The Pot Boiler: A Comedy in Four Acts Part 8

_Shoveller_. Whose d'ye think it is?

_Jack_. I mean--where did you get it?

_Shoveller_ (_bridling_). You mean I stole it?

_Jack_. No--no! I mean, I'd like to get one. (_The other pays no heed._) You see, I'm up against it, and I thought perhaps I could earn money shovelling snow. I'd like to get a shovel. (_The other still pays no heed._) You wouldn't like to rent it for a while, would you?

_Shoveller_ (_with mock merriment_). And me live on me income, hey?

_Jack._ I might help you, perhaps--

_Shoveller_. Say, young fellow, if you really want to help me, get a hot water bottle an' hold it to me feet!

_Jack (stands nonplussed, then turns away Left; as he is about to exit he changes his mind, and rings the bell at the door of a house Left. Butler comes_) I beg pardon--

_Butler_. Well, what d'ya want?

_Jack_. Could I shovel the snow off your sidewalk?

_Butler_ (_fiercely_). What d'ye mean by comin' to the front door?

_Jack_. Oh, I forgot.

_Butler_. Gow an with ye!

_Jack_. Won't you give me a chance?

_Butler_. Where's your shovel?

_Jack_. Why--I haven't a shovel.

_Butler_. Well, what d'ya mean to use? Your hands?

_Jack_. I thought you might lend me--

_Butler_. Lend you! And me standin' out in the snow to watch ye return it, hey?

_Jack_ (_humbly_). I won't steal anything. I'm trying honestly to earn the price of a shovel.

_Butler_. If ye didn't spend your money in drink, ye might have the price.

_Jack_. I haven't had anything to drink--nor anything to eat either.

_Butler_. Well, we ain't runnin' no breadline 'ere. Get along with ye! _(Slams door.)_

_Jack (stands shaking his head meditatively)_ Gee! This is a cold world!

_Shoveller_. Say, young fellow! I'll tell ye what to do.

_Jack_. What's that?

_Shoveller_. Come back in August. Ye'll find it warmer.

_Jack (wanders off muttering to himself)._ I've got to get a shovel!

_Bill (appears at window Right)_. Say, Peggy! _(The Play-play vanishes.)_

_Peggy_. What is it, dear?

_Bill_. Can I have my paper soldiers?

_Peggy_. Yes, dear. _(Hurries to get them.)_ Now be quiet, Bill. I'm busy now.

_Bill_. Where is Will?

_Peggy_. Was.h.i.+ng the dishes.

_Bill_. Can't I help him?

_Peggy_. No, dear--we've got to talk about this play we're writing.

Here are the soldiers.

_Bill_. All right. _(Exit Right.)_

_Peggy (goes to entrance Left where dishes are heard rattling)_. How are you making out?

_Will (off Left)_. What do you think of my opening scenes?

_Peggy_. Why, I think they could be better. You see, Will, you don't really know anything about snow-shovellers or butlers.

_Will_ (_appears in doorway Left, wiping a dish_). I've got a real character for the next scene at least. I used Bill!

_Peggy_. For heaven's sake!

_Will_. As a street-gamin.

_Peggy_. But Bill's not like a street-gamin. Such a child is full of slang.

_Will_. I thought of what Bill might have been if he'd been turned out to s.h.i.+ft for himself. I imagined the soul of a street-gamin in the body of our Bill.

_Peggy_. That sounds rather terrible. (_A pause_.) By the way, Will!

That love-interest you said was to come! Where is it?

_Will_. I've hardly got into the act yet.

_Peggy_. Well, you'd better get into your love-interest!

_Will_. The next scene is to be another dropcurtain. A restaurant.

I'm using that one down our street. Read it. (_He disappears Left.