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Title: Dealing in Futures
A Play in Three Acts
Author: Harold Brighouse
Release Date: August 7, 2017 [EBook #55289]
Language: English
Character set encoding: UTF-8
*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK DEALING IN FUTURES ***
Produced by David Widger from page images generously
provided by the Internet Archive
CONTENTS
JABEZ Thompson....................A Chemical Manufacturer.
ROSIE Thompson....................His Daughter.
JOHN Bunting......................A Master Dyer.
CHARLIE Bunting...................His Son.
WALTER Clavering..................A Young Doctor.
The Scene is laid in an outlying Lancashire village and the action of the play takes place within a space of twenty-six hours.
The dining-room of Jabez Thompson's; the room is luxuriously furnished and combines comfort with ostentation; the door is left, and at the back a large doorway curtained off leads to the billiard-room. (A plan of this and the other scenes in the play will be found at the end of the book.) The table is littered with the debris of dinner, and at it sit Jabez Thompson (l.), and Rosie his daughter (l.), facing each other. Jabez is elderly, corpulent, bearded, of florid face and general prosperous appearance; he wears a frock coat, light grey trousers, and has a heavy gold watch chain. He speaks with all the assertiveness of life-long success.
ROSIE is dark and highly coloured, her face strong rather than beautiful. She dresses with taste, avoiding her fathers scarcely veiled vulgarity, and wears a high dress of some amber material. She inherits her father's strength of will, and though outwardly cultured, has not been able to subdue entirely a naturally violent temper. Her voice is a little shrill and shrewish, and Jabez is obviously rather afraid of her.
Mallinson, the butler, enters with coffee, which he places on the table by Rosie. Rosie pours coffee. Butler puts cup by Jabez.
BUTLER. Mr. Lomax, from the works, has arrived, sir.
JABEZ. Very well, put him in the library. I'll be there in a moment to sign the letters.
BUTLER. Yes, sir.
JABEZ. Oh, give him this and tell him to look through it. (Gives folded paper from his pocket.)
BUTLER. Yes, sir. (Takes paper and exit.)
JABEZ (Sips coffee, lights cigar, and turns chair to face audience). By the way, Rosie, I asked Charlie to come round after dinner and to bring his father.
ROSIE (Interested). Oh! Why?
JABEZ. I'm not satisfied with him. I want to have a chat with the pair of them to see if we can't get things on a better basis.
ROSIE. What's the matter with Charlie?
JABEZ. Oh, you wouldn't understand. It's a business question.
ROSIE. I see. You'd rather I wasn't here?
JABEZ. Yes. If you don't mind. We can't do better than stick to the rule even where Charlie's concerned, eh?
ROSIE. Oh, I shan't intrude on a business talk.
JABEZ. Thanks, my dear, thanks. (Encouraged to go on.) Do you know, Rosie, I'm not a bit happy over this engagement of yours to Charlie.
ROSIE (Curtly). Why?
JABEZ (Apologetically). He's a queer fellow. I can't size him up. I can't think why on earth you got engaged to him.
ROSIE. That's my business, isn't it?
JABEZ Yes, my dear. I suppose it is. But that doesn't stop me from wishing you'd taken a fancy to some one else.
ROSIE. I've told you before I won't have you interfering in my affairs, father. I'm quite capable of managing them myself.
JABEZ (Meekly). I try not to, my dear. I do try not to. Only this matter—it's not as if you had a mother, is it now?
ROSIE. Oh, you can trust me to judge whether a man comes because he wants me or whether he's only a vulgar fortune-hunter. Whatever Charlie is or isn't, he's not after my money.
JABEZ. No, Charlie never is after money. You're easily the better business man. He's always got his head full of ideas about pampering the men instead of thinking of the welfare of the firm.
ROSIE (Snappishly). You needn't think you can get me to break it off, so don't try. You can say what you like to him so long as you remember I'm going to marry him.
JABEZ. Well, well, I must see what I can make of Charlie. (Drinks.) I'll tell you one thing, my dear, you're a good deal more eager about it than he is.
ROSIE. Possibly. You needn't worry about that.
JABEZ. But I do worry, my dear. How can I help it? (Rosie moves impatiently.) Now don't fly in a temper. He is taking his time in coming up to scratch. Let me ask you one thing?
ROSIE. Yes?
JABEZ. When are you going to be married?
ROSIE. I really don't know.
JABEZ. No, and it's time you did. You've been engaged long enough.
ROSIE. Is that what you are going to talk to him about to-night?
JABEZ. Amongst other things. I'm tired of his playing about with the thing. If your mind's made up, what's there to wait for? People are beginning to talk.
ROSIE. Let them.
JABEZ. That's all very well, but people in our position must consider public opinion. You don't object to my settling it, do you?
ROSIE. Oh, do what you want. But don't you dare to bully Charlie. I won't have him bullied.
JABEZ. Oh, I shan't hurt him. A good talking to 'ull do him no harm.
(Enter Butler, l.)
BUTLER (At door l.). Dr. Clavering has called, sir. Wishes to speak to you.
JABEZ (Surprised) Clavering? Well, show him up.
BUTLER. Yes, sir.
(Exit Butler.)
JABEZ. What's the matter with Clavering? He doesn't often condescend to leave his precious research work in the evenings. (Rosie shrugs her shoulders contemptuously. Enter Butler.)
BUTLER (Announcing). Dr. Clavering.
(Enter Clavering. Exit Butler. Clavering is a young doctor with keen clever face, clean-shaven, with a general air of self-reliance. He is a practical man of a fairs whose business happens to be doctoring.)
CLAVERING. Good evening, Mr. Thompson.
JABEZ (Rising). Good evening, Dr. Clavering. (They shake hands, and Jabez, turning his chair sits sideways to the table.)
CLAV. Good evening, Miss Thompson. (Rosie murmurs and bows coldly.)
JABEZ. Well, what can I do for you, doctor? Sit down.
CLAV. (Sits on sofa l.) The fact is—it's rather a liberty—I hope you won't mind.
JABEZ. Out with it man! What's to do?
CLAV. I've come to see you about one of your men—a fellow named Alcott.
JABEZ (Reflectively). Alcott? Alcott?
CLAV. You don't just call him to mind?
JABEZ. No, but I will.
CLAV. That won't matter. It's just——
JABEZ (rising). But it does matter; if I talk about a man I like to know who I'm talking about. I shan't be a moment. My record book's handy.
CLAV. Record book? You keep it here?
JABEZ. Yes; I've every man's record in that book. I don't risk leaving a thing like that at the works, safe or no safe. (Crossing and reaching door l.) I'll go and look the name up. Lomax is here too with the letters for signing, but that won't detain me long. (Exit taking hunch of keys from his trousers' pocket.)
CLAV. Miss Thompson, I'm glad your father's gone. It gives me an opportunity——
ROSIE (Eagerly). Yes? Any illness amongst the men, doctor?
CLAV. Only this Alcott. I'll discuss that with Mr. Thompson. Don't let's waste time now. (Rises and moves to back of table.) I hoped so much to see you alone. I never get a chance.
ROSIE. There's always the telephone.
CLAV. I can't see your face through the telephone, and it's always about others. What a great heart you have, Miss Thompson! (Sits above table.)
ROSIE. I? Oh, one does what one can.
CLAV. For others.
ROSIE. Others?
CLAV. Yes; for me it's the telephone—always the telephone. So and so's ill—a name passes, an address, and we ring off. I never get the chance of seeing you alone.
ROSIE. Doctors are such busy people, aren't they?
CLAV. Not too busy to be human, to desire to see in the flesh the woman one's always communicating with through a cold-blooded telephone. We're allies, you know, Miss Thompson, fellow-conspirators, aren't we? That makes a bond between us.
ROSIE (Conventionally). It's very good of you to let me know so promptly when any of the men fall ill and to keep it a secret between us—even from Charlie.
CLAV. (Contemptuously). Oh, Charlie!
ROSIE (Quickly). He doesn't know, of course?
CLAV. No, he knows nothing.
ROSIE. I was just afraid. You're such close friends, and this book you've been writing must have brought you closer together. I thought you might have let it slip out.
CLAV. Oh, no. I kept the bond.
ROSIE. I can never thank you sufficiently.
CLAV. You could if you would.
ROSIE. How? Tell me.
CLAV. As you said, I'm a busy man, but I'm not too busy to use my eyes. A man can't join hands with a good woman in the great work of alleviating suffering without conceiving an admiration for her, without longing—
ROSIE (Coldly). Need we waste time in compliments, Dr. Clavering? My father may be back at any moment, and if you've, anything to say to me, won't you come to the point?
CLAV. I want to know if I may hope for a reward.
ROSIE. Surely a doctor doesn't ask reward for helping to do good.
CLAV. Virtue its own reward? Come, Miss Thompson, isn't that one of the maxims all of us apply to others rather than to ourselves?
ROSIE (Rising). If you want to be paid for your services to me, doctor, perhaps you will send in an account.
CLAV. You're misunderstanding wilfully. (Rising.) Can't we be frank with one another, we coworkers in the same field? Must you wear before me the mask you put on to suit your father?
ROSIE. I wear a mask to suit my father? I think you're labouring under some mistake.
CLAV. Then the reward I aim at is—— Oh, don't you see?
ROSIE. I hope I don't. (Crossing to door R. at back.) I think we'd both better forget this conversation, Dr. Clavering.
CLAV. (Following). You shan't put me off. I——
(Enter Jabez with a small red bound book, keeping a place in it with his finger. Clavering leaves Rosie promptly and stands above table.)
JABEZ. I'm primed now, doctor. (He sits and puts the book open on the table.) There's not much worth knowing about my men that this friend can't tell me (Tapping the book). But it doesn't tell me much good about Mr. Alcott (Emphasizing the "Mr." sarcastically).
CLAV. Sorry to hear that. Poor chap, he's in a bad way. (Rosie looks interested.) eh?
JABEZ. Oh, you've been to see him professionally,
CLAV. I don't go to see Brixham's Buildings, they come to me. Surgery hours are just over.
ROSIE (Softly, sitting at writing-table r., taking a piece of note paper and writing). Brixham's Buildings.
JABEZ. Well?
CLAV. (Sitting above table with elbows on it and fingertips at chin). The work doesn't suit him. What that fellow needs is a good dose of fresh air. When I told him so, he said he'd lose his job if he asked off for a month. I've come to see if something cant be arranged for him, Mr. Tompson.
JABEZ (Coldly). In what way?
CLAV. Couldn't you give him sick leave for a month or so?
JABEZ. What's the matter with him?
CLAV. (Glancing at Rosie as if for a sign of approval). Oh my cases here are all the same. I know them off by heart. Dyspepsia and faintness to begin with and paralysis to follow. I could give that man no advice except to clear out of this. He told me he'd got to live.
JABEZ (Whose signs of irritation have increased).
ROSIE, do you mind leaving me to settle this with the doctor? It's a works question, you know.
ROSIE (Rising with the note doubled in her hand) Yes.
CLAV. (Protestingly). Oh, but——
ROSIE. Don't get up, Dr. Clavering. (Clavering rises and holds back curtain at door r.c.)
(Exit Rosie, r.c. Clavering returns to table.)
JABEZ. The fat's in the fire this time.
CLAV. I beg your pardon.
JABEZ. I thought you'd more sense than to come-here with a tale of this sort. These things upset a woman. I do all I can to keep them from her, and here you spin this yarn before I've time to stop you. You should have come to me at the office.
CLAV. (Apologetically, sitting again above table). I rather hoped Miss Thompson might have put in a word for me.
JABEZ (Brusquely). Nonsense. You know very well that I don't allow my daughter to interfere with business. I'd as soon start messing with her housekeeping. That's a woman's place if you like—the home. We'd to make a rule of it, years ago, Rosie and I. She got asking fool questions about things she didn't understand and worrying me silly till we both agreed it was best for her to steer clear of the works. We've each our place now. I've the works and she's the home. You've made a bad mistake, sir.
CLAV. I'm sorry. I do hope you'll not let this prejudice Alcott's chances of a month off.
JABEZ. I shouldn't dream of doing such a thing. A month off for a labourer! It's absurd.
CLAV. (Seriously). I can't answer for the man's life if you don't, Mr. Thompson.
JABEZ. My dear sir, you're looking at the individual case. I can't do that. I've to see all my men at once and I know what they are. Give these fellows an inch and they take an ell. I can't make an exception for Alcott. I'd have to do the same for every man who fell sick and for Heaven knows how many malingerers as well; once I began that sort of thing, I'd never know when I'd end.
CLAV. Then you won't——
JABEZ (Interrupting). It's not that I won't, I can't, and there's an end of it.
(Enter Butler, l.)
BUTLER. Mr. Bunting.
(Enter John Bunting. John bears some outward signs of similarity to Jabez. Like Jabez, he is elderly and corpulent. But, though hardly less assertive in tone at first, there is an underlying furtiveness, and he is extremely deferential to Jabez even while assuming an equal camaraderie with him. He wears a frock coat and has evidently modelled himself on Jabez. Clavering rises and goes r.c.)
JABEZ (Patronizingly). Oh, good evening, John. (Jabez does not rise.)
JOHN. Good evening. (Crossing r.) Good evening, Dr. Clavering. (Clavering bows—the Butler remains.)
JABEZ. What's the matter, Mallinson?
BUTLER (Very importantly). Dr. Clavering's housekeeper, sir, have telephoned from his surgery as he's wanted.
CLAV. (Briskly). Oh, I'll come at once. Excuse me, won't you? (Crossing to door l.)
BUTLER (Raising his hand. Clavering stops astonished). It's at the works you're wanted, sir. An accident, I believe.
CLAV. The works! (To Jabez.) Shall you come? Jabez. I? Certainly not. You're the man they want, not I. Sit down, John. (Jabez moves John to the chair Rosie had occupied at table r. John sits.)
CLAV. Oh, all right. I'll report later.
JABEZ. You needn't trouble. Bad news travels fast enough. Good night.
CLAV. (Shortly). Good night.
(Exit Clavering, l., followed by Butler.)
JABEZ. That young man's growing officious. A whisky, John. (Pours.) Have a cigar?
JOHN. Thanks. Yours are too good to refuse. Jabez. Where's Charlie? Isn't he with you? John. No. He's not been home to dinner. Still at the works I suppose.
JABEZ. Yes. (Pause.) I always did say a good cigar was the best part of a dinner.
JOHN. You're right there. When all's said and done, Jabez a good liver's got a lot to do with happiness. Thank goodness, mine doesn't trouble me.
JABEZ. Nor mine. I've no patience with these modern fads—mustn't eat this and that and all that kind of rubbish. If I fancied a thing I had it, and damn the expense. Look at me to-day, sir. (Smacking his chest.) Sound, sir, sound as a bell.
JOHN (Playing up to him). We've lived, Jabez, there's no doubt about it. We've gone the pace in our time.
JABEZ (Fiercely, as if contradicted). And why not? You tell me that. Give me a good time, I say. That's my motto, and by Heaven I've lived up to it.
JOHN (Admiringly). You always were a warm man.
JABEZ. Warm? I believe you. Damme, sir, if I had my time over again I'd do the same. I wish I had, too. I'd show the young 'uns a thing or three, eh, John? They think they're pretty wide awake, but I'll gamble we old cocks could give them a long start and win hands down. Eh, well, what's the good of wishes? (Pours himself some whisky soda.)
JOHN. Yes we've got to face it, old man. You and I have come to the time of life when a man makes his will and begins to think a bit about who's going to step into his shoes when he's done with them.
JABEZ. That's the very thing I want to talk to you about. What I always say is if you've got a bit of business to do with a man, let him come and talk things over with you in your own house. Many's the deal I've made that way in my time. Get a man feeling at home with himself, with some good wine inside him and a good cigar in his lips, and you can have your own way with him. Not that I mean that personally, John. (John waves deprecatingly.)
JABEZ. Only as a general thing.
JOHN. Of course. To be sure.
JABEZ. Yes. We've got to think of the young 'uns. Rosie, now. Rosie's a good girl—been well brought up. No expense spared—same as if she'd been a bov.
JOHN. You've done well by her, if she did disappoint you by being a girl instead of a boy.
JABEZ. Aye, aye. That's an old sore now. And If I haven't a boy, John, you have.
JOHN (Shifting uneasily). Yes, yes, I know I have.
JABEZ. Well?
JOHN. Well, what?
JABEZ. Look here, John, it's no good beating about the bush. We know each other by this time, and you're not the man to take offence at a bit of straight talk. That lad of yours wants speaking to, and damme, you're the man to do it.
JOHN. What's the'matter with him?
JABEZ. Nothing except that he's a fool. (John leaps up.)
JOHN. I say——
JABEZ (interrupting). Now sit down, John. (John sits.) Here's a lad I took a fancy to when he was a youngster. I take him to the works and give him every chance. It's understood he's to have Rosie and the business, too, when I've done with it. Here's Rosie sick for love of him. And what's he doing? Shillyshallying round and can't be got to name the day. That's not all, either, but it'ull do to go on with. What do you make of it, John? What's the matter with him?
JOHN. The boy's sound enough at bottom. Give him time to come round. It's not the thing nowadays to get married as young as it was in our day. And Charlie's in love with his work.
JABEZ. I know he is, the young fool.
JOHN. Come, steady on, Jabez.
JABEZ. Oh, well—Yes, all right, John. But what sort of work is it? Laboratory experiments!
JOHN. Yes, and jolly useful they are, too. You're bound to have a chemist. Give the devil his due, Jabez, Charlie's discoveries have been the making of the business.
JABEZ. They've had their uses.
JOHN. I should think they have. Why, man, you simply ran the place for a couple of years on that cheap fast red of his.
JABEZ. Hang it all, experimenting's all right, but a fellow needs a business head as well; what's the good of his finding new processes if he can't exploit 'em?
JOHN. You exploit them.
JABEZ. I know I do. But I shan't be here for ever. Charlie 'ud be a catspaw in the hands of a smart business man. He's the sort of fool a clever fellow likes to get hold of. I want him to help me in the management, in selling the stuff and handling the men, and I can't get him to stir a finger. What's the use of a man like that at the head of a business concern?
JOHN (gruffly). Then don't put him there.
JABEZ (irritated—rising and pacing about). By God, I will, though. (Turning abruptly to John.) Why? (l.c.) I'll tell you why, John. Nothing queers a man for business like the knowledge that thing's aren't right at home, and that girl of mine's fretting (u.l.). I tell you I'm not very particular who she marries so long as I know she's married happily, but she's set her heart on Charlie, so Charlie it must be, and I'm damned if I'll have him putting her off any longer. It's upsetting Rosie and it's upsetting me. That's why I want Charlie to be a man instead of a skulking chemist. (Pause—dropping down l.) The fellow wants some backbone, John. Managing a works isn't all plain sailing to-day, same as it was when the men knew their places. It wants a strong hand and a quick brain to see how to give 'em the little things that don't matter and to keep from them the big things that do. I'm getting old, John. I'd like a rest. You'll speak to him, now, won't you?
(Sits l. of table.)
JOHN. Very well. I'll do my best.
JABEZ. Just make him see which side his bread's buttered. He's too clever by half. I can't make him out sometimes. He's got notions in his head about coddling the men and giving them better wages before they ask for them, as if it wasn't enough to have the Factory Acts and the Government Inspectors poking their noses round. Dangerous trades! It was good enough for their fathers, and, by God! it 'ull have to be good enough for them. I don't run my place for charity, and the sooner they get that into their thick heads the better. (Irritably.) Where the devil is Charlie?
JOHN. He said he'd come on here from the works if he wasn't home to dinner.
JABEZ. Then why isn't he here?
JOHN. Experimenting again, I suppose.
JABEZ. Hang his experiments!
(Enter l. Charlie Bunting greatly excited. He has the face of a visionary and his high forehead contrasts with a weak, receding chin; he has convictions and ideals, but it is doubtful if he has the courage to live up to them.)
JABEZ. Oh, there you are, sir. About time, too. (Seeing Charlie's agitation.) Hello, what's wrong with you?
CHARLIE. There's been an accident. (He gasps.) Jabez. Fatal?
CHARLIE. Yes.
JABEZ. Curse their carelessness. (Irritably.) Another inquest, of course, and headlines in the papers and questions from the Coroner. What is it this time? Another, drunken fool walked into the vitriol tanks?
CHARLIE (bitterly). Oh, no, this needn't trouble you. We don't often kill men suddenly. We poison them by gradual degrees.
JABEZ. What was it? Am I ever going to know?
CHARLIE. The lift gave way.
JABEZ. The lift? Oh, we're not responsible for that. It was inspected only last week. We hold a certificate of efficiency.
CHARLIE. Oh, yes, it was examined right enough. Only the men tell me the inspector was drunk when he came.
JABEZ. They can't prove it.
CHARLIE. Not they. You needn't worry. They'll not have the pluck to repeat it in court. (Up stage L.)
JABEZ. Certainly not; a coroner's court isn't the place for irresponsible gossip of that kind.
CHARLIE (down to sofa). No, the verdict will be accidental death right enough, with polite expressions of sympathy and a rider exonerating us from blame.
JABEZ (settling himself comfortably in his chair). Of course. Very proper, very proper. And we've the Insurance Company to fall back on. I tell you what, Charlie, they'll be raising our premium if things go on like this. Two fatal accidents in a mouth. I suppose there's a widow. There usually is.
CHARLIE. Yes. There's a widow and six children. (Going up l.)
JABEZ. (Turning to John) I don't know how it is, but it always is the married men who get killed. (To Charlie.) Well, I don't see what there is to make all this fuss about, Charlie. Accidents will happen. Upon my word, you quite frightened me for a moment. Ring the bell and have some dinner.
CHARLIE (shuddering). I can't eat. I've just seen a man killed. Oh, it's horrible, horrible. (Sits on sofa l., burying head in hands.)
JABEZ. Nonsense, man. Pull yourself together. It's deplorable, of course—a most distressing occurrence—but no reason for going without your dinner. What did I tell you, John? Charlie's too soft for this world.
CHARLIE (raising head). Don't you understand? I saw the lift crash down. I was there when they got out the poor, broken, mangled body from amongst the blood-stained splinters. I saw——
JABEZ. Excuse me, Charlie, but I've just had my dinner. Kindly have the delicacy not to enter into, details.
CHARLIE. Very well. I—oh, I think I'll go home. Good night. (Going.)
JOHN. Wait a moment, Charlie. (Charlie's hand is on the door-knob L.) We were just speaking about you. Hadn't we better thrash this matter out now, Jabez?
JABEZ (grimly). I'm agreeable if Charlie is.
JOHN. Sit down, Charlie. (Charlie sits meanly on sofa.)
CHARLIE. What is it?
JOHN. Well, it's like this. Jabez tells me he considers you're wasting your time. He doesn t call you lazy—not exactly lazy, do you, Jabez? He wants you to widen your interests and broaden your ideas. That's it, isn't it?
CHARLIE (to Jabez). Oh, that's it, is it?
JABEZ. It's one way of putting it. I don't know whether it's laziness or what it is, but you certainly fight shy of a bit of honest work.
CHARLIE (leaping up fierily). Work? What else do I do from early morning when I enter the laboratory till late at night when I leave it?
JABEZ (smoothly). Quietly, quietly. Yes, that's all very well, but that's not what I call work. Charlie. What do you call it then?
JABEZ. It's not work to you. You like doing it. Charlie. I loathe it from the bottom of my Soul.
JABEZ. Then why do it?
CHARLIE. Well, as you put me into the works you ought to be able to answer that better than I can. I'd no taste for the work at all, but the laboratory was the department I detested least. I suppose I naturally drifted to it.
JABEZ. Look here, my lad, I asked you a plain question, and I'll thank you for a plain answer. Charlie. I thought I'd given you one.
JABEZ. What made you choose the laboratory? Charlie. I thought I saw some shadowy hope of doing good there.
JABEZ. Well, you've done a bit. I'll give you credit for that.
CHARLIE. Not that kind of good. That was accidental. I only hit by chance on the processes which happened to prove profitable to you.
JABEZ. By chance? Then what the devil were you driving at with my time and my chemicals?
CHARLIE. I hoped to find some means of accomplishing what we do here by less dangerous methods to let a little health into the work. I saw strong workmen brought to these works in the prime of life and health, and in a few years turned away, broken, worn-out invalids. I worked to find a way out.
JABEZ (contemptuously). You fool.
CHARLIE. I quite agree. (Rises and paces up and down.) Yes, fool, fool, fool. Fool as much as if I'd sought the philosopher's stone or the elixir of life. I did seek the elixir of life, and I will go on seeking it—life for those helpless hundreds driven by the need to live to certain death. Let me go on. Let me hope; but do not ask me to assist in getting orders for our deadly production. Every contract you sign your name to is the death-warrant of a workman. (Sitting on arm of sofa.)
JOHN (imploringly). Charlie!
JABEZ. Have a little common sense, man. You're seeing things to-night. This accident's got on your nerves. (Rises.) After all, I think you had better go home. We'll talk this over another time. I haven't lost my temper yet and I don't want to. (Putting his hand on Charlie's shoulder.) Come now, admit that you're not quite yourself.
CHARLIE. You treat me like a child. Having been naughty, I'm sent to bed to sleep oft my tantrums.
JABEZ. And I'm the ogre in the fairy story who makes bread of people's bones, eh, Charlie? Yes, you'll laugh at this to-morrow. Really, you've been making an awful ass of yourself. You 'll see things in a better perspective in the morning.
CHARLIE (bitterly). With myself as a respectable member of the governing classes, I suppose, with nice clean hands and a dirty conscience.
JABEZ. For Heaven's sake, Charlie, drop that silly twaddle. We've had enough of your platform manner for one night. You talk like a Hyde Park orator, only they're paid to make fools of themselves and you're not.
CHARLIE. (Pulling himself together) No. Let's have this out. I didn't begin it, but now we've gone so far I must know where we stand.
JABEZ. You're not fit for it. But it's as you like. (Sits l. of table.)
CHARLIE. I do like. Now, Mr. Thompson, it's understood that I meant what I said. You must let me continue my laboratory work. I still hope to find less dangerous methods. I may also drop across a few more novelties for you to exploit. But I definitely decline to have a hand in coercing my fellow creatures to do the work as it is done at present, or in procuring orders necessitating such work.
JABEZ. But it is necessary work, Charlie. You must see that.
CHARLIE. No work involving risk of death and the certaintv of ill health is necessary.
JABEZ. Ours is. If the supply of our productions was cut short huge industries would be automatically dislocated. How are people to run their bleaching works and dye works if they can't get dye stuffs?
CHARLIE. Never mind. That wouldn't matter.
JABEZ. Oh, the boy's mad. This is what comes of debating societies and political meetings for infants. Look here, Charlie, it's one thing to get on your legs and spout revolutionary rot to a roomful of fantastic fools as hare-brained as yourself, but it's a very different pair of steps to come here and ask me to take you seriously. If it wasn't for Rosie, I'd take you at your word and send you packing. As it is, I'll try something else first. John, this is your affair now. You've got to bring this fellow to his senses. (Rises and goes round table to John, r.)
JOHN. I'll try, Jabez, I'll try.
JABEZ. (Threateningly) You'll succeed. (Going up to door r.c.)
JOHN (Looking up at him) What do you mean?
JABEZ. You know as well as I do. I'm sorry, old man, but I've got to put the screw on. You can't expect me to keep my patience for ever if he won't hear reason. You can't blame me. I'll go and join Rosie while you straighten things out a bit between you.
(Exit through door centre. John sinks back into his seat and buries his head in his hands on the table. Charlie goes behind table to him and tries to raise him up.)
CHARLIE (Softly). Dad.
JOHN (slowly removing his hands from his face and raising his eyes to Charlie). You haven't called me that since you were a little boy.
CHARLIE. Dear old dad. I don't want to know what it is. Let him think he's got hold of something. I don't care. .
JOHN. But you must know. I'm absolutely in his power. He can ruin me if he likes.
CHARLIE. How?
JOHN. It's my dye works, Charlie. Jabez finances it. No one knows it's not my own, but if he cut off supplies I'd have to close it down to-morrow, and call my creditors together. I make a living out of it, but the capital's all his. I couldn't meet a tenth of my liabilities without his aid.
CHARLIE. Never mind, dad. (Sits above table.) We'll fight it together, shoulder to shoulder, you and I against the world. What does poverty matter if we can be independent?
JOHN (terrified). No, no. You can't mean that. You can't mean to bring disgrace upon your father's grey hairs. Think of my position, Charlie—a public man in my own way; not such a big pot as Jabez, but I have my feelings just the same. The Black-more Dye Works is a small enough concern compared with Jabez's Chemical Works, but it's meant the world to me. Every one thinks the business is mine. What will people say when they learn that I'm practically penniless?
CHARLIE. What does it matter what people say?
JOHN (ignoring him). And Jabez is a man of his word. He means it. He's never threatened to do this before.
CHARLIE. And what makes him do it now?
JOHN. Oh, you must do what he wants, Charlie.
CHARLIE. But why does he want it? Why won't he see that I'm unfit for the position he offers me? I can't and I won't fill it to his orders. Oh, it's my own fault, I suppose. He's quite right. I'm soft—too soft for this horrible, inhuman world. I yielded at first because I hoped to do some good, and I've gone on yielding ever since. It seemed so easy to acquiesce and to hope for the best. And this is where my cursed weakness has landed me.
JOHN. Yes. Jabez has us at his mercy.
CHARLIE. I'm as far as ever from seeing why he's doing it.
JOHN. Oh, that's plain enough. He's a good sort, is Jabez.
CHARLIE (staggered). What!
JOHN. Oh, yes, really a good sort, only he likes to play boss. That's why he kept mum about my business—so that he could do as he liked with me. And then Rosie took a fancy to you; so old Jabez steps in to play providence to a pair of lovers. He's meant well all along.
CHARLIE. He's a sentimental ass. Curse his good intentions.
JOHN. You may curse them, but you'll not alter them. Jabez will have his way. Right or wrong, he will have his way, he always does. You may call him obstinate, pig-headed, anything you like, but, mark my words, it's no use fighting against him.
CHARLIE (contemptuously). You're frightened of him.
JOHN (with conviction). Terribly.
CHARLIE. Well, I'm not.
JOHN (coming to him). Charlie, you must give way. Remember me. Can't you see that all these years have been hell upon earth to me? I've been his slave, his dog, and all the time he professed friendship for me, nay, he was my friend. He patted me with one hand, but the dog-whip was in the other. You can't force him to speak now, Charlie. Oh, say you can't.
CHARLIE. But—oh, I don't understand. If you had imagination enough to see all this and to writhe under it, and strength enough to keep your hands off him, couldn't you see there was a way out? Why couldn't you leave him, leave this place, and make a fresh start somewhere else without his cursed money?
JOHN. I might have done that at first. But well—like father like son, Charlie.
CHARLIE. What's that supposed to mean?
JOHN. You've acquiesced. You've gone on hoping for the best. So did I till the cords which held me were bound more closely, till I became a man of substance here, looked up to by my neighbours. They made me sidesman at the Church and then a magistrate. I loved these things, Charlie, the little honours I had won. I clung to them. Your mother died, and as you grew up and drifted from me full of ideas I could not understand, I clung more closely to the little things life held for me. Its all I have, Charlie. Don't take that away from me Charlie. Why shouldn't people know it? There's no disgrace in having your business financed by another man.
JOHN. Well, if you must know, there's another reason.
CHARLIE (suddenly alarmed). It's a paying concern, isn't it?
JOHN. Yes, but I can't prove it.
CHARLIE. Why not?
JOHN. I've no figures to show. Any one I approached would want to see accounts—audited accounts.
CHARLIE. Well, haven't you got them?
JOHN. No. It was enough for Jabez to know that he got a good return on his money. I've never had auditors in the place. Jabez never asked it.
CHARLIE. That doesn't justify your carrying on the thing in a slipshod manner. It only shows how absolutely content you were to remain in abject dependence on Thompson. Any tin-pot grocer keeps his books properly and gets them audited.
JOHN. Charlie, I'm your father.
CHARLIE. Oh, it's all right. I'm going to stick by you. I'm going to be a pawn in Thompson's game. But I can't pretend that I can do it with a good grace. Your point of view's all wrong. You've been sailing under false colours all your life, and now I'm to cave in to Thompson so that you can go on living a lie to the end, and a silly lie at that.
JOHN (with dignity). Charlie, remember who you are speaking to.
CHARLIE. I do. I haven't the slightest hope of making you see it as I do, but I can't go licking Thompson's boots on your behalf without letting you know I'm not doing it for fun. And there's Rosie. I suppose Rosie's included in the bargain.
JOHN. You engaged yourself to her, didn't you?
CHARLIE. No. She did all the engaging there was about it. But it amounts to the same thing. I shall have to go through with it.
JOHN. Well, for the life of me I can't see what you have to complain of. Rosie's a nice girl.
CHARLIE. That's no reason for marrying her. A man can't marry all the nice girls he knows.
JOHN. But you've always been fond of her, ever since you were children together. You used to call her your little friend.
CHARLIE (lightly). Mere boy and girl flirtation.
JOHN. It looked more serious than that.
CHARLIE (Exasperated). Serious? Of course it was serious. What do you take me for? Do you think I'd have consented to an engagement at any price if I hadn't loved her to distraction? I've tried to cease loving her, to school myself to hate her because of what she is—Thompson's daughter—and I've failed. The love I hoped to conquer only conquered me. It's no good fighting it. I know that now. John (triumphantly). Very well then, if you love the girl——
CHARLIE (At bay) Wait a bit. We were engaged before my eyes were opened, before I'd seen the horrible injustice of the men's lives in the works. I tell you it's wrong, all wrong. From the first moment that I realized it, I dedicated my life to the men. All personal desires were at an end. Rosie—everything went by the board. It was the men, the men, always the men.
JOHN. Pssh!
CHARLIE. I can't serve two masters. I can't waste time on marriage. I've a lifelong duty to perform. I've to battle for reform; and how can I be single-purposed in the fight if I'm tied to Rosie and accept a share of Thompson's tainted money?
JOHN (hopelessly). Well, I can't understand. I never could, and I'm sure I don't want to interfere between you, but Jabez seems to think you've been engaged long enough.
CHARLIE. I can't help that. There are two ways of ending an engagement, anyhow.
JOHN. Charlie, you promised.
CHARLIE. Yes, if she insists. It's Rosie I'm engaged to, not Thompson. I'm not going to start married life on a lie, (Enter Rosie centre.) and I shan't start it at all if I can help it. I——
ROSIE. What are you two talking about so seriously? Father's sent me to see.
JOHN. Has he, my dear? (Rising and moving as though he had suddenly grown twenty years older.) I think I will go to him. (Walking towards the door and mumbling again.) Yes, I think I will go to him.
(Exit John by door r.c. A slight pause. Rosie looks at Charlie.)
ROSIE. Well, haven't you a word to throw at a dog? (Charlie is silent.) Charlie, you're not ill, are you?
CHARLIE. Ill? No. I'm all right.
ROSIE. Well, suppose you say "Good evening" to me.
CHARLIE (collecting himselj). I'm sorry. (He crosses over and kisses her per junctorily, then sits down absent-mindedly on soja. Rosie watches him for a moment.)
ROSIE. You're not very brilliant to-night.
CHARLIE. There's a depressing feeling in the air. Have you felt it?
ROSIE (compassionately). You poor boy! Father worries you with problems all day at the works, and when you come here in the evening its business again. No wonder you're depressed. (Going and sitting on the arm of the soja.) Let me cheer you up. I'm not business, am I?
CHARLIE. No. But I think sometimes the problems I face in the laboratory are child's play to those I've to face outside it.
ROSIE. Is it anything I can help with? Let me try.
CHARLIE. It is you.
ROSIE. Am I a problem? (Rising and moving slightly away) How exciting!
CHARLIE. It's not exciting. It's serious.
ROSIE (soberly, above soja). And I'm not? All right. I'll be serious, Charlie. What's the matter?
CHARLIE. Rosie, it's about—about our engagement. We've been engaged quite a long time now.
ROSIE. Two years.
CHARLIE. Yes. It seems people are wondering why we don't get married.
ROSIE (simply). I'm ready when you are, Charlie.
CHARLIE. Yes—yes. That's just it.
ROSIE. What?
CHARLIE. It's a difficult thing to say, but I'm not ready.
ROSIE (sympathetically, standing in front of sofa). I don't think I mind very much what people say, Charlie. If you want me to wait a little longer, I can wait. I don't want to hurry you. You must choose your own time. (More lightly.) So that's all right and the cloud's passed now.
CHARLIE (moved). Oh—if you only knew how hard you're making it for me. You're too good, too true to realize what a weakling I am, what a criminal fool I've been to let things go on to this stage.
ROSIE (startled). Charlie, what do you mean?
CHARLIE (rising and crossing to Rosie). I'm going to hurt you, Rosie. It's all my cursed fault. Try to think of me as kindly as you can. Rosie, it's not a case of waiting a little longer. I wish to God it was. It's that I can't marry you at all.
ROSIE. You can't marry me!
CHARLIE. Oh, don't think worse of me than you must. It's not another woman. It never was and it never can be. I shall never love any one but you.
ROSIE. Then why, why?
CHARLIE. My life's too full.
ROSIE (wonderingly). Your life?
CHARLIE. Yes. How shall I put it? (Crossing to soja l.) A Catholic priest doesn't marry lest marriage distract him from his wrestle with the devil. I too am going to wrestle with a devils the devil of industrialism. I've things to do in the world, a battle to fight which can only be fought in the strength of loneliness.
ROSIE (a little hardly). Yet you engaged yourself to me.
CHARLIE. Two years ago. I didn't see it then Day by day it has become clearer. The task I have to do reveals itself. Oh, I dare say I don't put things well. I know I must show up like a blackguard for not telling you before. It's been inevitable for months, but I let things slide and there it is. We're up against it now. (Pause.)
ROSIE. Yes. We're up against it now. Only it takes two to make a bargain, Charlie. If you can be obstinate, so can I.
CHARLIE. What do you mean?
ROSIE. I mean that I know you better than you know yourself and a hundred times better than you know me. You and your Catholic priest! In the Church I belong to priests marry, and I've yet to learn that they fight the devil any the worse for it. I don't believe that the strongest man is he who stands most alone when there's a woman in love with him. You don't know me yet, Charlie. If you think I'd let you go for the sake of your wrestle with the devil, you're mistaken. The devil might throw you if you wrestled him alone, but he'll have less chance if I'm there to pull his tail.
CHARLIE. You won't release me?
ROSIE. Never. Oh, you needn't be afraid. I dare say I've a surprise in store for you. You'll be none the worse for having a woman by your side and I know I'm the right woman. There's only one way of making you believe it, and that is by marrying you and proving it. I'm not afraid.
CHARLIE. Well, I am. (Crossing to r.c.) You're assuming that I'm the ordinary sort of fool who thinks money's everything. I may be a lunatic, but I'm not that brand. I want to be left alone. I want a decent chance of living my life in my own way. As things are, I'm caged. I'm at the bottom of an infamous well, and there's a window somewhere far up, but I can't reach it. I can't find the way out. (Rosie smiles compassionately.) Now, you're laughing at me. You! Rosie, harmless, necessary Rosie, whom I've always thought of as the type of bread and butter miss.
ROSIE. And you're surprised to find her a woman with a will of her own?
CHARLIE. You won't let me go? (Crossing to l.c.)
ROSIE. Never.
CHARLIE. Do you know what you are doing?
ROSIE (confidently). Oh, yes.
CHARLIE. You don't. You think you're being my guardian angel. You think you're helping me. As a matter of fact, you're hanging a millstone round my neck which will drag me down to the lowest depths of human misery. If it wasn't so utterly tragic I could laugh for a week at the silliness of it all. I'm not allowed an opinion of my own. I'm not to diverge by one hand's breadth from the path laid down for me. I'm to marry the wife you choose and do the work you choose and own the wealth you choose and take the place in society laid down for me. I'm not a man. I'm a specimen in a case with a pin through my body. I'm clay in the hands of the potter. I'm——
ROSIE. You're the man I love. (Charlie collapses into chair l. of table.)
CHARLIE. That's the last straw. I suppose I shall have that thrown in my face all my life.
ROSIE (reflectively). Let me see. Shall we say April 25? Lent will be over by then.
CHARLIE. Say what you like. I haven't a kick left in me.
ROSIE (going to door c. and calling). Father, father!
(Enter Jabez and John in their shirt-sleeves with billiard cues.)
JABEZ. Well, my dear. What is it? (c. behind table, John crosses R.c. Rosie is back l.c.)
ROSIE. Father, Charlie wants us to be married on April 25.
JABEZ. The young scamp. What a hurry he's in. Well, well, young people will be young people, eh, John? (Nudges John.)
JOHN. Thank you, my boy, thank you. You don't know what this means to me.
JABEZ. Yes, this saves a lot of trouble, Charlie. You're going to be a sensible fellow, after all.
(Patting Charlie's shoulder. John turns gratefully to Rosie.)
The next morning. Thompson's office at the works. Doors l. and at the extreme R.C. Opposite the door L. is a desk with revolving arm-chair. Fireplace at the back centre, table against the wall by the fireplace. A couple of revolving arm-chairs. Carpet on floor. Jabez believes in working in comfort. Small hat-rack attached to wall by the door l. Telephone receiver on the desk, speaking tube protruding from the wall by the chair and handbell on desk, which is open. Clock on mantelpiece points to 9.55.
LOMAX is an elderly man with iron-grey hair, cleanshaven, and has the appearance, of a confidential head clerk or cashier, which in fact he is. He arranges a few open letters on the desk and puts a paper weight on them as Charlie enters l. bringing in Mrs. Wilcock, a careworn woman of thirty, dressed in black with shabby skirt, heavy incongruous mantle and beaded bonnet. A considerable nervousness is added to her distress.
CHARLIE. (Sympathetically) Come in here, Mrs. Wilcock.
MRS. WILCOCK (Entering shyly, seeing Lomax and "bobbing" towards him) Thank ye, sir.
CHARLIE. Sit down. Make yourself comfortable. (Pulling chair across towards fire.) Good morning, Mr. Lomax.
LOMAX (crossing to l.). Good morning, sir.
(Exit Lomax, l. Mrs. Wilcock sits on the edge of the chair.)
MRS. WIL. (Anxiously) Do you think as A'm doing the reeght thing, Mr. Bunting, sir?
CHARLIE (Standing by her r.). Oh, yes, quite right, Mrs. Wilcock.
MRS. WIL. (volubly). They all told me A mun coom an' see the master. A weren't sure if it were proper. But there's not above a two three shilling in th' 'ouse, an' wheer money's to coom from for th' burying A dunno. Six childer to find black for an' all, an' none of 'em old enough to be earning.
CHARLIE (with his back to fire). Don't let that trouble you, Mrs. Wilcock. I'll see to that.
MRS. WIL. It's all coom so sudden. He coom out to his work as cheerful as could be, an' when they browt him whoam to me a steam roller might a'gone o'er 'im.
CHARLIE (shuddering). Yes, yes. I saw him.
MRS. WIL. The neighbours 'as been that good to me you wouldn't believe. One's lent me this cape an' another's loaned me this bonnet. A'd nobbut a skirt masel' as was anyways black. It's not as if we'd been in a buryin' club. Takes us folk all our time to go on livin' when theer's six young mouths to fill an' another comin'.
CHARLIE. Well, you mustn't distress yourself about the funeral, Mrs. Wilcock. I'll make that my business.
MRS. WIL. (with tears). Bless you, sir, tha's taken a load off my mind. A couldn't abide thowt o' my man's not bein' buried proper.
CHARLIE. What you've got to talk to Mr. Thompson about is the future.
MRS. WIL. (resignedly). It'll 'ave to be th' 'ouse for me.
CHARLIE. Oh, nonsense. You'll get compensation.
MRS. WIL. Must A ask the master for it, sir?
CHARLIE. Certainly.
MRS. WIL. A misdoubt A'll never 'ave th' face to do it.
CHARLIE. You've nothing to be' afraid of. It'll be all right, Mrs. Wdcock.
MRS. WIL. (dolefully). A never thowt as mine 'ud be workus children.
CHARLIE. They won't be. You needn't fear that. (Dowden, a young clerk of about twenty-eight, opens the door l. He is cirefully dressed, but his clothes have seen better days.)
DOWDEN. Dr. Clavering to see you, sir.
(Enter Clavering, l. Dowden shuts the door.)
CHARLIE. Hullo, old man!
CLAVERING. Good morning.
CHARLIE. This is Mrs. Wilcock.
CLAV. (properly sympathetic). Oh, yes. Good morning. Very sorry to hear about your husband, Mrs. Wilcock. (r.c.)
MRS. WIL. (tearfully). Yes, sir. (Charlie goes to the door l. and opens it.)
CHARLIE. Oh, Dowden. (Dowden appears.)
DOWDEN. Yes, sir?
CHARLIE. Just give Mrs. Wilcock a chair by the counting house fire, till Mr. Thompson comes, will you? Go with this gentleman, Mrs. Wilcock. (She rises and he walks with her to the door.) Now, don't you fret. You won't have to go to the workhouse.
MRS. WIL. Thank you, sir. (She goes out with Dowden, l.)
CLAV. Are you sure of that?
CHARLIE. God knows, but the insurance people shan't rob her if I can help it. Isn't it damnable, Clavering?
CLAV. Yes. But it won't last for ever.
CHARLIE. The book, you mean. (Taking a book from his pocket.)
CLAV. Yes, the book. Hullo, do you carry it about with you?
CHARLIE. I'm going to give this to Thompson to-day.
CLAV. Are you?
CHARLIE (a little anxiously). It's all right, I suppose? About the publication?
CLAV. Oh, yes. I heard from Mitchell this morning. It will be published to-morrow.
CHARLIE. That's good.
CLAV. Yes. What I came to show you was this. (Taking paper from an envelope from his inside pocket.) It's simply gorgeous.
CHARLIE. What is it?
CLAV. Well, I've a friend on the London Morning News, and I got Mitchell to see he had a copy of the book.
CHARLIE. Yes?
CLAV. (handing him the proof). He sent me a proof of his review by this morning's post. That's it. He's done us well.
CHARLIE. By Jove. That's luck.
CLAV. Yes. It's a storming notice.
CHARLIE. Things are going to move a bit now the book's coming out. It'll waken people up to a realization of the kind of thing that's done in the name of profit.
CLAV. (impatiently). Yes. I haven't time to stay now. I must get on with my round.
CHARLIE. Of course. Don't let me detain you, old man. I'll read this at once. Thanks for bringing it.
CLAV. Right you are. Good-bye. I'll go this way. It's shorter. (Opening door at hack R.C.)
CHARLIE. Do. Good-bye.
(Exit Clavering, r.c. Charlie unfolds the proof and reads it, moving towards the door at hack. Enter Lomax.)
LOMAX. Mr. Thompson has just come in, sir. (Crossing to desk.)
CHARLIE. All right. Let him know Mrs. Wilcock's there. I shall be in the laboratory if he asks for me.
(Exit Charlie, r.c. Lomax fusses about the desk for a moment. Jabez comes in L. takes off his hat and coat and hangs them by the door. Lomax stands to attention at the desk.)
JABEZ. Good morning, Lomax.
LOMAX (deferentially). Good morning, sir. (Pause.) Jabez. Anything fresh there?
LOMAX. Not very much, I'm afraid.
JABEZ. There's not much trade about, these days. (Sitting at his desk.)
LOMAX. No, sir. Cranbury's haven't sent their cheque again.
JABEZ. Haven't they? Well, I'm waiting no longer. You'd better ring up Charlton and get him to take it in hand. You might attend to this lot. (Handing him some letters.)
LOMAX. Yes, sir.
JABEZ. That's all. (Lomax coughs.) Well, what is it?
LOMAX. That matter of young Dowden sir. You said you would speak to him to-day.
JABEZ. Oh, yes, of course. (Takes down speaking tube and blows: then puts it to his mouth.) Send Dowden to me. (Replaces tube.) Let me see invoice desk, isn't he?
LOMAX. Yes, sir.
JABEZ. You're quite sure he's getting restive? Lomax. Absolutely. I thought he'd ask for a rise last week. It's been on his tongue three or four times or I shouldn't have mentioned it to you. A look from me generally keeps them quiet if they only half mean it.
JABEZ. What does he get?
LOMAX. Twenty-two shillings.
JABEZ. What's he likely to ask for?
LOMAX. I shouldn't wonder if he asked thirty, sir. For one thing it's three years since he had a rise, and for another he keeps his mother.
JABEZ. Has she got any money?
LOMAX. I fancy not, sir.
JABEZ. Good. That'll keep him steady That's the kind we want, Lomax. He can't afford to take risks. Good worker of course?
LOMAX. Excellent. None better.
JABEZ. Age?
LOMAX. Twenty-eight, sir. (A knock.) Shall I go, sir?
JABEZ. No. Stay here. (Calling.) Come in.
(Enter Dowden, l. he is obviously extremely nervous over his "carpeting" before his employer. Lomax stands above desk.)
JABEZ (beaming paternally on him, with his elbows on the arms of his chair and his finger-tips together.) Come in, Dowden. Don't be nervous, man. No one's going to hurt you. (Dowden shuts door and moves towards Jabez.) This is one of those pleasant interludes in the life of an employer which make it worth the living. You have pleased me, Dowden.
DOWDEN. Very good of you to say so, I'm sure, sir.
JABEZ. Mr. Lomax has spoken most favourably of you. Good lad, good lad. We've been putting our heads together and we're going to raise your salary to—twenty-five shillings a week.
DOWDEN. Thank you, sir. Thank you very much indeed. (Nervously.) Only, sir, I was going to ask——
JABEZ (interrupting). Don't thank me, Dowden. You owe it to your own good work. Go on in the same way and you may come to me again in a year's time, I'll see you right. Mr. Lomax just make a note of that, will you? That will do, Dowden.
DOWDEN. Yes, sir, and thank you, sir.
(Exit Dowden, l.)
JABEZ. Settled his hash for a year anyhow, Lomax. Just let me know of any similar symptoms in good men. It always pays to take time by the forelock in these little matters.
LOMAX. It does that, sir. You prove it. You've the cheapest office staff in the country for its size.
JABEZ (chaffing him genially). You think so, Lomax?
LOMAX. I'm sure of it, sir.
JABEZ. I sometimes think the cashier makes a big hole in the salary list, eh, Lomax?
LOMAX (alarmed). I'm sure I——
JABEZ. Yes, yes. I'm not thinking of cutting you down, Lomax. Only, one has to fix a limit. You might bear that in mind.
LOMAX. Yes, sir.
JABEZ. That will do then. (Lomax turns to go.) Oh, by the way, is Mr. Charles in his room? Lomax. I think so, sir.
JABEZ. You might ask him to step this way. Lomax. Yes, sir.
(Exit Lomax, r.c. Jabez opens a side drawer in his desk, takes out a cigar box, selects and lights a cigar, and goes to fireplace and turns back to fire with the air of a man who, having done a good mornings work, may legitimately permit himself some reward. Enter Charlie, r.c.)
JABEZ. Good morning, Charlie. Hope you slept well.
CHARLIE. Good morning. Can't say I did.
JABEZ. You'll soon get over that. At your age a night's rest more or less makes no difference. Did I interrupt some particularly promising experiment?
CHARLIE. No. I haven't been experimenting to-day. I've been engaged with some of the men.
JABEZ. Really? Well, there's no accounting for tastes. You're a queer fish.
CHARLIE. You didn't send for me to tell me that, I suppose?
JABEZ (blowing smoke and watching it rise). Eh? No, I suppose I didn't. Have a cigar?
CHARLIE. No thanks.
JABEZ. No? Well, now that you've come to your senses the thing is to see about what arrangements we must make. To begin with, I think we'd better fix you up a desk in here.
CHARLIE' (wearily). Yes.
JABEZ. We'll have that table out and one put there. Or is that too near the fire for you?
CHARLIE. Oh, anywhere.
JABEZ. You see, you'll have to work under my supervision at first and then begin gradually to take the responsibility off my shoulders. I shall be glad of a rest, Charlie.
CHARLIE. Don't you think you are taking a good deal for granted?
JABEZ. Why?
CHARLIE. I told you I'd not slept. A man can do a lot of thinking in eight hours.
JABEZ. What, you mean to say——
CHARLIE. That I've thought the whole thing over.
JABEZ. Well?
CHARLIE. It's not good enough. It's—it's dishonourable.
JABEZ (angrily). Dishonourable, sir? What the devil do you mean?
CHARLIE. I'm the only bulwark the men have. If I marry Rosie—sell myself to you—it means pushing the men back into their old places just when they're ready to make some show of fighting and want all the help I can give them.
JABEZ. For God's sake do leave the men out of it for one moment. It's you I'm talking about, not them. You gave me your word last night.
CHARLIE. I know I did.
JABEZ (sneeringly) You needn't talk so much about honour.
CHARLIE. Oh, there are things I value more than an empty phrase. That lift accident made me realize once again how much I'm needed and how little I could do if I married Rosie. I've seen Mrs. Wilcock this morning. Oh, it's pitiful!
JABEZ. Now, could I help the lift breaking down?
CHARLIE. No, but you could help a hundred other things happening, only safety apparatus costs money and men are cheap. Last night's accident was only the last straw. The men need me and I won't forsake them.
JABEZ. Who's asking you to forsake them? I'm only asking you to carry out your engagement. Good heavens, it's a chance any man in his senses would jump at.
CHARLIE. I'm sorry I don't agree.
JABEZ. You play fast and loose with me, my lad, and I'll ruin your father for it. Don't forget that.
CHARLIE. Look here, suppose I let you force my hand. Suppose I married Rosie under compulsion, what sort of a time do you fancy she'd have? What's to prevent me taking it out of you by cruelty to the daughter you love?
JABEZ (recovering his temper). No you don't, my boy. It's very clever of you. Upon my word, I'm glad to hear you talk like that. After all, you've the makings of a business man about you, but I'm too old a bird to be caught by a bluff like that. You know very well you're talking through your hat. You couldn't do it. Besides, even if I wasn't sure of you I'm sure of Rosie. I'm a long way more frightened for you than I am for her, my boy. She's managed me all her life, and if there's going to be any bullying when you're married, take my word, it's not you that'll do it. You see, I know Rosie.
CHARLIE. Very well then. You compel me to take other measures.
JABEZ. What, still fighting? You're getting quite pugnacious, Charlie. (Crossing to cupboard l. and unlocking it.)
CHARLIE. Don't laugh at me. I won't be laughed at.
JABEZ. Then don't make yourself ridiculous, my boy. Every man feels like you do when he's booked his passage. But most of us have it out with ourselves. We don't talk about it, but we all get a fit of funk and want to back out if we can. It's a natural reaction. Come, pull yourself together, Charlie. Have a whisky and soda. (He takes a decanter, glass and syphon from cupboard and places on top of it.)
CHARLIE (for a moment half laughing at himself). You make very certain that I'm not an embryonic wife-beater.
JABEZ (with the decanter in his hand). You won't?
CHARLIE. No thanks. (Jabez mixes a drink for himself.)
JABEZ (meditatively). Yes, I think a desk will do very well in place of that table.
CHARLIE. I refuse to sit at it.
JABEZ. Oh, I don't think so. (Walking up with drink and sitting l. of fire, putting glass on mantel.) You see, Charlie, your father's so very respectable; he simply radiates respectability. Gad, I shall never forget old John's face when he was up in town with me for the first time and I took him to the Empire. He got used to it later on, though. But it's different down here. He's the champion bazaar opener of the district. Quite a great man in his way is old John. Yes, we can't have a scandal, Charlie. It really would not do.
CHARLIE. You must do as you like about that. It's his affair. And anyhow it's absurd to talk of it as a scandal.
JABEZ. He wouldn't say so. How shockingly unfilial you are!
CHARLIE. Possibly. I've myself to look after.
JABEZ. Still fighting? (He takes a drink.)
CHARLIE. Yes. If I can't touch you through Rosie, I can touch you through something still dearer.
JABEZ (sarcastically). And what may that be?
CHARLIE. Your pocket.
TABEZ. What do you mean?
CHARLIE. Oh, you shall know. I'll give you fair warning.
JABEZ (rising). What is it?
CHARLIE. The men. They're not blind. They're no longer the passive fools their fathers were.
TABEZ. Well?
CHARLIE. You were pleased to be angry with me last night when I explained why I undertook laboratory work. I can't help that. My sympathies are all with the men, not the master. If it comes to a fight, I shall be on their side, not yours. You—oh, I don't expect you to understand, but with me altruism is a religion.
JABEZ. A religion! Is that all.
CHARLIE. What more can it be?
JABEZ. My dear fellow, religion is a respectable pastime for Sundays, but it's got nothing to do with every-day life except for parsons and old women In this country, you can be a Mohammedan or a Mormon if you like, but I can't see that it any material difference in your ordinary conduct.
CHARLIE. Can't you? I'm different My religion is a thing I believe in on weekdays, a thing I act upon and live up to as far as I can.
JABEZ. Aren't we getting away from the point?
CHARLIE. The point is the men.
TABEZ. Exactly. I'll have no tampering with the men Charlie, no putting ideas above their station into their heads.
CHARLIE. It's fifty years too late to talk like that. As a matter of fact, I'm going to address a meeting of the men to-night. And I shall take their part. They know it. I've the gifts of the mob orator. (Chuckle from Jabez.) God knows it's a sorry gift to boast about, but it will serve my turn. I can sway a crowd. I've done it time and again in debates.
JABEZ. (Pause, then) Where is this meeting? (Crosses to desk, sitting to face audience.)
CHARLIE. The Assembly Hall. I am as certain as I stand here that I can work my will upon them. I shall advise a strike, and strike they shall unless——
JABEZ. Oh, you've got your price then? (Sneeringly.)
CHARLIE. Yes. It's cowardly, but I have. It's against my convictions, but, as you say, I have my price.
JABEZ. What is it?
CHARLIE. Freedom of action. (Crosing towards Jabez.) Laboratory work and no other and release from the mockery of an engagement with Rosie. (Enter John, l.)
JABEZ. Hullo, John. Good morning. Glad you called. (Charlie goes to fireplace.)
JOHN. Good morning, Jabez. (Crossing to Jabez.) Yes, I called about the monthly accounts. I've got the total here, if you'll sign me a cheque.
JABEZ (grimly). You'd better talk to Charlie about that.
JOHN. Charlie!
JABEZ. Yes. Here he is with a bee in his bonnet as usual. Look at him, John.
JOHN. What is it, Charlie? Wasn't everything settled last night?
JABEZ. Oh, you're not quite up to date, John. We move fast nowadays, don't we, Charlie?
CHARLIE. I wish to God we did. (Sitting on armchair l. of fire.)
JABEZ. The latest is that some fools amongst the men want to strike. Lord knows what they think they'll get by striking, but let me introduce you. John, to the strike leader.
JOHN. Charlie, you couldn't——
JABEZ. Oh, he believes in variety, John, that's what it is. Last night Rosie, this morning no Rosie. The men are the latest love. It's off with the old and on with the new.
JOHN. Don't be hard on me, Jabez. I can't bear it.
JABEZ. I've to look after number one, John.
JOHN (appealingly). Charlie!
CHARLIE. It's no good, father. I can't betray my principles.
JABEZ. And I can't sign that cheque, John. Perhaps Charlie's prepared to be your banker.
JOHN. It means—— (Sitting l. of desk.)
JABEZ. Oh, I know what it means. (Rises, goes c., drains glass and turns on Charlie.) Listen to me, Charlie. I'll have no meddling with the men. That's all over and done with. Understand once for all that it's hands off the men. I'll have no discontent amongst my men. I don't want men who'll think. I want men who'll work. (Down l. to cupboard and putting glass on top of it.)
CHARLIE. To think is to be discontented. Discontent is divine.
JABEZ. Don't talk rubbish, sir. We are told to be content with the station into which it has pleased Providence to place us.
CHARLIE (passionately). Virtue on ten thousand a year! This is your rich man's God, who is at home to you in his church one day a week from 10.30 to 12 and 6.30 to 8. You don't go because you hope to get a little dirt washed off your shop-soiled soul. You go because it isn't respectable to stop away. For six days you serve Mammon, and on the seventh you follow your gregarious instincts and crowd into a church in your sleek broadcloth, and only the effort of keeping a properly sanctimonious expression on your well-fed face prevents you from falling asleep in your padded pew. That's your middle-class religion and your middle-class Providence. Don't talk to me of Providence till you can show me a Providence which provides.
JABEZ, Rank blasphemy, sir. (Going up to Charlie, settling his collar irritably.) Don't talk to me as if I was a nonconformist.
CHARLIE. Nonconformist? No, you conform to everything. You began in a rut and you'll stay in the rut till you die.
JABEZ. A rut!
CHARLIE, Yes, the gutter where you poke in slime for sixpences, afraid to look up at God's blue sky or about you at your fellow-men lest some one else should pick up a sixpence while your head's turned. Oh, you conform right enough. You do nothing else. You conform to Success and Respectability, and they're the stronghold of the Devil.
JABEZ (recovering his temper, sitting down at desk and rubbing his hands genially, looking at John, laughing.) Sit down, Charlie.
CHARLIE. Thanks, I can say all I have to say standing.
JABEZ. Oh, but this is delightful. As good as a pantomime, isn't it, John? Go on, Charlie. It's amusing you and doing me no harm.
CHARLIE. Yes, that's the pity of it. It's doing you no harm. You'll have your dog's day. You'll go on accumulating the money you've no need of because you're in the grip of the money habit. You couldn't stop mobbing your impotent employés if you wanted to. The looting instinct's in your blood.
JABEZ (calmly.) I am doing what I conceive to be my duty, the duty of every man—to make as much as I can by honourable and business-like methods.
My father did it and his father before him. My son would do it if I had one.
CHARLIE. Hereditary money-grubbing. That's typical. It's our idea of progress and self-reliance and thinking things out for one's self. (He pauses, hand on mantel, looking into fire.)
JABEZ (pause). What, dried up? Well, I've let you have your fling. You are like any other child, Charlie. You've been hurt and you're crying, only you put your squeal into words. A child only howls, while the natural impulse of the adult is to curse something or somebody. Have you said all you wanted to?
JOHN. Charlie, for Heaven's sake——
CHARLIE (facing Jabez). Oh, I'd more to say. But that will do. I've wasted my breath, but it's done me good to give it you straight from the shoulder for once. After all, you're not a millionaire or a trust president. You're precious small beer as employers go nowadays.
JABEZ. Oh, so that's all right, and I'm put in my proper place, eh, Charlie? And you've let off steam now instead of to the men to-night.
CHARLIE. That's as may be. I've not done yet.
JABEZ (to John). This fellow's solved the problem of perpetual motion, John. What is it this time?
CHARLIE (taking a small book from his pocket). Do you know what this is?
JABEZ. It looks like a book.
CHARLIE. It is. Just have a look at it. (Offering it.)
JABEZ. I'm not interested in literature.
CHARLIE. This will interest you. (Holding the book out towards him.)
JABEZ. (snatching it and reading the title). "An Inquiry into the Condition of the Workers in our Chemical Industries, by Walter Clavering, M.D." What's this? Clavering? This isn't like what I know of Clavering. I wonder what his game is?
CHARLIE. He hasn't got a game, as you call it. Clavering's in earnest about it. (Going up to fire.)
JABEZ. I'm afraid you're a bad judge of character, Charlie. (Turning over the pages.) What's this? "Illustrated by Photographs by Charles Bunting."
CHARLIE. Oh, yes. I had a hand in it.
JABEZ. You damned young scamp.
CHARLIE. That's an advance copy. The book's not published yet.
JABEZ. I'll take good care it never is.
CHARLIE (smiling). It will be published to-morrow. Here's a proof of a review of it by a chum of Clavering's. This review will appear in a London paper to-morrow. It will tell you all about the book. Shall I read it to you? (Taking a proof sheet from his breast pocket.)
JABEZ. Go ahead.
CHARLIE (reading from the proof as if selecting detached sentences, mumbling a few words between each). "The book bears on every page the sign-manual of sincerity. Its facts are an incontrovertible proof of the inadequacy of our factory law administration to cope with the rapacity and unscrupulousness of manufacturers. A book to read not only with the eyes, but with the heart. The authors has drawn public attention to a festering sore in our midst. The great heart of the public cannot fail to be moved by such an exposure of man's inhumanity to man. Something must be done to counteract such infamy. There can be no delay." (Mumbling, as if looking for a further selection.)
JABEZ. Stop! This is intimidation. It's blackmail. Clavering—you know very well he came to me with some cranky respirator he'd patented. This is his revenge on me for refusing to take up his rotten patent. It's libel. I'll ruin him for it.
CHARLIE. Hadn't you better read the book before you talk like that?
JABEZ. That for your book. (Throwing it in the paper basket.) I'll buy up the edition. I'll suppress it. I'll——
CHARLIE. No, you won't. The publisher happens to be an honest man.
JABEZ. What the devil do you mean by taking a hand in this game? Haven't I trouble enough as it is with the factory acts and their confounded regulations? The men are pampered like lords with their grandmotherly legislation.
CHARLIE. They're poisoned, and you know it. You refused to use his safety device, and he's naturally taken the only course open to him of arousing public opinion and forcing your hand. I was glad to help him.
JABEZ. You young idiot. Can't you see through his game? He wants to make money out of his patent safety respirator. He doesn't care a hang for the condition of the men. If he did, he wouldn't have put the price up by patenting his thing. No, my friend, he wants to do his philanthropy on twenty-five per cent, terms at some one else's expense.
JABEZ (con.). And you fall into his trap like the blessed innocent you are and help him to blackmail me.
CHARLIE. You're wrong. Everybody's not as mercenary as you. You've got so used to expressing every idea in terms of L.S.D. that you can't understand a man's doing anything from higher motives than money.
JABEZ. Look here, Charlie, where do you think I'd be if I took up every notion that every crank brings along to me? The men are insured, aren't they?
CHARLIE. Yes, and a bad bargain the insurance people have of it.
JABEZ. Then what do the fellows want with safety devices? They get their compensation. The business won't stand more expense, Charlie. You'd know that if you'd done as I wished and taken an interest in the management. Goodness knows it's hard enough to get profits as it is.
CHARLIE. Then don't try. Close down.
JABEZ. And throw the men out of work? Fine remedy that 'ud be. They'd thank me for that, wouldn't they? (After a slight pause, rising.) That doctor's got to be muzzled though.
CHARLIE. You can't muzzle a man. You can only muzzle dogs.
JABEZ. Can't I? I'll bet you I get him to suppress that book if it's really dangerous. I'll have a look at it in a moment. And I'll tell you something more, my lad. If I catch you meddling with the men, I'll make your father sit up for it.
CHARLIE. I shall address the men to-night. Jabez. I don't think you will. Look here, John, you'd better try again. See if you can't make a better job of it than you did last night, and I'll sign the cheque in the morning. If not—— (John makes a gesture of appeal to Charlie.)
CHARLIE. It's no good, father.
JABEZ. I leave it with you, John. Take him off to your laboratory, Charlie, and talk it over. (Charlie drops forward to John.)
CHARLIE. Come along, Dad.
(Exeunt Charlie and John, r.c. Jabez loosens his collar mechanically, puts his hands in his pockets, takes a handful of coins from one pocket, rolls it in his hands and transfers it to the other; then sits at his desk, takes up the speaking tube, blows and speaks through it.)
JABEZ. Just telephone to Dr. Clavering and say I'll be obliged if he will step round here and see me at once.
(He replaces the tube. Jabez takes the book from the paper basket and turns its pages over while speaking to Lomax. Enter Lomax, r.c.)
JABEZ. Oh, about that accident last night, Lomax. (Looks up from the book and turns round on his chair to face Lomax.)
LOMAX. Yes, sir. I was coming to you about it when you were disengaged. Mrs. Wilcock is waiting in the office.
JABEZ. Who's Mrs. Wilcock? The widow?
LOMAX. Yes.
JABEZ. Oh, I can't be bothered with her. That's the insurance people's job. Send her away. (Lomax bows and is going l., he turns as Jabez rises, crosses to fire and speaks again.) Have you—do you happen to have heard what the men make of the accident?
LOMAX. No, sir. That is, not'exactly.
JABEZ. Speak up, man. Are they grumbling?
LOMAX (coughing). I understand that there have been a few remarks passed.
JABEZ. Strong ones, eh? Um—— Got your notebook?
LOMAX. No, sir. I'll—— (Turning towards door l.)
JABEZ. Never mind. Sit down here. (Lomax sits in Jabez's chair.) Write. (Lomax bends to write.) Wait a moment. (Lomax looks up.) When's the inquest fixed for?
LOMAX. Wednesday, sir.
JABEZ. That's the 17th. Funeral the next day, I suppose?
LOMAX. Yes, sir.
JABEZ. Very well. (Motioning him to write. Lomax bends over and writes. Jabez crosses to desk and stands over Lomax, dictating.)
"In view of the distressing accident which occurred last night, it has been decided to grant a halfholiday to the entire staff with full pay on the afternoon of the 18th inst., in order——"
LOMAX. One moment, sir.
JABEZ. Got that?
LOMAX. "The 18th inst." Yes, sir.
JABEZ. "In order to give all an opportunity of attending the funeral ceremony." Finished?
LOMAX (pause, then, rising). Yes, sir.
JABEZ (crossing hack to fire). Do you chance to know, Lomax, if there happens to be a football match that afternoon?
LOMAX (coughing deprecatorily). I don't follow the sport myself, but I fancy it's the usual mid-week day.
JABEZ. Ah. Have twenty copies of that notice typed and bring them here. I'll sign them myself. Then send them out to the departments, and—er—you might see that one comes in the way of the reporters at the inquest.
LOMAX. Yes, sir. (Going.)
JABEZ (sitting). Oh, and,'Lomax! (Lomax turns at door.) Just mention casually to one or two of the foremen that attendance at the funeral is not compulsory. No names will be taken. And let me know if you happen to learn how the announcement is received.
LOMAX. Certainly, sir.
JABEZ. That will do.
(Exit Lomax, l. Jabez continues interested in his book. A whistle at the tube. Jabez replies and puts it to his ear, then speaks down it.)
JABEZ. Show Dr. Clavering in here. (Replaces tube. Presently Dowden opens the door l. and Dr. Clavering enters. Dowden closes the door after him and goes without speaking. Jabez rises and meets Clavering genially.)
JABEZ. Ah, come in, doctor. I'm glad you were able to come so quickly. (They shake hands.)
CLAVERING. I'd just got in when your message came, so I was able to come at once. How are you, Mr. Thompson?
JABEZ. Eh? (Surprised at the professional tone.)
Oh, I'm all right. There's never anything the matter with me.
CLAV. Oh, it's not yourself, then. I understood you wished to see me personally. Is there another accident case?
JABEZ. Oh, no, there's nothing wrong. Er—have you a few moments to spare? I'd like a word with you.
CLAV. I'm at your service unless I'm telephoned for from the surgery.
JABEZ. Sit down, doctor.
CLAV. (sitting r. of fire), Thank you.
JABEZ (sitting l. of fire). I understand you've been writing a book, Dr. Clavering?
CLAV. Oh, that's it, is it? You've heard from my collaborator?
JABEZ. Your collaborator?
CLAV. Mr. Bunting.
JABEZ. Oh, yes, of course. Just so. Now, speaking as a business man, doctor, I suppose you'd some object in writing that book?
CLAV. (grimly). I want better conditions for chemical workers.
JABEZ. I said "speaking as a business man."
CLAV. Well, sir?
JABEZ. I've not read the book yet. But I suppose I shan't be wrong in assuming it deals largely with the advantages of the Clavering patent respirator.
CLAV. Naturally.
JABEZ. I thought so. Of course, you're convinced of its advantages?
CLAV. I use it myself. So does Mr. Bunting in his laboratory. Look at us. We're well. Then look at your men. They don't use it. I'd just come from seeing another of them when I got your message.
That man is being slowly poisoned to earn his bread. It's a typical case.
JABEZ. It's' very sad, very sad. Well now, doctor, can you propose anything?
CLAV. I can propose the respirator. It's not ideal, I don't pretend it is—but it 'ull give the poor devils a chance.
JABEZ. We must certainly have the respirator.
CLAV. (surprised,). You refused it when it was offered you.
JABEZ. My dear sir, I get safety devices sent me every day. I can't use 'em all. You never told me you used your thing yourself. It makes a world of difference. And you hadn't written a book about it.
CLAV. I see.
JABEZ. I thought you would. Come, we're getting on famously. Now if I adopt the respirator, do you think the book need be published?
CLAV. (curtly). Yes.
JABEZ. Oh, come, doctor, don't be stupid.
CLAV. (pause). I'll tell you what I will do, if you like. I'll wire the publisher to postpone its issue and have a note put in stating that it's been adopted here. But I'll not cancel my book.
JABEZ. That might do.
CLAV. (reflectively). It'll be a good advertisement for the respirator.
JABEZ. And a good thing for the patentee, eh, doctor?
CLAV. I hope so.
JABEZ. I've no doubt of it. So that's satisfactory to both parties. By the way, doctor, don't think me rude if I put a rather personal question to you. I've a reason for asking. Do you consider your practice here a valuable one?
CLAV. That rather depends on what you mean by valuable. It's numerous enough in all conscience. There's plenty of ill-health about. But valuable, no, I can't say it is. Your men get paid too little and they die too fast for a doctor to grow fat amongst them.
JABEZ. I've a notion we might come to some arrangement. I've had an idea of adding a medical officer permanently to the staff. What do you say, doctor?
CLAV. I'll think it over.
JABEZ (rising). Do. With the respirator at work you should have more leisure on your hands for research, eh, doctor? I know what beggars you medical men are for experiments, and you can't have over much time at present. Suppose you telephone me later. We shan't quarrel over terms. Or, stay, come in to dinner to-night? (Rises and crosses R.)
CLAV. Thanks. I will. (Rising and going l.)
JABEZ. You quite understand what this means, doctor?
CLAV. Er—in what way?
JABEZ. Well, it's the end of your literary career. I want no more books.
CLAV. Nor I. This one will put the respirator on the market; that's all I want.
JABEZ. I thought as much. There's nothing like candour after you've gained your point. (Sitting at desk.) Oh, by the way, there's a meeting of the men to-night.
CLAV. So I hear.
JABEZ. I'm going to speak there.
CLAV. You!
JABEZ. Yes, and I want you to come with me.
CLAV. It's not quite in my line, sir.
JABEZ (persuasively). Oh, just to tell 'em about this little arrangement of ours.
CLAV. I see.
JABEZ. Charlie's speaking, you know. Some one's got to speak against him. Er—I'll see it's a handsome salary, doctor.
CLAV. I'll be there, Mr. Thompson. (Moving to r.c. by desk.) May I ask you something?
JABEZ. Yes?
CLAV. Is Charlie still engaged to Miss Thompson? Jabez. I believe so.
CLAV. Oh!
JABEZ. What was it?
CLAV. I was going to ask if I might speak to her myself.
JABEZ. You hadn't much success last time, had you?
CLAV. No. There's no harm in asking two or three times.
JABEZ. Oh, you can ask.
CLAV. But Charlie——
JABEZ. As you say, there's no harm in asking. But understand it's between you and her. You're not to use my name.
CLAV. That's all I want.
JABEZ. I'll see you to-night, then?
CLAV. Yes.
JABEZ. Right. Good morning, doctor.
CLAV. Good morning, sir.
(Exit Clavering, l. Jabez rubs his hands together with a satisfied air. Lomax enters l. as Clavering goes out. He has a number of papers in his hand.)
LOMAX. Will you sign the announcements now, sir?
JABEZ (genially). I will that. (Commences to sign as Lomax hands them to him one by one.)
The same evening. The ante-room of the Assembly Hall—a dingy place, used on occasion as a dressing-room, and containing a small deal table and a few battered cane-bottomed chairs. Two gas-brackets project from the wall at the right and wire netting protects the lights. A door r. gives access and one c. up three stairs leads on to the platform. A rough hat-rack under the left gas-jet bears two ancient bowler hats and a cloth cap. Their owners are three members of the mens executive—Robert Jones, James Pullen and Joseph Livesey. Pullen, the owner of the cap, is smoking a clay pipe. He is a stoutish man of about forty, obviously no teetotaller, with a moustache and an obstinate jaw. Jones and Livesey, the leaders of the strike movement, are perhaps ten years his juniors and just a shade more educated in their accents. All are roughly dressed, but in their evening, not their working clothes. Livesey wearing a very much cut away black coat and a waistcoat adorned with a silver watch chain. Pullen has a scarf and no collar, but the other pair wear celluloid collars over cotton shirts. Pullen is sitting at the table sideways, r. Jones has his back to the fire, l. and Livesey is walking about above table.
PULLEN. What 'A says is this 'ere. Maister Thompson's a jolly good sort. Gives us 'af-day Thursday to play us in, with full brass an' all. 'And-some, A calls it, 'andsome. (He emphasizes by striking his fist on the table.)
JONES. Tha's a fule, Jim Pullen. Tha's allays drawin' red 'erring? across the trail. Tha makes me tired. 'Ere's a mate o' ours walks into th' 'oist same as it might be thee or me an' th' next minute 'e's gone to kingdom come. Thompson gives us an 'af-day off to attend th' buryin' if us wants to, an' theer's thou an' a few like thee ready to lick 'is boots because 'e's yeard us snarlin' an' chucked us a bone to shut our jaws on. Can't tha see 'is game?
LIVESEY (behind table). Oh, A'm noan sayin' nought about that. That were an accident like what might 'appen anywheers. It's th' whole system we want altered.
PULLEN. System is it? Aye, tha find me a system as'll give us more beer an' more easy time to sup it in an' A'm with thee.
LIVESEY. It's not so much for usselves as for our childer.
PULLEN (shuffling irritably). A'm noan wed. 'Ad more sense. If you young 'uns will marry, you mun tak' consequences.
LIVESEY (sitting behind table r. side). The kids! That's the point, Jones. We're ould.
PULLEN (contemptuously). Thee ould! Why, lad, tha were nobbut breeched t'other day.
LIVESEY (turning on him). Yes, we are—we're ould as life goes here. We're done. But th' kids have a reeght to summat better. We canna see our way out. We're nobbut a silly crowd o' fuies.
PULLEN (interposing). Tha are that.
LIVESEY (continuing). But if we could nobbut educate our childer. They'd find a way.
PULLEN. 'Ere, mister, my lad, what's tha gettin' at? The kids gets their schooling, don't they?
JONES. Aye, till they're legally ould enough to coom to work an' forget in a year all as they've 'ad shoved into their yeads in eight. (Spits in fire.) They've a reeght to a better chance than we 'ad an' we can't give it 'em. We're not paid enough. We're livin' on hope, an' hope's like ivy. It clings to ruins.
LIVESEY. That's good. Tha remember yon an' give it 'em in theer in thy speech. (Jerking his thumb towards the door c.)
JONES (going on as though speaking to a meeting). Th' bosses 'ave got us down and they're sitting on our yeads. It's about time we woke oop an' showed 'em the working man's not such a blamed fool as 'e looks.
LIVESEY. Aye. Now tha' talkin'.
JONES. We keep body an' soul together and that's the limit.
(Enter R. Job Alcott, another workman, quite roughly dressed and apparently of the most poorly paid class. He looks ill.)
ALCOTT. Good evening.
LIVESEY. Tha doesn't look so rosy to-neeght, lad. What's oop wi' thee?
ALCOTT (wearily, hanging his cap up, then sitting in chair R. by table). Oh, th' usual thing. You all know. Can't relish my food an' yeadache an' faint feelin'. Rum taste in my mouth, an' all.
LIVESEY. Aye. We all know that taste.
PULLEN. Beer's th' stuff to wash it out o' your mouth. (Crosses to fire and sits R. of it.)
ALCOTT. A saw doctor last neeght.
JONES. Aye. What's 'e say?
ALCOTT (bitterly). Tould me A'd no chance if A went on 'ere. Get soom fresh air for a month or two, 'e says. Get away out o' this into country, 'e says. Country! Likely isn't it? A'm a labourer. Ask off for a month, supposin' A'd got th' brass to keep me which A've not, an' A'll get sack sharp. They've only to send to the next big town an' a thousand poor chaps as is out o' collar 'ull coom trampin' out after my bloomin' eighteen bob a week an' be damned glad to get it an' all.
LIVESEY. Shame!
JONES. It's a cryin' shame. Why, look at me wi' eighteen bob a week same as him, an' the mouths A've got to fill. Ma missus as 'ad eleven of 'em in 'er time. A were wed at eighteen, A were.
PULLEN (quarrelsomely). Tha's never got eleven childer. Don't try to kid me.
JONES. Not livin', A haven't. Some of 'em's dead—thank God.
LIVESEY. Coom, draw it mild, lad. Yon's blasphemy.
JONES (sullenly). No, 'tisn't, neither. A do thank God for it. Poor little beggars, they're better dead nor alive an' starvin' wi' th' rest. A man can pull his belt oop a hole an' suck a pebble if he's hunger-mad. Th' kids can't do that.
LIVESEY. They wouldn't need if tha'd keep off the booze.
JONES (fiercely). A don't drink. A don't like beer. It turns my'stomach. (Up stage round R.)
PULLEN (rising disgustedly and walking away as if from a portent). Call thasel' a mon and don't like beer? (He turns to light his pipe at a gas, but fails to get it through the wire, mutters "Blast," and takes a match out and lights up.)
LIVESEY. Then what dost take It for.
JONES. What for? To mak' me forget. (Going down to sit l. of table.) A must forget soomtimes. A'd go crazed if A didn't forget. (Sitting.)
PULLEN (at the gas), Blast.
LIVESEY. It's a weary life.
ALCOTT (rising and going up c.) It's a hell. Damn Thompson. Damn him an' all that's hissen.
JONES (protestingly). Damn him, aye, but not all that's hissen. That means Miss Thompson, an' she's a blessed angel.
PULLEN (coming forward). Bah! Her an angel, her wi' her 'ard proud mug goin' about as if we was dirt at 'er feet.
JONES. Aye, an angel, lad. That's her; 'ard as nails she looks an proud as Lucifer but tha's not wed; tha's not seed yon wench sittin' i' thy kitchen nussin' thy kids. Maybe she's never sent thee fine grub when tha was sick.
PULLEN. A'm never sick.
JONES No, but she'd know if tha wert, an tha'd know she knowed it, an' all. Not as she maks a fuss about it It's all done quiet. A dunno if Thompson 'isself so much as knows a word about it. Alcott (l.c. at back). Aye, that's reeght. Sorry A cursed 'er. Theer were a two three bottles of champagne an' soom jelly an' stuff waitin to whoam for me last neeght when A get theer from docto? Not a word about who'd sent them, but——
PULLEN. Eh! 'Ere lads, A feels bad. Took sudden, some road.
LIVESEY. What's to do?
PULLEN. A dunno. Thowt o' that champagne, A reckon.
(Enter R. Mrs. Jones—a slight careworn woman of about thirty with pinched features and wears clogs, and a drab cloth skirt, blouse and a shawl over her head, all well worn. She crosses quickly to Jones shakes his should, violently, speaking in a shrill voice.)
MRS. JONES. Thee coom whoam, Bob Jones. Coom 'ome, A tell thee.
ALCOTT. Eh! missus, what's to do? Mrs Jones (turning on him). Thee shut tha ugly mug, and don't put thy spoke in atween man an wife. (To Jones.) Now then, art coomin.
JONES. What's oop wi' thee, lass?
MRS. JONES. Tha knows. A tould thee A'd coom an' fetch thee whoam if tha dared to shove tha nose in at meetin'. Strike indeed, tha great leatherhead! Wait till A get thee to whoam. A'll give thee strike.
LIVESEY. Leave 'im be, missus. Tha don't know what tha's talkin' about.
MRS. JONES. Don't A, ma lad? (Her arms go akimbo.) Maybe A knows more than the lot o' you put together. Ma faither were on strike onct when A were nobbut a young wench. A knows what strikes means. Strikes means clemmin', and ma childer shallna clem as A'd to clem then if A can 'elp it. Now, then, ar't coomin'?
JONES (rising). Leave be. This 'ere's not wimmen's business.
MRS. JONES. No, but it's a woman's business to see as 'er childer gets their baggin', an' it's a woman's business to sit an' watch 'em clem if theer's no baggin' to give 'em. It's you men as does th' silly things an' us women an' childer as pays for 'em. Thee coom whoam an' quit makkin' a fool o' thasel'. (Pulling Jones towards door.)
JONES. 'Ere, missus, see yon door? Well, get thasel' 't'other side o' it sharp. Tha's no reeght in 'ere at all.
MRS. JONES. A've the reeght o' a moother wi young bellies to fill. Tha coom whoam or tha'll get rough side o' ma tongue till tha'll wish tha'd never, bin born. Wait while A get hold o' yon Bunting chap, an' all. A'll give 'im strikes. What does 'e want wi' interferin' in other folk's business wantin' folks to strike—'im as 'as allays gone fed an' warm clothed an' doan't know what clemmin' means? A'll strike 'im, A will.
LIVESEY. Tha don't understand, Mrs. Jones.
JONES. Coom on now. Let's 'ave no more o' it. Outside.
MRS. JONES. A don't stir a foot.
JONES. Don't thee, by gum? (Picking her up.) It's all same to me which way tha goes. (Crossing to door r., carrying her struggling.)
MRS. JONES (as they go out). Wait till A get thee whoam, my lad. (He carries her out. For a moment the altercation continues off r.)
PULLEN. (coming forward and sitting below table l. side). Yon wench is reeght, tha knows. A'm not goin' to 'ave nought to do wi' it. Man an' boy, A've worked for Maister Thompson thirty year an' A'm noan goin' to turn again ma ouid maister at ma time o' life. A know ma place, A do.
LIVESEY. Oh, A've no patience wi' thee.
PULLEN. (Obstinately) It's all reeght, Mr. Livesey. None o' your strikes fur me. A can see through a ladder as clear as most. An' A'll tell thee summat as is mebbe news to thee. Theer's above a few as thinks along o' me, too, only they don't gas about it so loud as you.
LIVESEY. Very well, if theer are, theer'll be no strike. (Going up c. to door. Jones returns a little shamefacedly. The others avoid looking at him. He goes up to c.)
PULLEN. No. A 'll bet theer'll not.
LIVESEY. We'll soon see who's reeght.
JONES. Aye, coom on. Let's be startin' th' meetin'. (Crossing to door c.)
LIVESEY (consulting a silver watch). Wait a bit. Wheer's Mr. Bunting? We canna staryt wi'out 'im. Give us another five minutes. How's room? Open door theer and see.
JONES (opening door c. Confused murmur as of a crowd is heard through it). Pretty nigh packed. They'll noan thank us for bein' late.
LIVESEY. Close th' door.
(Jones closes the door and shuts off the sound, dropping R.C.)
LIVESEY. Tha'd best begin, Bob. A'll follow thee, an' Mr. Bunting can say 'is bit when A've done. Then we'll put it to the vote, strike or no strike.
PULLEN (sourly). Tha's no need to trouble. Theer'll be no strike.
LIVESEY. That remains to be seen. We'll give 'em every chance. No use startin' a strike wi'out weighin' things oop proper first. What'll tha say Bob?
JONES (takes notes from his pocket). This 'ere's what Mr. Bunting give me to say. A'm straight fur striking. Tha knows that.
ALCOTT. Aye.
PULLEN. Well, A say it's noan reeght, Joe Livesey. Tha's goin' to shoot th' mon first an' tell 'im why arterwards. Give 'im a chance. It's th' least us can do. 'E's a real good sort, is ould Thompson.
(Enter r. Clavering and Charlie. They put coats and hats on the rack R.)
CHARLIE. Good evening. Meeting not begun yet, I see.
JONES. We were nobbut waitin' on you, sir. (He looks at Clavering.)
CHARLIE. All right. I met the doctor on the doorstep and brought him along to say a few words.
LIVESEY (to Clavering). Glad to see you with us, sir.
CLAV. (nervously). Er—yes. I'd like to speak to Mr. Bunting first if you don't mind. Suppose you fellows go on to the platform and set the ball rolling. We'll follow.
JONES. All reeght. (A little awkwardly.) Tha'll noan be long wilta? We's none on us much at speakin' on our own, tha knows.
CHARLIE (reassuringly). Don't be afraid of me, I'll do the talking. If the men don't strike, it won't be my fault..
LIVESEY. That's the ticket. (Passing to door c.)
ALCOTT. Give it 'em hot, sir. (Following him.)
JONES. It will mean a lot coomin' from thee. (Following.)
CHARLIE. We'll do our best, both of us.
(Exeunt c. Livesey, Alcott and Jones. A burst of cheering is heard, then Jones closes the door.)
PULLEN. (following the others, stopping before Charlie) If this not above takin' a bit o' advice from me, Maister Banting, tha'll be careful what tha says about striking. Theer's me an' a good few others as 'ave put our yeads together, and we're gom to see as this business o' striking gets no forrader.
CHARLIE. (surprised). What's this? (Clavering paces about impatiently.)
PULLEN. We don't want no strike. If us wants brass, let's ask un for it fair an' straight. Striking's not th' square thing.
CHARLIE (roused and speaking passionately). Are you blind, man? Is Thompson straight with you. Do you expect a bloated bigwig of the British belly class to give you your rights before you force him into it? (Clavering makes a gesture of despair.) In the whole history of industrial employment have employers ever given employés their rights until they were forced to? (Clavering tries to cheek the stream in vain.) They tell you of humane legislation, of factory acts and sanitary regulations. Humane legislation! What was it but the capitalist ruling classes giving way inch by inch before the pressure of the masses?
(Clavering puts his hand on Charlie s shoulder. Pullen has been retreating step by step before the flow of eloquence and now stands cornered and unaole to escape in the left hand corner. Charlie swings round irritably on Clavering.)
CHARLIE. What's the matter?
CLAV. (soothingly). Yes, yes, yes, old man. Keep all that for in there. (Nodding at door c.) Don t waste it on the desert air of an ante-room. Let Pullen go. I want to talk to you.
PULLEN. Aye. Soom one 'ad best talk to 'im if 'e means to go on that gait in theer.
CLAV. (impatiently). Yes. All right, my man. Won't you go on to the platform now?
PULLEN. Aye. (Crossing.) A'm going. (He opens the door c. Livesey is heard speaking inside.)
LIVESEY (off, c., his back visible to audience as he stands speaking). Comrades, a strike is a terrible thing. Do not let us mak' light o' it. When we call on you to decide whether to strike or not——————- (With a gesture of disgust and a muttered "Yah," Pullen goes out c. and closes the door behind him.)
CHARLIE. Thank goodness they're not all that type—pig-headed, beery lout. Now, old man, I suppose you want to talk about our speeches. It's no good both saying the same thing. .
CLAV. There's no fear of my saying the same as you.
CHARLIE. Oh, I don't know. It's as well to have a plan. (Breaking off in a kind of exultation.) Oh, Clavering, Clavering, isn't it great? This is my night, my night of nights. Tell me I deserve it, old chap. Haven't I worked for it? It's been no joke to wake those fellows up from their lethargy, their ignorance, their ridiculous submission. But I did it, I alone. Oh, you've done something—the book—but you left me the men. That was what I wanted. They were mine. How I argued, wrestled, fought with them till they saw the truth, till I lighted up their dull intelligence and fanned the spark till it became the flame that this night's work shall cause to blaze and demolish! (Clavering stands in a noncommittal attitude, but Charlie does not note his detachment.) You mustn't grudge it me, Clavering. It's my night of triumph, the culminating point of all my efforts. I haven't a doubt in me. I'm so right, so utterly right. Nothing can stand before me now. They've tried to stop me—my father, Thompson—and they've failed. Truth must out. There must be justice at all costs, Clavering, at all costs. This is the dawn of a new era for Thompson's men. Congratulate me, my ally! Oh, but I don't want your help. It's kind of you to come, but tonight I need no aid. I'm strong. I could sweep them off their feet in there. But yes, you must come with me. Come, let us go. (Clutching Clavering as if to carry him bodily in.)
CLAV. (eluding him). Not yet.
CHARLIE (astonished). Why not?
CLAV. I cannot come with you.
CHARLIE. But why? We've the same ideas about these things.
CLAV. (significantly). We had.
CHARLIE (puzzled). We had? What do you mean?
CLAV. Don't be angry with me. I've been thinking over the thing and—well—things have been happening.
CHARLIE. You don't—no, it can't be true—I can't believe it. You! The book! (Realizing it.) Good God, he's bought you off.
CLAV. (firmly). The book's all right and I don't allow such language, Charlie.
CHARLIE (bitterly). I could have staked my life on your sincerity. I—I hope you got a good price for your silence, Dr. Clavering.
CLAV. Don't be a fool. I tell you I'm not going to be silent. The book will appear right enough, and there'll be a note in it to say that the respirator's in use at Thompson's works.
CHARLIE (staggered). What!
CLAV. Yes. Come, now, haven't we got what we wanted? Isn't it worth while to be bribed?
CHARLIE (recovering himself). Not by that man.
CLAV. Oh, you're an extremist. (Crossing over to fire.)
CHARLIE. Yes, where Thompson's concerned I am. (By door c.)
CLAV. Well, I'm not. His way's only relatively bad and if he adopts the respirator—
CHARLIE (interrupting). His way is the way of the slave-driver. He trades in the lives of men.
CLAV. Oh, rot, man. You're drunk with words.
CHARLIE (laughing bitterly). You're defending your last ditch now. You can't refute me; you can only revile, and the average coalheaver could give you points at that.
CLAV. That doesn't get us much further.
CHARLIE. Well, it doesn't matter much. After all, you're only one more against me, and I'm not afraid. Nothing can stand in my path to-night. I didn't feel the need for you. I can do without your speaking, Dr. Clavering.
CLAV. Oh, I'm going to speak. Mr. Thompson asked me to speak.
CHARLIE. (Controlling himself visibly). What are you going to say?
CLAV. I've to tell them I'm appointed medical officer at the works. That means free doctoring for the men. (Cynically.) They didn't often pay me anyhow, but it's officially free now instead of being a private benevolence of mine.
CHARLIE. Yes, he's bought you by the respirator and made you his creature by offering you a salary; (Bitterly.) And I thought you were an honest man!
CLAV. (quietly). I've got to look after myself like everybody else.
(Enter John r., palpably agitated and panting.)
JOHN (seeing Charlie). Thank God I'm in time.
CHARLIE (coldly). In time for what?
JOHN. To stop you. You've not spoken yet, have you?
CHARLIE. No, but you'll not stop me.
JOHN. Dr. Clavering, tell him he mustn't. You're his friend, he'll listen to you. Won't you help me to stop this folly?
CLAV. I can't, Mr. Bunting. You can't cork up Niagara.
JOHN (distractedly). Charlie, remember what this means to me. Jabez will have no mercy if you incite his men to rebel against him. Think of your father, my boy.
(Clavering with a shrug strolls to the hack and stands aloof.)
CHARLIE. I can't betray my principles even to save you, whatever other people can do when it suits their interests. (With a backward glance at Clavering, who smiles cynically.)
JOHN (pitiably). You're throwing away my life. I can't face the disgrace, Charlie.
CHARLIE (firmly). Nevertheless, I must speak. (Going up l.c. by c. doors.)
JOHN. For mercy's sake, be reasonable.
CHARLIE (Hotly) Reasonable! What do you mean by "reasonable"? That I should put your petty pride before the health and wellbeing of scores of men and women. No, father, I can't be "reasonable." I've nailed my colours to the mast and I shall speak—speak as I've never spoken yet, speak with all my heart and soul. I've to fight Thompson in there, Thompson and his renegade, this turncoat, Clavering, and I shall fight to win. Right is with me and I'm not afraid to fight without the gloves. (He goes off c. in a kind of frenzied exultation. A burst of cheering greets him cut off by his closing the door.)
CLAV. (sneeringly). Melodramatic ass!
JOHN (sinking into a chair r. of table, and burying his face in his hands on the table). What shall I do? What shall I do?
CLAV. Umph! It's a pity he's too big an infant to have some sense whipped into him, Mr. Bunting.
JOHN. Don't mock an old man's ruin.
(Enter r. Rose and then Jabez.)
JABEZ (briskly). Oh, here you are, Clavering. Sit down, Rosie. Dirty hole it is. I can't think why on earth you insisted on coming here. (Clavering dusts a chair R. with his hand and places it for her.)
ROSIE. Thanks. (To Jabez.) Of course I came. I couldn't stay away. I had to know what happened, and I knew you'd never tell me. (Jabez snorts and looks round, seeing John, who had again sunk his face wrapt up in his misery. Clavering shuts the door which Jabez had left open. John rises and approaches Jabez appealingly. Jabez sees him with surprise.)
JABEZ. Hullo, John.
JOHN (rising). Jabez, for pity's sake.
JABEZ (impatiently). Oh, I've no time to waste now, John, (John goes l. and leans head on mantelpiece.) I'll see you later. (To Clavering). I suppose Charlie's on his hind legs by now? (Up to c. doors.)
CLAV. Yes. That's the platform entrance. (He crosses to it.)
JABEZ. Wait a bit. Don't go yet. (Clavering stops.) Open the door and let's listen to him. (Clavering opens doors, disclosing Charlie's hack as he stands speaking on platform.)
CHARLIE (off, c.). Your trade's dangerous. You don't make old bones. If you're not poisoned by fumes at forty, you're chucked on the scrap heap because you're no longer strong enough to work. Don't you deserve some compensation when you risk your lives every day you work, when you're only fit to work while you're young? Life is a handicap where the weakest starts at scratch and the devil takes the hindmost. (Cheers. Clavering makes a questioning gesture.)
JABEZ. No. Hear him out. (Clavering nods, still holding the door open.)
CHARLIE (off, c.). You're not dogs. You're men. (Cheers.) You want decent homes and a bit of pleasure in life and something to put by for the time when you can't work! How are you going to do it?
LIVESEY (off, c.). Demand higher wages. Strike! (Cries off of "Strike," "More wages," "Vote.")
JABEZ (motioning Clavering). That'll do, Clavering. (Clavering shuts the door and comes down stairs.)
JOHN (putting out his hand in timid appeal). Jabez!
JABEZ (impatiently). Well, what is it?
JOHN. Don't be hard on me, Jabez. I've tried to stop him. I've done my best, indeed I have.
JABEZ (impatiently). Oh, I've no time to waste now, John. Anyhow you'd better come in yonder with me. It'll show 'em you're not of the same mind as Charlie.
JOHN (eagerly). Anything, Jabez. I'll do anything if you won't throw me over.
JABEZ. Well, we'll see about that later. Come along.
(Exit Jabez c., John following. Slight murmurs and hoots. Clavering goes up the stairs, hesitates, then closes the door and turns, looking at Rosie.)
CLAV. Miss Thompson!
ROSIE (coldly, looking up). Did you speak to me, Dr. Clavering?
CLAV. (smilingly). Yes. Mayn't I? (Coming forward.)
ROSIE (huffily). You can speak if you like. I don't undertake to reply.
CLAV. I'm sorry if I've offended you. Won't you tell me why?
ROSIE. You've treated Mr. Bunting very shabbily, and I really don't wish to hear another word from you.
CLAV. Oh, don't say that. I've tried so often to get a chance of speaking to you alone. I've hungered for it, but it never came. Your radiant health stood in the way of even a professional visit. I found an excuse to come last night.
ROSIE. So Alcott's illness was only an excuse. Isn't he ill?
CLAV. Of course he's ill. What does Alcott matter? He's only one more ground up in the mill—and your father sent you from the room because I broke his absurd rule of mentioning a works affair in your presence. I knew the rule, and I risked his displeasure on the chance of seeing you alone to plead my cause.
ROSIE. Your cause was Alcott, wasn't it?
CLAV. My cause was myself. You've not forgotten, have you, what I asked you once before, how I came to you two years ago——?
ROSIE. What do you mean? I think it is you who forget. Must I remind you that I am engaged to be married to Mr. Bunting? (Clavering gets chair r. of table and sits facing Rosie.)
CLAV. Of course I know that nominally you are engaged to him. (Rosie tries to interrupt in vain.) I know how it all happened—an old standing idea between your father and his. But really, really, these family arrangements are out of date. I tell you, Miss Thompson, if I could think for one moment that you were satisfied to marry Charlie, I'd pluck my tongue out rather than speak to you like this. I won't believe it. It's an "arrangement" which suits neither of you. Charlie kicks openly against the pricks. Your splendid loyalty makes you submit in silence. Loyalty and submission have their uses, but you must never let this relic of bygone days survive to wreck our happiness.
ROSIE. Our happiness!
CLAV. Oh, if you want proof of my devotion, haven't I given it to you? I kept my bond. I've let you know of all illness amongst your father's hands, and I've seen that no word of your ministrations reached his ear. You mustn't think of Charlie. He's an inconsequential wobbler. Oh! he sees what he wants all right, but his only idea of getting it is to bash at everything in his way with a battering ram. He can't finesse.
ROSIE. No. I think that's rather fine of him myself.
CLAV. Fine! What good's he done? See what I've done already without your help. The respirator's going to be used and the men get free doctoring. I've done that. I alone. Charlie's only talked about it. Think how much more I could do for the men if I had the help of your influence with your father, if I were—your husband.
ROSIE (rising. Clavering rises). Dr. Clavering, before I was engaged to Charlie you asked me to marry you. You remember my answer?
CLAV. Yes, but circumstances have changed. Rosie. Yes, they've changed. Your proposal then was an honourable one, for I was free to choose, and I refused you gently, hoping to spare you pain. To-day my answer is the same, with this addition, that were I free to choose as I was then, I should choose an honest man, a man who couldn't "finesse".
(Enter John, c. Shouts and clapping heard. Jabez' back seen as he stands speaking.)
CLAV. (recovering himself with an effort). Well, Mr. Bunting, how are things going in there?
JOHN. Listen. Jabez is speaking now.
JABEZ (off c. speaking in a genial way). It is like this, lads. I always like to think of myself as the father of my men. I'm proud of you fellows. The way you back me up when the spying factory inspectors come round is a thing any man would be proud of....
PULLEN (off). We're glad to do it for you, sir. (Clavering whistles softly and looks at Rosie, who avoids his eye.)
JABEZ (off). We're just a big family, and I'd like to think we're a happy-one. But in a big family there's bound to be some selfish lad who's discontented and tries to make others discontented. I'll name no names.
CLAV. (Softly) That's one for Master Charlie.
JABEZ (Off) I tell you I'm a sight poorer in yon hall than you fellows in your cosy cottages. You think you'd like to change places with me. I wish some of you could, and see how you'd like the responsibility of finding work to keep the shop going for a week or two. Damn it, lads, I'm a raven. I know that as well as you do, but I've got to dress up in peacock's feathers and pretend. I'm no end of a swell for your sakes. It's all bluff—it's the way business is done nowadays. Appearances count.
(Cries off of "That's right, that's right." "Good old Thompson!" "Go on." He proceeds with a threat in his voice.)
Many a time I've been that worried over getting in the orders I've had half a mind to shut up shop. Don't drive me too far or I'll do it. Where 'ud you be then? There's enough working men walking the streets. How 'ud you fellows like to join 'em? I know it's not an easy life. (Plaintively.) I'm doing my level best to make it easier. Only to-day I've arranged with Dr. Clavering——
CLAV. That's my cue. I'd better show up.
JABEZ (continuing). To give him an appointment as medical officer to my works. You'll get free doctoring. (Clavering goes out c. quickly, closing the door.)
JOHN (looking at Rosie appealingly). Rosie!
ROSIE. Yes, Mr. Bunting? (Rises.)
JOHN (pitifully). Don't let him be hard on me, my dear. I've done my best. If only you will speak to him. You can always have your way with your father. (He puts out his hands appealingly.)
ROSIE (taking his hand in hers and patting it as if soothing a frightened child). Don't be afraid. Do you think I'd let you two old gentlemen quarrel about nothing? Charlie's father and mine must always be good friends.
JOHN (relieved and almost tearful). Oh, my dear! (Distressed again). But Charlie———(He breaks off.)
ROSIE (encouragingly). Yes?
JOHN. You're not going to marry him after what's happened.
ROSIE. Why, of course I am.
JOHN (bewildered). But—I don't know anything—I thought he'd——
ROSIE (soothingly). Never mind, Mr. Bunting. I promise you father shan't be nasty to you.
JOHN (pressing her hand.) Bless you, my dear, bless you. You don't know what that means to me. (He goes out r., blunderingly. The murmur of great applause comes from c. Rosie looks off c. expectantly. The door opens and the sound increases. Enter Jabez visibly glowing with heat and triumph, Clavering all smiles, and a little behind Charlie, very much dejected. The door remains open and the sound dies down gradually.)
JABEZ. Thanks, Clavering. You did that very neatly.
CLAV. (obsequiously). You'd done the trick before I opened my mouth, sir. (Charlie goes to the back with the evident intention of effacing himself.)
JABEZ (briskly). Well, nothing to stay here for. We'd better be going, Rosie.
CLAV. It's all over but the shouting. (A cry heard off—"Douse 'un in th' 'orse-trough.")
JABEZ (skarply). What's that?
(Enter Pullen c.)
CLAV. Some of the shouting.
PULLEN. There's going to be no strike, sir.
JABEZ. Of course not. There never was the least chance of it. (Charlie stands near door r.)
PULLEN (scratching his head). A dunno about that. A thowt it a pretty near thing at one time afore tha coom in.
JABEZ (confidently). Rubbish, man. Mere talk. Never deceived me for a moment.
(Enter c. Livesey, Jones and Alcott. They look sidelong at Jabez and slink behind to their hats. Livesey goes to Charlie.)
LIVESEY. They're talking yonder o' dousing thee in 'th 'orse-trough, Mr. Bunting. Tha'd best be off whoam sharp. (Gets his cap, r.)
ALCOTT. Aye, theer's none on us lot finished oop what tha might call 'ot favourites.
JABEZ (turning). Oh, Livesey, that you? Shake hands. No malice, I hope? (Livesey puts out his hand shyly, Jabez shakes it cordially, shaking after with Jones and Alcott, the latter of whom rubs his hand first on his trouser leg.) Good night, lads. (Charlie sits r. dejectedly.)
JONES. Good night, sir. (They go out r.)
ALCOTT. (Then comes to Jabez with hand extended. Jabez off-handedly, dismissing him).
JABEZ. Good night, Pullen.
PULLEN (drawing back disappointedly on seeing he is not to shake hands). Good night, sir.
(Exit Pullen r.)
JABEZ (to Clavering). There'll be no more trouble with those fellows. They know they're marked men now.
CLAV. (flatteringly). You do know how to manage them, sir.
JABEZ. It's cheap at a handshake. You might cut along after them and talk to the men as they come out. See what I mean? (Walking with Clavering to the door r.). We can't make too sure of a thing. (Clavering nods and goes out r., lifting coat and hat from rack r. as he goes. Jabez turns and sees Charlie.) Well, Charlie, not sulking, are you? (Claps Charlie on the shoulder.)
CHARLIE (rises). You'd no right to speak, Mr. Thompson. It was my meeting, not yours.
JABEZ. Oh come, Charlie. All's fair in love and war. You can't tell me I didn't give you your chance. You'd done before I went in. Come, shake hands and be friends. You're fairly beaten. Take your gruel like a man.
CHARLIE (Jerking his head up). Yes, I'm beaten this time. But it won't be so always, and you needn't think it will. Ingrained conservatism and a silly tradition of loyalty have won for you this time. You've bamboozled the majority to-night; but to-night's majority is the minority of to-morrow.
JABEZ. Look here, Charlie. Take an old man's advice and give it up. You've had your fling with the men and a pretty hash you've made of it.
CHARLIE. Oh, I'm giving it up all right. You needn't worry about that. I'm going away.
ROSIE (involuntarily). Going away! (She makes a slight move forward.)
JABEZ. Where?
CHARLIE (ignoring Rosie—to Jabez). Oh, I don't know. I'm clearing out of this. I haven't thought where. What does that matter?
ROSIE. But why, Charlie?
JABEZ. Oh, that's as plain as the nose on his face. (To Charlie.) You're frightened of the men. You've been taught to-night that your second-hand, second-rate ideas may look very pretty in a book, but they won't wash in real life, and instead of facing it like a man and staying here to live this down, you can think of nothing better than running away.
CHARLIE. If you're going to insult me by telling me I'm afraid of a few fools whose only idea of argument is physical force, I'd better say good night. (Turning as if to go r.)
JABEZ. You think you've done something fine, don't you? (r.c.) I shouldn't wondor if you consider yourself quite a hero, eh, Charlie?
CHARLIE. No. (Crossing to Jabez.) I'm a man looking for a job.
JABEZ. You won't keep it long if you can't learn to mind your own business.
CHARLIE. My business is Chemical Research. It was you who wanted me to leave it and mix myself up with other matters.
JABEZ. I wanted you to be a rational member of society, sir, not a damned labour agitator and a failure at that. You boasted you could sway a mob. Sway a mob! Why, man, you couldn't sway a child. You don't know the A.B.C. of public speaking.
CHARLIE. Oh, you've a right to boast. Vae Victis.
JABEZ. Yes, vanquished on your own ground, Charlie. You said you'd speak, and you've spoken. A fat lot better off you are too. Now look here, Charlie, you're a young fool, but I've alwrays been fond of you, and I'm ready to take a lenient view of this.
CHARLIE (r.c.). Lenient view!
JABEZ. Yes... I've tumbled to what your silly twaddle really is. You've simply been sowing your wild oats like any other young fellow, only it wouldn't be you if you did things like other people. Most fellows do it over cards or a woman or a lot of women. You've done it over my workmen. And the point is, the point is that you have sown them, that it's done with, ended for good and all————(Charlie turns to speak.) Confound you, don't interrupt. You've had your innings, now it's my turn. You're going to drop your cursed—what's it called?—altruism—and you'll settle down cosily and comfortably with Rosie. That's your programme, my boy.
CHARLIE. To be not only a fool myself, but a breeder of fools! (Rosie turns to fire.) It's no good, Mr. Thompson. I tell you I am going away. I must slip the cable if I'm to have any respect for myself after to-night's work. (Going p. to coat rack.)
ROSIE (turning, quietly). Father, how long is it since you had a cigar?
JABEZ. I don't know.
ROSIE. I am sure it's time you had another. (Jabez takes case out.)
JABEZ. Thank you, my dear.
ROSIE (apparently shocked). Oh, but you mustn't smoke here. Go to the air and smoke your cigar on the step till I come. (Gently manoeuvring him towards the dao? r.)
JABEZ (going reluclantly) But what are you going to do?
ROSIE. It will be all right. You see, this isn't a works' affair any longer, is it?
JABEZ. No. I suppose it isn't.
ROSIE. So it's quite right for mc to speak to Charlie now. I shan't be long. (Jabez goes out r., his bearing indicating that he does so under proest. Rosie closes the door behind him and faces Charlie.)
ROSIE. Now, Charlie!
CHARLIE (trying to escape). I must be going. Good night, Miss Thompson, and good-by. (Holding his hand out.)
ROSIE (ignoring the hand standing with her back to the door she has just closed.) Don't be silly, Charlie.
CHARLIE. There's another door, you know. (Looking c.)
ROSIE. The main entrance will be locked long since.
CHARLIE (accepting the situation.) What do you want with me?
ROSIE (coming forward from the door and speaking softly.) I want to help you.
CHARLIE. I don't want your help. I want to be alone. Can't you understand my wanting to crawl away and hide? Won't you let me go?
ROSIE (sympathetically). I want to help you.
CHARLIE. Your father's right, Rosie. I've made a hash of things. There's nothing left for me to do here now. I've shot my bolt.
ROSIE. What do you propose to do?
Chaelie (irritably). Oh, I don't know yet. Go on living, I suppose. I shan't starve. I'm a qualified chemist. That's worth something anywhere. (Sitting l.c. on corner oj table.)
ROSIE. You're worth more here.
CHARLIE. Here! I can never hold my head up again after to-night. You don't understand what it is I've tried to do.
ROSIE. I understand very well, and I don't quarrel with what you wished to do, but you've gone about it in the wrong way. You were wrong, utterly wrong, in talking to my father as you did. What made you do it?
CHARLIE. I only told him the truth.
ROSIE. The truth! Don't you know that there are times when it's criminal to tell the truth?
CHARLIE. Never!
ROSIE. You won't persuade a man like my father to see the error of his ways by blurting out a bundle of unpleasant truths. You're a reformer in a hurry. You won't realize that his convictions are just as strong as yours and that he is too old to alter.
CHARLIE (With some slight return of spirit) And I'm too young to alter. We've got beyond the point when wisdom was regarded as the monopoly of senile decay. I won't turn back. (Rising from table and going l.)
ROSIE. My dear boy, I don't ask you to. I only ask you to advance intelligently, (over to Charlie, l.) to understand that the odds against you are too great for you to fight single-handed.
CHARLIE (gloomily). You're quite right. I'm a broken gambler. I'm bankrupt for this fight now—bankrupt with no assets. Your father's got them all.
ROSIE. No, Charlie, not all. You've one asset that he'd give half his wealth to have.
CHARLIE. I have? What's that?
ROSIE. You've youth. You can afford to wait. You mustn't throw up the sponge and fly at a first reverse.
CHARLIE. It seems so hopeless to try to do anything here. I thought I'd got hold of the men. Tonight's work has settled all that. I shall never recover my influence. I don't know—of course one never does—but there might be some place in the world where I could be of use. There's just a chance, and I want to try again—to redeem all this. These things mean so much to me—more than anything else in the world. Suffering—poverty—I see them so clearly. Whenever I think of other things, things I desire, my own personal wishes—they get in the way.
ROSIE. And are you alone blessed with eyesight? Do you think me blind? Do you combine your modern socialism with a mediaeval conception of women? Charlie, if the men's condition has been an obsession with you, with me it's been the passion of a lifetime. It's gone near to wrecking my life.
CHARLIE (involuntarily). How?
ROSIE. Because I needed help and I sought an instrument. A woman's handicapped. I can do a lot with my father, but I never dared to interfere openly at the works. That was his territory, and I knew he'd stand no petticoat government there. I wanted a man's help. I wanted you.
CHARLIE. Why didn't you tell me this before? We could have done so much?
ROSIE. Charlie, do you realize that I'd to live with my father? You had your differences with him, but at any rate they were confined to business hours. For me, there was no escape. I lived under the same roof with him, so I'd to do my good by stealth unknown to him.
CHARLIE. But why keep it from me?
ROSIE (pityingly). My dear boy!
CHARLIE. Well?
ROSIE. You, with your passion for the truth!
CHARLIE (a little hotly). Do you object to that?
ROSIE. I like it. But it made it impossible for me to tell you this before.
CHARLIE. Why? (Pause.)
ROSIE. Charlie, if I had told you, would you have kept it to yourself?
CHARLIE. Why should I do that?
ROSIE. Exactly. Sooner or later you'd have blurted it all out to my father, and I could have done no more good, no more little charities, no more small alleviations. What sort of a life do you suppose I should have had if he'd learnt that I had broken through his rule, that I was doing all I could to soften his harsh management and to make things easier for his pecple when they fell ill?
CHARLIE. You've been doing that? How little I knew you!
ROSIE. It wasn't much, but I did what I could.
CHARLIE. What a sweep I've been!
ROSIE. You're going to stay?
CHARLIE. Yes, I'm going to stay. I've been a fool. I thought I hadn't time for marriage. I thought a wife would be a drag. I—I thought myself a tower of strength.
ROSIE (smiling). It had to be, Charlie. A poet always marries a cook.
CHARLIE. You mustn't talk like that. I'm not fit for you. I've played with you. I thought of you as Thompson's daughter, content with him and all he stands for. And all the time I wanted you, wanted you horribly. Only that stood in the way. I loved you while I tried to hate you for what I thought you were. I know you better now. You're going to help me. That's kind, that's generous of you. I need you so much, Rosie.
ROSIE. I'm ready now, father.
JABEZ. About time, too.
ROSIE. Charlie's coming home with us father.
JABEZ. But the men are all outside, they'll all see,
ROSIE. Why shouldn't they? Have you forgotten that we're going to be married on April 25? Come along, Charlie. (She takes his arm and urges him to door. Jabez stares aghast, then follows Charlie's hat and coat.)
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