A B C D E F G H I J K L M N O P R S T U V W X Z

Stephen Archer and Other Tales

G >> George MacDonald >> Stephen Archer and Other Tales




_Ger._ Who's that behind you?

_Con._ Behind me? (_looking round_). There's nobody behind me.

_Ger._ I thought there was somebody behind you. William!--What can
have become of William?

_Con._ I dare say aunt has sent him somewhere.

_Ger._ Then he's gone! he's gone!

_Con._ You're not afraid of being left alone with me, Arthur?

_Ger._ Oh no! of course not?--What can have become of William? Don't
you know they sent him--not those women, but the dead people--to look
after me? He's a good fellow. He said he would die for me. Ha! ha! ha!
Not much in that--is there?

_Con._ Don't laugh so, dear Arthur.

_Ger._ Well, I won't. I have something to tell you, Constance. I will
try to keep my senses till I've told you.

_Con._ Do tell me. I hope I haven't done anything more to vex you.
Indeed I am sorry. I won't speak to that man again, if you like. I
would rather not--if you wish it.

_Ger._ What right have I to dictate to you, my child?

_Con._ Every right. I am yours. I belong to you. Nobody owned me when
you took me.

_Ger._ Don't talk like that; you will drive me mad.

_Con._ Arthur! Arthur!

_Ger._ Listen to me, Constance. I am going to Garibaldi. He wants
soldiers. I must not live an idle life any longer.--We must part,
Constance.--Good-bye, my darling!

_Con._ No, no; not yet; we'll talk about it by-and-by. You see I shall
have ever so many things to make for you before you can go!
(_smiling_).

_Ger._ Garibaldi can't wait, Constance--and _I_ can't wait. I shall
die if I stop here.

_Con._ Oh, Arthur, you are in some trouble, and you won't tell me what
it is, so I can't help you!

_Ger._ I shall be killed, I know. I mean to be. Will you think of me
sometimes? Give me one kiss. I may have a last kiss.

_Con._ (_weeping_.) My heart will break if you talk like that, Arthur.
I will do anything you please. There's something wrong, dreadfully
wrong! And it must be my fault!--Oh! there's that man! (_starting
up_.) He shall _not_ come here.

[_Runs to the house-door, and stands listening, with her hand on
the key_.]

END OF ACT I.




ACT II.

SCENE.--_A street in Mayfair_. MRS. CLIFFORD'S _house. A pastrycook's
shop. 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!--There
ain'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 seem' me too parerlyzed to bolt, he pops me in that 'ere
jug 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 where
other pigs is black he wor white, an' where other pigs is white he wor
black.

_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.--I
wish 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 own
bracelets on 'em, an' feed 'em once a day on scraps o' wittles to
bring 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 loose
as 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 as
how ye're all good boys, an' goes to church, an' don't eat _too_ many
wittles, an' don't take off your bracelets when you goes to bed, you
shall obswerve me eat."

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

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

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

_Bill_. They ain't disgestible. But look ye here, Jack and
Jim--hearkee, my kids. (_Puts an arm round the neck of each, and
whispers 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 be
seen 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 word
I said? She'd ha' sworn on the gospel book, we sent the parcel up the
spout. But she'll believe _you_, an' give you something, and then
we'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't
like 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 yer
chice;--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 never
complains.

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

_Bill_. Most remarkable 'ungry, Mattie--this werry moment. Odd you
should 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'ys
their damaged tarts. If I'm 'appy, vere's the odds? as the cat said to
the mouse as wanted to be let off the engagement. Why should I work
more'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't
see 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 in
rags.

_Bill_. Rags is the hairier, as the Skye terrier said to the
black-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 only
sweep a crossing--

_Bill_. There ain't, a crossin' but what's took. Besides, my legs
ain'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 and
trudge. But if it's all the same to you, Mattie, I'd rayther enj'y
life: 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 the
browns 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 knocking
of yourself about, to sleep warm.

_Mat_. Well, look here, Bill. It's all Susan and I can do to pay for
our room, and get a bit of bread and a cup of tea. It ain't
enough.--If you were to earn a few pence now--

_Bill_. Oh golly! I never thought o' that. What a hass I wur, to be
sure! 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 or
two. 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 slog
me, 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 plate
glass--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, and
carry 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 a
tart.

_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 a
ha'penny, I believe. No--there's a penny! You must share it, you
know. (_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 bite
it_. 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 a
yennep, 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 go
and 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 up
into 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. Here
comes your share.

_Re-enter_ JIM. _Gives a bun to_ JACK.

_Jim_. I tell you what, Bill--she ain't _your_ Mattie. She ain't
nobody'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' of
hisself! 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 out
afore this blessed day--upon my word and honour, Jim, never!

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

_Bill_. I'll joke you!--A hangel tips you a tart, and you plucks her
feathers! Get on t'other side of the way, you little dirty devil, or
I'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 all
that conies to.

_Bill_. If you wants to go with Jim and me, then behave like a
gen'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, or
summat?

_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' angels
keep 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 awful
plaze! What has th' shepherd o' th' sheep himsel' to do, God bless
him! but go look for th' lost ones and carry 'em whoam! O Lord! gie mo
mo 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. (_General
insult_.)

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

_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 over
him_). Tell mo wheer's por aunt, or aw'll breyk every bone i' yor
body.

_Bill_ (_wriggling and howling and rubbing his eyes with alternate
sleeves_). Let me go, I say. Let me go and I'll tell ye. I will
indeed, sir.

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

_Bill_ (_starting up_). I' the church-cellar, sir--first bin over the
left--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 ov
Mattie--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! To
see 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, bless
you! 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 when
she 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't
got 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' to
him. 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 let
Scull-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 bumps
yer 'ed, an' cusses ye, an' lets ye see him eat? Afore he gets our
Mattie, I'll bite!

_Tho._ Poor lad! poor lad! Dunnot say that! Her feyther's th' best
freen' hoo's getten. Th' moor's th' pity, for it's not mich he can do
for 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.

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 a
doin' 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 afoor
aw've feawnd mo chylt.

_Col. G._ Come along with me; I will do all I can to find her. Perhaps
I 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 mo
abeawt again.

_Col. G._ I will not. They shan't come near you. Take my arm. Poor old
fellow! 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 out
again.

_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'stead
o' 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' your
sort. 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'other
incapable.

_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 for
a week, I could ha' carried you. But it's only a step to the
cook-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 the
kerb for a minute. (_Sits down_.) Oh, father! father!

_Bill_. Never you mind, Mattie! If he wor twenty fathers, he shan't
come 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 wur
a-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 a
breakin' of your precious heart about _him_? It's not your gentleman
sure_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's
what made it look all right. Oh dear! Oh dear!

_Sus_. But what's come to you now, Mattie? What's fresh in it? You're
not 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 so
when he talks to her!

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

_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 a
pain 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 the
shadows on the corn! It's no wonder he forgot poor me. But it'll burn
itself 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 colour
back! 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 head
up--and the white hands--and the taper fingers. They're stronger than
us, 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 without
going 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. If
we was dressed ever so, we couldn't come near them. It's that look,--I
don't know what.

_Sus_. Speak for yerself, Mattie; _I_'m not a goin' to think such
small beer of _my_self, _I_ can tell you! I believe if I'd been took
in 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 for one minute I could ha' kissed her very shoes. Oh, my side!

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

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

_Sus_. No fear o' that! Ladies takes care o' theirselves. They're
brought 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 nobody
to 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 to
that, Sue.

_Sus_. Don't say _me_, Mattie. _I_ wouldn't forgive him--no, not if
I 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 got
up 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! my
side! It's so bad!

_Sus_. Let's try for home, Mattie. It's a long way, and there's
nothing to eat when you're there; but you can lie down, and that's
everything 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'll
get 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 see
their boots, 'tain't much use offerin' to shine 'em. But if I can get
a penny, I will. I _must_ take a tart to Mattie, or this here damaged
one (_laying his hand on his stomach_) won't go to sleep this night.

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