The Complete Project Gutenberg Works of Galsworthy

J >> John Galsworthy >> The Complete Project Gutenberg Works of Galsworthy


Why! 'Is 'end's out o' breath! Fink o' vet!

LORD W. Great tribute to your eloquence, Mr. Lemmy!

[A sudden stir of applause and scraping of chairs is heard; the
meeting is evidently breaking up. LADY WILLIAM comes in,
followed by MRS. LEMMY with her trousers, and LITTLE AIDA.
LEMMY stares fixedly at this sudden, radiant apparition. His
gaze becomes as that of a rabbit regarding a snake. And
suddenly he puts up his hand and wipes his brow.]

[LADY WILLIAM, going to the table, lifts one end of the Chinese
mat, and looks at LEMMY. Then she turns to LORD WILLIAM.]

LADY W. Bill!

LEMMY. [To his mother--in a hoarse whisper] She calls 'im Bill.
'Ow! 'Yn't she IT?

LADY W. [Apart] Have you--spoken to him?

[LORD WILLIAM shakes his head.]

Not? What have you been saying, then?

LORD W. Nothing, he's talked all the time.

LADY W. [Very low] What a little caution!

LORD W. Steady, old girl! He's got his eye on you!

[LADY WILLIAM looks at LEMMY, whose eyes are still fixed on
her.]

LADY W. [With resolution] Well, I'm going to tackle him.

[She moves towards LEMMY, who again wipes his brow, and wrings
out his hand.]

MRS. LEMMY. Don't 'ee du that, Bob. Yu must forgive'im, Ma'am; it's
'is admiration. 'E was always one for the ladies, and he'm not used
to seein' so much of 'em.

LADY W. Don't you think you owe us an explanation?

MRS. LEMMY. Speak up, Bob.

[But LEMMY only shifts his feet.]

My gudeness! 'E've a-lost 'is tongue. I never knu that 'appen to 'e
before.

LORD W. [Trying to break the embarrassment] No ill-feeling, you
know, Lemmy.

[But LEMMY still only rolls his eyes.]

LADY W. Don't you think it was rather--inconsiderate of you?

LEMMY. Muvver, tyke me aht, I'm feelin' fynte!

[Spurts of the Marseillaise and the mutter of the crowd have
been coming nearer; and suddenly a knocking is heard. POULDER
and JAMES appear between the pillars.]

POULDER. The populace, me Lord!

LADY W. What!

LORD W. Where've you put 'em, Poulder?

POULDER. They've put theirselves in the portico, me Lord.

LORD W. [Suddenly wiping his brow] Phew! I say, this is awful,
Nell! Two speeches in one evening. Nothing else for it, I suppose.
Open the window, Poulder!

POULDER. [Crossing to the window] We are prepared for any
sacrifice, me Lord.

[He opens the window.]

PRESS. [Writing furiously] "Lady William stood like a statue at
bay."

LORD W. Got one of those lozenges on you, Nell?

[But LADY WILLIAM has almost nothing on her.]

LEMMY. [Producing a paper from his pocket] 'Ave one o' my gum
drops?

[He passes it to LORD WILLIAM.]

LORD W. [Unable to refuse, takes a large, flat gum drop from the
paper, and looks at it in embarrassment.] Ah! thanks! Thanks
awfully!

[LEMMY turns to LITTLE AIDA, and puts a gum drop in her mouth.
A burst of murmurs from the crowd.]

JAMES. [Towering above the wine cooler] If they get saucy, me Lord,
I can always give 'em their own back.

LORD W. Steady, James; steady!

[He puts the gum drop absently in his mouth, and turns up to the
open window.]

VOICE. [Outside] 'Ere they are--the bally plutocrats.

[Voices in chorus: "Bread! Bread!"]

LORD W. Poulder, go and tell the chef to send out anything there is
in the house--nicely, as if it came from nowhere in particular.

POULDER. Very good, me Lord. [Sotto voce] Any wine? If I might
suggest--German--'ock?

LORD W. What you like.

POULDER. Very good, me Lord. [He goes.]

LORD W. I say, dash it, Nell, my teeth are stuck! [He works his
finger in his mouth.]

LADY W. Take it out, darling.

LORD W. [Taking out the gum drop and looking at it] What the deuce
did I put it in for?

PRESS. ['Writing] "With inimitable coolness Lord William prepared
to address the crowd."

[Voices in chorea: "Bread! Bread!"]

LORD W. Stand by to prompt, old girl. Now for it. This ghastly gum
drop!

[LORD WILLIAM takes it from his agitated hand, and flips it
through the window.]

VOICE. Dahn with the aristo----[Chokes.]

LADY W. Oh! Bill----oh! It's gone into a mouth!

LORD W. Good God!

VOICE. Wet's this? Throwin' things? Mind aht, or we'll smash yer
winders!

[As the voices in chorus chant: "Bread! Bread!" LITTLE ANNE,
night-gowned, darts in from the hall. She is followed by MISS
STOKES. They stand listening.]

LORD W. [To the Crowd] My friends, you've come to the wrong shop.
There's nobody in London more sympathetic with you. [The crowd
laughs hoarsely.] [Whispering] Look out, old girl; they can see your
shoulders. [LORD WILLIAM moves back a step.] If I were a speaker, I
could make you feel----

VOICE. Look at his white weskit! Blood-suckers--fattened on the
people!

[JAMES dives his hand at the wine cooler.]

LORD W. I've always said the Government ought to take immediate
steps----

VOICE. To shoot us dahn.

LORD W. Not a bit. To relieve the--er----

LADY W. [Prompting] Distress.

LADY W. Distress, and ensure--er--ensure

LADY W. [Prompting] Quiet.

LORD W. [To her] No, no. To ensure--ensure----

L. ANNE. [Agonized] Oh, Daddy!

VOICE. 'E wants to syve 'is dirty great 'ouse.

LORD W. [Roused] D----if I do!

[Rude and hoarse laughter from the crowd.]

JAMES. [With fury] Me Lord, let me blow 'em to glory!

[He raises the cooler and advances towards the window.]

LORD W. [Turning sharply on him] Drop it, James; drop it!

PRESS. [Jumping] No, no; don't drop it!

[JAMES retires crestfallen to the table, where he replaces the
cooler.]

LORD W. [Catching hold of his bit] Look here, I must have fought
alongside some of you fellows in the war. Weren't we jolly well like
brothers?

A VOICE. Not so much bloomin' "Kamerad"; hand over yer 'Ouse.

LORD W. I was born with this beastly great house, and money, and
goodness knows what other entanglements--a wife and family----

VOICE. Born with a wife and family!

[Jeers and laughter.]

LORD W. I feel we're all in the same boat, and I want to pull my
weight. If you can show me the way, I'll take it fast enough.

A DEEP VOICE. Step dahn then, an' we'll step up.

ANOTHER VOICE. 'Ear, 'Ear!

[A fierce little cheer.]

LORD W. [To LADY WILLIAM--in despair] By George! I can't get in
anywhere!

LADY W. [Calmly] Then shut the window, Bill.

LEMMY. [Who has been moving towards them slowly] Lemme sy a word to
'em.

[All stare at him. LEMMY approaches the window, followed by
LITTLE AIDA. POULDER re-enters with the three other footmen.]

[At the window] Cheerio! Cockies!

[The silence of surprise falls on the crowd.]

I'm one of yer. Gas an' water I am. Got more grievances an' out of
employment than any of yer. I want to see their blood flow, syme as
you.

PRESS. [writing] "Born orator--ready cockney wit--saves situation."

LEMMY. Wot I sy is: Dahn wiv the country, dahn wiv everyfing. Begin
agyne from the foundytions. [Nodding his head back at the room] But
we've got to keep one or two o' these 'ere under glawss, to show our
future generytions. An' this one is 'armless. His pipes is sahnd,
'is 'eart is good; 'is 'ead is not strong. Is 'ouse will myke a
charmin' palace o' varieties where our children can come an' see 'ow
they did it in the good old dyes. Yer never see rich waxworks as 'is
butler and 'is four conscientious khaki footmen. Why--wot dyer think
'e 'as 'em for--fear they might be out o'-works like you an' me.
Nao! Keep this one; 'e's a Flower. 'Arf a mo'! I'll show yer my
Muvver. Come 'ere, old lydy; and bring yer trahsers. [MRS. LEMMY
comes forward to the window] Tell abaht yer speech to the meetin'.

MRS. LEMMY. [Bridling] Oh dear! Well, I cam' in with me trousers,
an' they putt me up on the pedestory at once, so I tole 'em.
[Holding up the trousers] "I putt in the button'oles, I stretches
the flies; I lines the crutch; I putt on this bindin', I presses the
seams--Tuppence three farthin's a pair."

[A groan from tote crowd, ]

LEMMY. [Showing her off] Seventy-seven! Wot's 'er income? Twelve
bob a week; seven from the Gover'ment an' five from the sweat of 'er
brow. Look at 'er! 'Yn't she a tight old dear to keep it goin'! No
workus for 'er, nao fear! The gryve rather!

[Murmurs from the crowd, at Whom MRS. LEMMY is blandly smiling.]

You cawn't git below 'er--impossible! She's the foundytions of the
country--an' rocky 'yn't the word for 'em. Worked 'ard all 'er life,
brought up a family and buried 'em on it. Twelve bob a week, an'
given when 'er fingers goes, which is very near. Well, naow, this
torf 'ere comes to me an' says: "I'd like to do somefin' for yer
muvver. 'Ow's ten bob a week?" 'e says. Naobody arst 'im--quite on
'is own. That's the sort 'e is. [Sinking his voice confidentially]
Sorft. You bring yer muvvers 'ere, 'e'll do the syme for them. I
giv yer the 'int.

VOICE. [From the crowd] What's 'is nyme?

LEMMY. They calls 'im Bill.

VOICE. Bill What?

L. ANNE. Dromondy.

LADY W. Anne!

LEMMY. Dromedary 'is nyme is.

VOICE. [From the crowd] Three cheers for Bill Dromedary.

LEMMY. I sy, there's veal an' 'am, an' pork wine at the back for
them as wants it; I 'eard the word passed. An' look 'ere, if yer
want a flag for the revolution, tyke muvver's trahsers an' tie 'em to
the corfin. Yer cawn't 'ave no more inspirin' banner. Ketch! [He
throws the trousers out] Give Bill a double-barrel fast, to show
there's no ill-feelin'. Ip, 'ip!

[The crowd cheers, then slowly passes away, singing at a hoarse
version of the Marseillaise, till all that is heard is a faint
murmuring and a distant barrel-organ playing the same tune.]

PRESS. [Writing] "And far up in the clear summer air the larks were
singing."

LORD W. [Passing his heard over his hair, and blinking his eyes]
James! Ready?

JAMES. Me Lord!

L. ANNE. Daddy!

LADY W. [Taking his arm] Bill! It's all right, old man--all right!

LORD W. [Blinking] Those infernal larks! Thought we were on the
Somme again! Ah! Mr. Lemmy, [Still rather dreamy] no end obliged
to you; you're so decent. Now, why did you want to blow us up before
dinner?

LEMMY. Blow yer up? [Passing his hand over his hair in travesty]
"Is it a dream? Then wykin' would be pyne."

MRS. LEMMY. Bo-ob! Not so saucy, my boy!

LEMMY. Blow yet up? Wot abaht it?

LADY W. [Indicating the bomb] This, Mr. Lemmy!

[LEMMY looks at it, and his eyes roll and goggle.]

LORD W. Come, all's forgiven! But why did you?

LEMMY. Orl right! I'm goin' to tyke it awy; it'd a-been a bit
ork'ard for me. I'll want it to-mower.

LORD W. What! To leave somewhere else?

LEMMY. 'Yus, of course!

LORD W. No, no; dash it! Tell us what's it filled with?

LEMMY. Filled wiv? Nuffin'. Wot did yet expect? Toof-pahder?
It's got a bit o' my lead soldered on to it. That's why it's 'eavy!

LORD W. But what is it?

LEMMY. Wot is it? [His eyes are fearfully fixed on LADY WILLIAM] I
fought everybody knew 'em.

LADY W. Mr. Lemmy, you must clear this up, please.

LEMMY. [TO LORD WILLIAM, With his eyes still held On LADY WILLIAM--
mysteriously] Wiv lydies present? 'Adn't I better tell the Press?

LORD W. All right; tell someone--anyone!

[LEMMY goes down to THE PRESS, who is reading over his last
note. Everyone watches and listens with the utmost discretion,
while he whispers into the ear of THE PRESS; who shakes his head
violently.]

PRESS. No, no; it's too horrible. It destroys my whole----

LEMMY. Well, I tell yer it is.

[Whispers again violently.]

PRESS. No, no; I can't have it. All my article! All my article!
It can't be--no----

LEMMY. I never see sick an obstinate thick-head! Yer 'yn't worvy of
yet tryde.

[He whispers still more violently and makes cabalistic signs.]

[LADY WILLIAM lifts the bomb from the cooler into the sight of
all. LORD WILLIAM, seeing it for the first time in full light,
bends double in silent laughter, and whispers to his wife. LADY
WILLIAM drops the bomb and gives way too. Hearing the sound,
LEMMY turns, and his goggling eyes pan them all in review. LORD
and LADY WILLIAM in fits of laughter, LITTLE ANNE stamping her
feet, for MISS STOKES, red, but composed, has her hands placed
firmly over her pupil's eyes and ears; LITTLE AIDA smiling
brilliantly, MRS. LEMMY blandly in sympathy, neither knowing
why; the FOUR FOOTMAN in a row, smothering little explosions.
POULDER, extremely grave and red, THE PRESS perfectly haggard,
gnawing at his nails.]

LEMMY. [Turning to THE PRESS] Blimy! It amooses 'em, all but the
genteel ones. Cheer oh! Press! Yer can always myke somefin' out o'
nufun'? It's not the fust thing as 'as existed in yer imaginytion
only.

PRESS. No, d---it; I'll keep it a bomb!

LEMMY. [Soothingly] Ah! Keep the sensytion. Wot's the troof
compared wiv that? Come on, Muvver! Come on, Little Aida! Time we
was goin' dahn to 'Earf.

[He goes up to the table, and still skidding a little at LADY
WILLIAM, takes the late bomb from the cooler, placing it under
his arm.]

MRS. LEMMY. Gude naight, sir; gude naight, ma'am; thank yu for my
cup o' tea, an' all yore kindness.

[She shakes hands with LORD and LADY WILLIAM, drops the curtsey
of her youth before Mr. POULDER, and goes out followed by LITTLE
AIDA, who is looking back at LITTLE ANNE.]

LEMMY. [Turning suddenly] Aoh! An' jist one frog! Next time yer
build an 'ouse, daon't forget--it's the foundytions as bears the
wyte.

[With a wink that gives way, to a last fascinated look at LADY
WILLIAM, he passes out. All gaze after them, except THE PRESS,
who is tragically consulting his spiflicated notes.]

L. ANNE. [Breaking away from Miss STOKES and rushing forward] Oh!
Mum! what was it?


CURTAIN






THE SKIN GAME

(A TRAGI-COMEDY)

"Who touches pitch shall be defiled"



CHARACTERS

HILLCRIST ...............A Country Gentleman
AMY .....................His Wife
JILL ....................His Daughter
DAWKER ..................His Agent
HORNBLOWER ..............A Man Newly-Rich
CHARLES .................His Elder Son
CHLOE ...................Wife to Charles
ROLF ....................His Younger Son
FELLOWS .................Hillcrist's Butler
ANNA ....................Chloe's Maid
THE JACKMANS ............Man and Wife

AN AUCTIONEER
A SOLICITOR
TWO STRANGERS



ACT I. HILLCRIST'S Study

ACT II.
SCENE I. A month later. An Auction Room.
SCENE II. The same evening. CHLOE'S Boudoir.

ACT III

SCENE I. The following day. HILLCRIST'S Study. Morning.
SCENE II. The Same. Evening.




ACT I

HILLCRIST'S study. A pleasant room, with books in calf
bindings, and signs that the HILLCRIST'S have travelled, such
as a large photograph of the Taj Mahal, of Table Mountain, and
the Pyramids of Egypt. A large bureau [stage Right], devoted
to the business of a country estate. Two foxes' masks.
Flowers in bowls. Deep armchairs. A large French window open
[at Back], with a lovely view of a slight rise of fields and
trees in August sunlight. A fine stone fireplace [stage Left].
A door [Left]. A door opposite [Right]. General colour
effect--stone, and cigar-leaf brown, with spots of bright
colour.

[HILLCRIST sits in a swivel chair at the bureau, busy with
papers. He has gout, and his left foot is encased accord: He
is a thin, dried-up man of about fifty-five, with a rather
refined, rather kindly, and rather cranky countenance. Close
to him stands his very upstanding nineteen-year-old daughter
JILL, with clubbed hair round a pretty, manly face.]

JILL. You know, Dodo, it's all pretty good rot in these days.

HILLCRIST. Cads are cads, Jill, even in these days.

JILL. What is a cad?

HILLCRIST. A self-assertive fellow, without a sense of other
people.

JILL. Well, Old Hornblower I'll give you.

HILLCRIST. I wouldn't take him.

JILL. Well, you've got him. Now, Charlie--Chearlie--I say--the
importance of not being Charlie----

HILLCRIST. Good heavens! do you know their Christian names?

JILL. My dear father, they've been here seven years.

HILLCRIST. In old days we only knew their Christian names from
their tombstones.

JILL. Charlie Hornblower isn't really half a bad sport.

HILLCRIST. About a quarter of a bad sport I've always thought out
hunting.

JILL. [Pulling his hair] Now, his wife--Chloe---

HILLCRIST. [Whimsical] Gad! your mother'd have a fit if she knew
you called her Chloe.

JILL. It's a ripping name.

HILLCRIST. Chloe! H'm! I had a spaniel once----

JILL. Dodo, you're narrow. Buck up, old darling, it won't do.
Chloe has seen life, I'm pretty sure; THAT'S attractive, anyway.
No, mother's not in the room; don't turn your uneasy eyes.

HILLCRIST. Really, my dear, you are getting----

JILL. The limit. Now, Rolf----

HILLCRIST. What's Rolf? Another dog?

JILL. Rolf Hornblower's a topper; he really is a nice boy.

HILLCRIST. [With a sharp look] Oh! He's a nice boy?

JILL. Yes, darling. You know what a nice boy is, don't you?

HILLCRIST. Not in these days.

JILL. Well, I'll tell you. In the first place, he's not amorous.

HILLCRIST. What! Well, that's some comfort.

JILL. Just a jolly good companion.

HILLCRIST. To whom?

JILL. Well, to anyone--me.

HILLCRIST. Where?

JILL. Anywhere. You don't suppose I confine myself to the home
paddocks, do you? I'm naturally rangey, Father.

HILLCRIST. [Ironically] You don't say so!

JILL. In the second place, he doesn't like discipline.

HILLCRIST. Jupiter! He does seem attractive.

JILL. In the third place, he bars his father.

HILLCRIST. Is that essential to nice girls too?

JILL. [With a twirl of his hair] Fish not! Fourthly, he's got
ideas.

HILLCRIST. I knew it!

JILL. For instance, he thinks--as I do----

HILLCRIST. Ah! Good ideas.

JILL. [Pulling gently] Careful! He thinks old people run the show
too much. He says they oughtn't to, because they're so damtouchy.
Are you damtouchy, darling?

HILLCRIST. Well, I'm----! I don't know about touchy.

JILL. He says there'll be no world fit to live in till we get rid
of the old. We must make them climb a tall tree, and shake them off
it.

HILLCRIST. [Drily] Oh! he says that!

JILL. Otherwise, with the way they stand on each other's rights,
they'll spoil the garden for the young.

HILLCRIST. Does his father agree?

JILL. Oh! Rolf doesn't talk to him, his mouth's too large. Have
you ever seen it, Dodo?

HILLCRIST. Of course.

JILL. It's considerable, isn't it? Now yours is--reticent,
darling. [Rumpling his hair.]

HILLCRIST. It won't be in a minute. Do you realise that I've got
gout?

JILL. Poor ducky! How long have we been here, Dodo?

HILLCRIST. Since Elizabeth, anyway.

JILL. [Looking at his foot] It has its drawbacks. D'you think
Hornblower had a father? I believe he was spontaneous. But, Dodo,
why all this--this attitude to the Hornblowers?

[She purses her lips and makes a gesture as of pushing persons
away.]

HILLCRIST. Because they're pushing.

JILL. That's only because we are, as mother would say, and they're
not--yet. But why not let them be?

HILLCRIST. You can't.

JILL. Why?

HILLCRIST. It takes generations to learn to live and let live,
Jill. People like that take an ell when you give them an inch.

JILL. But if you gave them the ell, they wouldn't want the inch.
Why should it all be such a skin game?

HILLCRIST. Skin game? Where do you get your lingo?

JILL. Keep to the point, Dodo.

HILLCRIST. Well, Jill, all life's a struggle between people at
different stages of development, in different positions, with
different amounts of social influence and property. And the only
thing is to have rules of the game and keep them. New people like
the Hornblowers haven't learnt those rules; their only rule is to
get all they can.

JILL. Darling, don't prose. They're not half as bad as you think.

HILLCRIST. Well, when I sold Hornblower Longmeadow and the
cottages, I certainly found him all right. All the same, he's got
the cloven hoof. [Warming up] His influence in Deepwater is
thoroughly bad; those potteries of his are demoralising--the whole
atmosphere of the place is changing. It was a thousand pities he
ever came here and discovered that clay. He's brought in the modern
cutthroat spirit.

JILL. Cut our throat spirit, you mean. What's your definition of a
gentleman, Dodo?

HILLCRIST. [Uneasily] Can't describe--only feel it.

JILL. Oh! Try!

HILLCRIST. Well--er--I suppose you might say--a man who keeps his
form and doesn't let life scupper him out of his standards.

JILL. But suppose his standards are low?

HILLCRIST. [With some earnestness] I assume, of course, that he's
honest and tolerant, gentle to the weak, and not self-seeking.

JILL. Ah! self-seeking? But aren't we all, Dodo? I am.

HILLCRIST. [With a smile] You!

JILL. [Scornfully] Oh! yes--too young to know.

HILLCRIST. Nobody knows till they're under pretty heavy fire, Jill.

JILL. Except, of course, mother.

HILLCRIST. How do you mean--mother?

JILL. Mother reminds me of England according to herself--always
right whatever she does.

HILLCRIST. Ye-es. Your mother it perhaps--the perfect woman.

JILL. That's what I was saying. Now, no one could call you
perfect, Dodo. Besides, you've got gout.

HILLCRIST. Yes; and I want Fellows. Ring that bell.

JILL. [Crossing to the bell] Shall I tell you my definition of a
gentleman? A man who gives the Hornblower his due. [She rings the
bell] And I think mother ought to call on them. Rolf says old
Hornblower resents it fearfully that she's never made a sign to
Chloe the three years she's been here.

HILLCRIST. I don't interfere with your mother in such matters. She
may go and call on the devil himself if she likes.

JILL. I know you're ever so much better than she is.

HILLCRIST. That's respectful.

JILL. You do keep your prejudices out of your phiz. But mother
literally looks down her nose. And she never forgives an "h."
They'd get the "hell" from her if they took the "hinch."

HILLCRIST. Jill-your language!

JILL. Don't slime out of it, Dodo. I say, mother ought to call on
the Hornblowers. [No answer.] Well?

HILLCRIST. My dear, I always let people have the last word. It
makes them--feel funny. Ugh! My foot![Enter FELLOWS, Left.]
Fellows, send into the village and get another bottle of this stuff.

JILL. I'll go, darling.

[She blow him a kiss, and goes out at the window.]

HILLCRIST. And tell cook I've got to go on slops. This foot's
worse.

FELLOWS. [Sympathetic] Indeed, sir.

HILLCRIST. My third go this year, Fellows.

FELLOWS. Very annoying, sir.

HILLCRIST. Ye-es. Ever had it?

FELLOWS. I fancy I have had a twinge, sir.

HILLCRIST. [Brightening] Have you? Where?

FELLOWS. In my cork wrist, sir.

HILLCRIST. Your what?

FELLOWS. The wrist I draw corks with.

HILLCRIST. [With a cackle] You'd have had more than a twinge if
you'd lived with my father. H'm!

FELLOWS. Excuse me, sir--Vichy water corks, in my experience, are
worse than any wine.

HILLCRIST. [Ironically] Ah! The country's not what it was, is it,
Fellows?

FELLOWS. Getting very new, sir.

HILLCRIST. [Feelingly] You're right. Has Dawker come?

FELLOWS. Not yet, sir. The Jackmans would like to see you, sir.

HILLCRIST. What about?

FELLOWS. I don't know, sir.

HILLCRIST. Well, show them in.

FELLOWS. [Going] Yes, sir.

[HILLCRIST turns his swivel chair round. The JACKMANS come in.
He, a big fellow about fifty, in a labourer's dress, with eyes
which have more in then than his tongue can express; she, a
little woman with a worn face, a bright, quick glance, and a
tongue to match.]

HILLCRIST. Good morning, Mrs. Jackman! Morning, Jackman! Haven't
seen you for a long time. What can I do?

[He draws in foot, and breath, with a sharp hiss.]

HILLCRIST. [In a down-hearted voice] We've had notice to quit,
sir.

HILLCRIST. [With emphasis] What!

JACKMAN. Got to be out this week.

MRS. J. Yes, sir, indeed.

HILLCRIST. Well, but when I sold Longmeadow and the cottages, it
was on the express understanding that there was to be no disturbance
of tenancies:

MRS. J. Yes, sir; but we've all got to go. Mrs. 'Arvey, and the
Drews, an' us, and there isn't another cottage to be had anywhere in
Deepwater.

HILLCRIST. I know; I want one for my cowman. This won't do at all.
Where do you get it from?

JACKMAN. Mr. 'Ornblower, 'imself, air. Just an hour ago. He come
round and said: "I'm sorry; I want the cottages, and you've got to
clear."

MRS. J. [Bitterly] He's no gentleman, sir; he put it so brisk. We
been there thirty years, and now we don't know what to do. So I
hope you'll excuse us coming round, sir.