ACT III.
SCENE.--_A garret-room_. MATTIE. SUSAN.
_Mat_. At the worst we've got to die some day, Sue, and I don't know buthunger may be as easy a way as another.
_Sus_. I'd rather have a choice, though. And it's not hunger I wouldchoose.
_Mat_. There are worse ways.
_Sus_. Never mind: we don't seem likely to be bothered wi' choosin'.
_Mat_. There's that button-hole done. (_Lays down her work with asigh, and leans back in her chair_.)
_Sus_. I'll take it to old Nathan. It'll be a chop a-piece. It'swonderful what a chop can do to hearten you up.
_Mat_. I don't think we ought to buy chops, dear. We must be contentwith bread, I think.
_Sus_. Bread, indeed!
_Mat_. Well, it's something to eat.
_Sus_. Do you call it eatin' when you see a dog polishin' a bone?
_Mat_. Bread's very good with a cup of tea.
_Sus_. Tea, indeed! Fawn-colour, trimmed with sky-blue!--If you'dmentioned lobster-salad and sherry, now!
_Mat_. I never tasted lobster-salad.
_Sus_. I have, though; and I do call lobster-salad good. You don't careabout your wittles: _I_ do. When I'm hungry, I'm not at all comfortable.
_Mat_. Poor dear Sue! There is a crust in the cupboard.
_Sus_. I _can't_ eat crusts. I want summat nice. I ain't dyin' of'unger. It's only I'm peckish. _Very_ peckish, though. I could eat--letme see what I _could_ eat:--I could eat a lobster-salad, and two dozenoysters, and a lump of cake, and a wing and a leg of a chicken--if itwas a spring chicken, with watercreases round it--and a Bath-bun, and asandwich; and in fact I don't know what I couldn't eat, except just thatcrust in the cupboard. And I do believe I could drink a whole bottle ofchampagne.
_Mat_. I don't know what one of those things tastes like--scarce one;and I don't believe you do either.
_Sus_. Don't I?--I never did taste champagne, but I've seen them eatinglobster-salad many a time;--girls not half so good-lookin' as you or me,Mattie, and fine gentlemen a waitin' upon 'em. Oh dear! I _am_ sohungry! Think of having your supper with a real gentleman as talks toyou as if you was fit to talk to--not like them Jew-tailors, as tossesyour work about as if it dirtied their fingers--and them none so cleanfor all their fine rings!
_Mat_. I saw Nathan's Joseph in a pastrycook's last Saturday, and a verypretty girl with him, poor thing!
_Sus_. Oh the hussy to let that beast pay for her!
_Mat_. I suppose she was hungry.
_Sus_. I'd die before I let a snob like that treat _me_. No, Mattie! Ispoke of a _real_ gentleman.
_Mat_. Are you sure you wouldn't take Nathan's Joseph for a gentleman ifhe was civil to you?
_Sus_. Thank you, miss! I know a sham from a real gentleman the moment Iset eyes on him.
_Mat_. What do you mean by a real gentleman, Susan?
_Sus_. A gentleman as makes a lady of his girl.
_Mat_. But what sort of lady, Sue? The poor girl may fancy herself alady, but only till she's left in the dirt. That sort of gentleman makesfine speeches to your face, and calls you horrid names behind your back.Sue, dear, don't have a word to say to one of them--if he speaks ever sosoft.
_Sus_. Lawks, Mattie! they ain't all one sort.
_Mat_. You won't have more than one sort to choose from. They may berough or civil, good-natured or bad, but they're all the same in this,that not one of them cares a pin more for you than if you was ahorse--no--nor half a quarter so much. Don't for God's sake have a wordto say to one of them. If I die, Susan--
_Sus_. If you do, Matilda--if you go and do that thing, I'll take togin--that's what I'll do. Don't say I didn't act fair, and tell youbeforehand.
_Mat_. How can I help dying, Susan?
_Sus_. I say, Don't do it, Mattie. We'll fall out, if you do. Don't doit, Matilda--La! there's that lumping Bill again--_al_ways a comin' upthe stair when you don't want him!
_Enter_ BILL.
_Mat_. Well, Bill, how have you been getting on?
_Bill_. Pretty tollol, Mattie. But I can't go on so. (_Holds out hisstool_.) It ain't respectable.
_Mat_. What ain't respectable? Everything's respectable that's honest.
_Bill_. Why, who ever saw a respectable shiner goin' about with athree-legged stool for a blackin' box? It ain't the thing. The rig'larschaffs me fit to throw it at their 'eads, they does--only there's toomany on 'em, an' I've got to dror it mild. A box I must have, or afeller's ockypation's gone. Look ye here! One bob, one tanner, and ajoey! There! that's what comes of never condescending to an 'a'penny.
_Sus_. Bless us! what mighty fine words we've got a waitin' on us!
_Bill_. If I 'ave a weakness, Miss Susan, it's for the right word inthe right place--as the coster said to the devil-dodger as blowed himup for purfane swearin'.--When a gen'leman hoffers me an 'a'penny, Iaxes him in the purlitest manner I can assume, to oblige me by givin'of it to the first beggar he may 'ave the good fort'n to meet. _Some_on 'em throws down the 'a'penny. Most on 'em makes it a penny.--But Isay, Mattie, you don't want nobody arter you--do you now?
_Mat_. I don't know what you mean by that, Bill.
_Bill_. You don't want a father--do you now? Do she, Susan?
_Sus_. We want no father a hectorin' here, Bill. You 'ain't seen oneabout, have you?
_Bill_. I seen a rig'lar swell arter Mattie, anyhow.
_Mat_. What do you mean, Bill? Bill. A rig'lar swell--I repeats it--aastin' arter a young woman by the name o' Mattie.
_Sus_. (_pulling him aside_). Hold your tongue, Bill! You'll kill her!You young viper! Hold your tongue, or I'll twist your neck. Don't yousee how white she is?
_Mat_. What was he like? Do tell me, Bill.
_Bill_. A long-legged rig'lar swell, with a gold chain, and a cane witha hivory 'andle.
_Sus_. He's a bad man, Bill, and Mattie can't abide him. If you tell himwhere she is, she'll never speak to you again.
_Mat_. Oh, Susan! what _shall_ I do? Don't bring him here, Bill. I shallhave to run away again; and I can't, for we owe a week's rent.
_Sus_. There, Bill!
_Bill_. Don't you be afeard, Mattie. He shan't touch you. Nor the oldone neither.
_Mat_. There wasn't an old man with him?--not an old man with a longstick?
_Bill_. Not with _him_. Daddy was on his own hook?
_Mat_. It must have been my father, Susan. (_Sinks back on her chair_.)
_Sus_. 'Tain't the least likely.--There, Bill! I always said you was nogood! You've killed her.
_Bill_. Mattie! Mattie! I didn't tell him where you was.
_Mat_. (_reviving_). Run and fetch him, Bill--there's a dear! Oh! howproud I've been! If mother did say a hard word, she didn't mean it--notfor long. Run, Bill, run and fetch him.
_Bill_. Mattie, I was a fetchin' of him, but he wouldn't trust me. Anddidn't he cut up crusty, and collar me tight! He's a game old cock--heis, Mattie.
_Mat_. (_getting up and pacing about the room_). Oh, Susan! my heart'llbreak. To think he's somewhere near and I can't get to him! Oh my side!_Don't_ you know where he is, Bill?
_Bill_. He's someveres about, and blow me if I don't, find him!--arespectable old party in a white pinny, an' 'peared as if he'd go on awalkin' till he walked hisself up staudin'. A scrumptious old party!
_Mat_. Had he a stick, Bill?
_Bill_. Yes--a knobby stick--leastways a stick wi' knobs all over it.
_Mat_. That's him, Susan!
_Bill_. I could swear to the stick. I was too near gittin' at the tasteon it not to know it again.
_Mat_. When was it you saw him, Bill?
_Bill_. Yesterday, Mattie--jest arter you give me the tart. I sawr himagain this mornin', but he wouldn't place no confidence in me.
_Mat_. Oh dear! Why didn't you come straight to me, Bill?
_Bill_. If I'd only ha' known as you wanted him! But that was sech a_un_likely thing! It's werry perwokin'! I uses my judgment, an' putsmy hoof in it! I _am_ sorry, Mattie. But I
didn't know no better(_crying_).
_Mat_. Don't cry, Bill. You'll find him for me yet--won't you?
_Bill_. I'm off this indentical minute. But you see--
_Sus_. There! there!--now you mizzle. _I_ don't want no fathershere--goodness knows; but the poor girl's took a fancy to hers, andshe'll die if she don't get him. Run now--there's a good boy! (_Exit_BILL.) You 'ain't forgotten who's a comin', Mattie?
_Mat_. No, indeed.
_Sus_. Well, I hope she'll be civil, or I'll just give her a bit of mymind.
_Mat_. Not enough to change hers, I'm afraid. That sort of thing neverdoes any good.
_Sus_. And am I to go a twiddlin' of my thumbs, and sayin' _yes, ma'am_,an' _no, ma'am_? Not if I knows it, Matilda!
_Mat_. You will only make her the more positive in her ill opinion ofus.
_Sus_. An' what's that to me?
_Mat_. Well, I don't like to be thought a thief. Besides, Mrs. Cliffordhas been kind to us.
_Sus_. She's paid us for work done; so has old Nathan.
_Mat_. Did old Nathan ever give you a glass of wine when you took homehis slops?
_Sus_. Oh! that don't cost much; and besides, she takes it out inkingdom-come.
_Mat_. You're unfair, Susan.
_Sus_. Well, it's little fairness I get.
_Mat_. And to set that right you're unfair yourself! What you callspeaking your mind, is as cheap, and as nasty, as the worst shoddy oldNathan ever got gobble-stitched into coats and trousers.
_Sus_. Very well, Miss Matilda! (_rising and snatching her bonnet_). Thesooner we part the better! You stick by your fine friends! I don't care_that_ for them! (_snapping her fingers_)--and you may tell 'em so! Ican make a livin' without them or you either. Goodness gracious knows itain't much of a livin' I've made sin' I come across _you_, Miss! _Exit_.
_Mat_ (_trying to rise_). Susan! Susan! (_Lays her head on the table_).
_A tap at the door, and enter_ MRS. CLIFFORD, _with_ JAMES _behind_. MATTIE _rises_.
_Mrs. C._ Wait on the landing, James.
_James_. Yes, ma'am.
_Exit_ JAMES, _leaving the door a little ajar_.
_Mrs. C._ Well, Miss Pearson! (_Mattie offers a chair_.) No, thank you.That person is still with you, I see!
_Mat_. Indeed, ma'am, she's an honest girl.
_Mrs. C._ She is a low creature, and capable of anything. I advise youto get rid of her.
_Mat_. Was she rude on the stair, ma'am?
_Mrs. C._ Rude! Vulgar--quite vulgar! Insulting!
_Mat_. I am very sorry. But, believe me, ma'am, she is an honest girl,and never pawned that work. It was done--every stitch of it; and theloss of the money is hard upon us too. Indeed, ma'am, she did lose theparcel.
_Mrs. C._ You have only her word for it. If you don't give _her_ up, Igive _you_ up.
_Mat_. I can't, ma'am. She might go into bad ways if I did.
_Mrs. C._ She can't well get into worse. Her language! You would do everso much better without her.
_Mat_. I daren't, ma'am. I should never get it off my conscience.
_Mrs. C._ Your conscience indeed! (_rising_). I wish you a good morning,Miss Pearson.--(_Sound of a blow, followed by scuffling_.)--What isthat? I fear I have got into an improper place.
SUSAN _bursts in_.
_Sus_. Yes, ma'am, and that you have! It's a _wery_ improper place forthe likes o' you, ma'am--as believes all sorts o' wicked things ofpeople as is poor. Who are you to bring your low flunkies a-listenin'at honest girls' doors! (_Turning to James in the doorway_.) Get out,will you? Let me catch you here again, and I'll mark you that the devilwouldn't know his own! You dirty Paul Pry--you! (_Falls on her knees toMattie_.) Mattie, you angel!
_Mat_. (_trying to make her get up_) Never mind. It's all right betweenyou and me, Susan.
_Mrs. C._ I see! I thought as much!
_Sus_. (_starting up_) As much as what, then, my lady? Oh, _I_ know youand your sort--well enough! We're the dirt under your feet--lucky if westick to your shoes! But this room's mine.
_Mrs. C._ That linen was mine, young woman, I believe.
_Sus_. An' it's for that miserable parcel you come a-talkin', an'abusin' as no lady ought to! How dare you look that angel in the facethere an' say she stole it--which you're not fit to lace her boots forher! There!
_Mat_. Susan! Susan! do be quiet.
_Sus_. It's all very well for the likes o' me (_courtesyingspitefully_)--which I'm no better'n I should be, and a great deal worse,if I'm on my oath to your ladyship--that's neither here nor there!--but_she's_ better'n a van-load o' sich ladies as you, pryin' into otherpeople's houses, with yer bibles, an' yer religion, an' yer flunkies!_I_ know ye! I _do_!
_Mat_. Don't, Susan.
_Sus_. Why don't ye go an' pay twopence a week to somebody to learn yegood manners? I been better brought up myself.
_Mrs. C._ I see I was wrong: I ought at once to have handed the matterover to the police.
_Sus_. The perlice, indeed!--You get out of this, ma'am, or I'll makeyou!--you and your cowardly man-pup there, as is afraid to look me inthe face through the crack o' the door! Get out, I say, withyour--_insolence_--that's your word!
_Exit_ MRS. CLIFFORD.
_Mat_. Susan! Susan! what is to become of us?
_Sus_. She daren't do it--the old scrooge! But just let her try it on!See if I don't show her up afore the magistrate! Mattie! I'll work myfingers to the bone for you. I would do worse, only you won't let me.I'll go to the court, and tell the magistrate you're a-dyin' of hunger,which it's as true as gospel.
_Mat_. They'd send me to the workhouse, Sukey.
_Sus_. There _must_ be some good people somewheres, Mattie.
_Mat_. Yes; if we could get at them. But we can live till we die, Sukey.
_Sus_. I'll go and list for a soldier, I will. Women ha' done it afore.It's quite respectable, so long as they don't find you out--and theyshouldn't me. There's ne'er a one o' the redcoats 'ill cut up rougher'n I shall--barrin' the beard, and _that_ don't go for much now-a-days.
_Mat_. And what should I do without you, Susan?
_Sus_. Do you care to have me, then?
_Mat_. That I do, indeed. But you shouldn't have talked like that toMrs. Clifford. Ladies ain't used to such words. They sound worse thanthey are--quite dreadful, to them. She don't know your kind heart as Ido. Besides, the _look_ of things is against us. Ain't it now? Sayyourself.
_Sus_. (_starting up_) I'll go and beg her pardon. I'll go direckly--Iwill. I swear I will. I can't abear her, but I'll do it. I believehunger has nigh drove me mad.
_Mat_. It takes all the madness out of me.--No, Susan; we must bear itnow. Come along. We can be miserable just as well working. There's yoursleeve. I'll thread your needle for you. Don't cry--there's a dear!
_Sus_. I _will_ cry. It's all I ever could do to my own mind, and it'sall as is left me. But if I could get my claws on that lovyer o' yours,I wouldn't cry then. He's at the bottom of it! I don't see myself what'sthe use of fallin' in love. One man's as much of a fool as another tome. But you must go to bed. You ain't fit. You'll be easier when you'vegot your frock off. There! Why, child, you're all of a tremble!--And nowonder, wi' nothing on her blessed body but her frock and her shimmy!
_Mat_. Don't take off my frock, Sue. I must get on with my work.
_Sus_. Lie down a bit, anyhow. I'll lie at your back, and you'll soon beas warm's a toast. (MAT. _lies down_.) O Lord! she's dead! Her heart'sstopped beatin'. (_Runs out of the room_.)
_A moment of silence. A tap at the door_.
CONSTANCE _peeps in, then enters, with a basket_.
_Con_. Miss Pearson!--She's asleep. (_Goes near_.) Good heavens!(_Lays her hand on her_.) No. (_Takes a bottle from her basket, findsa cup, and pours into it_.) Take this, Miss Pearson; it will do yougood. There now! You'll find something else in the basket.
_Mat_. I don't want anything. I had so nearly got away! Why did youbring me back?
_Con_. Life is good!
_Mat_. It is _not_ good. How dare you do it? Why keep a miserablecreature alive? Life ain't to us what it is to you. The grave is theonly place _we_ have any right to.
_Con_. If I could make your life worth something to you--
_Mat_. You make my life worth to me! You don't know what you're saying,miss. (_Sitting up_.)
_Con_. I think I do.
_Mat_. I will _not_ owe my life to you. I _could_ love you, though--yourhands are so white, and your look so brave. That's what comes of beingborn a lady. We never have a chance.
_Con_. Miss Pearson--Mattie, I would call you, if you wouldn't beoffended--
_Mat_. Me offended, miss!--I've not got life enough for it. I only wantmy father and my mother, and a long sleep.--If I had been born rich--
_Con_. You might have been miserable all the same. Listen, Mattie. Iwill tell you _my_ story--I was once as badly off as you--worse in someways--ran about the streets without shoes to my feet, and hardly a frockto cover me.
_Mat_. La, miss! you don't say so! It's not possible! Look at you!
_Con_. Indeed, I tell you the truth. I know what hunger is too--wellenough. My father was a silkweaver in Spitalfields. When he died, Ididn't know where to go. But a gentleman--
_Mat_. Oh! a gentleman!--(_Fiercely_.) Why couldn't you be content with_one_, then?
_Con_. I don't understand you.
_Mat_. I dare say not! There! take your basket. I'll die afore a morselpasses _my_ lips. There! Go away, miss.
_Con_. (_aside_). Poor girl! she is delirious. I must ask William tofetch a doctor. _Exit_.
_Mat_. I wish my hands were as white as hers.
_Enter_ SUSAN, _followed by_ COL. G. CONSTANCE _behind_.
_Sus_. Mattie! dear Mattie! this gentleman--don't be vexed--I couldn'thelp him bein' a gentleman; I was cryin' that bad, and I didn't see noone come up to me, and when he spoke to me, it made me jump, and Icouldn't help answerin' of him--he spoke so civil and soft like, andme nigh mad! I thought you was dead, Mattie. He says he'll see usrighted, Mattie.
_Col. G._ I'll do what I can, if you will tell me what's amiss.
_Sus_. Oh, everything's amiss--everything!--Who was that went out,Mattie--this minute--as we come in?
_Mat_. Miss Lacordere.
_Sus_. Her imperence! Well! I should die of shame if I was her.
_Mat_. She's an angel, Susan. There's her basket. I told her to takeit away, but she would leave it.
_Sus_. (_peeping into the basket_). Oh, my! Ain't this nice? You_must_ have a bit, Mattie.
_Mat_. Not one mouthful. You wouldn't have me, Susan!
_Sus_. _I_ ain't so peticlar (_eating a great mouthful_). You reallymust, Mattie. (_Goes on eating_.)
_Col. G._ Don't tease her. We'll get something for her presently. Anddon't you eat too much--all at once.
_Sus_. I think she'd like a chop, sir.--There's that boy, Bill,again!--Always when he ain't wanted!
_Enter_ BILL.
_Bill_ (_aside to Susan_). What's the row? What's that 'ere gent upto? I've been an' had enough o' gents. They're a bad lot. I been toomuch for one on 'em, though. I ha' run _him_ down.--And, Mattie, I'vefound the old gen'leman.
_Mat_. My father, Bill?
_Bill_. That's it percisely! Right as a trivet--he is!
_Mat_. Susan! take hold of me. My heart's going again.
_Bill_. Lord! what's up wi' Mattie? She do look dreadful.
_Sus_. You been an' upset her, you clumsy boy! Here--run and fetch asausage or two, and a--
_Col. G._ No, no! That will never do.
_Sus_. Them's for Bill and me, sir. I was a goin' on, sir.--And, Bill,a chop--a nice chop. But Lord! how are we to cook it, with never afryin'-pan, or a bit o' fire to set it on!
_Col. G._ You'd never think of doing a chop for an invalid in thefrying-pan?
_Sus_. Certainly not, sir--we 'ain't got one. Everything's up thespout an' over the top. Run, Bill. A bit of cold chicken, and twopints o' bottled stout. There's the money the gen'leman give me.--'T'ain't no Miss Lackodare's, Mattie.
_Bill_. I'll trouble no gen'leman to perwide for _my_ family--obleegedall the same, sir. Mattie never wos a dub at dewourin', but I'll gether some'at toothsome. I favours grub myself.
_Col. G._ I'll go with you, Bill. I want to talk to you.
_Bill_. Well, I 'ain't no objection--so be you wants to talk friendly,sir.
_Col. G._ Good night. I'll come and see you to-morrow.
_Sus_. God bless you, sir. You've saved both on our lives. I _was_ agoin' to drown myself, Mattie--I really was this time. Wasn't I, sir?
_Col. G._ Well, you looked like it--that is all I can say. You shalldo it next time--so far as I'm concerned.
_Sus_. I won't never no more again, sir--not if Mattie don't drive meto it.
_Con_. (_to_ COL. G.). Come back for me in a little while.
_Col. G._ Yes, miss. Come, Bill. _Exit_.
_Bill_. All right, sir. I'm a follerin', as the cat said to thepigeon. _Exit_.
_Sus_. I'll just go and get you a cup o' tea. Mrs. Jones's kettle'ssure to be a bilin'. That's what you would like.
_Exit_. _Constance steps aside, and Susan passes without seeing her_.
_Mat_. Oh! to be a baby again in my mother's arms! But it'll soon beover now.
CONSTANCE _comes forward_.
_Con_. I hope you're a little better now?
_Mat_. You're very kind, miss; and I beg your pardon for speaking toyou as I did.
_Con_. Don't say a word about it. You didn't quite know what you weresaying. I'm in trouble myself. I don't know how soon I may be worseoff than you.
_Mat_. Why, miss, I thought you were going to be married!
_Con_. No, I am not.
_Mat_. Why, miss, what's happened. He's never going to play _you_false--is he?
_Con_. I don't mean ever to speak to him again?
_Mat_. What has he done to offend you, miss?
_Con_. Nothing. Only I know now I don't like him. To tell you thetruth, Mattie, he's not a gentleman.
_Mat_. Not a gentleman, miss! How dare you say so?
_Con_. Do _you_ know anything about him? Did you ever see him?
_Mat_. Yes.
_Con_. Where?
_Mat_. Once at your house.
_Con_. Oh! I remember--that time! I begin to--It couldn't be at thesight of him you fainted, Mattie?--You knew him? Tell me! tell me!Make me sure of it.
_Mat_. To give you your revenge! No. It's a mean spite to say he ain'ta gentleman.
_Con_. Perhaps you and I have different ideas of what goes to make agentleman.
_Mat_. Very likely.
_Con_. Oh! don't be vexed, Mattie. I didn't mean to hurt you.
_Mat_. Oh! I dare say!
_Con_. If you talk to me like that, I must go.
_Mat_. I never asked you to come.
_Con_. Well, I did want to be friendly with you. I wouldn't hurt youfor the world.
_Mat_. (_bursting into tears_) I beg your pardon, miss. I'm behavinglike a brute. But you must forgive me; my heart is breaking.
_Con_. Poor dear! (_kissing her_) So is mine almost. Let us befriends. Where's Susan gone?
_Mat_. To fetch me a cup of tea. She'll be back directly.
_Con_. Don't let her say bad words: I can't bear them. I think it'sbecause I was so used to them once--in the streets, I mean--not athome--never at home.
_Mat_. She don't often, miss. She's a good-hearted creature. It's onlywhen hunger makes her cross. She don't like to be hungry.
_Con_. I should think not, poor girl!
_Mat_. Don't mind what she says, please. If you say nothing, she'llcome all right. When she's spoken her mind, she feels better. Here shecomes!
_Re-enter_ SUSAN. _It begins to grow dark_.
_Sus_. Well, and who have we got here?
_Mat_. Miss Lacordere, Sukey.
_Sus_. There's no lack o' dare about _her_, to come here!
_Mat_. It's very kind of h
er to come, Susan.
_Sus_. I tell you what, miss: that parcel was stole. It _was_ stole,miss!--stole from me--an' that angel there a dyin' in the street!
_Con_. I'm quite sure of it, Susan. I never thought anything else.
_Sus_. Not but I allow it was a pity, miss!--I'm very sorry. But,bless you! (_lighting a candle_)--with all _your_ fine clothes--! My!you look like a theayter-queen--you do, miss! If you was to send_them_ up the spout now!--My! what a lot they'd let you have on thatsilk!
_Con_. The shawl is worth a good deal, I believe. It's an Indianone--all needlework.
_Sus_. And the bee-utiful silk! Laws, miss! just shouldn't I like towear a frock like that! I _should_ be hard up before I pledged _that_!But the shawl! If I was you, miss, I would send 'most everything upbefore that!--things inside, you know, miss--where it don't matter somuch.
_Con_. (_laughing_) The shawl would be the first thing I should partwith. I would rather be nice inside than out.
_Sus_. Lawk, miss! I shouldn't wonder if that was one of the differsnow! Well, I never! It ain't seen! It must be one o' the differs!
_Con_. What differs? I don't understand you.
_Sus_. The differs 'tween girls an' ladies--girls like me an' realladies like you.
_Con_. Oh, I see! But how dark it has got! What can be keepingWilliam? I must go at once, or what will my aunt say! Would you mindgoing with me a little bit, Susan?
_Sus_. I'll go with pleasure, miss.
_Con_. Just a little way, I mean, till we get to the wide streets. Youcouldn't lend me an old cloak, could you?
_Sus_. I 'ain't got one stitch, miss, but what I stand up in--'cep' itbe a hodd glove an' 'alf a pocket-'an'kercher. Nobody 'ill know you.
_Con_. But I oughtn't to be out dressed like this.
_Sus_. You've only got to turn up your skirt over your head, miss.
_Con_. (_drawing up her skirt_) I never thought of that!
_Sus_. Well, I never!
_Con_. What's the matter?
_Sus_. Only the whiteness o' the linin' as took my breath away, miss.It ain't no use turnin' of _it_ up: you'll look like a lady whateveryou do to hide it. But never mind: that ain't no disgrace so long asyou don't look down on the rest of us. There, miss! There you are--fitfor a play! Come along; I'll take care of you. Lawks! I'm as good as aman--_I_ am!
_Con_. Good-bye then, Mattie.
_Mat_. Good-bye, miss. God bless you.
_Exeunt_.
END OF ACT III.