Joseph Conrad - One Day More
J >>
Joseph Conrad >> One Day More
This is the sixth book issued by the Beaumont Press 24 copies (four of
which are not for sale) have been printed on Japanese vellum signed
by the author and numbered 1 to 24 and 250 copies on hand-made paper
numbered 25 to 274 This is No. 46
ONE DAY MORE
A PLAY IN ONE ACT
BY JOSEPH CONRAD
CHARACTERS
Captain Hagberd (a retired coasting skipper).
Josiah Carvil (formerly a shipbuilder--a widower--blind).
Harry Hagberd (son of Captain Hagberd, who as a boy ran away from home).
A Lamplighter.
Bessie Carvil (daughter of Josiah Carvil).
SCENE
A small sea port.
To rights two yellow brick cottages belonging to Captain Hagberd, one
inhabited by himself the other by the Carvils. A lamp-post in front. The
red roofs of the town in the background. A sea-wall to left.
Time: The present-early autumn, towards dusk.
ONE DAY MORE
SCENE I.
CURTAIN RISES DISCLOSING CARVIL _and Bessie moving away from sea-wall.
Bessie about twenty-five. Black dress; black straw hat. A lot of
mahogany-coloured hair loosely done up. Pale face. Full figure. Very
quiet. Carvil, blind, unwieldy. Reddish whiskers; slow, deep voice
produced without effort. Immovable, big face._
Carvil (_Hanging heavily on Bessie's arm_). Careful! Go slow! (_Stops;
Bessie waits patiently_.) Want your poor blind father to break his neck?
(_Shuffles on_.) In a hurry to get home and start that everlasting yarn
with your chum the lunatic?
Bessie. I am not in a hurry to get home, father.
Carvil. Well, then, go steady with a poor blind man. Blind! Helpless!
(_Strikes the ground with his stick_.) Never mind! I've had time to make
enough money to have ham and eggs for breakfast every morning--thank
God! And thank God, too, for it, girl. You haven't known a single
hardship in all the days of your idle life. Unless you think that a
blind, helpless father-------
Bessie. What is there for me to be in a hurry for?
Carvil. What did you say?
Bessie. I said there was nothing for me to hurry home for.
Carvil. There is, tho'. To yarn with a lunatic. Anything to get away
from your duty.
Bessie. Captain Hagberd's talk never hurt you or anybody else.
Carvil. Go on. Stick up for your only friend.
Bessie. Is it my fault that I haven't another soul to speak to?
Carvil (_Snarls_). It's mine, perhaps. Can I help being blind? You fret
because you want to be gadding about--with a helpless man left all alone
at home. Your own father too.
Bessie. I haven't been away from you half a day since mother died.
Carvil (_Viciously_). He's a lunatic, our landlord is. That's what he
is. Has been for years--long before those damned doctors destroyed my
sight for me. (_Growls angrily, then sighs_.)
Bessie. Perhaps Captain Hagberd is not so mad as the town takes him for.
Carvil. (_Grimly_). Don't everybody know how he came here from the North
to wait till his missing son turns up--here--of all places in the world.
His boy that ran away to sea sixteen years ago and never did give a sign
of life since! Don't I remember seeing people dodge round corners out
of his way when he came along High Street. Seeing him, I tell you.
(_Groan_.) He bothered everybody so with his silly talk of his son being
sure to come back home--next year--next spring--next month------. What
is it by this time, hey?
Bessie. Why talk about it? He bothers no one now.
Carvil. No. They've grown too fly. You've got only to pass a remark on
his sail-cloth coat to make him shut up. All the town knows it. But he's
got you to listen to his crazy talk whenever he chooses. Don't I hear
you two at it, jabber, jabber, mumble, mumble------
Bessie. What is there so mad in keeping up hope?
Carvil (_Scathing scorn_). Not mad! Starving himself to lay money
by--for that son. Filling his house with furniture he won't let anyone
see--for that son. Advertising in the papers every week, these sixteen
years--for that son. Not mad! Boy, he calls him. Boy Harry. His boy
Harry. His lost boy Harry. Yah! Let him lose his sight to know what real
trouble means. And the boy--the man, I should say--must 've been put
away safe in Davy Jones's locker for many a year--drowned--food for
fishes--dead.... Stands to reason, or he would have been here before,
smelling around the old fool's money. (_Shakes Bessie's arm slightly_.)
Hey?
Bessie. I don't know. May be.
Carvil (_Bursting out_). Damme if I don't think he ever had a son.
Bessie. Poor man. Perhaps he never had.
Carvil. Ain't that mad enough for you? But I suppose you think it
sensible.
Bessie. What does it matter? His talk keeps him up.
Carvil. Aye! And it pleases you. Anything to get away from your poor
blind father.... Jabber, jabber--mumble, mumble--till I begin to think
you must be as crazy as he is. What do you find to talk about, you two?
What's your game?
(_During the scene Carvil and Bessie have crossed stage from L. to R.
slowly with stoppages_.)
Bessie. It's warm. Will you sit out for a while?
Carvil (_Viciously_). Yes, I will sit out. (_Insistent_.) But what can
be your game? What are you up to? (_They pass through garden gate_.)
Because if it's his money you are after-------
Bessie. Father! How can you!
Carvil (_Disregarding her_). To make you independent of your poor blind
father, then you are a fool. (_Drops heavily on seat_.) He's too much of
a miser to ever make a will--even if he weren't mad.
Bessie. Oh! It never entered my head. I swear it never did.
Carvil. Never did. Hey! Then you are a still bigger fool.... I want to
go to sleep! (_Takes off' his hat, drops it on ground, and leans his
head back against the wall_.)
Bessie. And I have been a good daughter to you. Won't you say that for
me?
Carvil (_Very distinctly_). I want--to--go--to--sleep. I'm tired.
(_Closes his eyes_.)
(_During that scene Captain Hagberd has been seen hesitating at the
back of stage, then running quickly to the door of his cottage. He puts
inside a tin kettle (from under his coat) and comes down to the railing
between the two gardens stealthily_).
SCENE II.
_Carvil seated. Bessie. Captain Hagberd (white beard, sail-cloth
jacket_).
Bessie (_Knitting_). You've been out this afternoon for quite a long
time, haven't you?
Capt. Hagberd (_Eager_). Yes, my dear. (_Slily_) Of course you saw me
come back.
Bessie. Oh, yes. I did see you. You had something under your coat.
Capt. H. (_Anxiously_). It was only a kettle, my dear. A tin
water-kettle. I am glad I thought of it just in time. (_Winks, nods_.)
When a husband gets back from his work he needs a lot of water for a
wash. See? (_Dignified_.) Not that Harry'll ever need to do a hand's
turn after he comes home... (_Falters--casts stealthy glances on all
sides_).... tomorrow.
Bessie (_Looks up, grave_). Captain Hagberd, have you ever thought that
perhaps your son will not. . .
Capt. H. (_Paternally_). I've thought of everything, my dear--of
everything a reasonable young couple may need for housekeeping. Why,
I can hardly turn about in my room up there, the house is that full.
(_Rubs his hands with satisfaction_.) For my son Harry--when he comes
home. One day more.
Bessie (_Flattering_). Oh, you are a great one for bargains. (_Captain
Hagberd delighted_.) But, Captain Hagberd--if--if--you don't know what
may happen--if all that home you've got together were to be wasted--for
nothing--after all. (_Aside_.) Oh, I can't bring it out.
Capt. H. (_Agitated; flings arms up, stamps feet; stuttering_). What?
What d'ye mean? What's going to happen to the things?
Bessie (_Soothing_). Nothing! Nothing! Dust--or moth--you know. Damp,
perhaps. You never let anyone into the house . . .
Capt. H. Dust! Damp! (_Has a throaty, gurgling laugh_.) I light the
fires and dust the things myself. (_Indignant_.) Let anyone into the
house, indeed! What would Harry say! (_Walks up and down his garden
hastily with tosses, jings, and jerks of his whole body_.)
Bessie (_With authority_.) Now, then, Captain Hagberd! You know I won't
put up with your tantrums. (_Shakes finger at him_.)
Capt. H. (_Subdued, but still sulky, with his back to her_). You want
to see the things. That's what you're after. Well, no, not even you. Not
till Harry has had his first look.
Bessie. Oh, no! I don't. (_Relenting_.) Not till you're willing.
(_Smiles at Capt. H., who has turned half round already!_) You mustn't
excite yourself. (_Knits_.)
Capt. H. (_Condescending_). And you the only sensible girl for miles and
miles around. Can't you trust me? I am a domestic man. Always was, my
dear. I hated the sea. People don't know what they let their boys into
when they send them to sea. As soon make convicts of them at once. What
sort of life is it? Most of your time you don't know what's going on at
home. (_Insinuating_.) There's nothing anywhere on earth as good as a
home, my dear. (_Pause_.) With a good husband...
Carvil (_Heard from his seat fragmentarily_). There they go... jabber,
jabber... mumble, mumble. (_With a groaning effort?_) Helpless!
Capt. H. (_Mutters_). Extravagant ham and eggs fellow. (_Louder_.) Of
course it isn't as if he had a son to make a home ready for. Girls are
different, my dear. They don't run away, my dear, my dear. (_Agitated_.)
Bessie (_Drops her arms wearily_). No, Captain Hagberd--they don't.
Capt. H. (_Slowly_). I wouldn't let my own flesh and blood go to sea.
Not I.
Bessie. And the boy ran away.
Capt. H. (_A little vacantly_). Yes, my only son Harry. (_Rouses
himself_.) Coming home to-morrow.
Bessie (_Speaks softly_). Sometimes, Captain Hagberd, a hope turns out
false.
Capt. H. (_Uneasy_). What's that got to do with Harry's coming back?
Bessie. It's good to hope for something. But suppose now-------(_Feeling
her way_.) Yours is not the only lost son that's never...
Capt. H. Never what! You don't believe he's drowned. (_Crouches, glaring
and grasping the rails_.)
Bessie (_Frightened, drops knitting_). Captain Hagberd--don't. (_Catches
hold of his shoulders over the railings?_) Don't--my God! He's going out
of his mind! (_Cries_.) I didn't mean it! I don't know.
Capt. H. (_Has backed away. An affected burst of laughter_). What
nonsense. None of us Hagberds belonged to the sea. All farmers for
hundreds of years, (_fraternal and cunning?_) Don't alarm yourself, my
dear. The sea can't get us. Look at me! I didn't get drowned. Moreover,
Harry ain't a sailor at all. And if he isn't a sailor, he's bound to
come back--to-morrow.
Bessie (_Has been facing him; murmurs_). No. I give it up. He scares me.
(_Aloud, sharply_.) Then I would give up that advertising in the papers.
Capt. H. (_Surprised and puzzled_). Why, my dear? Everybody does it. His
poor mother and I have been advertising for years and years. But she was
an impatient woman. She died.
Bessie. If your son's coming, as--as you say--what's the good of that
expense? You had better spend that half-crown on yourself. I believe you
don't eat enough.
Capt. H. (_Confused_). But it's the right thing to do. Look at the
Sunday papers. Missing relatives on top page--all proper. (_Looks
unhappy_.)
Bessie (_Tartly_). Ah, well! I declare I don't know what you live on.
Capt. H. Are you getting impatient, my dear? Don't get impatient--like
my poor wife. If she'd only been patient she'd be here. Waiting. Only
one day more. (_Pleadingly_.) Don't be impatient, my dear.
Bessie. I've no patience with you sometimes.
Capt. H. (_Flash of lucidity_). Why? What's the matter? (_Sympathetic_.)
You're tired out, my dear, that's what it is.
Bessie. Yes, I am. Day after day. (_Stands listless, arms hanging
down_.)
Capt. H. (_Timidly_). House dull?
Bessie (_Apathetic_). Yes.
Capt. H. (_As before_). H'm. Wash, cook, scrub. Hey?
Bessie (_As before_). Yes.
Capt. H. (_Pointing stealthily at the sleeping Carvil_). Heavy?
Bessie. (_In a dead voice_). Like a millstone.
(_A silence_.)
Capt. H. (_Burst of indignation_). Why don't that extravagant fellow get
you a servant?
Bessie. I don't know.
Capt. H. (_Cheerily_). Wait till Harry comes home. He'll get you one.
Bessie (_Almost hysterical; laughs_). Why, Captain Hagberd, perhaps your
son won't even want to look at me--when he comes home.
Capt. H. (_In a great voice_). What! (_Quite low_.) The boy wouldn't
dare. (_Rising choler_.) Wouldn't dare to refuse the only sensible girl
for miles around. That stubborn jackanapes refuse to marry a girl like
you! (_Walks about in a fury_.) You trust me, my dear, my dear, my dear.
I'll make him. I'll--I'll -------- (_Splutters_.) Cut him off with a
shilling.
Bessie. Hush! (_Severe_.) You mustn't talk like that. What's this? More
of your tantrums?
Capt. H. (_Quite humble_). No, no--this isn't my tantrums--when I don't
feel quite well in my head. Only I can't stand this... I've grown as
fond of you as if you'd been the wife of my Harry already.
And to be told-------- (_Cant restrain himself; shouts_.)
Jackanapes!
Bessie. Sh--------! Don't you worry! (_Wearily_.)
I must give that up too, I suppose. (_Aloud_.) I didn't mean it, Captain
Hagberd.
Capt. H. It's as if I were to have two children to-morrow. My son
Harry--and the only sensible girl--------. Why, my dear, I couldn't get
on without you. We two are reasonable together. The rest of the
people in this town are crazy. The way they stare at you. And the
grins--they're all on the grin. It makes me dislike to go
out. (_Bewildered_.) It seems as if there was something wrong
about--somewhere. My dear, is there anything wrong--you who are
sensible.. .
Bessie (_Soothingly tender_). No, no, Captain Hagberd. There is nothing
wrong about you anywhere.
Carvil (_Lying back_). Bessie! (_Sits up_.) Get my hat, Bessie....
Bessie, my hat.... Bessie.... Bessie. ...
(_At the first sound Bessie picks up and puts away her knitting. She
walks towards him, picks up hat, puts it on his head_).
Bessie, my... (_Hat on head; shouting stops_.) Bessie. (_Quietly_). Will
you go in, now? Carvil. Help me up. Steady. I'm dizzy. It's the thundery
weather. An autumn thunderstorm means a bad gale. Very fierce--and
sudden. There will be shipwrecks to-night on our coast.
(_Exit Bessie and Carvil through door of their cottage. It has fallen
dusk_.)
Capt. H. (_Picks up spade_). Extravagant fellow! And all this town is
mad--perfectly mad. I found them out years ago. Thank God they don't
come this way staring and grinning. I can't bear them. I'll never go
again into that High Street. (_Agitated_.) Never, never, never. Won't
need to after to-morrow. Never! (_Flings down spade in passion_.)
(_While Hagberd speaks, the bow window of the Carvils is lit up, and
Bessie is seen settling her father in a big armchair. Pulls down blind.
Enter Lamplighter. Capt. H. picks up the spade and leans forward on it
with both hands; very still, watching him light the lamp_.)
Lamplighter (_Jocular_). There! You will be able to dig by lamplight if
the fancy takes you.
(_Exit Lamplighter to back_.)
Capt. H. (_Disgusted_). Ough! The people here. . . (_Shudders_.)
Lamplighter's Voice (_Heard loudly beyond the cottages_). Yes, that's
the way.
(_Enter Harry from back_.)
SCENE III.
(_Capt. H. Harry. Later Bessie_).
Harry Hagberd (_thirty-one, tall, broad shoulders, shaven face, small
moustache. Blue serge suit. Coat open. Grey flannel shirt without
collar and tie. No waistcoat. Belt with buckle. Black, soft felt hat,
wide-brimmed, worn crushed in the crown and a little on one side. Good
nature, recklessness, some swagger in the bearing. Assured, deliberate
walk with a heavy tread. Slight roll in the gait. Walks down. Stops,
hands in pockets. Looks about. Speaks_.) This must be it. Can't see
anything beyond. There's somebody. (_Walks up to Capt. Hagberd's gate?_)
Can you tell me... (_Manner changes. Leans elbow on gate?_) Why, you
must be Capt. Hagberd himself.
Capt. H. (_In garden, both hands on spade, peering, startled_). Yes, I
am.
Harry (_Slowly_). You've been advertising in the papers for your son, I
believe.
Capt. H. (_Off his guard, nervous_). Yes. My only boy Harry. He's coming
home to-morrow. (_Mumbles_.) For a permanent stay.
Harry (_Surprised_). The devil he is! (_Change of tone?_) My word!
You've grown a beard like Father Christmas himself.
Capt. H. (_Impressively_). Go your way. (_Waves one hand loftily?_)
What's that to you. Go your way. (_Agitated?_) Go your way.
Harry. There, there. I am not trespassing in the street--where I
stand--am I? Tell you what, I fancy there's something wrong about your
news. Suppose you let me come in--for a quiet chat, you know.
Capt. H. (_Horrified_). Let you--_you_ come in!
Harry (_Persuasive_). Because I could give you some real information
about your son. The--very--latest--tip. If you care to hear.
Capt. H. (_Explodes_). No! I don't care to hear. (_Begins to pace to
and fro, spade on shoulder. Gesticulating with his other arm_.) Here's
a fellow--a grinning town fellow, who says there's something wrong.
(_Fiercely_.) I have got more information than you're aware of. I have
all the information I want. I have had it for years--for years--for
years--enough to last me till to-morrow! Let you come in, indeed! What
would Harry say?
(_Bessie Carvil appears at cottage door with a white wrap on her head
and stands in her garden trying to see_).
Bessie. What's the matter?
Capt. H. (_Beside himself_). An information fellow. (_Stumbles_.)
Harry (_Putting out arm to steady him, gravely_). Here! Steady a bit!
Seems to me somebody's been trying to get at you. (_Change of tone_.)
Hullo! What's this rig you've got on?... Storm canvas coat, by George!
(_He gives a frig, throaty laugh_.) Well! You _are_ a character!
Capt. H. (_Daunted by the allusion, looks at coat_). I--I wear it
for--for the time being. Till--till--to-morrow. (_Shrinks away, spade in
hand, to door of his cottage_.)
Bessie (Advancing). And what may you want, sir?
Harry (_Turns to Bessie at once; easy manner_). I'd like to know about
this swindle that's going to be sprung on him. I didn't mean to startle
the old man. You see, on my way here I dropped into a barber's to get
a twopenny shave, and they told me there that he was something of a
character. He has been a character all his life.
Bessie (_Wondering_). What swindle?
Capt. H. A grinning fellow! (_Makes sudden dash indoors with the spade.
Door slams. Affected gurgling laugh within_.)
SCENE IV.
(_Bessie and Harry. Later Capt. H. from window_).
Harry (_After a short silence_). What on earth's upset him so? What's
the meaning of all this fuss? He isn't always like that, is he?
Bessie. I don't know who you are; but I may tell you that his mind has
been troubled for years about an only son who ran away from home--a long
time ago. Everybody knows that here.
Harry (_Thoughtful_). Troubled--for years! (_Suddenly_.) Well, I am the
son.
Bessie (_Steps back_). You! . .. Harry!
Harry (_Amused, dry tone_). Got hold of my name, eh? Been making friends
with the old man?
Bessie (_Distressed_). Yes... I... sometimes. . . (_Rapidly!_) He's our
landlord.
Harry (_Scornfully_). Owns both them rabbit hutches, does he? Just a
thing he'd be proud of... (_Earnest_.) And now you had better tell me
all about that chap who's coming to-morrow. Know anything of him? I
reckon there's more than one in that little game. Come! Out with it!
(_Chaffing_.) I don't take no... from women.
Bessie (_Bewildered_). Oh! It's so difficult... What had I better do?...
Harry (_Good-humoured_). Make a clean breast of it.
Bessie (_Wildly to herself_). Impossible! (_Starts_.) You don't
understand. I must think--see--try to--I, I must have time. Plenty of
time.
Harry. What for? Come. Two words. And don't be afraid for yourself. I
ain't going to make it a police job. But it's the other fellow that'll
get upset when he least expects it. There'll be some fun when he shows
his mug here to-morrow. (_Snaps fingers_.) I don't care that for the old
man's dollars, but right is right. You shall see me put a head on that
coon, whoever he is.
Bessie (_Wrings hands slightly_). What had I better do? (_Suddenly to
Harry_.) It's you--you yourself that we--that he's waiting for. It's
_you_ who are to come to-morrow.
Harry (_Slowly_). Oh! it's me! (_Perplexed_.) There's something there
I can't understand. I haven't written ahead or anything. It was my chum
who showed me the advertisement with the old boy's address, this very
morning--in London.
Bessie (_Anxious_). How can I make it plain to you without... (_Bites
her lip, embarrassed_.) Sometimes he talks so strangely.
Harry (_Expectant_). Does he? What about?
Bessie. Only you. And he will stand no contradicting.
Harry. Stubborn. Eh? The old man hasn't changed much from what I can
remember. (_They stand looking at each other helplessly_.)
Bessie. He's made up his mind you would come back . . . to-morrow.
Harry. I can't hang about here till morning. Got no money to get a bed.
Not a cent. But why won't to-day do?
Bessie. Because you've been too long away.
Harry (_With force_). Look here, they fairly drove me out. Poor mother
nagged at me for being idle, and the old man said he would cut my soul
out of my body rather than let me go to sea.
Bessie (_Murmurs_). He can bear no contradicting.
Harry (_Continuing_). Well, it looked as tho' he would do it too. So
I went. (_Moody_.) It seems to me sometimes I was born to them by a
mistake... in that other rabbit hutch of a house.
Bessie (_A little mocking_). And where do you think you ought to have
been born by rights?
Harry. In the open--upon a beach--on a windy night.
Bessie (_Faintly_). Ah!
Harry. They were characters, both of them, by George! Shall I try the
door?
Bessie. Wait. I must explain to you why it is to-morrow.
Harry. Aye. That you must, or...
(_Window in H.'s cottage runs up_.)
Capt. H.'s Voice (_Above_). A--grinning--information--fellow coming to
worry me in my own garden! What next?
(_Window rumbles down_.)
Bessie. Yes. I must. (_Lays hand on Harry's sleeve_.) Let's get further
off. Nobody ever comes this way after dark.
Harry (_Careless laugh_). Aye. A good road for a walk with a girl.
(_They turn their backs on audience and move up the stage slowly. Close
together. Harry bends his head over Bessie_).
Bessie's Voice (_Beginning eagerly_). People here somehow did not take
kindly to him.
Harry's Voice. Aye. Aye. I understand that.
(_They walk slowly back towards the front_.)
Bessie. He was almost ready to starve himself for your sake.
Harry. And I had to starve more than once for his whim.
Bessie. I'm afraid you've a hard heart. (_Remains thoughtful_.)
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 pass. 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 scrape. 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 God! (_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 shies 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.