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Harry. What for? For running away? (_Indignant_.) Why, he wanted to make a blamed lawyer's clerk of me.
(_From here this scene goes on mainly near and about the street lamp_.)
Bessie (_Rousing herself_). What are you? A sailor?
Harry. Anything you like. (_Proudly_.) Sailor enough to be worth my salt on board any craft that swims the seas.
Bessie. He will never, never believe it. He mustn't be contradicted.
Harry. Always liked to have his own way. And you've been encouraging him.
Bessie (_Earnestly_). No!--not in everything--not really!
Harry (_Vexed laugh_). What about that pretty tomorrow notion? I've a hungry chum in London--waiting for me.
Bessie (_Defending herself_). Why should I make the poor old friendless man miserable? I thought you were far away. I thought you were dead. I didn't know but you had never been born. I... I... (_Harry turns to her.
She desperately_.) It was easier to believe it myself. (_Carried away_.) And after all it's true. It's come to pa.s.s. This is the to-morrow we've been waiting for.
Harry (_Half perfunctorily_). Aye. Anybody can see that your heart is as soft as your voice.
Bessie (_As if unable to keep back the words_). I didn't think you would have noticed my voice.
Harry (_Already inattentive_). H'm. Dashed sc.r.a.pe. This is a queer to-morrow, without any sort of today, as far as I can see.
(_Resolutely_.) I must try the door.
Bessie. Well--try, then.
Harry (_From gate looking over shoulder at Bessie_). He ain't likely to fly out at me, is he? I would be afraid of laying my hands on him. The chaps are always telling me I don't know my own strength.
Bessie (_In front_). He's the most harmless creature that ever. ..
Harry. You wouldn't say so if you had seen him walloping me with a hard leather strap. (_Walking up garden_.) I haven't forgotten it in sixteen long years. (_Rat-tat-tat twice_.) Hullo, Dad. (_Bessie intensely expectant. Rat-tat-tat_.) Hullo, Dad--let me in. I am your own Harry.
Straight. Your son Harry come back home--a day too soon.
(_Window above rumbles up_.)
Capt. H. (_Seen leaning out, aiming with spade_). Aha! Bessie (_Warningly_). Look out, Harry! (_Spade falls_.) Are you hurt? (_Window rumbles down_.) Harry (_In the distance_). Only grazed my hat.
Bessie. Thank G.o.d! (_Intensely_.) What'll he do now?
Harry (_Comes forward, slamming gate behind him_). Just like old times.
Nearly licked the life out of me for wanting to go away, and now I come back he s.h.i.+es a confounded old shovel at my head. (_Fumes. Laughs a little_). I wouldn't care, only poor little Ginger--Ginger's my chum up in London--he will starve while I walk back all the way from here.
(_Faces Bessie blankly_.) I spent my last twopence on a shave. ... Out of respect for the old man.
Bessie. I think, if you let me, I could manage to talk him round in a week, maybe.
(_A m.u.f.fled periodical bellowing had been heard faintly for some time_.)
Harry (_On the alert_). What's this? Who's making this row? Hark!
Bessie, Bessie. It's in your house, I believe.
Bessie (_Without stirring, drearily_). It's for me.
Harry (_Discreetly, whispering_). Good voice for a s.h.i.+p's deck in a squall. Your husband? (_Steps out of lamplight_.)
Bessie. No. My father. He's blind. (_Pause_). I'm not married.
(_Bellowings grow louder_.)
Harry. Oh, I say. What's up? Who's murdering him?
Bessie (_Calmly_). I expect he's finished his tea. (_Bellowing continues regularly_.)
Harry. Hadn't you better see to it? You'll have the whole town coming out here presently. (_Bessie moves off_.) I say! (_Bessie stops_.) Couldn't you scare up some bread and b.u.t.ter for me from that tea? I'm hungry. Had no breakfast.
Bessie (_Starts off at the word "hungry," dropping to the ground the white woollen shawl_). I won't be a minute. Don't go away.
Harry (_Alone; picks up shawl absently, and, looking at it spread out in his hands, p.r.o.nounces slowly_). A--dam'--silly--sc.r.a.pe. (_Pause. Throws shawl on arm. Strolls up and down. Mutters._) No money to get back.
(_Louder_.) Silly little Ginger'll think I've got hold of the pieces and given an old s.h.i.+pmate the go by. One good shove--(_Makes motion of bursting in door with his shoulders_)--would burst that door in--I bet.
(_Looks about_.) I wonder where the nearest bobby is! No. They would want to bundle me neck and crop into chokey. (_Shudders_.) Perhaps. It makes me dog sick to think of being locked up. Haven't got the nerve.
Not for prison. (_Leans against lamp-post_.) And not a cent for my fare.
I wonder if that girl now...
Bessie (Coming hastily forward, plate with bread and meat in hand). I didn't take time to get anything else....
Harry (_Begins to eat_). You're not standing treat to a beggar. My dad is a rich man--you know.
Bessie (_Plate in hand_). You resemble your father.
Harry. I was the very image of him in face from a boy--(_Eats_)--and that's about as far as it goes. He was always one of your domestic characters. He looked sick when he had to go to sea for a fortnight's trip. (_Laughs_.) He was all for house and home.
Bessie. And you? Have you never wished for a home? (_Goes off with empty plate and puts it down hastily on Carvil's bench--out of sight_.)
Harry (_Left in front_). Home! If I found myself shut up in what the old man calls a home, I would kick it down about my ears on the third day--or else go to bed and die before the week was out. Die in a house--ough!
Bessie (_Returning; stops and speaks from garden railing_). And where is it that you would wish to die?
Harry. In the bush, in the sea, on some blamed mountain-top for choice.
No such luck, tho', I suppose.
Bessie (_From distance_). Would that be luck? Harry. Yes! For them that make the whole world their home.
Bessie (_Comes forward shyly_). The world's a cold home--they say.
Harry (_A little gloomy_). So it is. When a man's done for.
Bessie. You see! (_Taunting_). And a s.h.i.+p's not so very big after all.
Harry. No. But the sea is great. And then what of the s.h.i.+p! You love her and leave her, Miss--Bessie's your name--isn't it?... I like that name.