Stephen Archer, and Other Tales

  ACT II.

  SCENE.--_A street in Mayfair_. MRS. CLIFFORD'S _house. A pastrycook'sshop. Boys looking in at the window_.

  _Bill._ I say, Jim, ain't it a lot o' grub? If I wos a pig now,--

  _Jack._ I likes to hear Bill a supposin' of hisself. Go it, Bill!--Thereain't nothink _he_ can't suppose hisself, Jim.--Bein' as you ain't a pig.Bill, you've got yer own trotters, an' yer own tater-trap.

  _Bill._ Vereupon blue Bobby eccosts me with the remark, "I wants you,Bill;" and seein' me too parerlyzed to bolt, he pops me in that 'erejug vithout e'er a handle.

  _Jack._ Mother kep' a pig once.

  _Jim._ What was he like, Jack?

  _Jack._ As like any other pig as ever he could look; accep' that whereother pigs is black he wor white, an' where other pigs is white he worblack.

  _Jim._ Did you have the milk in your tea, Jack?

  _Jack._ Pigs ain't got no milk, Jim, you stupe!

  _Bill._ Pigs _has_ milk, Jack, only they don't give it to coves.--Iwish I wos the Lord Mayor!

  _Jack._ Go it again, Bill. He ought ha' been a beak, Bill ought. What'ud you do, Bill, supposin' as how you wos the Lord Mayor?

  _Bill._ I'd take all the beaks, an' all the peelers, an' put their ownbracelets on 'em, an' feed 'em once a day on scraps o' wittles tobring out the hunger: a cove can't be hungry upon nuffin at all.

  _Jim._ He gets what mother calls the squeamishes.

  _Jack._ Well, Bill?

  _Bill._ Well, the worry moment their bellies was as long an' as looseas a o'-clo'-bag of a winter's mornin', I'd bring 'em all up to this'ere winder, five or six at a time--with the darbies on, mind ye--

  _Jim._ And I'm to be there to see, Bill--ain't I?

  _Bill._ If you're good, Jim, an' don't forget yer prayers.

  _Jack._ My eye! it's as good as a penny gaff! Go it, Bill.

  _Bill._ Then I up an' addresses 'em: "My Lords an' Gen'lemen, 'cos ashow ye're all good boys, an' goes to church, an' don't eat _too_ manywittles, an' don't take off your bracelets when you goes to bed, youshall obswerve me eat."

  _Jim._ Go it, Bill! I likes you, Bill.

  _Bill._ No, Jim; I must close. The imagination is a 'ungry gift, asthe cock said when he bolted the pebbles. Let's sojourn the meetin'.

  _Jack_. Yes; come along. 'Tain't a comfable corner this yere: the windcuts round uncommon sharp. Them pies ain't good--leastways not tolook at.

  _Bill_. They ain't disgestible. But look ye here, Jack andJim--hearkee, my kids. (_Puts an arm round the neck of each, andwhispers first to one and then to the other_.)

  _Enter_ MATTIE _and_ SUSAN.

  _Sus_. Now, Mattie, we're close to the house, an' I don't want to beseen with you, for she's mad at _me_.

  _Mat_. You must have made her mad, then, Sue.

  _Sus_. She madded me first: what else when she wouldn't believe a wordI said? She'd ha' sworn on the gospel book, we sent the parcel up thespout. But she'll believe _you_, an' give you something, and thenwe'll have a chop!

  _Mat_. How can you expect that, Sue, when the work's lost?

  _Sus_. Never mind; you go and see.

  _Mat_. I shan't take it, Susan. I couldn't.

  _Sus_. Stuff and nonsense! I'll wait you round the corner: I don'tlike the smell o' them pastry things.

  _Exit_. MATTIE _walks past the window_.

  _Mat_. I don't like going. It makes me feel a thief to be suspected.

  _Bill_. Lor! it's our Mattie! There's our Mattie!--Mattie! Mattie!

  _Mat_. Ah, Bill! you're there--are you?

  _Bill_. Yes, Mattie. It's a tart-show. You walks up and takes yerchice;--leastways, you makes it: somebody else takes it.

  _Mat_. Wouldn't you like to _take_ your choice sometimes, Bill?

  _Bill_. In course I would.

  _Mat_. Then why don't you work, and better yourself a bit?

  _Bill_. Bless you, Mattie! myself is werry comf'able. He nevercomplains.

  _Mat_. You're hungry sometimes,--ain't you?

  _Bill_. Most remarkable 'ungry, Mattie--this werry moment. Odd youshould ask now--ain't it?

  _Mat_. You would get plenty to eat if you would work.

  _Bill_. Thank you--I'd rayther not. Them as ain't 'ungry never enj'ystheir damaged tarts. If I'm 'appy, vere's the odds? as the cat said tothe mouse as wanted to be let off the engagement. Why should I workmore'n any other gen'leman?

  _Mat_. A gentleman that don't work is a curse to his neighbours, Bill.

  _Bill_. Bless you, Mattie! I ain't a curse--nohow to nobody. I don'tsee as you've got any call to say that, Mattie. I don't go fakin'clies, or crackin' cribs--nothin' o' the sort. An' I don't mind doin'of a odd job, if it _is_ a odd one. Don't go for to say that again,Mattie.

  _Mat_. I won't, then, Bill. But just look at yourself!--You're all inrags.

  _Bill_. Rags is the hairier, as the Skye terrier said to theblack-an'-tan.--I shouldn't object to a new pair of old trousers,though.

  _Mat_. Why don't you have a pair of real new ones? If you would onlysweep a crossing--

  _Bill_. There ain't, a crossin' but what's took. Besides, my legsain't put together for one place all day long. It ain't to be done,Mattie. They can't do it.

  _Mat_. There's the shoe-black business, then.

  _Bill_. That ain't so bad, acause you can shoulder your box andtrudge. But if it's all the same to you, Mattie, I'd rayther enj'ylife: they say it's short.

  _Mat_. But it ain't the same to me. It's so bad for you to be idle,Bill!

  _Bill_. Not as I knows on. I'm tollable jolly, so long's I gets thebrowns for my bed.

  _Mat_. Wouldn't you like a bed with a blanket to it?

  _Bill_. Well, yes--if it was guv to me. But I don't go in for knockingof yourself about, to sleep warm.

  _Mat_. Well, look here, Bill. It's all Susan and I can do to pay forour room, and get a bit of bread and a cup of tea. It ain'tenough.--If you were to earn a few pence now--

  _Bill_. Oh golly! I never thought o' that. What a hass I wur, to besure! I'll go a shoe-blackin' to-morror--I will.

  _Mat_. Did you ever black a shoe, Bill?

  _Bill_. I tried a boot oncet--when Jim wor a blackin' for a day ortwo. But I made nothink on it--nothink worth mentionin'. The blackin'or som'at was wrong. The gen'leman said it wur coal-dust, an he'd slogme, an' adwised me to go an' learn my trade.

  _Mat_. And what did you say to that?

  _Bill_. Holler'd out "Shine yer boots!" as loud as I could holler.

  _Mat_. You must try my boots next time you come.

  _Bill_. This wery night, Mattie. I'll make 'em shine like plateglass--see then if I don't. But where'll I get a box and brushes?

  _Mat_. You shall have our brushes and my footstool.

  _Bill_. I see! Turn the stool upside down, put the brushes in, andcarry it by one leg--as drunken Moll does her kid.--Here you are, sir!Black your boots, sir?--Shine your trotters, sir? (_bawling_.)

  _Mat_. That'll do; that'll do, Bill! Famous! You needn't do it again(_holding her ears_). Would you like a tart?

  _Bill_. Just wouldn't I, then!--Shine your boooooots!

  _Mat_. (_laughing_). Do hold your tongue, Bill. There's a penny for atart.

  _Bill_. Thank you, Mattie. Thank you.

  _Exit into the shop_.

  _Jack and Jim_ (_touching their supposed caps_). Please, ma'am! Please,ma'am! I likes 'em too. I likes 'em more 'n Bill.

  _Mat_. I'm very sorry, but--(_feeling in her pocket_) I've got aha'penny, I believe. No--there's a penny! You must share it, youknow. (_Gives it to Jack. Knocks at Mrs. Clifford's door._)

  _Jack and Jim_. Thank you, ma'am. Thank you, ma'am.

  _Exit_ MATTIE _into_ MRS. CLIFFORD'S.

  _Jim_. Now, Jack, what's it to be?

  _Jack_. I believe I shall spend it in St. Martin's Lane.

  _Jim_. A ha'p'orth on it's mine, you know, Jack.

  _Jack_. Well, you do put the stunners on me!

  _Jim_. She said we wos to divide it--she did.


  _Jack_. 'Taint possible. It beats my ivories. (_He pretends to biteit_. JIM _flies at him in a rage_.)

  _Re-enter_ BILL, _with his mouth full_.

  _Bill_. Now what are you two a squabblin' over? Oh! Jack's got ayennep, and Jim's iookin' shirty.

  _Jim_. She told him to divide it, and he won't.

  _Bill_. Who told him?

  _Jim_. Mattie.

  _Bill_. You dare, Jack? Hand over.

  _Jack_. Be hanged if I do.

  _Bill_. Then do and be hanged. (_A struggle_.) There, Jim! Now you goand buy what you like.

  _Jim_. Am I to give Jack the half?

  _Bill_. Yes, if our Mattie said it.

  _Jim_. All right, Bill. (_Goes into the shop_.)

  _Jack_. I owe you one for that, Bill.

  _Bill_. Owe it me then, Jack. I do like fair play--always did(_eating_).

  _Jack_. You ain't a sharin' of _your_ yennep, Bill.

  _Bill_. Mattie didn't say I was to. She knowed one wouldn't break upinto three nohow. 'Tain't in natur', Jack.

  _Jack_. You might ha' guv me a bite, anyhow, Bill.

  _Bill_. It ain't desirable, Jack--size o' trap dooly considered. Herecomes your share.

  _Re-enter_ JIM. _Gives a bun to_ JACK.

  _Jim_. I tell you what, Bill--she ain't _your_ Mattie. She ain'tnobody's Mattie; she's a hangel.

  _Bill_. No, Jim, she ain't a hangel; she 'ain't got no wings,leastways outside her clo'es, and she 'ain't got clo'es enough to hide'em. I wish I wos a hangel!

  _Jack_. At it again, Bill! I _do_ like to hear Bill a wishin' ofhisself! Why, Bill?

  _Bill_. Acause they're never 'ungry.

  _Jack_. How do you know they ain't?

  _Bill_. You never sees 'em loafin' about nowheres.

  _Jim_. Is Mattie your sister, Bill?

  _Bill_. No, Jim; I ain't good 'nough to have a sister like she.

  _Jack_. Your sweetheart, Bill? Ha! ha! ha!

  _Bill_. Dry up, Jack.

  _Jim_. Tell me about her, Bill. _I_ didn't jaw you.

  _Bill_. She lives in our court, Jim. Makes shirts and things.

  _Jack_. Oh! ho!

  BILL _hits_ JACK. JACK _doubles himself up_.

  _Bill_. Jim, our Mattie ain't like other gals; I never see her outafore this blessed day--upon my word and honour, Jim, never!

  _Jack_. (_wiping his nose with his sleeve_). You don't know a jokefrom a jemmy, Bill.

  _Bill_. I'll joke you!--A hangel tips you a tart, and you plucks herfeathers! Get on t'other side of the way, you little dirty devil, orI'll give you another smeller--cheap too. Off with you!

  _Jack_. No, Bill; no, please. I'm wery sorry. I ain't so bad's allthat comes to.

  _Bill_. If you wants to go with Jim and me, then behave like agen'leman.

  _Jim_. I calls our Mattie a brick!

  _Bill_. None o' _your_ jaw, Jim! She ain't _your_ Mattie.

  Enter THOMAS.

  _Tho._ Childer, dun yo know th' way to Paradise--Row, or Road, orsummat?

  _Bill_. Dunnow, sir. You axes at the Sunday-school.

  _Tho._ Wheer's th' Sunday-school, chylt?

  _Bill_. Second door round the corner, sir.

  _Tho._ Second dur reawnd th' corner! Which corner, my man?

  _Bill_. Round _any_ corner. Second door's all-ways Sunday-school.(_Takes a sight. Exeunt boys_.)

  THOMAS _sits down on a door-step_.

  _Tho._ Eh, but aw be main weary! Surely th' Lord dunnot be a forsakin'ov mo. There's that abeawt th' lost ship. Oop yon, wheer th' angelskeep greight flocks ov 'em, they dunnot like to lose one ov 'em, an'they met well be helpin' ov mo to look for mo lost lamb i' this awfulplaze! What has th' shepherd o' th' sheep himsel' to do, God blesshim! but go look for th' lost ones and carry 'em whoam! O Lord! gie momo Mattie. Aw'm a silly ship mosel, a sarchin' for mo lost lamb.(_Boys begin to gather and stare_.) She's o' the world to me. O Lord,hear mo, and gie mo mo Mattie. Nea, aw'll geet oop, and go look again.(_Rises_.)

  _First Boy_. Ain't he a cricket, Tommy?

  _Second Boy_. Spry, ain't he? Prod him, and see him jump. (_Generalinsult_.)

  _Tho._ Why, childer, what have aw done, that yo cry after mo like athief?

  _First Boy_. Daddy Longlegs! Daddy Longlegs!

  _They hustle and crowd him. Re-enter_ BILL. THOMAS _makes a rush. They run. He seizes_ BILL. _They gather again_.

  _Tho._ Han yo getten a mother, lad?

  _Bill_. No, thank ye. 'Ain't got no mother. Come of a haunt, I do.

  _First Boy_. Game!--ain't he?

  _Tho._ Well, aw'll tak yo whoam to yor aunt--aw wull.

  _Bill_. Will you now, old chap? Wery well. (_Squats_.)

  _Tho._ (_holding him up by the collar, and shaking his stick overhim_). Tell mo wheer's por aunt, or aw'll breyk every bone i' yorbody.

  _Bill_ (_wriggling and howling and rubbing his eyes with alternatesleeves_). Let me go, I say. Let me go and I'll tell ye. I willindeed, sir.

  _Tho._ (_letting go_) Wheer then, mo lad?

  _Bill_ (_starting up_). I' the church-cellar, sir--first bin over theleft--feeds musty, and smells strong. Ho! ho! ho! (_Takes a sight_.)

  THOMAS _makes a dart_. BILL _dodges him_.

  _First Boy_. Ain't he a cricket _now_, Tommy?

  _Second Boy_. Got one leg too many for a cricket, Sam.

  _Third Boy_. That's what he jerks hisself with, Tommy.

  _Tho._ Boys, I want to be freens wi' yo. Here's a penny.

  _One of the boys knocks it out of his hand. A scramble_.

  _Tho._ Now, boys, dun yo know wheer's a young woman bi th' name ovMattie--somewheer abeawt Paradise Row?

  _First Boy_. Yes, old un.

  _Second Boy_. Lots on 'em.

  _Third Boy_. Which on em' do you want, Mr. Cricket?

  _Fourth Boy_. You ain't peticlar, I s'pose, old corner-bones?

  _First Boy_. Don't you fret, old stilts. We'll find you a Mattie.There's plenty on 'em--all nice gals.

  _Tho._ I want mo own Mattie.

  _First Boy_. Why, you'd never tell one from t'other on 'em!

  _Third Boy_. All on 'em wery glad to see old Daddy Longlegs!

  _Tho._ Oh dear! Oh dear! What an awful plaze this Lon'on do be! Tosee the childer so bad!

  _Second Boy_. Don't cry, gran'pa. _She'_d chaff you worser 'n us!We're only poor little innocent boys. We don't know nothink, blessyou! Oh no!

  _First Boy_. You'd better let her alone, arter all, bag o' nails.

  _Second Boy_. She'll have it out on you now, for woppin' of her whenshe wor a kid.

  _First Boy_. She's a wopper herself now.

  _Third Boy_. Mighty fine, with your shirt for a great-coat. He! he!he!

  _Fourth Boy_. Mattie never kicks us poor innocent boys--cos we 'ain'tgot no mothers to take our parts. Boo hoo!

  _Enter_ JACK--_his hands in his pockets_.

  _Jack_. What's the row, Bill?

  _Bill_. Dunnow, Jack. Old chap collared me when I wasn't alludin' tohim. He's after some Mattie or other. It can't be our Mattie. _She_wouldn't never have such a blazin' old parient as that.

  _Jack_. Supposin' it was your Mattie, Bill, would you split, and letScull-and-cross-bones nab her?

  _Bill_. Would I? Would I 'and over our Mattie to her natural enemy?Did you ax it, Jack?

  _Jack_. Natural enemy! My eye, Bill! what words you fakes!

  _Bill_. Ain't he her natural enemy, then? Ain't it yer father as bumpsyer 'ed, an' cusses ye, an' lets ye see him eat? Afore he gets ourMattie, I'll bite!

  _Tho._ Poor lad! poor lad! Dunnot say that! Her feyther's th' bestfreen' hoo's getten. Th' moor's th' pity, for it's not mich he can dofor her. But he would dee for her--he would.

  _Boys (all together)_. Go along, Daddy-devil! Pick yer own bones, an'ha' done.

  Bag-raker! Skin-cat! Bag o' nails! Scull-an'-cross-bones!

  Old Daddy Longlegs wouldn't say his prayers-- Take him by his left leg, and throw him downstairs.
r />   Go along! Go to hell! _We_'ll skin you. Melt ye down for taller, we will. Only he 'ain't got none, the red herrin'!

  _They throw things at him. He sits down on the door-step, and covers his head with his arms. Enter_ COL. G. _Boys run off_.

  _Tho._ Oh, mo Mattie! mo Mattie!

  _Col. G._ Poor old fellow! Are you hurt?

  _Tho._ Eh! _yo_ be a followin' ov mo too!

  _Col. G._ What are you doing here?

  _Tho._ What am aw doin' yere! Thee knows well enough what aw're adoin' yere. It 're o' thy fau't, mon.

  _Col. G._ Why, you've got a blow! Your head is cut! Poor old fellow!

  _Tho._ Never yo mind mo yed.

  _Col. G._ You must go home.

  _Tho._ Goo whoam, says to! Aw goo no-wheers but to th' grave afooraw've feawnd mo chylt.

  _Col. G._ Come along with me; I will do all I can to find her. PerhapsI can help you after all.

  _Tho._ Aw mak nea deawbt o' that, mon. And thae seems a gradely chap.Aw'm a'most spent. An' aw'm sick, sick! Dunnot let th' boys shove moabeawt again.

  _Col. G._ I will not. They shan't come near you. Take my arm. Poor oldfellow! If you would but trust me! Hey! Cab there!

  _Exeunt_.

  _Enter_ SUSAN, _peeping_.

  _Sus_. I wonder whatever's come to Mattie! It's long time she was outagain.

  _Enter_ MATTIE, _hurriedly_.

  _Mat_. Oh, Susan! Susan! (_Falls_.)

  _Sus_. Mattie! Mattie! (_Kneels beside her, and undoes her bonnet_.)

  _Enter_ POLICEMAN.

  _Pol_. What ails her? (_Goes to lift her_.)

  _Sus_. Leave her alone, will you? Let her head down. Get some water.

  _Pol_. Drunk--is she?

  _Sus_. Hold your tongue, you brute! If she'd a satin frock on, i'steado' this here poor cotton gownd, you'd ha' showed her t'other side o'your manners! Get away with you. You're too ugly to look at.--Mattie!Mattie! Look up, child.

  _Pol_. She mustn't lie there.

  _Mat_. Susan!

  _Pol_. Come, my girl.

  _Sus_. You keep off, I tell you! Don't touch her. She's none o' yoursort. Come, Mattie, dear.--Why don't you make 'em move on?

  _Pol_. You'd better keep a civil tongue in your head, young woman.

  _Sus_. You live lobster!

  _Pol_. I'll have to lock you up, I see. One violent. T'otherincapable.

  _Sus_. You're another. Mattie, my dear, come along home.

  _Pol_. That's right; be off with you.

  MATTIE _rises_.

  _Mat_. Let's go. Sue! Let's get farther off.

  _Sus_. You can't walk, child. If I hadn't been so short o' wittles fora week, I could ha' carried you. But it's only a step to thecook-shop.

  _Mat_. No money, Sue. (_Tries to walk_.)

  _Sus_. O Lord! What _shall_ I do! And that blue-bottle there a buzzin'an' a starin' at us like a dead codfish!--Boh!

  _Enter_ BILL.

  _Bill_. Our Mattie! Gracious! what's the row, Susan?

  _Sus_. She ain't well. Take her other arm, Bill, and help her out o'this. We ain't in no Christian country. Pluck up, Mattie, dear.

  _Bill_. Come into the tart-shop. I'm a customer.

  _They go towards the shop. Exit_ POLICEMAN.

  _Mat_. No, no, Sukey! I can't abide the smell of it. Let me sit on thekerb for a minute. (_Sits down_.) Oh, father! father!

  _Bill_. Never you mind, Mattie! If he wor twenty fathers, he shan'tcome near ye.

  _Mat_. Oh, Bill! if you could find him for me! He would take me home.

  _Bill_. Now who'd ha' thought o' that? Axially wantin' her own father!I'd run far enough out o' the way o' mine--an' farther if he wura-axin' arter me.

  _Mat_. Oh me! my side!

  _Sus_. It's hunger, poor dear! (_Sits down beside her_.)

  _Bill_ (_aside_). This won't do, Bill! I'm a shamed o' _you_, Bill!_Exit_.

  _Mat_. No, Susan, it's not hunger. It's the old story, Sue.

  _Sus_. Mattie! I never! You don't mean to go for to tell me you're abreakin' of your precious heart about _him_? It's not your gentlemansure_ly_! It's not _him_ ye're turnin' sick about, this time o' day?

  MATTIE _nods her head listlessly_.

  _Sus_. What's up fresh, then? You was pretty bobbish when you left me.It's little he thinks of _you_, I'll be bound.

  _Mat_. That's true enough. It's little he ever thought of me. He _did_say he loved me, though. It's fifty times he did!

  _Sus_. Lies, lies, Mattie--all lies!

  _Mat_. No, Susan; it wasn't lies. He meant it--at the time. That'swhat made it look all right. Oh dear! Oh dear!

  _Sus_. But what's come to you now, Mattie? What's fresh in it? You'renot turned like this all at once for nothink!

  _Mat_. I've seen him!

  _Sus_. Seen him! Oh, my! I wish it had been me. _I_'d ha' seen him!I'd ha' torn his ugly eyes out.

  _Mat_. They ain't ugly eyes. They're big and blue, and they sparkle sowhen he talks to her!

  _Sus_. And who's _her_? Ye didn't mention a _her_. Some brazen-facedimperence!

  _Mat_. No. The young lady at Mrs. Clifford's.

  _Sus_. Oho! See if I do a stitch for her!--Shan't I leave a needle in_her_ shimmy, just!

  _Mat_. What _shall_ I do! All the good's gone out of me! And such apain here!

  _Sus_. Keep in yer breath a minute, an' push yer ribs out. It's one on'em's got a top o' the other.

  _Mat_. Such a grand creature! And her colour coming and going like theshadows on the corn! It's no wonder he forgot poor me. But it'll burnitself out afore long.

  _Sus_. Don't ye talk like that, Mattie; I can't abear it.

  _Mat_. If I was dressed like her, though, and could get my colourback! But laws! I'm such a washed out piece o' goods beside her!

  _Sus_. That's as I say, Matilda! It's the dress makes the differ.

  _Mat_. No, Susan, it ain't. It's the free look of them--and the headup--and the white hands--and the taper fingers. They're stronger thanus, and they're that trained like, that all their body goes in one,like the music at a concert. _I_ couldn't pick up a needle withoutgoing down on my knees after it. It's the pain in my side, Sue.--Yes,it's a fine thing to be born a lady. It's _not_ the clothes, Sue. Ifwe was dressed ever so, we couldn't come near them. It's that look,--Idon't know what.

  _Sus_. Speak for yerself, Mattie; _I_'m not a goin' to think suchsmall beer of _my_self, _I_ can tell you! I believe if I'd been tookin time--

  _Mat_. It's a big _if_ that though, Sue.--And then she looked _so_ good!You'd hardly think it of me,--perhaps it's because I'm dying--but forone minute I could ha' kissed her very shoes. Oh, my side!

  _Sus_. (_putting her arm tight round her waist_). Does that help itMattie, dear?--a little teeny bit?

  _Mat_. Yes, Sukey. It holds it together a bit. Will he break her hearttoo, I wonder?

  _Sus_. No fear o' that! Ladies takes care o' theirselves. They'rebrought up to it.

  _Mat_. It's only poor girls gentlemen don't mind hurting, I suppose.

  _Sus_. It's the ladies' fathers and brothers, Mattie! We've got nobodyto look after us.

  _Mat_. They may break their hearts, though, for all that.

  _Sus_. They won't forgive them like you, then, Mattie!

  _Mat_. I dare say they're much the same as we are when it comes tothat, Sue.

  _Sus_. Don't say _me_, Mattie. _I_ wouldn't forgive him--no, not ifI was to die for it. But what came of it, child?

  _Mat_. I made some noise, I suppose, and the lady started.

  _Sus_. And then you up and spoke?

  _Mat_. I turned sick, and fell down.

  _Sus_. Poor dear!

  _Mat_. She got me a glass of wine, but I couldn't swallow it, and gotup and crawled out.

  _Sus_. Did he see you?

  _Mat_. I think he did.

  _Sus_. You'll tell her, in course?

  _Mat_. No, Sue; he'd hate me, and I couldn't bear that. Oh me! myside! It's so bad!

&nb
sp; _Sus_. Let's try for home, Mattie. It's a long way, and there'snothing to eat when you're there; but you can lie down, and that'severything to them as can't sit up.

  _Mat_. (_rising_). I keep fancying I'm going to meet my father.

  _Sus_. Let's fancy it then every turn all the way home, an' that'llget us along. There, take my arm. There!--Come along. _Exeunt_.

  _Slow music. Twilight_.

  _Enter_ BILL _with a three-legged stool, brushes, etc._

  _Bill_. Come! it's blackin' all over! When gents can't no longer seetheir boots, 'tain't much use offerin' to shine 'em. But if I can geta penny, I will. I _must_ take a tart to Mattie, or this here damagedone (_laying his hand on his stomach_) won't go to sleep this night.

  _Enter_ WATERFIELD.

  _Bill_. Black your boots for a party, sir?

  _Wat_. (_aside_) The very rascal I saw her speaking to! But wasn't shea brick not to split! That's what I call devotion now! There _are_some of them capable of it. I'll set her up for life. I'd give a coolthousand it hadn't happened, though. I saw her father too hangingabout Gervaise's yesterday.

  _Bill_. Clean your boots, sir? Shine 'em till they grin like aCheshire cat eatin' cheese!

  _Wat_. Shine away, you beggar.

  _Bill_ (_turning up his trousers_). I ain't no beggar, sir. Shine fora shiner's fair play.

  _Wat_. Do you live in this neighbourhood?

  _Bill_. No, sir.

  _Wat_. Where, then?

  _Bill_ (_feeling where a pocket should be_). I don't appear to 'ave acard about me, sir, but my address is Lamb's Court, CamomileStreet--leastways I do my sleepin' not far off of it. I've livedthere, what livin' I _have_ done, sin' ever I wor anywheres as I knowson.

  _Wat_. Do you happen to know a girl of the name of Pearson?

  _Bill_. No, sir. I can't say as how I rec'lect the name. Is she a oldgirl or a young un?

  _Wat_. You young liar! I saw you talking to her not two hours ago!

  _Bill_. Did ye now, sir? That's odd, ain't it? Bless you! I talks toeverybody. I ain't proud, sir.

  _Wat_. Well, do you see this? (_holding up a sovereign_).

  _Bill_. That's one o' them tilings what don't require much seein',sir. There! Bright as a butterfly! T'other twin, sir!

  _Wat_. I'll give you this, if you'll do something for me--and anotherto that when the thing's done.

  _Bill_. 'Tain't stealin', sir?

  _Wat_. No.

  _Bill_. Cos, you see, Mattie--

  _Wat_. Who did you say?

  _Bill_. Old Madge as lets the beds at tuppence a short night. 'Tain'tstealin', you say, sir?

  _Wat_. What do you take me for? I want you to find out for me wherethe girl Pearson lives--that's all.

  _Bill_ (_snatching the sovereign and putting it in his mouth_). Nowthen, sir!--What's the young woman like?

  _Wat_. Rather tall--thin--dark hair--large dark eyes--and long whitehands. Her name's Matilda--Mattie Pearson--the girl you were talkingto, I tell you, on this very spot an hour or two ago.

  _Bill_ (_dropping the sovereign, and stooping to find it_). Golly! it_is_ our Mattie!

  _Wat_. Shall you know her again?

  _Bill_. Any boy as wasn't a hass would know his own grandmother bythem spots. Besides, I remember sich a gal addressin' of me thismornin'. If you say her it was, I'll detect her for ye.

  _Wat_. There's a good boy! What's your name?

  _Bill_. Timothy, sir.

  _Wat_. What else?

  _Bill_. Never had no other--leastways as I knows on.

  _Wat_. Well, Timothy--there's the other sov.--and it's yours themoment you take me to her. Look at it.

  _Bill_. My eye!--Is she a square Moll, sir?

  _Wat_. What do you mean by that?

  _Bill_. Green you are, to be sure!--She ain't one as steals, or--

  _Wat_. Not she. She's a sempstress--a needlewoman, or something of thesort.

  _Bill_. And where shall I find _you_, sir?

  _Wat_. Let me see:--to-morrow night--on the steps of St. Martin'sChurch--ten o'clock.

  _Bill_. But if I don't find her? It may be a week--or a month--or--

  _Wat_. Come whether you find her or not, and let me know.

  _Bill_. All serene, sir! There you are, sir! Brush your trousers, sir?

  _Wat_. No; leave 'em.--Don't forget now.

  _Bill_. Honour bright, sir! Not if I knows it, sir!

  _Wat_. There's that other skid, you know.

  _Bill_. All right, sir! Anything more, sir?

  _Wat_. Damn your impudence! Get along.

  _Exit_. BILL _watches him into_ MRS. CLIFFORD'S.

  _Bill_. Now by all the 'ungry gums of Arabiar, 'ere's a swell arterour Mattie!--A right rig'lar swell! I knows 'em--soverings an' redsocks. What's come to our Mattie? 'Ere's Daddy Longlegs arter her,vith his penny and his blessin'! an' 'ere's this 'ere mighty swellvith his soverings--an' his red socks! An' she's 'ungry, poorgal!--This 'ere yellow-boy?--I 'ain't got no faith in swells--no more'n in Daddy Longlegses--I 'ain't!--S'posin' he wants to marryher?--Not if I knows it. He ain't half good 'nough for _her_. Too manyquids--goin' a flingin' on 'em about like buttons! He's been acrackin' o' cribs--_he_ has. I ain't a goin' to interduce our Mattieto no sich blokes as him. No fathers or lovyers for me--says I!--Butthis here pebble o' Paradise!--What's to be done wi' the cherub? Ican't tell _her_ a lie about it, an' who'll break it up for a covelike me, lookin' jes' as if I'd been an' tarred myself and crep'through a rag-bag! They'd jug me. An' what 'ud Mattie say then? I wishI 'adn't 'a' touched it. I'm blowed if I don't toss it over abridge!--Then the gent 'ain't got the weight on his dunop out o' me. OLord! what _shall_ I do with it? I wish I'd skied it in his face! Idon't believe it's a good un; I don't! (_Bites it_.) It do taste werynasty. It's nothin' better 'n a gilt fardin'! Jes' what a cove mightlook for from sich a swell! (_Goes to a street lamp and examines it_.)Lor! there's a bobby! (_Exit. Re-enter to the lamp_.) I wish thegen'leman 'ad guv me a penny. I can't do nothin' wi' this 'ere quid.Vere am I to put it? I 'ain't got no pocket, an' if I was to stow itin my 'tato-trap, I couldn't wag my red rag--an' Mother Madge 'ud soonhave me by the chops. Nor I've got noveres to plant it.--O Lor! it'sall I've got, an' Madge lets nobody go to bed without the tuppence.It's all up with Bill--_for_ the night!--Where's the odds!--there's afirst-class hotel by the river--The Adelphi Arches, they callsit--where they'll take me in fast enough, and I can go to sleep withit in my cheek. Coves is past talkin' to you there. Nobody as sees mein that 'ere 'aunt of luxury, 'ill take me for a millionaire vith askid in his mouth. 'Tain't a bit cold to-night neither (_going_).--Vydo they say a _aunt_ of luxury? I s'pose acause she's wife to myuncle. _Exit_.

  _Slow music. The night passes. A policeman crosses twice_. THOMAS _crosses between. Dawn_.

  _Re-enter_ BILL.

  _Bill_. I'm hanged if this here blasted quid ain't a burnin' of melike a red-hot fardin'! I'm blest if I've slep' more 'n half thenight. I woke up oncet, with it a slippin' down red lane. I wish I hadswallered it. Then nobody 'd 'a' ast me vere I got it. I don't wonderas rich coves turn out sich a bad lot. I believe the devil's in this'ere!

  _Knocks at_ MRS. CLIFFORD'S door. JAMES _opens. Is shutting it again_. BILL _shoves in his stool_.

  _Bill_. Hillo, Blazes! where's your manners? Is that the way youbehaves to callers on your gov'nor's business?

  _James (half opening the door_). Get about your own business, youimperent boy!

  _Bill_. I'm about it now, young man. I wants to see your gov'nor.

  _James_. _You_'ve got business with _him_, have you, eh?

  _Bill_. Amazin' precoxity! You've hit it! I _have_ got business with _him_,Door-post--not in the wery smallest with _you_, Door-post!--essep' theknife-boy's been and neglected of your feet-bags this mornin'. (JAMES_would slam the door_. BILL _shoves in his stool_.) Don't you try that'ere little game again, young man! for if I loses my temper and takesto hollerin', you'll wish yourself farther.

  _James_. A humbug you are!
I 'ain't got no gov'nor, boy. The master asbelongs to me is a mis'ess.

  _Bill_. Then that 'ere gen'lemen as comes an' goes, ain't yourmaster--eh?

  _James_. What gen'leman, stoopid?

  _Bill_. Oh! it don't matter.

  _James_. What _have--you--got_ to say to _him_?

  _Bill_. Some'at pickled: it'll keep.

  _James_. I'll give him a message, if you like.

  _Bill_. Well, you may tell him the bargain's hoff, and if he wants hismoney, it's a waitin' of him round the corner.

  _James_. You little blackguard! Do you suppose a gen'leman's a goin'to deliver sich a message as that! Be off, you himp! (_Makes a dart athim_.)

  _Bill_ (_dodging him_). How d'e do, Clumsy? Don't touch me; I ain'tnice. Why, what was you made for, Parrot? Is them calves your ownrearin' now? Is that a quid or a fardin? Have a shot, now, Shins.

  _James_. None o' your imperence, young blackie! 'And me over themoney, and I'll give it to the gen'leman.

  _Bill_. Do you see anything peticlar green in my eye, Rainbow?

  JAMES _makes a rush_. BILL _gets down before him_. JAMES _tumbles over him_. BILL _blacks his face with his brush_.

  _Bill_ (_running a little way_). Ha! ha! ha! Bill Shoeblack--his mark!Who's blackie now? You owes me a penny--twopence--'twor sich a uglyjob! Ain't shiny? I'll come back and shine ye for another penny. Goodmornin', Jim Crow! Take my adwice, and don't on no account apply yourwinegar afore you've opened your hoyster. Likeways: Butter don't melton a cold tater. _Exit_.

  _Exit_ JAMES _into the house, banging the door_.

  _Enter_ WATERFIELD, _followed by BILL_.

  _Bill_. Please, sir, I been a watchin' for you.

  _Wat_. Go to the devil!

  _Bill_. I'd rayther not. So there's your suv'ring!

  _Wat_. Go along. Meet me where I told you.

  _Bill_. I won't. There's yer skid.

  _Wat_. Be off, or I'll give you in charge. Hey! Policeman! _Exit_.

  _Bill_. Well, I'm blowed! This quid '11 be the hangin' o' me! _Damnyou_! (_Throws it fiercely on the ground and stamps on it_.) Servesme right for chaffin' the old un! He didn't look a bad sort--_for_a gov'nor.--Now I reflexes, I heerd Mattie spoony on some father orother, afore. O Lord! I'll get Jim and Jack to help me look out forhim. (_Enter_ THOMAS.) Lor' ha' mussy!--talk o' the old un!--I'm werypeticlar glad as I found you, daddy. I been a lookin' for ye--leastwaysI was a goin' to look for ye this wery moment as you turns up. I chaffedyou like a zorologicle monkey yesterday, daddy, an' I'm wery sorry. Butyou see fathers ain't nice i' this 'ere part o' the continent. (_Enter_JAMES, _in plain clothes, watching them_.) They ain't no good nohow tonobody. If _I_ wos a husband and a father, I don't know as how I shouldbe A One, myself. P'r'aps I might think it wur my turn to break arms andlegs. I knowed more 'n one father as did. It's no wonder the boys is aplaguy lot, daddy.

  _Tho._ Goo away, boy. Dosto yer, aw've seen so mich wickedness sin' awcoom to Lon'on, that aw dunnot knaw whether to breighk thi yed, or togoo wi' tho? There be thieves and there be robbers.

  _Bill_. Never fear, daddy. You ain't worth robbin' of, I don't think.

  _Tho._ How dosto knaw that? Aw've moore 'n I want to lose abeawt mo.

  _Bill_. Then Mattie 'ill have som'at to eat--will she, daddy?

  _Tho._ Som'at to eight, boy! Be mo Mattie hungry--dun yo think?

  _Bill_. Many and many's the time, daddy.

  _Tho._ Yigh--afore her dinner!

  _Bill_. And after it too, daddy.

  _Tho._ O Lord!--And what does hoo do when hoo 's hungry?

  _Bill_. Grins and bears it. Come and see her, daddy?

  _Tho._ O Lord! Mo Mattie, an' nothin' to eight! Goo on, boy. Aw'm beawnto follow yo. Tak mo wheer yo like. Aw'll goo.

  _Bill_. Come along then, daddy.

  _James (collaring him_). Hullo, young un! You're the rascal as stole thesuvering: _I_ saw you!

  _Bill_. Dunno what you're up to. I never stole nothink.

  _James_. Oh no! of course not! What's that in yer fist now? (_Catches_BILL'S _hand, and forces it open_.) There!

  BILL _drops his stool on_ JAMES'S _foot, throws up the coin, catches it with his other hand, and puts it in his mouth_.

  _Tho._ Theighur! Theighur! The like ov that! Aw're agooin wi' athief--aw wur!

  _Bill_. Never you mind, daddy. It wur guv to me.

  _James_. That's what they allus says, sir.--You come along.--I'd beobliged to you, sir, if you would come too, and say you saw him.

  _Tho._ Nay! aw connot say aw seigh him steyle it.

  _James_. You saw it in his hand.

  _Tho._ Yigh! aw did.

  _Bill_. It wis guv to me, I tell ye.

  _James_. Honest boy, this one! Looks like it, don't he, sir? What do youthink of yourself, you young devil, a decoying of a grey-haired oldgen'leman like this? Why, sir, him an' his pals 'ud ha' taken everypenny you had about you! Murdered you, they might--I've knowed as much.It's a good thing I 'appened on the spot.--Come along, you bad boy!

  _Bill_. I didn't, take it. And I won't go.

  _James_. Come along. They'll change it for you at the lock-up.

  _Bill_. You didn't see me steal it! You ain't never a goin' to gi' me incharge?

  _James_. Wrong again, young un! That's? percisely what I am a goin' todo!

  _Bill_. Oh, sir! please, sir! I'm a honest boy. It's the Bible-truth.I'll kiss twenty books on it.

  _James_. I won't ax you.--Why, sir, he ain't even one o' theshoe-brigade. He 'ain't got a red coat. Bless my soul! he 'ain't evengot a box--nothin' but a scrubby pair o' brushes as I'm alive! He ain'tno shoeblack. He's a thief as purtends to black shoes, and pickspockets.

  _Bill_. You're a liar! I never picked a pocket, in my life.

  _James_. Bad language, you see! What more would you have?

  _Tho._ Who'd iver lia' thowt o' sich wickedness in a boy like that!

  _Bill_. I ain't a wicked boy, no. Nay, doan't thae tell mo that! Thaemade gam of mo, and hurried and scurried mo, as iv aw'd been a mak ov adeevil--yo did.

  _James_. He's one of the worst boys I know. This Timothy is one of thevery worst boys in all London.

  _Bill (aside_). Timothy, eh? I twigs! It's Rainbow, by Peter andPaul!--Look y'e here, old gen'leman! This 'ere's a bad cove as is takin'adwantage o' your woolliness. _I_ knows him. His master guv me thesuvering. He guv it to me to tell him where your Mattie was.

  _James_. Don't you fancy you're g' in' to take in an experienced oldgen'leman like that with your cock-and-bull stories! Come along, I say.Hey! Police!

  _Bill_. Here you are! _(Takes the coin from his mouth, rubs it dry onhis jacket, and offers it._) I don't want it. Give it to old Hunxthere.--He shan't never see his Mattie! I wur right to chivy him, arterall.

  _James (taking the coin_). Now look here, Timothy. I'm a detectivehofficer. But I won't never be hard on no buy as wants to make a honestlivin'. So you be hoff! I'll show the old gen'leman where he wants togo to.

  BILL _moves two paces, and takes a sight at him_.

  _Tho._ The Lord be praised! Dosto know eawr Mattie then?

  _James_. It's the dooty of a detective hofficer to know every girl inhis beat.

  _Bill_. My eye! there's a oner!

  _Tho._ Tak mo to her, sir, an' aw'll pray for yo.

  _James_. I will.--If I cotch you nearer than Mile End, I'll give you incharge at oncet.

  _Bill (bolting five yards_). He's a humbug, daddy! but he'll serve youright. He'll melt you down for taller. He ain't no 'tective. I know him.

  _Tho._ Goo away.

  _Bill_. Good-bye, daddy! He don't know your Mattie. Good-bye,skelington! _Exit_.

  _Tho._ Eh! sech a boy!

  _James_. Let me see. You want a girl of the name of Mattie?

  _Tho._ Aw do, sir.

  _James_. The name is not an oncommon one. There's Mattie Kent?

  _Tho._ Nay; it's noan o' her.

  _James_. Then there's Mattie Winchfield?

  _Tho._ Nay; it
's noan o' her.

  _James_. Then there's Mattie Pearson?

  _Tho._ Yigh, that's hoo! That's hoo! Wheer? Wheer?

  _James_. Well, it's too far for a man of your age to walk. But I'll calla cab, and we'll go comfortable.

  _Tho._ But aw connot affoord to peigh for a cab--as yo co it.

  _James_. You don't suppose I'm a goin' to put an honest man like you toexpense!

  _Tho._ It's but raysonable I should peigh. But thae knows best.

  _James_. Hey! Cab there! _Exeunt_.

  _Re-enter_ BILL, _following them_.

  _Bill_. I'll have an eye of him, though. The swell as give me theyellow-boy--he's his master! Poor old codger! He'll believe any covebut the one as tells him the truth!

  _Exit_.

  _Enter from the house_ MRS. CLIFFORD. _Enter from opposite side_ COL. G.

  _Col. G._ I was just coming to see you, Clara.

  _Mrs. C._ And I was going to see you. How's Arthur to-day? I thought youwould have come yesterday.

  _Col. G._ My poor boy is as dependent on me as if I were _not_ hisfather. I am very anxious about him. The fever keeps returning.

  _Mrs. C._ Fortune seems to have favoured your mad scheme, Walter.

  _Col. G._ Or something better than fortune.

  _Mrs. C._ You have had rare and ample opportunity. You may end the farcewhen you please, and in triumph.

  _Col. G._ On the contrary, Clara, it would be nothing but an anticlimaxto end what you are pleased to call _the farce_ now. As if I could makea merit of nursing my own boy! I did more for my black servant. I wish Ihad him here.

  _Mrs. C._ You would like to double the watch--would you?

  _Col. G._ Something has vexed you, Clara.

  _Mrs. C._ I never liked the scheme, and I like it less every day.

  _Col. G._ I have had no chance yet. He has been ill all the time. I wishyou would come and see him a little oftener.

  _Mrs. C._ He doesn't want me. You are everything now. Besides, I can'tcome alone.

  _Col G._ Why not?

  _Mrs. C._ Constance would fancy I did not want to take her.

  _Col. G._ Then why not take her?

  _Mrs. C._ I have my reasons.

  _Col. G._ What are they?

  _Mrs. C._ Never mind.

  _Col. G._ I insist upon knowing them.

  _Mrs. C._ It would break my heart, Walter, to quarrel with you, but I_will_ if you use such an expression.

  _Col. G._ But why shouldn't you bring Miss Lacordere with you?

  _Mrs. C._ He's but a boy, and it might put some nonsense in his head.

  _Col. G._ She's a fine girl. You make a friend of her.

  _Mrs. C._ She's a good girl, and a lady-like girl; but I don't want tomeddle with the bulwarks of society. I hope to goodness they will last_my_ time.

  _Col. G._ Clara, I begin to doubt whether pride _be_ a Christian virtue.

  _Mrs. C._ I see! You'll be a radical before long. _Every_thing is goingthat way.

  _Col. G._ I don't care what I am, so I do what's right. I'm sick of allthat kind of thing. What I want is bare honesty. I believe I'm a tory asyet, but I should be a radical to-morrow if I thought justice lay onthat side.--If a man falls in love with a woman, why shouldn't he marryher?

  _Mrs. C._ She may be unfit for him.

  _Col. G._ How should he fall in love with her, then? Men don't fall inlove with birds.

  _Mrs. C._ It's a risk--a great risk.

  _Col. G._ None the greater that he pleases himself, and all the moreworth taking. I wish my poor boy--

  _Mrs. C._ Your poor boy might please himself and yet not succeed inpleasing you, brother!

  _Col. G. (aside_). She _knows_ something.--I must go and see about hisdinner. Good-bye, sister.

  _Mrs. C._ Good-bye, then. You will have your own way!

  _Col. G._ This once, Clara. _Exeunt severally_.

  END OF ACT II.