's what the Board has to say we've come to hear. It's +for the Board to speak first. + +ANTHONY. The Board has nothing to say. + +ROBERTS. [Looking along the line of men.] In that case we're +wasting the Directors' time. We'll be taking our feet off this +pretty carpet. + + [He turns, the men move slowly, as though hypnotically + influenced.] + +WANKLIN: [Suavely.] Come, Roberts, you did n't give us this long +cold journey for the pleasure of saying that. + +THOMAS. [A pure Welshman.] No, sir, an' what I say iss---- + +ROBERTS.[Bitingly.] Go on, Henry Thomas, go on. You 're better able +to speak to the--Directors than me. [THOMAS is silent.] + +TENCH. The Chairman means, Roberts, that it was the men who asked +for the conference, the Board wish to hear what they have to say. + +ROBERTS. Gad! If I was to begin to tell ye all they have to say, I +wouldn't be finished to-day. And there'd be some that'd wish they'd +never left their London palaces. + +HARNESS. What's your proposition, man? Be reasonable. + +ROBERTS. You want reason Mr. Harness? Take a look round this +afternoon before the meeting. [He looks at the men; no sound escapes +them.] You'll see some very pretty scenery. + +HARNESS. All right my friend; you won't put me off. + +ROBERTS. [To the men.] We shan't put Mr. Harness off. Have some +champagne with your lunch, Mr. Harness; you'll want it, sir. + +HARNESS. Come, get to business, man! + +THOMAS. What we're asking, look you, is just simple justice. + +ROBERTS. [Venomously.] Justice from London? What are you talking +about, Henry Thomas? Have you gone silly? [THOMAS is silent.] We +know very well what we are--discontented dogs--never satisfied. What +did the Chairman tell me up in London? That I did n't know what I +was talking about. I was a foolish, uneducated man, that knew +nothing of the wants of the men I spoke for, + +EDGAR. Do please keep to the point. + +ANTHONY. [Holding up his hand.] There can only be one master, +Roberts. + +ROBERTS. Then, be Gad, it'll be us. + + [There is a silence; ANTHONY and ROBERTS stare at one another.] + +UNDERWOOD. If you've nothing to say to the Directors, Roberts, +perhaps you 'll let Green or Thomas speak for the men. + + [GREEN and THOMAS look anxiously at ROBERTS, at each other, and + the other men.] + +GREEN. [An Englishman.] If I'd been listened to, gentlemen---- + +THOMAS. What I'fe got to say iss what we'fe all got to say---- + +ROBERTS. Speak for yourself, Henry Thomas. + +SCANTLEBURY. [With a gesture of deep spiritual discomfort.] Let the +poor men call their souls their own! + +ROBERTS. Aye, they shall keep their souls, for it's not much body +that you've left them, Mr. [with biting emphasis, as though the word +were an offence] Scantlebury! [To the men.] Well, will you speak, +or shall I speak for you? + +ROUS. [Suddenly.] Speak out, Roberts, or leave it to others. + +ROBERTS. [Ironically.] Thank you, George Rous. [Addressing himself +to ANTHONY.] The Chairman and Board of Directors have honoured us by +leaving London and coming all this way to hear what we've got to say; +it would not be polite to keep them any longer waiting. + +WILDER. Well, thank God for that! + +ROBERTS. Ye will not dare to thank Him when I have done, Mr. Wilder, +for all your piety. May be your God up in London has no time to +listen to the working man. I'm told He is a wealthy God; but if he +listens to what I tell Him, He will know more than ever He learned in +Kensington. + +HARNESS. Come, Roberts, you have your own God. Respect the God of +other men. + +ROBERTS. That's right, sir. We have another God down here; I doubt +He is rather different to Mr. Wilder's. Ask Henry Thomas; he will +tell you whether his God and Mr. Wilder's are the same. + + [THOMAS lifts his hand, and cranes his head as though to + prophesy.] + +WANKLIN. For goodness' sake, let 's keep to the point, Roberts. + +ROBERTS. I rather think it is the point, Mr. Wanklin. If you can +get the God of Capital to walk through the streets of Labour, and pay +attention to what he sees, you're a brighter man than I take you for, +for all that you're a Radical. + +ANTHONY. Attend to me, Roberts! [Roberts is silent.] You are here +to speak for the men, as I am here to speak for the Board. + + [He looks slowly round.] + + [WILDER, WANKLIN, and SCANTLEBURY make movements of uneasiness, + and EDGAR gazes at the floor. A faint smile comes on HARNESS'S + face.] + +Now then, what is it? + +ROBERTS. Right, Sir! + + [Throughout all that follows, he and ANTHONY look fixedly upon + each other. Men and Directors show in their various ways + suppressed uneasiness, as though listening to words that they + themselves would not have spoken.] + +The men can't afford to travel up to London; and they don't trust you +to believe what they say in black and white. They know what the post +is [he darts a look at UNDERWOOD and TENCH], and what Directors' +meetings are: "Refer it to the manager--let the manager advise us on +the men's condition. Can we squeeze them a little more?" + +UNDERWOOD. [In a low voice.] Don't hit below the belt, Roberts! + +ROBERTS. Is it below the belt, Mr. Underwood? The men know. When I +came up to London, I told you the position straight. An' what came +of it? I was told I did n't know what I was talkin' about. I can't +afford to travel up to London to be told that again. + +ANTHONY. What have you to say for the men? + +ROBERTS. I have this to say--and first as to their condition. Ye +shall 'ave no need to go and ask your manager. Ye can't squeeze them +any more. Every man of us is well-nigh starving. [A surprised +murmur rises from the men. ROBERTS looks round.] Ye wonder why I +tell ye that? Every man of us is going short. We can't be no worse +off than we've been these weeks past. Ye need n't think that by +waiting yell drive us to come in. We'll die first, the whole lot of +us. The men have sent for ye to know, once and for all, whether ye +are going to grant them their demands. I see the sheet of paper in +the Secretary's hand. [TENCH moves nervously.] That's it, I think, +Mr. Tench. It's not very large. + +TENCH. [Nodding.] Yes. + +ROBERTS. There's not one sentence of writing on that paper that we +can do without. + + [A movement amongst the men. ROBERTS turns on them sharply.] + +Isn't that so? + + [The men assent reluctantly. ANTHONY takes from TENCH the paper + and peruses it.] + +Not one single sentence. All those demands are fair. We have not. +asked anything that we are not entitled to ask. What I said up in +London, I say again now: there is not anything on that piece of paper +that a just man should not ask, and a just man give. + + [A pause.] + +ANTHONY. There is not one single demand on this paper that we will +grant. + + [In the stir that follows on these words, ROBERTS watches the + Directors and ANTHONY the men. WILDER gets up abruptly and goes + over to the fire.] + +ROBERTS. D' ye mean that? + +ANTHONY. I do. + + [WILDER at the fire makes an emphatic movement of disgust.] + +ROBERTS. [Noting it, with dry intensity.] Ye best know whether the +condition of the Company is any better than the condition of the men. +[Scanning the Directors' faces.] Ye best know whether ye can afford +your tyranny--but this I tell ye: If ye think the men will give way +the least part of an inch, ye're making the worst mistake ye ever +made. [He fixes his eyes on SCANTLEBURY.] Ye think because the +Union is not supporting us--more shame to it!--that we'll be coming +on our knees to you one fine morning. Ye think because the men have +got their wives an' families to think of--that it's just a question +of a week or two---- + +ANTHONY. It would be better if you did not speculate so much on what +we think. + +ROBERTS. Aye! It's not much profit to us! I will say this for you, +Mr. Anthony--ye know your own mind! [Staying at ANTHONY.] I can +reckon on ye! + +ANTHONY. [Ironically.] I am obliged to you! + +ROBERTS. And I know mine. I tell ye this: The men will send their +wives and families where the country will have to keep them; an' they +will starve sooner than give way. I advise ye, Mr. Anthony, to +prepare yourself for the worst that can happen to your Company. We +are not so ignorant as you might suppose. We know the way the cat is +jumping. Your position is not all that it might be--not exactly! + +ANTHONY. Be good enough to allow us to judge of our position for +ourselves. Go back, and reconsider your own. + +ROBERTS. [Stepping forward.] Mr. Anthony, you are not a young man +now; from the time I remember anything ye have been an enemy to every +man that has come into your works. I don't say that ye're a mean +man, or a cruel man, but ye've grudged them the say of any word in +their own fate. Ye've fought them down four times. I've heard ye +say ye love a fight--mark my words--ye're fighting the last fight +ye'll ever fight! + + [TENCH touches ROBERTS'S sleeve.] + +UNDERWOOD. Roberts! Roberts! + +ROBERTS. Roberts! Roberts! I must n't speak my mind to the +Chairman, but the Chairman may speak his mind to me! + +WILDER. What are things coming to? + +ANTHONY, [With a grim smile at WILDER.] Go on, Roberts; say what you +like! + +ROBERTS. [After a pause.] I have no more to say. + +ANTHONY. The meeting stands adjourned to five o'clock. + +WANKLIN. [In a low voice to UNDERWOOD.] We shall never settle +anything like this. + +ROBERTS. [Bitingly.] We thank the Chairman and Board of Directors +for their gracious hearing. + + [He moves towards the door; the men cluster together stupefied; + then ROUS, throwing up his head, passes ROBERTS and goes out. + The others follow.] + +ROBERTS. [With his hand on the door--maliciously.] Good day, +gentlemen! [He goes out.] + +HARNESS. [Ironically.] I congratulate you on the conciliatory +spirit that's been displayed. With your permission, gentlemen, I'll +be with you again at half-past five. Good morning! + + [He bows slightly, rests his eyes on ANTHONY, who returns his + stare unmoved, and, followed by UNDERWOOD, goes out. There is a + moment of uneasy silence. UNDERWOOD reappears in the doorway.] + +WILDER. [With emphatic disgust.] Well! + + [The double-doors are opened.] + +ENID. [Standing in the doorway.] Lunch is ready. + + [EDGAR, getting up abruptly, walks out past his sister.] + +WILDER. Coming to lunch, Scantlebury? + +SCANTLEBURY. [Rising heavily.] I suppose so, I suppose so. It's +the only thing we can do. + + [They go out through the double-doors.] + +WANKLIN. [In a low voice.] Do you really mean +to fight to a finish, Chairman? + + [ANTHONY nods.] + +WANKLIN. Take care! The essence of things is to know when to stop. + + [ANTHONY does not answer.] + +WANKLIN. [Very gravely.] This way disaster lies. The ancient +Trojans were fools to your father, Mrs. Underwood. [He goes out +through the double-doors.] + +ENID. I want to speak to father, Frank. + + [UNDERWOOD follows WANKLIN Out. TENCH, passing round the table, + is restoring order to the scattered pens and papers.] + +ENID. Are n't you coming, Dad? + + [ANTHONY Shakes his head. ENID looks meaningly at TENCH.] + +ENID. Won't you go and have some lunch, Mr. Tench? + +TENCH. [With papers in his hand.] Thank you, ma'am, thank you! [He +goes slowly, looking back.] + +ENID. [Shutting the doors.] I do hope it's settled, Father! + +ANTHONY. No! + +ENID. [Very disappointed.] Oh! Have n't you done anything! + + [ANTHONY shakes his head.] + +ENID. Frank says they all want to come to a compromise, really, +except that man Roberts. + +ANTHONY. I don't. + +ENID. It's such a horrid position for us. If you were the wife of +the manager, and lived down here, and saw it all. You can't realise, +Dad! + +ANTHONY. Indeed? + +ENID. We see all the distress. You remember my maid Annie, who +married Roberts? [ANTHONY nods.] It's so wretched, her heart's +weak; since the strike began, she has n't even been getting proper +food. I know it for a fact, Father. + +ANTHONY. Give her what she wants, poor woman! + +ENID. Roberts won't let her take anything from us. + +ANTHONY. [Staring before him.] I can't be answerable for the men's +obstinacy. + +ENID. They're all suffering. Father! Do stop it, for my sake! + +ANTHONY. [With a keen look at her.] You don't understand, my dear. + +ENID. If I were on the Board, I'd do something. + +ANTHONY. What would you do? + +ENID. It's because you can't bear to give way. It's so---- + +ANTHONY. Well? + +ENID. So unnecessary. + +ANTHONY. What do you know about necessity? Read your novels, play +your music, talk your talk, but don't try and tell me what's at the +bottom of a struggle like this. + +ENID. I live down here, and see it. + +ANTHONY. What d' you imagine stands between you and your class and +these men that you're so sorry for? + +ENID. [Coldly.] I don't know what you mean, Father. + +ANTHONY. In a few years you and your children would be down in the +condition they're in, but for those who have the eyes to see things +as they are and the backbone to stand up for themselves. + +ENID. You don't know the state the men are in. + +ANTHONY. I know it well enough. + +ENID. You don't, Father; if you did, you would n't + +ANTHONY. It's you who don't know the simple facts of the position. +What sort of mercy do you suppose you'd get if no one stood between +you and the continual demands of labour? This sort of mercy-- +[He puts his hand up to his throat and squeezes it.] First would go +your sentiments, my dear; then your culture, and your comforts would +be going all the time! + +ENID. I don't believe in barriers between classes. + +ANTHONY. You--don't--believe--in--barriers--between the classes? + +ENID. [Coldly.] And I don't know what that has to do with this +question. + +ANTHONY. It will take a generation or two for you to understand. + +ENID. It's only you and Roberts, Father, and you know it! + + [ANTHONY thrusts out his lower lip.] + +It'll ruin the Company. + +ANTHONY. Allow me to judge of that. + +ENID. [Resentfully.] I won't stand by and let poor Annie Roberts +suffer like this! And think of the children, Father! I warn you. + +ANTHONY. [With a grim smile.] What do you propose to do? + +ENID. That's my affair. + + [ANTHONY only looks at her.] + +ENID. [In a changed voice, stroking his sleeve.] Father, you know +you oughtn't to have this strain on you--you know what Dr. Fisher +said! + +ANTHONY. No old man can afford to listen to old women. + +ENID. But you have done enough, even if it really is such a matter +of principle with you. + +ANTHONY. You think so? + +ENID. Don't Dad! [Her face works.] You--you might think of us! + +ANTHONY. I am. + +ENID. It'll break you down. + +ANTHONY. [Slowly.] My dear, I am not going to funk; on that you may +rely. + + [Re-enter TENCH with papers; he glances at them, then plucking + up courage.] + +TENCH. Beg pardon, Madam, I think I'd rather see these papers were +disposed of before I get my lunch. + + [ENID, after an impatient glance at him, looks at her father, + turns suddenly, and goes into the drawing-room.] + +TENCH. [Holding the papers and a pen to ANTHONY, very nervously.] +Would you sign these for me, please sir? + + [ANTHONY takes the pen and signs.] + +TENCH. [Standing with a sheet of blotting-paper behind EDGAR'S +chair, begins speaking nervously.] I owe my position to you, sir. + +ANTHONY. Well? + +TENCH. I'm obliged to see everything that's going on, sir; I--I +depend upon the Company entirely. If anything were to happen to it, +it'd be disastrous for me. [ANTHONY nods.] And, of course, my +wife's just had another; and so it makes me doubly anxious just now. +And the rates are really terrible down our way. + +ANTHONY. [With grim amusement.] Not more terrible than they are up +mine. + +TENCH. No, Sir? [Very nervously.] I know the Company means a great +deal to you, sir. + +ANTHONY. It does; I founded it. + +TENCH. Yes, Sir. If the strike goes on it'll be very serious. I +think the Directors are beginning to realise that, sir. + +ANTHONY. [Ironically.] Indeed? + +TENCH. I know you hold very strong views, sir, and it's always your +habit to look things in the face; but I don't think the Directors-- +like it, sir, now they--they see it. + +ANTHONY. [Grimly.] Nor you, it seems. + +TENCH. [With the ghost of a smile.] No, sir; of course I've got my +children, and my wife's delicate; in my position I have to think of +these things. + + [ANTHONY nods.] + +It was n't that I was going to say, sir, if you'll excuse me---- +[hesitates] + +ANTHONY. Out with it, then! + +TENCH. I know--from my own father, sir, that when you get on in life +you do feel things dreadfully---- + +ANTHONY. [Almost paternally.] Come, out with it, Trench! + +TENCH. I don't like to say it, sir. + +ANTHONY. [Stonily.] You Must. + +TENCH. [After a pause, desperately bolting it out.] I think the +Directors are going to throw you over, sir. + +ANTHONY. [Sits in silence.] Ring the bell! + + [TENCH nervously rings the bell and stands by the fire.] + +TENCH. Excuse me for saying such a thing. I was only thinking of +you, sir. + + [FROST enters from the hall, he comes to the foot of the table, + and looks at ANTHONY; TENCH coveys his nervousness by arranging + papers.] + +ANTHONY. Bring me a whiskey and soda. + +FROST. Anything to eat, sir? + + [ANTHONY shakes his head. FROST goes to the sideboard, and + prepares the drink.] + +TENCH. [In a low voice, almost supplicating.] If you could see your +way, sir, it would be a great relief to my mind, it would indeed. +[He looks up at ANTHONY, who has not moved.] It does make me so very +anxious. I haven't slept properly for weeks, sir, and that's a fact. + + [ANTHONY looks in his face, then slowly shakes his head.] + +[Disheartened.] No, Sir? [He goes on arranging papers.] + + [FROST places the whiskey and salver and puts it down by + ANTHONY'S right hand. He stands away, looking gravely at + ANTHONY.] + +FROST. Nothing I can get you, sir? + + [ANTHONY shakes his head.] + +You're aware, sir, of what the doctor said, sir? + +ANTHONY. I am. + + [A pause. FROST suddenly moves closer to him, and speaks in a + low voice.] + +FROST. This strike, sir; puttin' all this strain on you. Excuse me, +sir, is it--is it worth it, sir? + + [ANTHONY mutters some words that are inaudible.] + +Very good, sir! + + [He turns and goes out into the hall. TENCH makes two attempts + to speak; but meeting his Chairman's gaze he drops his eyes, + and, turning dismally, he too goes out. ANTHONY is left alone. + He grips the glass, tilts it, and drinks deeply; then sets it + down with a deep and rumbling sigh, and leans back in his + chair.] + + + The curtain falls. + + + + + +ACT II + +SCENE I + + It is half-past three. In the kitchen of Roberts's cottage a + meagre little fire is burning. The room is clean and tidy, very + barely furnished, with a brick floor and white-washed walls, + much stained with smoke. There is a kettle on the fire. A door + opposite the fireplace opens inward from a snowy street. On the + wooden table are a cup and saucer, a teapot, knife, and plate of + bread and cheese. Close to the fireplace in an old arm-chair, + wrapped in a rug, sits MRS. ROBERTS, a thin and dark-haired + woman about thirty-five, with patient eyes. Her hair is not + done up, but tied back with a piece of ribbon. By the fire, + too, is MRS. YEO; a red-haired, broad-faced person. Sitting + near the table is MRS. ROUS, an old lady, ashen-white, with + silver hair; by the door, standing, as if about to go, is MRS. + BULGIN, a little pale, pinched-up woman. In a chair, with her + elbows resting on the table, avid her face resting in her hands, + sits MADGE THOMAS, a good-looking girl, of twenty-two, with high + cheekbones, deep-set eyes, and dark untidy hair. She is + listening to the talk, but she neither speaks nor moves. + + +MRS. YEO. So he give me a sixpence, and that's the first bit o' +money I seen this week. There an't much 'eat to this fire. Come and +warm yerself Mrs. Rous, you're lookin' as white as the snow, you are. + +MRS. ROUS. [Shivering--placidly.] Ah! but the winter my old man +was took was the proper winter. Seventy-nine that was, when none of +you was hardly born--not Madge Thomas, nor Sue Bulgin. [Looking at +them in turn.] Annie Roberts, 'ow old were you, dear? + +MRS ROBERTS. Seven, Mrs. Rous. + +MRS. ROUS. Seven--well, there! A tiny little thing! + +MRS. YEO. [Aggressively.] Well, I was ten myself, I remembers it. + +MRS. Rous. [Placidly.] The Company hadn't been started three years. +Father was workin' on the acid, that's 'ow he got 'is pisoned-leg. +I kep' sayin' to 'im, "Father, you've got a pisoned leg." "Well," 'e +said, "Mother, pison or no pison, I can't afford to go a-layin' up." +An' two days after, he was on 'is back, and never got up again. It +was Providence! There was n't none o' these Compensation Acts then. + +MRS. YEO. Ye had n't no strike that winter! [With grim humour.] +This winter's 'ard enough for me. Mrs. Roberts, you don't want no +'arder winter, do you? Wouldn't seem natural to 'ave a dinner, would +it, Mrs. Bulgin? + +MRS. BULGIN. We've had bread and tea last four days. + +MRS. YEO. You got that Friday's laundry job? + +MRS. BULGIN. [Dispiritedly.] They said they'd give it me, but when +I went last Friday, they were full up. I got to go again next week. + +MRS. YEO. Ah! There's too many after that. I send Yeo out on the +ice to put on the gentry's skates an' pick up what 'e can. Stops 'im +from broodin' about the 'ouse. + +MRS. BULGIN. [In a desolate, matter-of-fact voice.] Leavin' out the +men--it's bad enough with the children. I keep 'em in bed, they +don't get so hungry when they're not running about; but they're that +restless in bed they worry your life out. + +MRS. YEO. You're lucky they're all so small. It 's the goin' to +school that makes 'em 'ungry. Don't Bulgin give you anythin'? + +MRS. BULGIN. [Shakes her head, then, as though by afterthought.] +Would if he could, I s'pose. + +MRS. YEO. [Sardonically.] What! 'Ave n't 'e got no shares in the +Company? + +MRS. ROUS. [Rising with tremulous cheerfulness.] Well, good-bye, +Annie Roberts, I'm going along home. + +MRS. ROBERTS. Stay an' have a cup of tea, Mrs. Rous? + +MRS. ROUS. [With the faintest smile.] Roberts 'll want 'is tea when +he comes in. I'll just go an' get to bed; it's warmer there than +anywhere. + + [She moves very shakily towards the door.] + +MRS. YEO. [Rising and giving her an arm.] Come on, Mother, take my +arm; we're all going' the same way. + +MRS. ROUS. [Taking the arm.]Thank you, my dearies! + + [THEY go out, followed by MRS. BULGIN.] + +MADGE. [Moving for the first time.] There, Annie, you see that! I +told George Rous, "Don't think to have my company till you've made an +end of all this trouble. You ought to be ashamed," I said, "with +your own mother looking like a ghost, and not a stick to put on the +fire. So long as you're able to fill your pipes, you'll let us +starve." "I 'll take my oath, Madge," he said, "I 've not had smoke +nor drink these three weeks!" "Well, then, why do you go on with +it?" "I can't go back on Roberts!" . . . That's it! Roberts, +always Roberts! They'd all drop it but for him. When he talks it's +the devil that comes into them. + + [A silence. MRS. ROBERTS makes a movement of pain.] + +Ah! You don't want him beaten! He's your man. With everybody like +their own shadows! [She makes a gesture towards MRS. ROBERTS.] If +ROUS wants me he must give up Roberts. If he gave him up--they all +would. They're only waiting for a lead. Father's against him-- +they're all against him in their hearts. + +MRS. ROBERTS. You won't beat Roberts! + + [They look silently at each other.] + +MADGE. Won't I? The cowards--when their own mothers and their own +children don't know where to turn. + +MRS. ROBERTS. Madge! + +MADGE. [Looking searchingly at MRS. ROBERTS.] I wonder he can look +you in the face. [She squats before the fire, with her hands out to +the flame.] Harness is here again. They'll have to make up their +minds to-day. + +MRS. ROBERTS. [In a soft, slow voice, with a slight West-country +burr.] Roberts will never give up the furnace-men and engineers. +'T wouldn't be right. + +MADGE. You can't deceive me. It's just his pride. + + [A tapping at the door is heard, the women turn as ENID enters. + She wears a round fur cap, and a jacket of squirrel's fur. She + closes the door behind her.] + +ENID. Can I come in, Annie? + +MRS. ROBERTS. [Flinching.] Miss Enid! Give Mrs. Underwood a chair, +Madge! + + [MADGE gives ENID the chair she has been sitting on.] + +ENID. Thank you! + +ENID. Are you any better? + +MRS. ROBERTS. Yes, M'm; thank you, M'm. + +ENID. [Looking at the sullen MADGE as though requesting her +departure.] Why did you send back the jelly? I call that really +wicked of you! + +MRS. ROBERTS. Thank you, M'm, I'd no need for it. + +ENID. Of course! It was Roberts's doing, wasn't it? How can he let +all this suffering go on amongst you? + +MADGE. [Suddenly.] What suffering? + +ENID. [Surprised.] I beg your pardon! + +MADGE. Who said there was suffering? + +MRS. ROBERTS. Madge! + +MADGE. [Throwing her shawl over her head.] Please to let us keep +ourselves to ourselves. We don't want you coming here and spying on +us. + +ENID. [Confronting her, but without rising.] I did n't speak to +you. + +MADGE. [In a low, fierce voice.] Keep your kind feelings to +yourself. You think you can come amongst us, but you're mistaken. +Go back and tell the Manager that. + +ENID. [Stonily.] This is not your house. + +MADGE. [Turning to the door.] No, it is not my house; keep clear of +my house, Mrs. Underwood. + + [She goes out. ENID taps her fingers on the table.] + +MRS. ROBERTS. Please to forgive Madge Thomas, M'm; she's a bit upset +to-day. + + [A pause.] + +ENID. [Looking at her.] Oh, I think they're so stupid, all of them. + +MRS. ROBERTS. [With a faint smile]. Yes, M'm. + +ENID. Is Roberts out? + +MRS. ROBERTS. Yes, M'm. + +ENID. It is his doing, that they don't come to an agreement. Now is +n't it, Annie? + +MRS. ROBERTS. [Softly, with her eyes on ENID, and moving the fingers +of one hand continually on her breast.] They do say that your +father, M'm---- + +ENID. My father's getting an old man, and you know what old men are. + +MRS. ROBERTS. I am sorry, M'm. + +ENID. [More softly.] I don't expect you to feel sorry, Annie. I +know it's his fault as well as Roberts's. + +MRS. ROBERTS. I'm sorry for any one that gets old, M'm; it 's +dreadful to get old, and Mr. Anthony was such a fine old man, I +always used to think. + +ENID. [Impulsively.] He always liked you, don't you remember? Look +here, Annie, what can I do? I do so want to know. You don't get +what you ought to have. [Going to the fire, she takes the kettle +off, and looks for coals.] And you're so naughty sending back the +soup and things. + +MRS. ROBERTS. [With a faint smile.] Yes, M'm? + +ENID. [Resentfully.] Why, you have n't even got coals? + +MRS. ROBERTS. If you please, M'm, to put the kettle on again; +Roberts won't have long for his tea when he comes in. He's got to +meet the men at four. + +ENID. [Putting the kettle on.] That means he'll lash them into a +fury again. Can't you stop his going, Annie? + + [MRS. ROBERTS smiles ironically.] + +Have you tried? + + [A silence.] + +Does he know how ill you are? + +MRS. ROBERTS. It's only my weak 'eard, M'm. + +ENID. You used to be so well when you were with us. + +MRS. ROBERTS. [Stiffening.] Roberts is always good to me. + +ENID. But you ought to have everything you want, and you have +nothing! + +MRS. ROBERTS. [Appealingly.] They tell me I don't look like a dyin' +woman? + +ENID. Of course you don't; if you could only have proper--- Will you +see my doctor if I send him to you? I'm sure he'd do you good. + +MRS. ROBERTS. [With faint questioning.] Yes, M'm. + +ENID. Madge Thomas ought n't to come here; she only excites you. As +if I did n't know what suffering there is amongst the men! I do feel +for them dreadfully, but you know they have gone too far. + +MRS. ROBERTS. [Continually moving her fingers.] They say there's no +other way to get better wages, M'm. + +ENID. [Earnestly.] But, Annie, that's why the Union won't help +them. My husband's very sympathetic with the men, but he says they +are not underpaid. + +MRS. ROBERTS. No, M'm? + +ENID. They never think how the Company could go on if we paid the +wages they want. + +MRS. ROBERTS. [With an effort.] But the dividends having been so +big, M'm. + +ENID. [Takes aback.] You all seem to think the shareholders are +rich men, but they're not--most of them are really no better off than +working men. + + [MRS. ROBERTS smiles.] + +They have to keep up appearances. + +MRS. ROBERTS. Yes, M'm? + +ENID. You don't have to pay rates and taxes, and a hundred other +things that they do. If the men did n't spend such a lot in drink +and betting they'd be quite well off! + +MRS. ROBERTS. They say, workin' so hard, they must have some +pleasure. + +ENID. But surely not low pleasure like that. + +MRS. ROBERTS. [A little resentfully.] Roberts never touches a drop; +and he's never had a bet in his life. + +ENID. Oh! but he's not a com----I mean he's an engineer---- +a superior man. + +MRS. ROBERTS. Yes, M'm. Roberts says they've no chance of other +pleasures. + +ENID. [Musing.] Of course, I know it's hard. + +MRS. ROBERTS. [With a spice of malice.] And they say gentlefolk's +just as bad. + +ENID. [With a smile.] I go as far as most people, Annie, but you +know, yourself, that's nonsense. + +MRS. ROBERTS. [With painful effort.] A lot 'o the men never go near +the Public; but even they don't save but very little, and that goes +if there's illness. + +ENID. But they've got their clubs, have n't they? + +MRS. ROBERTS. The clubs only give up to eighteen shillin's a week, +M'm, and it's not much amongst a family. Roberts says workin' folk +have always lived from hand to mouth. Sixpence to-day is worth more +than a shillin' to-morrow, that's what they say. + +ENID. But that's the spirit of gambling. + +MRS. ROBERTS. [With a sort of excitement.] Roberts says a working +man's life is all a gamble, from the time 'e 's born to the time 'e +dies. + + [ENID leans forward, interested. MRS. ROBERTS goes on with a + growing excitement that culminates in the personal feeling of + the last words.] + +He says, M'm, that when a working man's baby is born, it's a toss-up +from breath to breath whether it ever draws another, and so on all +'is life; an' when he comes to be old, it's the workhouse or the +grave. He says that without a man is very near, and pinches and +stints 'imself and 'is children to save, there can't be neither +surplus nor security. That's why he wouldn't have no children [she +sinks back], not though I wanted them. + +ENID. Yes, yes, I know! + +MRS. ROBERTS. No you don't, M'm. You've got your children, and +you'll never need to trouble for them. + +ENID. [Gently.] You oughtn't to be talking so much, Annie. [Then, +in spite of herself.] But Roberts was paid a lot of money, was n't +he, for discovering that process? + +MRS. ROBERTS. [On the defensive.] All Roberts's savin's have gone. +He 's always looked forward to this strike. He says he's no right to +a farthing when the others are suffering. 'T is n't so with all o' +them! Some don't seem to care no more than that--so long as they get +their own. + +ENID. I don't see how they can be expected to when they 're +suffering like this. [In a changed voice.] But Roberts ought to +think of you! It's all terrible----! The kettle's boiling. Shall I +make the tea? [She takes the teapot and, seeing tea there, pours +water into it.] Won't you have a cup? + +MRS. ROBERTS. No, thank you, M'm. [She is listening, as though for +footsteps.] I'd--sooner you did n't see Roberts, M'm, he gets so +wild. + +ENID. Oh! but I must, Annie; I'll be quite calm, I promise. + +MRS. ROBERTS. It's life an' death to him, M'm. + +ENID. [Very gently.] I'll get him to talk to me outside, we won't +excite you. + +MRS. ROBERTS. [Faintly.] No, M'm. + + [She gives a violent start. ROBERTS has come in, unseen.] + +ROBERTS. [Removing his hat--with subtle mockery.] Beg pardon for +coming in; you're engaged with a lady, I see. + +ENID. Can I speak to you, Mr. Roberts? + +ROBERTS. Whom have I the pleasure of addressing, Ma'am? + +ENID. But surely you know me! I 'm Mrs. Underwood. + +ROBERTS. [With a bow of malice.] The daughter of our Chairman. + +ENID. [Earnestly.] I've come on purpose to speak to you; will you +come outside a minute? + + [She looks at MRS. ROBERTS.] + +ROBERTS. [Hanging up his hat.] I have nothing to say, Ma'am. + +ENID. But I must speak to you, please. + + [She moves towards the door.] + +ROBERTS. [With sudden venom.] I have not the time to listen! + +MRS. ROBERTS. David! + +ENID. Mr. Roberts, please! + +ROBERTS. [Taking off his overcoat.] I am sorry to disoblige a lady +--Mr. Anthony's daughter. + +ENID. [Wavering, then with sudden decision.] Mr. Roberts, I know +you've another meeting of the men. + + [ROBERTS bows.] + +I came to appeal to you. Please, please, try to come to some +compromise; give way a little, if it's only for your own sakes! + +ROBERTS. [Speaking to himself.] The daughter of Mr. Anthony begs me +to give way a little, if it's only for our own sakes! + +ENID. For everybody's sake; for your wife's sake. + +ROBERTS. For my wife's sake, for everybody's sake--for the sake of +Mr. Anthony. + +ENID. Why are you so bitter against my father? He has never done +anything to you. + +ROBERTS. Has he not? + +ENID. He can't help his views, any more than you can help yours. + +ROBERTS. I really did n't know that I had a right to views! + +ENID. He's an old man, and you---- + + [Seeing his eyes fixed on her, she stops.] + +ROBERTS. [Without raising his voice.] If I saw Mr. Anthony going to +die, and I could save him by lifting my hand, I would not lift the +little finger of it. + +ENID. You--you----[She stops again, biting her lips.] + +ROBERTS. I would not, and that's flat! + +ENID. [Coldly.] You don't mean what you say, and you know it! + +ROBERTS. I mean every word of it. + +ENID. But why? + +ROBERTS. [With a flash.] Mr. Anthony stands for tyranny! That's +why! + +ENID. Nonsense! + + [MRS. ROBERTS makes a movement as if to rise, but sinks back in + her chair.] + +ENID. [With an impetuous movement.] Annie! + +ROBERTS. Please not to touch my wife! + +ENID. [Recoiling with a sort of horror.] I believe--you are mad. + +ROBERTS. The house of a madman then is not the fit place for a lady. + +ENID. I 'm not afraid of you. + +ROBERTS. [Bowing.] I would not expect the daughter of Mr. Anthony +to be afraid. Mr. Anthony is not a coward like the rest of them. + +ENID. [Suddenly.] I suppose you think it brave, then, to go on with +the struggle. + +ROBERTS. Does Mr. Anthony think it brave to fight against women and +children? Mr. Anthony is a rich man, I believe; does he think it +brave to fight against those who have n't a penny? Does he think it +brave to set children crying with hunger, an' women shivering with +cold? + +ENID. [Putting up her hand, as though warding off a blow.] My +father is acting on his principles, and you know it! + +ROBERTS. And so am I! + +ENID. You hate us; and you can't bear to be beaten! + +ROBERTS. Neither can Mr. Anthony, for all that he may say. + +ENID. At any rate you might have pity on your wife. + + [MRS. ROBERTS who has her hand pressed to her heart, takes it + away, and tries to calm her breathing.] + +ROBERTS. Madam, I have no more to say. + + [He takes up the loaf. There is a knock at the door, and + UNDERWOOD comes in. He stands looking at them, ENID turns to + him, then seems undecided.] + +UNDERWOOD. Enid! + +ROBERTS. [Ironically.] Ye were not needing to come for your wife, +Mr. Underwood. We are not rowdies. + +UNDERWOOD. I know that, Roberts. I hope Mrs. Roberts is better. + + [ROBERTS turns away without answering. Come, Enid!] + +ENID. I make one more appeal to you, Mr. Roberts, for the sake of +your wife. + +ROBERTS. [With polite malice.] If I might advise ye, Ma'am--make it +for the sake of your husband and your father. + + [ENID, suppressing a retort, goes out. UNDERWOOD opens the door + for her and follows. ROBERTS, going to the fire, holds out his + hands to the dying glow.] + +ROBERTS. How goes it, my girl? Feeling better, are you? + + [MRS. ROBERTS smiles faintly. He brings his overcoat and wraps + it round her.] + +[Looking at his watch.] Ten minutes to four! [As though inspired.] +I've seen their faces, there's no fight in them, except for that one +old robber. + +MRS. ROBERTS. Won't you stop and eat, David? You've 'ad nothing all +day! + +ROBERTS. [Putting his hand to his throat.] Can't swallow till those +old sharks are out o' the town: [He walks up and down.] I shall have +a bother with the men--there's no heart in them, the cowards. Blind +as bats, they are--can't see a day before their noses. + +MRS. ROBERTS. It's the women, David. + +ROBERTS. Ah! So they say! They can remember the women when their +own bellies speak! The women never stop them from the drink; but +from a little suffering to themselves in a sacred cause, the women +stop them fast enough. + +MRS. ROBERTS. But think o' the children, David. + +ROBERTS. Ah! If they will go breeding themselves for slaves, +without a thought o' the future o' them they breed---- + +MRS. ROBERTS. [Gasping.] That's enough, David; don't begin to talk +of that--I won't--I can't---- + +ROBERTS. [Staring at her.] Now, now, my girl! + +MRS. ROBERTS. [Breathlessly.] No, no, David--I won't! + +ROBERTS. There, there! Come, come! That's right! [Bitterly.] Not +one penny will they put by for a day like this. Not they! Hand to +mouth--Gad!--I know them! They've broke my heart. There was no +holdin' them at the start, but now the pinch 'as come. + +MRS. ROBERTS. How can you expect it, David? They're not made of +iron. + +ROBERTS. Expect it? Wouldn't I expect what I would do meself? +Wouldn't I starve an' rot rather than give in? What one man can do, +another can. + +MRS. ROBERTS. And the women? + +ROBERTS. This is not women's work. + +MRS. ROBERTS. [With a flash of malice.] No, the women may die for +all you care. That's their work. + +ROBERTS. [Averting his eyes.] Who talks of dying? No one will die +till we have beaten these---- + + [He meets her eyes again, and again turns his away. Excitedly.] + +This is what I've been waiting for all these months. To get the old +robbers down, and send them home again without a farthin's worth o' +change. I 've seen their faces, I tell you, in the valley of the +shadow of defeat. + + [He goes to the peg and takes down his hat.] + +MRS. ROBERTS. [Following with her eyes-softly.] Take your overcoat, +David; it must be bitter cold. + +ROBERTS. [Coming up to her-his eyes are furtive.] No, no! There, +there, stay quiet and warm. I won't be long, my girl. + +MRS. ROBERTS. [With soft bitterness.] You'd better take it. + + [She lifts the coat. But ROBERTS puts it back, and wraps it + round her. He tries to meet her eyes, but cannot. MRS. + ROBERTS stays huddled in the coat, her eyes, that follow him + about, are half malicious, half yearning. He looks at his watch + again, and turns to go. In the doorway he meets JAN THOMAS, a + boy of ten in clothes too big for him, carrying a penny + whistle.] + +ROBERTS. Hallo, boy! + + [He goes. JAN stops within a yard of MRS. ROBERTS, and stares + at her without a word.] + +MRS. ROBERTS. Well, Jan! + +JAN. Father 's coming; sister Madge is coming. + + [He sits at the table, and fidgets with his whistle; he blows + three vague notes; then imitates a cuckoo.] + + [There is a tap on the door. Old THOMAS comes in.] + +THOMAS. A very coot tay to you, Ma'am. It is petter that you are. + +MRS. ROBERTS. Thank you, Mr. Thomas. + +THOMAS. [Nervously.] Roberts in? + +MRS. ROBERTS. Just gone on to the meeting, Mr. Thomas. + +THOMAS. [With relief, becoming talkative.] This is fery +unfortunate, look you! I came to tell him that we must make terms +with London. It is a fery great pity he is gone to the meeting. He +will be kicking against the pricks, I am thinking. + +MRS. ROBERTS. [Half rising.] He'll never give in, Mr. Thomas. + +THOMAS. You must not be fretting, that is very pat for you. Look +you, there iss hartly any mans for supporting him now, but the +engineers and George Rous. [Solemnly.] This strike is no longer +Going with Chapel, look you! I have listened carefully, an' I have +talked with her. + + [JAN blows.] + +Sst! I don't care what th' others say, I say that Chapel means us to +be stopping the trouple, that is what I make of her; and it is my +opinion that this is the fery best thing for all of us. If it was +n't my opinion, I ton't say but it is my opinion, look you. + +MRS. ROBERTS. [Trying to suppress her excitement.] I don't know +what'll come to Roberts, if you give in. + +THOMAS. It iss no disgrace whateffer! All that a mortal man coult +do he hass tone. It iss against Human Nature he hass gone; fery +natural any man may do that; but Chapel has spoken and he must not go +against her. + + [JAN imitates the cuckoo.] + +Ton't make that squeaking! [Going to the door.] Here iss my +daughter come to sit with you. A fery goot day, Ma'am--no fretting +--rememper! + + [MADGE comes in and stands at the open door, watching the + street.] + +MADGE. You'll be late, Father; they're beginning. [She catches him +by the sleeve.] For the love of God, stand up to him, Father--this +time! + +THOMAS. [Detaching his sleeve with dignity.] Leave me to do what's +proper, girl! + + [He goes out. MADGE, in the centre of the open doorway, + slowly moves in, as though before the approach of some one.] + +ROUS. [Appearing in the doorway.] Madge! + + [MADGE stands with her back to MRS. ROBERTS, staring at him with + her head up and her hands behind her.] + +ROUS. [Who has a fierce distracted look.] Madge! I'm going to the +meeting. + + [MADGE, without moving, smiles contemptuously.] + +D' ye hear me? + + [They speak in quick low voices.] + +MADGE. I hear! Go, and kill your own mother, if you must. + +[ROUS seizes her by both her arms. She stands rigid, with her head +bent back. He releases her, and he too stands motionless.] + +ROUS. I swore to stand by Roberts. I swore that! Ye want me to go +back on what I've sworn. + +MADGE. [With slow soft mockery.] You are a pretty lover! + +ROUS. Madge! + +MADGE. [Smiling.] I've heard that lovers do what their girls ask +them-- + + [JAN sounds the cuckoo's notes] + +--but that's not true, it seems! + +ROUS. You'd make a blackleg of me! + +MADGE. [With her eyes half-closed.] Do it for me! + +ROUS. [Dashing his hand across his brow.] Damn! I can't! + +MADGE. [Swiftly.] Do it for me! + +ROUS. [Through his teeth.] Don't play the wanton with me! + +MADGE. [With a movement of her hand towards JAN--quick and low.] +I would be that for the children's sake! + +ROUS. [In a fierce whisper.] Madge! Oh, Madge! + +MADGE. [With soft mockery.] But you can't break your word for me! + +ROUS. [With a choke.] Then, Begod, I can! + + [He turns and rushes off.] + + [MADGE Stands, with a faint smile on her face, looking after + him. She turns to MRS. ROBERTS.] + +MADGE. I have done for Roberts! + +MRS. ROBERTS. [Scornfully.] Done for my man, with that----! +[She sinks back.] + +MADGE. [Running to her, and feeling her hands.] You're as cold as a +stone! You want a drop of brandy. Jan, run to the "Lion"; say, I +sent you for Mrs. Roberts. + +MRS. ROBERTS. [With a feeble movement.] I'll just sit quiet, Madge. +Give Jan--his--tea. + +MADGE. [Giving JAN a slice of bread.] There, ye little rascal. +Hold your piping. [Going to the fire, she kneels.] It's going out. + +MRS. ROBERTS. [With a faint smile.] 'T is all the same! + + [JAN begins to blow his whistle.] + +MADGE. Tsht! Tsht!--you + + [JAN Stops.] + +MRS. ROBERTS. [Smiling.] Let 'im play, Madge. + +MADGE. [On her knees at the fire, listening.] Waiting an' waiting. +I've no patience with it; waiting an' waiting--that's what a woman +has to do! Can you hear them at it--I can! + + [JAN begins again to play his whistle; MADGE gets up; half + tenderly she ruffles his hair; then, sitting, leans her elbows + on the table, and her chin on her hands. Behind her, on MRS. + ROBERTS'S face the smile has changed to horrified surprise. She + makes a sudden movement, sitting forward, pressing her hands + against her breast. Then slowly she sinks' back; slowly her + face loses the look of pain, the smile returns. She fixes her + eyes again on JAN, and moves her lips and finger to the tune.] + + + The curtain falls. + + + + +SCENE II + + It is past four. In a grey, failing light, an open muddy space + is crowded with workmen. Beyond, divided from it by a + barbed-wire fence, is the raised towing-path of a canal, on which + is moored a barge. In the distance are marshes and snow-covered + hills. The "Works" high wall runs from the canal across the open + space, and ivy the angle of this wall is a rude platform of + barrels and boards. On it, HARNESS is standing. ROBERTS, a + little apart from the crowd, leans his back against the wall. On + the raised towing-path two bargemen lounge and smoke + indifferently. + +HARNESS. [Holding out his hand.] Well, I've spoken to you straight. +If I speak till to-morrow I can't say more. + +JAGO. [A dark, sallow, Spanish-looking man with a short, thin +beard.] Mister, want to ask you! Can they get blacklegs? + +BULGIN. [Menacing.] Let 'em try. + + [There are savage murmurs from the crowd.] + +BROWN. [A round-faced man.] Where could they get 'em then? + +EVANS. [A small, restless, harassed man, with a fighting face.] +There's always blacklegs; it's the nature of 'em. There's always men +that'll save their own skins. + + [Another savage murmur. There is a movement, and old THOMAS, + joining the crowd, takes his stand in front.] + +HARNESS. [Holding up his hand.] They can't get them. But that +won't help you. Now men, be reasonable. Your demands would have +brought on us the burden of a dozen strikes at a time when we were +not prepared for them. The Unions live by justice, not to one, but +all. Any fair man will tell you--you were ill-advised! I don't say +you go too far for that which you're entitled to, but you're going +too far for the moment; you've dug a pit for yourselves. Are you to +stay there, or are you to climb out? Come! + +LEWIS. [A clean-cut Welshman with a dark moustache.] You've hit it, +Mister! Which is it to be? + + [Another movement in the crowd, and ROUS, coming quickly, takes + his stand next THOMAS.] + +HARNESS. Cut your demands to the right pattern, and we 'll see you +through; refuse, and don't expect me to waste my time coming down +here again. I 'm not the sort that speaks at random, as you ought to +know by this time. If you're the sound men I take you for--no matter +who advises you against it--[he fixes his eyes on ROBERTS] you 'll +make up your minds to come in, and trust to us to get your terms. +Which is it to be? Hands together, and victory--or--the starvation +you've got now? + + [A prolonged murmur from the crowd.] + +JAGO. [Sullenly.] Talk about what you know. + +HARNESS. [Lifting his voice above the murmur.] Know? [With cold +passion.] All that you've been through, my friend, I 've been +through--I was through it when I was no bigger than [pointing to a +youth] that shaver there; the Unions then were n't what they are +now. What's made them strong? It's hands together that 's made them +strong. I 've been through it all, I tell you, the brand's on my +soul yet. I know what you 've suffered--there's nothing you can tell +me that I don't know; but the whole is greater than the part, and you +are only the part. Stand by us, and we will stand by you. + + [Quartering them with his eyes, he waits. The murmuring swells; + the men form little groups. GREEN, BULGIN, and LEWIS talk + together.] + +LEWIS. Speaks very sensible, the Union chap. + +GREEN. [Quietly.] Ah! if I 'd a been listened to, you'd 'ave 'eard +sense these two months past. + + [The bargemen are seen laughing. ] + +LEWIS. [Pointing.] Look at those two blanks over the fence there! + +BULGIN. [With gloomy violence.] They'd best stop their cackle, or I +'ll break their jaws. + +JAGO. [Suddenly.] You say the furnace men's paid enough? + +HARNESS. I did not say they were paid enough; I said they were paid +as much as the furnace men in similar works elsewhere. + +EVANS. That's a lie! [Hubbub.] What about Harper's? + +HARNESS. [With cold irony.] You may look at home for lies, my man. +Harper's shifts are longer, the pay works out the same. + +HENRY ROUS. [A dark edition of his brother George.] Will ye support +us in double pay overtime Saturdays? + +HARNESS. Yes, we will. + +JAGO. What have ye done with our subscriptions? + +HARNESS. [Coldly.] I have told you what we will do with them. + +EVANS. Ah! will, it's always will! Ye'd have our mates desert us. +[Hubbub.] + +BULGIN. [Shouting.] Hold your row! + + [EVANS looks round angrily.] + +HARNESS. [Lifting his voice.] Those who know their right hands from +their lefts know that the Unions are neither thieves nor traitors. +I 've said my say. Figure it out, my lads; when you want me you know +where I shall be. + + [He jumps down, the crowd gives way, he passes through them, and + goes away. A BARGEMAN looks after him jerking his pipe with a + derisive gesture. The men close up in groups, and many looks + are cast at ROBERTS, who stands alone against the wall.] + +EVANS. He wants ye to turn blacklegs, that's what he wants. He +wants ye to go back on us. Sooner than turn blackleg--I 'd starve, I +would. + +BULGIN. Who's talkin' o' blacklegs--mind what you're saying, will +you? + +BLACKSMITH. [A youth with yellow hair and huge arms.] What about +the women? + +EVANS. They can stand what we can stand, I suppose, can't they? + +BLACKSMITH. Ye've no wife? + +EVANS. An' don't want one! + +THOMAS. [Raising his voice.] Aye! Give us the power to come to +terms with London, lads. + +DAVIES. [A dark, slow-fly, gloomy man.] Go up the platform, if you +got anything to say, go up an' say it. + + [There are cries of "Thomas!" He is pushed towards the + platform; he ascends it with difficulty, and bares his head, + waiting for silence. A hush.] + +RED-HAIRED YOUTH. [suddenly.] Coot old Thomas! + + [A hoarse laugh; the bargemen exchange remarks; a hush again, + and THOMAS begins speaking.] + +THOMAS. We are all in the tepth together, and it iss Nature that has +put us there. + +HENRY ROUS. It's London put us there! + +EVANS. It's the Union. + +THOMAS. It iss not Lonton; nor it iss not the Union--it iss Nature. +It iss no disgrace whateffer to a potty to give in to Nature. For +this Nature iss a fery pig thing; it is pigger than what a man is. +There iss more years to my hett than to the hett of any one here. +It is fery pat, look you, this Going against Nature. It is pat to +make other potties suffer, when there is nothing to pe cot py it. + + [A laugh. THOMAS angrily goes on.] + +What are ye laughing at? It is pat, I say! We are fighting for a +principle; there is no potty that shall say I am not a peliever in +principle. Putt when Nature says "No further," then it is no coot +snapping your fingers in her face. + + [A laugh from ROBERTS, and murmurs of approval.] + +This Nature must pe humort. It is a man's pisiness to pe pure, +honest, just, and merciful. That's what Chapel tells you. [To +ROBERTS, angrily.] And, look you, David Roberts, Chapel tells you ye +can do that without Going against Nature. + +JAGO. What about the Union? + +THOMAS. I ton't trust the Union; they haf treated us like tirt. +"Do what we tell you," said they. I haf peen captain of the +furnace-men twenty years, and I say to the Union--[excitedly]--"Can you +tell me then, as well as I can tell you, what iss the right wages for +the work that these men do?" For fife and twenty years I haf paid my +moneys to the Union and--[with great excitement]--for nothings! What +iss that but roguery, for all that this Mr. Harness says! + +EVANS. Hear, hear. + +HENRY ROUS. Get on with you! Cut on with it then! + +THOMAS. Look you, if a man toes not trust me, am I going to trust +him? + +JAGO. That's right. + +THOMAS. Let them alone for rogues, and act for ourselves. + + [Murmurs.] + +BLACKSMITH. That's what we been doin', haven't we? + +THOMAS. [With increased excitement.] I wass brought up to do for +meself. I wass brought up to go without a thing, if I hat not moneys +to puy it. There iss too much, look you, of doing things with other +people's moneys. We haf fought fair, and if we haf peen beaten, it +iss no fault of ours. Gif us the power to make terms with London for +ourself; if we ton't succeed, I say it iss petter to take our peating +like men, than to tie like togs, or hang on to others' coat-tails to +make them do our pisiness for us! + +EVANS. [Muttering.] Who wants to? + +THOMAS. [Craning.] What's that? If I stand up to a potty, and he +knocks me town, I am not to go hollering to other potties to help me; +I am to stand up again; and if he knocks me town properly, I am to +stay there, is n't that right? + + [Laughter.] + +JAGO. No Union! + +HENRY ROUS. Union! + + [Murmurs.] + + [Others take up the shout.] + +EVANS. Blacklegs! + + + [BULGIN and the BLACKSMITH shake their fists at EVANS.] + +THOMAS. [With a gesture.] I am an olt man, look you. + + [A sudden silence, then murmurs again.] + +LEWIS. Olt fool, with his "No Union!" + +BULGIN. Them furnace chaps! For twopence I 'd smash the faces o' +the lot of them. + +GREEN. If I'd a been listened to at the first! + +THOMAS. [Wiping his brow.] I'm comin' now to what I was going to +say---- + +DAVIES. [Muttering.] An' time too! + +THOMAS. [Solemnly.] Chapel says: Ton't carry on this strife! Put +an end to it! + +JAGO. That's a lie! Chapel says go on! + +THOMAS. [Scornfully.] Inteet! I haf ears to my head. + +RED-HAIRED YOUTH. Ah! long ones! + + [A laugh.] + +JAGO. Your ears have misbeled you then. + +THOMAS. [Excitedly.] Ye cannot be right if I am, ye cannot haf it +both ways. + +RED-HAIRED YOUTH. Chapel can though! + + ["The Shaver" laughs; there are murmurs from the crowd.] + +THOMAS. [Fixing his eyes on "The Shaver."] Ah! ye 're Going the +roat to tamnation. An' so I say to all of you. If ye co against +Chapel I will not pe with you, nor will any other Got-fearing man. + + [He steps down from the platform. JAGO makes his way towards + it. There are cries of "Don't let 'im go up!"] + +JAGO. Don't let him go up? That's free speech, that is. [He goes +up.] I ain't got much to say to you. Look at the matter plain; ye +'ve come the road this far, and now you want to chuck the journey. +We've all been in one boat; and now you want to pull in two. We +engineers have stood by you; ye 're ready now, are ye, to give us the +go-by? If we'd aknown that before, we'd not a-started out with you +so early one bright morning! That's all I 've got to say. Old man +Thomas a'n't got his Bible lesson right. If you give up to London, +or to Harness, now, it's givin' us the chuck--to save your skins--you +won't get over that, my boys; it's a dirty thing to do. + + [He gets down; during his little speech, which is ironically + spoken, there is a restless discomfort in the crowd. ROUS, + stepping forward, jumps on the platform. He has an air of + fierce distraction. Sullen murmurs of disapproval from the + crowd.] + +ROUS. [Speaking with great excitement.] I'm no blanky orator, +mates, but wot I say is drove from me. What I say is yuman nature. +Can a man set an' see 'is mother starve? Can 'e now? + +ROBERTS. [Starting forward.] Rous! + +ROUS. [Staring at him fiercely.] Sim 'Arness said fair! I've +changed my mind! + +ROBERTS. Ah! Turned your coat you mean! + + [The crowd manifests a great surprise.] + +LEWIS. [Apostrophising Rous.] Hallo! What's turned him round? + +ROUS. [Speaking with intense excitement.] 'E said fair. "Stand by +us," 'e said, "and we'll stand by you." That's where we've been +makin' our mistake this long time past; and who's to blame fort? [He +points at ROBERTS] That man there! "No," 'e said, "fight the +robbers," 'e said, "squeeze the breath out o' them!" But it's not the +breath out o' them that's being squeezed; it's the breath out of us +and ours, and that's the book of truth. I'm no orator, mates, it's +the flesh and blood in me that's speakin', it's the heart o' me. +[With a menacing, yet half-ashamed movement towards ROBERTS.] He'll +speak to you again, mark my words, but don't ye listen. [The crowd +groans.] It's hell fire that's on that man's tongue. [ROBERTS is +seen laughing.] Sim 'Arness is right. What are we without the +Union--handful o' parched leaves--a puff o' smoke. I'm no orator, +but I say: Chuck it up! Chuck it up! Sooner than go on starving the +women and the children. + + [The murmurs of acquiescence almost drown the murmurs of + dissent.] + +EVANS. What's turned you to blacklegging? + +ROUS. [With a furious look.] Sim 'Arness knows what he's talking +about. Give us power to come to terms with London; I'm no orator, +but I say--have done wi' this black misery! + + [He gives his muter a twist, jerks his head back, and jumps off + the platform. The crowd applauds and surges forward. Amid + cries of "That's enough!" "Up Union!" "Up Harness!" ROBERTS + quietly ascends the platform. There is a moment of silence.] + +BLACKSMITH. We don't want to hear you. Shut it! + +HENRY Rous. Get down! + + [Amid such cries they surge towards the platform.] + +EVANS. [Fiercely.] Let 'im speak! Roberts! Roberts! + +BULGIN. [Muttering.] He'd better look out that I don't crack his +skull. + + [ROBERTS faces the crowd, probing them with his eyes till they + gradually become silent. He begins speaking. One of the + bargemen rises and stands.] + +ROBERTS. You don't want to hear me, then? You'll listen to Rous and +to that old man, but not to me. You'll listen to Sim Harness of the +Union that's treated you so fair; maybe you'll listen to those men +from London? Ah! You groan! What for? You love their feet on your +necks, don't you? [Then as BULGIN elbows his way towards the +platform, with calm bathos.] You'd like to break my jaw, John +Bulgin. Let me speak, then do your smashing, if it gives you +pleasure. [BULGIN Stands motionless and sullen.] Am I a liar, a +coward, a traitor? If only I were, ye'd listen to me, I'm sure. +[The murmurings cease, and there is now dead silence.] Is there a +man of you here that has less to gain by striking? Is there a man of +you that had more to lose? Is there a man of you that has given up +eight hundred pounds since this trouble here began? Come now, is +there? How much has Thomas given up--ten pounds or five, or what? +You listened to him, and what had he to say? "None can pretend," he +said, "that I'm not a believer in principle--[with biting irony]--but +when Nature says: 'No further, 't es going agenst Nature.'" I tell +you if a man cannot say to Nature: "Budge me from this if ye can!"-- +[with a sort of exaltation] his principles are but his belly. "Oh, +but," Thomas says, "a man can be pure and honest, just and merciful, +and take off his hat to Nature!" I tell you Nature's neither pure +nor honest, just nor merciful. You chaps that live over the hill, +an' go home dead beat in the dark on a snowy night--don't ye fight +your way every inch of it? Do ye go lyin' down an' trustin' to the +tender mercies of this merciful Nature? Try it and you'll soon know +with what ye've got to deal. 'T es only by that--[he strikes a blow +with his clenched fist]--in Nature's face that a man can be a man. +"Give in," says Thomas, "go down on your knees; throw up your foolish +fight, an' perhaps," he said, "perhaps your enemy will chuck you down +a crust." + +JAGO. Never! + +EVANS. Curse them! + +THOMAS. I nefer said that. + +ROBERTS. [Bitingly.] If ye did not say it, man, ye meant it. +An' what did ye say about Chapel? "Chapel's against it," ye said. +"She 's against it!" Well, if Chapel and Nature go hand in hand, +it's the first I've ever heard of it. That young man there-- +[pointing to ROUS]--said I 'ad 'ell fire on my tongue. If I had I +would use it all to scorch and wither this talking of surrender. +Surrendering 's the work of cowards and traitors. + +HENRY ROUS. [As GEORGE ROUS moves forward.] Go for him, George-- +don't stand his lip! + +ROBERTS. [Flinging out his finger.] Stop there, George Rous, it's +no time this to settle personal matters. [ROUS stops.] But there +was one other spoke to you--Mr. Simon Harness. We have not much to +thank Mr. Harness and the Union for. They said to us "Desert your +mates, or we'll desert you." An' they did desert us. + +EVANS. They did. + +ROBERTS. Mr. Simon Harness is a clever man, but he has come too +late. [With intense conviction.] For all that Mr. Simon Harness +says, for all that Thomas, Rous, for all that any man present here +can say--We've won the fight! + + [The crowd sags nearer, looking eagerly up.] + +[With withering scorn.] You've felt the pinch o't in your bellies. +You've forgotten what that fight 'as been; many times I have told +you; I will tell you now this once again. The fight o' the country's +body and blood against a blood-sucker. The fight of those that spend +themselves with every blow they strike and every breath they draw, +against a thing that fattens on them, and grows and grows by the law +of merciful Nature. That thing is Capital! A thing that buys the +sweat o' men's brows, and the tortures o' their brains, at its own +price. Don't I know that? Wasn't the work o' my brains bought for +seven hundred pounds, and has n't one hundred thousand pounds been +gained them by that seven hundred without the stirring of a finger. +It is a thing that will take as much and give you as little as it +can. That's Capital! A thing that will say--"I'm very sorry for +you, poor fellows--you have a cruel time of it, I know," but will not +give one sixpence of its dividends to help you have a better time. +That's Capital! Tell me, for all their talk, is there one of them +that will consent to another penny on the Income Tax to help the +poor? That's Capital! A white-faced, stony-hearted monster! Ye +have got it on its knees; are ye to give up at the last minute to +save your miserable bodies pain? When I went this morning to those +old men from London, I looked into their very 'earts. One of them +was sitting there--Mr. Scantlebury, a mass of flesh nourished on us: +sittin' there for all the world like the shareholders in this +Company, that sit not moving tongue nor finger, takin' dividends a +great dumb ox that can only be roused when its food is threatened. +I looked into his eyes and I saw he was afraid--afraid for himself +and his dividends; afraid for his fees, afraid of the very +shareholders he stands for; and all but one of them's afraid--like +children that get into a wood at night, and start at every rustle of +the leaves. I ask you, men--[he pauses, holding out his hand till +there is utter silence]--give me a free hand to tell them: "Go you +back to London. The men have nothing for you!" [A murmuring.] Give +me that, an' I swear to you, within a week you shall have from London +all you want. + +EVANS, JAGO, and OTHERS. A free hand! Give him a free hand! Bravo +--bravo! + +ROBERTS. 'T is not for this little moment of time we're fighting +[the murmuring dies], not for ourselves, our own little bodies, and +their wants, 't is for all those that come after throughout all time. +[With intense sadness.] Oh! men--for the love o' them, don't roll +up another stone upon their heads, don't help to blacken the sky, an' +let the bitter sea in over them. They're welcome to the worst that +can happen to me, to the worst that can happen to us all, are n't +they--are n't they? If we can shake [passionately] that white-faced +monster with the bloody lips, that has sucked the life out of +ourselves, our wives, and children, since the world began. [Dropping +the note of passion but with the utmost weight and intensity.] If we +have not the hearts of men to stand against it breast to breast, and +eye to eye, and force it backward till it cry for mercy, it will go +on sucking life; and we shall stay forever what we are [in almost a +whisper], less than the very dogs. + + [An utter stillness, and ROBERTS stands rocking his body + slightly, with his eyes burning the faces of the crowd.] + +EVANS and JAGO. [Suddenly.] Roberts! [The shout is taken up.] + + [There is a slight movement in the crowd, and MADGE passing + below the towing-path, stops by the platform, looking up at + ROBERTS. A sudden doubting silence.] + +ROBERTS. "Nature," says that old man, "give in to Nature." I tell +you, strike your blow in Nature's face--an' let it do its worst! + + [He catches sight of MADGE, his brows contract, he looks away.] + +MADGE. [In a low voice-close to the platform.] Your wife's dying! + + [ROBERTS glares at her as if torn from some pinnacle of + exaltation.] + +ROBERTS. [Trying to stammer on.] I say to you--answer them--answer +them---- + + [He is drowned by the murmur in the crowd.] + +THOMAS. [Stepping forward.] Ton't you hear her, then? + +ROBERTS. What is it? [A dead silence.] + +THOMAS. Your wife, man! + + [ROBERTS hesitates, then with a gesture, he leaps down, and goes + away below the towing-path, the men making way for him. The + standing bargeman opens and prepares to light a lantern. + Daylight is fast failing.] + +MADGE. He need n't have hurried! Annie Roberts is dead. [Then in +the silence, passionately.] You pack of blinded hounds! How many +more women are you going to let to die? + + [The crowd shrinks back from her, and breaks up in groups, with + a confused, uneasy movement. MADGE goes quickly away below the + towing-path. There is a hush as they look after her.] + +LEWIS. There's a spitfire, for ye! + +BULGIN. [Growling.] I'll smash 'er jaw. + +GREEN. If I'd a-been listened to, that poor woman---- + +THOMAS. It's a judgment on him for going against Chapel. I tolt him +how 't would be! + +EVANS. All the more reason for sticking by 'im. [A cheer.] Are you +goin' to desert him now 'e 's down? Are you going to chuck him over, +now 'e 's lost 'is wife? + + [The crowd is murmuring and cheering all at once.] + +ROUS. [Stepping in front of platform.] Lost his wife! Aye! Can't +ye see? Look at home, look at your own wives! What's to save them? +Ye'll have the same in all your houses before long! + +LEWIS. Aye, aye! + +HENRY ROUS. Right! George, right! + + [There are murmurs of assent.] + +ROUS. It's not us that's blind, it's Roberts. How long will ye put +up with 'im! + +HENRY, ROUS, BULGIN, DAVIES. Give 'im the chuck! + + [The cry is taken up.] + +EVANS. [Fiercely.] Kick a man that's down? Down? + +HENRY ROUS. Stop his jaw there! + + [EVANS throws up his arm at a threat from BULGIN. The bargeman, + who has lighted the lantern, holds it high above his head.] + +ROUS. [Springing on to the platform.] What brought him down then, +but 'is own black obstinacy? Are ye goin' to follow a man that can't +see better than that where he's goin'? + +EVANS. He's lost 'is wife. + +ROUS. An' who's fault's that but his own. 'Ave done with 'im, I +say, before he's killed your own wives and mothers. + +DAVIES. Down 'im! + +HENRY ROUS. He's finished! + +BROWN. We've had enough of 'im! + +BLACKSMITH. Too much! + + [The crowd takes up these cries, excepting only EVANS, JAGO, and + GREEN, who is seen to argue mildly with the BLACKSMITH.] + +ROUS. [Above the hubbub.] We'll make terms with the Union, lads. + + + [Cheers.] + +EVANS. [Fiercely.] Ye blacklegs! + +BULGIN. [Savagely-squaring up to him.] Who are ye callin' +blacklegs, Rat? + + [EVANS throws up his fists, parries the blow, and returns it. + They fight. The bargemen are seen holding up the lantern and + enjoying the sight. Old THOMAS steps forward and holds out his + hands.] + +THOMAS. Shame on your strife! + + [The BLACKSMITH, BROWN, LEWIS, and the RED-HAIRED YOUTH pull + EVANS and BULGIN apart. The stage is almost dark.] + + + The curtain falls. + + + + +ACT III + + It is five o'clock. In the UNDERWOODS' drawing-room, which is + artistically furnished, ENID is sitting on the sofa working at a + baby's frock. EDGAR, by a little spindle-legged table in the + centre of the room, is fingering a china-box. His eyes are + fixed on the double-doors that lead into the dining-room. + +EDGAR. [Putting down the china-box, and glancing at his watch.] +Just on five, they're all in there waiting, except Frank. Where's +he? + +ENID. He's had to go down to Gasgoyne's about a contract. Will you +want him? + +EDGAR. He can't help us. This is a director's job. [Motioning +towards a single door half hidden by a curtain.] Father in his room? + +ENID. Yes. + +EDGAR. I wish he'd stay there, Enid. + + [ENID looks up at him. This is a beastly business, old girl?] + + [He takes up the little box again and turns it over and over.] + +ENID. I went to the Roberts's this afternoon, Ted. + +EDGAR. That was n't very wise. + +ENID. He's simply killing his wife. + +EDGAR. We are you mean. + +ENID. [Suddenly.] Roberts ought to give way! + +EDGAR. There's a lot to be said on the men's side. + +ENID. I don't feel half so sympathetic with them as I did before I +went. They just set up class feeling against you. Poor Annie was +looking dread fully bad--fire going out, and nothing fit for her to +eat. + + [EDGAR walks to and fro.] + +But she would stand up for Roberts. When you see all this +wretchedness going on and feel you can do nothing, you have to shut +your eyes to the whole thing. + +EDGAR. If you can. + +ENID. When I went I was all on their side, but as soon as I got +there I began to feel quite different at once. People talk about +sympathy with the working classes, they don't know what it means to +try and put it into practice. It seems hopeless. + +EDGAR. Ah! well. + +ENID. It's dreadful going on with the men in this state. I do hope +the Dad will make concessions. + +EDGAR. He won't. [Gloomily.] It's a sort of religion with him. +Curse it! I know what's coming! He'll be voted down. + +ENID. They would n't dare! + +EDGAR. They will--they're in a funk. + +ENID. [Indignantly.] He'd never stand it! + +EDGAR. [With a shrug.] My dear girl, if you're beaten in a vote, +you've got to stand it. + +ENID. Oh! [She gets up in alarm.] But would he resign? + +EDGAR. Of course! It goes to the roots of his beliefs. + +ENID. But he's so wrapped up in this company, Ted! There'd be +nothing left for him! It'd be dreadful! + + [EDGAR shrugs his shoulders.] + +Oh, Ted, he's so old now! You must n't let them! + +EDGAR. [Hiding his feelings in an outburst.] My sympathies in this +strike are all on the side of the men. + +ENID. He's been Chairman for more than thirty years! He made the +whole thing! And think of the bad times they've had; it's always +been he who pulled them through. Oh, Ted, you must! + +EDGAR. What is it you want? You said just now you hoped he'd make +concessions. Now you want me to back him in not making them. This +is n't a game, Enid! + +ENID. [Hotly.] It is n't a game to me that the Dad's in danger of +losing all he cares about in life. If he won't give way, and he's +beaten, it'll simply break him down! + +EDGAR. Did n't you say it was dreadful going on with the men in this +state? + +ENID. But can't you see, Ted, Father'll never get over it! You must +stop them somehow. The others are afraid of him. If you back him +up---- + +EDGAR. [Putting his hand to his head.] Against my convictions-- +against yours! The moment it begins to pinch one personally---- + +ENID. It is n't personal, it's the Dad! + +EDGAR. Your family or yourself, and over goes the show! + +ENID. [Resentfully.] If you don't take it seriously, I do. + +EDGAR. I am as fond of him as you are; that's nothing to do with it. + +ENID. We can't tell about the men; it's all guess-work. But we know +the Dad might have a stroke any day. D' you mean to say that he +isn't more to you than---- + +EDGAR. Of course he is. + +ENID. I don't understand you then. + +EDGAR. H'm! + +ENID. If it were for oneself it would be different, but for our own +Father! You don't seem to realise. + +EDGAR. I realise perfectly. + +ENID. It's your first duty to save him. + +EDGAR. I wonder. + +ENID. [Imploring.] Oh, Ted? It's the only interest he's got left; +it'll be like a death-blow to him! + +EDGAR. [Restraining his emotion.] I know. + +ENID. Promise! + +EDGAR. I'll do what I can. + + [He turns to the double-doors.] + + [The curtained door is opened, and ANTHONY appears. EDGAR opens + the double-doors, and passes through.] + + [SCANTLEBURY'S voice is faintly heard: "Past five; we shall + never get through--have to eat another dinner at that hotel!" + The doors are shut. ANTHONY walks forward.] + +ANTHONY. You've been seeing Roberts, I hear. + +ENID. Yes. + +ANTHONY. Do you know what trying to bridge such a gulf as this is +like? + + [ENID puts her work on the little table, and faces him.] + +Filling a sieve with sand! + +ENID. Don't! + +ANTHONY. You think with your gloved hands you can cure the trouble +of the century. + + [He passes on. ] + +ENID. Father! + + [ANTHONY Stops at the double doors.] + +I'm only thinking of you! + +ANTHONY. [More softly.] I can take care of myself, my dear. + +ENID. Have you thought what'll happen if you're beaten-- +[she points]--in there? + +ANTHONY. I don't mean to be. + +ENID. Oh! Father, don't give them a chance. You're not well; need +you go to the meeting at all? + +ANTHONY. [With a grim smile.] Cut and run? + +ENID. But they'll out-vote you! + +ANTHONY. [Putting his hand on the doors.] We shall see! + +ENID. I beg you, Dad! Won't you? + + [ANTHONY looks at her softly.] + + [ANTHONY shakes his head. He opens the doors. A buzz of voices + comes in.] + +SCANTLEBURY. Can one get dinner on that 6.30 train up? + +TENCH. No, Sir, I believe not, sir. + +WILDER. Well, I shall speak out; I've had enough of this. + +EDGAR. [Sharply.] What? + + [It ceases instantly. ANTHONY passes through, closing the doors + behind him. ENID springs to them with a gesture of dismay. She + puts her hand on the knob, and begins turning it; then goes to + the fireplace, and taps her foot on the fender. Suddenly she + rings the bell. FROST comes in by the door that leads into the + hall.] + +FROST. Yes, M'm? + +ENID. When the men come, Frost, please show them in here; the +hall 's cold. + +FROST. I could put them in the pantry, M'm. + +ENID. No. I don't want to--to offend them; they're so touchy. + +FROST. Yes, M'm. [Pause.] Excuse me, Mr. Anthony's 'ad nothing to +eat all day. + +ENID. I know Frost. + +FROST. Nothin' but two whiskies and sodas, M'm. + +ENID. Oh! you oughtn't to have let him have those. + +FROST. [Gravely.] Mr. Anthony is a little difficult, M'm. It's not +as if he were a younger man, an' knew what was good for 'im; he will +have his own way. + +ENID. I suppose we all want that. + +FROST. Yes, M'm. [Quietly.] Excuse me speakin' about the strike. +I'm sure if the other gentlemen were to give up to Mr. Anthony, and +quietly let the men 'ave what they want, afterwards, that'd be the +best way. I find that very useful with him at times, M'm. + + [ENID shakes hey head.] + +If he's crossed, it makes him violent, [with an air of discovery] +and I've noticed in my own case, when I'm violent I'm always sorry +for it afterwards. + +ENID. [With a smile.] Are you ever violent, Frost? + +FROST. Yes, M'm; oh! sometimes very violent. + +ENID. I've never seen you. + +FROST. [Impersonally.] No, M'm; that is so. + + [ENID fidgets towards the back of the door.] + +[With feeling.] Bein' with Mr. Anthony, as you know, M'm, ever since +I was fifteen, it worries me to see him crossed like this at his age. +I've taken the liberty to speak to Mr. Wanklin [dropping his voice]-- +seems to be the most sensible of the gentlemen--but 'e said to me: +"That's all very well, Frost, but this strike's a very serious +thing," 'e said. "Serious for all parties, no doubt," I said, "but +yumour 'im, sir," I said, "yumour 'im. It's like this, if a man +comes to a stone wall, 'e does n't drive 'is 'ead against it, 'e gets +over it." "Yes," 'e said, "you'd better tell your master that." +[FROST looks at his nails.] That's where it is, M'm. I said to Mr. +Anthony this morning: "Is it worth it, sir?" "Damn it," he said to +me, "Frost! Mind your own business, or take a month's notice!" Beg +pardon, M'm, for using such a word. + +ENID. [Moving to the double-doors, and listening.] Do you know that +man Roberts, Frost? + +FROST. Yes, M'm; that's to say, not to speak to. But to look at 'im +you can tell what he's like. + +ENID. [Stopping.] Yes? + +FROST. He's not one of these 'ere ordinary 'armless Socialists. +'E's violent; got a fire inside 'im. What I call "personal." A man +may 'ave what opinions 'e likes, so long as 'e 's not personal; when +'e 's that 'e 's not safe. + +ENID. I think that's what my father feels about Roberts. + +FROST. No doubt, M'm, Mr. Anthony has a feeling against him. + + [ENID glances at him sharply, but finding him in perfect + earnest, stands biting her lips, and looking at the + double-doors.] + +It 's, a regular right down struggle between the two. I've no +patience with this Roberts, from what I 'ear he's just an ordinary +workin' man like the rest of 'em. If he did invent a thing he's no +worse off than 'undreds of others. My brother invented a new kind o' +dumb-waiter--nobody gave him anything for it, an' there it is, bein' +used all over the place. + + [ENID moves closer to the double-doors.] + +There's a kind o' man that never forgives the world, because 'e +wasn't born a gentleman. What I say is--no man that's a gentleman +looks down on another because 'e 'appens to be a class or two above +'im, no more than if 'e 'appens to be a class or two below. + +ENID. [With slight impatience.] Yes, I know, Frost, of course. +Will you please go in and ask if they'll have some tea; say I sent +you. + +FROST. Yes, M'm. + + [He opens the doors gently and goes in. There is a momentary + sound of earnest, gather angry talk.] + +WILDER. I don't agree with you. + +WANKLIN. We've had this over a dozen times. + +EDGAR. [Impatiently.] Well, what's the proposition? + +SCANTLEBURY. Yes, what does your father say? Tea? Not for me, not +for me! + +WANKLIN. What I understand the Chairman to say is this---- + + [FROST re-enters closing the door behind him.] + +ENID. [Moving from the door.] Won't they have any tea, Frost? + + [She goes to the little table, and remains motionless, looking + at the baby's frock.] + + [A parlourmaid enters from the hall.] + +PARLOURMAID. A Miss Thomas, M'm + +ENID. [Raising her head.] Thomas? What Miss Thomas--d' you +mean a----? + +PARLOURMAID. Yes, M'm. + +ENID. [Blankly.] Oh! Where is she? + +PARLOURMAID. In the porch. + +ENID. I don't want----[She hesitates.] + +FROST. Shall I dispose of her, M'm? + +ENID. I 'll come out. No, show her in here, Ellen. + + [The PARLOUR MAID and FROST go out. ENID pursing her lips, sits + at the little table, taking up the baby's frock. The + PARLOURMAID ushers in MADGE THOMAS and goes out; MADGE stands by + the door.] + +ENID. Come in. What is it. What have you come for, please? + +MADGE. Brought a message from Mrs. Roberts. + +ENID. A message? Yes. + +MADGE. She asks you to look after her mother. + +ENID. I don't understand. + +MADGE. [Sullenly.] That's the message. + +ENID. But--what--why? + +MADGE. Annie Roberts is dead. + + [There is a silence.] + +ENID. [Horrified.] But it's only a little more than an hour since I +saw her. + +MADGE. Of cold and hunger. + +ENID. [Rising.] Oh! that's not true! the poor thing's heart---- +What makes you look at me like that? I tried to help her. + +MADGE. [With suppressed savagery.] I thought you'd like to know. + +ENID. [Passionately.] It's so unjust! Can't you see that I want to +help you all? + +MADGE. I never harmed any one that had n't harmed me first. + +ENID. [Coldly.] What harm have I done you? Why do you speak to me +like that? + +MADGE. [With the bitterest intensity.] You come out of your comfort +to spy on us! A week of hunger, that's what you want! + +ENID. [Standing her ground.] Don't talk nonsense! + +MADGE. I saw her die; her hands were blue with the cold. + +ENID. [With a movement of grief.] Oh! why wouldn't she let me help +her? It's such senseless pride! + +MADGE. Pride's better than nothing to keep your body warm. + +ENID. [Passionately.] I won't talk to you! How can you tell what I +feel? It's not my fault that I was born better off than you. + +MADGE. We don't want your money. + +ENID. You don't understand, and you don't want to; please to go +away! + +MADGE. [Balefully.] You've killed her, for all your soft words, you +and your father! + +ENID. [With rage and emotion.] That's wicked! My father is +suffering himself through this wretched strike. + +MADGE. [With sombre triumph.] Then tell him Mrs. Roberts is dead! +That 'll make him better. + +ENID. Go away! + +MADGE. When a person hurts us we get it back on them. + + [She makes a sudden and swift movement towards ENID, fixing her + eyes on the child's frock lying across the little table. ENID + snatches the frock up, as though it were the child itself. They + stand a yard apart, crossing glances.] + +MADGE. [Pointing to the frock with a little smile.] Ah! You felt +that! Lucky it's her mother--not her children--you've to look after, +is n't it. She won't trouble you long! + +ENID. Go away! + +MADGE. I've given you the message. + + [She turns and goes out into the hall. ENID, motionless till + she has gone, sinks down at the table, bending her head over the + frock, which she is still clutching to her. The double-doors + are opened, and ANTHONY comes slowly in; he passes his daughter, + and lowers himself into an arm-chair. He is very flushed.] + +ENID. [Hiding her emotion-anxiously.] What is it, Dad? + + [ANTHONY makes a gesture, but does not speak.] + +Who was it? + + [ANTHONY does not answer. ENID going to the double-doors meets + EDGAR Coming in. They speak together in low tones.] + +What is it, Ted? + +EDGAR. That fellow Wilder! Taken to personalities! He was +downright insulting. + +ENID. What did he say? + +EDGAR. Said, Father was too old and feeble to know what he was +doing! The Dad's worth six of him! + +ENID. Of course he is. + + [They look at ANTHONY.] + + [The doors open wider, WANKLIN appears With SCANTLEBURY.] + +SCANTLEBURY. [Sotto voce.] I don't like the look of this! + +WANKLIN. [Going forward.] Come, Chairman! Wilder sends you his +apologies. A man can't do more. + + [WILDER, followed by TENCH, comes in, and goes to ANTHONY.] + +WILDER. [Glumly.] I withdraw my words, sir. I'm sorry. + + [ANTHONY nods to him.] + +ENID. You have n't come to a decision, Mr. Wanklin? + + [WANKLIN shakes his head.] + +WANKLIN. We're all here, Chairman; what do you say? Shall we get on +with the business, or shall we go back to the other room? + +SCANTLEBURY. Yes, yes; let's get on. We must settle something. + + [He turns from a small chair, and settles himself suddenly in + the largest chair with a sigh of comfort.] + + [WILDER and WANKLIN also sit; and TENCH, drawing up a + straight-backed chair close to his Chairman, sits on the edge + of it with the minute-book and a stylographic pen.] + +ENID. [Whispering.] I want to speak to you a minute, Ted. + + [They go out through the double-doors.] + +WANKLIN. Really, Chairman, it's no use soothing ourselves with a +sense of false security. If this strike's not brought to an end +before the General Meeting, the shareholders will certainly haul us +over the coals. + +SCANTLEBURY. [Stirring.] What--what's that? + +WANKLIN. I know it for a fact. + +ANTHONY. Let them! + +WILDER. And get turned out? + +WANKLIN. [To ANTHONY.] I don't mind martyrdom for a policy in which +I believe, but I object to being burnt for some one else's +principles. + +SCANTLEBURY. Very reasonable--you must see that, Chairman. + +ANTHONY. We owe it to other employers to stand firm. + +WANKLIN. There's a limit to that. + +ANTHONY. You were all full of fight at the start. + +SCANTLEBURY. [With a sort of groan.] We thought the men would give +in, but they-have n't! + +ANTHONY. They will! + +WILDER. [Rising and pacing up and down.] I can't have my reputation +as a man of business destroyed for the satisfaction of starving the +men out. [Almost in tears.] I can't have it! How can we meet the +shareholders with things in the state they are? + +SCANTLEBURY. Hear, hear--hear, hear! + +WILDER. [Lashing himself.] If any one expects me to say to them +I've lost you fifty thousand pounds and sooner than put my pride in +my pocket I'll lose you another. [Glancing at ANTHONY.] It's--it's +unnatural! I don't want to go against you, sir. + +WANKLIN. [Persuasively.] Come Chairman, we 're not free agents. +We're part of a machine. Our only business is to see the Company +earns as much profit as it safely can. If you blame me for want of +principle: I say that we're Trustees. Reason tells us we shall never +get back in the saving of wages what we shall lose if we continue +this struggle--really, Chairman, we must bring it to an end, on the +best terms we can make. + +ANTHONY. No. + + [There is a pause of general dismay.] + +WILDER. It's a deadlock then. [Letting his hands drop with a sort +of despair.] Now I shall never get off to Spain! + +WANKLIN. [Retaining a trace of irony.] You hear the consequences of +your victory, Chairman? + +WILDER. [With a burst of feeling.] My wife's ill! + +SCANTLEBURY. Dear, dear! You don't say so. + +WILDER. If I don't get her out of this cold, I won't answer for the +consequences. + + [Through the double-doors EDGAR comes in looking very grave.] + +EDGAR. [To his Father.] Have you heard this, sir? Mrs. Roberts is +dead! + + [Every one stages at him, as if trying to gauge the importance + of this news.] + +Enid saw her this afternoon, she had no coals, or food, or anything. +It's enough! + + [There is a silence, every one avoiding the other's eyes, except + ANTHONY, who stares hard at his son.] + +SCANTLEBURY. You don't suggest that we could have helped the poor +thing? + +WILDER. [Flustered.] The woman was in bad health. Nobody can say +there's any responsibility on us. At least--not on me. + +EDGAR. [Hotly.] I say that we are responsible. + +ANTHONY. War is war! + +EDGAR. Not on women! + +WANKLIN. It not infrequently happens that women are the greatest +sufferers. + +EDGAR. If we knew that, all the more responsibility rests on us. + +ANTHONY. This is no matter for amateurs. + +EDGAR. Call me what you like, sir. It's sickened me. We had no +right to carry things to such a length. + +WILDER. I don't like this business a bit--that Radical rag will +twist it to their own ends; see if they don't! They'll get up some +cock and bull story about the poor woman's dying from starvation. I +wash my hands of it. + +EDGAR. You can't. None of us can. + +SCANTLEBURY. [Striking his fist on the arm of his chair.] But I +protest against this! + +EDGAR. Protest as you like, Mr. Scantlebury, it won't alter facts. + +ANTHONY. That's enough. + +EDGAR. [Facing him angrily.] No, sir. I tell you exactly what I +think. If we pretend the men are not suffering, it's humbug; and if +they're suffering, we know enough of human nature to know the women +are suffering more, and as to the children--well--it's damnable! + + [SCANTLEBURY rises from his chair.] + +I don't say that we meant to be cruel, I don't say anything of the +sort; but I do say it's criminal to shut our eyes to the facts. We +employ these men, and we can't get out of it. I don't care so much +about the men, but I'd sooner resign my position on the Board than go +on starving women in this way. + + [All except ANTHONY are now upon their feet, ANTHONY sits + grasping the arms of his chair and staring at his son.] + +SCANTLEBURY. I don't--I don't like the way you're putting it, young +sir. + +WANKLIN. You're rather overshooting the mark. + +WILDER. I should think so indeed! + +EDGAR. [Losing control.] It's no use blinking things! If you want +to have the death of women on your hands--I don't! + +SCANTLEBURY. Now, now, young man! + +WILDER. On our hands? Not on mine, I won't have it! + +EDGAR. We are five members of this Board; if we were four against +it, why did we let it drift till it came to this? You know perfectly +well why--because we hoped we should starve the men out. Well, all +we've done is to starve one woman out! + +SCANTLEBURY. [Almost hysterically.] I protest, I protest! I'm a +humane man--we're all humane men! + +EDGAR. [Scornfully.] There's nothing wrong with our humanity. It's +our imaginations, Mr. Scantlebury. + +WILDER. Nonsense! My imagination's as good as yours. + +EDGAR. If so, it is n't good enough. + +WILDER. I foresaw this! + +EDGAR. Then why didn't you put your foot down! + +WILDER. Much good that would have done. + + [He looks at ANTHONY.] + +EDGAR. If you, and I, and each one of us here who say that our +imaginations are so good-- + +SCANTLEBURY. [Flurried.] I never said so. + +EDGAR. [Paying no attention.]--had put our feet down, the thing +would have been ended long ago, and this poor woman's life wouldn't +have been crushed out of her like this. For all we can tell there +may be a dozen other starving women. + +SCANTLEBURY. For God's sake, sir, don't use that word at a--at a +Board meeting; it's--it's monstrous. + +EDGAR. I will use it, Mr. Scantlebury. + +SCANTLEBURY. Then I shall not listen to you. I shall not listen! +It's painful to me. + + [He covers his ears.] + +WANKLIN. None of us are opposed to a settlement, except your Father. + +EDGAR. I'm certain that if the shareholders knew---- + +WANKLIN. I don't think you'll find their imaginations are any better +than ours. Because a woman happens to have a weak heart---- + +EDGAR. A struggle like this finds out the weak spots in everybody. +Any child knows that. If it hadn't been for this cut-throat policy, +she need n't have died like this; and there would n't be all this +misery that any one who is n't a fool can see is going on. + + [Throughout the foregoing ANTHONY has eyed his son; he now moves + as though to rise, but stops as EDGAR speaks again.] + +I don't defend the men, or myself, or anybody. + +WANKLIN. You may have to! A coroner's jury of disinterested +sympathisers may say some very nasty things. We mustn't lose sight +of our position. + +SCANTLEBURY. [Without uncovering his ears.] Coroner's jury! No, +no, it's not a case for that! + +EDGAR. I 've had enough of cowardice. + +WANKLIN. Cowardice is an unpleasant word, Mr. Edgar Anthony. It +will look very like cowardice if we suddenly concede the men's +demands when a thing like this happens; we must be careful! + +WILDER. Of course we must. We've no knowledge of this matter, +except a rumour. The proper course is to put the whole thing into +the hands of Harness to settle for us; that's natural, that's what we +should have come to any way. + +SCANTLEBURY. [With dignity.] Exactly! [Turning to EDGAR.] And as +to you, young sir, I can't sufficiently express my--my distaste for +the way you've treated the whole matter. You ought to withdraw! +Talking of starvation, talking of cowardice! Considering what our +views are! Except your own is--is one of goodwill--it's most +irregular, it's most improper, and all I can say is it's--it's given +me pain---- + + [He places his hand over his heart.] + +EDGAR. [Stubbornly.] I withdraw nothing. + + [He is about to say mote when SCANTLEBURY once more coveys up + his ears. TENCH suddenly makes a demonstration with the + minute-book. A sense of having been engaged in the unusual comes + over all of them, and one by one they resume their seats. EDGAR + alone remains on his feet.] + +WILDER. [With an air of trying to wipe something out.] I pay no +attention to what young Mr. Anthony has said. Coroner's jury! The +idea's preposterous. I--I move this amendment to the Chairman's +Motion: That the dispute be placed at once in the hands of Mr. Simon +Harness for settlement, on the lines indicated by him this morning. +Any one second that? + + [TENCH writes in his book.] + +WANKLIN. I do. + +WILDER. Very well, then; I ask the Chairman to put it to the Board. + +ANTHONY. [With a great sigh-slowly.] We have been made the subject +of an attack. [Looking round at WILDER and SCANTLEBURY with ironical +contempt.] I take it on my shoulders. I am seventy-six years old. I +have been Chairman of this Company since its inception two-and-thirty +years ago. I have seen it pass through good and evil report. My +connection with it began in the year that this young man was born. + + [EDGAR bows his head. ANTHONY, gripping his chair, goes on.] + +I have had do to with "men" for fifty years; I've always stood up to +them; I have never been beaten yet. I have fought the men of this +Company four times, and four times I have beaten them. It has been +said that I am not the man I was. [He looks at Wilder.] However +that may be, I am man enough to stand to my guns. + + [His voice grows stronger. The double-doors are opened. ENID + slips in, followed by UNDERWOOD, who restrains her.] + +The men have been treated justly, they have had fair wages, we have +always been ready to listen to complaints. It has been said that +times have changed; if they have, I have not changed with them. +Neither will I. It has been said that masters and men are equal! +Cant! There can only be one master in a house! Where two men meet +the better man will rule. It has been said that Capital and Labour +have the same interests. Cant! Their interests are as wide asunder +as the poles. It has been said that the Board is only part of a +machine. Cant! We are the machine; its brains and sinews; it is for +us to lead and to determine what is to be done, and to do it without +fear or favour. Fear of the men! Fear of the shareholders! Fear of +our own shadows! Before I am like that, I hope to die. + + [He pauses, and meeting his son's eyes, goes on.] + +There is only one way of treating "men"--with the iron hand. This +half and half business, the half and half manners of this generation, +has brought all this upon us. Sentiment and softness, and what this +young man, no doubt, would call his social policy. You can't eat +cake and have it! This middle-class sentiment, or socialism, or +whatever it may be, is rotten. Masters are masters, men are men! +Yield one demand, and they will make it six. They are [he smiles +grimly] like Oliver Twist, asking for more. If I were in their +place I should be the same. But I am not in their place. Mark my +words: one fine morning, when you have given way here, and given way +there--you will find you have parted with the ground beneath your +feet, and are deep in the bog of bankruptcy; and with you, +floundering in that bog, will be the very men you have given way to. +I have been accused of being a domineering tyrant, thinking only of +my pride--I am thinking of the future of this country, threatened +with the black waters of confusion, threatened with mob government, +threatened with what I cannot see. If by any conduct of mine I help +to bring this on us, I shall be ashamed to look my fellows in the +face. + + [ANTHONY stares before him, at what he cannot see, and there is + perfect stillness. FROST comes in from the hall, and all but + ANTHONY look round at him uneasily.] + +FROST. [To his master.] The men are here, sir. [ANTHONY makes a +gesture of dismissal.] Shall I bring them in, sir? + +ANTHONY. Wait! + + [FROST goes out, ANTHONY turns to face his son.] + +I come to the attack that has been made upon me. + + [EDGAR, with a gesture of deprecation, remains motionless with + his head a little bowed.] + +A woman has died. I am told that her blood is on my hands; I am told +that on my hands is the starvation and the suffering of other women +and of children. + +EDGAR. I said "on our hands," sir. + +ANTHONY. It is the same. [His voice grows stronger and stronger, +his feeling is more and more made manifest.] I am not aware that if +my adversary suffer in a fair fight not sought by me, it is my fault. +If I fall under his feet--as fall I may--I shall not complain. That +will be my look-out--and this is--his. I cannot separate, as I +would, these men from their women and children. A fair fight is a +fair fight! Let them learn to think before they pick a quarrel! + +EDGAR. [In a low voice.] But is it a fair fight, Father? Look at +them, and look at us! They've only this one weapon! + +ANTHONY. [Grimly.] And you're weak-kneed enough to teach them how +to use it! It seems the fashion nowadays for men to take their +enemy's side. I have not learnt that art. Is it my fault that they +quarrelled with their Union too? + +EDGAR. There is such a thing as Mercy. + +ANTHONY. And justice comes before it. + +EDGAR. What seems just to one man, sir, is injustice to another. + +ANTHONY. [With suppressed passion.] You accuse me of injustice--of +what amounts to inhumanity--of cruelty? + + [EDGAR makes a gesture of horror--a general frightened + movement.] + +WANKLIN. Come, come, Chairman. + +ANTHONY. [In a grim voice.] These are the words of my own son. +They are the words of a generation that I don't understand; the words +of a soft breed. + + [A general murmur. With a violent effort ANTHONY recovers his + control.] + +EDGAR. [Quietly.] I said it of myself, too, Father. + + [A long look is exchanged between them, and ANTHONY puts out his + hand with a gesture as if to sweep the personalities away; then + places it against his brow, swaying as though from giddiness. + There is a movement towards him. He moves them back.] + +ANTHONY. Before I put this amendment to the Board, I have one more +word to say. [He looks from face to face.] If it is carried, it +means that we shall fail in what we set ourselves to do. It means +that we shall fail in the duty that we owe to all Capital. It means +that we shall fail in the duty that we owe ourselves. It means that +we shall be open to constant attack to which we as constantly shall +have to yield. Be under no misapprehension--run this time, and you +will never make a stand again! You will have to fly like curs before +the whips of your own men. If that is the lot you wish for, you will +vote for this amendment. + + [He looks again, from face to face, finally resting his gaze on + EDGAR; all sit with their eyes on the ground. ANTHONY makes a + gesture, and TENCH hands him the book. He reads.] + +"Moved by Mr. Wilder, and seconded by Mr. Wanklin: 'That the men's +demands be placed at once in the hands of Mr. Simon Harness for +settlement on the lines indicated by him this morning.'" [With +sudden vigour.] Those in favour: Signify the same in the usual way! + + [For a minute no one moves; then hastily, just as ANTHONY is + about to speak, WILDER's hand and WANKLIN'S are held up, then + SCANTLEBURY'S, and last EDGAR'S who does not lift his head.] + + [ANTHONY lifts his own hand.] + +[In a clear voice.] The amendment is carried. I resign my position +on this Board. + + [ENID gasps, and there is dead silence. ANTHONY sits + motionless, his head slowly drooping; suddenly he heaves as + though the whole of his life had risen up within him.] + +Contrary? + +Fifty years! You have disgraced me, gentlemen. Bring in the men! + + [He sits motionless, staring before him. The Board draws + hurriedly together, and forms a group. TENCH in a frightened + manner speaks into the hall. UNDERWOOD almost forces ENID from + the room.] + +WILDER. [Hurriedly.] What's to be said to them? Why isn't Harness +here? Ought we to see the men before he comes? I don't---- + +TENCH. Will you come in, please? + + [Enter THOMAS, GREEN, BULGIN, and ROUS, who file up in a row + past the little table. TENCH sits down and writes. All eyes + are foxed on ANTHONY, who makes no sign.] + +WANKLIN. [Stepping up to the little table, with nervous cordiality.] +Well, Thomas, how's it to be? What's the result of your meeting? + +ROUS. Sim Harness has our answer. He'll tell you what it is. We're +waiting for him. He'll speak for us. + +WANKLIN. Is that so, Thomas? + +THOMAS. [Sullenly.] Yes. Roberts will not pe coming, his wife is +dead. + +SCANTLEBURY. Yes, yes! Poor woman! Yes! Yes! + +FROST. [Entering from the hall.] Mr. Harness, Sir! + + [As HARNESS enters he retires.] + + [HARNESS has a piece of paper in his hand, he bows to the + Directors, nods towards the men, and takes his stand behind the + little table in the very centre of the room.] + +HARNESS. Good evening, gentlemen. + + [TENCH, with the paper he has been writing, joins him, they + speak together in low tones.] + +WILDER. We've been waiting for you, Harness. Hope we shall come to +some---- + +FROST. [Entering from the hall.] Roberts! + + [He goes.] + + [ROBERTS comes hastily in, and stands staring at ANTHONY. His + face is drawn and old.] + +ROBERTS. Mr. Anthony, I am afraid I am a little late, I would have +been here in time but for something that--has happened. [To the +men.] Has anything been said? + +THOMAS. No! But, man, what made ye come? + +ROBERTS. Ye told us this morning, gentlemen, to go away and +reconsider our position. We have reconsidered it; we are here to +bring you the men's answer. [To ANTHONY.] Go ye back to London. We +have nothing for you. By no jot or tittle do we abate our demands, +nor will we until the whole of those demands are yielded. + + [ANTHONY looks at him but does not speak. There is a movement + amongst the men as though they were bewildered.] + +HARNESS. Roberts! + +ROBERTS. [Glancing fiercely at him, and back to ANTHONY.] Is that +clear enough for ye? Is it short enough and to the point? Ye made a +mistake to think that we would come to heel. Ye may break the body, +but ye cannot break the spirit. Get back to London, the men have +nothing for ye? + + [Pausing uneasily he takes a step towards the unmoving ANTHONY.] + +EDGAR. We're all sorry for you, Roberts, but---- + +ROBERTS. Keep your sorrow, young man. Let your father speak! + +HARNESS. [With the sheet of paper in his hand, speaking from behind +the little table.] Roberts! + +ROBERT. [TO ANTHONY, with passionate intensity.] Why don't ye +answer? + +HARNESS. Roberts! + +ROBERTS. [Turning sharply.] What is it? + +HARNESS. [Gravely.] You're talking without the book; things have +travelled past you. + + [He makes a sign to TENCH, who beckons the Directors. They + quickly sign his copy of the terms.] + +Look at this, man! [Holding up his sheet of paper.] "Demands +conceded, with the exception of those relating to the engineers and +furnace-men. Double wages for Saturday's overtime. Night-shifts as +they are." These terms have been agreed. The men go back to work +again to-morrow. The strike is at an end. + +ROBERTS. [Reading the paper, and turning on the men. They shrink +back from him, all but ROUS, who stands his ground. With deadly +stillness.] Ye have gone back on me? I stood by ye to the death; ye +waited for that to throw me over! + + [The men answer, all speaking together.] + +ROUS. It's a lie! + +THOMAS. Ye were past endurance, man. + +GREEN. If ye'd listen to me! + +BULGIN. (Under his breath.) Hold your jaw! + +ROBERTS. Ye waited for that! + +HARNESS. [Taking the Director's copy of the terms, and handing his +own to TENCH.] That's enough, men. You had better go. + + [The men shuffle slowly, awkwardly away.] + +WILDER. [In a low, nervous voice.] There's nothing to stay for now, +I suppose. [He follows to the door.] I shall have a try for that +train! Coming, Scantlebury? + +SCANTLEBURY. [Following with WANKLIN.] Yes, yes; wait for me. [He +stops as ROBERTS speaks.] + +ROBERTS. [To ANTHONY.] But ye have not signed them terms! They +can't make terms without their Chairman! Ye would never sign them +terms! [ANTHONY looks at him without speaking.] Don't tell me ye +have! for the love o' God! [With passionate appeal.] I reckoned on +ye! + +HARNESS. [Holding out the Director's copy of the teems.] The Board +has signed! + + [ROBERTS looks dully at the signatures--dashes the paper from + him, and covers up his eyes.] + +SCANTLEBURY. [Behind his hand to TENCH.] Look after the Chairman! +He's not well; he's not well--he had no lunch. If there's any fund +started for the women and children, put me down for--for twenty +pounds. + + [He goes out into the hall, in cumbrous haste; and WANKLIN, who + has been staring at ROBERTS and ANTHONY With twitchings of his + face, follows. EDGAR remains seated on the sofa, looking at the + ground; TENCH, returning to the bureau, writes in his minute-- + book. HARNESS stands by the little table, gravely watching + ROBERTS.] + +ROBERTS. Then you're no longer Chairman of this Company! [Breaking +into half-mad laughter.] Ah! ha-ah, ha, ha! They've thrown ye over +thrown over their Chairman: Ah-ha-ha! [With a sudden dreadful calm.] +So--they've done us both down, Mr. Anthony? + + [ENID, hurrying through the double-doors, comes quickly to her + father.] + +ANTHONY. Both broken men, my friend Roberts! + +HARNESS. [Coming down and laying his hands on ROBERTS'S sleeve.] +For shame, Roberts! Go home quietly, man; go home! + +ROBERTS. [Tearing his arm away.] Home? [Shrinking together--in a +whisper.] Home! + +ENID. [Quietly to her father.] Come away, dear! Come to your room + + [ANTHONY rises with an effort. He turns to ROBERTS who looks at + him. They stand several seconds, gazing at each other fixedly; + ANTHONY lifts his hand, as though to salute, but lets it fall. + The expression of ROBERTS'S face changes from hostility to + wonder. They bend their heads in token of respect. ANTHONY + turns, and slowly walks towards the curtained door. Suddenly + he sways as though about to fall, recovers himself, and is + assisted out by EDGAR and ENID; UNDERWOOD follows, but stops at + the door. ROBERTS remains motionless for several seconds, + staring intently after ANTHONY, then goes out into the hall.] + +TENCH. [Approaching HARNESS.] It's a great weight off my mind, Mr. +Harness! But what a painful scene, sir! [He wipes his brow.] + + [HARNESS, pale and resolute, regards with a grim half-smile the + quavering.] + +TENCH. It's all been so violent! What did he mean by: "Done us both +down?" If he has lost his wife, poor fellow, he oughtn't to have +spoken to the Chairman like that! + +HARNESS. A woman dead; and the two best men both broken! + +TENCH. [Staring at him-suddenly excited.] D'you know, sir--these +terms, they're the very same we drew up together, you and I, and put +to both sides before the fight began? All this--all this--and--and +what for? + +HARNESS. [In a slow grim voice.] That's where the fun comes in! + + [UNDERWOOD without turning from the door makes a gesture of + assent.] + + + The curtain falls. + +THE END + + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of The First Series Plays, Complete +by John Galsworthy + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE FIRST SERIES PLAYS, COMPLETE *** + +***** This file should be named 5055.txt or 5055.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + https://www.gutenberg.org/5/0/5/5055/ + +Produced by David Widger + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed. + +Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. 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Anyone seeking to utilize +this eBook outside of the United States should confirm copyright +status under the laws that apply to them. diff --git a/README.md b/README.md new file mode 100644 index 0000000..dd467d0 --- /dev/null +++ b/README.md @@ -0,0 +1,2 @@ +Project Gutenberg (https://www.gutenberg.org) public repository for +eBook #5055 (https://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/5055) diff --git a/old/gpl1w10.txt b/old/gpl1w10.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..abaecfc --- /dev/null +++ b/old/gpl1w10.txt @@ -0,0 +1,10581 @@ +The Project Gutenberg EBook of The First Series Plays, Complete +*** [Contains: The Silver Box, Joy, Strife] *** +#39 in our series by John Galsworthy + +Copyright laws are changing all over the world. Be sure to check the +copyright laws for your country before downloading or redistributing +this or any other Project Gutenberg eBook. + +This header should be the first thing seen when viewing this Project +Gutenberg file. Please do not remove it. Do not change or edit the +header without written permission. + +Please read the "legal small print," and other information about the +eBook and Project Gutenberg at the bottom of this file. Included is +important information about your specific rights and restrictions in +how the file may be used. You can also find out about how to make a +donation to Project Gutenberg, and how to get involved. + + +**Welcome To The World of Free Plain Vanilla Electronic Texts** + +**EBooks Readable By Both Humans and By Computers, Since 1971** + +*****These EBooks Were Prepared By Thousands of Volunteers***** + + +Title: The First Series Plays, Complete + +Author: John Galsworthy + +Release Date: February, 2004 [EBook #5055] +[Yes, we are more than one year ahead of schedule] +[This file was first posted on April 11, 2002] + +Edition: 10 + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ASCII + + + + + +*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE FIRST SERIES PLAYS BY GALSWORTHY *** + + +This eBook was produced by David Widger <widger@cecomet.net> + + + + + +THE FIRST SERIES PLAYS, Complete + +By John Galsworthy + +Contents: + The Silver Box + Joy + Strife + + + + +THE SILVER BOX + +A COMEDY IN THREE ACTS + +By John Galsworthy + + + + +PERSONS OF THE PLAY + +JOHN BARTHWICK, M.P., a wealthy Liberal +MRS. BARTHWICK, his wife +JACK BARTHWICK, their son +ROPER, their solicitor +MRS. JONES, their charwoman +MARLOW, their manservant +WHEELER, their maidservant +JONES, the stranger within their gates +MRS. SEDDON, a landlady +SNOW, a detective +A POLICE MAGISTRATE +AN UNKNOWN LADY, from beyond +TWO LITTLE GIRLS, homeless +LIVENS, their father +A RELIEVING OFFICER +A MAGISTRATE'S CLERK +AN USHER +POLICEMEN, CLERKS, AND OTHERS + + +TIME: The present. The action of the first two Acts takes place on +Easter Tuesday; the action of the third on Easter Wednesday week. + + +ACT I. + SCENE I. Rockingham Gate. John Barthwick's dining-room. + SCENE II. The same. + SCENE III. The same. + +ACT II. + SCENE I. The Jones's lodgings, Merthyr Street. + SCENE II. John Barthwick's dining-room. + +ACT III. A London police court. + + + + +ACT I + +SCENE I + + The curtain rises on the BARTHWICK'S dining-room, large, + modern, and well furnished; the window curtains drawn. + Electric light is burning. On the large round dining-table is + set out a tray with whisky, a syphon, and a silver + cigarette-box. It is past midnight. + + A fumbling is heard outside the door. It is opened suddenly; + JACK BARTHWICK seems to fall into the room. He stands holding + by the door knob, staring before him, with a beatific smile. + He is in evening dress and opera hat, and carries in his hand a + sky-blue velvet lady's reticule. His boyish face is freshly + coloured and clean-shaven. An overcoat is hanging on his arm. + + +JACK. Hello! I've got home all ri----[Defiantly.] Who says I sh +'d never 've opened th' door without 'sistance. [He staggers in, +fumbling with the reticule. A lady's handkerchief and purse of +crimson silk fall out.] Serve her joll' well right--everything +droppin' out. Th' cat. I 've scored her off--I 've got her bag. +[He swings the reticule.] Serves her joly' well right. [He takes a +cigarette out of the silver box and puts it in his mouth.] Never +gave tha' fellow anything! [He hunts through all his pockets and +pulls a shilling out; it drops and rolls away. He looks for it.] +Beastly shilling! [He looks again.] Base ingratitude! Absolutely +nothing. [He laughs.] Mus' tell him I've got absolutely nothing. + + [He lurches through the door and down a corridor, and presently + returns, followed by JONES, who is advanced in liquor. JONES, + about thirty years of age, has hollow cheeks, black circles + round his eyes, and rusty clothes: He looks as though he might + be unemployed, and enters in a hang-dog manner.] + +JACK. Sh! sh! sh! Don't you make a noise, whatever you do. Shu' +the door, an' have a drink. [Very solemnly.] You helped me to open +the door--I 've got nothin, for you. This is my house. My father's +name's Barthwick; he's Member of Parliament--Liberal Member of +Parliament: I've told you that before. Have a drink! [He pours out +whisky and drinks it up.] I'm not drunk [Subsiding on a sofa.] +Tha's all right. Wha's your name? My name's Barthwick, so's my +father's; I'm a Liberal too--wha're you? + +JONES. [In a thick, sardonic voice.] I'm a bloomin' Conservative. +My name's Jones! My wife works 'ere; she's the char; she works +'ere. + +JACK. Jones? [He laughs.] There's 'nother Jones at College with +me. I'm not a Socialist myself; I'm a Liberal--there's ve--lill +difference, because of the principles of the Lib--Liberal Party. +We're all equal before the law--tha's rot, tha's silly. [Laughs.] +Wha' was I about to say? Give me some whisky. + + [JONES gives him the whisky he desires, together with a squirt + of syphon.] + +Wha' I was goin' tell you was--I 've had a row with her. [He waves +the reticule.] Have a drink, Jonessh 'd never have got in without +you--tha 's why I 'm giving you a drink. Don' care who knows I've +scored her off. Th' cat! [He throws his feet up on the sofa.] +Don' you make a noise, whatever you do. You pour out a drink--you +make yourself good long, long drink--you take cigarette--you take +anything you like. Sh'd never have got in without you. [Closing +his eyes.] You're a Tory--you're a Tory Socialist. I'm Liberal +myself--have a drink--I 'm an excel'nt chap. + + [His head drops back. He, smiling, falls asleep, and JONES + stands looking at him; then, snatching up JACK's glass, he + drinks it off. He picks the reticule from off JACK'S + shirt-front, holds it to the light, and smells at it.] + +JONES. Been on the tiles and brought 'ome some of yer cat's fur. +[He stuffs it into JACK's breast pocket.] + +JACK. [Murmuring.] I 've scored you off! You cat! + + [JONES looks around him furtively; he pours out whisky and + drinks it. From the silver box he takes a cigarette, puffs at + it, and drinks more whisky. There is no sobriety left in him.] + +JONES. Fat lot o' things they've got 'ere! [He sees the crimson +purse lying on the floor.] More cat's fur. Puss, puss! [He +fingers it, drops it on the tray, and looks at JACK.] Calf! Fat +calf! [He sees his own presentment in a mirror. Lifting his hands, +with fingers spread, he stares at it; then looks again at JACK, +clenching his fist as if to batter in his sleeping, smiling face. +Suddenly he tilts the rest o f the whisky into the glass and drinks +it. With cunning glee he takes the silver box and purse and pockets +them.] I 'll score you off too, that 's wot I 'll do! + + [He gives a little snarling laugh and lurches to the door. His + shoulder rubs against the switch; the light goes out. There is + a sound as of a closing outer door.] + + + The curtain falls. + + + + +The curtain rises again at once. + +SCENE II + + In the BARTHWICK'S dining-room. JACK is still asleep; the + morning light is coming through the curtains. The time is + half-past eight. WHEELER, brisk person enters with a dust-pan, + and MRS. JONES more slowly with a scuttle. + +WHEELER. [Drawing the curtains.] That precious husband of yours +was round for you after you'd gone yesterday, Mrs. Jones. Wanted +your money for drink, I suppose. He hangs about the corner here +half the time. I saw him outside the "Goat and Bells" when I went +to the post last night. If I were you I would n't live with him. I +would n't live with a man that raised his hand to me. I wouldn't +put up with it. Why don't you take your children and leave him? If +you put up with 'im it'll only make him worse. I never can see why, +because a man's married you, he should knock you about. + +MRS. JONES. [Slim, dark-eyed, and dark-haired; oval-faced, and with +a smooth, soft, even voice; her manner patient, her way of talking +quite impersonal; she wears a blue linen dress, and boots with +holes.] It was nearly two last night before he come home, and he +wasn't himself. He made me get up, and he knocked me about; he +didn't seem to know what he was saying or doing. Of course I would +leave him, but I'm really afraid of what he'd do to me. He 's such +a violent man when he's not himself. + +WHEELER. Why don't you get him locked up? You'll never have any +peace until you get him locked up. If I were you I'd go to the +police court tomorrow. That's what I would do. + +MRS. JONES. Of course I ought to go, because he does treat me so +badly when he's not himself. But you see, Bettina, he has a very +hard time--he 's been out of work two months, and it preys upon his +mind. When he's in work he behaves himself much better. It's when +he's out of work that he's so violent. + +WHEELER. Well, if you won't take any steps you 'll never get rid of +him. + +MRS. JONES. Of course it's very wearing to me; I don't get my sleep +at nights. And it 's not as if I were getting help from him, +because I have to do for the children and all of us. And he throws +such dreadful things up at me, talks of my having men to follow me +about. Such a thing never happens; no man ever speaks to me. And +of course, it's just the other way. It's what he does that's wrong +and makes me so unhappy. And then he 's always threatenin' to cut +my throat if I leave him. It's all the drink, and things preying on +his mind; he 's not a bad man really. Sometimes he'll speak quite +kind to me, but I've stood so much from him, I don't feel it in me +to speak kind back, but just keep myself to myself. And he's all +right with the children too, except when he's not himself. + +WHEELER. You mean when he's drunk, the beauty. + +MRS. JONES. Yes. [Without change of voice] There's the young +gentleman asleep on the sofa. + + [They both look silently at Jack.] + +MRS. JONES. [At last, in her soft voice.] He does n't look quite +himself. + +WHEELER. He's a young limb, that's what he is. It 's my belief he +was tipsy last night, like your husband. It 's another kind of +bein' out of work that sets him to drink. I 'll go and tell Marlow. +This is his job. + + [She goes.] + + [Mrs. Jones, upon her knees, begins a gentle sweeping.] + +JACK. [Waking.] Who's there? What is it? + +MRS. JONES. It's me, sir, Mrs. Jones. + +JACK. [Sitting up and looking round.] Where is it--what--what time +is it? + +MRS. JONES. It's getting on for nine o'clock, sir. + +JACK. For nine! Why--what! [Rising, and loosening his tongue; +putting hands to his head, and staring hard at Mrs. Jones.] Look +here, you, Mrs.----Mrs. Jones--don't you say you caught me asleep +here. + +MRS. JONES. No, sir, of course I won't sir. + +JACK. It's quite an accident; I don't know how it happened. I must +have forgotten to go to bed. It's a queer thing. I 've got a most +beastly headache. Mind you don't say anything, Mrs. Jones. + + [Goes out and passes MARLOW in the doorway. MARLOW is young + and quiet; he is cleanshaven, and his hair is brushed high from + his forehead in a coxcomb. Incidentally a butler, he is first + a man. He looks at MRS. JONES, and smiles a private smile.] + +MARLOW. Not the first time, and won't be the last. Looked a bit +dicky, eh, Mrs. Jones? + +MRS. JONES. He did n't look quite himself. Of course I did n't +take notice. + +MARLOW. You're used to them. How's your old man? + +MRS. JONES. [Softly as throughout.] Well, he was very bad last +night; he did n't seem to know what he was about. He was very late, +and he was most abusive. But now, of course, he's asleep. + +MARLOW. That's his way of finding a job, eh? + +MRS. JONES. As a rule, Mr. Marlow, he goes out early every morning +looking for work, and sometimes he comes in fit to drop--and of +course I can't say he does n't try to get it, because he does. +Trade's very bad. [She stands quite still, her fan and brush before +her, at the beginning and the end of long vistas of experience, +traversing them with her impersonal eye.] But he's not a good +husband to me--last night he hit me, and he was so dreadfully +abusive. + +MARLOW. Bank 'oliday, eh! He 's too fond of the "Goat and Bells," +that's what's the matter with him. I see him at the corner late +every night. He hangs about. + +MRS. JONES. He gets to feeling very low walking about all day after +work, and being refused so often, and then when he gets a drop in +him it goes to his head. But he shouldn't treat his wife as he +treats me. Sometimes I 've had to go and walk about at night, when +he wouldn't let me stay in the room; but he's sorry for it +afterwards. And he hangs about after me, he waits for me in the +street; and I don't think he ought to, because I 've always been a +good wife to him. And I tell him Mrs. Barthwick wouldn't like him +coming about the place. But that only makes him angry, and he says +dreadful things about the gentry. Of course it was through me that +he first lost his place, through his not treating me right; and +that's made him bitter against the gentry. He had a very good place +as groom in the country; but it made such a stir, because of course +he did n't treat me right. + +MARLOW. Got the sack? + +MRS. JONES. Yes; his employer said he couldn't keep him, because +there was a great deal of talk; and he said it was such a bad +example. But it's very important for me to keep my work here; I +have the three children, and I don't want him to come about after me +in the streets, and make a disturbance as he sometimes does. + +MARLOW. [Holding up the empty decanter.] Not a drain! Next time +he hits you get a witness and go down to the court---- + +MRS. JONES. Yes, I think I 've made up my mind. I think I ought +to. + +MARLOW. That's right. Where's the ciga----? + + [He searches for the silver box; he looks at MRS. JONES, who is + sweeping on her hands and knees; he checks himself and stands + reflecting. From the tray he picks two half-smoked cigarettes, + and reads the name on them.] + +Nestor--where the deuce----? + + [With a meditative air he looks again at MRS. JONES, and, + taking up JACK'S overcoat, he searches in the pockets. + WHEELER, with a tray of breakfast things, comes in.] + +MARLOW. [Aside to WHEELER.] Have you seen the cigarette-box? + +WHEELER. No. + +MARLOW. Well, it's gone. I put it on the tray last night. And +he's been smoking. [Showing her the ends of cigarettes.] It's not +in these pockets. He can't have taken it upstairs this morning! +Have a good look in his room when he comes down. Who's been in +here? + +WHEELER. Only me and Mrs. Jones. + +MRS. JONES. I 've finished here; shall I do the drawing-room now? + +WHEELER. [Looking at her doubtfully.] Have you seen----Better do +the boudwower first. + + [MRS. JONES goes out with pan and brush. MARLOW and WHEELER + look each other in the face.] + +MARLOW. It'll turn up. + +WHEELER. [Hesitating.] You don't think she---- +[Nodding at the door.] + +MARLOW. [Stoutly.] I don't----I never believes anything of +anybody. + +WHEELER. But the master'll have to be told. + +MARLOW. You wait a bit, and see if it don't turn up. Suspicion's +no business of ours. I set my mind against it. + + + The curtain falls. + + + + + The curtain rises again at once. + + + +SCENE III + + BARTHWICK and MRS. BARTHWICK are seated at the breakfast table. + He is a man between fifty and sixty; quietly important, with a + bald forehead, and pince-nez, and the "Times" in his hand. She + is a lady of nearly fifty, well dressed, with greyish hair, + good features, and a decided manner. They face each other. + +BARTHWICK. [From behind his paper.] The Labour man has got in at +the by-election for Barnside, my dear. + +MRS. BARTHWICK. Another Labour? I can't think what on earth the +country is about. + +BARTHWICK. I predicted it. It's not a matter of vast importance. + +MRS. BARTHWICK. Not? How can you take it so calmly, John? To me +it's simply outrageous. And there you sit, you Liberals, and +pretend to encourage these people! + +BARTHWICK. [Frowning.] The representation of all parties is +necessary for any proper reform, for any proper social policy. + +MRS. BARTHWICK. I've no patience with your talk of reform--all that +nonsense about social policy. We know perfectly well what it is +they want; they want things for themselves. Those Socialists and +Labour men are an absolutely selfish set of people. They have no +sense of patriotism, like the upper classes; they simply want what +we've got. + +BARTHWICK. Want what we've got! [He stares into space.] My dear, +what are you talking about? [With a contortion.] I 'm no alarmist. + +MRS. BARTHWICK. Cream? Quite uneducated men! Wait until they +begin to tax our investments. I 'm convinced that when they once +get a chance they will tax everything--they 've no feeling for the +country. You Liberals and Conservatives, you 're all alike; you +don't see an inch before your noses. You've no imagination, not a +scrap of imagination between you. You ought to join hands and nip +it in the bud. + +BARTHWICK. You 're talking nonsense! How is it possible for +Liberals and Conservatives to join hands, as you call it? That +shows how absurd it is for women----Why, the very essence of a +Liberal is to trust in the people! + +MRS. BARTHWICK. Now, John, eat your breakfast. As if there were +any real difference between you and the Conservatives. All the +upper classes have the same interests to protect, and the same +principles. [Calmly.] Oh! you're sitting upon a volcano, John. + +BARTHWICK. What! + +MRS. BARTHWICK. I read a letter in the paper yesterday. I forget +the man's name, but it made the whole thing perfectly clear. You +don't look things in the face. + +BARTHWICK. Indeed! [Heavily.] I am a Liberal! Drop the subject, +please! + +MRS. BARTHWICK. Toast? I quite agree with what this man says: +Education is simply ruining the lower classes. It unsettles them, +and that's the worst thing for us all. I see an enormous difference +in the manner of servants. + +BARTHWICK, [With suspicious emphasis.] I welcome any change that +will lead to something better. [He opens a letter.] H'm! This is +that affair of Master Jack's again. "High Street, Oxford. Sir, We +have received Mr. John Barthwick, Senior's, draft for forty pounds!" +Oh! the letter's to him! "We now enclose the cheque you cashed with +us, which, as we stated in our previous letter, was not met on +presentation at your bank. We are, Sir, yours obediently, Moss and +Sons, Tailors." H 'm! [Staring at the cheque.] A pretty business +altogether! The boy might have been prosecuted. + +MRS. BARTHWICK. Come, John, you know Jack did n't mean anything; he +only thought he was overdrawing. I still think his bank ought to +have cashed that cheque. They must know your position. + +BARTHWICK. [Replacing in the envelope the letter and the cheque.] +Much good that would have done him in a court of law. + + [He stops as JACK comes in, fastening his waistcoat and + staunching a razor cut upon his chin.] + +JACK. [Sitting down between them, and speaking with an artificial +joviality.] Sorry I 'm late. [He looks lugubriously at the +dishes.] Tea, please, mother. Any letters for me? [BARTHWICK +hands the letter to him.] But look here, I say, this has been +opened! I do wish you would n't---- + +BARTHWICK. [Touching the envelope.] I suppose I 'm entitled to +this name. + +JACK. [Sulkily.] Well, I can't help having your name, father! [He +reads the letter, and mutters.] Brutes! + +BARTHWICK. [Eyeing him.] You don't deserve to be so well out of +that. + +JACK. Haven't you ragged me enough, dad? + +MRS. BARTHWICK. Yes, John, let Jack have his breakfast. + +BARTHWICK. If you hadn't had me to come to, where would you have +been? It's the merest accident--suppose you had been the son of a +poor man or a clerk. Obtaining money with a cheque you knew your +bank could not meet. It might have ruined you for life. I can't +see what's to become of you if these are your principles. I never +did anything of the sort myself. + +JACK. I expect you always had lots of money. If you've got plenty +of money, of course---- + +BARTHWICK. On the contrary, I had not your advantages. My father +kept me very short of money. + +JACK. How much had you, dad? + +BARTHWICK. It's not material. The question is, do you feel the +gravity of what you did? + +JACK. I don't know about the gravity. Of course, I 'm very sorry +if you think it was wrong. Have n't I said so! I should never have +done it at all if I had n't been so jolly hard up. + +BARTHWICK. How much of that forty pounds have you got left, Jack? + +JACK. [Hesitating.] I don't know--not much. + +BARTHWICK. How much? + +JACK. [Desperately.] I have n't got any. + +BARTHWICK. What? + +JACK. I know I 've got the most beastly headache. + + [He leans his head on his hand.] + +MRS. BARTHWICK. Headache? My dear boy! Can't you eat any +breakfast? + +JACK. [Drawing in his breath.] Too jolly bad! + +MRS. BARTHWICK. I'm so sorry. Come with me; dear; I'll give you +something that will take it away at once. + + [They leave the room; and BARTHWICK, tearing up the letter, + goes to the fireplace and puts the pieces in the fire. While + he is doing this MARLOW comes in, and looking round him, is + about quietly to withdraw.] + +BARTHWICK. What's that? What d 'you want? + +MARLOW. I was looking for Mr. John, sir. + +BARTHWICK. What d' you want Mr. John for? + +MARLOW. [With hesitation.] I thought I should find him here, sir. + +BARTHWICK. [Suspiciously.] Yes, but what do you want him for? + +MARLOW. [Offhandedly.] There's a lady called--asked to speak to +him for a minute, sir. + +BARTHWICK. A lady, at this time in the morning. What sort of a +lady? + +MARLOW. [Without expression in his voice.] I can't tell, sir; no +particular sort. She might be after charity. She might be a Sister +of Mercy, I should think, sir. + +BARTHWICK. Is she dressed like one? + +MARLOW. No, sir, she's in plain clothes, sir. + +BARTHWICK. Did n't she say what she wanted? + +MARLOW. No sir. + +BARTHWICK. Where did you leave her? + +MARLOW. In the hall, sir. + +BARTHWICK. In the hall? How do you know she's not a thief--not got +designs on the house? + +MARLOW. No, sir, I don't fancy so, sir. + +BARTHWICK. Well, show her in here; I'll see her myself. + + [MARLOW goes out with a private gesture of dismay. He soon + returns, ushering in a young pale lady with dark eyes and + pretty figure, in a modish, black, but rather shabby dress, a + black and white trimmed hat with a bunch of Parma violets + wrongly placed, and fuzzy-spotted veil. At the Sight of MR. + BARTHWICK she exhibits every sign of nervousness. MARLOW goes + out.] + +UNKNOWN LADY. Oh! but--I beg pardon there's some mistake--I [She +turns to fly.] + +BARTHWICK. Whom did you want to see, madam? + +UNKNOWN. [Stopping and looking back.] It was Mr. John Barthwick I +wanted to see. + +BARTHWICK. I am John Barthwick, madam. What can I have the +pleasure of doing for you? + +UNKNOWN. Oh! I--I don't [She drops her eyes. BARTHWICK +scrutinises her, and purses his lips.] + +BARTHWICK. It was my son, perhaps, you wished to see? + +UNKNOWN. [Quickly.] Yes, of course, it's your son. + +BARTHWICK. May I ask whom I have the pleasure of speaking to? + +UNKNOWN. [Appeal and hardiness upon her face.] My name is----oh! +it does n't matter--I don't want to make any fuss. I just want to +see your son for a minute. [Boldly.] In fact, I must see him. + +BARTHWICK. [Controlling his uneasiness.] My son is not very well. +If necessary, no doubt I could attend to the matter; be so kind as +to let me know---- + +UNKNOWN. Oh! but I must see him--I 've come on purpose--[She bursts +out nervously.] I don't want to make any fuss, but the fact is, +last--last night your son took away--he took away my [She stops.] + +BARTHWICK. [Severely.] Yes, madam, what? + +UNKNOWN. He took away my--my reticule. + +BARTHWICK. Your reti----? + +UNKNOWN. I don't care about the reticule; it's not that I want--I +'m sure I don't want to make any fuss--[her face is quivering]--but- +-but--all my money was in it! + +BARTHWICK. In what--in what? + +UNKNOWN. In my purse, in the reticule. It was a crimson silk +purse. Really, I wouldn't have come--I don't want to make any fuss. +But I must get my money back--mustn't I? + +BARTHWICK. Do you tell me that my son----? + +UNKNOWN. Oh! well, you see, he was n't quite I mean he was + + [She smiles mesmerically.] + +BARTHWICK. I beg your pardon. + +UNKNOWN. [Stamping her foot.] Oh! don't you see--tipsy! We had a +quarrel. + +BARTHWICK. [Scandalised.] How? Where? + +UNKNOWN. [Defiantly.] At my place. We'd had supper at the----and +your son---- + +BARTHWICK. [Pressing the bell.] May I ask how you knew this house? +Did he give you his name and address? + +UNKNOWN. [Glancing sidelong.] I got it out of his overcoat. + +BARTHWICK. [Sardonically.] Oh! you got it out of his overcoat. +And may I ask if my son will know you by daylight? + +UNKNOWN. Know me? I should jolly--I mean, of course he will! + [MARLOW comes in.] + +BARTHWICK. Ask Mr. John to come down. + + [MARLOW goes out, and BARTHWICK walks uneasily about.] + +And how long have you enjoyed his acquaintanceship? + +UNKNOWN. Only since--only since Good Friday. + +BARTHWICK. I am at a loss--I repeat I am at a---- + + [He glances at this unknown lady, who stands with eyes cast + down, twisting her hands And suddenly Jack appears. He stops + on seeing who is here, and the unknown lady hysterically + giggles. There is a silence.] + +BARTHWICK. [Portentously.] This young--er--lady says that last +night--I think you said last night madam--you took away---- + +UNKNOWN. [Impulsively.] My reticule, and all my money was in a +crimson silk purse. + +JACK. Reticule. [Looking round for any chance to get away.] I +don't know anything about it. + +BARTHWICK. [Sharply.] Come, do you deny seeing this young lady +last night? + +JACK. Deny? No, of course. [Whispering.] Why did you give me +away like this? What on earth did you come here for? + +UNKNOWN. [Tearfully.] I'm sure I didn't want to--it's not likely, +is it? You snatched it out of my hand--you know you did--and the +purse had all my money in it. I did n't follow you last night +because I did n't want to make a fuss and it was so late, and you +were so---- + +BARTHWICK. Come, sir, don't turn your back on me--explain! + +JACK. [Desperately.] I don't remember anything about it. [In a +low voice to his friend.] Why on earth could n't you have written? + +UNKNOWN. [Sullenly.] I want it now; I must have, it--I 've got to +pay my rent to-day. [She looks at BARTHWICK.] They're only too glad +to jump on people who are not--not well off. + +JACK. I don't remember anything about it, really. I don't remember +anything about last night at all. [He puts his hand up to his +head.] It's all--cloudy, and I 've got such a beastly headache. + +UNKNOWN. But you took it; you know you did. You said you'd score +me off. + +JACK. Well, then, it must be here. I remember now--I remember +something. Why did I take the beastly thing? + +BARTHWICK. Yes, why did you take the beastly----[He turns abruptly +to the window.] + +UNKNOWN. [With her mesmeric smile.] You were n't quite were you? + +JACK. [Smiling pallidly.] I'm awfully sorry. If there's anything +I can do---- + +BARTHWICK. Do? You can restore this property, I suppose. + +JACK. I'll go and have a look, but I really don't think I 've got +it. + + [He goes out hurriedly. And BARTHWICK, placing a chair, + motions to the visitor to sit; then, with pursed lips, he + stands and eyes her fixedly. She sits, and steals a look at + him; then turns away, and, drawing up her veil, stealthily + wipes her eyes. And Jack comes back.] + +JACK. [Ruefully holding out the empty reticule.] Is that the +thing? I 've looked all over--I can't find the purse anywhere. Are +you sure it was there? + +UNKNOWN. [Tearfully.] Sure? Of course I'm sure. A crimson silk +purse. It was all the money I had. + +JACK. I really am awfully sorry--my head's so jolly bad. I 've +asked the butler, but he has n't seen it. + +UNKNOWN. I must have my money---- + +JACK. Oh! Of course--that'll be all right; I'll see that that's +all right. How much? + +UNKNOWN. [Sullenly.] Seven pounds-twelve--it's all I 've got in +the world. + +JACK. That'll be all right; I'll--send you acheque. + +UNKNOWN. [Eagerly.] No; now, please. Give me what was in my +purse; I've got to pay my rent this morning. They won't' give me +another day; I'm a fortnight behind already. + +JACK. [Blankly.] I'm awfully sorry; I really have n't a penny in +my pocket. + + [He glances stealthily at BARTHWICK.] + +UNKNOWN. [Excitedly.] Come I say you must--it's my money, and you +took it. I 'm not going away without it. They 'll turn me out of +my place. + +JACK. [Clasping his head.] But I can't give you what I have n't +got. Don't I tell you I have n't a beastly cent. + +UNKNOWN. [Tearing at her handkerchief.] Oh! do give it me! [She +puts her hands together in appeal; then, with sudden fierceness.] +If you don't I'll summons you. It's stealing, that's what it is! + +BARTHWICK. [Uneasily.] One moment, please. As a matter of---er- +principle, I shall settle this claim. [He produces money.] Here is +eight pounds; the extra will cover the value of the purse and your +cab fares. I need make no comment--no thanks are necessary. + + [Touching the bell, he holds the door ajar in silence. The + unknown lady stores the money in her reticule, she looks from + JACK to BARTHWICK, and her face is quivering faintly with a + smile. She hides it with her hand, and steals away. Behind + her BARTHWICK shuts the door.] + +BARTHWICK. [With solemnity.] H'm! This is nice thing to happen! + +JACK. [Impersonally.] What awful luck! + +BARTHWICK. So this is the way that forty pounds has gone! One +thing after another! Once more I should like to know where you 'd +have been if it had n't been for me! You don't seem to have any +principles. You--you're one of those who are a nuisance to society; +you--you're dangerous! What your mother would say I don't know. +Your conduct, as far as I can see, is absolutely unjustifiable. +It's--it's criminal. Why, a poor man who behaved as you've done---- +d' you think he'd have any mercy shown him? What you want is a good +lesson. You and your sort are--[he speaks with feeling]--a nuisance +to the community. Don't ask me to help you next time. You're not +fit to be helped. + +JACK. [Turning upon his sire, with unexpected fierceness.] All +right, I won't then, and see how you like it. You would n't have +helped me this time, I know, if you had n't been scared the thing +would get into the papers. Where are the cigarettes? + +BARTHWICK. [Regarding him uneasily.] Well I 'll say no more about +it. [He rings the bell.] I 'll pass it over for this once, but---- +[MARLOW Comes in.] You can clear away. + + [He hides his face behind the "Times."] + +JACK. [Brightening.] I say, Marlow, where are the cigarettes? + +MARLOW. I put the box out with the whisky last night, sir, but this +morning I can't find it anywhere. + +JACK. Did you look in my room? + +MARLOW. Yes, sir; I've looked all over the house. I found two +Nestor ends in the tray this morning, so you must have been smokin' +last night, sir. [Hesitating.] I 'm really afraid some one's +purloined the box. + +JACK. [Uneasily.] Stolen it! + +BARTHWICK. What's that? The cigarette-box! Is anything else +missing? + +MARLOW. No, sir; I 've been through the plate. + +BARTHWICK. Was the house all right this morning? None of the +windows open? + +MARLOW. No, sir. [Quietly to JACK.] You left your latch-key in +the door last night, sir. + + [He hands it back, unseen by BARTHWICK] + +JACK. Tst! + +BARTHWICK. Who's been in the room this morning? + +MARLOW. Me and Wheeler, and Mrs. Jones is all, sir, as far as I +know. + +BARTHWICK. Have you asked Mrs. Barthwick? + +[To JACK.] Go and ask your mother if she's had it; ask her to look +and see if she's missed anything else. + + [JACK goes upon this mission.] + +Nothing is more disquieting than losing things like this. + +MARLOW. No, sir. + +BARTHWICK. Have you any suspicions? + +MARLOW, No, sir. + +BARTHWICK. This Mrs. Jones--how long has she been working here? + +MARLOW. Only this last month, sir. + +BARTHWICK. What sort of person? + +MARLOW. I don't know much about her, sir; seems a very quiet, +respectable woman. + +BARTHWICK. Who did the room this morning? + +MARLOW. Wheeler and Mrs. Jones, Sir. + +BARTHWICK. [With his forefinger upraised.] Now, was this Mrs. +Jones in the room alone at any time? + +MARLOW. [Expressionless.] Yes, Sir. + +BARTHWICK. How do you know that? + +MARLOW. [Reluctantly.] I found her here, sir. + +BARTHWICK. And has Wheeler been in the room alone? + +MARLOW. No, sir, she's not, sir. I should say, sir, that Mrs. +Jones seems a very honest---- + +BARTHWICK. [Holding up his hand.] I want to know this: Has this +Mrs. Jones been here the whole morning? + +MARLOW. Yes, sir--no, sir--she stepped over to the greengrocer's +for cook. + +BARTHWICK. H'm! Is she in the house now? + +MARLOW. Yes, Sir. + +BARTHWICK. Very good. I shall make a point of clearing this up. +On principle I shall make a point of fixing the responsibility; it +goes to the foundations of security. In all your interests---- + +MARLOW. Yes, Sir. + +BARTHWICK. What sort of circumstances is this Mrs. Jones in? Is +her husband in work? + +MARLOW. I believe not, sir. + +BARTHWICK. Very well. Say nothing about it to any one. Tell +Wheeler not to speak of it, and ask Mrs. Jones to step up here. + +MARLOW. Very good, sir. + + [MARLOW goes out, his face concerned; and BARTHWICK stays, his + face judicial and a little pleased, as befits a man conducting + an inquiry. MRS. BARTHWICK and hey son come in.] + +BARTHWICK. Well, my dear, you've not seen it, I suppose? + +MRS. BARTHWICK. No. But what an extraordinary thing, John! +Marlow, of course, is out of the question. I 'm certain none of the +maids as for cook! + +BARTHWICK. Oh, cook! + +MRS. BARTHWICK. Of course! It's perfectly detestable to me to +suspect anybody. + +BARTHWICK. It is not a question of one's feelings. It's a question +of justice. On principle---- + +MRS. BARTHWICK. I should n't be a bit surprised if the charwoman +knew something about it. It was Laura who recommended her. + +BARTHWICK. [Judicially.] I am going to have Mrs. Jones up. Leave +it to me; and--er--remember that nobody is guilty until they're +proved so. I shall be careful. I have no intention of frightening +her; I shall give her every chance. I hear she's in poor +circumstances. If we are not able to do much for them we are bound +to have the greatest sympathy with the poor. [MRS. JONES comes in.] +[Pleasantly.] Oh! good morning, Mrs. Jones. + +MRS. JONES. [Soft, and even, unemphatic.] Good morning, sir! Good +morning, ma'am! + +BARTHWICK. About your husband--he's not in work, I hear? + +MRS. JONES. No, sir; of course he's not in work just now. + +BARTHWICK. Then I suppose he's earning nothing. + +MRS. JONES. No, sir, he's not earning anything just now, sir. + +BARTHWICK. And how many children have you? + +MRS. JONES. Three children; but of course they don't eat very much +sir. [A little silence.] + +BARTHWICK. And how old is the eldest? + +MRS. JONES. Nine years old, sir. + +BARTHWICK. Do they go to school? + +MRS. JONES, Yes, sir, they all three go to school every day. + +BARTHWICK. [Severely.] And what about their food when you're out +at work? + +MRS. JONES. Well, Sir, I have to give them their dinner to take +with them. Of course I 'm not always able to give them anything; +sometimes I have to send them without; but my husband is very good +about the children when he's in work. But when he's not in work of +course he's a very difficult man. + +BARTHWICK. He drinks, I suppose? + +MRS. JONES. Yes, Sir. Of course I can't say he does n't drink, +because he does. + +BARTHWICK. And I suppose he takes all your money? + +MRS. JONES. No, sir, he's very good about my money, except when +he's not himself, and then, of course, he treats me very badly. + +BARTHWICK. Now what is he--your husband? + +MRS. JONES. By profession, sir, of course he's a groom. + +BARTHWICK. A groom! How came he to lose his place? + +MRS. JONES. He lost his place a long time ago, sir, and he's never +had a very long job since; and now, of course, the motor-cars are +against him. + +BARTHWICK. When were you married to him, Mrs. Jones? + +MRS. JONES. Eight years ago, sir that was in---- + +MRS. BARTHWICK. [Sharply.] Eight? You said the eldest child was +nine. + +MRS. JONES. Yes, ma'am; of course that was why he lost his place. +He did n't treat me rightly, and of course his employer said he +couldn't keep him because of the example. + +BARTHWICK. You mean he--ahem---- + +MRS. JONES. Yes, sir; and of course after he lost his place he +married me. + +MRS. BARTHWICK. You actually mean to say you--you were---- + +BARTHWICK. My dear---- + +MRS. BARTHWICK. [Indignantly.] How disgraceful! + +BARTHWICK. [Hurriedly.] And where are you living now, Mrs. Jones? + +MRS. JONES. We've not got a home, sir. Of course we've been +obliged to put away most of our things. + +BARTHWICK. Put your things away! You mean to--to--er--to pawn +them? + +MRS. JONES. Yes, sir, to put them away. We're living in Merthyr +Street--that is close by here, sir--at No. 34. We just have the one +room. + +BARTHWICK. And what do you pay a week? + +MRS. JONES. We pay six shillings a week, sir, for a furnished room. + +BARTHWICK. And I suppose you're behind in the rent? + +MRS. JONES. Yes, sir, we're a little behind in the rent. + +BARTHWICK. But you're in good work, aren't you? + +MRS. JONES. Well, Sir, I have a day in Stamford Place Thursdays. +And Mondays and Wednesdays and Fridays I come here. But to-day, of +course, is a half-day, because of yesterday's Bank Holiday. + +BARTHWICK. I see; four days a week, and you get half a crown a day, +is that it? + +MRS. JONES. Yes, sir, and my dinner; but sometimes it's only half +a day, and that's eighteen pence. + +BARTHWICK. And when your husband earns anything he spends it in +drink, I suppose? + +MRS. JONES. Sometimes he does, sir, and sometimes he gives it to me +for the children. Of course he would work if he could get it, sir, +but it seems there are a great many people out of work. + +BARTHWICK. Ah! Yes. We--er--won't go into that. +[Sympathetically.] And how about your work here? Do you find it +hard? + +MRS. JONES. Oh! no, sir, not very hard, sir; except of course, +when I don't get my sleep at night. + +BARTHWICK. Ah! And you help do all the rooms? And sometimes, I +suppose, you go out for cook? + +MRS. JONES. Yes, Sir. + +BARTHWICK. And you 've been out this morning? + +MRS. JONES. Yes, sir, of course I had to go to the greengrocer's. + +BARTHWICK. Exactly. So your husband earns nothing? And he's a bad +character. + +MRS. JONES. No, Sir, I don't say that, sir. I think there's a +great deal of good in him; though he does treat me very bad +sometimes. And of course I don't like to leave him, but I think I +ought to, because really I hardly know how to stay with him. He +often raises his hand to me. Not long ago he gave me a blow here +[touches her breast] and I can feel it now. So I think I ought to +leave him, don't you, sir? + +BARTHWICK. Ah! I can't help you there. It's a very serious thing +to leave your husband. Very serious thing. + +MRS. JONES. Yes, sir, of course I 'm afraid of what he might do to +me if I were to leave him; he can be so very violent. + +BARTHWICK. H'm! Well, that I can't pretend to say anything about. +It's the bad principle I'm speaking of---- + +MRS. JONES. Yes, Sir; I know nobody can help me. I know I must +decide for myself, and of course I know that he has a very hard +life. And he's fond of the children, and its very hard for him to +see them going without food. + +BARTHWICK. [Hastily.] Well--er--thank you, I just wanted to hear +about you. I don't think I need detain you any longer, Mrs. Jones. + +MRS. JONES. No, sir, thank you, sir. + +BARTHWICK. Good morning, then. + +MRS. JONES. Good morning, sir; good morning, ma'am. + +BARTHWICK. [Exchanging glances with his wife.] By the way, Mrs. +Jones--I think it is only fair to tell you, a silver cigarette-box +--er--is missing. + +MRS. JONES. [Looking from one face to the other.] I am very sorry, +sir. + +BARTHWICK. Yes; you have not seen it, I suppose? + +MRS. JONES. [Realising that suspicion is upon her; with an uneasy +movement.] Where was it, sir; if you please, sir? + +BARTHWICK. [Evasively.] Where did Marlow say? Er--in this room, +yes, in this room. + +MRS. JONES. No, Sir, I have n't seen it--of course if I 'd seen it +I should have noticed it. + +BARTHWICK. [Giving hey a rapid glance.] You--you are sure of that? + +MRS. JONES. [Impassively.] Yes, Sir. [With a slow nodding of her +head.] I have not seen it, and of course I don't know where it is. + + [She turns and goes quietly out.] + +BARTHWICK. H'm! + + [The three BARTHWICKS avoid each other's glances.] + + + The curtain falls. + + + + +ACT II + +SCENE I + + The JONES's lodgings, Merthyr Street, at half-past two o'clock. + + The bare room, with tattered oilcloth and damp, distempered + walls, has an air of tidy wretchedness. On the bed lies JONES, + half-dressed; his coat is thrown across his feet, and muddy + boots are lying on the floor close by. He is asleep. The door + is opened and MRS. JONES comes in, dressed in a pinched black + jacket and old black sailor hat; she carries a parcel wrapped + up in the "Times." She puts her parcel down, unwraps an apron, + half a loaf, two onions, three potatoes, and a tiny piece of + bacon. Taking a teapot from the cupboard, she rinses it, + shakes into it some powdered tea out of a screw of paper, puts + it on the hearth, and sitting in a wooden chair quietly begins + to cry. + +JONES. [Stirring and yawning.] That you? What's the time? + +MRS. JONES. [Drying her eyes, and in her usual voice.] Half-past +two. + +JONES. What you back so soon for? + +MRS. JONES. I only had the half day to-day, Jem. + +JONES. [On his back, and in a drowsy voice.] Got anything for +dinner? + +MRS. JONES. Mrs. BARTHWICK's cook gave me a little bit of bacon. +I'm going to make a stew. [She prepares for cooking.] There's +fourteen shillings owing for rent, James, and of course I 've only +got two and fourpence. They'll be coming for it to-day. + +JONES. [Turning towards her on his elbow.] Let 'em come and find +my surprise packet. I've had enough o' this tryin' for work. Why +should I go round and round after a job like a bloomin' squirrel in +a cage. "Give us a job, sir"--"Take a man on"--"Got a wife and +three children." Sick of it I am! I 'd sooner lie here and rot. +"Jones, you come and join the demonstration; come and 'old a flag, +and listen to the ruddy orators, and go 'ome as empty as you came." +There's some that seems to like that--the sheep! When I go seekin' +for a job now, and see the brutes lookin' me up an' down, it's like +a thousand serpents in me. I 'm not arskin' for any treat. A man +wants to sweat hisself silly and not allowed that's a rum start, +ain't it? A man wants to sweat his soul out to keep the breath in +him and ain't allowed--that's justice that's freedom and all the +rest of it! [He turns his face towards the wall.] You're so milky +mild; you don't know what goes on inside o' me. I'm done with the +silly game. If they want me, let 'em come for me! + + [MRS. JONES stops cooking and stands unmoving at the table.] + +I've tried and done with it, I tell you. I've never been afraid of +what 's before me. You mark my words--if you think they've broke my +spirit, you're mistook. I 'll lie and rot sooner than arsk 'em +again. What makes you stand like that--you long-sufferin', Gawd- +forsaken image--that's why I can't keep my hands off you. So now +you know. Work! You can work, but you have n't the spirit of a +louse! + +MRS. JONES. [Quietly.] You talk more wild sometimes when you're +yourself, James, than when you 're not. If you don't get work, how +are we to go on? They won't let us stay here; they're looking to +their money to-day, I know. + +JONES. I see this BARTHWICK o' yours every day goin' down to +Pawlyment snug and comfortable to talk his silly soul out; an' I see +that young calf, his son, swellin' it about, and goin' on the +razzle-dazzle. Wot 'ave they done that makes 'em any better than +wot I am? They never did a day's work in their lives. I see 'em +day after day. + +MRS. JONES. And I wish you wouldn't come after me like that, and +hang about the house. You don't seem able to keep away at all, and +whatever you do it for I can't think, because of course they notice +it. + +JONES. I suppose I may go where I like. Where may I go? The other +day I went to a place in the Edgware Road. "Gov'nor," I says to the +boss, "take me on," I says. "I 'aven't done a stroke o' work not +these two months; it takes the heart out of a man," I says; "I 'm +one to work; I 'm not afraid of anything you can give me!" "My good +man," 'e says, "I 've had thirty of you here this morning. I took +the first two," he says, "and that's all I want." "Thank you, then +rot the world!" I says. "Blasphemin'," he says, "is not the way to +get a job. Out you go, my lad!" [He laughs sardonically.] Don't +you raise your voice because you're starvin'; don't yer even think +of it; take it lyin' down! Take it like a sensible man, carn't you? +And a little way down the street a lady says to me: [Pinching his +voice] "D' you want to earn a few pence, my man?" and gives me her +dog to 'old outside a shop-fat as a butler 'e was--tons o' meat had +gone to the makin' of him. It did 'er good, it did, made 'er feel +'erself that charitable, but I see 'er lookin' at the copper +standin' alongside o' me, for fear I should make off with 'er +bloomin' fat dog. [He sits on the edge of the bed and puts a boot +on. Then looking up.] What's in that head o' yours? [Almost +pathetically.] Carn't you speak for once? + + [There is a knock, and MRS. SEDDON, the landlady, appears, an + anxious, harassed, shabby woman in working clothes.] + +MRS. SEDDON. I thought I 'eard you come in, Mrs. Jones. I 've +spoke to my 'usband, but he says he really can't afford to wait +another day. + +JONES. [With scowling jocularity.] Never you mind what your +'usband says, you go your own way like a proper independent woman. +Here, jenny, chuck her that. + + [Producing a sovereign from his trousers pocket, he throws it + to his wife, who catches it in her apron with a gasp. JONES + resumes the lacing of his boots.] + +MRS. JONES. [Rubbing the sovereign stealthily.] I'm very sorry +we're so late with it, and of course it's fourteen shillings, so if +you've got six that will be right. + + [MRS. SEDDON takes the sovereign and fumbles for the change.] + +JONES. [With his eyes fixed on his boots.] Bit of a surprise for +yer, ain't it? + +MRS. SEDDON. Thank you, and I'm sure I'm very much obliged. [She +does indeed appear surprised.] I 'll bring you the change. + +JONES. [Mockingly.] Don't mention it. + +MRS. SEDDON. Thank you, and I'm sure I'm very much obliged. [She +slides away.] + + [MRS. JONES gazes at JONES who is still lacing up his boots.] + +JONES. I 've had a bit of luck. [Pulling out the crimson purse and +some loose coins.] Picked up a purse--seven pound and more. + +MRS. JONES. Oh, James! + +JONES. Oh, James! What about Oh, James! I picked it up I tell +you. This is lost property, this is! + +MRS. JONES. But is n't there a name in it, or something? + +JONES. Name? No, there ain't no name. This don't belong to such +as 'ave visitin' cards. This belongs to a perfec' lidy. Tike an' +smell it. [He pitches her the purse, which she puts gently to her +nose.] Now, you tell me what I ought to have done. You tell me +that. You can always tell me what I ought to ha' done, can't yer? + +MRS. JONES. [Laying down the purse.] I can't say what you ought to +have done, James. Of course the money was n't yours; you've taken +somebody else's money. + +JONES. Finding's keeping. I 'll take it as wages for the time I +'ve gone about the streets asking for what's my rights. I'll take +it for what's overdue, d' ye hear? [With strange triumph.] I've +got money in my pocket, my girl. + + [MRS. JONES goes on again with the preparation of the meal, + JONES looking at her furtively.] + +Money in my pocket! And I 'm not goin' to waste it. With this 'ere +money I'm goin' to Canada. I'll let you have a pound. + + [A silence.] + +You've often talked of leavin' me. You 've often told me I treat +you badly--well I 'ope you 'll be glad when I 'm gone. + +MRS. JONES. [Impassively.] You have, treated me very badly, James, +and of course I can't prevent your going; but I can't tell whether I +shall be glad when you're gone. + +JONES. It'll change my luck. I 've 'ad nothing but bad luck since +I first took up with you. [More softly.] And you've 'ad no +bloomin' picnic. + +MRS. JONES. Of course it would have been better for us if we had +never met. We were n't meant for each other. But you're set +against me, that's what you are, and you have been for a long time. +And you treat me so badly, James, going after that Rosie and all. +You don't ever seem to think of the children that I 've had to bring +into the world, and of all the trouble I 've had to keep them, and +what 'll become of them when you're gone. + +JONES. [Crossing the room gloomily.] If you think I want to leave +the little beggars you're bloomin' well mistaken. + +MRS. JONES. Of course I know you're fond of them. + +JONES. [Fingering the purse, half angrily.] Well, then, you stow +it, old girl. The kids 'll get along better with you than when I 'm +here. If I 'd ha' known as much as I do now, I 'd never ha' had one +o' them. What's the use o' bringin' 'em into a state o' things like +this? It's a crime, that's what it is; but you find it out too late; +that's what's the matter with this 'ere world. + + [He puts the purse back in his pocket.] + +MRS. JONES. Of course it would have been better for them, poor +little things; but they're your own children, and I wonder at you +talkin' like that. I should miss them dreadfully if I was to lose +them. + +JONES. [Sullenly.] An' you ain't the only one. If I make money +out there--[Looking up, he sees her shaking out his coat--in a +changed voice.] Leave that coat alone! + + [The silver box drops from the pocket, scattering the + cigarettes upon the bed. Taking up the box she stares at it; + he rushes at her and snatches the box away.] + +MRS. JONES. [Cowering back against the bed.] Oh, Jem! oh, Jem! + +JONES. [Dropping the box onto the table.] You mind what you're +sayin'! When I go out I 'll take and chuck it in the water along +with that there purse. I 'ad it when I was in liquor, and for what +you do when you 're in liquor you're not responsible-and that's +Gawd's truth as you ought to know. I don't want the thing--I won't +have it. I took it out o' spite. I 'm no thief, I tell you; and +don't you call me one, or it'll be the worse for you. + +MRS. JONES. [Twisting her apron strings.] It's Mr. Barthwick's! +You've taken away my reputation. Oh, Jem, whatever made you? + +JONES. What d' you mean? + +MRS. JONES. It's been missed; they think it's me. Oh! whatever +made you do it, Jem? + +JONES. I tell you I was in liquor. I don't want it; what's the +good of it to me? If I were to pawn it they'd only nab me. I 'm no +thief. I 'm no worse than wot that young Barthwick is; he brought +'ome that purse that I picked up--a lady's purse--'ad it off 'er in +a row, kept sayin' 'e 'd scored 'er off. Well, I scored 'im off. +Tight as an owl 'e was! And d' you think anything'll happen to him? + +MRS. JONES. [As though speaking to herself.] Oh, Jem! it's the +bread out of our mouths! + +JONES. Is it then? I'll make it hot for 'em yet. What about that +purse? What about young BARTHWICK? + +[MRS. JONES comes forward to the table and tries to take the box; +JONES prevents her.] What do you want with that? You drop it, I +say! + +MRS. JONES. I 'll take it back and tell them all about it. [She +attempts to wrest the box from him.] + +JONES. Ah, would yer? + + [He drops the box, and rushes on her with a snarl. She slips + back past the bed. He follows; a chair is overturned. The + door is opened; Snow comes in, a detective in plain clothes and + bowler hat, with clipped moustaches. JONES drops his arms, + MRS. JONES stands by the window gasping; SNOW, advancing + swiftly to the table, puts his hand on the silver box.] + +SNOW. Doin' a bit o' skylarkin'? Fancy this is what I 'm after. +J. B., the very same. [He gets back to the door, scrutinising the +crest and cypher on the box. To MRS. JONES.] I'm a police officer. +Are you Mrs. Jones? + +MRS. JONES. Yes, Sir. + +SNOW. My instructions are to take you on a charge of stealing this +box from J. BARTHWICK, Esquire, M.P., of 6, Rockingham Gate. +Anything you say may be used against you. Well, Missis? + +MRS. JONES. [In her quiet voice, still out of breath, her hand +upon. her breast.] Of course I did not take it, sir. I never have +taken anything that did n't belong to me; and of course I know +nothing about it. + +SNOW. You were at the house this morning; you did the room in which +the box was left; you were alone in the room. I find the box 'ere. +You say you did n't take it? + +MRS. JONES. Yes, sir, of course I say I did not take it, because I +did not. + +SNOW. Then how does the box come to be here? + +MRS. JONES. I would rather not say anything about it. + +SNOW. Is this your husband? + +MRS. JONES. Yes, sir, this is my husband, sir. + +SNOW. Do you wish to say anything before I take her? + + [JONES remains silent, with his head bend down.] + +Well then, Missis. I 'll just trouble you to come along with me +quietly. + +MRS. JONES. [Twisting her hands.] Of course I would n't say I had +n't taken it if I had--and I did n't take it, indeed I did n't. Of +course I know appearances are against me, and I can't tell you what +really happened: But my children are at school, and they'll be +coming home--and I don't know what they'll do without me. + +SNOW. Your 'usband'll see to them, don't you worry. [He takes the +woman gently by the arm.] + +JONES. You drop it--she's all right! [Sullenly.] I took the thing +myself. + +SNOW. [Eyeing him] There, there, it does you credit. Come along, +Missis. + +JONES. [Passionately.] Drop it, I say, you blooming teck. She's +my wife; she 's a respectable woman. Take her if you dare! + +SNOW. Now, now. What's the good of this? Keep a civil tongue, and +it'll be the better for all of us. + + [He puts his whistle in his mouth and draws the woman to the + door.] + +JONES. [With a rush.] Drop her, and put up your 'ands, or I 'll +soon make yer. You leave her alone, will yer! Don't I tell yer, I +took the thing myself. + +SNOW. [Blowing his whistle.] Drop your hands, or I 'll take you +too. Ah, would you? + + [JONES, closing, deals him a blow. A Policeman in uniform + appears; there is a short struggle and JONES is overpowered. + MRS. JONES raises her hands avid drops her face on them.] + + + The curtain falls. + + + + +SCENE II + + The BARTHWICKS' dining-room the same evening. The BARTHWICKS + are seated at dessert. + +MRS. BARTHWICK. John! [A silence broken by the cracking of nuts.] +John! + +BARTHWICK. I wish you'd speak about the nuts they're uneatable. +[He puts one in his mouth.] + +MRS. BARTHWICK. It's not the season for them. I called on the +Holyroods. + + [BARTHWICK fills his glass with port.] + +JACK. Crackers, please, Dad. + + [BARTHWICK passes the crackers. His demeanour is reflective.] + +MRS. BARTHWICK. Lady Holyrood has got very stout. I 've noticed it +coming for a long time. + +BARTHWICK. [Gloomily.] Stout? [He takes up the crackers--with +transparent airiness.] The Holyroods had some trouble with their +servants, had n't they? + +JACK. Crackers, please, Dad. + +BARTHWICK. [Passing the crackers.] It got into the papers. The +cook, was n't it? + +MRS. BARTHWICK. No, the lady's maid. I was talking it over with +Lady Holyrood. The girl used to have her young man to see her. + +BARTHWICK. [Uneasily.] I'm not sure they were wise---- + +MRS. BARTHWICK. My dear John, what are you talking about? How +could there be any alternative? Think of the effect on the other +servants! + +BARTHWICK. Of course in principle--I wasn't thinking of that. + +JACK. [Maliciously.] Crackers, please, Dad. + + [BARTHWICK is compelled to pass the crackers.] + +MRS. BARTHWICK. Lady Holyrood told me: "I had her up," she said; "I +said to her, 'You'll leave my house at once; I think your conduct +disgraceful. I can't tell, I don't know, and I don't wish to know, +what you were doing. I send you away on principle; you need not +come to me for a character.' And the girl said: 'If you don't give +me my notice, my lady, I want a month's wages. I'm perfectly +respectable. I've done nothing.'"'--Done nothing! + +BARTHWICK. H'm! + +MRS. BARTHWICK. Servants have too much license. They hang together +so terribly you never can tell what they're really thinking; it's as +if they were all in a conspiracy to keep you in the dark. Even with +Marlow, you feel that he never lets you know what's really in his +mind. I hate that secretiveness; it destroys all confidence. I +feel sometimes I should like to shake him. + +JACK. Marlow's a most decent chap. It's simply beastly every one +knowing your affairs. + +BARTHWICK. The less you say about that the better! + +MRS. BARTHWICK. It goes all through the lower classes. You can not +tell when they are speaking the truth. To-day when I was shopping +after leaving the Holyroods, one of these unemployed came up and +spoke to me. I suppose I only had twenty yards or so to walk to the +carnage, but he seemed to spring up in the street. + +BARTHWICK. Ah! You must be very careful whom you speak to in these +days. + +MRS. BARTHWICK. I did n't answer him, of course. But I could see +at once that he wasn't telling the truth. + +BARTHWICK. [Cracking a nut.] There's one very good rule--look at +their eyes. + +JACK. Crackers, please, Dad. + +BARTHWICK. [Passing the crackers.] If their eyes are straight- +forward I sometimes give them sixpence. It 's against my +principles, but it's most difficult to refuse. If you see that +they're desperate, and dull, and shifty-looking, as so many of them +are, it's certain to mean drink, or crime, or something +unsatisfactory. + +MRS. BARTHWICK. This man had dreadful eyes. He looked as if he +could commit a murder. "I 've 'ad nothing to eat to-day," he said. +Just like that. + +BARTHWICK. What was William about? He ought to have been waiting. + +JACK. [Raising his wine-glass to his nose.] Is this the '63, Dad? + + [BARTHWICK, holding his wine-glass to his eye, lowers it and + passes it before his nose.] + +MRS. BARTHWICK. I hate people that can't speak the truth. [Father +and son exchange a look behind their port.] It 's just as easy to +speak the truth as not. I've always found it easy enough. It makes +it impossible to tell what is genuine; one feels as if one were +continually being taken in. + +BARTHWICK. [Sententiously.] The lower classes are their own +enemies. If they would only trust us, they would get on so much +better. + +MRS. BARTHWICK. But even then it's so often their own fault. Look +at that Mrs. Jones this morning. + +BARTHWICK. I only want to do what's right in that matter. I had +occasion to see Roper this afternoon. I mentioned it to him. He's +coming in this evening. It all depends on what the detective says. +I've had my doubts. I've been thinking it over. + +MRS. BARTHWICK. The woman impressed me most unfavourably. She +seemed to have no shame. That affair she was talking about--she and +the man when they were young, so immoral! And before you and Jack! +I could have put her out of the room! + +BARTHWICK. Oh! I don't want to excuse them, but in looking at +these matters one must consider---- + +MRS. BARTHWICK. Perhaps you'll say the man's employer was wrong in +dismissing him? + +BARTHWICK. Of course not. It's not there that I feel doubt. What +I ask myself is---- + +JACK. Port, please, Dad. + +BARTHWICK. [Circulating the decanter in religious imitation of the +rising and setting of the sun.] I ask myself whether we are +sufficiently careful in making inquiries about people before we +engage them, especially as regards moral conduct. + +JACK. Pass the-port, please, Mother! + +MRS. BARTHWICK. [Passing it.] My dear boy, are n't you drinking +too much? + + [JACK fills his glass.] + +MARLOW. [Entering.] Detective Snow to see you, Sir. + +BARTHWICK. [Uneasily.] Ah! say I'll be with him in a minute. + +MRS. BARTHWICK. [Without turning.] Let him come in here, Marlow. + + [SNOW enters in an overcoat, his bowler hat in hand.] + +BARTHWICK. [Half-rising.] Oh! Good evening! + +SNOW. Good evening, sir; good evening, ma'am. I 've called round to +report what I 've done, rather late, I 'm afraid--another case took +me away. [He takes the silver box out o f his pocket, causing a +sensation in the BARTHWICK family.] This is the identical article, +I believe. + +BARTHWICK. Certainly, certainly. + +SNOW. Havin' your crest and cypher, as you described to me, sir, I +'d no hesitation in the matter. + +BARTHWICK. Excellent. Will you have a glass of [he glances at the +waning port]--er--sherry-[pours out sherry]. Jack, just give Mr. +Snow this. + + [JACK rises and gives the glass to SNOW; then, lolling in his + chair, regards him indolently.] + +SNOW. [Drinking off wine and putting down the glass.] After seeing +you I went round to this woman's lodgings, sir. It's a low +neighborhood, and I thought it as well to place a constable below-- +and not without 'e was wanted, as things turned out. + +BARTHWICK. Indeed! + +SNOW. Yes, Sir, I 'ad some trouble. I asked her to account for the +presence of the article. She could give me no answer, except to +deny the theft; so I took her into custody; then her husband came +for me, so I was obliged to take him, too, for assault. He was very +violent on the way to the station--very violent--threatened you and +your son, and altogether he was a handful, I can till you. + +MRS. BARTHWICK. What a ruffian he must be! + +SNOW. Yes, ma'am, a rough customer. + +JACK. [Sipping his mine, bemused.] Punch the beggar's head. + +SNOW. Given to drink, as I understand, sir. + +MRS. BARTHWICK. It's to be hoped he will get a severe punishment. + +SNOW. The odd thing is, sir, that he persists in sayin' he took the +box himself. + +BARTHWICK. Took the box himself! [He smiles.] What does he think +to gain by that? + +SNOW. He says the young gentleman was intoxicated last night + + [JACK stops the cracking of a nut, and looks at SNOW.] + + [BARTHWICK, losing his smile, has put his wine-glass down; + there is a silence--SNOW, looking from face to face, remarks] + +--took him into the house and gave him whisky; and under the +influence of an empty stomach the man says he took the box. + +MRS. BARTHWICK. The impudent wretch! + +BARTHWICK. D' you mean that he--er--intends to put this forward +to-morrow? + +SNOW. That'll be his line, sir; but whether he's endeavouring to +shield his wife, or whether [he looks at JACK] there's something in +it, will be for the magistrate to say. + +MRS. BARTHWICK. [Haughtily.] Something in what? I don't +understand you. As if my son would bring a man like that into the +house! + +BARTHWICK. [From the fireplace, with an effort to be calm.] My son +can speak for himself, no doubt. Well, Jack, what do you say? + +MRS. BARTHWICK. [Sharply.] What does he say? Why, of course, he +says the whole story's stuff! + +JACK. [Embarrassed.] Well, of course, I--of course, I don't know +anything about it. + +MRS. BARTHWICK. I should think not, indeed! [To Snow.] The man is +an audacious ruffian! + +BARTHWICK. [Suppressing jumps.] But in view of my son's saying +there's nothing in this--this fable--will it be necessary to proceed +against the man under the circumstances? + +SNOW. We shall have to charge him with the assault, sir. It would +be as well for your son to come down to the Court. There'll be a +remand, no doubt. The queer thing is there was quite a sum of money +found on him, and a crimson silk purse. + + [BARTHWICK starts; JACK rises and sits dozen again.] + +I suppose the lady has n't missed her purse? + +BARTHWICK. [Hastily.] Oh, no! Oh! No! + +JACK. No! + +MRS. BARTHWICK. [Dreamily.] No! [To SNOW.] I 've been inquiring +of the servants. This man does hang about the house. I shall feel +much safer if he gets a good long sentence; I do think we ought to +be protected against such ruffians. + +BARTHWICK. Yes, yes, of course, on principle but in this case we +have a number of things to think of. [To SNOW.] I suppose, as you +say, the man must be charged, eh? + +SNOW. No question about that, sir. + +BARTHWICK. [Staring gloomily at JACK.] This prosecution goes very +much against the grain with me. I have great sympathy with the +poor. In my position I 'm bound to recognise the distress there is +amongst them. The condition of the people leaves much to be +desired. D' you follow me? I wish I could see my way to drop it. + +MRS. BARTHWICK. [Sharply.] John! it's simply not fair to other +people. It's putting property at the mercy of any one who likes to +take it. + +BARTHWICK. [Trying to make signs to her aside.] I 'm not defending +him, not at all. I'm trying to look at the matter broadly. + +MRS. BARTHWICK. Nonsense, John, there's a time for everything. + +SNOW. [Rather sardonically.] I might point out, sir, that to +withdraw the charge of stealing would not make much difference, +because the facts must come out [he looks significantly at JACK] in +reference to the assault; and as I said that charge will have to go +forward. + +BARTHWICK. [Hastily.] Yes, oh! exactly! It's entirely on the +woman's account--entirely a matter of my own private feelings. + +SNOW. If I were you, sir, I should let things take their course. +It's not likely there'll be much difficulty. These things are very +quick settled. + +BARTHWICK. [Doubtfully.] You think so--you think so? + +JACK. [Rousing himself.] I say, what shall I have to swear to? + +SNOW. That's best known to yourself, sir. [Retreating to the +door.] Better employ a solicitor, sir, in case anything should +arise. We shall have the butler to prove the loss of the article. +You'll excuse me going, I 'm rather pressed to-night. The case may +come on any time after eleven. Good evening, sir; good evening, +ma'am. I shall have to produce the box in court to-morrow, so if +you'll excuse me, sir, I may as well take it with me. + + [He takes the silver box and leaves them with a little bow.] + + [BARTHWICK makes a move to follow him, then dashing his hands + beneath his coat tails, speaks with desperation.] + +BARTHWICK. I do wish you'd leave me to manage things myself. You +will put your nose into matters you know nothing of. A pretty mess +you've made of this! + +MRS. BARTHWICK. [Coldly.] I don't in the least know what you're +talking about. If you can't stand up for your rights, I can. I 've +no patience with your principles, it's such nonsense. + +BARTHWICK. Principles! Good Heavens! What have principles to do +with it for goodness sake? Don't you know that Jack was drunk last +night! + +JACK. Dad! + +MRS. BARTHWICK. [In horror rising.] Jack! + +JACK. Look here, Mother--I had supper. Everybody does. I mean to +say--you know what I mean--it's absurd to call it being drunk. At +Oxford everybody gets a bit "on" sometimes---- + +MRS. BARTHWICK. Well, I think it's most dreadful! If that is +really what you do at Oxford? + +JACK. [Angrily.] Well, why did you send me there? One must do as +other fellows do. It's such nonsense, I mean, to call it being +drunk. Of course I 'm awfully sorry. I 've had such a beastly +headache all day. + +BARTHWICK. Tcha! If you'd only had the common decency to remember +what happened when you came in. Then we should know what truth +there was in what this fellow says--as it is, it's all the most +confounded darkness. + +JACK. [Staring as though at half-formed visions.] I just get a-- +and then--it 's gone---- + +MRS. BARTHWICK. Oh, Jack! do you mean to say you were so tipsy you +can't even remember---- + +JACK. Look here, Mother! Of course I remember I came--I must have +come---- + +BARTHWICK. [Unguardedly, and walking up and down.] Tcha!--and that +infernal purse! Good Heavens! It'll get into the papers. Who on +earth could have foreseen a thing like this? Better to have lost a +dozen cigarette-boxes, and said nothing about it. [To his wife.] +It's all your doing. I told you so from the first. I wish to +goodness Roper would come! + +MRS. BARTHWICK. [Sharply.] I don't know what you're talking about, +John. + +BARTHWICK. [Turning on her.] No, you--you--you don't know +anything! [Sharply.] Where the devil is Roper? If he can see a +way out of this he's a better man than I take him for. I defy any +one to see a way out of it. I can't. + +JACK. Look here, don't excite Dad--I can simply say I was too +beastly tired, and don't remember anything except that I came in and +[in a dying voice] went to bed the same as usual. + +BARTHWICK. Went to bed? Who knows where you went--I 've lost all +confidence. For all I know you slept on the floor. + +JACK. [Indignantly.] I did n't, I slept on the---- + +BARTHWICK. [Sitting on the sofa.] Who cares where you slept; what +does it matter if he mentions the--the--a perfect disgrace? + +MRS. BARTHWICK. What? [A silence.] I insist on knowing. + +JACK. Oh! nothing. + +MRS. BARTHWICK. Nothing? What do you mean by nothing, Jack? +There's your father in such a state about it! + +JACK. It's only my purse. + +MRS. BARTHWICK. Your purse! You know perfectly well you have n't +got one. + +JACK. Well, it was somebody else's--it was all a joke--I did n't +want the beastly thing. + +MRS. BARTHWICK. Do you mean that you had another person's purse, +and that this man took it too? + +BARTHWICK. Tcha! Of course he took it too! A man like that Jones +will make the most of it. It'll get into the papers. + +MRS. BARTHWICK. I don't understand. What on earth is all the fuss +about? [Bending over JACK, and softly.] Jack now, tell me dear! +Don't be afraid. What is it? Come! + +JACK. Oh, don't Mother! + +MRS. BARTHWICK. But don't what, dear? + +JACK. It was pure sport. I don't know how I got the thing. Of +course I 'd had a bit of a row--I did n't know what I was doing--I +was--I Was--well, you know--I suppose I must have pulled the bag out +of her hand. + +MRS. BARTHWICK. Out of her hand? Whose hand? What bag--whose bag? + +JACK. Oh! I don't know--her bag--it belonged to--[in a desperate +and rising voice] a woman. + +MRS. BARTHWICK. A woman? Oh! Jack! No! + +JACK. [Jumping up.] You would have it. I did n't want to tell +you. It's not my fault. + + [The door opens and MARLOW ushers in a man of middle age, + inclined to corpulence, in evening dress. He has a ruddy, thin + moustache, and dark, quick-moving little eyes. His eyebrows + aye Chinese.] + +MARLOW. Mr. Roper, Sir. [He leaves the room.] + +ROPER. [With a quick look round.] How do you do? + + [But neither JACK nor MRS. BARTHWICK make a sign.] + +BARTHWICK. [Hurrying.] Thank goodness you've come, Roper. You +remember what I told you this afternoon; we've just had the +detective here. + +ROPER. Got the box? + +BARTHWICK. Yes, yes, but look here--it was n't the charwoman at +all; her drunken loafer of a husband took the things--he says that +fellow there [he waves his hand at JACK, who with his shoulder +raised, seems trying to ward off a blow] let him into the house last +night. Can you imagine such a thing. + + [Roper laughs. ] + +BARTHWICK. [With excited emphasis.]. It's no laughing matter, +Roper. I told you about that business of Jack's too--don't you see +the brute took both the things--took that infernal purse. It'll get +into the papers. + +ROPER. [Raising his eyebrows.] H'm! The purse! Depravity in high +life! What does your son say? + +BARTHWICK. He remembers nothing. D--n! Did you ever see such a +mess? It 'll get into the papers. + +MRS. BARTHWICK. [With her hand across hey eyes.] Oh! it's not +that---- + + [BARTHWICK and ROPER turn and look at her.] + +BARTHWICK. It's the idea of that woman--she's just heard---- + + [ROPER nods. And MRS. BARTHWICK, setting her lips, gives a + slow look at JACK, and sits down at the table.] + +What on earth's to be done, Roper? A ruffian like this Jones will +make all the capital he can out of that purse. + +MRS. BARTHWICK. I don't believe that Jack took that purse. + +BARTHWICK. What--when the woman came here for it this morning? + +MRS. BARTHWICK. Here? She had the impudence? Why was n't I told? + + [She looks round from face to face--no one answers hey, there + is a pause.] + +BARTHWICK. [Suddenly.] What's to be done, Roper? + +ROPER. [Quietly to JACK.] I suppose you did n't leave your latch- +key in the door? + +JACK. [Sullenly.] Yes, I did. + +BARTHWICK. Good heavens! What next? + +MRS. BARTHWICK. I 'm certain you never let that man into the house, +Jack, it's a wild invention. I'm sure there's not a word of truth +in it, Mr. Roper. + +ROPER. [Very suddenly.] Where did you sleep last night? + +JACK. [Promptly.] On the sofa, there--[hesitating]--that is--I---- + +BARTHWICK. On the sofa? D' you mean to say you did n't go to bed? + +JACK.[Sullenly.] No. + +BARTHWICK. If you don't remember anything, how can you remember +that? + +JACK. Because I woke up there in the morning. + +MRS. BARTHWICK. Oh, Jack! + +BARTHWICK. Good Gracious! + +JACK. And Mrs. Jones saw me. I wish you would n't bait me so. + +ROPER. Do you remember giving any one a drink? + +JACK. By Jove, I do seem to remember a fellow with--a fellow with +[He looks at Roper.] I say, d' you want me----? + +ROPER. [Quick as lightning.] With a dirty face? + +JACK. [With illumination.] I do--I distinctly remember his---- + + [BARTHWICK moves abruptly; MRS. BARTHWICK looks at ROPER + angrily, and touches her son's arm.] + +MRS. BARTHWICK. You don't remember, it's ridiculous! I don't +believe the man was ever here at all. + +BARTHWICK. You must speak the truth, if it is the truth. But if +you do remember such a dirty business, I shall wash my hands of you +altogether. + +JACK. [Glaring at them.] Well, what the devil---- + +MRS. BARTHWICK. Jack! + +JACK. Well, Mother, I--I don't know what you do want. + +MRS. BARTHWICK. We want you to speak the truth and say you never +let this low man into the house. + +BARTHWICK. Of course if you think that you really gave this man +whisky in that disgraceful way, and let him see what you'd been +doing, and were in such a disgusting condition that you don't +remember a word of it---- + +ROPER. [Quick.] I've no memory myself--never had. + +BARTHWICK. [Desperately.] I don't know what you're to say. + +ROPER. [To JACK.] Say nothing at all! Don't put yourself in a +false position. The man stole the things or the woman stole the +things, you had nothing to do with it. You were asleep on the sofa. + +MRS. BARTHWICK. Your leaving the latch-key in the door was quite +bad enough, there's no need to mention anything else. [Touching his +forehead softly.] My dear, how hot your head is! + +JACK. But I want to know what I 'm to do. [Passionately.] I won't +be badgered like this. + + [MRS. BARTHWICK recoils from him.] + +ROPER. [Very quickly.] You forget all about it. You were asleep. + +JACK. Must I go down to the Court to-morrow? + +ROPER. [Shaking his head.] No. + +BARTHWICK. [In a relieved voice.] Is that so? + +ROPER. Yes. + +BARTHWICK. But you'll go, Roper. + +ROPER. Yes. + +JACK. [With wan cheerfulness.] Thanks, awfully! So long as I +don't have to go. [Putting his hand up to his head.] I think if +you'll excuse me--I've had a most beastly day. [He looks from his +father to his mother.] + +MRS. BARTHWICK. [Turning quickly.] Goodnight, my boy. + +JACK. Good-night, Mother. + + [He goes out. MRS. BARTHWICK heaves a sigh. There is a + silence.] + +BARTHWICK. He gets off too easily. But for my money that woman +would have prosecuted him. + +ROPER. You find money useful. + +BARTHWICK. I've my doubts whether we ought to hide'the truth---- + +ROPER. There'll be a remand. + +BARTHWICK. What! D' you mean he'll have to appear on the remand. + +ROPER. Yes. + +BARTHWICK. H'm, I thought you'd be able to----Look here, Roper, +you must keep that purse out of the papers. + + [ROPER fixes his little eyes on him and nods.] + +MRS. BARTHWICK. Mr. Roper, don't you think the magistrate ought to +be told what sort of people these Jones's are; I mean about their +immorality before they were married. I don't know if John told you. + +ROPER. Afraid it's not material. + +MRS. BARTHWICK. Not material? + +ROPER. Purely private life! May have happened to the magistrate. + +BARTHWICK. [With a movement as if to shift a burden.] Then you'll +take the thing into your hands? + +ROPER. If the gods are kind. [He holds his hand out.] + +BARTHWICK. [Shaking it dubiously.] Kind eh? What? You going? + +ROPER. Yes. I've another case, something like yours--most +unexpected. + + [He bows to MRS. BARTHWICK, and goes out, followed by + BARTHWICK, talking to the last. MRS. BARTHWICK at the table + bursts into smothered sobs. BARTHWICK returns.] + +BARTHWICK. [To himself.] There'll be a scandal! + +MRS. BARTHWICK. [Disguising her grief at once.] I simply can't +imagine what Roper means by making a joke of a thing like that! + +BARTHWICK. [Staring strangely.] You! You can't imagine anything! +You've no more imagination than a fly! + +MRS. BARTHWICK. [Angrily.] You dare to tell me that I have no +imagination. + +BARTHWICK. [Flustered.] I--I 'm upset. From beginning to end, the +whole thing has been utterly against my principles. + +MRS. BARTHWICK. Rubbish! You have n't any! Your principles are +nothing in the world but sheer fright! + +BARTHWICK. [Walking to the window.] I've never been frightened in +my life. You heard what Roper said. It's enough to upset one when +a thing like this happens. Everything one says and does seems to +turn in one's mouth--it's--it's uncanny. It's not the sort of thing +I've been accustomed to. [As though stifling, he throws the window +open. The faint sobbing of a child comes in.] What's that? + + [They listen.] + +MRS. BARTHWICK. [Sharply.] I can't stand that crying. I must send +Marlow to stop it. My nerves are all on edge. [She rings the +bell.] + +BARTHWICK. I'll shut the window; you'll hear nothing. [He shuts +the window. There is silence.] + +MRS. BARTHWICK. [Sharply.] That's no good! It's on my nerves. +Nothing upsets me like a child's crying. + + [MARLOW comes in.] + +What's that noise of crying, Marlow? It sounds like a child. + +BARTHWICK. It is a child. I can see it against the railings. + +MARLOW. [Opening the window, and looking out quietly.] It's Mrs. +Jones's little boy, ma'am; he came here after his mother. + +MRS. BARTHWICK. [Moving quickly to the window.] Poor little chap! +John, we ought n't to go on with this! + +BARTHWICK. [Sitting heavily in a chair.] Ah! but it's out of our +hands! + + [MRS. BARTHWICK turns her back to the window. There is an + expression of distress on hey face. She stands motionless, + compressing her lips. The crying begins again. BARTHWICK + coveys his ears with his hands, and MARLOW shuts the window. + The crying ceases.] + + + The curtain falls. + + + + +ACT III + + Eight days have passed, and the scene is a London Police Court + at one o'clock. A canopied seat of Justice is surmounted by + the lion and unicorn. Before the fire a worn-looking + MAGISTRATE is warming his coat-tails, and staring at two little + girls in faded blue and orange rags, who are placed before the + dock. Close to the witness-box is a RELIEVING OFFICER in an + overcoat, and a short brown beard. Beside the little girls + stands a bald POLICE CONSTABLE. On the front bench are sitting + BARTHWICK and ROPER, and behind them JACK. In the railed + enclosure are seedy-looking men and women. Some prosperous + constables sit or stand about. + +MAGISTRATE. [In his paternal and ferocious voice, hissing his s's.] +Now let us dispose of these young ladies. + +USHER. Theresa Livens, Maud Livens. + + [The bald CONSTABLE indicates the little girls, who remain + silent, disillusioned, inattentive.] + +Relieving Officer! + + [The RELIEVING OFFICER Steps into the witness-box.] + +USHER. The evidence you give to the Court shall be the truth, the +whole truth, and nothing but the truth, so help you God! Kiss the +book! + + [The book is kissed.] + +RELIEVING OFFICER. [In a monotone, pausing slightly at each +sentence end, that his evidence may be inscribed.] About ten +o'clock this morning, your Worship, I found these two little girls +in Blue Street, Fulham, crying outside a public-house. Asked where +their home was, they said they had no home. Mother had gone away. +Asked about their father. Their father had no work. Asked where +they slept last night. At their aunt's. I 've made inquiries, your +Worship. The wife has broken up the home and gone on the streets. +The husband is out of work and living in common lodging-houses. The +husband's sister has eight children of her own, and says she can't +afford to keep these little girls any longer. + +MAGISTRATE. [Returning to his seat beneath the canopy of justice.] +Now, let me see. You say the mother is on the streets; what +evidence have you of that? + +RELIEVING OFFICER. I have the husband here, your Worship. + +MAGISTRATE. Very well; then let us see him. + + [There are cries of "LIVENS." The MAGISTRATE leans forward, + and stares with hard compassion at the little girls. LIVENS + comes in. He is quiet, with grizzled hair, and a muffler for a + collar. He stands beside the witness-box.] + +And you, are their father? Now, why don't you keep your little +girls at home. How is it you leave them to wander about the streets +like this? + +LIVENS. I've got no home, your Worship. I'm living from 'and to +mouth. I 've got no work; and nothin' to keep them on. + +MAGISTRATE. How is that? + +LIVENS. [Ashamedly.] My wife, she broke my 'ome up, and pawned the +things. + +MAGISTRATE. But what made you let her? + +LEVINS. Your Worship, I'd no chance to stop 'er, she did it when I +was out lookin' for work. + +MAGISTRATE. Did you ill-treat her? + +LIVENS. [Emphatically.] I never raised my 'and to her in my life, +your Worship. + +MAGISTRATE. Then what was it--did she drink? + +LIVENS. Yes, your Worship. + +MAGISTRATE. Was she loose in her behaviour? + +LIVENS. [In a low voice.] Yes, your Worship. + +MAGISTRATE. And where is she now? + +LIVENS. I don't know your Worship. She went off with a man, and +after that I---- + +MAGISTRATE. Yes, yes. Who knows anything of her? [To the bald +CONSTABLE.] Is she known here? + +RELIEVING OFFICER. Not in this district, your Worship; but I have +ascertained that she is well known---- + +MAGISTRATE. Yes--yes; we'll stop at that. Now [To the Father] you +say that she has broken up your home, and left these little girls. +What provision can you make for them? You look a strong man. + +LIVENS. So I am, your Worship. I'm willin' enough to work, but for +the life of me I can't get anything to do. + +MAGISTRATE. But have you tried? + +LIVENS. I've tried everything, your Worship--I 've tried my +'ardest. + +MAGISTRATE. Well, well---- [There is a silence.] + +RELIEVING OFFICER. If your Worship thinks it's a case, my people are +willing to take them. + +MAGISTRATE. Yes, yes, I know; but I've no evidence that this man is +not the proper guardian for his children. + + [He rises oval goes back to the fire.] + +RELIEVING OFFICER. The mother, your Worship, is able to get access +to them. + +MAGISTRATE. Yes, yes; the mother, of course, is an improper person +to have anything to do with them. [To the Father.] Well, now what +do you say? + +LIVENS. Your Worship, I can only say that if I could get work I +should be only too willing to provide for them. But what can I do, +your Worship? Here I am obliged to live from 'and to mouth in these +'ere common lodging-houses. I 'm a strong man--I'm willing to work +--I'm half as alive again as some of 'em--but you see, your Worship, +my 'airs' turned a bit, owing to the fever--[Touches his hair]--and +that's against me; and I don't seem to get a chance anyhow. + +MAGISTRATE. Yes-yes. [Slowly.] Well, I think it 's a case. +[Staring his hardest at the little girls.] Now, are you willing +that these little girls should be sent to a home. + +LIVENS. Yes, your Worship, I should be very willing. + +MAGISTRATE. Well, I'll remand them for a week. Bring them again +to-day week; if I see no reason against it then, I 'll make an +order. + +RELIEVING OFFICER. To-day week, your Worship. + + [The bald CONSTABLE takes the little girls out by the + shoulders. The father follows them. The MAGISTRATE, returning + to his seat, bends over and talks to his CLERK inaudibly.] + +BARTHWICK. [Speaking behind his hand.] A painful case, Roper; very +distressing state of things. + +ROPER. Hundreds like this in the Police Courts. + +BARTHWICK. Most distressing! The more I see of it, the more +important this question of the condition of the people seems to +become. I shall certainly make a point of taking up the cudgels in +the House. I shall move---- + + [The MAGISTRATE ceases talking to his CLERK.] + +CLERK. Remands! + + [BARTHWICK stops abruptly. There is a stir and MRS. JONES + comes in by the public door; JONES, ushered by policemen, comes + from the prisoner's door. They file into the dock.] + +CLERK. James Jones, Jane Jones. + +USHER. Jane Jones! + +BARTHWICK. [In a whisper.] The purse--the purse must be kept out +of it, Roper. Whatever happens you must keep that out of the +papers. + + [ROPER nods.] + +BALD CONSTABLE. Hush! + + [MRS. JONES, dressed in hey thin, black, wispy dress, and black + straw hat, stands motionless with hands crossed on the front + rail of the dock. JONES leans against the back rail of the + dock, and keeps half turning, glancing defiantly about him. He + is haggard and unshaven.] + +CLERK. [Consulting with his papers.] This is the case remanded +from last Wednesday, Sir. Theft of a silver cigarette-box and +assault on the police; the two charges were taken together. Jane +Jones! James Jones! + +MAGISTRATE. [Staring.] Yes, yes; I remember. + +CLERK. Jane Jones. + +MRS. JONES. Yes, Sir. + +CLERK. Do you admit stealing a silver cigarette-box valued at five +pounds, ten shillings, from the house of John BARTHWICK, M.P., +between the hours of 11 p.m. on Easter Monday and 8.45 a.m. on +Easter Tuesday last? Yes, or no? + +MRS. JONES. [In a logy voice.] No, Sir, I do not, sir. + +CLERK. James Jones? Do you admit stealing a silver cigarette-box +valued at five pounds, ten shillings, from the house of John +BARTHWICK, M.P., between the hours of 11 p.m. on Easter Monday and +8.45 A.M. on Easter Tuesday last. And further making an assault on +the police when in the execution of their duty at 3 p.m. on Easter +Tuesday? Yes or no? + +JONES. [Sullenly.] Yes, but I've got a lot to say about it. + +MAGISTRATE. [To the CLERK.] Yes--yes. But how comes it that these +two people are charged with the same offence? Are they husband and +wife? + +CLERK. Yes, Sir. You remember you ordered a remand for further +evidence as to the story of the male prisoner. + +MAGISTRATE. Have they been in custody since? + +CLERK. You released the woman on her own recognisances, sir. + +MAGISTRATE. Yes, yes, this is the case of the silver box; I +remember now. Well? + +CLERK. Thomas Marlow. + + [The cry of "THOMAS MARLOW" is repeated MARLOW comes in, and + steps into the witness-box.] + +USHER. The evidence you give to the court shall be the truth, the +whole truth, and nothing but the truth, so help you God. Kiss the +book. + + [The book is kissed. The silver box is handed up, and placed + on the rail.] + +CLERK. [Reading from his papers.] Your name is Thomas Marlow? Are +you, butler to John BARTHWICK, M.P., of 6, Rockingham Gate? + +MARLOW. Yes, Sir. + +CLERK. Is that the box? + +MARLOW. Yes Sir. + +CLERK. And did you miss the same at 8.45 on the following morning, +on going to remove the tray? + +MARLOW. Yes, Sir. + +CLERK. Is the female prisoner known to you? + + [MARLOW nods.] + +Is she the charwoman. employed at 6, Rockingham Gate? + + [Again MARLOW nods.] + +Did you at the time of your missing the box find her in the room +alone? + +MARLOW. Yes, Sir. + +CLERK. Did you afterwards communicate the loss to your employer, +and did he send you to the police station? + +MARLOW. Yes, Sir. + +CLERK. [To MRS. JONES.] Have you anything to ask him? + +MRS. JONES. No, sir, nothing, thank you, sir. + +CLERK. [To JONES.] James Jones, have you anything to ask this +witness? + +JONES. I don't know 'im. + +MAGISTRATE. Are you sure you put the box in the place you say at +the time you say? + +MARLOW. Yes, your Worship. + +MAGISTRATE. Very well; then now let us have the officer. + + [MARLOW leaves the box, and Snow goes into it.] + +USHER. The evidence you give to the court shall be the truth, the +whole truth, and nothing but the truth, so help you God. [The book +is kissed.] + +CLERK. [Reading from his papers.] Your name is Robert Allow? You +are a detective in the X. B. division of the Metropolitan police +force? According to instructions received did you on Easter Tuesday +last proceed to the prisoner's lodgings at 34, Merthyr Street, St. +Soames's? And did you on entering see the box produced, lying on +the table? + +SNOW. Yes, Sir. + +CLERK. Is that the box? + +Snow. [Fingering the box.] Yes, Sir. + +CLERK. And did you thereupon take possession of it, and charge the +female prisoner with theft of the box from 6, Rockingham Gate? And +did she deny the same? + +SNOW. Yes, Sir. + +CLERK. Did you take her into custody? + +Snow. Yes, Sir. + +MAGISTRATE. What was her behaviour? + +SNOW. Perfectly quiet, your Worship. She persisted in the denial. +That's all. + +MAGISTRATE. DO you know her? + +SNOW. No, your Worship. + +MAGISTRATE. Is she known here? + +BALD CONSTABLE. No, your Worship, they're neither of them known, +we 've nothing against them at all. + +CLERK. [To MRS. JONES.] Have you anything to ask the officer? + +MRS. JONES. No, sir, thank you, I 've nothing to ask him. + +MAGISTRATE. Very well then--go on. + +CLERK. [Reading from his papers.] And while you were taking the +female prisoner did the male prisoner interpose, and endeavour to +hinder you in the execution of your duty, and did he strike you a +blow? + +SNOW. Yes, Sir. + +CLERK. And did he say, "You, let her go, I took the box myself"? + +SNOW. He did. + +CLERK. And did you blow your whistle and obtain the assistance of +another constable, and take him into custody? + +SNOW. I did. + +CLERK. Was he violent on the way to the station, and did he use bad +language, and did he several times repeat that he had taken the box +himself? + + [Snow nods.] + +Did you thereupon ask him in what manner he had stolen the box? And +did you understand him to say he had entered the house at the +invitation of young Mr. BARTHWICK + + [BARTHWICK, turning in his seat, frowns at ROPER.] + +after midnight on Easter Monday, and partaken of whisky, and that +under the influence of the whisky he had taken the box? + +SNOW. I did, sir. + +CLERK. And was his demeanour throughout very violent? + +SNOW. It was very violent. + +JONES. [Breaking in.] Violent---of course it was! You put your +'ands on my wife when I kept tellin' you I took the thing myself. + +MAGISTRATE. [Hissing, with protruded neck.] Now--you will have +your chance of saying what you want to say presently. Have you +anything to ask the officer? + +JONES. [Sullenly.] No. + +MAGISTRATE. Very well then. Now let us hear what the female +prisoner has to say first. + +MRS. JONES. Well, your Worship, of course I can only say what I 've +said all along, that I did n't take the box. + +MAGISTRATE. Yes, but did you know that it was taken? + +MRS. JONES. No, your Worship. And, of course, to what my husband +says, your Worship, I can't speak of my own knowledge. Of course, I +know that he came home very late on the Monday night. It was past +one o'clock when he came in, and he was not himself at all. + +MAGISTRATE. Had he been drinking? + +MRS. JONES. Yes, your Worship. + +MAGISTRATE. And was he drunk? + +MRS. JONES. Yes, your Worship, he was almost quite drunk. + +MAGISTRATE. And did he say anything to you? + +MRS. JONES. No, your Worship, only to call me names. And of course +in the morning when I got up and went to work he was asleep. And I +don't know anything more about it until I came home again. Except +that Mr. BARTHWICK--that 's my employer, your Worship--told me the +box was missing. + +MAGISTRATE. Yes, yes. + +MRS. JONES. But of course when I was shaking out my husband's coat +the cigarette-box fell out and all the cigarettes were scattered on +the bed. + +MAGISTRATE. You say all the cigarettes were scattered on the bed? +[To SNOW.] Did you see the cigarettes scattered on the bed? + +SNOW. No, your Worship, I did not. + +MAGISTRATE. You see he says he did n't see them. + +JONES. Well, they were there for all that. + +SNOW. I can't say, your Worship, that I had the opportunity of +going round the room; I had all my work cut out with the male +prisoner. + +MAGISTRATE. [To MRS. JONES.] Well, what more have you to say? + +MRS. JONES. Of course when I saw the box, your Worship, I was +dreadfully upset, and I could n't think why he had done such a +thing; when the officer came we were having words about it, because +it is ruin to me, your Worship, in my profession, and I have three +little children dependent on me. + +MAGISTRATE. [Protruding his neck]. Yes--yes--but what did he say +to you? + +MRS. JONES. I asked him whatever came over him to do such a thing- +and he said it was the drink. He said he had had too much to drink, +and something came over him. And of course, your Worship, he had +had very little to eat all day, and the drink does go to the head +when you have not had enough to eat. Your Worship may not know, but +it is the truth. And I would like to say that all through his +married life, I have never known him to do such a thing before, +though we have passed through great hardships and [speaking with +soft emphasis] I am quite sure he would not have done it if he had +been himself at the time. + +MAGISTRATE. Yes, yes. But don't you know that that is no excuse? + +MRS. JONES. Yes, your Worship. I know that it is no excuse. + + [The MAGISTRATE leans over and parleys with his CLERK.] + +JACK. [Leaning over from his seat behind.] I say, Dad---- + +BARTHWICK. Tsst! [Sheltering his mouth he speaks to ROPER.] +Roper, you had better get up now and say that considering the +circumstances and the poverty of the prisoners, we have no wish to +proceed any further, and if the magistrate would deal with the case +as one of disorder only on the part of---- + +BALD CONSTABLE. HSSShh! + + [ROPER shakes his head.] + +MAGISTRATE. Now, supposing what you say and what your husband says +is true, what I have to consider is--how did he obtain access to +this house, and were you in any way a party to his obtaining access? +You are the charwoman employed at the house? + +MRS. JONES. Yes, your Worship, and of course if I had let him into +the house it would have been very wrong of me; and I have never done +such a thing in any of the houses where I have been employed. + +MAGISTRATE. Well--so you say. Now let us hear what story the male +prisoner makes of it. + +JONES. [Who leans with his arms on the dock behind, speaks in a +slow, sullen voice.] Wot I say is wot my wife says. I 've never +been 'ad up in a police court before, an' I can prove I took it when +in liquor. I told her, and she can tell you the same, that I was +goin' to throw the thing into the water sooner then 'ave it on my +mind. + +MAGISTRATE. But how did you get into the HOUSE? + +JONES. I was passin'. I was goin' 'ome from the "Goat and Bells." + +MAGISTRATE. The "Goat and Bells,"--what is that? A public-house? + +JONES. Yes, at the corner. It was Bank 'oliday, an' I'd 'ad a drop +to drink. I see this young Mr. BARTHWICK tryin' to find the keyhole +on the wrong side of the door. + +MAGISTRATE. Well? + +JONES. [Slowly and with many pauses.] Well---I 'elped 'im to find +it--drunk as a lord 'e was. He goes on, an' comes back again, and +says, I 've got nothin' for you, 'e says, but come in an' 'ave a +drink. So I went in just as you might 'ave done yourself. We 'ad a +drink o' whisky just as you might have 'ad, 'nd young Mr. BARTHWICK +says to me, "Take a drink 'nd a smoke. Take anything you like, 'e +says." And then he went to sleep on the sofa. I 'ad some more +whisky--an' I 'ad a smoke--and I 'ad some more whisky--an' I carn't +tell yer what 'appened after that. + +MAGISTRATE. Do you mean to say that you were so drunk that you can +remember nothing? + +JACK. [Softly to his father.] I say, that's exactly what---- + +BARTHWICK. TSSh! + +JONES. That's what I do mean. + +MAGISTRATE. And yet you say you stole the box? + +JONES. I never stole the box. I took it. + +MAGISTRATE. [Hissing with protruded neck.] You did not steal it-- +you took it. Did it belong to you--what is that but stealing? + +JONES. I took it. + +MAGISTRATE. You took it--you took it away from their house and you +took it to your house---- + +JONES. [Sullenly breaking in.] I ain't got a house. + +MAGISTRATE. Very well, let us hear what this young man Mr.--Mr. +BARTHWICK has to say to your story. + + [SNOW leaves the witness-box. The BALD CONSTABLE beckons JACK, + who, clutching his hat, goes into the witness-box. ROPER moves + to the table set apart for his profession.] + +SWEARING CLERK. The evidence you give to the court shall be the +truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth, so help you God. +Kiss the book. + + [The book is kissed.] + +ROPER. [Examining.] What is your name? + +JACK. [In a low voice.] John BARTHWICK, Junior. + + [The CLERK writes it down.] + +ROPER. Where do you live? + +JACK. At 6, Rockingham Gate. + + [All his answers are recorded by the Clerk.] + +ROPER. You are the son of the owner? + +JACK. [In a very low voice.] Yes. + +ROPER. Speak up, please. Do you know the prisoners? + +JACK. [Looking at the JONESES, in a low voice.] I 've seen Mrs. +Jones. I [in a loud voice] don't know the man. + +JONES. Well, I know you! + +BALD CONSTABLE. HSSh! + +ROPER. Now, did you come in late on the night of Easter Monday? + +JACK. Yes. + +ROPER. And did you by mistake leave your latch key in the door? + +JACK. Yes. + +MAGISTRATE. Oh! You left your latch-key in the door? + +ROPER. And is that all you can remember about your coming in? + +JACK. [In a loud voice.] Yes, it is. + +MAGISTRATE. Now, you have heard the male prisoner's story, what do +you say to that? + +JACK. [Turning to the MAGISTRATE, speaks suddenly in a confident, +straight-forward voice.] The fact of the matter is, sir, that I 'd +been out to the theatre that night, and had supper afterwards, and I +came in late. + +MAGISTRATE. Do you remember this man being outside when you came +in? + +JACK. No, Sir. [He hesitates.] I don't think I do. + +MAGISTRATE. [Somewhat puzzled.] Well, did he help you to open the +door, as he says? Did any one help you to open the door? + +JACK. No, sir--I don't think so, sir--I don't know. + +MAGISTRATE. You don't know? But you must know. It is n't a usual +thing for you to have the door opened for you, is it? + +JACK. [With a shamefaced smile.] No. + +MAGISTRATE. Very well, then---- + +JACK. [Desperately.] The fact of the matter is, sir, I'm afraid +I'd had too much champagne that night. + +MAGISTRATE. [Smiling.] Oh! you'd had too much champagne? + +JONES. May I ask the gentleman a question? + +MAGISTRATE. Yes--yes--you may ask him what questions you like. + +JONES. Don't you remember you said you was a Liberal, same as your +father, and you asked me wot I was? + +JACK. [With his hand against his brow.] I seem to remember---- + +JONES. And I said to you, "I'm a bloomin' Conservative," I said; +an' you said to me, "You look more like one of these 'ere +Socialists. Take wotever you like," you said. + +JACK. [With sudden resolution.] No, I don't. I don't remember +anything of the sort. + +JONES. Well, I do, an' my word's as good as yours. I 've never +been had up in a police court before. Look 'ere, don't you remember +you had a sky-blue bag in your 'and [BARTHWICK jumps.] + +ROPER. I submit to your worship that these questions are hardly to +the point, the prisoner having admitted that he himself does not +remember anything. [There is a smile on the face of Justice.] It +is a case of the blind leading the blind. + +JONES. [Violently.] I've done no more than wot he 'as. I'm a poor +man; I've got no money an' no friends--he 's a toff--he can do wot I +can't. + +MAGISTRATE: Now, now? All this won't help you--you must be quiet. +You say you took this box? Now, what made you take it? Were you +pressed for money? + +JONES. I'm always pressed for money. + +MAGISTRATE. Was that the reason you took it? + +JONES. No. + +MAGISTRATE. [To SNOW.] Was anything found on him? + +SNOW. Yes, your worship. There was six pounds twelve shillin's +found on him, and this purse. + + [The red silk purse is handed to the MAGISTRATE. BARTHWICK + rises his seat, but hastily sits down again.] + +MAGISTRATE. [Staring at the purse.] Yes, yes--let me see [There is +a silence.] No, no, I 've nothing before me as to the purse. How +did you come by all that money? + +JONES. [After a long pause, suddenly.] I declines to say. + +MAGISTRATE. But if you had all that money, what made you take this +box? + +JONES. I took it out of spite. + +MAGISTRATE. [Hissing, with protruded neck.] You took it out of +spite? Well now, that's something! But do you imagine you can go +about the town taking things out of spite? + +JONES. If you had my life, if you'd been out of work---- + +MAGISTRATE. Yes, yes; I know--because you're out of work you think +it's an excuse for everything. + +JONES. [Pointing at JACK.] You ask 'im wot made 'im take the---- + +ROPER. [Quietly.] Does your Worship require this witness in the +box any longer? + +MAGISTRATE. [Ironically.] I think not; he is hardly profitable. + + [JACK leaves the witness-box, and hanging his head, resumes his + seat.] + +JONES. You ask 'im wot made 'im take the lady's---- + + [But the BALD CONSTABLE catches him by the sleeve.] + +BALD CONSTABLE. SSSh! + +MAGISTRATE. [Emphatically.] Now listen to me. + +I 've nothing to do with what he may or may not have taken. Why did +you resist the police in the execution of their duty? + +JONES. It war n't their duty to take my wife, a respectable woman, +that 'ad n't done nothing. + +MAGISTRATE. But I say it was. What made you strike the officer a +blow? + +JONES. Any man would a struck 'im a blow. I'd strike 'im again, I +would. + +MAGISTRATE. You are not making your case any better by violence. +How do you suppose we could get on if everybody behaved like you? + +JONES. [Leaning forward, earnestly.] Well, wot, about 'er; who's +to make up to 'er for this? Who's to give 'er back 'er good name? + +MRS. JONES. Your Worship, it's the children that's preying on his +mind, because of course I 've lost my work. And I've had to find +another room owing to the scandal. + +MAGISTRATE. Yes, yes, I know--but if he had n't acted like this +nobody would have suffered. + +JONES. [Glaring round at JACK.] I 've done no worse than wot 'e +'as. Wot I want to know is wot 's goin' to be done to 'im. + + [The BALD CONSTABLE again says "HSSh"] + +ROPER. Mr. BARTHWICK wishes it known, your Worship, that +considering the poverty of the prisoners, he does not press the +charge as to the box. Perhaps your Worship would deal with the case +as one of disorder. + +JONES. I don't want it smothered up, I want it all dealt with fair- +-I want my rights---- + +MAGISTRATE. [Rapping his desk.] Now you have said all you have to +say, and you will be quiet. + + [There is a silence; the MAGISTRATE bends over and parleys with + his CLERK.] + +Yes, I think I may discharge the woman. [In a kindly voice he +addresses MRS. JONES, who stands unmoving with her hands crossed on +the rail.] It is very unfortunate for you that this man has behaved +as he has. It is not the consequences to him but the consequences +to you. You have been brought here twice, you have lost your work-- +[He glares at JONES]--and this is what always happens. Now you may +go away, and I am very sorry it was necessary to bring you here at +all. + +MRS. JONES. [Softly.] Thank you very much, your Worship. + + [She leaves the dock, and looking back at JONES, twists her + fingers and is still.] + +MAGISTRATE. Yes, yes, but I can't pass it over. Go away, there's a +good woman. + + [MRS. JONES stands back. The MAGISTRATE leans his head on his + hand; then raising it he speaks to JONES.] + +Now, listen to me. Do you wish the case to be settled here, or do +you wish it to go before a jury? + +JONES. [Muttering.] I don't want no jury. + +MAGISTRATE. Very well then, I will deal with it here. [After a +pause.] You have pleaded guilty to stealing this box---- + +JONES. Not to stealin'---- + +BALD CONSTABLE. HSSShh! + +MAGISTRATE. And to assaulting the police---- + +JONES. Any man as was a man---- + +MAGISTRATE. Your conduct here has been most improper. You give the +excuse that you were drunk when you stole the box. I tell you that +is no excuse. If you choose to get drunk and break the law +afterwards you must take the consequences. And let me tell you that +men like you, who get drunk and give way to your spite or whatever +it is that's in you, are--are--a nuisance to the community. + +JACK. [Leaning from his seat.] Dad! that's what you said to me! + +BARTHWICK. TSSt! + + [There is a silence, while the MAGISTRATE consults his CLERK; + JONES leans forward waiting.] + +MAGISTRATE. This is your first offence, and I am going to give you +a light sentence. [Speaking sharply, but without expression.] One +month with hard labour. + + [He bends, and parleys with his CLERK. The BALD CONSTABLE and + another help JONES from the dock.] + +JONES. [Stopping and twisting round.] Call this justice? What +about 'im? 'E got drunk! 'E took the purse--'e took the purse but +[in a muffled shout] it's 'is money got 'im off--JUSTICE! + + [The prisoner's door is shut on JONES, and from the seedy- + looking men and women comes a hoarse and whispering groan.] + +MAGISTRATE. We will now adjourn for lunch! [He rises from his +seat.] + + [The Court is in a stir. ROPER gets up and speaks to the + reporter. JACK, throwing up his head, walks with a swagger to + the corridor; BARTHWICK follows.] + +MRS. JONES. [Turning to him zenith a humble gesture.] Oh! sir! + + [BARTHWICK hesitates, then yielding to his nerves, he makes a + shame-faced gesture of refusal, and hurries out of court. MRS. + JONES stands looking after him.] + + + The curtain falls. + + + + +End of this Project Gutenberg Etext of THE SILVER BOX (Play) +by John Galsworthy + + + + + + + +JOY + +By John Galsworthy + + + +A PLAY ON THE LETTER "I" + +IN THREE ACTS + + + + +PERSONS OF THE PLAY + +COLONEL HOPE, R.A., retired +MRS. HOPE, his wife +MISS BEECH, their old governess +LETTY, their daughter +ERNEST BLUNT, her husband +MRS. GWYN, their niece +JOY, her daughter +DICK MERTON, their young friend +HON. MAURICE LEVER, their guest +ROSE, their parlour-maid + + + +TIME: The present. The action passes throughout midsummer day on the +lawn of Colonel Hope's house, near the Thames above Oxford. + + +ACT I + + The time is morning, and the scene a level lawn, beyond which + the river is running amongst fields. A huge old beech tree + overshadows everything, in the darkness of whose hollow many + things are hidden. A rustic seat encircles it. A low wall + clothed in creepers, with two openings, divides this lawn from + the flowery approaches to the house. Close to the wall there is + a swing. The sky is clear and sunny. COLONEL HOPE is seated in + a garden-chair, reading a newspaper through pince-nez. He is + fifty-five and bald, with drooping grey moustaches and a + weather-darkened face. He wears a flannel suit and a hat from + Panama; a tennis racquet leans against his chair. MRS. HOPE + comes quickly through the opening of the wall, with roses in her + hands. She is going grey; she wears tan gauntlets, and no hat. + Her manner is decided, her voice emphatic, as though aware that + there is no nonsense in its owner's composition. Screened from + sight, MISS BEECH is seated behind the hollow tree; and JOY is + perched on a lower branch hidden by foliage. + + +MRS. HOPE. I told Molly in my letter that she'd have to walk up, +Tom. + +COLONEL. Walk up in this heat? My dear, why didn't you order +Benson's fly? + +MRS. HOPE. Expense for nothing! Bob can bring up her things in the +barrow. I've told Joy I won't have her going down to meet the train. +She's so excited about her mother's coming there's no doing anything +with her. + +COLONEL. No wonder, after two months. + +MRS. HOPE. Well, she's going home to-morrow; she must just keep +herself fresh for the dancing tonight. I'm not going to get people +in to dance, and have Joy worn out before they begin. + +COLONEL. [Dropping his paper.] I don't like Molly's walking up. + +MRS. HOPE. A great strong woman like Molly Gwyn! It isn't half a +mile. + +COLONEL. I don't like it, Nell; it's not hospitable. + +MRS. HOPE. Rubbish! If you want to throw away money, you must just +find some better investment than those wretched 3 per cents. of +yours. The greenflies are in my roses already! Did you ever see +anything so disgusting? [They bend over the roses they have grown, +and lose all sense of everything.] Where's the syringe? I saw you +mooning about with it last night, Tom. + +COLONEL. [Uneasily.] Mooning! + + [He retires behind his paper. MRS. HOPE enters the hollow of + the tree.] + +There's an account of that West Australian swindle. Set of ruffians! +Listen to this, Nell! "It is understood that amongst the share- +holders are large numbers of women, clergymen, and Army officers." +How people can be such fools! + + [Becoming aware that his absorption is unobserved, he drops his + glasses, and reverses his chair towards the tree.] + +MRS. HOPE. [Reappearing with a garden syringe. I simply won't have +Dick keep his fishing things in the tree; there's a whole potful of +disgusting worms. I can't touch them. You must go and take 'em out, +Tom. + + [In his turn the COLONEL enters the hollow of the tree.] + +MRS. HOPE. [Personally.] What on earth's the pleasure of it? I +can't see! He never catches anything worth eating. + + [The COLONEL reappears with a paint pot full of worms; he holds + them out abstractedly.] + +MRS. HOPE. [Jumping.] Don't put them near me! + +MISS BEECH. [From behind the tree.] Don't hurt the poor creatures. + +COLONEL. [Turning.] Hallo, Peachey? What are you doing round +there? + + [He puts the worms down on the seat.] + +MRS. HOPE. Tom, take the worms off that seat at once! + +COLONEL. [Somewhat flurried.] Good gad! I don't know what to do +with the beastly worms! + +MRS. HOPE. It's not my business to look after Dick's worms. Don't +put them on the ground. I won't have them anywhere where they can +crawl about. [She flicks some greenflies off her roses.] + +COLONEL. [Looking into the pot as though the worms could tell him +where to put them.] Dash! + +MISS BEECH. Give them to me. + +MRS. HOPE. [Relieved.] Yes, give them to Peachey. + + [There comes from round the tree Miss BEECH, old-fashioned, + barrel-shaped, balloony in the skirts. She takes the paint pot, + and sits beside it on the rustic seat.] + +MISS BEECH. Poor creatures! + +MRS. HOPE. Well, it's beyond me how you can make pets of worms- +wriggling, crawling, horrible things! + + [ROSE, who is young and comely, in a pale print frock, comes + from the house and places letters before her on a silver + salver.] + + [Taking the letters.] + +What about Miss joy's frock, Rose? + +ROSE. Please, 'm, I can't get on with the back without Miss Joy. + +MRS. HOPE. Well, then you must just find her. I don't know where +she is. + +ROSE. [In a slow, sidelong manner.] If you please, Mum, I think +Miss Joy's up in the---- + + [She stops, seeing Miss BEECH signing to her with both hands.] + +MRS. HOPE. [Sharply.] What is it, Peachey? + +MISS BEECH. [Selecting a finger.] Pricked meself! + +MRS. HOPE. Let's look! + + [She bends to look, but Miss BEECH places the finger in her + mouth.] + +ROSE. [Glancing askance at the COLONEL.] If you please, Mum, it's +below the waist; I think I can manage with the dummy. + +MRS. HOPE. Well, you can try. [Opening her letter as ROSE retires.] +Here's Molly about her train. + +MISS BEECH. Is there a letter for me? + +MRS. HOPE. No, Peachey. + +MISS BEECH. There never is. + +COLONEL. What's that? You got four by the first post. + +MISS BEECH. Exceptions! + +COLONEL. [Looking over his glasses.] Why! You know, you get 'em +every day! + +MRS. HOPE. Molly says she'll be down by the eleven thirty. [In an +injured voice.] She'll be here in half an hour! [Reading with +disapproval from the letter.] "MAURICE LEVER is coming down by the +same train to see Mr. Henty about the Tocopala Gold Mine. Could you +give him a bed for the night?" + + [Silence, slight but ominous.] + +COLONEL. [Calling into his aid his sacred hospitality.] Of course +we must give him a bed! + +MRS. HOPE. Just like a man! What room I should like to know! + +COLONEL. Pink. + +MRS. HOPE. As if Molly wouldn't have the pink! + +COLONEL. [Ruefully.] I thought she'd have the blue! + +MRS. HOPE. You know perfectly well it's full of earwigs, Tom. I +killed ten there yesterday morning. + +MISS BEECH. Poor creatures! + +MRS. HOPE. I don't know that I approve of this Mr. Lever's dancing +attendance. Molly's only thirty-six. + +COLONEL. [In a high voice.] You can't refuse him a bed; I never +heard of such a thing. + +MRS. HOPE. [Reading from the letter.] "This gold mine seems to be a +splendid chance. [She glances at the COLONEL.] I've put all my +spare cash into it. They're issuing some Preference shares now; if +Uncle Tom wants an investment"--[She pauses, then in a changed, +decided voice ]--Well, I suppose I shall have to screw him in +somehow. + +COLONEL. What's that about gold mines? Gambling nonsense! Molly +ought to know my views. + +MRS. HOPE. [Folding the letter away out of her consciousness.] Oh! +your views! This may be a specially good chance. + +MISS BEECH. Ahem! Special case! + +MRS. HOPE. [Paying no attention.] I 'm sick of these 3 per cent. +dividends. When you've only got so little money, to put it all into +that India Stock, when it might be earning 6 per cent. at least, +quite safely! There are ever so many things I want. + +COLONEL. There you go! + +MRS. HOPE. As to Molly, I think it's high time her husband came home +to look after her, instead of sticking out there in that hot place. +In fact + + [Miss BEECH looks up at the tree and exhibits cerebral + excitement] + +I don't know what Geoff's about; why doesn't he find something in +England, where they could live together. + +COLONEL. Don't say anything against Molly, Nell! + +MRS. HOPE. Well, I don't believe in husband and wife being +separated. That's not my idea of married life. + + [The COLONEL whistles quizzically.] + +Ah, yes, she's your niece, not mime! Molly's very---- + +MISS BEECH. Ouch! [She sucks her finger.] + +MRS. HOPE. Well, if I couldn't sew at your age, Peachey, without +pricking my fingers! Tom, if I have Mr. Lever here, you'll just +attend to what I say and look into that mine! + +COLONEL. Look into your grandmother! I have n't made a study of +geology for nothing. For every ounce you take out of a gold mine, +you put an ounce and a half in. Any fool knows that, eh, Peachey? + +MISS BEECH. I hate your horrid mines, with all the poor creatures +underground. + +MRS. HOPE. Nonsense, Peachey! As if they'd go there if they did n't +want to! + +COLONEL. Why don't you read your paper, then you'd see what a lot of +wild-cat things there are about. + +MRS. HOPE. [Abstractedly.] I can't put Ernest and Letty in the blue +room, there's only the single bed. Suppose I put Mr. Lever there, +and say nothing about the earwigs. I daresay he'll never notice. + +COLONEL. Treat a guest like that! + +MRS. HOPE. Then where am I to put him for goodness sake? + +COLONEL. Put him in my dressing-room, I'll turn out. + +MRS. HOPE. Rubbish, Tom, I won't have you turned out, that's flat. +He can have Joy's room, and she can sleep with the earwigs. + +JOY. [From her hiding-place upon a lower branch of the hollow tree.] +I won't. + + [MRS. HOPE and the COLONEL jump.] + +COLONEL. God bless my soul! + +MRS. HOPE. You wretched girl! I told you never to climb that tree +again. Did you know, Peachey? [Miss BEECH smiles.] She's always up +there, spoiling all her frocks. Come down now, Joy; there's a good +child! + +JOY. I don't want to sleep with earwigs, Aunt Nell. + +MISS BEECH. I'll sleep with the poor creatures. + +MRS. HOPE, [After a pause.] Well, it would be a mercy if you would +for once, Peachey. + +COLONEL. Nonsense, I won't have Peachey---- + +MRS. HOPE. Well, who is to sleep there then? + +JOY. [Coaxingly.] Let me sleep with Mother, Aunt Nell, do! + +MRS. HOPE. Litter her up with a great girl like you, as if we'd only +one spare room! Tom, see that she comes down--I can't stay here, I +must manage something. [She goes away towards the house.] + +COLONEL. [Moving to the tree, and looking up.] You heard what your +aunt said? + +JOY. [Softly.] Oh, Uncle Tom! + +COLONEL. I shall have to come up after you. + +JOY. Oh, do, and Peachey too! + +COLONEL. [Trying to restrain a smile.] Peachey, you talk to her. +[Without waiting for MISS BEECH, however, he proceeds.] What'll your +aunt say to me if I don't get you down? + +MISS BEECH. Poor creature! + +JOY. I don't want to be worried about my frock. + +COLONEL. [Scratching his bald head.] Well, I shall catch it. + +JOY. Oh, Uncle Tom, your head is so beautiful from here! [Leaning +over, she fans it with a leafy twig.] + +MISS BEECH. Disrespectful little toad! + +COLONEL. [Quickly putting on his hat.] You'll fall out, and a +pretty mess that'll make on--[he looks uneasily at the ground]--my +lawn! + + [A voice is heard calling "Colonel! Colonel!]" + +JOY. There's Dick calling you, Uncle Tom. + + [She disappears.] + +DICK. [Appearing in the opening of the wall.] Ernie's waiting to +play you that single, Colonel! + + [He disappears.] + +JOY. Quick, Uncle Tom! Oh! do go, before he finds I 'm up here. + +MISS. BEECH. Secret little creature! + + [The COLONEL picks up his racquet, shakes his fist, and goes + away.] + +JOY. [Calmly.] I'm coming down now, Peachey. + + [Climbing down.] + +Look out! I'm dropping on your head. + +MISS BEECH. [Unmoved.] Don't hurt yourself! + + [Joy drops on the rustic seat and rubs her shin. Told you so!] + + [She hunts in a little bag for plaster.] + +Let's see! + +JOY. [Seeing the worms.] Ugh! + +MISS BEECH. What's the matter with the poor creatures? + +JOY. They're so wriggly! + + [She backs away and sits down in the swing. She is just + seventeen, light and slim, brown-haired, fresh-coloured, and + grey-eyed; her white frock reaches to her ankles, she wears a + sunbonnet.] Peachey, how long were you Mother's governess. + +MISS BEECH. Five years. + +JOY. Was she as bad to teach as me? + +MISS BEECH. Worse! + + [Joy claps her hands.] + +She was the worst girl I ever taught. + +JOY. Then you weren't fond of her? + +MISS BEECH. Oh! yes, I was. + +JOY. Fonder than of me? + +MISS BEECH. Don't you ask such a lot of questions. + +JOY. Peachey, duckie, what was Mother's worst fault? + +MISS BEECH. Doing what she knew she oughtn't. + +JOY. Was she ever sorry? + +MISS BEECH. Yes, but she always went on doin' it. + +JOY. I think being sorry 's stupid! + +MISS BEECH. Oh, do you? + +JOY. It isn't any good. Was Mother revengeful, like me? + +MISS BEECH. Ah! Wasn't she? + +JOY. And jealous? + +MISS BEECH. The most jealous girl I ever saw. + +JOY. [Nodding.] I like to be like her. + +MISS BEECH. [Regarding her intently.] Yes! you've got all your +troubles before you. + +JOY. Mother was married at eighteen, wasn't she, Peachey? Was she-- +was she much in love with Father then? + +MISS BEECH. [With a sniff.] About as much as usual. [She takes the +paint pot, and walking round begins to release the worms.] + +JOY. [Indifferently.] They don't get on now, you know. + +MISS BEECH. What d'you mean by that, disrespectful little creature? + +JOY. [In a hard voice.] They haven't ever since I've known them. +MISS BEECH. [Looks at her, and turns away again.] Don't talk about +such things. + +JOY. I suppose you don't know Mr. Lever? [Bitterly.] He's such a +cool beast. He never loses his temper. + +MISS BEECH. Is that why you don't like him? + +JOY. [Frowning.] No--yes--I don't know. + +MISS BEECH. Oh! perhaps you do like him? + +JOY. I don't; I hate him. + +MISS BEECH. [Standing still.] Fie! Naughty Temper! + +JOY. Well, so would you! He takes up all Mother's time. + +MISS BEECH. [In a peculiar voice.] Oh! does he? + +JOY. When he comes I might just as well go to bed. [Passionately.] +And now he's chosen to-day to come down here, when I haven't seen her +for two months! Why couldn't he come when Mother and I'd gone home. +It's simply brutal! + +MISS BEECH. But your mother likes him? + +JOY. [Sullenly.] I don't want her to like him. + +MISS BEECH. [With a long look at Joy.] I see! + +JOY. What are you doing, Peachey? + +MISS BEECH. [Releasing a worm.] Letting the poor creatures go. + +JOY. If I tell Dick he'll never forgive you. + +MISS BEECH. [Sidling behind the swing and plucking off Joy's +sunbonnet. With devilry.] Ah-h-h! You've done your hair up; so +that's why you wouldn't come down! + +JOY. [Springing up, anal pouting.] I didn't want any one to see +before Mother. You are a pig, Peachey! + +MISS BEECH. I thought there was something! + +JOY. [Twisting round.] How does it look? + +MISS BEECH. I've seen better. + +JOY. You tell any one before Mother comes, and see what I do! + +MISS BEECH. Well, don't you tell about my worms, then! + +JOY. Give me my hat! [Backing hastily towards the tree, and putting +her finger to her lips.] Look out! Dick! + +MISS BEECH. Oh! dear! + + [She sits down on the swing, concealing the paint pot with her + feet and skirts.] + +JOY. [On the rustic seat, and in a violent whisper.] I hope the +worms will crawl up your legs! + + [DICK, in flannels and a hard straw hat comes in. He is a quiet + and cheerful boy of twenty. His eyes are always fixed on joy.] + +DICK. [Grimacing.] The Colonel's getting licked. Hallo! Peachey, +in the swing? + +JOY. [Chuckling.] Swing her, Dick! + +MISS BEECH. [Quivering with emotion.] Little creature! + +JOY. Swing her! + + [DICK takes the ropes.] + +MISS BEECH. [Quietly.] It makes me sick, young man. + +DICK. [Patting her gently on the back.] All right, Peachey. + +MISS BEECH. [Maliciously.] Could you get me my sewing from the +seat? Just behind Joy. + +JOY. [Leaning her head against the tree.] If you do, I won't dance +with you to-night. + + [DICK stands paralysed. Miss BEECH gets off the swing, picks up + the paint pot, and stands concealing it behind her.] + +JOY. Look what she's got behind her, sly old thing! + +MISS BEECH. Oh! dear! + +JOY. Dance with her, Dick! + +MISS BEECH. If he dare! + +JOY. Dance with her, or I won't dance with you to-night. +[She whistles a waltz.] + +DICK. [Desperately.] Come on then, Peachey. We must. + +JOY. Dance, dance! + + [DICK seizes Miss BEECH by the waist. She drops the paint pot. + They revolve.] [Convulsed.] + +Oh, Peachey, Oh! + + [Miss BEECH is dropped upon the rustic seat. DICK seizes joy's + hands and drags her up.] + +No, no! I won't! + +MISS BEECH. [Panting.] Dance, dance with the poor young man! [She +moves her hands.] La la-la-la la-la la la! + + [DICK and JOY dance.] + +DICK. By Jove, Joy! You've done your hair up. I say, how jolly! +You do look---- + +JOY. [Throwing her hands up to her hair.] I did n't mean you to +see! + +DICK. [In a hurt voice.] Oh! didn't you? I'm awfully sorry! + +JOY. [Flashing round.] Oh, you old Peachey! + + [She looks at the ground, and then again at DICK.] + +MISS BEECH. [Sidling round the tree.] Oh! dear! + +JOY. [Whispering.] She's been letting out your worms. +[Miss BEECH disappears from view.] +Look! + +DICK. [Quickly.] Hang the worms! Joy, promise me the second and +fourth and sixth and eighth and tenth and supper, to-night. Promise! +Do! + + [Joy shakes her head.] + +It's not much to ask. + +JOY. I won't promise anything. + +DICK. Why not? + +JOY. Because Mother's coming. I won't make any arrangements. + +DICK. [Tragically.] It's our last night. + +JOY. [Scornfully.] You don't understand! [Dancing and clasping her +hands.] Mother's coming, Mother's coming! + +DICK. [Violently.] I wish----Promise, Joy! + +JOY. [Looking over her shoulder.] Sly old thing! If you'll pay +Peachey out, I'll promise you supper! + +MISS BEECH. [From behind the tree.] I hear you. + +JOY. [Whispering.] Pay her out, pay her out! She's let out all +your worms! + +DICK. [Looking moodily at the paint pot.] I say, is it true that +Maurice Lever's coming with your mother? I've met him playing +cricket, he's rather a good sort. + +JOY. [Flashing out.] I hate him. + +DICK. [Troubled.] Do you? Why? I thought--I didn't know--if I'd +known of course, I'd have---- + + [He is going to say "hated him too!" But the voices of ERNEST + BLUNT and the COLONEL are heard approaching, in dispute.] + +JOY. Oh! Dick, hide me, I don't want my hair seen till Mother +comes. + + [She springs into the hollow tree. The COLONEL and ERNEST + appear in the opening of the wall.] + +ERNEST. The ball was out, Colonel. + +COLONEL. Nothing of the sort. + +ERNEST. A good foot out. + +COLONEL. It was not, sir. I saw the chalk fly. + + [ERNEST is twenty-eight, with a little moustache, and the + positive cool voice of a young man who knows that he knows + everything. He is perfectly calm.] + +ERNEST. I was nearer to it than you. + +COLONEL. [In a high, hot voice.] I don't care where you were, I +hate a fellow who can't keep cool. + +MISS BEECH. [From behind the hollow tree.] Fie! Fie! + +ERNEST. We're two to one, Letty says the ball was out. + +COLONEL. Letty's your wife, she'd say anything. + +ERNEST. Well, look here, Colonel, I'll show you the very place it +pitched. + +COLONEL. Gammon! You've lost your temper, you don't know what +you're talking about. + +ERNEST. [coolly.] I suppose you'll admit the rule that one umpires +one's own court. + +COLONEL. [Hotly.] Certainly not, in this case! + +MISS BEECH. [From behind the hollow tree.] Special case! + +ERNEST. [Moving chin in collar--very coolly.] Well, of course if +you won't play the game! + +COLONEL. [In a towering passion.] If you lose your temper like +this, I 'll never play with you again. + + [To LETTY, a pretty soul in a linen suit, approaching through + the wall.] + +Do you mean to say that ball was out, Letty? + +LETTY. Of course it was, Father. + +COLONEL. You say that because he's your husband. [He sits on the +rustic seat.] If your mother'd been there she'd have backed me up! + +LETTY. Mother wants Joy, Dick, about her frock. + +DICK. I--I don't know where she is. + +MISS BEECH. [From behind the hollow tree.] Ahem! + +LETTY. What's the matter, Peachey? + +MISS BEECH. Swallowed a fly. Poor creature! + +ERNEST. [Returning to his point.] Why I know the ball was out, +Colonel, was because it pitched in a line with that arbutus tree. + +COLONEL. [Rising.] Arbutus tree! [To his daughter.] Where's your +mother? + +LETTY. In the blue room, Father. + +ERNEST. The ball was a good foot out; at the height it was coming +when it passed me. + +COLONEL. [Staring at him.] You're a--you're aa theorist! From +where you were you could n't see the ball at all. [To LETTY.] +Where's your mother? + +LETTY. [Emphatically.] In the blue room, Father! + + [The COLONEL glares confusedly, and goes away towards the blue + room.] + +ERNEST. [In the swing, and with a smile.] Your old Dad'll never be +a sportsman! + +LETTY. [Indignantly.] I wish you wouldn't call Father old, Ernie! +What time's Molly coming, Peachey? + + [ROSE has come from the house, and stands waiting for a chance + to speak.] + +ERNEST. [Breaking in.] Your old Dad's only got one fault: he can't +take an impersonal view of things. + +MISS BEECH. Can you find me any one who can? + +ERNEST. [With a smile.] Well, Peachey! + +MISS BEECH. [Ironically.] Oh! of course, there's you! + +ERNEST. I don't know about that! But---- + +ROSE. [To LETTY,] Please, Miss, the Missis says will you and Mr. +Ernest please to move your things into Miss Peachey's room. + +ERNEST. [Vexed.] Deuce of a nuisance havin' to turn out for this +fellow Lever. What did Molly want to bring him for? + +MISS BEECH. Course you've no personal feeling in the matter! + +ROSE. [Speaking to Miss BEECH.] The Missis says you're to please +move your things into the blue room, please Miss. + +LETTY. Aha, Peachey! That settles you! Come on, Ernie! + + [She goes towards the house. ERNEST, rising from the swing, + turns to Miss BEECH, who follows.] + +ERNEST. [Smiling, faintly superior.] Personal, not a bit! I only +think while Molly 's out at grass, she oughtn't to---- + +MISS BEECH. [Sharply.] Oh! do you? + + [She hustles ERNEST out through the wall, but his voice is heard + faintly from the distance: "I think it's jolly thin."] + +ROSE. [To DICK.] The Missis says you're to take all your worms and +things, Sir, and put them where they won't be seen. + +DICK. [Shortly.] Have n't got any! + +ROSE. The Missis says she'll be very angry if you don't put your +worms away; and would you come and help kill earwigs in the blue----? + +DICK. Hang! [He goes, and ROSE is left alone.] + +ROSE. [Looking straight before her.] Please, Miss Joy, the Missis +says will you go to her about your frock. + + [There is a little pause, then from the hollow tree joy's voice + is heard.] + +JOY. No-o! + +ROSE. If you did n't come, I was to tell you she was going to put +you in the blue. + + [Joy looks out of the tree.] + + [Immovable, but smiling.] + +Oh, Miss joy, you've done your hair up! [Joy retires into the tree.] +Please, Miss, what shall I tell the Missis? + +JOY. [Joy's voice is heard.] Anything you like. + +ROSE. [Over her shoulder.] I shall be drove to tell her a story, +Miss. + +JOY. All right! Tell it. + + [ROSE goes away, and JOY comes out. She sits on the rustic seat + and waits. DICK, coming softly from the house, approaches her.] + +DICK. [Looking at her intently.] Joy! I wanted to say something + + [Joy does not look at him, but twists her fingers.] + +I shan't see you again you know after to-morrow till I come up for +the 'Varsity match. + +JOY. [Smiling.] But that's next week. + +DICK. Must you go home to-morrow? + + [Joy nods three times.] + + [Coming closer.] + +I shall miss you so awfully. You don't know how I---- + + [Joy shakes her head.] + +Do look at me! [JOY steals a look.] Oh! Joy! + + [Again joy shakes her head.] + +JOY. [Suddenly.] Don't! + +DICK. [Seizing her hand.] Oh, Joy! Can't you---- + +JOY. [Drawing the hand away.] Oh! don't. + +DICK. [Bending his head.] It's--it's--so---- + +JOY. [Quietly.] Don't, Dick! + +DICK. But I can't help it! It's too much for me, Joy, I must tell +you---- + + [MRS. GWYN is seen approaching towards the house.] + +JOY. [Spinning round.] It's Mother--oh, Mother! +[She rushes at her.] + + [MRS. GWYN is a handsome creature of thirty-six, dressed in a + muslin frock. She twists her daughter round, and kisses her.] + +MRS. GWYN. How sweet you look with your hair up, Joy! Who 's this? +[Glancing with a smile at DICK.] + +JOY. Dick Merton--in my letters you know. + + [She looks at DICK as though she wished him gone.] + +MRS. GWYN. How do you do? + +DICK. [Shaking hands.] How d 'you do? I think if you'll excuse me +--I'll go in. + + [He goes uncertainly. + +MRS. GWYN. What's the matter with him? + +JOY. Oh, nothing! [Hugging her.] Mother! You do look such a duck. +Why did you come by the towing-path, was n't it cooking? + +MRS. GWYN. [Avoiding her eyes.] Mr. Lever wanted to go into Mr. +Henty's. + + [Her manner is rather artificially composed.] + +JOY. [Dully.] Oh! Is he-is he really coming here, Mother? + +MRS. GWYN. [Whose voice has hardened just a little.] If Aunt Nell's +got a room for him--of course--why not? + +JOY. [Digging her chin into her mother's shoulder.] + + [Why couldn't he choose some day when we'd gone? I wanted you + all to myself.] + +MRS. GWYN. You are a quaint child--when I was your age---- + +JOY. [Suddenly looking up.] Oh! Mother, you must have been a +chook! + +MRS. GWYN. Well, I was about twice as old as you, I know that. + +JOY. Had you any--any other offers before you were married, Mother? + +MRS. GWYN. [Smilingly.] Heaps! + +JOY. [Reflectively.] Oh! + +MRS. GWYN. Why? Have you been having any? + +JOY. [Glancing at MRS. GWYN, and then down.] N-o, of course not! + +MRS. GWYN. Where are they all? Where's Peachey? + +JOY. Fussing about somewhere; don't let's hurry! Oh! you duckie-- +duckie! Aren't there any letters from Dad? + +MRS. GWYN. [In a harder voice.] Yes, one or two. + +JOY. [Hesitating.] Can't I see? + +MRS. GWYN. I didn't bring them. [Changing the subject obviously.] +Help me to tidy--I'm so hot I don't know what to do. + + [She takes out a powder-puff bag, with a tiny looking-glass.] + +JOY. How lovely it'll be to-morrow-going home! + +MRS. GWYN. [With an uneasy look.] London's dreadfully stuffy, Joy. +You 'll only get knocked up again. + +JOY. [With consternation.] Oh! but Mother, I must come. + +MRS. GWYN. (Forcing a smile.) Oh, well, if you must, you must! + + [Joy makes a dash at her.] + +Don't rumple me again. Here's Uncle Tom. + +JOY. [Quickly.] Mother, we're going to dance tonight; promise to +dance with me--there are three more girls than men, at least--and +don't dance too much with--with--you know--because I'm--[dropping her +voice and very still]--jealous. + +MRS. GWYN. [Forcing a laugh.] You are funny! + +JOY. [Very quickly.] I haven't made any engagements because of you. + + [The COLONEL approaches through the wall.] + +MRS. GWYN. Well, Uncle Tom? + +COLONEL. [Genially.] Why, Molly! [He kisses her.] What made you +come by the towing-path? + +JOY. Because it's so much cooler, of course. + +COLONEL. Hallo! What's the matter with you? Phew! you've got your +hair up! Go and tell your aunt your mother's on the lawn. Cut +along! + + [Joy goes, blowing a kiss.] + +Cracked about you, Molly! Simply cracked! We shall miss her when +you take her off to-morrow. [He places a chair for her.] Sit down, +sit down, you must be tired in this heat. I 've sent Bob for your +things with the wheelbarrow; what have you got?--only a bag, I +suppose. + +MRS. GWYN. [Sitting, with a smile.] That's all, Uncle Tom, except-- +my trunk and hat-box. + +COLONEL. Phew! And what's-his-name brought a bag, I suppose? + +MRS. GWYN. They're all together. I hope it's not too much, Uncle +Tom. + +COLONEL. [Dubiously.] Oh! Bob'll manage! I suppose you see a good +deal of--of--Lever. That's his brother in the Guards, isn't it? + +MRS. GWYN. Yes. + +COLONEL. Now what does this chap do? + +MRS. GWYN. What should he do, Uncle Tom? He's a Director. + +COLONEL. Guinea-pig! [Dubiously.] Your bringing him down was a +good idea. + + [MRS. GWYN, looking at him sidelong, bites her lips.] + +I should like to have a look at him. But, I say, you know, Molly-- +mines, mines! There are a lot of these chaps about, whose business +is to cook their own dinners. Your aunt thinks---- + +MRS. GWYN. Oh! Uncle Tom, don't tell me what Aunt Nell thinks! + +COLONEL. Well-well! Look here, old girl! It's my experience never +to--what I mean is--never to trust too much to a man who has to do +with mining. I've always refused to have anything to do with mines. +If your husband were in England, of course, I'd say nothing. + +MRS. GWYN. [Very still.] We'd better keep him out of the question, +had n't we? + +COLONEL. Of course, if you wish it, my dear. + +MRS. GWYN. Unfortunately, I do. + +COLONEL. [Nervously.] Ah! yes, I know; but look here, Molly, your +aunt thinks you're in a very delicate position-in fact, she thinks +you see too much of young Lever. + +MRS. GWYN. [Stretching herself like an angry cat.] Does she? And +what do you think? + +COLONEL. I? I make a point of not thinking. I only know that here +he is, and I don't want you to go burning your fingers, eh? + + [MRS. GWYN sits with a vindictive smile.] + +A gold mine's a gold mine. I don't mean he deliberately--but they +take in women and parsons, and--and all sorts of fools. [Looking +down.] And then, you know, I can't tell your feelings, my dear, and +I don't want to; but a man about town 'll compromise a woman as soon +as he'll look at her, and [softly shaking his head] I don't like +that, Molly! It 's not the thing! + + [MRS. GWYN sits unmoved, smiling the same smile, and the COLONEL + gives her a nervous look.] + +If--if you were any other woman I should n't care--and if--if you +were a plain woman, damme, you might do what you liked! I know you +and Geoff don't get on; but here's this child of yours, devoted to +you, and--and don't you see, old girl? Eh? + +MRS. GWYN. [With a little hard laugh.] Thanks! Perfectly! I +suppose as you don't think, Uncle Tom, it never occurred to you that +I have rather a lonely time of it. + +COLONEL. [With compunction.] Oh! my dear, yes, of course I know it +must be beastly. + +MRS. GWYN. [Stonily.] It is. + +COLONEL. Yes, yes! [Speaking in a surprised voice.] I don't know +what I 'm talking like this for! It's your aunt! She goes on at me +till she gets on my nerves. What d' you think she wants me to do +now? Put money into this gold mine! Did you ever hear such folly? + +MRS. GWYN. [Breaking into laughter.] Oh! Uncle Tom! + +COLONEL. All very well for you to laugh, Molly! + +MRS. GWYN. [Calmly.] And how much are you going to put in? + +COLONEL. Not a farthing! Why, I've got nothing but my pension and +three thousand India stock! + +MRS. GWYN. Only ninety pounds a year, besides your pension! D' you +mean to say that's all you've got, Uncle Tom? I never knew that +before. What a shame! + +COLONEL. [Feelingly.] It is a, d--d shame! I don't suppose there's +another case in the army of a man being treated as I've been. + +MRS. GWYN. But how on earth do you manage here on so little? + +COLONEL. [Brooding.] Your aunt's very funny. She's a born manager. +She 'd manage the hind leg off a donkey; but if I want five shillings +for a charity or what not, I have to whistle for it. And then all of +a sudden, Molly, she'll take it into her head to spend goodness knows +what on some trumpery or other and come to me for the money. If I +have n't got it to give her, out she flies about 3 per cent., and +worries me to invest in some wild-cat or other, like your friend's +thing, the Jaco what is it? I don't pay the slightest attention to +her. + +MRS. HOPE. [From the direction of the house.] Tom! + +COLONEL. [Rising.] Yes, dear! [Then dropping his voice.] I say, +Molly, don't you mind what I said about young Lever. I don't want +you to imagine that I think harm of people--you know I don't--but so +many women come to grief, and--[hotly]--I can't stand men about town; +not that he of course---- + +MRS. HOPE, [Peremptorily.] Tom! + +COLONEL. [In hasty confidence.] I find it best to let your aunt run +on. If she says anything---- + +MRS. HOPE. To-om! + +COLONEL. Yes, dear! + + [He goes hastily. MRS. GWYN sits drawing circles on the ground + with her charming parasol. Suddenly she springs to her feet, + and stands waiting like an animal at bay. The COLONEL and MRS. + HOPE approach her talking.] + +MRS. HOPE. Well, how was I to know? + +COLONEL. Did n't Joy come and tell you? + +MRS. HOPE. I don't know what's the matter with that child? Well, +Molly, so here you are. You're before your time--that train's always +late. + +MRS. GWYN. [With faint irony.] I'm sorry, Aunt Nell! + + [They bob, seem to take fright, and kiss each other gingerly.] + +MRS. HOPE. What have you done with Mr. Lever? I shall have to put +him in Peachey's room. Tom's got no champagne. + +COLONEL. They've a very decent brand down at the George, Molly, I'll +send Bob over---- + +MRS. HOPE. Rubbish, Tom! He'll just have to put up with what he can +get! + +MRS. GWYN. Of course! He's not a snob! For goodness sake, Aunt +Nell, don't put yourself out! I'm sorry I suggested his coming. + +COLONEL. My dear, we ought to have champagne in the house--in case +of accident. + +MRS. GWYN. [Shaking him gently by the coat.] No, please, Uncle +Tom! + +MRS. HOPE. [Suddenly.] Now, I've told your uncle, Molly, that he's +not to go in for this gold mine without making certain it's a good +thing. Mind, I think you've been very rash. I'm going to give you a +good talking to; and that's not all--you ought n't to go about like +this with a young man; he's not at all bad looking. I remember him +perfectly well at the Fleming's dance. + + [On MRS. GWYN's lips there comes a little mocking smile.] + +COLONEL. [Pulling his wife's sleeve.] Nell! + +MRS. HOPE. No, Tom, I'm going to talk to Molly; she's old enough to +know better. + +MRS. GWYN. Yes? + +MRS. HOPE. Yes, and you'll get yourself into a mess; I don't approve +of it, and when I see a thing I don't approve of---- + +COLONEL. [Walking about, and pulling his moustache.] Nell, I won't +have it, I simply won't have it. + +MRS. HOPE. What rate of interest are these Preference shares to pay? + +MRS. GWYN. [Still smiling.] Ten per cent. + +MRS. HOPE. What did I tell you, Tom? And are they safe? + +MRS. GWYN. You'd better ask Maurice. + +MRS. HOPE. There, you see, you call him Maurice! Now supposing your +uncle went in for some of them---- + +COLONEL. [Taking off his hat-in a high, hot voice] I'm not going in +for anything of the sort. + +MRS. HOPE. Don't swing your hat by the brim! Go and look if you can +see him coming! + + [The COLONEL goes.] + +[In a lower voice.] Your uncle's getting very bald. I 've only +shoulder of lamb for lunch, and a salad. It's lucky it's too hot to +eat. + + [MISS BEECH has appeared while she is speaking.] + +Here she is, Peachey! + +MISS BEECH. I see her. [She kisses MRS. GWYN, and looks at her +intently.] + +MRS. GWYN. [Shrugging her shoulders.] Well, Peachey! What d 'you +make of me? + +COLONEL. [Returning from his search.] There's a white hat crossing +the second stile. Is that your friend, Molly? + + [MRS. GWYN nods.] + +MRS. HOPE. Oh! before I forget, Peachey--Letty and Ernest can move +their things back again. I'm going to put Mr. Lever in your room. +[Catching sight o f the paint pot on the ground.] There's that +disgusting paint pot! Take it up at once, Tom, and put it in the +tree. + + [The COLONEL picks up the pot and bears it to the hollow tree + followed by MRS. HOPE; he enters.] + +MRS. HOPE. [Speaking into the tree.] Not there! + +COLONEL. [From within.] Well, where then? + +MRS. HOPE. Why--up--oh! gracious! + + [MRS. GWYN, standing alone, is smiling. LEVER approaches from + the towing-path. He is a man like a fencer's wrist, supple and + steely. A man whose age is difficult to tell, with a quick, + good-looking face, and a line between his brows; his darkish + hair is flecked with grey. He gives the feeling that he has + always had to spurt to keep pace with his own life.] + +MRS. HOPE. [Also entering the hollow tree.] No-oh! + +COLONEL. [From the depths, in a high voice.] Well, dash it then! +What do you want? + +MRS. GWYN. Peachey, may I introduce Mr. Lever to you? Miss Beech, +my old governess. + + [They shake each other by the hand.] + +LEVER. How do you do? [His voice is pleasant, his manner easy.] + +MISS BEECH. Pleased to meet you. + + [Her manner is that of one who is not pleased. She watches.] + +MRS. GWYN. [Pointing to the tree-maliciously.] This is my uncle and +my aunt. They're taking exercise, I think. + + [The COLONEL and MRS. HOPE emerge convulsively. They are very + hot. LEVER and MRS. GWYN are very cool.] + +MRS. HOPE. [Shaking hands with him.] So you 've got here! Are n't +you very hot?--Tom! + +COLONEL. Brought a splendid day with you! Splendid! + + [As he speaks, Joy comes running with a bunch of roses; seeing + LEVER, she stops and stands quite rigid.] + +MISS BEECH. [Sitting in the swing.] Thunder! + +COLONEL. Thunder? Nonsense, Peachey, you're always imagining +something. Look at the sky! + +MISS BEECH. Thunder! + + [MRS. GWYN's smile has faded. ] + +MRS. HOPE. [Turning.] Joy, don't you see Mr. Lever? + + [Joy, turning to her mother, gives her the roses. With a forced + smile, LEVER advances, holding out his hand.] + +LEVER. How are you, Joy? Have n't seen you for an age! + +JOY. [Without expression.] I am very well, thank you. + + [She raises her hand, and just touches his. MRS. GWYN'S eyes + are fixed on her daughter. Miss BEECH is watching them + intently. MRS. HOPE is buttoning the COLONEL'S coat.] + + + The curtain falls. + + + + + +ACT II + + It is afternoon, and at a garden-table placed beneath the hollow + tree, the COLONEL is poring over plans. Astride of a garden- + chair, LEVER is smoking cigarettes. DICK is hanging Chinese + lanterns to the hollow tree. + +LEVER. Of course, if this level [pointing with his cigarette] +peters out to the West we shall be in a tightish place; you know what +a mine is at this stage, Colonel Hope. + +COLONEL. [Absently.] Yes, yes. [Tracing a line.] What is there to +prevent its running out here to the East? + +LEVER. Well, nothing, except that as a matter of fact it doesn't. + +COLONEL. [With some excitement.] I'm very glad you showed me these +papers, very glad! I say that it's a most astonishing thing if the +ore suddenly stops there. [A gleam of humour visits LEVER'S face.] +I'm not an expert, but you ought to prove that ground to the East +more thoroughly. + +LEVER. [Quizzically.] Of course, sir, if you advise that---- + +COLONEL. If it were mine, I'd no more sit down under the belief that +the ore stopped there than I 'd---There's a harmony in these things. + +NEVER. I can only tell you what our experts say. + +COLONEL. Ah! Experts! No faith in them--never had! Miners, +lawyers, theologians, cowardly lot--pays them to be cowardly. When +they have n't their own axes to grind, they've got their theories; a +theory's a dangerous thing. [He loses himself in contemplation of +the papers.] Now my theory is, you 're in strata here of what we +call the Triassic Age. + +LEVER. [Smiling faintly.] Ah! + +COLONEL. You've struck a fault, that's what's happened. The ore may +be as much as thirty or forty yards out; but it 's there, depend on +it. + +LEVER. Would you back that opinion, sir? + +COLONEL. [With dignity.] I never give an opinion that I'm not +prepared to back. I want to get to the bottom of this. What's to +prevent the gold going down indefinitely? + +LEVER. Nothing, so far as I know. + +COLONEL. [With suspicion.] Eh! + +LEVER. All I can tell you is: This is as far as we've got, and we +want more money before we can get any farther. + +COLONEL. [Absently.] Yes, yes; that's very usual. + +LEVER. If you ask my personal opinion I think it's very doubtful +that the gold does go down. + +COLONEL. [Smiling.] Oh! a personal opinion a matter of this sort! + +LEVER. [As though about to take the papers.] Perhaps we'd better +close the sitting, sir; sorry to have bored you. + +COLONEL. Now, now! Don't be so touchy! If I'm to put money in, I'm +bound to look at it all round. + +LEVER. [With lifted brows.] Please don't imagine that I want you to +put money in. + +COLONEL. Confound it, sir! D 'you suppose I take you for a Company +promoter? + +LEVER. Thank you! + +COLONEL. [Looking at him doubtfully.] You've got Irish blood in +you--um? You're so hasty! + +LEVER. If you 're really thinking of taking shares--my advice to you +is, don't! + +COLONEL. [Regretfully.] If this were an ordinary gold mine, I +wouldn't dream of looking at it, I want you to understand that. +Nobody has a greater objection to gold mines than I. + +LEVER. [Looks down at his host with half-closed eyes.] But it is a +gold mine, Colonel Hope. + +COLONEL. I know, I know; but I 've been into it for myself; I've +formed my opinion personally. Now, what 's the reason you don't want +me to invest? + +LEVER. Well, if it doesn't turn out as you expect, you'll say it's +my doing. I know what investors are. + +COLONEL. [Dubiously.] If it were a Westralian or a Kaffir I would +n't touch it with a pair of tongs! It 's not as if I were going to +put much in! [He suddenly bends above the papers as though +magnetically attracted.] I like these Triassic formations! + + [DICK, who has hung the last lantern, moodily departs.] + +LEVER. [Looking after him.] That young man seems depressed. + +COLONEL. [As though remembering his principles.] I don't like +mines, never have! [Suddenly absorbed again.] I tell you what, +Lever--this thing's got tremendous possibilities. You don't seem to +believe in it enough. No mine's any good without faith; until I see +for myself, however, I shan't commit myself beyond a thousand. + +LEVER. Are you serious, sir? + +COLONEL. Certainly! I've been thinking it over ever since you told +me Henty had fought shy. I 've a poor opinion of Henty. He's one of +those fellows that says one thing and does another. An opportunist! + +LEVER. [Slowly.] I'm afraid we're all that, more or less. [He sits +beneath the hollow tree.] + +COLONEL. A man never knows what he is himself. There 's my wife. +She thinks she 's----By the way, don't say anything to her about +this, please. And, Lever [nervously], I don't think, you know, this +is quite the sort of thing for my niece. + +LEVER. [Quietly.] I agree. I mean to get her out of it. + +COLONEL. [A little taken aback.] Ah! You know, she--she's in a +very delicate position, living by herself in London. [LEVER looks at +him ironically.] You [very nervously] see a good deal of her? If +it had n't been for Joy growing so fast, we shouldn't have had the +child down here. Her mother ought to have her with her. Eh! Don't +you think so? + +LEVER. [Forcing a smile.] Mrs. Gwyn always seems to me to get on +all right. + +COLONEL. [As though making a discovery.] You know, I've found that +when a woman's living alone and unprotected, the very least thing +will set a lot of hags and jackanapes talking. [Hotly.] The more +unprotected and helpless a woman is, the more they revel in it. If +there's anything I hate in this world, it's those wretched creatures +who babble about their neighbours' affairs. + +LEVER. I agree with you. + +COLONEL. One ought to be very careful not to give them--that is---- +[checks himself confused; then hurrying on]--I suppose you and Joy +get on all right? + +LEVER. [Coolly.] Pretty well, thanks. I'm not exactly in Joy's +line; have n't seen very much of her, in fact. + + [Miss BEECH and JOY have been approaching from the house. But + seeing LEVER, JOY turns abruptly, hesitates a moment, and with + an angry gesture goes away.] + +COLONEL [Unconscious.] Wonderfully affectionate little thing! Well, +she'll be going home to-morrow! + +MISS BEECH. [Who has been gazing after JOY.] Talkin' business, poor +creatures? + +LEVER. Oh, no! If you'll excuse me, I'll wash my hands before tea. + + [He glances at the COLONEL poring over papers, and, shrugging + his shoulders, strolls away.] + +MISS BEECH. [Sitting in the swing.] I see your horrid papers. + +COLONEL. Be quiet, Peachey! + +MISS BEECH. On a beautiful summer's day, too. + +COLONEL. That'll do now. + +MISS BEECH. [Unmoved.] For every ounce you take out of a gold mine +you put two in. + +COLONEL. Who told you that rubbish? + +MISS BEECH. [With devilry.] You did! + +COLONEL. This is n't an ordinary gold mine. + +MISS BEECH. Oh! quite a special thing. + + [COLONEL stares at her, but subsiding at hey impassivity, he + pores again over the papers.] + + [Rosy has approached with a tea cloth.] + +ROSE. If you please, sir, the Missis told me to lay the tea. + +COLONEL. Go away! Ten fives fifty. Ten 5 16ths, Peachey? + +MISS BEECH. I hate your nasty sums! + + [ROSE goes away. The COLONEL Writes. MRS. HOPE'S voice is + heard, "Now then, bring those chairs, you two. Not that one, + Ernest." ERNEST arid LETTY appear through the openings of the + wall, each with a chair.] + +COLONEL. [With dull exasperation.] What do you want? + +LETTY. Tea, Father. + + [She places her chair arid goes away.] + +ERNEST. That Johnny-bird Lever is too cocksure for me, Colonel. +Those South American things are no good at all. I know all about +them from young Scrotton. There's not one that's worth a red cent. +If you want a flutter---- + +COLONEL. [Explosively.] Flutter! I'm not a gambler, sir! + +ERNEST. Well, Colonel [with a smile], I only don't want you to chuck +your money away on a stiff 'un. If you want anything good you should +go to Mexico. + +COLONEL. [Jumping up and holding out the map.] Go to [He stops in +time.] What d'you call that, eh? M-E-X---- + +ERNEST. [Not to be embarrassed.] It all depend on what part. + +COLONEL. You think you know everything--you think nothing's right +unless it's your own idea! Be good enough to keep your advice to +yourself. + +ERNEST. [Moving with his chair, and stopping with a smile.] If you +ask me, I should say it wasn't playing the game to put Molly into a +thing like that. + +COLONEL. What do you mean, sir? + +ERNEST. Any Juggins can see that she's a bit gone on our friend. + +COLONEL. [Freezingly.] Indeed! + +ERNEST. He's not at all the sort of Johnny that appeals to me. + +COLONEL. Really? + +ERNEST. [Unmoved.] If I were you, Colonel, I should tip her the +wink. He was hanging about her at Ascot all the time. It 's a bit +thick! + + [MRS. HOPE followed by ROSE appears from the house.] + +COLONEL. [Stammering with passion.] Jackanapes! + +MRS. HOPE. Don't stand there, Tom; clear those papers, and let Rose +lay the table. Now, Ernest, go and get another chair. + + [The COLONEL looks wildly round and sits beneath the hollow + tree, with his head held in his hands. ROSE lays the cloth.] + +MRS. BEECH. [Sitting beside the COLONEL.] Poor creature! + +ERNEST. [Carrying his chair about with him.] Ask any Johnny in the +City, he 'll tell you Mexico's a very tricky country--the people are +awful rotters + +MRS. HOPE. Put that chair down, Ernest. + + [ERNEST looks at the chair, puts it down, opens his mouth, and + goes away. ROSE follows him.] + +What's he been talking about? You oughtn't to get so excited, Tom; +is your head bad, old man? Here, take these papers! [She hands the +papers to the COLONEL.] Peachey, go in and tell them tea 'll be +ready in a minute, there 's a good soul? Oh! and on my dressing +table you'll find a bottle of Eau de Cologne. + +MRS. BEECH. Don't let him get in a temper again. That 's three +times to-day! + + [She goes towards the house. ] + +COLONEL. Never met such a fellow in my life, the most opinionated, +narrow-minded--thinks he knows everything. Whatever Letty could see +in him I can't think. Pragmatical beggar! + +MRS. HOPE. Now Tom! What have you been up to, to get into a state +like this? + +COLONEL. [Avoiding her eyes.] I shall lose my temper with him one +of these days. He's got that confounded habit of thinking nobody can +be right but himself. + +MRS. HOPE. That's enough! I want to talk to you seriously! Dick's +in love. I'm perfectly certain of it. + +COLONEL. Love! Who's he in love with--Peachey? + +MRS. HOPE. You can see it all over him. If I saw any signs of Joy's +breaking out, I'd send them both away. I simply won't have it. + +COLONEL. Why, she's a child! + +MRS. HOPE. [Pursuing her own thoughts.] But she isn't--not yet. +I've been watching her very carefully. She's more in love with her +Mother than any one, follows her about like a dog! She's been quite +rude to Mr. Lever. + +COLONEL. [Pursuing his own thoughts.] I don't believe a word of it. + + [He rises and walks about] + +MRS. HOPE. Don't believe a word of what? + + [The COLONEL is Silent.] + + [Pursuing his thoughts with her own.] + +If I thought there was anything between Molly and Mr. Lever, d 'you +suppose I'd have him in the house? + + [The COLONEL stops, and gives a sort of grunt.] + +He's a very nice fellow; and I want you to pump him well, Tom, and +see what there is in this mine. + +COLONEL. [Uneasily.] Pump! + +MRS. HOPE. [Looking at him curiously.] Yes, you 've been up to +something! Now what is it? + +COLONEL. Pump my own guest! I never heard of such a thing! + +MRS. HOPE. There you are on your high horse! I do wish you had a +little common-sense, Tom! + +COLONEL. I'd as soon you asked me to sneak about eavesdropping! +Pump! + +MRS. HOPE. Well, what were you looking at these papers for? It does +drive me so wild the way you throw away all the chances you have of +making a little money. I've got you this opportunity, and you do +nothing but rave up and down, and talk nonsense! + +COLONEL. [In a high voice] Much you know about it! I 've taken a +thousand shares in this mine + + [He stops dead. There is a silence. ] + +MRS. HOPE. You 've--WHAT? Without consulting me? Well, then, +you 'll just go and take them out again! + +COLONEL. You want me to----? + +MRS. HOPE. The idea! As if you could trust your judgment in a thing +like that! You 'll just go at once and say there was a mistake; then +we 'll talk it over calmly. + +COLONEL. [Drawing himself up.] Go back on what I 've said? Not if I +lose every penny! First you worry me to take the shares, and then +you worry me not--I won't have it, Nell, I won't have it! + +MRS. HOPE. Well, if I'd thought you'd have forgotten what you said +this morning and turned about like this, d'you suppose I'd have +spoken to you at all? Now, do you? + +COLONEL. Rubbish! If you can't see that this is a special +opportunity! + + [He walks away followed by MRS. HOPE, who endeavors to make him + see her point of view. ERNEST and LETTY are now returning from + the house armed with a third chair.] + +LETTY. What's the matter with everybody? Is it the heat? + +ERNEST. [Preoccupied and sitting in the swing.] That sportsman, +Lever, you know, ought to be warned off. + +LETTY. [Signing t0 ERNEST.] Where's Miss Joy, Rose? + +ROSE. Don't know, Miss. + + [Putting down the tray, she goes.] + + + [ROSE, has followed with the tea tray.] + +LETTY. Ernie, be careful, you never know where Joy is. + +ERNEST. [Preoccupied with his reflections.] Your old Dad 's as mad +as a hatter with me. + +LETTY. Why? + +ERNEST. Well, I merely said what I thought, that Molly ought to look +out what's she's doing, and he dropped on me like a cartload of +bricks. + +LETTY. The Dad's very fond of Molly. + +ERNEST. But look here, d'you mean to tell me that she and Lever +are n't---- + +LETTY. Don't! Suppose they are! If joy were to hear it'd be simply +awful. I like Molly. I 'm not going to believe anything against +her. I don't see the use of it. If it is, it is, and if it is n't, +it is n't. + +ERNEST. Well, all I know is that when I told her the mine was +probably a frost she went for me like steam. + +LETTY. Well, so should I. She was only sticking up for her friends. + +ERNEST. Ask the old Peachey-bird. She knows a thing or two. Look +here, I don't mind a man's being a bit of a sportsman, but I think +Molly's bringin' him down here is too thick. Your old Dad's got one +of his notions that because this Josser's his guest, he must keep him +in a glass case, and take shares in his mine, and all the rest of it. + +LETTY. I do think people are horrible, always thinking things. It's +not as if Molly were a stranger. She's my own cousin. I 'm not +going to believe anything about my own cousin. I simply won't. + +ERNEST. [Reluctantly realising the difference that this makes.] I +suppose it does make a difference, her bein' your cousin. + +LETTY. Of course it does! I only hope to goodness no one will make +Joy suspect---- + + [She stops and buts her finger to her lips, for JOY is coming + towards them, as the tea-bell sounds. She is followed by DICK + and MISS BEECH with the Eau de Cologne. The COLONEL and MRS. + HOPE are also coming back, discussing still each other's point + of view.] + +JOY. Where 's Mother? Isn't she here? + +MRS. HOPE. Now Joy, come and sit down; your mother's been told tea's +ready; if she lets it get cold it's her lookout. + +DICK. [Producing a rug, and spreading it beneath the tree.] Plenty +of room, Joy. + +JOY. I don't believe Mother knows, Aunt Nell. + + [MRS. GWYN and LEVER appear in the opening of the wall.] + +LETTY. [Touching ERNEST's arm.] Look, Ernie! Four couples and +Peachey---- + +ERNEST. [Preoccupied.] What couples? + +JOY. Oh! Mums, here you are! + + [Seizing her, she turns her back on LEVER. They sit in various + seats, and MRS. HOPE pours out the tea.] + +MRS. HOPE. Hand the sandwiches to Mr. Lever, Peachey. It's our own +jam, Mr. Lever. + +LEVER. Thanks. [He takes a bite.] It's splendid! + +MRS. GWYN. [With forced gaiety.] It's the first time I've ever seen +you eat jam. + +LEVER. [Smiling a forced smile.] Really! But I love it. + +MRS. GWYN. [With a little bow.] You always refuse mine. + +JOY. [Who has been staring at her enemy, suddenly.] I'm all burnt +up! Are n't you simply boiled, Mother? + + [She touches her Mother's forehead.] + +MRS. GWYN. Ugh! You're quite clammy, Joy. + +JOY. It's enough to make any one clammy. + + [Her eyes go back to LEVER'S face as though to stab him.] + +ERNEST. [From the swing.] I say, you know, the glass is going down. + +LEVER. [Suavely.] The glass in the hall's steady enough. + +ERNEST. Oh, I never go by that; that's a rotten old glass. + +COLONEL. Oh! is it? + +ERNEST. [Paying no attention.] I've got a little ripper--never puts +you in the cart. Bet you what you like we have thunder before +tomorrow night. + +MISS BEECH. [Removing her gaze from JOY to LEVER.] You don't think +we shall have it before to-night, do you? + +LEVER. [Suavely.] I beg your pardon; did you speak to me? + +MISS BEECH. I said, you don't think we shall have the thunder before +to-night, do you? + + [She resumes her watch on joy.] + +LEVER. [Blandly.] Really, I don't see any signs of it. + + [Joy, crossing to the rug, flings herself down. And DICK sits + cross-legged, with his eyes fast fixed on her.] + +MISS BEECH. [Eating.] People don't often see what they don't want +to, do they? + + [LEVER only lifts his brows.] + +MRS. GWYN. [Quickly breaking ivy.] What are you talking about? The +weather's perfect. + +MISS BEECH. Isn't it? + +MRS. HOPE. You'd better make a good tea, Peachey; nobody'll get +anything till eight, and then only cold shoulder. You must just put +up with no hot dinner, Mr. Lever. + +LEVER. [Bowing.] Whatever is good enough for Miss Beech is good +enough for me. + +MISS BEECH. [Sardonically-taking another sandwich.] So you think! + +MRS. GWYN. [With forced gaiety.] Don't be so absurd, Peachey. + + [MISS BEECH, grunts slightly.] + +COLONEL. [Once more busy with his papers.] I see the name of your +engineer is Rodriguez--Italian, eh? + +LEVER. Portuguese. + +COLONEL. Don't like that! + +LEVER. I believe he was born in England. + +COLONEL. [Reassured.] Oh, was he? Ah! + +ERNEST. Awful rotters, those Portuguese! + +COLONEL. There you go! + +LETTY. Well, Father, Ernie only said what you said. + +MRS. HOPE. Now I want to ask you, Mr. Lever, is this gold mine safe? +If it isn't--I simply won't allow Tom to take these shares; he can't +afford it. + +LEVER. It rather depends on what you call safe, Mrs. Hope. + +MRS. HOPE. I don't want anything extravagant, of course; if they're +going to pay their 10 per cent, regularly, and Tom can have his money +out at any time--[There is a faint whistle from the swing.] I only +want to know that it's a thoroughly genuine thing. + +MRS. GWYN. [Indignantly.] As if Maurice would be a Director if it +was n't? + +MRS. HOPE. Now Molly, I'm simply asking---- + +MRS. GWYN. Yes, you are! + +COLONEL. [Rising.] I'll take two thousand of those shares, Lever. +To have my wife talk like that--I 'm quite ashamed. + +LEVER. Oh, come, sir, Mrs. Hope only meant---- + + [MRS. GWYN looks eagerly at LEVER.] + +DICK. [Quietly.] Let's go on the river, Joy. + + [JOY rises, and goes to her Mother's chair.] + +MRS. HOPE. Of course! What rubbish, Tom! As if any one ever +invested money without making sure! + +LEVER. [Ironically.] It seems a little difficult to make sure in +this case. There isn't the smallest necessity for Colonel Hope to +take any shares, and it looks to me as if he'd better not. + + [He lights a cigarette.] + +MRS. HOPE. Now, Mr. Lever, don't be offended! I'm very anxious for +Tom to take the shares if you say the thing's so good. + +LEVER. I 'm afraid I must ask to be left out, please. + +JOY. [Whispering.] Mother, if you've finished, do come, I want to +show you my room. + +MRS. HOPE. I would n't say a word, only Tom's so easily taken in. + +MRS. GWYN. [Fiercely.] Aunt Nell, how can't you? [Joy gives a +little savage laugh.] + +LETTY. [Hastily.] Ernie, will you play Dick and me? Come on, Dick! + + [All three go out towards the lawn.] + +MRS. HOPE. You ought to know your Uncle by this time, Molly. He's +just like a child. He'd be a pauper to-morrow if I did n't see to +things. + +COLONEL. Understand once for all that I shall take two thousand +shares in this mine. I 'm--I 'm humiliated. [He turns and goes +towards the house.] + +MRS. HOPE. Well, what on earth have I said? + + [She hurries after him. ] + +MRS. GWYN. [In a low voice as she passes.] You need n't insult my +friends! + + [LEVER, shrugging his shoulders, has strolled aside. JOY, with + a passionate movement seen only by Miss BEECH, goes off towards + the house. MISS BEECH and MRS. GWYN aye left alone beside the + remnants of the feast.] + +MISS BEECH. Molly! + + [MRS. GWYN looks up startled.] + +Take care, Molly, take care! The child! Can't you see? +[Apostrophising LEVER.] Take care, Molly, take care! + +LEVER. [Coming back.] Awfully hot, is n't it? + +MISS BEECH. Ah! and it'll be hotter if we don't mind. + +LEVER. [Suavely.] Do we control these things? + + [MISS BEECH looking from face to face, nods her head repeatedly; + then gathering her skirts she walks towards the house. MRS. + GWYN sits motionless, staying before her.] + +Extraordinary old lady! [He pitches away his cigarette.] What's the +matter with her, Molly? + +MRS. GWYN, [With an effort.] Oh! Peachey's a character! + +LEVER. [Frowning.] So I see! [There is a silence.] + +MRS. GWYN. Maurice! + +LEVER. Yes. + +MRS. GWYN. Aunt Nell's hopeless, you mustn't mind her. + +LEVER. [In a dubious and ironic voice.] My dear girl, I 've too +much to bother me to mind trifles like that. + +MRS. GWYN. [Going to him suddenly.] Tell me, won't you? + + [LEVER shrugs his shoulders.] + +A month ago you'd have told me soon enough! + +LEVER. Now, Molly! + +MRS. GWYN. Ah! [With a bitter smile.] The Spring's soon over. + +LEVER. It 's always Spring between us. + +MRS. GWYN. Is it? + +LEVER. You did n't tell me what you were thinking about just now +when you sat there like stone. + +MRS. GWYN. It does n't do for a woman to say too much. + +LEVER. Have I been so bad to you that you need feel like that, +Molly? + +MRS. GWYN. [With a little warm squeeze of his arm.] Oh! my dear, +it's only that I'm so--- + +[She stops.] + +LEVER. [Gently]. So what? + +MRS. GWYN. [In a low voice.] It's hateful here. + +LEVER. I didn't want to come. I don't understand why you suggested +it. [MRS. GWYN is silent.] It's been a mistake. + +MRS. GWYN. [Her eyes fixed on the ground.] Joy comes home to- +morrow. I thought if I brought you here--I should know---- + +LEVER. [Vexedly.] Um! + +MRS. GWYN. [Losing her control.] Can't you SEE? It haunts me? How +are we to go on? I must know--I must know! + +LEVER. I don't see that my coming---- + +MRS. GWYN. I thought I should have more confidence; I thought I +should be able to face it better in London, if you came down here +openly--and now--I feel I must n't speak or look at you. + +LEVER. You don't think your Aunt---- + +MRS. GWYN. [Scornfully.] She! It's only Joy I care about. + +LEVER. [Frowning.] We must be more careful, that's all. We mustn't +give ourselves away again, as we were doing just now. + +MRS. GWYN. When any one says anything horrid to you, I can't help +it. + + [She puts her hand on the label of his coat.] + +LEVER. My dear child, take care! + + [MRS. GWYN drops her hand. She throws her head back, and her + throat is seen to work as though she were gulping down a bitter + draught. She moves away.] + +[Following hastily.] Don't dear, don't! I only meant--Come, Molly, +let's be sensible. I want to tell you something about the mine. + +MRS. GWYN. [With a quavering smile.] Yes-let 's talk sensibly, and +walk properly in this sensible, proper place. + + [LEVER is seen trying to soothe her, and yet to walk properly. + As they disappear, they are viewed by JOY, who, like the shadow + parted from its figure, has come to join it again. She stands + now, foiled, a carnation in her hand; then flings herself on a + chair, and leans her elbows on the table.] + +JOY. I hate him! Pig! + +ROSE. [Who has come to clear the tea things.] Did you call, Miss? + +JOY. Not you! + +ROSE. [Motionless.] No, Miss! + +JOY. [Leaning back and tearing the flower.] Oh! do hurry up, Rose! + +ROSE. [Collects the tea things.] Mr. Dick's coming down the path! +Aren't I going to get you to do your frock, Miss Joy? + +JOY. No. + +ROSE. What will the Missis say? + +JOY. Oh, don't be so stuck, Rose! + + [ROSE goes, but DICK has come.] + +DICK. Come on the river, Joy, just for half an hour, as far as the +kingfishers--do! [Joy shakes her head.] Why not? It 'll be so +jolly and cool. I'm most awfully sorry if I worried you this +morning. I didn't mean to. I won't again, I promise. [Joy slides a +look at him, and from that look he gains a little courage.] Do come! +It'll be the last time. I feel it awfully, Joy. + +JOY. There's nothing to hurt you! + +DICK. [Gloomily.] Isn't there--when you're like this? + +JOY. [In a hard voice.] If you don't like me, why do you follow me +about? + +DICK. What is the matter? + +JOY. [Looking up, as if for want of air.] Oh! Don't! + +DICK. Oh, Joy, what is the matter? Is it the heat? + +JOY. [With a little laugh.] Yes. + +DICK. Have some Eau de Cologne. I 'll make you a bandage. [He +takes the Eau de Cologne, and makes a bandage with his handkerchief.] +It's quite clean. + +JOY. Oh, Dick, you are so funny! + +DICK. [Bandaging her forehead.] I can't bear you to feel bad; it +puts me off completely. I mean I don't generally make a fuss about +people, but when it 's you---- + +JOY. [Suddenly.] I'm all right. + +DICK. Is that comfy? + +JOY. [With her chin up, and her eyes fast closed.] Quite. + +DICK. I'm not going to stay and worry you. You ought to rest. +Only, Joy! Look here! If you want me to do anything for you, any +time---- + +JOY. [Half opening her eyes.] Only to go away. + + [DICK bites his lips and walks away.] + +Dick--[softly]--Dick! + + [DICK stops.] + +I didn't mean that; will you get me some water-irises for this +evening? + +DICK. Won't I? [He goes to the hollow tree and from its darkness +takes a bucket and a boat-hook.] I know where there are some +rippers! + + [JOY stays unmoving with her eyes half closed.] + +Are you sure you 're all right. Joy? You 'll just rest here in the +shade, won't you, till I come back?--it 'll do you no end of good. I +shan't be twenty minutes. + + [He goes, but cannot help returning softly, to make sure.] + +You're quite sure you 're all right? + + [JOY nods. He goes away towards the river. But there is no + rest for JOY. The voices of MRS. GWYN and LEVER are heard + returning.] + +JOY. [With a gesture of anger.] Hateful! Hateful! + + [She runs away.] + + [MRS. GWYN and LEVER are seen approaching; they pass the tree, + in conversation.] + +MRS. GWYN. But I don't see why, Maurice. + +LEVER. We mean to sell the mine; we must do some more work on it, +and for that we must have money. + +MRS. GWYN. If you only want a little, I should have thought you +could have got it in a minute in the City. + +LEVER. [Shaking his head.] No, no; we must get it privately. + +MRS. GWYN. [Doubtfully.] Oh! [She slowly adds.] Then it isn't +such a good thing! + + [And she does not look at him.] + +LEVER. Well, we mean to sell it. + +MRS. GWYN. What about the people who buy? + +LEVER. [Dubiously regarding her.] My dear girl, they've just as +much chance as we had. It 's not my business to think of them. +There's YOUR thousand pounds---- + +MRS. GWYN. [Softly.] Don't bother about my money, Maurice. I don't +want you to do anything not quite---- + +LEVER. [Evasively.] Oh! There's my brother's and my sister's too. +I 'm not going to let any of you run any risk. When we all went in +for it the thing looked splendid; it 's only the last month that we +'ve had doubts. What bothers me now is your Uncle. I don't want him +to take these shares. It looks as if I'd come here on purpose. + +MRS. GWYN. Oh! he mustn't take them! + +LEVER. That 's all very well; but it 's not so simple. + +MRS. GWYN. [Shyly.] But, Maurice, have you told him about the +selling? + +LEVER. [Gloomily, under the hollow tree.] It 's a Board secret. +I'd no business to tell even you. + +MRS. GWYN. But he thinks he's taking shares in a good--a permanent +thing. + +LEVER. You can't go into a mining venture without some risk. + +MRS. GWYN. Oh yes, I know--but--but Uncle Tom is such a dear! + +LEVER. [Stubbornly.] I can't help his being the sort of man he is. +I did n't want him to take these shares; I told him so in so many +words. Put yourself in my place, Molly: how can I go to him and say, +"This thing may turn out rotten," when he knows I got you to put your +money into it? + + [But JOY, the lost shadow, has come back. She moves forward + resolutely. They are divided from her by the hollow tree; she + is unseen. She stops.] + +MRS. GWYN. I think he ought to be told about the selling; it 's not +fair. + +LEVER. What on earth made him rush at the thing like that? I don't +understand that kind of man. + +MRS. GWYN. [Impulsively.] I must tell him, Maurice; I can't let him +take the shares without---- + + [She puts her hand on his arm.] + + [Joy turns, as if to go back whence she came, but stops once + more.] + +LEVER. [Slowly and very quietly.] I did n't think you'd give me +away, Molly. + +MRS. GWYN. I don't think I quite understand. + +LEVER. If you tell the Colonel about this sale the poor old chap +will think me a man that you ought to have nothing to do with. Do +you want that? + + [MRS. GWYN, giving her lover a long look, touches his sleeve. + JOY, slipping behind the hollow tree, has gone.] + +You can't act in a case like this as if you 'd only a principle to +consider. It 's the--the special circumstances. + +MRS. GWYN. [With a faint smile.] But you'll be glad to get the +money won't you? + +LEVER. By George! if you're going to take it like this, Molly + +MRS. GWYN. Don't! + +LEVER. We may not sell after all, dear, we may find it turn out +trumps. + +MRS. GWYN. [With a shiver.] I don't want to hear any more. I know +women don't understand. [Impulsively.] It's only that I can't bear +any one should think that you---- + +LEVER. [Distressed.] For goodness sake don't look like that, Molly! +Of course, I'll speak to your Uncle. I'll stop him somehow, even if +I have to make a fool of myself. I 'll do anything you want---- + +MRS. GWYN. I feel as if I were being smothered here. + +LEVER. It 's only for one day. + +MRS. GWYN. [With sudden tenderness.] It's not your fault, dear. I +ought to have known how it would be. Well, let's go in! + + [She sets her lips, and walks towards the house with LEVER + following. But no sooner has she disappeared than JOY comes + running after; she stops, as though throwing down a challenge. + Her cheeks and ears are burning.] + +JOY. Mother! + + [After a moment MRS. GWYN reappears in the opening of the wall.] + +MRS. GWYN. Oh! here you are! + +JOY. [Breathlessly.] Yes. + +MRS. GWYN. [Uncertainly.] Where--have you been? You look +dreadfully hot; have you been running? + +JOY. Yes----no. + +MRS. GWYN. [Looking at her fixedly.] What's the matter--you 're +trembling! [Softly.] Are n't you well, dear? + +JOY. Yes--I don't know. + +MRS. GWYN. What is it, darling? + +JOY. [Suddenly clinging to her.] Oh! Mother! + +MRS. GWYN. I don't understand. + +JOY. [Breathlessly.] Oh, Mother, let me go back home with you now +at once---- +MRS. GWYN. [Her face hardening.] Why? What on earth---- + +JOY. I can't stay here. + +MRS. GWYN. But why? + +JOY. I want to be with you--Oh! Mother, don't you love me? + +MRS. GWYN. [With a faint smile.] Of course I love you, Joy. + +JOY. Ah! but you love him more. + +MRS. GWYN. Love him--whom? + +JOY. Oh! Mother, I did n't--[She tries to take her Mother's hand, +but fails.] Oh! don't. + +MRS. GWYN. You'd better explain what you mean, I think. + +JOY. I want to get you to--he--he 's--he 'snot----! + +MRS. GWYN. [Frigidly.] Really, Joy! + +JOY. [Passionately.] I'll fight against him, and I know there's +something wrong about---- + + [She stops.] + +MRS. GWYN. About what? + +JOY. Let's tell Uncle Tom, Mother, and go away. + +MRS. GWYN. Tell Uncle--Tom--what? + +JOY. [Looking down and almost whispering.] About--about--the mine. + +MRS. GWYN. What about the mine? What do you mean? [Fiercely.] +Have you been spying on me? + +JOY. [Shrinking.] No! oh, no! + +MRS. GWYN. Where were you? + +JOY. [Just above her breath.] I--I heard something. + +MRS. GWYN. [Bitterly.] But you were not spying? + +JOY. I was n't--I wasn't! I didn't want--to hear. I only heard a +little. I couldn't help listening, Mother. + +MRS. GWYN. [With a little laugh.] Couldn't help listening? + +JOY. [Through her teeth.] I hate him. I didn't mean to listen, but +I hate him. + +MRS. GWYN. I see. Why do you hate him? + + [There is a silence.] + +JOY. He--he----[She stops.] + + +MRS. GWYN. Yes? + +JOY. [With a sort of despair.] I don't know. Oh! I don't know! +But I feel---- + +MRS. GWYN. I can't reason with you. As to what you heard, it 's-- +ridiculous. + +JOY. It 's not that. It 's--it 's you! + +MRS. GWYN. [Stonily.] I don't know what you mean. + +JOY. [Passionately.] I wish Dad were here! + +MRS. GWYN. Do you love your Father as much as me? + +JOY. Oh! Mother, no-you know I don't. + +MRS. GWYN. [Resentfully.] Then why do you want him? + +JOY. [Almost under her breath.] Because of that man. + +MRS. GWYN. Indeed! + +JOY. I will never--never make friends with him. + +MRS. GWYN. [Cuttingly.] I have not asked you to. + +JOY. [With a blind movement of her hand.] Oh, Mother! + + [MRS. GWYN half turns away.] + +Mother--won't you? Let's tell Uncle Tom and go away from him? + +MRS. GWYN. If you were not, a child, Joy, you wouldn't say such +things. + +JOY. [Eagerly.] I'm not a child, I'm--I'm a woman. I am. + +MRS. GWYN. No! You--are--not a woman, Joy. + + [She sees joy throw up her arms as though warding off a blow, + and turning finds that LEVER is standing in the opening of the + wall.] + +LEVER. [Looking from face to face.] What's the matter? [There is +no answer.] What is it, Joy? + +JOY. [Passionately.] I heard you, I don't care who knows. I'd +listen again. + +LEVER. [Impassively.] Ah! and what did I say that was so very +dreadful? + +JOY. You're a--a--you 're a--coward! + +MRS. GWYN. [With a sort of groan.] Joy! + +LEVER. [Stepping up to JOY, and standing with his hands behind him-- +in a low voice.] Now hit me in the face--hit me--hit me as hard as +you can. Go on, Joy, it'll do you good. + + [Joy raises her clenched hand, but drops it, and hides her + face.] + +Why don't you? I'm not pretending! + + [Joy makes no sign.] + +Come, joy; you'll make yourself ill, and that won't help, will it? + + [But joy still makes no sign.] + +[With determination.] What's the matter? now come--tell me! + +JOY. [In a stifled, sullen voice.] Will you leave my mother alone? + +MRS. GWYN. Oh! my dear Joy, don't be silly! + +JOY. [Wincing; then with sudden passion.] I defy you--I defy you! +[She rushes from their sight.] + +MRS. GWYN. [With a movement of distress.] Oh! + +LEVER. [Turning to MRS. GWYN with a protecting gesture.] Never +mind, dear! It'll be--it'll be all right! + + [But the expression of his face is not the expression of his + words.] + + + The curtain falls. + + + + + +ACT III + + It is evening; a full yellow moon is shining through the + branches of the hollow tree. The Chinese lanterns are alight. + There is dancing in the house; the music sounds now loud, now + soft. MISS BEECH is sitting on the rustic seat in a black + bunchy evening dress, whose inconspicuous opening is inlaid with + white. She slowly fans herself. + + DICK comes from the house in evening dress. He does not see + Miss BEECH. + + +DICK. Curse! [A short silence.] Curse! + +MISS BEECH. Poor young man! + +DICK. [With a start.] Well, Peachey, I can't help it +[He fumbles off his gloves.] + +MISS BEECH. Did you ever know any one that could? + +DICK. [Earnestly.] It's such awfully hard lines on Joy. I can't get +her out of my head, lying there with that beastly headache while +everybody's jigging round. + +MISS BEECH. Oh! you don't mind about yourself--noble young man! + +DICK. I should be a brute if I did n't mind more for her. + +MISS BEECH. So you think it's a headache, do you? + +DICK. Did n't you hear what Mrs. Gwyn said at dinner about the sun? +[With inspiration.] I say, Peachey, could n't you--could n't you +just go up and give her a message from me, and find out if there 's +anything she wants, and say how brutal it is that she 's seedy; it +would be most awfully decent of you. And tell her the dancing's no +good without her. Do, Peachey, now do! Ah! and look here! + + [He dives into the hollow of the tree, and brings from out of it + a pail of water in which are placed two bottles of champagne, + and some yellow irises--he takes the irises.] + +You might give her these. I got them specially for her, and I have +n't had a chance. + +MISS BEECH. [Lifting a bottle.] What 's this? + +DICK. Fizz. The Colonel brought it from the George. It 's for +supper; he put it in here because of--[Smiling faintly]--Mrs. Hope, +I think. Peachey, do take her those irises. + +MISS. BEECH. D' you think they'll do her any good? + +DICK. [Crestfallen.] I thought she'd like--I don't want to worry +her--you might try. + + [MISS BEECH shakes her head.] + +Why not? + +MISS BEECH. The poor little creature won't let me in. + +DICK. You've been up then! + +MISS BEECH. [Sharply.] Of course I've been up. I've not got a +stone for my heart, young man! + +DICK. All right! I suppose I shall just have to get along somehow. + +MISS BEECH. [With devilry.] That's what we've all got to do. + +DICK. [Gloomily.] But this is too brutal for anything! + +MISS BEECH. Worse than ever happened to any one! + +DICK. I swear I'm not thinking of myself. + +MISS BEECH. Did y' ever know anybody that swore they were? + +DICK. Oh! shut up! + +MISS BEECH. You'd better go in and get yourself a partner. + +DICK. [With pale desperation.] Look here, Peachey, I simply loathe +all those girls. + +MISS BEECH. Ah-h! [Ironically.] Poor lot, are n't they? + +DICK. All right; chaff away, it's good fun, isn't it? It makes me +sick to dance when Joy's lying there. Her last night, too! + +MISS BEECH. [Sidling to him.] You're a good young man, and you 've +got a good heart. + + [She takes his hand, and puts it to her cheek.] + +DICK. Peachey--I say, Peachey d' you think there 's--I mean d' you +think there'll ever be any chance for me? + +MISS BEECH. I thought that was coming! I don't approve of your +making love at your time of life; don't you think I 'm going to +encourage you. + +DICK. But I shall be of age in a year; my money's my own, it's not +as if I had to ask any one's leave; and I mean, I do know my own +mind. + +MISS BEECH. Of course you do. Nobody else would at your age, but +you do. + +DICK. I would n't ask her to promise, it would n't be fair when +she 's so young, but I do want her to know that I shall never change. + +MISS BEECH. And suppose--only suppose--she's fond of you, and says +she'll never change. + +DICK. Oh! Peachey! D' you think there's a chance of that--do you? + +MISS BEECH. A-h-h! + +DICK. I wouldn't let her bind herself, I swear I wouldn't. +[Solemnly.] I'm not such a selfish brute as you seem to think. + +MISS BEECH. [Sidling close to him and in a violent whisper.] Well-- +have a go! + +DICK. Really? You are a brick, Peachey! + + [He kisses her.] + +MISS BEACH. [Yielding pleasurably; then remembering her principles.] +Don't you ever say I said so! You're too young, both of you. + +DICK. But it is exceptional--I mean in my case, is n't it? + + [The COLONEL and MRS. GWYN are coming down the lawn.] + +MISS BEECH. Oh! very! + + [She sits beneath the tree and fans herself.] + +COLONEL. The girls are all sitting out, Dick! I've been obliged to +dance myself. Phew! + + [He mops his brow.] + + [DICK swinging round goes rushing off towards the house.] + +[Looking after him.] Hallo! What's the matter with him? Cooling +your heels, Peachey? By George! it's hot. Fancy the poor devils in +London on a night like this, what? [He sees the moon.] It's a full +moon. You're lucky to be down here, Molly. + +MRS. GWYN. [In a low voice.] Very! + +MISS BEECH. Oh! so you think she's lucky, do you? + +COLONEL. [Expanding his nostrils.] Delicious scent to-night! Hay +and roses--delicious. + + [He seats himself between them.] + +A shame that poor child has knocked up like this. Don't think it was +the sun myself--more likely neuralgic--she 's subject to neuralgia, +Molly. + +MRS. GWYN. [Motionless.] I know. + +COLONEL. Got too excited about your coming. I told Nell not to keep +worrying her about her frock, and this is the result. But your Aunt +--you know--she can't let a thing alone! + +MISS BEECH. Ah! 't isn't neuralgia. + + [MRS. GWYN looks at her quickly and averts her eyes.] + +COLONEL. Excitable little thing. You don't understand her, Peachey. + +MISS BEECH. Don't I? + +COLONEL. She's all affection. Eh, Molly? I remember what I was +like at her age, a poor affectionate little rat, and now look at me! + +MISS BEECH. [Fanning herself.] I see you. + +COLONEL. [A little sadly.] We forget what we were like when we were +young. She's been looking forward to to-night ever since you wrote; +and now to have to go to bed and miss the, dancing. Too bad! + +MRS. GWYN. Don't, Uncle Tom! + +COLONEL. [Patting her hand.] There, there, old girl, don't think +about it. She'll be all right tomorrow. + +MISS BEECH. If I were her mother I'd soon have her up. + +COLONEL. Have her up with that headache! What are you talking +about, Peachey? + +MISS BEECH. I know a remedy. + +COLONEL. Well, out with it. + +MISS BEECH. Oh! Molly knows it too! + +MRS. GWYN. [Staring at the ground.] It's easy to advise. + +COLONEL. [Fidgetting.] Well, if you're thinking of morphia for her, +don't have anything to do with it. I've always set my face against +morphia; the only time I took it was in Burmah. I'd raging neuralgia +for two days. I went to our old doctor, and I made him give me some. +"Look here, doctor," I said, "I hate the idea of morphia, I 've never +taken it, and I never want to." + +MISS BEECH. [Looking at MRS. GWYN.] When a tooth hurts, you should +have it out. It 's only puttin' off the evil day. + +COLONEL. You say that because it was n't your own. + +MISS BEECH. Well, it was hollow, and you broke your principles! + +COLONEL. Hollow yourself, Peachey; you're as bad as any one! + +MISS BEECH [With devilry.] Well, I know that! [She turns to MRS. +GWYN.] He should have had it out! Shouldn't he, Molly? + +MRS. GWYN. I--don't--judge for other people. + + [She gets up suddenly, as though deprived of air.] + +COLONEL. [Alarmed.] Hallo, Molly! Are n't you feeling the thing, +old girl? + +MISS BEECH. Let her get some air, poor creature! + +COLONEL. [Who follows anxiously.] Your Aunt's got some first-rate +sal volatile. + +MRS. GWYN. It's all right, Uncle Tom. I felt giddy, it's nothing, +now. + +COLONEL. That's the dancing. [He taps his forehead.] I know what +it is when you're not used to it. + +MRS. GWYN. [With a sudden bitter outburst.] I suppose you think I +'m a very bad mother to be amusing myself while joy's suffering. + +COLONEL. My dear girl, whatever put such a thought into your head? +We all know if there were anything you could do, you'd do it at once, +would n't she, Peachey? + + [MISS BEECH turns a slow look on MRS. GWYN.] + +MRS. GWYN. Ah! you see, Peachey knows me better. + +COLONEL. [Following up his thoughts.] I always think women are +wonderful. There's your Aunt, she's very funny, but if there's +anything the matter with me, she'll sit up all night; but when she's +ill herself, and you try to do anything for her, out she raps at +once. + +MRS. GWYN. [In a low voice.] There's always one that a woman will +do anything for. + +COLONEL. Exactly what I say. With your Aunt it's me, and by George! +Molly, sometimes I wish it was n't. + +MISS BEECH, [With meaning.] But is it ever for another woman! + +COLONEL. You old cynic! D' you mean to say Joy wouldn't do anything +on earth for her Mother, or Molly for Joy? You don't know human +nature. What a wonderful night! Have n't seen such a moon for +years, she's like a great, great lamp! + + [MRS. GWYN hiding from Miss BEECH's eyes, rises and slips her + arm through his; they stand together looking at the moon.] + +Don't like these Chinese lanterns, with that moon-tawdry! eh! By +Jove, Molly, I sometimes think we humans are a rubbishy lot--each of +us talking and thinking of nothing but our own petty little affairs; +and when you see a great thing like that up there--[Sighs.] But +there's your Aunt, if I were to say a thing like that to her she 'd-- +she'd think me a lunatic; and yet, you know, she 's a very good +woman. + +MRS. GWYN. [Half clinging to him.] Do you think me very selfish, +Uncle Tom? + +COLONEL. My dear--what a fancy! Think you selfish--of course I +don't; why should I? + +MRS. GWYN. [Dully.] I don't know. + +COLONEL. [Changing the subject nervously.] I like your friend, +Lever, Molly. He came to me before dinner quite distressed about +your Aunt, beggin' me not to take those shares. She 'll be the first +to worry me, but he made such a point of it, poor chap--in the end I +was obliged to say I wouldn't. I thought it showed very' nice +feeling. [Ruefully.] It's a pretty tight fit to make two ends meet +on my income--I've missed a good thing, all owing to your Aunt. +[Dropping his voice.] I don't mind telling you, Molly, I think +they've got a much finer mine there than they've any idea of. + + [MRS. GWYN gives way to laughter that is very near to sobs.] + +[With dignity.] I can't see what there is to laugh at. + +MRS. GWYN. I don't know what's the matter with me this evening. + +MISS BEECH. [In a low voice.] I do. + +COLONEL. There, there! Give me a kiss, old girl! [He kisses her on +the brow.] Why, your forehead's as hot as fire. I know--I know-you +'re fretting about Joy. Never mind--come! [He draws her hand +beneath his arm.] Let's go and have a look at the moon on the river. +We all get upset at times; eh! [Lifting his hand as if he had been +stung.] Why, you 're not crying, Molly! I say! Don't do that, old +girl, it makes me wretched. Look here, Peachey. [Holding out the +hand on which the tear has dropped.] This is dreadful! + +MRS. GWYN. [With a violent effort.] It's all right, Uncle Tom! + + [MISS BEECH wipes her own eyes stealthily. From the house is + heard the voice of MRS. HOPE, calling "Tom."] + +MISS BEECH. Some one calling you. + +COLONEL. There, there, my dear, you just stay here, and cool +yourself--I 'll come back--shan't be a minute. [He turns to go.] + + [MRS. HOPE'S voice sounds nearer.] + +[Turning back.] And Molly, old girl, don't you mind anything I said. +I don't remember what it was--it must have been something, I suppose. + + [He hastily retreats.] + +MRS. GWYN. [In a fierce low voice.] Why do you torture me? + +MISS BEECH. [Sadly.] I don't want to torture you. + +MRS. GWYN, But you do. D' you think I haven't seen this coming--all +these weeks. I knew she must find out some time! But even a day +counts---- + +MISS BEECH. I don't understand why you brought him down here. + +MRS. GWYN. [After staring at her, bitterly.] When day after day and +night after night you've thought of nothing but how to keep them +both, you might a little want to prove that it was possible, mightn't +you? But you don't understand--how should you? You've never been a +mother! [And fiercely.] You've never had a lov---- + + [MISS BEECH raises her face-it is all puckered.] + +[Impulsively.] Oh, I did n't mean that, Peachey! + +MISS BEECH. All right, my dear. + +MRS. GWYN. I'm so dragged in two! [She sinks into a chair.] I knew +it must come. + +MISS BEECH. Does she know everything, Molly? + +MRS. GWYN. She guesses. + +MISS BEECH. [Mournfully.] It's either him or her then, my dear; one +or the other you 'll have to give up. + +MRS. GWYN. [Motionless.] Life's very hard on women! + +MISS BEECH. Life's only just beginning for that child, Molly. + +MRS. GWYN. You don't care if it ends for me! + +MISS BEECH. Is it as bad as that? + +MRS. GWYN. Yes. + +MISS BEECH. [Rocking hey body.] Poor things! Poor things! + +MRS. GWYN. Are you still fond of me? + +MISS BEECH. Yes, yes, my dear, of course I am. + +MRS. GWYN. In spite of my-wickedness? + + [She laughs.] + +MISS BEECH. Who am I to tell what's wicked and what is n't? God +knows you're both like daughters to me! + +MRS. GWYN. [Abruptly.] I can't. + +MISS BEECH. Molly. + +MRS. GWYN. You don't know what you're asking. + +MISS BEECH. If I could save you suffering, my dear, I would. I hate +suffering, if it 's only a fly, I hate it. + +MRS. GWYN. [Turning away from her.] Life is n't fair. Peachey, go +in and leave me alone. + + [She leans back motionless.] + + [Miss BEECH gets off her seat, and stroking MRS. GWYN's arm in + passing goes silently away. In the opening of the wall she + meets LEVER who is looking for his partner. They make way for + each other.] + +LEVER. [Going up to MRS. GWYN--gravely.] The next is our dance, +Molly. + +MRS. GWYN. [Unmoving.] Let's sit it out here, then. + + [LEVER sits down.] + +LEVER. I've made it all right with your Uncle. + +MRS. GWYN. [Dully.] Oh? + +LEVER. I spoke to him about the shares before dinner. + +MRS. GWYN. Yes, he told me, thank you. + +LEVER. There 's nothing to worry over, dear. + +MRS. GWYN. [Passionately.] What does it matter about the wretched +shares now? I 'm stifling. + + [She throws her scarf off.] + +LEVER. I don't understand what you mean by "now." + +MRS. GWYN. Don't you? + +LEVER. We were n't--Joy can't know--why should she? I don't believe +for a minute---- + +MRS. GWYN. Because you don't want to. + +LEVER. Do you mean she does? + +MRS. GWYN. Her heart knows. + + [LEVER makes a movement of discomfiture; suddenly MRS. GWYN + looks at him as though to read his soul.] + +I seem to bring you nothing but worry, Maurice. Are you tired of me? + +LEVER. [Meeting her eyes.] No, I am not. + +MRS. GWYN. Ah, but would you tell me if you were? + +LEVER. [Softly.] Sufficient unto the day is the evil thereof. + + [MRS. GWYN struggles to look at him, then covers her face with + her hands.] + +MRS. GWYN. If I were to give you up, you'd forget me in a month. + +LEVER. Why do you say such things? + +MRS. GWYN. If only I could believe I was necessary to you! + +LEVER. [Forcing the fervour of his voice.] But you are! + +MRS. GWYN. Am I? [With the ghost of a smile.] Midsummer day! + + [She gives a laugh that breaks into a sob.] + + [The music o f a waltz sounds from the house.] + +LEVER. For God's sake, don't, Molly--I don't believe in going to +meet trouble. + +MRS. GWYN. It's staring me in the face. + +LEVER. Let the future take care of itself! + + [MRS. GWYN has turned away her face, covering it with her + hands.] + +Don't, Molly! [Trying to pull her hands away.] Don't! + +MRS. GWYN. Oh! what shall I do? + + [There is a silence; the music of the waltz sounds louder from + the house.] + +[Starting up.] Listen! One can't sit it out and dance it too. +Which is it to be, Maurice, dancing--or sitting out? It must be one +or the other, must n't it? + +LEVER. Molly! Molly! + +MRS. GWYN. Ah, my dear! [Standing away from him as though to show +herself.] How long shall I keep you? This is all that 's left of +me. It 's time I joined the wallflowers. [Smiling faintly.] It's +time I played the mother, is n't it? [In a whisper.] It'll be all +sitting out then. + +LEVER. Don't! Let's go and dance, it'll do you good. + + [He puts his hands on her arms, and in a gust of passion kisses + her lips and throat.] + +MRS. GWYN. I can't give you up--I can't. Love me, oh! love me! + + [For a moment they stand so; then, with sudden remembrance of + where they are, they move apart.] + +LEVER. Are you all right now, darling? + +MRS. GWYN. [Trying to smile.] Yes, dear--quite. + +LEVER. Then let 's go, and dance. [They go.] + +[For a few seconds the hollow tree stands alone; then from the house +ROSE comes and enters it. She takes out a bottle of champagne, wipes +it, and carries it away; but seeing MRS. GWYN's scarf lying across +the chair, she fingers it, and stops, listening to the waltz. +Suddenly draping it round her shoulders, she seizes the bottle of +champagne, and waltzes with abandon to the music, as though avenging +a long starvation of her instincts. Thus dancing, she is surprised +by DICK, who has come to smoke a cigarette and think, at the spot +where he was told to "have a go." ROSE, startled, stops and hugs the +bottle.] + +DICK. It's not claret, Rose, I should n't warm it. + + [ROSE, taking off the scarf, replaces it on the chair; then with + the half-warmed bottle, she retreats. DICK, in the swing, sits + thinking of his fate. Suddenly from behind the hollow tree he + sees Joy darting forward in her day dress with her hair about + her neck, and her skirt all torn. As he springs towards her, + she turns at bay.] + +DICK. Joy! + +JOY. I want Uncle Tom. + +DICK. [In consternation.] But ought you to have got up--I thought +you were ill in bed; oughtn't you to be lying down? + +JOY. If have n't been in bed. Where's Uncle Tom? + +DICK. But where have you been?-your dress is all torn. Look! [He +touches the torn skirt.] + +JOY. [Tearing it away.] In the fields. Where's Uncle Tom? + +DICK. Are n't you really ill then? + + [Joy shakes her head.] + +DICK, [showing her the irises.] Look at these. They were the best I +could get. + +JOY. Don't! I want Uncle Tom! + +DICK. Won't you take them? + +JOY. I 've got something else to do. + +DICK. [With sudden resolution.] What do you want the Colonel for? + +JOY. I want him. + +DICK. Alone? + +JOY. Yes. + +DICK. Joy, what is the matter? + +JOY. I 've got something to tell him. + +DICK. What? [With sudden inspiration.] Is it about Lever? + +JOY. [In a low voice.] The mine. + +DICK. The mine? + +JOY. It 's not--not a proper one. + +DICK. How do you mean, Joy? + +JOY. I overheard. I don't care, I listened. I would n't if it had +been anybody else, but I hate him. + +DICK. [Gravely.] What did you hear? + +JOY. He 's keeping back something Uncle Tom ought to know. + +DICK. Are you sure? + + [Joy makes a rush to pass him.] + +[Barring the way.] No, wait a minute--you must! Was it something +that really matters?--I don't want to know what. + +JOY. Yes, it was. + +DICK. What a beastly thing--are you quite certain, Joy? + +JOY. [Between her teeth.] Yes. + +DICK. Then you must tell him, of course, even if you did overhear. +You can't stand by and see the Colonel swindled. Whom was he talking +to? + +JOY. I won't tell you. + +DICK. [Taking her wrist.] Was it was it your Mother? + + [Joy bends her head.] + +But if it was your Mother, why does n't she---- + +JOY. Let me go! + +DICK. [Still holding her.] I mean I can't see what---- + +JOY. [Passionately.] Let me go! + +DICK. [Releasing her.] I'm thinking of your Mother, Joy. She would +never---- + +JOY. [Covering her face.] That man! + +DICK. But joy, just think! There must be some mistake. It 's so +queer--it 's quite impossible! + +JOY. He won't let her. + +DICK. Won't let her--won't let her? But [Stopping dead, and in a +very different voice.] Oh! + +JOY. [Passionately.] Why d' you look at me like that? Why can't +you speak? + + [She waits for him to speak, but he does not.] + +I'm going to show what he is, so that Mother shan't speak to him +again. I can--can't I--if I tell Uncle Tom?--can't I----? + +DICK. But Joy--if your Mother knows a thing like--that---- + +JOY. She wanted to tell--she begged him--and he would n't. + +DICK. But, joy, dear, it means---- + +JOY. I hate him, I want to make her hate him, and I will. + +DICK. But, Joy, dear, don't you see--if your Mother knows a thing +like that, and does n't speak of it, it means that she--it means that +you can't make her hate him--it means----If it were anybody else-- +but, well, you can't give your own Mother away! + +JOY. How dare you! How dare you! [Turning to the hollow tree.] It +is n't true--Oh! it is n't true! + +DICK. [In deep distress.] Joy, dear, I never meant, I didn't +really! + + [He tries to pull her hands down from her face.] + +JOY. [Suddenly.] Oh! go away, go away! + + [MRS. GWYN is seen coming back. JOY springs into the tree. + DICK quickly steals away. MRS. GWYN goes up to the chair and + takes the scarf that she has come for, and is going again when + JOY steals out to her.] + +Mother! + + [MRS. GWYN stands looking at her with her teeth set on her lower + lip.] + +Oh! Mother, it is n't true? + +MRS. GWYN. [Very still.] What is n't true? + +JOY. That you and he are---- + + [Searching her Mother's face, which is deadly still. In a + whisper.] + +Then it is true. Oh! + +MRS. GWYN. That's enough, Joy! What I am is my affair--not yours-- +do you understand? + +JOY. [Low and fierce.] Yes, I do. + +MRS. GWYN. You don't. You're only a child. + +JOY. [Passionately.] I understand that you've hurt [She stops.] + +MRS. GWYN. Do you mean your Father? + +JOY. [Bowing her head.] Yes, and--and me. [She covers her face.] +I'm--I'm ashamed. + +MRS. GWYN. I brought you into the world, and you say that to me? +Have I been a bad mother to you? + +JOY. [In a smothered voice.] Oh! Mother! + +MRS. GWYN. Ashamed? Am I to live all my life like a dead woman +because you're ashamed? Am I to live like the dead because you 're a +child that knows nothing of life? Listen, Joy, you 'd better +understand this once for all. Your Father has no right over me and +he knows it. We 've been hateful to each other for years. Can you +understand that? Don't cover your face like a child--look at me. + + [Joy drops her hands, and lifts her face. MRS. GWYN looks back + at her, her lips are quivering; she goes on speaking with + stammering rapidity.] + +D' you think--because I suffered when you were born and because I 've +suffered since with every ache you ever had, that that gives you the +right to dictate to me now? [In a dead voice.] I've been unhappy +enough and I shall be unhappy enough in the time to come. [Meeting +the hard wonder in Joy's face.] Oh! you untouched things, you're as +hard and cold as iron! + +JOY. I would do anything for you, Mother. + +MRS. GWYN. Except--let me live, Joy. That's the only thing you won't +do for me, I quite understand. + +JOY. Oh! Mother, you don't understand--I want you so; and I seem to +be nothing to you now. + +MRS. GWYN. Nothing to me? [She smiles.] + +JOY. Mother, darling, if you're so unhappy let's forget it all, +let's go away and I 'll be everything to you, I promise. + +MRS. GWYN. [With the ghost of a laugh.] Ah, Joy! + +JOY. I would try so hard. + +MRS. GWYN. [With the same quivering smile.] My darling, I know you +would, until you fell in love yourself. + +JOY. Oh, Mother, I wouldn't, I never would, I swear it. + +MRS. GWYN. There has never been a woman, joy, that did not fall in +love. + +JOY. [In a despairing whisper.] But it 's wrong of you it's wicked! + +MRS. GWYN. If it's wicked, I shall pay for it, not you! + +JOY. But I want to save you, Mother! + +MRS. GWYN. Save me? [Breaking into laughter.] + +JOY. I can't bear it that you--if you 'll only--I'll never leave +you. You think I don't know what I 'm saying, but I do, because even +now I--I half love somebody. Oh, Mother! [Pressing her breast.] +I feel--I feel so awful--as if everybody knew. + +MRS. GWYN. You think I'm a monster to hurt you. Ah! yes! You'll +understand better some day. + +JOY. [In a sudden outburst of excited fear.] I won't believe it-- +I--I--can't--you're deserting me, Mother. + +MRS. GWYN. Oh, you untouched things! You---- + + [Joy' looks up suddenly, sees her face, and sinks down on her + knees.] + +JOY. Mother--it 's for me! + +GWYN. Ask for my life, JOY--don't be afraid. + + [Joy turns her face away. MRS. GWYN bends suddenly and touches + her daughter's hair; JOY shrinks from that touch.] + +[Recoiling as though she had been stung.] I forgot--I 'm deserting +you. + + [And swiftly without looking back she goes away. Joy, left alone + under the hollow tree, crouches lower, and her shoulders shake. + Here DICK finds her, when he hears no longer any sound o f + voices. He falls on his knees beside her.] + +DICK. Oh! Joy; dear, don't cry. It's so dreadful to see you! I 'd +do anything not to see you cry! Say something. + + [Joy is still for a moment, then the shaking of the shoulders + begins again.] + +Joy, darling! It's so awful, you 'll make yourself ill, and it is +n't worth it, really. I 'd do anything to save you pain--won't you +stop just for a minute? + + [Joy is still again.] + +Nothing in the world 's worth your crying, Joy. Give me just a +little look! + +JOY. [Looking; in a smothered voice.] Don't! + +DICK. You do look so sweet! Oh, Joy, I'll comfort you, I'll take it +all on myself. I know all about it. + + [Joy gives a sobbing laugh] + +I do. I 've had trouble too, I swear I have. It gets better, it +does really. + +JOY. You don't know--it's--it's---- + +DICK. Don't think about it! No, no, no! I know exactly what it's +like. [He strokes her arm.] + +JOY. [Shrinking, in a whisper.] You mustn't. + + [The music of a waltz is heard again.] + +DICK. Look here, joy! It's no good, we must talk it over calmly. + +JOY. You don't see! It's the--it 's the disgrace---- + +DICK. Oh! as to disgrace--she's your Mother, whatever she does; I'd +like to see anybody say anything about her--[viciously]--I'd punch +his head. + +JOY. [Gulping her tears.] That does n't help. + +DICK. But if she doesn't love your Father---- + +JOY. But she's married to him! + +DICK. [Hastily.] Yes, of course, I know, marriage is awfully +important; but a man understands these things. + + [Joy looks at him. Seeing the impression he has made, he tries + again.] + +I mean, he understands better than a woman. I've often argued about +moral questions with men up at Oxford. + +JOY. [Catching at a straw.] But there's nothing to argue about. + +DICK. [Hastily.] Of course, I believe in morals. + + [They stare solemnly at each other.] + +Some men don't. But I can't help seeing marriage is awfully +important. + +JOY. [Solemnly.] It's sacred. + +DICK. Yes, I know, but there must be exceptions, Joy. + +Joy. [Losing herself a little in the stress of this discussion.] +How can there be exceptions if a thing 's sacred? + +DICK. [Earnestly.] All rules have exceptions; that's true, you +know; it's a proverb. + +JOY. It can't be true about marriage--how can it when----? + +DICK. [With intense earnestness.] But look here, Joy, I know a +really clever man--an author. He says that if marriage is a failure +people ought to be perfectly free; it isn't everybody who believes +that marriage is everything. Of course, I believe it 's sacred, but +if it's a failure, I do think it seems awful--don't you? + +JOY. I don't know--yes--if--[Suddenly] But it's my own Mother! + +DICK. [Gravely.] I know, of course. I can't expect you to see it +in your own case like this. [With desperation.] But look here, Joy, +this'll show you! If a person loves a person, they have to decide, +have n't they? Well, then, you see, that 's what your Mother's done. + +JOY. But that does n't show me anything! + +DICK. But it does. The thing is to look at it as if it was n't +yourself. If it had been you and me in love, Joy, and it was wrong, +like them, of course [ruefully] I know you'd have decided right. +[Fiercely.] But I swear I should have decided wrong. +[Triumphantly.] That 's why I feel I understand your Mother. + +JOY. [Brushing her sleeve across her eyes.] Oh, Dick, you are so +sweet--and--and--funny! + +DICK. [Sliding his arm about her.] I love you, Joy, that 's why, +and I 'll love you till you don't feel it any more. I will. I'll +love you all day and every day; you shan't miss anything, I swear it. +It 's such a beautiful night--it 's on purpose. Look' [JOY looks; he +looks at her.] But it 's not so beautiful as you. + +JOY. [Bending her head.] You mustn't. I don't know--what's coming? + +DICK. [Sidling closer.] Are n't your knees tired, darling? I--I +can't get near you properly. + +JOY. [With a sob.] Oh! Dick, you are a funny--comfort! + +DICK. We'll stick together, Joy, always; nothing'll matter then. + + [They struggle to their feet-the waltz sounds louder.] + +You're missing it all! I can't bear you to miss the dancing. It +seems so queer! Couldn't we? Just a little turn? + +JOY. No, no? + +DICK. Oh! try! + + [He takes her gently by the waist, she shrinks back.] + +JOY. [Brokenly.] No-no! Oh! Dick-to-morrow 'll be so awful. + +DICK. To-morrow shan't hurt you, Joy; nothing shall ever hurt you +again. + + [She looks at him, and her face changes; suddenly she buries it + against his shoulder.] + +[They stand so just a moment in the moon light; then turning to the +river move slowly out of sight. Again the hollow tree is left alone. +The music of the waltz has stopped. The voices of MISS BEECH and the +COLONEL are heard approaching from the house. They appear in the +opening of the wall. The COLONEL carries a pair of field glasses +with which to look at the Moon.] + +COLONEL. Charming to see Molly dance with Lever, their steps go so +well together! I can always tell when a woman's enjoying herself, +Peachey. + +MISS BEECH. [Sharply.] Can you? You're very clever. + +COLONEL. Wonderful, that moon! I'm going to have a look at her! +Splendid glasses these, Peachy [he screws them out], not a better +pair in England. I remember in Burmah with these glasses I used to +be able to tell a man from a woman at two miles and a quarter. And +that's no joke, I can tell you. [But on his way to the moon, he has +taken a survey of the earth to the right along the river. In a low +but excited voice] I say, I say--is it one of the maids--the +baggage! Why! It's Dick! By George, she's got her hair down, +Peachey! It's Joy! + + [MISS BEECH goes to look. He makes as though to hand the + glasses to her, but puts them to his own eyes instead-- + excitedly.] + +It is! What about her headache? By George, they're kissing. I say, +Peachey! I shall have to tell Nell! + +MISS BEECH. Are you sure they're kissing? Well, that's some +comfort. + +COLONEL. They're at the stile now. Oughtn't I to stop them, eh? +[He stands on tiptoe.] We must n't spy on them, dash it all. [He +drops the glasses.] They're out of sight now. + +MISS BEECH. [To herself.] He said he wouldn't let her. + +COLONEL. What! have you been encouraging them! + +MISS BEECH. Don't be in such a hurry! + + [She moves towards the hollow tree.] + +COLONEL. [Abstractedly.] By George, Peachey, to think that Nell and +I were once--Poor Nell! I remember just such a night as this + + [He stops, and stares before him, sighing.] + +MISS BEECH, [Impressively.] It's a comfort she's got that good young +man. She's found out that her mother and this Mr. Lever are--you +know. + +COLONEL. [Losing all traces of his fussiness, and drawing himself up +as though he were on parade.] You tell me that my niece? + +MISS BEECH. Out of her own mouth! + +COLONEL. [Bowing his head.] I never would have believed she'd have +forgotten herself. + +MISS BEECH. [Very solemnly.] Ah, my dear! We're all the same; +we're all as hollow as that tree! When it's ourselves it's always a +special case! + + [The COLONEL makes a movement of distress, and Miss BEECH goes + to him.] + +Don't you take it so to heart, my dear! + + [A silence.] + +COLONEL. [Shaking his head.] I couldn't have believed Molly would +forget that child. + +MISS BEECH. [Sadly.] They must go their own ways, poor things! She +can't put herself in the child's place, and the child can't put +herself in Molly's. A woman and a girl--there's the tree of life +between them! + +COLONEL. [Staring into the tree to see indeed if that were the tree +alluded to.] It's a grief to me, Peachey, it's a grief! [He sinks +into a chair, stroking his long moustaches. Then to avenge his +hurt.] Shan't tell Nell--dashed if I do anything to make the trouble +worse! + +MISS BEECH. [Nodding.] There's suffering enough, without adding to +it with our trumpery judgments! If only things would last between +them! + +COLONEL. [Fiercely.] Last! By George, they'd better---- + + [He stops, and looking up with a queer sorry look.] + +I say, Peachey Life's very funny! + +MISS BEECH. Men and women are! [Touching his forehead tenderly.] +There, there--take care of your poor, dear head! Tsst! The blessed +innocents! + + [She pulls the COLONEL'S sleeve. They slip away towards the + house, as JOY and DICK come back. They are still linked + together, and stop by the hollow tree.] + +JOY. [In a whisper.] Dick, is love always like this? + +DICK. [Putting his arms around her, with conviction.] It's never +been like this before. It's you and me! + + [He kisses her on the lips.] + + + + The curtain falls. + + + + +End of this Project Gutenberg Etext of JOY (play) +by John Galsworthy + + + + + + +STRIFE + +A DRAMA IN THREE ACTS + + + + +PERSONS OF THE PLAY + +JOHN ANTHONY, Chairman of the Trenartha Tin Plate Works +EDGAR ANTHONY, his Son + +FREDERIC H. WILDER, | +WILLIAM SCANTLEBURY,| Directors Of the same +OLIVER WANKLIN, | + +HENRY TENCH, Secretary of the same +FRANCIS UNDERWOOD, C.E., Manager of the same +SIMON HARNESS, a Trades Union official + +DAVID ROBERTS, | +JAMES GREEN, | +JOHN BULGIN, | the workmen's committee +HENRY THOMAS, | +GEORGE ROUS, | + +HENRY ROUS, | +LEWIS, | +JAGO, | +EVANS, | workman at the Trenartha Tin Plate Works +A BLACKSMITH, | +DAVIES, | +A RED-HAIRED YOUTH. | +BROWN | + +FROST, valet to John Anthony +ENID UNDERWOOD, Wife of Francis Underwood, daughter of John Anthony +ANNIE ROBERTS, wife of David Roberts +MADGE THOMAS, daughter of Henry Thomas +MRS. ROUS, mother of George and Henry Rous +MRS. BULGIN, wife of John Bulgin +MRS. YEO, wife of a workman +A PARLOURMAID to the Underwoods +JAN, Madge's brother, a boy of ten +A CROWD OF MEN ON STRIKE + + + + + +ACT I. The dining-room of the Manager's house. + +ACT II, + SCENE I. The kitchen of the Roberts's cottage near the works. + SCENE II. A space outside the works. + +ACT III. The drawing-room of the Manager's house. + + + +The action takes place on February 7th between the hours of noon and +six in the afternoon, close to the Trenartha Tin Plate Works, on the +borders of England and Wales, where a strike has been in progress +throughout the winter. + + + + + +ACT I + + + It is noon. In the Underwoods' dining-room a bright fire is + burning. On one side of the fireplace are double-doors leading + to the drawing-room, on the other side a door leading to the + hall. In the centre of the room a long dining-table without a + cloth is set out as a Board table. At the head of it, in the + Chairman's seat, sits JOHN ANTHONY, an old man, big, clean- + shaven, and high-coloured, with thick white hair, and thick dark + eyebrows. His movements are rather slow and feeble, but his + eyes are very much alive. There is a glass of water by his + side. On his right sits his son EDGAR, an earnest-looking man + of thirty, reading a newspaper. Next him WANKLIN, a man with + jutting eyebrows, and silver-streaked light hair, is bending + over transfer papers. TENCH, the Secretary, a short and rather + humble, nervous man, with side whiskers, stands helping him. On + WANKLIN'S right sits UNDERWOOD, the Manager, a quiet man, with + along, stiff jaw, and steady eyes. Back to the fire is + SCANTLEBURY, a very large, pale, sleepy man, with grey hair, + rather bald. Between him and the Chairman are two empty chairs. + +WILDER. [Who is lean, cadaverous, and complaining, with drooping +grey moustaches, stands before the fire.] I say, this fire's the +devil! Can I have a screen, Tench? + +SCANTLEBURY. A screen, ah! + +TENCH. Certainly, Mr. Wilder. [He looks at UNDERWOOD.] That is-- +perhaps the Manager--perhaps Mr. Underwood---- + +SCANTLEBURY. These fireplaces of yours, Underwood---- + +UNDERWOOD. [Roused from studying some papers.] A screen? Rather! +I'm sorry. [He goes to the door with a little smile.] We're not +accustomed to complaints of too much fire down here just now. + + [He speaks as though he holds a pipe between his teeth, slowly, + ironically.] + +WILDER. [In an injured voice.] You mean the men. H'm! + + [UNDERWOOD goes out.] + +SCANTLEBURY. Poor devils! + +WILDER. It's their own fault, Scantlebury. + +EDGAR. [Holding out his paper.] There's great distress among them, +according to the Trenartha News. + +WILDER. Oh, that rag! Give it to Wanklin. Suit his Radical views. +They call us monsters, I suppose. The editor of that rubbish ought +to be shot. + +EDGAR. [Reading.] "If the Board of worthy gentlemen who control the +Trenartha Tin Plate Works from their arm-chairs in London would +condescend to come and see for themselves the conditions prevailing +amongst their work-people during this strike----" + +WILDER. Well, we have come. + +EDGAR. [Continuing.] "We cannot believe that even their leg-of- +mutton hearts would remain untouched." + + [WANKLIN takes the paper from him.] + +WILDER. Ruffian! I remember that fellow when he had n't a penny to +his name; little snivel of a chap that's made his way by black- +guarding everybody who takes a different view to himself. + + [ANTHONY says something that is not heard.] + +WILDER. What does your father say? + +EDGAR. He says "The kettle and the pot." + +WILDER. H'm! + + [He sits down next to SCANTLEBURY.] + +SCANTLEBURY. [Blowing out his cheeks.] I shall boil if I don't get +that screen. + + [UNDERWOOD and ENID enter with a screen, which they place before + the fire. ENID is tall; she has a small, decided face, and is + twenty-eight years old.] + +ENID. Put it closer, Frank. Will that do, Mr. Wilder? It's the +highest we've got. + +WILDER. Thanks, capitally. + +SCANTLEBURY. [Turning, with a sigh of pleasure.] Ah! Merci, +Madame! + +ENID. Is there anything else you want, Father? [ANTHONY shakes his +head.] Edgar--anything? + +EDGAR. You might give me a "J" nib, old girl. + +ENID. There are some down there by Mr. Scantlebury. + +SCANTLEBURY. [Handing a little box of nibs.] Ah! your brother uses +"J's." What does the manager use? [With expansive politeness.] +What does your husband use, Mrs. Underwood? + +UNDERWOOD. A quill! + +SCANTLEBURY. The homely product of the goose. [He holds out +quills.] + +UNDERWOOD. [Drily.] Thanks, if you can spare me one. [He takes a +quill.] What about lunch, Enid? + +ENID. [Stopping at the double-doors and looking back.] We're going +to have lunch here, in the drawing-room, so you need n't hurry with +your meeting. + + [WANKLIN and WILDER bow, and she goes out.] + +SCANTLEBURY. [Rousing himself, suddenly.] Ah! Lunch! That hotel-- +Dreadful! Did you try the whitebait last night? Fried fat! + +WILDER. Past twelve! Are n't you going to read the minutes, Tench? + +TENCH. [Looking for the CHAIRMAN'S assent, reads in a rapid and +monotonous voice.] "At a Board Meeting held the 31st of January at +the Company's Offices, 512, Cannon Street, E.C. Present--Mr. Anthony +in the chair, Messrs. F. H. Wilder, William Scantlebury, Oliver +Wanklin, and Edgar Anthony. Read letters from the Manager dated +January 20th, 23d, 25th, 28th, relative to the strike at the +Company's Works. Read letters to the Manager of January 21st, 24th, +26th, 29th. Read letter from Mr. Simon Harness, of the Central +Union, asking for an interview with the Board. Read letter from the +Men's Committee, signed David Roberts, James Green, John Bulgin, +Henry Thomas, George Rous, desiring conference with the Board; and it +was resolved that a special Board Meeting be called for February 7th +at the house of the Manager, for the purpose of discussing the +situation with Mr. Simon Harness and the Men's Committee on the spot. +Passed twelve transfers, signed and sealed nine certificates and one +balance certificate." + +[He pushes the book over to the CHAIRMAN.] + +ANTHONY. [With a heavy sigh.] If it's your pleasure, sign the same. + + [He signs, moving the pen with difficulty. ] + +WANKLIN. What's the Union's game, Tench? They have n't made up +their split with the men. What does Harness want this interview for? + +TENCH. Hoping we shall come to a compromise, I think, sir; he's +having a meeting with the men this afternoon. + +WILDER. Harness! Ah! He's one of those cold-blooded, cool-headed +chaps. I distrust them. I don't know that we didn't make a mistake +to come down. What time'll the men be here? + +UNDERWOOD. Any time now. + +WILDER. Well, if we're not ready, they'll have to wait--won't do +them any harm to cool their heels a bit. + +SCANTLEBURY. [Slowly.] Poor devils! It's snowing. What weather! + +UNDERWOOD. [With meaning slowness.] This house'll be the warmest +place they've been in this winter. + +WILDER. Well, I hope we're going to settle this business in time for +me to catch the 6.30. I've got to take my wife to Spain to-morrow. +[Chattily.] My old father had a strike at his works in '69 ; just +such a February as this. They wanted to shoot him. + +WANKLIN. What! In the close season? + +WILDER. By George, there was no close season for employers then! He +used to go down to his office with a pistol in his pocket. + +SCANTLEBURY. [Faintly alarmed.] Not seriously? + +WILDER. [With finality.] Ended in his shootin' one of 'em in the +legs. + +SCANTLEBURY. [Unavoidably feeling his thigh.] No? Which? + +ANTHONY. [Lifting the agenda paper.] To consider the policy of the +Board in relation to the strike. [There is a silence.] + +WILDER. It's this infernal three-cornered duel--the Union, the men, +and ourselves. + +WANKLIN. We need n't consider the Union. + +WILDER. It's my experience that you've always got to, consider the +Union, confound them! If the Union were going to withdraw their +support from the men, as they've done, why did they ever allow them +to strike at all? + +EDGAR. We've had that over a dozen times. + +WILDER. Well, I've never understood it! It's beyond me. They talk +of the engineers' and furnace-men's demands being excessive--so they +are--but that's not enough to make the Union withdraw their support. +What's behind it? + +UNDERWOOD. Fear of strikes at Harper's and Tinewell's. + +WILDER. [With triumph.] Afraid of other strikes--now, that's a +reason! Why could n't we have been told that before? + +UNDERWOOD. You were. + +TENCH. You were absent from the Board that day, sir. + +SCANTLEBURY. The men must have seen they had no chance when the +Union gave them up. It's madness. + +UNDERWOOD. It's Roberts! + +WILDER. Just our luck, the men finding a fanatical firebrand like +Roberts for leader. [A pause.] + +WANKLIN. [Looking at ANTHONY.] Well? + +WILDER. [Breaking in fussily.] It's a regular mess. I don't like +the position we're in; I don't like it; I've said so for a long time. +[Looking at WANKLIN.] When Wanklin and I came down here before +Christmas it looked as if the men must collapse. You thought so too, +Underwood. + +UNDERWOOD. Yes. + +WILDER. Well, they haven't! Here we are, going from bad to worse +losing our customers--shares going down! + +SCANTLEBURY. [Shaking his head.] M'm! M'm! + +WANKLIN. What loss have we made by this strike, Tench? + +TENCH. Over fifty thousand, sir! + +SCANTLEBURY, [Pained.] You don't say! + +WILDER. We shall never got it back. + +TENCH. No, sir. + +WILDER. Who'd have supposed the men were going to stick out like +this--nobody suggested that. [Looking angrily at TENCH.] + +SCANTLEBURY. [Shaking his head.] I've never liked a fight--never +shall. + +ANTHONY. No surrender! [All look at him.] + +WILDER. Who wants to surrender? [ANTHONY looks at him.] I--I want +to act reasonably. When the men sent Roberts up to the Board in +December--then was the time. We ought to have humoured him; instead +of that the Chairman--[Dropping his eyes before ANTHONY'S]--er--we +snapped his head off. We could have got them in then by a little +tact. + +ANTHONY. No compromise! + +WILDER. There we are! This strike's been going on now since +October, and as far as I can see it may last another six months. +Pretty mess we shall be in by then. The only comfort is, the men'll +be in a worse! + +EDGAR. [To UNDERWOOD.] What sort of state are they really in, +Frank? + +UNDERWOOD. [Without expression.] Damnable! + +WILDER. Well, who on earth would have thought they'd have held on +like this without support! + +UNDERWOOD. Those who know them. + +WILDER. I defy any one to know them! And what about tin? Price +going up daily. When we do get started we shall have to work off our +contracts at the top of the market. + +WANKLIN. What do you say to that, Chairman? + +ANTHONY. Can't be helped! + +WILDER. Shan't pay a dividend till goodness knows when! + +SCANTLEBURY. [With emphasis.] We ought to think of the +shareholders. [Turning heavily.] Chairman, I say we ought to think +of the shareholders. [ANTHONY mutters.] + +SCANTLEBURY. What's that? + +TENCH. The Chairman says he is thinking of you, sir. + +SCANTLEBURY. [Sinking back into torpor.] Cynic! + +WILDER. It's past a joke. I don't want to go without a dividend for +years if the Chairman does. We can't go on playing ducks and drakes +with the Company's prosperity. + +EDGAR. [Rather ashamedly.] I think we ought to consider the men. + + [All but ANTHONY fidget in their seats.] + +SCANTLEBURY. [With a sigh.] We must n't think of our private +feelings, young man. That'll never do. + +EDGAR. [Ironically.] I'm not thinking of our feelings. I'm +thinking of the men's. + +WILDER. As to that--we're men of business. + +WANKLIN. That is the little trouble. + +EDGAR. There's no necessity for pushing things so far in the face of +all this suffering--it's--it's cruel. + + [No one speaks, as though EDGAR had uncovered something whose + existence no man prizing his self-respect could afford to + recognise.] + +WANKLIN. [With an ironical smile.] I'm afraid we must n't base our +policy on luxuries like sentiment. + +EDGAR. I detest this state of things. + +ANTHONY. We did n't seek the quarrel. + +EDGAR. I know that sir, but surely we've gone far enough. + +ANTHONY. No. [All look at one another.] + +WANKLIN. Luxuries apart, Chairman, we must look out what we're +doing. + +ANTHONY. Give way to the men once and there'll be no end to it. + +WANKLIN. I quite agree, but---- + + [ANTHONY Shakes his head] + +You make it a question of bedrock principle? + + [ANTHONY nods.] + +Luxuries again, Chairman! The shares are below par. + +WILDER. Yes, and they'll drop to a half when we pass the next +dividend. + +SCANTLEBURY. [With alarm.] Come, come! Not so bad as that. + +WILDER. [Grimly.] You'll see! [Craning forward to catch ANTHONY'S +speech.] I didn't catch---- + +TENCH. [Hesitating.] The Chairman says, sir, "Fais que--que--devra." + +EDGAR. [Sharply.] My father says: "Do what we ought--and let things +rip." + +WILDER. Tcha! + +SCANTLEBURY. [Throwing up his hands.] The Chairman's a Stoic--I +always said the Chairman was a Stoic. + +WILDER. Much good that'll do us. + +WANKLIN. [Suavely.] Seriously, Chairman, are you going to let the +ship sink under you, for the sake of--a principle? + +ANTHONY. She won't sink. + +SCANTLEBURY. [With alarm.] Not while I'm on the Board I hope. + +ANTHONY. [With a twinkle.] Better rat, Scantlebury. + +SCANTLEBURY. What a man! + +ANTHONY. I've always fought them; I've never been beaten yet. + +WANKLIN. We're with you in theory, Chairman. But we're not all made +of cast-iron. + +ANTHONY. We've only to hold on. + +WILDER. [Rising and going to the fire.] And go to the devil as fast +as we can! + +ANTHONY. Better go to the devil than give in! + +WILDER. [Fretfully.] That may suit you, sir, but it does n't suit +me, or any one else I should think. + + [ANTHONY looks him in the face-a silence.] + +EDGAR. I don't see how we can get over it that to go on like this +means starvation to the men's wives and families. + + [WILDER turns abruptly to the fire, and SCANTLEBURY puts out a + hand to push the idea away.] + +WANKLIN. I'm afraid again that sounds a little sentimental. + +EDGAR. Men of business are excused from decency, you think? + +WILDER. Nobody's more sorry for the men than I am, but if they +[lashing himself] choose to be such a pig-headed lot, it's nothing +to do with us; we've quite enough on our hands to think of ourselves +and the shareholders. + +EDGAR. [Irritably.] It won't kill the shareholders to miss a +dividend or two; I don't see that that's reason enough for knuckling +under. + +SCANTLEBURY. [With grave discomfort.] You talk very lightly of your +dividends, young man; I don't know where we are. + +WILDER. There's only one sound way of looking at it. We can't go on +ruining ourselves with this strike. + +ANTHONY. No caving in! + +SCANTLEBURY. [With a gesture of despair.] Look at him! + + [ANTHONY'S leaning back in his chair. They do look at him.] + +WILDER. [Returning to his seat.] Well, all I can say is, if that's +the Chairman's view, I don't know what we've come down here for. + +ANTHONY. To tell the men that we've got nothing for them---- +[Grimly.] They won't believe it till they hear it spoken in plain +English. + +WILDER. H'm! Shouldn't be a bit surprised if that brute Roberts had +n't got us down here with the very same idea. I hate a man with a +grievance. + +EDGAR. [Resentfully.] We didn't pay him enough for his discovery. +I always said that at the time. + +WILDER. We paid him five hundred and a bonus of two hundred three +years later. If that's not enough! What does he want, for goodness' +sake? + +TENCH. [Complainingly.] Company made a hundred thousand out of his +brains, and paid him seven hundred--that's the way he goes on, sir. + +WILDER. The man's a rank agitator! Look here, I hate the Unions. +But now we've got Harness here let's get him to settle the whole +thing. + +ANTHONY. No! [Again they look at him.] + +UNDERWOOD. Roberts won't let the men assent to that. + +SCANTLEBURY. Fanatic! Fanatic! + +WILDER. [Looking at ANTHONY.] And not the only one! [FROST enters +from the hall.] + +FROST. [To ANTHONY.] Mr. Harness from the Union, waiting, sir. The +men are here too, sir. + + [ANTHONY nods. UNDERWOOD goes to the door, returning with + HARNESS, a pale, clean-shaven man with hollow cheeks, quick + eyes, and lantern jaw--FROST has retired.] + +UNDERWOOD. [Pointing to TENCH'S chair.] Sit there next the +Chairman, Harness, won't you? + + [At HARNESS'S appearance, the Board have drawn together, as it + were, and turned a little to him, like cattle at a dog.] + +HARNESS. [With a sharp look round, and a bow.] Thanks! [He sits--- +his accent is slightly nasal.] Well, gentlemen, we're going to do +business at last, I hope. + +WILDER. Depends on what you call business, Harness. Why don't you +make the men come in? + +HARNESS. [Sardonically.] The men are far more in the right than you +are. The question with us is whether we shan't begin to support them +again. + + [He ignores them all, except ANTHONY, to whom he turns in + speaking.] + +ANTHONY. Support them if you like; we'll put in free labour and have +done with it. + +HARNESS. That won't do, Mr. Anthony. You can't get free labour, and +you know it. + +ANTHONY. We shall see that. + +HARNESS. I'm quite frank with you. We were forced to withhold our +support from your men because some of their demands are in excess of +current rates. I expect to make them withdraw those demands to-day: +if they do, take it straight from me, gentlemen, we shall back them +again at once. Now, I want to see something fixed upon before I go +back to-night. Can't we have done with this old-fashioned tug-of-war +business? What good's it doing you? Why don't you recognise once +for all that these people are men like yourselves, and want what's +good for them just as you want what's good for you [Bitterly.] Your +motor-cars, and champagne, and eight-course dinners. + +ANTHONY. If the men will come in, we'll do something for them. + +HARNESS. [Ironically.] Is that your opinion too, sir--and yours-- +and yours? [The Directors do not answer.] Well, all I can say is: +It's a kind of high and mighty aristocratic tone I thought we'd grown +out of--seems I was mistaken. + +ANTHONY. It's the tone the men use. Remains to be seen which can +hold out longest--they without us, or we without them. + +HARNESS. As business men, I wonder you're not ashamed of this waste +of force, gentlemen. You know what it'll all end in. + +ANTHONY. What? + +HARNESS. Compromise--it always does. + +SCANTLEBURY. Can't you persuade the men that their interests are the +same as ours? + +HARNESS. [Turning, ironically.] I could persuade them of that, sir, +if they were. + +WILDER. Come, Harness, you're a clever man, you don't believe all +the Socialistic claptrap that's talked nowadays. There 's no real +difference between their interests and ours. + +HARNESS. There's just one very simple question I'd like to put to +you. Will you pay your men one penny more than they force you to pay +them? + + [WILDER is silent.] + +WANKLIN. [Chiming in.] I humbly thought that not to pay more than +was necessary was the A B C of commerce. + +HARNESS. [With irony.] Yes, that seems to be the A B C of commerce, +sir; and the A B C of commerce is between your interests and the +men's. + +SCANTLEBURY. [Whispering.] We ought to arrange something. + +HARNESS. [Drily.] Am I to understand then, gentlemen, that your +Board is going to make no concessions? + + [WANKLIN and WILDER bend forward as if to speak, but stop.] + +ANTHONY. [Nodding.] None. + + [WANKLIN and WILDER again bend forward, and SCANTLEBURY gives an + unexpected grunt.] + +HARNESS. You were about to say something, I believe? + + [But SCANTLEBURY says nothing.] + +EDGAR. [Looking up suddenly.] We're sorry for the state of the men. + +HARNESS. [Icily.] The men have no use for your pity, sir. What +they want is justice. + +ANTHONY. Then let them be just. + +HARNESS. For that word "just" read "humble," Mr. Anthony. Why +should they be humble? Barring the accident of money, are n't they +as good men as you? + +ANTHONY. Cant! + +HARNESS. Well, I've been five years in America. It colours a man's +notions. + +SCANTLEBURY. [Suddenly, as though avenging his uncompleted grunt.] +Let's have the men in and hear what they've got to say! + + [ANTHONY nods, and UNDERWOOD goes out by the single door.] + +HARNESS. [Drily.] As I'm to have an interview with them this +afternoon, gentlemen, I 'll ask you to postpone your final decision +till that's over. + + [Again ANTHONY nods, and taking up his glass drinks.] + + [UNDERWOOD comes in again, followed by ROBERTS, GREEN, BULGIN, + THOMAS, ROUS. They file in, hat in hand, and stand silent in a + row. ROBERTS is lean, of middle height, with a slight stoop. + He has a little rat-gnawn, brown-grey beard, moustaches, high + cheek-bones, hollow cheeks, small fiery eyes. He wears an old + and grease-stained blue serge suit, and carries an old bowler + hat. He stands nearest the Chairman. GREEN, next to him, has a + clean, worn face, with a small grey goatee beard and drooping + moustaches, iron spectacles, and mild, straightforward eyes. He + wears an overcoat, green with age, and a linen collar. Next to + him is BULGIN, a tall, strong man, with a dark moustache, and + fighting jaw, wearing a red muffler, who keeps changing his cap + from one hand to the other. Next to him is THOMAS, an old man + with a grey moustache, full beard, and weatherbeaten, bony face, + whose overcoat discloses a lean, plucked-looking neck. On his + right, ROUS, the youngest of the five, looks like a soldier; he + has a glitter in his eyes.] + +UNDERWOOD. [Pointing.] There are some chairs there against the +wall, Roberts; won't you draw them up and sit down? + +ROBERTS. Thank you, Mr. Underwood--we'll stand in the presence of +the Board. [He speaks in a biting and staccato voice, rolling his +r's, pronouncing his a's like an Italian a, and his consonants short +and crisp.] How are you, Mr. Harness? Did n't expect t' have the +pleasure of seeing you till this afternoon. + +HARNESS. [Steadily.] We shall meet again then, Roberts. + +ROBERTS. Glad to hear that; we shall have some news for you to take +to your people. + +ANTHONY. What do the men want? + +ROBERTS. [Acidly.] Beg pardon, I don't quite catch the Chairman's +remark. + +TENCH. [From behind the Chairman's chair.] The Chairman wishes to +know what the men have to say. + +ROBERTS. It's what the Board has to say we've come to hear. It's +for the Board to speak first. + +ANTHONY. The Board has nothing to say. + +ROBERTS. [Looking along the line of men.] In that case we're +wasting the Directors' time. We'll be taking our feet off this +pretty carpet. + + [He turns, the men move slowly, as though hypnotically + influenced.] + +WANKLIN: [Suavely.] Come, Roberts, you did n't give us this long +cold journey for the pleasure of saying that. + +THOMAS. [A pure Welshman.] No, sir, an' what I say iss---- + +ROBERTS.[Bitingly.] Go on, Henry Thomas, go on. You 're better able +to speak to the--Directors than me. [THOMAS is silent.] + +TENCH. The Chairman means, Roberts, that it was the men who asked +for the conference, the Board wish to hear what they have to say. + +ROBERTS. Gad! If I was to begin to tell ye all they have to say, I +wouldn't be finished to-day. And there'd be some that'd wish they'd +never left their London palaces. + +HARNESS. What's your proposition, man? Be reasonable. + +ROBERTS. You want reason Mr. Harness? Take a look round this +afternoon before the meeting. [He looks at the men; no sound escapes +them.] You'll see some very pretty scenery. + +HARNESS. All right my friend; you won't put me off. + +ROBERTS. [To the men.] We shan't put Mr. Harness off. Have some +champagne with your lunch, Mr. Harness; you'll want it, sir. + +HARNESS. Come, get to business, man! + +THOMAS. What we're asking, look you, is just simple justice. + +ROBERTS. [Venomously.] Justice from London? What are you talking +about, Henry Thomas? Have you gone silly? [THOMAS is silent.] We +know very well what we are--discontented dogs--never satisfied. What +did the Chairman tell me up in London? That I did n't know what I +was talking about. I was a foolish, uneducated man, that knew +nothing of the wants of the men I spoke for, + +EDGAR. Do please keep to the point. + +ANTHONY. [Holding up his hand.] There can only be one master, +Roberts. + +ROBERTS. Then, be Gad, it'll be us. + + [There is a silence; ANTHONY and ROBERTS stare at one another.] + +UNDERWOOD. If you've nothing to say to the Directors, Roberts, +perhaps you 'll let Green or Thomas speak for the men. + + [GREEN and THOMAS look anxiously at ROBERTS, at each other, and + the other men.] + +GREEN. [An Englishman.] If I'd been listened to, gentlemen---- + +THOMAS. What I'fe got to say iss what we'fe all got to say---- + +ROBERTS. Speak for yourself, Henry Thomas. + +SCANTLEBURY. [With a gesture of deep spiritual discomfort.] Let the +poor men call their souls their own! + +ROBERTS. Aye, they shall keep their souls, for it's not much body +that you've left them, Mr. [with biting emphasis, as though the word +were an offence] Scantlebury! [To the men.] Well, will you speak, +or shall I speak for you? + +ROUS. [Suddenly.] Speak out, Roberts, or leave it to others. + +ROBERTS. [Ironically.] Thank you, George Rous. [Addressing himself +to ANTHONY.] The Chairman and Board of Directors have honoured us by +leaving London and coming all this way to hear what we've got to say; +it would not be polite to keep them any longer waiting. + +WILDER. Well, thank God for that! + +ROBERTS. Ye will not dare to thank Him when I have done, Mr. Wilder, +for all your piety. May be your God up in London has no time to +listen to the working man. I'm told He is a wealthy God; but if he +listens to what I tell Him, He will know more than ever He learned in +Kensington. + +HARNESS. Come, Roberts, you have your own God. Respect the God of +other men. + +ROBERTS. That's right, sir. We have another God down here; I doubt +He is rather different to Mr. Wilder's. Ask Henry Thomas; he will +tell you whether his God and Mr. Wilder's are the same. + + [THOMAS lifts his hand, and cranes his head as though to + prophesy.] + +WANKLIN. For goodness' sake, let 's keep to the point, Roberts. + +ROBERTS. I rather think it is the point, Mr. Wanklin. If you can +get the God of Capital to walk through the streets of Labour, and pay +attention to what he sees, you're a brighter man than I take you for, +for all that you're a Radical. + +ANTHONY. Attend to me, Roberts! [Roberts is silent.] You are here +to speak for the men, as I am here to speak for the Board. + + [He looks slowly round.] + + [WILDER, WANKLIN, and SCANTLEBURY make movements of uneasiness, + and EDGAR gazes at the floor. A faint smile comes on HARNESS'S + face.] + +Now then, what is it? + +ROBERTS. Right, Sir! + + [Throughout all that follows, he and ANTHONY look fixedly upon + each other. Men and Directors show in their various ways + suppressed uneasiness, as though listening to words that they + themselves would not have spoken.] + +The men can't afford to travel up to London; and they don't trust you +to believe what they say in black and white. They know what the post +is [he darts a look at UNDERWOOD and TENCH], and what Directors' +meetings are: "Refer it to the manager--let the manager advise us on +the men's condition. Can we squeeze them a little more?" + +UNDERWOOD. [In a low voice.] Don't hit below the belt, Roberts! + +ROBERTS. Is it below the belt, Mr. Underwood? The men know. When I +came up to London, I told you the position straight. An' what came +of it? I was told I did n't know what I was talkin' about. I can't +afford to travel up to London to be told that again. + +ANTHONY. What have you to say for the men? + +ROBERTS. I have this to say--and first as to their condition. Ye +shall 'ave no need to go and ask your manager. Ye can't squeeze them +any more. Every man of us is well-nigh starving. [A surprised +murmur rises from the men. ROBERTS looks round.] Ye wonder why I +tell ye that? Every man of us is going short. We can't be no worse +off than we've been these weeks past. Ye need n't think that by +waiting yell drive us to come in. We'll die first, the whole lot of +us. The men have sent for ye to know, once and for all, whether ye +are going to grant them their demands. I see the sheet of paper in +the Secretary's hand. [TENCH moves nervously.] That's it, I think, +Mr. Tench. It's not very large. + +TENCH. [Nodding.] Yes. + +ROBERTS. There's not one sentence of writing on that paper that we +can do without. + + [A movement amongst the men. ROBERTS turns on them sharply.] + +Isn't that so? + + [The men assent reluctantly. ANTHONY takes from TENCH the paper + and peruses it.] + +Not one single sentence. All those demands are fair. We have not. +asked anything that we are not entitled to ask. What I said up in +London, I say again now: there is not anything on that piece of paper +that a just man should not ask, and a just man give. + + [A pause.] + +ANTHONY. There is not one single demand on this paper that we will +grant. + + [In the stir that follows on these words, ROBERTS watches the + Directors and ANTHONY the men. WILDER gets up abruptly and goes + over to the fire.] + +ROBERTS. D' ye mean that? + +ANTHONY. I do. + + [WILDER at the fire makes an emphatic movement of disgust.] + +ROBERTS. [Noting it, with dry intensity.] Ye best know whether the +condition of the Company is any better than the condition of the men. +[Scanning the Directors' faces.] Ye best know whether ye can afford +your tyranny--but this I tell ye: If ye think the men will give way +the least part of an inch, ye're making the worst mistake ye ever +made. [He fixes his eyes on SCANTLEBURY.] Ye think because the +Union is not supporting us--more shame to it!--that we'll be coming +on our knees to you one fine morning. Ye think because the men have +got their wives an' families to think of--that it's just a question +of a week or two---- + +ANTHONY. It would be better if you did not speculate so much on what +we think. + +ROBERTS. Aye! It's not much profit to us! I will say this for you, +Mr. Anthony--ye know your own mind! [Staying at ANTHONY.] I can +reckon on ye! + +ANTHONY. [Ironically.] I am obliged to you! + +ROBERTS. And I know mine. I tell ye this: The men will send their +wives and families where the country will have to keep them; an' they +will starve sooner than give way. I advise ye, Mr. Anthony, to +prepare yourself for the worst that can happen to your Company. We +are not so ignorant as you might suppose. We know the way the cat is +jumping. Your position is not all that it might be--not exactly! + +ANTHONY. Be good enough to allow us to judge of our position for +ourselves. Go back, and reconsider your own. + +ROBERTS. [Stepping forward.] Mr. Anthony, you are not a young man +now; from the time I remember anything ye have been an enemy to every +man that has come into your works. I don't say that ye're a mean +man, or a cruel man, but ye've grudged them the say of any word in +their own fate. Ye've fought them down four times. I've heard ye +say ye love a fight--mark my words--ye're fighting the last fight +yell ever fight + + [TENCH touches ROBERTS'S sleeve.] + +UNDERWOOD. Roberts! Roberts! + +ROBERTS. Roberts! Roberts! I must n't speak my mind to the +Chairman, but the Chairman may speak his mind to me! + +WILDER. What are things coming to? + +ANTHONY, [With a grim smile at WILDER.] Go on, Roberts; say what you +like! + +ROBERTS. [After a pause.] I have no more to say. + +ANTHONY. The meeting stands adjourned to five o'clock. + +WANKLIN. [In a low voice to UNDERWOOD.] We shall never settle +anything like this. + +ROBERTS. [Bitingly.] We thank the Chairman and Board of Directors +for their gracious hearing. + + [He moves towards the door; the men cluster together stupefied; + then ROUS, throwing up his head, passes ROBERTS and goes out. + The others follow.] + +ROBERTS. [With his hand on the door--maliciously.] Good day, +gentlemen! [He goes out.] + +HARNESS. [Ironically.] I congratulate you on the conciliatory +spirit that's been displayed. With your permission, gentlemen, I'll +be with you again at half-past five. Good morning! + + [He bows slightly, rests his eyes on ANTHONY, who returns his + stare unmoved, and, followed by UNDERWOOD, goes out. There is a + moment of uneasy silence. UNDERWOOD reappears in the doorway.] + +WILDER. [With emphatic disgust.] Well! + + [The double-doors are opened.] + +ENID. [Standing in the doorway.] Lunch is ready. + + [EDGAR, getting up abruptly, walks out past his sister.] + +WILDER. Coming to lunch, Scantlebury? + +SCANTLEBURY. [Rising heavily.] I suppose so, I suppose so. It's +the only thing we can do. + + [They go out through the double-doors.] + +WANKLIN. [In a low voice.] Do you really mean +to fight to a finish, Chairman? + + [ANTHONY nods.] + +WANKLIN. Take care! The essence of things is to know when to stop. + + [ANTHONY does not answer.] + +WANKLIN. [Very gravely.] This way disaster lies. The ancient +Trojans were fools to your father, Mrs. Underwood. [He goes out +through the double-doors.] + +ENID. I want to speak to father, Frank. + + [UNDERWOOD follows WANKLIN Out. TENCH, passing round the table, + is restoring order to the scattered pens and papers.] + +ENID. Are n't you coming, Dad? + + [ANTHONY Shakes his head. ENID looks meaningly at TENCH.] + +ENID. Won't you go and have some lunch, Mr. Tench? + +TENCH. [With papers in his hand.] Thank you, ma'am, thank you! [He +goes slowly, looking back.] + +ENID. [Shutting the doors.] I do hope it's settled, Father! + +ANTHONY. No! + +ENID. [Very disappointed.] Oh! Have n't you done anything! + + [ANTHONY shakes his head.] + +ENID. Frank says they all want to come to a compromise, really, +except that man Roberts. + +ANTHONY. I don't. + +ENID. It's such a horrid position for us. If you were the wife of +the manager, and lived down here, and saw it all. You can't realise, +Dad! + +ANTHONY. Indeed? + +ENID. We see all the distress. You remember my maid Annie, who +married Roberts? [ANTHONY nods.] It's so wretched, her heart's +weak; since the strike began, she has n't even been getting proper +food. I know it for a fact, Father. + +ANTHONY. Give her what she wants, poor woman! + +ENID. Roberts won't let her take anything from us. + +ANTHONY. [Staring before him.] I can't be answerable for the men's +obstinacy. + +ENID. They're all suffering. Father! Do stop it, for my sake! + +ANTHONY. [With a keen look at her.] You don't understand, my dear. + +ENID. If I were on the Board, I'd do something. + +ANTHONY. What would you do? + +ENID. It's because you can't bear to give way. It's so---- + +ANTHONY. Well? + +ENID. So unnecessary. + +ANTHONY. What do you know about necessity? Read your novels, play +your music, talk your talk, but don't try and tell me what's at the +bottom of a struggle like this. + +ENID. I live down here, and see it. + +ANTHONY. What d' you imagine stands between you and your class and +these men that you're so sorry for? + +ENID. [Coldly.] I don't know what you mean, Father. + +ANTHONY. In a few years you and your children would be down in the +condition they're in, but for those who have the eyes to see things +as they are and the backbone to stand up for themselves. + +ENID. You don't know the state the men are in. + +ANTHONY. I know it well enough. + +ENID. You don't, Father; if you did, you would n't + +ANTHONY. It's you who don't know the simple facts of the position. +What sort of mercy do you suppose you'd get if no one stood between +you and the continual demands of labour? This sort of mercy-- +[He puts his hand up to his throat and squeezes it.] First would go +your sentiments, my dear; then your culture, and your comforts would +be going all the time! + +ENID. I don't believe in barriers between classes. + +ANTHONY. You--don't--believe--in--barriers--between the classes? + +ENID. [Coldly.] And I don't know what that has to do with this +question. + +ANTHONY. It will take a generation or two for you to understand. + +ENID. It's only you and Roberts, Father, and you know it! + + [ANTHONY thrusts out his lower lip.] + +It'll ruin the Company. + +ANTHONY. Allow me to judge of that. + +ENID. [Resentfully.] I won't stand by and let poor Annie Roberts +suffer like this! And think of the children, Father! I warn you. + +ANTHONY. [With a grim smile.] What do you propose to do? + +ENID. That's my affair. + + [ANTHONY only looks at her.] + +ENID. [In a changed voice, stroking his sleeve.] Father, you know +you oughtn't to have this strain on you--you know what Dr. Fisher +said! + +ANTHONY. No old man can afford to listen to old women. + +ENID. But you have done enough, even if it really is such a matter +of principle with you. + +ANTHONY. You think so? + +ENID. Don't Dad! [Her face works.] You--you might think of us! + +ANTHONY. I am. + +ENID. It'll break you down. + +ANTHONY. [Slowly.] My dear, I am not going to funk; on that you may +rely. + + [Re-enter TENCH with papers; he glances at them, then plucking + up courage.] + +TENCH. Beg pardon, Madam, I think I'd rather see these papers were +disposed of before I get my lunch. + + [ENID, after an impatient glance at him, looks at her father, + turns suddenly, and goes into the drawing-room.] + +TENCH. [Holding the papers and a pen to ANTHONY, very nervously.] +Would you sign these for me, please sir? + + [ANTHONY takes the pen and signs.] + +TENCH. [Standing with a sheet of blotting-paper behind EDGAR'S +chair, begins speaking nervously.] I owe my position to you, sir. + +ANTHONY. Well? + +TENCH. I'm obliged to see everything that's going on, sir; I--I +depend upon the Company entirely. If anything were to happen to it, +it'd be disastrous for me. [ANTHONY nods.] And, of course, my +wife's just had another; and so it makes me doubly anxious just now. +And the rates are really terrible down our way. + +ANTHONY. [With grim amusement.] Not more terrible than they are up +mine. + +TENCH. No, Sir? [Very nervously.] I know the Company means a great +deal to you, sir. + +ANTHONY. It does; I founded it. + +TENCH. Yes, Sir. If the strike goes on it'll be very serious. I +think the Directors are beginning to realise that, sir. + +ANTHONY. [Ironically.] Indeed? + +TENCH. I know you hold very strong views, sir, and it's always your +habit to look things in the face; but I don't think the Directors-- +like it, sir, now they--they see it. + +ANTHONY. [Grimly.] Nor you, it seems. + +TENCH. [With the ghost of a smile.] No, sir; of course I've got my +children, and my wife's delicate; in my position I have to think of +these things. + + [ANTHONY nods.] + +It was n't that I was going to say, sir, if you'll excuse me---- +[hesitates] + +ANTHONY. Out with it, then! + +TENCH. I know--from my own father, sir, that when you get on in life +you do feel things dreadfully---- + +ANTHONY. [Almost paternally.] Come, out with it, Trench! + +TENCH. I don't like to say it, sir. + +ANTHONY. [Stonily.] You Must. + +TENCH. [After a pause, desperately bolting it out.] I think the +Directors are going to throw you over, sir. + +ANTHONY. [Sits in silence.] Ring the bell! + + [TENCH nervously rings the bell and stands by the fire.] + +TENCH. Excuse me for saying such a thing. I was only thinking of +you, sir. + + [FROST enters from the hall, he comes to the foot of the table, + and looks at ANTHONY; TENCH coveys his nervousness by arranging + papers.] + +ANTHONY. Bring me a whiskey and soda. + +FROST. Anything to eat, sir? + + [ANTHONY shakes his head. FROST goes to the sideboard, and + prepares the drink.] + +TENCH. [In a low voice, almost supplicating.] If you could see your +way, sir, it would be a great relief to my mind, it would indeed. +[He looks up at ANTHONY, who has not moved.] It does make me so very +anxious. I haven't slept properly for weeks, sir, and that's a fact. + + [ANTHONY looks in his face, then slowly shakes his head.] + +[Disheartened.] No, Sir? [He goes on arranging papers.] + + [FROST places the whiskey and salver and puts it down by + ANTHONY'S right hand. He stands away, looking gravely at + ANTHONY.] + +FROST. Nothing I can get you, sir? + + [ANTHONY shakes his head.] + +You're aware, sir, of what the doctor said, sir? + +ANTHONY. I am. + + [A pause. FROST suddenly moves closer to him, and speaks in a + low voice.] + +FROST. This strike, sir; puttin' all this strain on you. Excuse me, +sir, is it--is it worth it, sir? + + [ANTHONY mutters some words that are inaudible.] + +Very good, sir! + + [He turns and goes out into the hall. TENCH makes two attempts + to speak; but meeting his Chairman's gaze he drops his eyes, + and, turning dismally, he too goes out. ANTHONY is left alone. + He grips the glass, tilts it, and drinks deeply; then sets it + down with a deep and rumbling sigh, and leans back in his + chair.] + + + The curtain falls. + + + + + +ACT II + +SCENE I + + It is half-past three. In the kitchen of Roberts's cottage a + meagre little fire is burning. The room is clean and tidy, very + barely furnished, with a brick floor and white-washed walls, + much stained with smoke. There is a kettle on the fire. A door + opposite the fireplace opens inward from a snowy street. On the + wooden table are a cup and saucer, a teapot, knife, and plate of + bread and cheese. Close to the fireplace in an old arm-chair, + wrapped in a rug, sits MRS. ROBERTS, a thin and dark-haired + woman about thirty-five, with patient eyes. Her hair is not + done up, but tied back with a piece of ribbon. By the fire, + too, is MRS. YEO; a red-haired, broad-faced person. Sitting + near the table is MRS. ROUS, an old lady, ashen-white, with + silver hair; by the door, standing, as if about to go, is MRS. + BULGIN, a little pale, pinched-up woman. In a chair, with her + elbows resting on the table, avid her face resting in her hands, + sits MADGE THOMAS, a good-looking girl, of twenty-two, with high + cheekbones, deep-set eyes, and dark untidy hair. She is + listening to the talk, but she neither speaks nor moves. + + +MRS. YEO. So he give me a sixpence, and that's the first bit o' +money I seen this week. There an't much 'eat to this fire. Come and +warm yerself Mrs. Rous, you're lookin' as white as the snow, you are. + +MRS. ROUS. [Shivering--placidly.] Ah! but the winter my old man +was took was the proper winter. Seventy-nine that was, when none of +you was hardly born--not Madge Thomas, nor Sue Bulgin. [Looking at +them in turn.] Annie Roberts, 'ow old were you, dear? + +MRS ROBERTS. Seven, Mrs. Rous. + +MRS. ROUS. Seven--well, there! A tiny little thing! + +MRS. YEO. [Aggressively.] Well, I was ten myself, I remembers it. + +MRS. Rous. [Placidly.] The Company hadn't been started three years. +Father was workin' on the acid, that's 'ow he got 'is pisoned-leg. +I kep' sayin' to 'im, "Father, you've got a pisoned leg." "Well," 'e +said, "Mother, pison or no pison, I can't afford to go a-layin' up." +An' two days after, he was on 'is back, and never got up again. It +was Providence! There was n't none o' these Compensation Acts then. + +MRS. YEO. Ye had n't no strike that winter! [With grim humour.] +This winter's 'ard enough for me. Mrs. Roberts, you don't want no +'arder winter, do you? Wouldn't seem natural to 'ave a dinner, would +it, Mrs. Bulgin? + +MRS. BULGIN. We've had bread and tea last four days. + +MRS. YEO. You got that Friday's laundry job? + +MRS. BULGIN. [Dispiritedly.] They said they'd give it me, but when +I went last Friday, they were full up. I got to go again next week. + +MRS. YEO. Ah! There's too many after that. I send Yeo out on the +ice to put on the gentry's skates an' pick up what 'e can. Stops 'im +from broodin' about the 'ouse. + +MRS. BULGIN. [In a desolate, matter-of-fact voice.] Leavin' out the +men--it's bad enough with the children. I keep 'em in bed, they +don't get so hungry when they're not running about; but they're that +restless in bed they worry your life out. + +MRS. YEO. You're lucky they're all so small. It 's the goin' to +school that makes 'em 'ungry. Don't Bulgin give you anythin'? + +MRS. BULGIN. [Shakes her head, then, as though by afterthought.] +Would if he could, I s'pose. + +MRS. YEO. [Sardonically.] What! 'Ave n't 'e got no shares in the +Company? + +MRS. ROUS. [Rising with tremulous cheerfulness.] Well, good-bye, +Annie Roberts, I'm going along home. + +MRS. ROBERTS. Stay an' have a cup of tea, Mrs. Rous? + +MRS. ROUS. [With the faintest smile.] Roberts 'll want 'is tea when +he comes in. I'll just go an' get to bed; it's warmer there than +anywhere. + + [She moves very shakily towards the door.] + +MRS. YEO. [Rising and giving her an arm.] Come on, Mother, take my +arm; we're all going' the same way. + +MRS. ROUS. [Taking the arm.]Thank you, my dearies! + + [THEY go out, followed by MRS. BULGIN.] + +MADGE. [Moving for the first time.] There, Annie, you see that! I +told George Rous, "Don't think to have my company till you've made an +end of all this trouble. You ought to be ashamed," I said, "with +your own mother looking like a ghost, and not a stick to put on the +fire. So long as you're able to fill your pipes, you'll let us +starve." "I 'll take my oath, Madge," he said, "I 've not had smoke +nor drink these three weeks!" "Well, then, why do you go on with +it?" "I can't go back on Roberts!" . . . That's it! Roberts, +always Roberts! They'd all drop it but for him. When he talks it's +the devil that comes into them. + + [A silence. MRS. ROBERTS makes a movement of pain.] + +Ah! You don't want him beaten! He's your man. With everybody like +their own shadows! [She makes a gesture towards MRS. ROBERTS.] If +ROUS wants me he must give up Roberts. If he gave him up--they all +would. They're only waiting for a lead. Father's against him-- +they're all against him in their hearts. + +MRS. ROBERTS. You won't beat Roberts! + + [They look silently at each other.] + +MADGE. Won't I? The cowards--when their own mothers and their own +children don't know where to turn. + +MRS. ROBERTS. Madge! + +MADGE. [Looking searchingly at MRS. ROBERTS.] I wonder he can look +you in the face. [She squats before the fire, with her hands out to +the flame.] Harness is here again. They'll have to make up their +minds to-day. + +MRS. ROBERTS. [In a soft, slow voice, with a slight West-country +burr.] Roberts will never give up the furnace-men and engineers. +'T wouldn't be right. + +MADGE. You can't deceive me. It's just his pride. + + [A tapping at the door is heard, the women turn as ENID enters. + She wears a round fur cap, and a jacket of squirrel's fur. She + closes the door behind her.] + +ENID. Can I come in, Annie? + +MRS. ROBERTS. [Flinching.] Miss Enid! Give Mrs. Underwood a chair, +Madge! + + [MADGE gives ENID the chair she has been sitting on.] + +ENID. Thank you! + +ENID. Are you any better? + +MRS. ROBERTS. Yes, M'm; thank you, M'm. + +ENID. [Looking at the sullen MADGE as though requesting her +departure.] Why did you send back the jelly? I call that really +wicked of you! + +MRS. ROBERTS. Thank you, M'm, I'd no need for it. + +ENID. Of course! It was Roberts's doing, wasn't it? How can he let +all this suffering go on amongst you? + +MADGE. [Suddenly.] What suffering? + +ENID. [Surprised.] I beg your pardon! + +MADGE. Who said there was suffering? + +MRS. ROBERTS. Madge! + +MADGE. [Throwing her shawl over her head.] Please to let us keep +ourselves to ourselves. We don't want you coming here and spying on +us. + +ENID. [Confronting her, but without rising.] I did n't speak to +you. + +MADGE. [In a low, fierce voice.] Keep your kind feelings to +yourself. You think you can come amongst us, but you're mistaken. +Go back and tell the Manager that. + +ENID. [Stonily.] This is not your house. + +MADGE. [Turning to the door.] No, it is not my house; keep clear of +my house, Mrs. Underwood. + + [She goes out. ENID taps her fingers on the table.] + +MRS. ROBERTS. Please to forgive Madge Thomas, M'm; she's a bit upset +to-day. + + [A pause.] + +ENID. [Looking at her.] Oh, I think they're so stupid, all of them. + +MRS. ROBERTS. [With a faint smile]. Yes, M'm. + +ENID. Is Roberts out? + +MRS. ROBERTS. Yes, M'm. + +ENID. It is his doing, that they don't come to an agreement. Now is +n't it, Annie? + +MRS. ROBERTS. [Softly, with her eyes on ENID, and moving the fingers +of one hand continually on her breast.] They do say that your +father, M'm---- + +ENID. My father's getting an old man, and you know what old men are. + +MRS. ROBERTS. I am sorry, M'm. + +ENID. [More softly.] I don't expect you to feel sorry, Annie. I +know it's his fault as well as Roberts's. + +MRS. ROBERTS. I'm sorry for any one that gets old, M'm; it 's +dreadful to get old, and Mr. Anthony was such a fine old man, I +always used to think. + +ENID. [Impulsively.] He always liked you, don't you remember? Look +here, Annie, what can I do? I do so want to know. You don't get +what you ought to have. [Going to the fire, she takes the kettle +off, and looks for coals.] And you're so naughty sending back the +soup and things. + +MRS. ROBERTS. [With a faint smile.] Yes, M'm? + +ENID. [Resentfully.] Why, you have n't even got coals? + +MRS. ROBERTS. If you please, M'm, to put the kettle on again; +Roberts won't have long for his tea when he comes in. He's got to +meet the men at four. + +ENID. [Putting the kettle on.] That means he'll lash them into a +fury again. Can't you stop his going, Annie? + + [MRS. ROBERTS smiles ironically.] + +Have you tried? + + [A silence.] + +Does he know how ill you are? + +MRS. ROBERTS. It's only my weak 'eard, M'm. + +ENID. You used to be so well when you were with us. + +MRS. ROBERTS. [Stiffening.] Roberts is always good to me. + +ENID. But you ought to have everything you want, and you have +nothing! + +MRS. ROBERTS. [Appealingly.] They tell me I don't look like a dyin' +woman? + +ENID. Of course you don't; if you could only have proper--- Will you +see my doctor if I send him to you? I'm sure he'd do you good. + +MRS. ROBERTS. [With faint questioning.] Yes, M'm. + +ENID. Madge Thomas ought n't to come here; she only excites you. As +if I did n't know what suffering there is amongst the men! I do feel +for them dreadfully, but you know they have gone too far. + +MRS. ROBERTS. [Continually moving her fingers.] They say there's no +other way to get better wages, M'm. + +ENID. [Earnestly.] But, Annie, that's why the Union won't help +them. My husband's very sympathetic with the men, but he says they +are not underpaid. + +MRS. ROBERTS. No, M'm? + +ENID. They never think how the Company could go on if we paid the +wages they want. + +MRS. ROBERTS. [With an effort.] But the dividends having been so +big, M'm. + +ENID. [Takes aback.] You all seem to think the shareholders are +rich men, but they're not--most of them are really no better off than +working men. + + [MRS. ROBERTS smiles.] + +They have to keep up appearances. + +MRS. ROBERTS. Yes, M'm? + +ENID. You don't have to pay rates and taxes, and a hundred other +things that they do. If the men did n't spend such a lot in drink +and betting they'd be quite well off! + +MRS. ROBERTS. They say, workin' so hard, they must have some +pleasure. + +ENID. But surely not low pleasure like that. + +MRS. ROBERTS. [A little resentfully.] Roberts never touches a drop; +and he's never had a bet in his life. + +ENID. Oh! but he's not a com----I mean he's an engineer---- +a superior man. + +MRS. ROBERTS. Yes, M'm. Roberts says they've no chance of other +pleasures. + +ENID. [Musing.] Of course, I know it's hard. + +MRS. ROBERTS. [With a spice of malice.] And they say gentlefolk's +just as bad. + +ENID. [With a smile.] I go as far as most people, Annie, but you +know, yourself, that's nonsense. + +MRS. ROBERTS. [With painful effort.] A lot 'o the men never go near +the Public; but even they don't save but very little, and that goes +if there's illness. + +ENID. But they've got their clubs, have n't they? + +MRS. ROBERTS. The clubs only give up to eighteen shillin's a week, +M'm, and it's not much amongst a family. Roberts says workin' folk +have always lived from hand to mouth. Sixpence to-day is worth more +than a shillin' to-morrow, that's what they say. + +ENID. But that's the spirit of gambling. + +MRS. ROBERTS. [With a sort of excitement.] Roberts says a working +man's life is all a gamble, from the time 'e 's born to the time 'e +dies. + + [ENID leans forward, interested. MRS. ROBERTS goes on with a + growing excitement that culminates in the personal feeling of + the last words.] + +He says, M'm, that when a working man's baby is born, it's a toss-up +from breath to breath whether it ever draws another, and so on all +'is life; an' when he comes to be old, it's the workhouse or the +grave. He says that without a man is very near, and pinches and +stints 'imself and 'is children to save, there can't be neither +surplus nor security. That's why he wouldn't have no children [she +sinks back], not though I wanted them. + +ENID. Yes, yes, I know! + +MRS. ROBERTS. No you don't, M'm. You've got your children, and +you'll never need to trouble for them. + +ENID. [Gently.] You oughtn't to be talking so much, Annie. [Then, +in spite of herself.] But Roberts was paid a lot of money, was n't +he, for discovering that process? + +MRS. ROBERTS. [On the defensive.] All Roberts's savin's have gone. +He 's always looked forward to this strike. He says he's no right to +a farthing when the others are suffering. 'T is n't so with all o' +them! Some don't seem to care no more than that--so long as they get +their own. + +ENID. I don't see how they can be expected to when they 're +suffering like this. [In a changed voice.] But Roberts ought to +think of you! It's all terrible----! The kettle's boiling. Shall I +make the tea? [She takes the teapot and, seeing tea there, pours +water into it.] Won't you have a cup? + +MRS. ROBERTS. No, thank you, M'm. [She is listening, as though for +footsteps.] I'd--sooner you did n't see Roberts, M'm, he gets so +wild. + +ENID. Oh! but I must, Annie; I'll be quite calm, I promise. + +MRS. ROBERTS. It's life an' death to him, M'm. + +ENID. [Very gently.] I'll get him to talk to me outside, we won't +excite you. + +MRS. ROBERTS. [Faintly.] No, M'm. + + [She gives a violent start. ROBERTS has come in, unseen.] + +ROBERTS. [Removing his hat--with subtle mockery.] Beg pardon for +coming in; you're engaged with a lady, I see. + +ENID. Can I speak to you, Mr. Roberts? + +ROBERTS. Whom have I the pleasure of addressing, Ma'am? + +ENID. But surely you know me! I 'm Mrs. Underwood. + +ROBERTS. [With a bow of malice.] The daughter of our Chairman. + +ENID. [Earnestly.] I've come on purpose to speak to you; will you +come outside a minute? + + [She looks at MRS. ROBERTS.] + +ROBERTS. [Hanging up his hat.] I have nothing to say, Ma'am. + +ENID. But I must speak to you, please. + + [She moves towards the door.] + +ROBERTS. [With sudden venom.] I have not the time to listen! + +MRS. ROBERTS. David! + +ENID. Mr. Roberts, please! + +ROBERTS. [Taking off his overcoat.] I am sorry to disoblige a lady- +Mr. Anthony's daughter. + +ENID. [Wavering, then with sudden decision.] Mr. Roberts, I know +you've another meeting of the men. + + [ROBERTS bows.] + +I came to appeal to you. Please, please, try to come to some +compromise; give way a little, if it's only for your own sakes! + +ROBERTS. [Speaking to himself.] The daughter of Mr. Anthony begs me +to give way a little, if it's only for our own sakes! + +ENID. For everybody's sake; for your wife's sake. + +ROBERTS. For my wife's sake, for everybody's sake--for the sake of +Mr. Anthony. + +ENID. Why are you so bitter against my father? He has never done +anything to you. + +ROBERTS. Has he not? + +ENID. He can't help his views, any more than you can help yours. + +ROBERTS. I really did n't know that I had a right to views! + +ENID. He's an old man, and you---- + + [Seeing his eyes fixed on her, she stops.] + +ROBERTS. [Without raising his voice.] If I saw Mr. Anthony going to +die, and I could save him by lifting my hand, I would not lift the +little finger of it. + +ENID. You--you----[She stops again, biting her lips.] + +ROBERTS. I would not, and that's flat! + +ENID. [Coldly.] You don't mean what you say, and you know it! + +ROBERTS. I mean every word of it. + +ENID. But why? + +ROBERTS. [With a flash.] Mr. Anthony stands for tyranny! That's +why! + +ENID. Nonsense! + + [MRS. ROBERTS makes a movement as if to rise, but sinks back in + her chair.] + +ENID. [With an impetuous movement.] Annie! + +ROBERTS. Please not to touch my wife! + +ENID. [Recoiling with a sort of horror.] I believe--you are mad. + +ROBERTS. The house of a madman then is not the fit place for a lady. + +ENID. I 'm not afraid of you. + +ROBERTS. [Bowing.] I would not expect the daughter of Mr. Anthony +to be afraid. Mr. Anthony is not a coward like the rest of them. + +ENID. [Suddenly.] I suppose you think it brave, then, to go on with +the struggle. + +ROBERTS. Does Mr. Anthony think it brave to fight against women and +children? Mr. Anthony is a rich man, I believe; does he think it +brave to fight against those who have n't a penny? Does he think it +brave to set children crying with hunger, an' women shivering with +cold? + +ENID. [Putting up her hand, as though warding off a blow.] My +father is acting on his principles, and you know it! + +ROBERTS. And so am I! + +ENID. You hate us; and you can't bear to be beaten! + +ROBERTS. Neither can Mr. Anthony, for all that he may say. + +ENID. At any rate you might have pity on your wife. + + [MRS. ROBERTS who has her hand pressed to her heart, takes it + away, and tries to calm her breathing.] + +ROBERTS. Madam, I have no more to say. + + [He takes up the loaf. There is a knock at the door, and + UNDERWOOD comes in. He stands looking at them, ENID turns to + him, then seems undecided.] + +UNDERWOOD. Enid! + +ROBERTS. [Ironically.] Ye were not needing to come for your wife, +Mr. Underwood. We are not rowdies. + +UNDERWOOD. I know that, Roberts. I hope Mrs. Roberts is better. + + [ROBERTS turns away without answering. Come, Enid!] + +ENID. I make one more appeal to you, Mr. Roberts, for the sake of +your wife. + +ROBERTS. [With polite malice.] If I might advise ye, Ma'am--make it +for the sake of your husband and your father. + + [ENID, suppressing a retort, goes out. UNDERWOOD opens the door + for her and follows. ROBERTS, going to the fire, holds out his + hands to the dying glow.] + +ROBERTS. How goes it, my girl? Feeling better, are you? + + [MRS. ROBERTS smiles faintly. He brings his overcoat and wraps + it round her.] + +[Looking at his watch.] Ten minutes to four! [As though inspired.] +I've seen their faces, there's no fight in them, except for that one +old robber. + +MRS. ROBERTS. Won't you stop and eat, David? You've 'ad nothing all +day! + +ROBERTS. [Putting his hand to his throat.] Can't swallow till those +old sharks are out o' the town: [He walks up and down.] I shall have +a bother with the men--there's no heart in them, the cowards. Blind +as bats, they are--can't see a day before their noses. + +MRS. ROBERTS. It's the women, David. + +ROBERTS. Ah! So they say! They can remember the women when their +own bellies speak! The women never stop them from the drink; but +from a little suffering to themselves in a sacred cause, the women +stop them fast enough. + +MRS. ROBERTS. But think o' the children, David. + +ROBERTS. Ah! If they will go breeding themselves for slaves, +without a thought o' the future o' them they breed---- + +MRS. ROBERTS. [Gasping.] That's enough, David; don't begin to talk +of that--I won't--I can't---- + +ROBERTS. [Staring at her.] Now, now, my girl! + +MRS. ROBERTS. [Breathlessly.] No, no, David--I won't! + +ROBERTS. There, there! Come, come! That's right! [Bitterly.] Not +one penny will they put by for a day like this. Not they! Hand to +mouth--Gad!--I know them! They've broke my heart. There was no +holdin' them at the start, but now the pinch 'as come. + +MRS. ROBERTS. How can you expect it, David? They're not made of +iron. + +ROBERTS. Expect it? Wouldn't I expect what I would do meself? +Wouldn't I starve an' rot rather than give in? What one man can do, +another can. + +MRS. ROBERTS. And the women? + +ROBERTS. This is not women's work. + +MRS. ROBERTS. [With a flash of malice.] No, the women may die for +all you care. That's their work. + +ROBERTS. [Averting his eyes.] Who talks of dying? No one will die +till we have beaten these---- + + [He meets her eyes again, and again turns his away. Excitedly.] + +This is what I've been waiting for all these months. To get the old +robbers down, and send them home again without a farthin's worth o' +change. I 've seen their faces, I tell you, in the valley of the +shadow of defeat. + + [He goes to the peg and takes down his hat.] + +MRS. ROBERTS. [Following with her eyes-softly.] Take your overcoat, +David; it must be bitter cold. + +ROBERTS. [Coming up to her-his eyes are furtive.] No, no! There, +there, stay quiet and warm. I won't be long, my girl. + +MRS. ROBERTS. [With soft bitterness.] You'd better take it. + + [She lifts the coat. But ROBERTS puts it back, and wraps it + round her. He tries to meet her eyes, but cannot. MRS. + ROBERTS stays huddled in the coat, her eyes, that follow him + about, are half malicious, half yearning. He looks at his watch + again, and turns to go. In the doorway he meets JAN THOMAS, a + boy of ten in clothes too big for him, carrying a penny + whistle.] + +ROBERTS. Hallo, boy! + + [He goes. JAN stops within a yard of MRS. ROBERTS, and stares + at her without a word.] + +MRS. ROBERTS. Well, Jan! + +JAN. Father 's coming; sister Madge is coming. + + [He sits at the table, and fidgets with his whistle; he blows + three vague notes; then imitates a cuckoo.] + + [There is a tap on the door. Old THOMAS comes in.] + +THOMAS. A very coot tay to you, Ma'am. It is petter that you are. + +MRS. ROBERTS. Thank you, Mr. Thomas. + +THOMAS. [Nervously.] Roberts in? + +MRS. ROBERTS. Just gone on to the meeting, Mr. Thomas. + +THOMAS. [With relief, becoming talkative.] This is fery +unfortunate, look you! I came to tell him that we must make terms +with London. It is a fery great pity he is gone to the meeting. He +will be kicking against the pricks, I am thinking. + +MRS. ROBERTS. [Half rising.] He'll never give in, Mr. Thomas. + +THOMAS. You must not be fretting, that is very pat for you. Look +you, there iss hartly any mans for supporting him now, but the +engineers and George Rous. [Solemnly.] This strike is no longer +Going with Chapel, look you! I have listened carefully, an' I have +talked with her. + + [JAN blows.] + +Sst! I don't care what th' others say, I say that Chapel means us to +be stopping the trouple, that is what I make of her; and it is my +opinion that this is the fery best thing for all of us. If it was +n't my opinion, I ton't say but it is my opinion, look you. + +MRS. ROBERTS. [Trying to suppress her excitement.] I don't know +what'll come to Roberts, if you give in. + +THOMAS. It iss no disgrace whateffer! All that a mortal man coult +do he hass tone. It iss against Human Nature he hass gone; fery +natural any man may do that; but Chapel has spoken and he must not go +against her. + + [JAN imitates the cuckoo.] + +Ton't make that squeaking! [Going to the door.] Here iss my +daughter come to sit with you. A fery goot day, Ma'am--no fretting +--rememper! + + [MADGE comes in and stands at the open door, watching the + street.] + +MADGE. You'll be late, Father; they're beginning. [She catches him +by the sleeve.] For the love of God, stand up to him, Father--this +time! + +THOMAS. [Detaching his sleeve with dignity.] Leave me to do what's +proper, girl! + + [He goes out. MADGE, in the centre of. the open doorway, + slowly moves in, as though before the approach of some one.] + +ROUS. [Appearing in the doorway.] Madge! + + [MADGE stands with her back to MRS. ROBERTS, staring at him with + her head up and her hands behind her.] + +ROUS. [Who has a fierce distracted look.] Madge! I'm going to the +meeting. + + [MADGE, without moving, smiles contemptuously.] + +D' ye hear me? + + [They speak in quick low voices.] + +MADGE. I hear! Go, and kill your own mother, if you must. + +[ROUS seizes her by both her arms. She stands rigid, with her head +bent back. He releases her, and he too stands motionless.] + +ROUS. I swore to stand by Roberts. I swore that! Ye want me to go +back on what I've sworn. + +MADGE. [With slow soft mockery.] You are a pretty lover! + +ROUS. Madge! + +MADGE. [Smiling.] I've heard that lovers do what their girls ask +them-- + + [JAN sounds the cuckoo's notes] + +--but that's not true, it seems! + +ROUS. You'd make a blackleg of me! + +MADGE. [With her eyes half-closed.] Do it for me! + +ROUS. [Dashing his hand across his brow.] Damn! I can't! + +MADGE. [Swiftly.] Do it for me! + +ROUS. [Through his teeth.] Don't play the wanton with me! + +MADGE. [With a movement of her hand towards JAN--quick and low.] +I would be that for the children's sake! + +ROUS. [In a fierce whisper.] Madge! Oh, Madge! + +MADGE. [With soft mockery.] But you can't break your word for me! + +ROUS. [With a choke.] Then, Begod, I can! + + [He turns and rushes off.] + + [MADGE Stands, with a faint smile on her face, looking after + him. She turns to MRS. ROBERTS.] + +MADGE. I have done for Roberts! + +MRS. ROBERTS. [Scornfully.] Done for my man, with that----! +[She sinks back.] + +MADGE. [Running to her, and feeling her hands.] You're as cold as a +stone! You want a drop of brandy. Jan, run to the "Lion"; say, I +sent you for Mrs. Roberts. + +MRS. ROBERTS. [With a feeble movement.] I'll just sit quiet, Madge. +Give Jan--his--tea. + +MADGE. [Giving JAN a slice of bread.] There, ye little rascal. +Hold your piping. [Going to the fire, she kneels.] It's going out. + +MRS. ROBERTS. [With a faint smile.] 'T is all the same! + + [JAN begins to blow his whistle.] + +MADGE. Tsht! Tsht!--you + + [JAN Stops.] + +MRS. ROBERTS. [Smiling.] Let 'im play, Madge. + +MADGE. [On her knees at the fire, listening.] Waiting an' waiting. +I've no patience with it; waiting an' waiting--that's what a woman +has to do! Can you hear them at it--I can! + + [JAN begins again to play his whistle; MADGE gets up; half + tenderly she ruffles his hair; then, sitting, leans her elbows + on the table, and her chin on her hands. Behind her, on MRS. + ROBERTS'S face the smile has changed to horrified surprise. She + makes a sudden movement, sitting forward, pressing her hands + against her breast. Then slowly she sinks' back; slowly her + face loses the look of pain, the smile returns. She fixes her + eyes again on JAN, and moves her lips and finger to the tune.] + + + The curtain falls. + + + + +SCENE II + + It is past four. In a grey, failing light, an open muddy space + is crowded with workmen. Beyond, divided from it by a barbed- + wire fence, is the raised towing-path of a canal, on which is + moored a barge. In the distance are marshes and snow-covered + hills. The "Works" high wall runs from the canal across the + open space, and ivy the angle of this wall is a rude platform of + barrels and boards. On it, HARNESS is standing. ROBERTS, a + little apart from the crowd, leans his back against the wall. + On the raised towing-path two bargemen lounge and smoke + indifferently. + +HARNESS. [Holding out his hand.] Well, I've spoken to you straight. +If I speak till to-morrow I can't say more. + +JAGO. [A dark, sallow, Spanish-looking man with a short, thin +beard.] Mister, want to ask you! Can they get blacklegs? + +BULGIN. [Menacing.] Let 'em try. + + [There are savage murmurs from the crowd.] + +BROWN. [A round-faced man.] Where could they get 'em then? + +EVANS. [A small, restless, harassed man, with a fighting face.] +There's always blacklegs; it's the nature of 'em. There's always men +that'll save their own skins. + + [Another savage murmur. There is a movement, and old THOMAS, + joining the crowd, takes his stand in front.] + +HARNESS. [Holding up his hand.] They can't get them. But that +won't help you. Now men, be reasonable. Your demands would have +brought on us the burden of a dozen strikes at a time when we were +not prepared for them. The Unions live by justice, not to one, but +all. Any fair man will tell you--you were ill-advised! I don't say +you go too far for that which you're entitled to, but you're going +too far for the moment; you've dug a pit for yourselves. Are you to +stay there, or are you to climb out? Come! + +LEWIS. [A clean-cut Welshman with a dark moustache.] You've hit it, +Mister! Which is it to be? + + [Another movement in the crowd, and ROUS, coming quickly, takes + his stand next THOMAS.] + +HARNESS. Cut your demands to the right pattern, and we 'll see you +through; refuse, and don't expect me to waste my time coming down +here again. I 'm not the sort that speaks at random, as you ought to +know by this time. If you're the sound men I take you for--no matter +who advises you against it--[he fixes his eyes on ROBERTS] you 'll +make up your minds to come in, and trust to us to get your terms. +Which is it to be? Hands together, and victory--or--the starvation +you've got now? + + [A prolonged murmur from the crowd.] + +JAGO. [Sullenly.] Talk about what you know. + +HARNESS. [Lifting his voice above the murmur.] Know? [With cold +passion.] All that you've been through, my friend, I 've been +through--I was through it when I was no bigger than [pointing to a +youth] that shaver there; the Unions then were n't what they are +now. What's made them strong? It's hands together that 's made them +strong. I 've been through it all, I tell you, the brand's on my +soul yet. I know what you 've suffered--there's nothing you can tell +me that I don't know; but the whole is greater than the part, and you +are only the part. Stand by us, and we will stand by you. + + [Quartering them with his eyes, he waits. The murmuring swells; + the men form little groups. GREEN, BULGIN, and LEWIS talk + together.] + +LEWIS. Speaks very sensible, the Union chap. + +GREEN. [Quietly.] Ah! if I 'd a been listened to, you'd 'ave 'eard +sense these two months past. + + [The bargemen are seen laughing. ] + +LEWIS. [Pointing.] Look at those two blanks over the fence there! + +BULGIN. [With gloomy violence.] They'd best stop their cackle, or I +'ll break their jaws. + +JAGO. [Suddenly.] You say the furnace men's paid enough? + +HARNESS. I did not say they were paid enough; I said they were paid +as much as the furnace men in similar works elsewhere. + +EVANS. That's a lie! [Hubbub.] What about Harper's? + +HARNESS. [With cold irony.] You may look at home for lies, my man. +Harper's shifts are longer, the pay works out the same. + +HENRY ROUS. [A dark edition of his brother George.] Will ye support +us in double pay overtime Saturdays? + +HARNESS. Yes, we will. + +JAGO. What have ye done with our subscriptions? + +HARNESS. [Coldly.] I have told you what we will do with them. + +EVANS. Ah! will, it's always will! Ye'd have our mates desert us. +[Hubbub.] + +BULGIN. [Shouting.] Hold your row! + + [EVANS looks round angrily.] + +HARNESS. [Lifting his voice.] Those who know their right hands from +their lefts know that the Unions are neither thieves nor traitors. +I 've said my say. Figure it out, my lads; when you want me you know +where I shall be. + + [He jumps down, the crowd gives way, he passes through them, and + goes away. A BARGEMAN looks after him jerking his pipe with a + derisive gesture. The men close up in groups, and many looks + are cast at ROBERTS, who stands alone against the wall.] + +EVANS. He wants ye to turn blacklegs, that's what he wants. He +wants ye to go back on us. Sooner than turn blackleg--I 'd starve, I +would. + +BULGIN. Who's talkin' o' blacklegs--mind what you're saying, will +you? + +BLACKSMITH. [A youth with yellow hair and huge arms.] What about +the women? + +EVANS. They can stand what we can stand, I suppose, can't they? + +BLACKSMITH. Ye've no wife? + +EVANS. An' don't want one! + +THOMAS. [Raising his voice.] Aye! Give us the power to come to +terms with London, lads. + +DAVIES. [A dark, slow-fly, gloomy man.] Go up the platform, if you +got anything to say, go up an' say it. + + [There are cries of "Thomas!" He is pushed towards the + platform; he ascends it with difficulty, and bares his head, + waiting for silence. A hush.] + +RED-HAIRED YOUTH. [suddenly.] Coot old Thomas! + + [A hoarse laugh; the bargemen exchange remarks; a hush again, + and THOMAS begins speaking.] + +THOMAS. We are all in the tepth together, and it iss Nature that has +put us there. + +HENRY ROUS. It's London put us there! + +EVANS. It's the Union. + +THOMAS. It iss not Lonton; nor it iss not the Union--it iss Nature. +It iss no disgrace whateffer to a potty to give in to Nature. For +this Nature iss a fery pig thing; it is pigger than what a man is. +There iss more years to my hett than to the hett of any one here. +It is fery pat, look you, this Going against Nature. It is pat to +make other potties suffer, when there is nothing to pe cot py it. + + [A laugh. THOMAS angrily goes on.] + +What are ye laughing at? It is pat, I say! We are fighting for a +principle; there is no potty that shall say I am not a peliever in +principle. Putt when Nature says "No further," then it is no coot +snapping your fingers in her face. + + [A laugh from ROBERTS, and murmurs of approval.] + +This Nature must pe humort. It is a man's pisiness to pe pure, +honest, just, and merciful. That's what Chapel tells you. [To +ROBERTS, angrily.] And, look you, David Roberts, Chapel tells you ye +can do that without Going against Nature. + +JAGO. What about the Union? + +THOMAS. I ton't trust the Union; they haf treated us like tirt. +"Do what we tell you," said they. I haf peen captain of the furnace- +men twenty years, and I say to the Union--[excitedly]--"Can you tell +me then, as well as I can tell you, what iss the right wages for the +work that these men do?" For fife and twenty years I haf paid my +moneys to the Union and--[with great excitement]--for nothings! What +iss that but roguery, for all that this Mr. Harness says! + +EVANS. Hear, hear. + +HENRY ROUS. Get on with you! Cut on with it then! + +THOMAS. Look you, if a man toes not trust me, am I going to trust +him? + +JAGO. That's right. + +THOMAS. Let them alone for rogues, and act for ourselves. + + [Murmurs.] + +BLACKSMITH. That's what we been doin', haven't we? + +THOMAS. [With increased excitement.] I wass brought up to do for +meself. I wass brought up to go without a thing, if I hat not moneys +to puy it. There iss too much, look you, of doing things with other +people's moneys. We haf fought fair, and if we haf peen beaten, it +iss no fault of ours. Gif us the power to make terms with London for +ourself; if we ton't succeed, I say it iss petter to take our peating +like men, than to tie like togs, or hang on to others' coat-tails to +make them do our pisiness for us! + +EVANS. [Muttering.] Who wants to? + +THOMAS. [Craning.] What's that? If I stand up to a potty, and he +knocks me town, I am not to go hollering to other potties to help me; +I am to stand up again; and if he knocks me town properly, I am to +stay there, is n't that right? + + [Laughter.] + +JAGO. No Union! + +HENRY ROUS. Union! + + [Murmurs.] + + [Others take up the shout.] + +EVANS. Blacklegs! + + + [BULGIN and the BLACKSMITH shake their fists at EVANS.] + +THOMAS. [With a gesture.] I am an olt man, look you. + + [A sudden silence, then murmurs again.] + +LEWIS. Olt fool, with his "No Union!" + +BULGIN. Them furnace chaps! For twopence I 'd smash the faces o' +the lot of them. + +GREEN. If I'd a been listened to at the first! + +THOMAS. [Wiping his brow.] I'm comin' now to what I was going to +say---- + +DAVIES. [Muttering.] An' time too! + +THOMAS. [Solemnly.] Chapel says: Ton't carry on this strife! Put +an end to it! + +JAGO. That's a lie! Chapel says go on! + +THOMAS. [Scornfully.] Inteet! I haf ears to my head. + +RED-HAIRED YOUTH. Ah! long ones! + + [A laugh.] + +JAGO. Your ears have misbeled you then. + +THOMAS. [Excitedly.] Ye cannot be right if I am, ye cannot haf it +both ways. + +RED-HAIRED YOUTH. Chapel can though! + + ["The Shaver" laughs; there are murmurs from the crowd.] + +THOMAS. [Fixing his eyes on "The Shaver."] Ah! ye 're Going the +roat to tamnation. An' so I say to all of you. If ye co against +Chapel I will not pe with you, nor will any other Got-fearing man. + + [He steps down from the platform. JAGO makes his way towards + it. There are cries of "Don't let 'im go up!"] + +JAGO. Don't let him go up? That's free speech, that is. [He goes +up.] I ain't got much to say to you. Look at the matter plain; ye +'ve come the road this far, and now you want to chuck the journey. +We've all been in one boat; and now you want to pull in two. We +engineers have stood by you; ye 're ready now, are ye, to give us the +go-by? If we'd aknown that before, we'd not a-started out with you +so early one bright morning! That's all I 've got to say. Old man +Thomas a'n't got his Bible lesson right. If you give up to London, +or to Harness, now, it's givin' us the chuck--to save your skins--you +won't get over that, my boys; it's a dirty thing to do. + + [He gets down; during his little speech, which is ironically + spoken, there is a restless discomfort in the crowd. ROUS, + stepping forward, jumps on the platform. He has an air of + fierce distraction. Sullen murmurs of disapproval from the + crowd.] + +ROUS. [Speaking with great excitement.] I'm no blanky orator, +mates, but wot I say is drove from me. What I say is yuman nature. +Can a man set an' see 'is mother starve? Can 'e now? + +ROBERTS. [Starting forward.] Rous! + +ROUS. [Staring at him fiercely.] Sim 'Arness said fair! I've +changed my mind! + +ROBERTS. Ah! Turned your coat you mean! + + [The crowd manifests a great surprise.] + +LEWIS. [Apostrophising Rous.] Hallo! What's turned him round? + +ROUS. [Speaking with intense excitement.] 'E said fair. "Stand by +us," 'e said, "and we'll stand by you." That's where we've been +makin' our mistake this long time past; and who's to blame fort? [He +points at ROBERTS] That man there! "No," 'e said, "fight the +robbers," 'e said, "squeeze the breath out o' them!" But it's not the +breath out o' them that's being squeezed; it's the breath out of us +and ours, and that's the book of truth. I'm no orator, mates, it's +the flesh and blood in me that's speakin', it's the heart o' me. +[With a menacing, yet half-ashamed movement towards ROBERTS.] He'll +speak to you again, mark my words, but don't ye listen. [The crowd +groans.] It's hell fire that's on that man's tongue. [ROBERTS is +seen laughing.] Sim 'Arness is right. What are we without the +Union--handful o' parched leaves--a puff o' smoke. I'm no orator, +but I say: Chuck it up! Chuck it up! Sooner than go on starving the +women and the children. + + [The murmurs of acquiescence almost drown the murmurs of + dissent.] + +EVANS. What's turned you to blacklegging? + +ROUS. [With a furious look.] Sim 'Arness knows what he's talking +about. Give us power to come to terms with London; I'm no orator, +but I say--have done wi' this black misery! + + [He gives his muter a twist, jerks his head back, and jumps off + the platform. The crowd applauds and surges forward. Amid + cries of "That's enough!" "Up Union!" "Up Harness!" ROBERTS + quietly ascends the platform. There is a moment of silence.] + +BLACKSMITH. We don't want to hear you. Shut it! + +HENRY Rous. Get down! + + [Amid such cries they surge towards the platform.] + +EVANS. [Fiercely.] Let 'im speak! Roberts! Roberts! + +BULGIN. [Muttering.] He'd better look out that I don't crack his +skull. + + [ROBERTS faces the crowd, probing them with his eyes till they + gradually become silent. He begins speaking. One of the + bargemen rises and stands.] + +ROBERTS. You don't want to hear me, then? You'll listen to Rous and +to that old man, but not to me. You'll listen to Sim Harness of the +Union that's treated you so fair; maybe you'll listen to those men +from London? Ah! You groan! What for? You love their feet on your +necks, don't you? [Then as BULGIN elbows his way towards the +platform, with calm bathos.] You'd like to break my jaw, John +Bulgin. Let me speak, then do your smashing, if it gives you +pleasure. [BULGIN Stands motionless and sullen.] Am I a liar, a +coward, a traitor? If only I were, ye'd listen to me, I'm sure. +[The murmurings cease, and there is now dead silence.] Is there a +man of you here that has less to gain by striking? Is there a man of +you that had more to lose? Is there a man of you that has given up +eight hundred pounds since this trouble here began? Come now, is +there? How much has Thomas given up--ten pounds or five, or what? +You listened to him, and what had he to say? "None can pretend," he +said, "that I'm not a believer in principle--[with biting irony]--but +when Nature says: 'No further, 't es going agenst Nature.'" I tell +you if a man cannot say to Nature: "Budge me from this if ye can!"-- +[with a sort of exaltation]his principles are but his belly. "Oh, +but," Thomas says, "a man can be pure and honest, just and merciful, +and take off his hat to Nature! "I tell you Nature's neither pure +nor honest, just nor merciful. You chaps that live over the hill, +an' go home dead beat in the dark on a snowy night--don't ye fight +your way every inch of it? Do ye go lyin' down an' trustin' to the +tender mercies of this merciful Nature? Try it and you'll soon know +with what ye've got to deal. 'T es only by that--[he strikes a blow +with his clenched fist]--in Nature's face that a man can be a man. +"Give in," says Thomas, "go down on your knees; throw up your foolish +fight, an' perhaps," he said, "perhaps your enemy will chuck you down +a crust." + +JAGO. Never! + +EVANS. Curse them! + +THOMAS. I nefer said that. + +ROBERTS. [Bitingly.] If ye did not say it, man, ye meant it. +An' what did ye say about Chapel? "Chapel's against it," ye said. +"She 's against it!" Well, if Chapel and Nature go hand in hand, +it's the first I've ever heard of it. That young man there-- +[pointing to ROUS]--said I 'ad 'ell fire on my tongue. If I had I +would use it all to scorch and wither this talking of surrender. +Surrendering 's the work of cowards and traitors. + +HENRY ROUS. [As GEORGE ROUS moves forward.] Go for him, George-- +don't stand his lip! + +ROBERTS. [Flinging out his finger.] Stop there, George Rous, it's +no time this to settle personal matters. [ROUS stops.] But there +was one other spoke to you--Mr. Simon Harness. We have not much to +thank Mr. Harness and the Union for. They said to us "Desert your +mates, or we'll desert you." An' they did desert us. + +EVANS. They did. + +ROBERTS. Mr. Simon Harness is a clever man, but he has come too +late. [With intense conviction.] For all that Mr. Simon Harness +says, for all that Thomas, Rous, for all that any man present here +can say--We've won the fight! + + [The crowd sags nearer, looking eagerly up.] + +[With withering scorn.] You've felt the pinch o't in your bellies. +You've forgotten what that fight 'as been; many times I have told +you; I will tell you now this once again. The fight o' the country's +body and blood against a blood-sucker. The fight of those that spend +themselves with every blow they strike and every breath they draw, +against a thing that fattens on them, and grows and grows by the law +of merciful Nature. That thing is Capital! A thing that buys the +sweat o' men's brows, and the tortures o' their brains, at its own +price. Don't I know that? Wasn't the work o' my brains bought for +seven hundred pounds, and has n't one hundred thousand pounds been +gained them by that seven hundred without the stirring of a finger. +It is a thing that will take as much and give you as little as it +can. That's Capital! A thing that will say--"I'm very sorry for +you, poor fellows--you have a cruel time of it, I know," but will not +give one sixpence of its dividends to help you have a better time. +That's Capital! Tell me, for all their talk, is there one of them +that will consent to another penny on the Income Tax to help the +poor? That's Capital! A white-faced, stony-hearted monster! Ye +have got it on its knees; are ye to give up at the last minute to +save your miserable bodies pain? When I went this morning to those +old men from London, I looked into their very 'earts. One of them +was sitting there--Mr. Scantlebury, a mass of flesh nourished on us: +sittin' there for all the world like the shareholders in this +Company, that sit not moving tongue nor finger, takin' dividends a +great dumb ox that can only be roused when its food is threatened. +I looked into his eyes and I saw he was afraid--afraid for himself +and his dividends; afraid for his fees, afraid of the very +shareholders he stands for; and all but one of them's afraid--like +children that get into a wood at night, and start at every rustle of +the leaves. I ask you, men--[he pauses, holding out his hand till +there is utter silence]--give me a free hand to tell them: "Go you +back to London. The men have nothing for you!" [A murmuring.] Give +me that, an' I swear to you, within a week you shall have from London +all you want. + +EVANS, JAGO, and OTHERS. A free hand! Give him a free hand! Bravo- +bravo! + +ROBERTS. 'T is not for this little moment of time we're fighting +[the murmuring dies], not for ourselves, our own little bodies, and +their wants, 't is for all those that come after throughout all time. +[With intense sadness.] Oh! men--for the love o' them, don't roll +up another stone upon their heads, don't help to blacken the sky, an' +let the bitter sea in over them. They're welcome to the worst that +can happen to me, to the worst that can happen to us all, are n't +they--are n't they? If we can shake [passionately] that white-faced +monster with the bloody lips, that has sucked the life out of +ourselves, our wives, and children, since the world began. [Dropping +the note of passion but with the utmost weight and intensity.] If we +have not the hearts of men to stand against it breast to breast, and +eye to eye, and force it backward till it cry for mercy, it will go +on sucking life; and we shall stay forever what we are [in almost a +whisper], less than the very dogs. + + [An utter stillness, and ROBERTS stands rocking his body + slightly, with his eyes burning the faces of the crowd.] + +EVANS and JAGO. [Suddenly.] Roberts! [The shout is taken up.] + + [There is a slight movement in the crowd, and MADGE passing + below the towing-path, stops by the platform, looking up at + ROBERTS. A sudden doubting silence.] + +ROBERTS. "Nature," says that old man, "give in to Nature." I tell +you, strike your blow in Nature's face--an' let it do its worst! + + [He catches sight of MADGE, his brows contract, he looks away.] + +MADGE. [In a low voice-close to the platform.] Your wife's dying! + + [ROBERTS glares at her as if torn from some pinnacle of + exaltation.] + +ROBERTS. [Trying to stammer on.] I say to you--answer them--answer +them---- + + [He is drowned by the murmur in the crowd.] + +THOMAS. [Stepping forward.] Ton't you hear her, then? + +ROBERTS. What is it? [A dead silence.] + +THOMAS. Your wife, man! + + [ROBERTS hesitates, then with a gesture, he leaps down, and goes + away below the towing-path, the men making way for him. The + standing bargeman opens and prepares to light a lantern. + Daylight is fast failing.] + +MADGE. He need n't have hurried! Annie Roberts is dead. [Then in +the silence, passionately.] You pack of blinded hounds! How many +more women are you going to let to die? + + [The crowd shrinks back from her, and breaks up in groups, with + a confused, uneasy movement. MADGE goes quickly away below the + towing-path. There is a hush as they look after her.] + +LEWIS. There's a spitfire, for ye! + +BULGIN. [Growling.] I'll smash 'er jaw. + +GREEN. If I'd a-been listened to, that poor woman---- + +THOMAS. It's a judgment on him for going against Chapel. I tolt him +how 't would be! + +EVANS. All the more reason for sticking by 'im. [A cheer.] Are you +goin' to desert him now 'e 's down? Are you going to chuck him over, +now 'e 's lost 'is wife? + + [The crowd is murmuring and cheering all at once.] + +ROUS. [Stepping in front of platform.] Lost his wife! Aye! Can't +ye see? Look at home, look at your own wives! What's to save them? +Ye'll have the same in all your houses before long! + +LEWIS. Aye, aye! + +HENRY ROUS. Right! George, right! + + [There are murmurs of assent.] + +ROUS. It's not us that's blind, it's Roberts. How long will ye put +up with 'im! + +HENRY, ROUS, BULGIN, DAVIES. Give 'im the chuck! + + [The cry is taken up.] + +EVANS. [Fiercely.] Kick a man that's down? Down? + +HENRY ROUS. Stop his jaw there! + + [EVANS throws up his arm at a threat from BULGIN. The bargeman, + who has lighted the lantern, holds it high above his head.] + +ROUS. [Springing on to the platform.] What brought him down then, +but 'is own black obstinacy? Are ye goin' to follow a man that can't +see better than that where he's goin'? + +EVANS. He's lost 'is wife. + +ROUS. An' who's fault's that but his own. 'Ave done with 'im, I +say, before he's killed your own wives and mothers. + +DAVIES. Down 'im! + +HENRY ROUS. He's finished! + +BROWN. We've had enough of 'im! + +BLACKSMITH. Too much! + + [The crowd takes up these cries, excepting only EVANS, JAGO, and + GREEN, who is seen to argue mildly with the BLACKSMITH.] + +ROUS. [Above the hubbub.] We'll make terms with the Union, lads. + + + [Cheers.] + +EVANS. [Fiercely.] Ye blacklegs! + +BULGIN. [Savagely-squaring up to him.] Who are ye callin' +blacklegs, Rat? + + [EVANS throws up his fists, parries the blow, and returns it. + They fight. The bargemen are seen holding up the lantern and + enjoying the sight. Old THOMAS steps forward and holds out his + hands.] + +THOMAS. Shame on your strife! + + [The BLACKSMITH, BROWN, LEWIS, and the RED-HAIRED YOUTH pull + EVANS and BULGIN apart. The stage is almost dark.] + + + The curtain falls. + + + + +ACT III + + It is five o'clock. In the UNDERWOODS' drawing-room, which is + artistically furnished, ENID is sitting on the sofa working at a + baby's frock. EDGAR, by a little spindle-legged table in the + centre of the room, is fingering a china-box. His eyes are + fixed on the double-doors that lead into the dining-room. + +EDGAR. [Putting down the china-box, and glancing at his watch.] +Just on five, they're all in there waiting, except Frank. Where's +he? + +ENID. He's had to go down to Gasgoyne's about a contract. Will you +want him? + +EDGAR. He can't help us. This is a director's job. [Motioning +towards a single door half hidden by a curtain.] Father in his room? + +ENID. Yes. + +EDGAR. I wish he'd stay there, Enid. + + [ENID looks up at him. This is a beastly business, old girl?] + + [He takes up the little box again and turns it over and over.] + +ENID. I went to the Roberts's this afternoon, Ted. + +EDGAR. That was n't very wise. + +ENID. He's simply killing his wife. + +EDGAR. We are you mean. + +ENID. [Suddenly.] Roberts ought to give way! + +EDGAR. There's a lot to be said on the men's side. + +ENID. I don't feel half so sympathetic with them as I did before I +went. They just set up class feeling against you. Poor Annie was +looking dread fully bad--fire going out, and nothing fit for her to +eat. + + [EDGAR walks to and fro.] + +But she would stand up for Roberts. When you see all this +wretchedness going on and feel you can do nothing, you have to shut +your eyes to the whole thing. + +EDGAR. If you can. + +ENID. When I went I was all on their side, but as soon as I got +there I began to feel quite different at once. People talk about +sympathy with the working classes, they don't know what it means to +try and put it into practice. It seems hopeless. + +EDGAR. Ah! well. + +ENID. It's dreadful going on with the men in this state. I do hope +the Dad will make concessions. + +EDGAR. He won't. [Gloomily.] It's a sort of religion with him. +Curse it! I know what's coming! He'll be voted down. + +ENID. They would n't dare! + +EDGAR. They will--they're in a funk. + +ENID. [Indignantly.] He'd never stand it! + +EDGAR. [With a shrug.] My dear girl, if you're beaten in a vote, +you've got to stand it. + +ENID. Oh! [She gets up in alarm.] But would he resign? + +EDGAR. Of course! It goes to the roots of his beliefs. + +ENID. But he's so wrapped up in this company, Ted! There'd be +nothing left for him! It'd be dreadful! + + [EDGAR shrugs his shoulders.] + +Oh, Ted, he's so old now! You must n't let them! + +EDGAR. [Hiding his feelings in an outburst.] My sympathies in this +strike are all on the side of the men. + +ENID. He's been Chairman for more than thirty years! He made the +whole thing! And think of the bad times they've had; it's always +been he who pulled them through. Oh, Ted, you must! + +EDGAR. What is it you want? You said just now you hoped he'd make +concessions. Now you want me to back him in not making them. This +is n't a game, Enid! + +ENID. [Hotly.] It is n't a game to me that the Dad's in danger of +losing all he cares about in life. If he won't give way, and he's +beaten, it'll simply break him down! + +EDGAR. Did n't you say it was dreadful going on with the men in this +state? + +ENID. But can't you see, Ted, Father'll never get over it! You must +stop them somehow. The others are afraid of him. If you back him +up---- + +EDGAR. [Putting his hand to his head.] Against my convictions-- +against yours! The moment it begins to pinch one personally---- + +ENID. It is n't personal, it's the Dad! + +EDGAR. Your family or yourself, and over goes the show! + +ENID. [Resentfully.] If you don't take it seriously, I do. + +EDGAR. I am as fond of him as you are; that's nothing to do with it. + +ENID. We can't tell about the men; it's all guess-work. But we know +the Dad might have a stroke any day. D' you mean to say that he +isn't more to you than---- + +EDGAR. Of course he is. + +ENID. I don't understand you then. + +EDGAR. H'm! + +ENID. If it were for oneself it would be different, but for our own +Father! You don't seem to realise. + +EDGAR. I realise perfectly. + +ENID. It's your first duty to save him. + +EDGAR. I wonder. + +ENID. [Imploring.] Oh, Ted? It's the only interest he's got left; +it'll be like a death-blow to him! + +EDGAR. [Restraining his emotion.] I know. + +ENID. Promise! + +EDGAR. I'll do what I can. + + [He turns to the double-doors.] + + [The curtained door is opened, and ANTHONY appears. EDGAR opens + the double-doors, and passes through.] + + [SCANTLEBURY'S voice is faintly heard: "Past five; we shall + never get through--have to eat another dinner at that hotel!" + The doors are shut. ANTHONY walks forward.] + +ANTHONY. You've been seeing Roberts, I hear. + +ENID. Yes. + +ANTHONY. Do you know what trying to bridge such a gulf as this is +like? + + [ENID puts her work on the little table, and faces him.] + +Filling a sieve with sand! + +ENID. Don't! + +ANTHONY. You think with your gloved hands you can cure the trouble +of the century. + + [He passes on. ] + +ENID. Father! + + [ANTHONY Stops at the double doors.] + +I'm only thinking of you! + +ANTHONY. [More softly.] I can take care of myself, my dear. + +ENID. Have you thought what'll happen if you're beaten-- +[she points]--in there? + +ANTHONY. I don't mean to be. + +ENID. Oh! Father, don't give them a chance. You're not well; need +you go to the meeting at all? + +ANTHONY. [With a grim smile.] Cut and run? + +ENID. But they'll out-vote you! + +ANTHONY. [Putting his hand on the doors.] We shall see! + +ENID. I beg you, Dad! Won't you? + + [ANTHONY looks at her softly.] + + [ANTHONY shakes his head. He opens the doors. A buzz of voices + comes in.] + +SCANTLEBURY. Can one get dinner on that 6.30 train up? + +TENCH. No, Sir, I believe not, sir. + +WILDER. Well, I shall speak out; I've had enough of this. + +EDGAR. [Sharply.] What? + + [It ceases instantly. ANTHONY passes through, closing the doors + behind him. ENID springs to them with a gesture of dismay. She + puts her hand on the knob, and begins turning it; then goes to + the fireplace, and taps her foot on the fender. Suddenly she + rings the bell. FROST comes in by the door that leads into the + hall.] + +FROST. Yes, M'm? + +ENID. When the men come, Frost, please show them in here; the +hall 's cold. + +FROST. I could put them in the pantry, M'm. + +ENID. No. I don't want to--to offend them; they're so touchy. + +FROST. Yes, M'm. [Pause.] Excuse me, Mr. Anthony's 'ad nothing to +eat all day. + +ENID. I know Frost. + +FROST. Nothin' but two whiskies and sodas, M'm. + +ENID. Oh! you oughtn't to have let him have those. + +FROST. [Gravely.] Mr. Anthony is a little difficult, M'm. It's not +as if he were a younger man, an' knew what was good for 'im; he will +have his own way. + +ENID. I suppose we all want that. + +FROST. Yes, M'm. [Quietly.] Excuse me speakin' about the strike. +I'm sure if the other gentlemen were to give up to Mr. Anthony, and +quietly let the men 'ave what they want, afterwards, that'd be the +best way. I find that very useful with him at times, M'm. + + [ENID shakes hey head.] + +If he's crossed, it makes him violent. [with an air of discovery], +and I've noticed in my own case, when I'm violent I'm always sorry +for it afterwards. + +ENID. [With a smile.] Are you ever violent, Frost? + +FROST. Yes, M'm; oh! sometimes very violent. + +ENID. I've never seen you. + +FROST. [Impersonally.] No, M'm; that is so. + + [ENID fidgets towards the back of the door.] + +[With feeling.] Bein' with Mr. Anthony, as you know, M'm, ever since +I was fifteen, it worries me to see him crossed like this at his age. +I've taken the liberty to speak to Mr. Wanklin [dropping his voice]-- +seems to be the most sensible of the gentlemen--but 'e said to me: +"That's all very well, Frost, but this strike's a very serious +thing," 'e said. "Serious for all parties, no doubt," I said, "but +yumour 'im, sir," I said, "yumour 'im. It's like this, if a man +comes to a stone wall, 'e does n't drive 'is 'ead against it, 'e gets +over it." "Yes," 'e said, "you'd better tell your master that." +[FROST looks at his nails.] That's where it is, M'm. I said to Mr. +Anthony this morning: "Is it worth it, sir?" "Damn it," he said to +me, "Frost! Mind your own business, or take a month's notice!" Beg +pardon, M'm, for using such a word. + +ENID. [Moving to the double-doors, and listening.] Do you know that +man Roberts, Frost? + +FROST. Yes, M'm; that's to say, not to speak to. But to look at 'im +you can tell what he's like. + +ENID. [Stopping.] Yes? + +FROST. He's not one of these 'ere ordinary 'armless Socialists. +'E's violent; got a fire inside 'im. What I call "personal." A man +may 'ave what opinions 'e likes, so long as 'e 's not personal; when +'e 's that 'e 's not safe. + +ENID. I think that's what my father feels about Roberts. + +FROST. No doubt, M'm, Mr. Anthony has a feeling against him. + + [ENID glances at him sharply, but finding him in perfect + earnest, stands biting her lips, and looking at the double- + doors.] + +It 's, a regular right down struggle between the two. I've no +patience with this Roberts, from what I 'ear he's just an ordinary +workin' man like the rest of 'em. If he did invent a thing he's no +worse off than 'undreds of others. My brother invented a new kind o' +dumb-waiter--nobody gave him anything for it, an' there it is, bein' +used all over the place. + + [ENID moves closer to the double-doors.] + +There's a kind o' man that never forgives the world, because 'e +wasn't born a gentleman. What I say is--no man that's a gentleman +looks down on another because 'e 'appens to be a class or two above +'im, no more than if 'e 'appens to be a class or two below. + +ENID. [With slight impatience.] Yes, I know, Frost, of course. +Will you please go in and ask if they'll have some tea; say I sent +you. + +FROST. Yes, M'm. + + [He opens the doors gently and goes in. There is a momentary + sound of earnest, gather angry talk.] + +WILDER. I don't agree with you. + +WANKLIN. We've had this over a dozen times. + +EDGAR. [Impatiently.] Well, what's the proposition? + +SCANTLEBURY. Yes, what does your father say? Tea? Not for me, not +for me! + +WANKLIN. What I understand the Chairman to say is this---- + + [FROST re-enters closing the door behind him.] + +ENID. [Moving from the door.] Won't they have any tea, Frost? + + [She goes to the little table, and remains motionless, looking + at the baby's frock.] + + [A parlourmaid enters from the hall.] + +PARLOURMAID. A Miss Thomas, M'm + +ENID. [Raising her head.] Thomas? What Miss Thomas--d' you +mean a----? + +PARLOURMAID. Yes, M'm. + +ENID. [Blankly.] Oh! Where is she? + +PARLOURMAID. In the porch. + +ENID. I don't want----[She hesitates.] + +FROST. Shall I dispose of her, M'm? + +ENID. I 'll come out. No, show her in here, Ellen. + + [The PARLOUR MAID and FROST go out. ENID pursing her lips, sits + at the little table, taking up the baby's frock. The + PARLOURMAID ushers in MADGE THOMAS and goes out; MADGE stands by + the door.] + +ENID. Come in. What is it. What have you come for, please? + +MADGE. Brought a message from Mrs. Roberts. + +ENID. A message? Yes. + +MADGE. She asks you to look after her mother. + +ENID. I don't understand. + +MADGE. [Sullenly.] That's the message. + +ENID. But--what--why? + +MADGE. Annie Roberts is dead. + + [There is a silence.] + +ENID. [Horrified.] But it's only a little more than an hour since I +saw her. + +MADGE. Of cold and hunger. + +ENID. [Rising.] Oh! that's not true! the poor thing's heart---- +What makes you look at me like that? I tried to help her. + +MADGE. [With suppressed savagery.] I thought you'd like to know. + +ENID. [Passionately.] It's so unjust! Can't you see that I want to +help you all? + +MADGE. I never harmed any one that had n't harmed me first. + +ENID. [Coldly.] What harm have I done you? Why do you speak to me +like that? + +MADGE. [With the bitterest intensity.] You come out of your comfort +to spy on us! A week of hunger, that's what you want! + +ENID. [Standing her ground.] Don't talk nonsense! + +MADGE. I saw her die; her hands were blue with the cold. + +ENID. [With a movement of grief.] Oh! why wouldn't she let me help +her? It's such senseless pride! + +MADGE. Pride's better than nothing to keep your body warm. + +ENID. [Passionately.] I won't talk to you! How can you tell what I +feel? It's not my fault that I was born better off than you. + +MADGE. We don't want your money. + +ENID. You don't understand, and you don't want to; please to go +away! + +MADGE. [Balefully.] You've killed her, for all your soft words, you +and your father + +ENID. [With rage and emotion.] That's wicked! My father is +suffering himself through this wretched strike. + +MADGE. [With sombre triumph.] Then tell him Mrs. Roberts is dead! +That 'll make him better. + +ENID. Go away! + +MADGE. When a person hurts us we get it back on them. + + [She makes a sudden and swift movement towards ENID, fixing her + eyes on the child's frock lying across the little table. ENID + snatches the frock up, as though it were the child itself. They + stand a yard apart, crossing glances.] + +MADGE. [Pointing to the frock with a little smile.] Ah! You felt +that! Lucky it's her mother--not her children--you've to look after, +is n't it. She won't trouble you long! + +ENID. Go away! + +MADGE. I've given you the message. + + [She turns and goes out into the hall. ENID, motionless till + she has gone, sinks down at the table, bending her head over the + frock, which she is still clutching to her. The double-doors + are opened, and ANTHONY comes slowly in; he passes his daughter, + and lowers himself into an arm-chair. He is very flushed.] + +ENID. [Hiding her emotion-anxiously.] What is it, Dad? + + [ANTHONY makes a gesture, but does not speak.] + +Who was it? + + [ANTHONY does not answer. ENID going to the double-doors meets + EDGAR Coming in. They speak together in low tones.] + +What is it, Ted? + +EDGAR. That fellow Wilder! Taken to personalities! He was +downright insulting. + +ENID. What did he say? + +EDGAR. Said, Father was too old and feeble to know what he was +doing! The Dad's worth six of him! + +ENID. Of course he is. + + [They look at ANTHONY.] + + [The doors open wider, WANKLIN appears With SCANTLEBURY.] + +SCANTLEBURY. [Sotto voce.] I don't like the look of this! + +WANKLIN. [Going forward.] Come, Chairman! Wilder sends you his +apologies. A man can't do more. + + [WILDER, followed by TENCH, comes in, and goes to ANTHONY.] + +WILDER. [Glumly.] I withdraw my words, sir. I'm sorry. + + [ANTHONY nods to him.] + +ENID. You have n't come to a decision, Mr. Wanklin? + + [WANKLIN shakes his head.] + +WANKLIN. We're all here, Chairman; what do you say? Shall we get on +with the business, or shall we go back to the other room? + +SCANTLEBURY. Yes, yes; let's get on. We must settle something. + + [He turns from a small chair, and settles himself suddenly in + the largest chair with a sigh of comfort.] + + [WILDER and WANKLIN also sit; and TENCH, drawing up a straight- + backed chair close to his Chairman, sits on the edge of it with + the minute-book and a stylographic pen.] + +ENID. [Whispering.] I want to speak to you a minute, Ted. + + [They go out through the double-doors.] + +WANKLIN. Really, Chairman, it's no use soothing ourselves with a +sense of false security. If this strike's not brought to an end +before the General Meeting, the shareholders will certainly haul us +over the coals. + +SCANTLEBURY. [Stirring.] What--what's that? + +WANKLIN. I know it for a fact. + +ANTHONY. Let them! + +WILDER. And get turned out? + +WANKLIN. [To ANTHONY.] I don't mind martyrdom for a policy in which +I believe, but I object to being burnt for some one else's +principles. + +SCANTLEBURY. Very reasonable--you must see that, Chairman. + +ANTHONY. We owe it to other employers to stand firm. + +WANKLIN. There's a limit to that. + +ANTHONY. You were all full of fight at the start. + +SCANTLEBURY. [With a sort of groan.] We thought the men would give +in, but they-have n't! + +ANTHONY. They will! + +WILDER. [Rising and pacing up and down.] I can't have my reputation +as a man of business destroyed for the satisfaction of starving the +men out. [Almost in tears.] I can't have it! How can we meet the +shareholders with things in the state they are? + +SCANTLEBURY. Hear, hear--hear, hear! + +WILDER. [Lashing himself.] If any one expects me to say to them +I've lost you fifty thousand pounds and sooner than put my pride in +my pocket I'll lose you another. [Glancing at ANTHONY.] It's--it's +unnatural! I don't want to go against you, sir. + +WANKLIN. [Persuasively.] Come Chairman, we 're not free agents. +We're part of a machine. Our only business is to see the Company +earns as much profit as it safely can. If you blame me for want of +principle: I say that we're Trustees. Reason tells us we shall never +get back in the saving of wages what we shall lose if we continue +this struggle--really, Chairman, we must bring it to an end, on the +best terms we can make. + +ANTHONY. No. + + [There is a pause of general dismay.] + +WILDER. It's a deadlock then. [Letting his hands drop with a sort +of despair.] Now I shall never get off to Spain! + +WANKLIN. [Retaining a trace of irony.] You hear the consequences of +your victory, Chairman? + +WILDER. [With a burst of feeling.] My wife's ill! + +SCANTLEBURY. Dear, dear! You don't say so. + +WILDER. If I don't get her out of this cold, I won't answer for the +consequences. + + [Through the double-doors EDGAR comes in looking very grave.] + +EDGAR. [To his Father.] Have you heard this, sir? Mrs. Roberts is +dead! + + [Every one stages at him, as if trying to gauge the importance + of this news.] + +Enid saw her this afternoon, she had no coals, or food, or anything. +It's enough! + + [There is a silence, every one avoiding the other's eyes, except + ANTHONY, who stares hard at his son.] + +SCANTLEBURY. You don't suggest that we could have helped the poor +thing? + +WILDER. [Flustered.] The woman was in bad health. Nobody can say +there's any responsibility on us. At least--not on me. + +EDGAR. [Hotly.] I say that we are responsible. + +ANTHONY. War is war! + +EDGAR. Not on women! + +WANKLIN. It not infrequently happens that women are the greatest +sufferers. + +EDGAR. If we knew that, all the more responsibility rests on us. + +ANTHONY. This is no matter for amateurs. + +EDGAR. Call me what you like, sir. It's sickened me. We had no +right to carry things to such a length. + +WILDER. I don't like this business a bit--that Radical rag will +twist it to their own ends; see if they don't! They'll get up some +cock and bull story about the poor woman's dying from starvation. I +wash my hands of it. + +EDGAR. You can't. None of us can. + +SCANTLEBURY. [Striking his fist on the arm of his chair.] But I +protest against this! + +EDGAR. Protest as you like, Mr. Scantlebury, it won't alter facts. + +ANTHONY. That's enough. + +EDGAR. [Facing him angrily.] No, sir. I tell you exactly what I +think. If we pretend the men are not suffering, it's humbug; and if +they're suffering, we know enough of human nature to know the women +are suffering more, and as to the children--well--it's damnable! + + [SCANTLEBURY rises from his chair.] + +I don't say that we meant to be cruel, I don't say anything of the +sort; but I do say it's criminal to shut our eyes to the facts. We +employ these men, and we can't get out of it. I don't care so much +about the men, but I'd sooner resign my position on the Board than go +on starving women in this way. + + [All except ANTHONY are now upon their feet, ANTHONY sits + grasping the arms of his chair and staring at his son.] + +SCANTLEBURY. I don't--I don't like the way you're putting it, young +sir. + +WANKLIN. You're rather overshooting the mark. + +WILDER. I should think so indeed! + +EDGAR. [Losing control.] It's no use blinking things! If you want +to have the death of women on your hands--I don't! + +SCANTLEBURY. Now, now, young man! + +WILDER. On our hands? Not on mine, I won't have it! + +EDGAR. We are five members of this Board; if we were four against +it, why did we let it drift till it came to this? You know perfectly +well why--because we hoped we should starve the men out. Well, all +we've done is to starve one woman out! + +SCANTLEBURY. [Almost hysterically.] I protest, I protest! I'm a +humane man--we're all humane men! + +EDGAR. [Scornfully.] There's nothing wrong with our humanity. It's +our imaginations, Mr. Scantlebury. + +WILDER. Nonsense! My imagination's as good as yours. + +EDGAR. If so, it is n't good enough. + +WILDER. I foresaw this! + +EDGAR. Then why didn't you put your foot down! + +WILDER. Much good that would have done. + + [He looks at ANTHONY.] + +EDGAR. If you, and I, and each one of us here who say that our +imaginations are so good-- + +SCANTLEBURY. [Flurried.] I never said so. + +EDGAR. [Paying no attention.]--had put our feet down, the thing +would have been ended long ago, and this poor woman's life wouldn't +have been crushed out of her like this. For all we can tell there +may be a dozen other starving women. + +SCANTLEBURY. For God's sake, sir, don't use that word at a--at a +Board meeting; it's--it's monstrous. + +EDGAR. I will use it, Mr. Scantlebury. + +SCANTLEBURY. Then I shall not listen to you. I shall not listen! +It's painful to me. + + [He covers his ears.] + +WANKLIN. None of us are opposed to a settlement, except your Father. + +EDGAR. I'm certain that if the shareholders knew---- + +WANKLIN. I don't think you'll find their imaginations are any better +than ours. Because a woman happens to have a weak heart---- + +EDGAR. A struggle like this finds out the weak spots in everybody. +Any child knows that. If it hadn't been for this cut-throat policy, +she need n't have died like this; and there would n't be all this +misery that any one who is n't a fool can see is going on. + + [Throughout the foregoing ANTHONY has eyed his son; he now moves + as though to rise, but stops as EDGAR speaks again.] + +I don't defend the men, or myself, or anybody. + +WANKLIN. You may have to! A coroner's jury of disinterested +sympathisers may say some very nasty things. We mustn't lose sight +of our position. + +SCANTLEBURY. [Without uncovering his ears.] Coroner's jury! No, +no, it's not a case for that! + +EDGAR. I 've had enough of cowardice. + +WANKLIN. Cowardice is an unpleasant word, Mr. Edgar Anthony. It +will look very like cowardice if we suddenly concede the men's +demands when a thing like this happens; we must be careful! + +WILDER. Of course we must. We've no knowledge of this matter, +except a rumour. The proper course is to put the whole thing into +the hands of Harness to settle for us; that's natural, that's what we +should have come to any way. + +SCANTLEBURY. [With dignity.] Exactly! [Turning to EDGAR.] And as +to you, young sir, I can't sufficiently express my--my distaste for +the way you've treated the whole matter. You ought to withdraw! +Talking of starvation, talking of cowardice! Considering what our +views are! Except your own is--is one of goodwill--it's most +irregular, it's most improper, and all I can say is it's--it's given +me pain---- + + [He places his hand over his heart.] + +EDGAR. [Stubbornly.] I withdraw nothing. + + [He is about to say mote when SCANTLEBURY once more coveys up + his ears. TENCH suddenly makes a demonstration with the minute- + book. A sense of having been engaged in the unusual comes over + all of them, and one by one they resume their seats. EDGAR + alone remains on his feet.] + +WILDER. [With an air of trying to wipe something out.] I pay no +attention to what young Mr. Anthony has said. Coroner's jury! The +idea's preposterous. I--I move this amendment to the Chairman's +Motion: That the dispute be placed at once in the hands of Mr. Simon +Harness for settlement, on the lines indicated by him this morning. +Any one second that? + + [TENCH writes in his book.] + +WANKLIN. I do. + +WILDER. Very well, then; I ask the Chairman to put it to the Board. + +ANTHONY. [With a great sigh-slowly.] We have been made the subject +of an attack. [Looking round at WILDER and SCANTLEBURY with ironical +contempt.] I take it on my shoulders. I am seventy-six years old. +I have been Chairman of this Company since its inception two-and- +thirty years ago. I have seen it pass through good and evil report. +My connection with it began in the year that this young man was born. + + [EDGAR bows his head. ANTHONY, gripping his chair, goes on.] + +I have had do to with "men" for fifty years; I've always stood up to +them; I have never been beaten yet. I have fought the men of this +Company four times, and four times I have beaten them. It has been +said that I am not the man I was. [He looks at Wilder.] However +that may be, I am man enough to stand to my guns. + + [His voice grows stronger. The double-doors are opened. ENID + slips in, followed by UNDERWOOD, who restrains her.] + +The men have been treated justly, they have had fair wages, we have +always been ready to listen to complaints. It has been said that +times have changed; if they have, I have not changed with them. +Neither will I. It has been said that masters and men are equal! +Cant! There can only be one master in a house! Where two men meet +the better man will rule. It has been said that Capital and Labour +have the same interests. Cant! Their interests are as wide asunder +as the poles. It has been said that the Board is only part of a +machine. Cant! We are the machine; its brains and sinews; it is for +us to lead and to determine what is to be done, and to do it without +fear or favour. Fear of the men! Fear of the shareholders! Fear of +our own shadows! Before I am like that, I hope to die. + + [He pauses, and meeting his son's eyes, goes on.] + +There is only one way of treating "men"--with the iron hand. This +half and half business, the half and half manners of this generation, +has brought all this upon us. Sentiment and softness, and what this +young man, no doubt, would call his social policy. You can't eat +cake and have it! This middle-class sentiment, or socialism, or +whatever it may be, is rotten. Masters are masters, men are men! +Yield one demand, and they will make it six. They are [he smiles +grimly] like Oliver Twist, asking for more. If I were in their +place I should be the same. But I am not in their place. Mark my +words: one fine morning, when you have given way here, and given way +there--you will find you have parted with the ground beneath your +feet, and are deep in the bog of bankruptcy; and with you, +floundering in that bog, will be the very men you have given way to. +I have been accused of being a domineering tyrant, thinking only of +my pride--I am thinking of the future of this country, threatened +with the black waters of confusion, threatened with mob government, +threatened with what I cannot see. If by any conduct of mine I help +to bring this on us, I shall be ashamed to look my fellows in the +face. + + [ANTHONY stares before him, at what he cannot see, and there is + perfect stillness. FROST comes in from the hall, and all but + ANTHONY look round at him uneasily.] + +FROST. [To his master.] The men are here, sir. [ANTHONY makes a +gesture of dismissal.] Shall I bring them in, sir? + +ANTHONY. Wait! + + [FROST goes out, ANTHONY turns to face his son.] + +I come to the attack that has been made upon me. + + [EDGAR, with a gesture of deprecation, remains motionless with + his head a little bowed.] + +A woman has died. I am told that her blood is on my hands; I am told +that on my hands is the starvation and the suffering of other women +and of children. + +EDGAR. I said "on our hands," sir. + +ANTHONY. It is the same. [His voice grows stronger and stronger, +his feeling is more and more made manifest.] I am not aware that if +my adversary suffer in a fair fight not sought by me, it is my fault. +If I fall under his feet--as fall I may--I shall not complain. That +will be my look-out--and this is--his. I cannot separate, as I +would, these men from their women and children. A fair fight is a +fair fight! Let them learn to think before they pick a quarrel! + +EDGAR. [In a low voice.] But is it a fair fight, Father? Look at +them, and look at us! They've only this one weapon! + +ANTHONY. [Grimly.] And you're weak-kneed enough to teach them how +to use it! It seems the fashion nowadays for men to take their +enemy's side. I have not learnt that art. Is it my fault that they +quarrelled with their Union too? + +EDGAR. There is such a thing as Mercy. + +ANTHONY. And justice comes before it. + +EDGAR. What seems just to one man, sir, is injustice to another. + +ANTHONY. [With suppressed passion.] You accuse me of injustice--of +what amounts to inhumanity--of cruelty? + + [EDGAR makes a gesture of horror--a general frightened + movement.] + +WANKLIN. Come, come, Chairman. + +ANTHONY. [In a grim voice.] These are the words of my own son. +They are the words of a generation that I don't understand; the words +of a soft breed. + + [A general murmur. With a violent effort ANTHONY recovers his + control.] + +EDGAR. [Quietly.] I said it of myself, too, Father. + + [A long look is exchanged between them, and ANTHONY puts out his + hand with a gesture as if to sweep the personalities away; then + places it against his brow, swaying as though from giddiness. + There is a movement towards him. He moves them back.] + +ANTHONY. Before I put this amendment to the Board, I have one more +word to say. [He looks from face to face.] If it is carried, it +means that we shall fail in what we set ourselves to do. It means +that we shall fail in the duty that we owe to all Capital. It means +that we shall fail in the duty that we owe ourselves. It means that +we shall be open to constant attack to which we as constantly shall +have to yield. Be under no misapprehension--run this time, and you +will never make a stand again! You will have to fly like curs before +the whips of your own men. If that is the lot you wish for, you will +vote for this amendment. + + [He looks again, from face to face, finally resting his gaze on + EDGAR; all sit with their eyes on the ground. ANTHONY makes a + gesture, and TENCH hands him the book. He reads.] + +"Moved by Mr. Wilder, and seconded by Mr. Wanklin: 'That the men's +demands be placed at once in the hands of Mr. Simon Harness for +settlement on the lines indicated by him this morning.'" [With +sudden vigour.] Those in favour: Signify the same in the usual way! + + [For a minute no one moves; then hastily, just as ANTHONY is + about to speak, WILDER's hand and WANKLIN'S are held up, then + SCANTLEBURY'S, and last EDGAR'S who does not lift his head.] + + [ANTHONY lifts his own hand.] + +[In a clear voice.] The amendment is carried. I resign my position +on this Board. + + [ENID gasps, and there is dead silence. ANTHONY sits + motionless, his head slowly drooping; suddenly he heaves as + though the whole of his life had risen up within him.] + +Contrary? + +Fifty years! You have disgraced me, gentlemen. Bring in the men! + + [He sits motionless, staring before him. The Board draws + hurriedly together, and forms a group. TENCH in a frightened + manner speaks into the hall. UNDERWOOD almost forces ENID from + the room.] + +WILDER. [Hurriedly.] What's to be said to them? Why isn't Harness +here? Ought we to see the men before he comes? I don't---- + +TENCH. Will you come in, please? + + [Enter THOMAS, GREEN, BULGIN, and ROUS, who file up in a row + past the little table. TENCH sits down and writes. All eyes + are foxed on ANTHONY, who makes no sign.] + +WANKLIN. [Stepping up to the little table, with nervous cordiality.] +Well, Thomas, how's it to be? What's the result of your meeting? + +ROUS. Sim Harness has our answer. He'll tell you what it is. We're +waiting for him. He'll speak for us. + +WANKLIN. Is that so, Thomas? + +THOMAS. [Sullenly.] Yes. Roberts will not pe coming, his wife is +dead. + +SCANTLEBURY. Yes, yes! Poor woman! Yes! Yes! + +FROST. [Entering from the hall.] Mr. Harness, Sir! + + [As HARNESS enters he retires.] + + [HARNESS has a piece of paper in his hand, he bows to the + Directors, nods towards the men, and takes his stand behind the + little table in the very centre of the room.] + +HARNESS. Good evening, gentlemen. + + [TENCH, with the paper he has been writing, joins him, they + speak together in low tones.] + +WILDER. We've been waiting for you, Harness. Hope we shall come to +some---- + +FROST. [Entering from the hall.] Roberts! + + [He goes.] + + [ROBERTS comes hastily in, and stands staring at ANTHONY. His + face is drawn and old.] + +ROBERTS. Mr. Anthony, I am afraid I am a little late, I would have +been here in time but for something that--has happened. [To the +men.] Has anything been said? + +THOMAS. No! But, man, what made ye come? + +ROBERTS. Ye told us this morning, gentlemen, to go away and +reconsider our position. We have reconsidered it; we are here to +bring you the men's answer. [To ANTHONY.] Go ye back to London. We +have nothing for you. By no jot or tittle do we abate our demands, +nor will we until the whole of those demands are yielded. + + [ANTHONY looks at him but does not speak. There is a movement + amongst the men as though they were bewildered.] + +HARNESS. Roberts! + +ROBERTS. [Glancing fiercely at him, and back to ANTHONY.] Is that +clear enough for ye? Is it short enough and to the point? Ye made a +mistake to think that we would come to heel. Ye may break the body, +but ye cannot break the spirit. Get back to London, the men have +nothing for ye? + + [Pausing uneasily he takes a step towards the unmoving ANTHONY.] + +EDGAR. We're all sorry for you, Roberts, but---- + +ROBERTS. Keep your sorrow, young man. Let your father speak! + +HARNESS. [With the sheet of paper in his hand, speaking from behind +the little table.] Roberts! + +ROBERT. [TO ANTHONY, with passionate intensity.] Why don't ye +answer? + +HARNESS. Roberts! + +ROBERTS. [Turning sharply.] What is it? + +HARNESS. [Gravely.] You're talking without the book; things have +travelled past you. + + [He makes a sign to TENCH, who beckons the Directors. They + quickly sign his copy of the terms.] + +Look at this, man! [Holding up his sheet of paper.] "Demands +conceded, with the exception of those relating to the engineers and +furnace-men. Double wages for Saturday's overtime. Night-shifts as +they are." These terms have been agreed. The men go back to work +again to-morrow. The strike is at an end. + +ROBERTS. [Reading the paper, and turning on the men. They shrink +back from him, all but ROUS, who stands his ground. With deadly +stillness.] Ye have gone back on me? I stood by ye to the death; ye +waited for that to throw me over! + + [The men answer, all speaking together.] + +ROUS. It's a lie! + +THOMAS. Ye were past endurance, man. + +GREEN. If ye'd listen to me! + +BULGIN. (Under his breath.) Hold your jaw! + +ROBERTS. Ye waited for that! + +HARNESS. [Taking the Director's copy of the terms, and handing his +own to TENCH.] That's enough, men. You had better go. + + [The men shuffle slowly, awkwardly away.] + +WILDER. [In a low, nervous voice.] There's nothing to stay for now, +I suppose. [He follows to the door.] I shall have a try for that +train! Coming, Scantlebury? + +SCANTLEBURY. [Following with WANKLIN.] Yes, yes; wait for me. [He +stops as ROBERTS speaks.] + +ROBERTS. [To ANTHONY.] But ye have not signed them terms! They +can't make terms without their Chairman! Ye would never sign them +terms! [ANTHONY looks at him without speaking.] Don't tell me ye +have! for the love o' God! [With passionate appeal.] I reckoned on +ye! + +HARNESS. [Holding out the Director's copy of the teems.] The Board +has signed! + + [ROBERTS looks dully at the signatures--dashes the paper from + him, and covers up his eyes.] + +SCANTLEBURY. [Behind his hand to TENCH.] Look after the Chairman! +He's not well; he's not well--he had no lunch. If there's any fund +started for the women and children, put me down for--for twenty +pounds. + + [He goes out into the hall, in cumbrous haste; and WANKLIN, who + has been staring at ROBERTS and ANTHONY With twitchings of his + face, follows. EDGAR remains seated on the sofa, looking at the + ground; TENCH, returning to the bureau, writes in his minute-- + book. HARNESS stands by the little table, gravely watching + ROBERTS.] + +ROBERTS. Then you're no longer Chairman of this Company! [Breaking +into half-mad laughter.] Ah! ha-ah, ha, ha! They've thrown ye over +thrown over their Chairman: Ah-ha-ha! [With a sudden dreadful calm.] +So--they've done us both down, Mr. Anthony? + + [ENID, hurrying through the double-doors, comes quickly to her + father.] + +ANTHONY. Both broken men, my friend Roberts! + +HARNESS. [Coming down and laying his hands on ROBERTS'S sleeve.] +For shame, Roberts! Go home quietly, man; go home! + +ROBERTS. [Tearing his arm away.] Home? [Shrinking together--in a +whisper.] Home! + +ENID. [Quietly to her father.] Come away, dear! Come to your room + + [ANTHONY rises with an effort. He turns to ROBERTS who looks at + him. They stand several seconds, gazing at each other fixedly; + ANTHONY lifts his hand, as though to salute, but lets it fall. + The expression of ROBERTS'S face changes from hostility to + wonder. They bend their heads in token of respect. ANTHONY + turns, and slowly walks towards the curtained door. Suddenly + he sways as though about to fall, recovers himself, and is + assisted out by EDGAR and ENID; UNDERWOOD follows, but stops at + the door. ROBERTS remains motionless for several seconds, + staring intently after ANTHONY, then goes out into the hall.] + +TENCH. [Approaching HARNESS.] It's a great weight off my mind, Mr. +Harness! But what a painful scene, sir! [He wipes his brow.] + + [HARNESS, pale and resolute, regards with a grim half-smile the + quavering.] + +TENCH. It's all been so violent! What did he mean by: "Done us both +down?" If he has lost his wife, poor fellow, he oughtn't to have +spoken to the Chairman like that! + +HARNESS. A woman dead; and the two best men both broken! + +TENCH. [Staring at him-suddenly excited.] D'you know, sir--these +terms, they're the very same we drew up together, you and I, and put +to both sides before the fight began? All this--all this--and--and +what for? + +HARNESS. [In a slow grim voice.] That's where the fun comes in! + + [UNDERWOOD without turning from the door makes a gesture of + assent.] + + + The curtain falls. + + + + + +*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE FIRST SERIES PLAYS BY GALSWORTHY *** + +************ This file should be named gpl1w10.txt or gpl1w10.zip ************* + +Corrected EDITIONS of our eBooks get a new NUMBER, gpl1w11.txt +VERSIONS based on separate sources get new LETTER, gpl1w10a.txt + +This eBook was produced by David Widger <widger@cecomet.net> + +Project Gutenberg eBooks are often created from several printed +editions, all of which are confirmed as Public Domain in the US +unless a copyright notice is included. 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