Stephen Archer and Other Tales, George MacDonald [free ebook reader txt] 📗

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.