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+ Project Gutenberg's The Foundations (Fourth Series Plays), by John Galsworthy
+
+ This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with
+ almost no restrictions whatsoever.  You may copy it, give it away or
+ re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included
+ with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org
+
+
+ Title: The Foundations (Fourth Series Plays)
+
+ Author: John Galsworthy
+
+ Release Date: September 26, 2004 [EBook #2916]
+
+ Language: English
+
+ Character set encoding: ASCII
+
+ *** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE FOUNDATIONS ***
+
+
+
+
+ Produced by David Widger
+
+
+
+PLAYS IN THE FOURTH SERIES
+
+
+THE FOUNDATIONS
+
+(An Extravagant Play)
+
+
+By John Galsworthy
+
+
+
+PERSONS OF THE PLAY
+
+   LORD WILLIAM DROMONDY, M.P.
+   LADY WILLIAM DROMONDY
+   LITTLE ANNE
+   MISS STOKES
+   MR. POULDER
+   JAMES
+   HENRY
+   THOMAS
+   CHARLES
+   THE PRESS
+   LEMMY
+   OLD MRS. LEMMY
+   LITTLE AIDA
+   THE DUKE OF EXETER
+
+   Some ANTI-SWEATERS; Some SWEATED WORKERS; and a CROWD
+
+
+
+  SCENES
+
+  SCENE I.  The cellar at LORD WILLIAM DROMONDY'S in Park Lane.
+
+  SCENE II.  The room of old MRS. LEMMY in Bethnal Green.
+
+  SCENE III.  Ante-room of the hall at LORD WILLIAM DROMONDY'S
+
+
+
+  The Action passes continuously between 8 and 10.30 of a
+  summer evening, some years after the Great War.
+
+
+
+
+ACT I
+
+
+LORD WILLIAM DROMONDY'S mansion in Park Lane.  Eight o'clock of the
+evening.  LITTLE ANNE DROMONDY and the large footman, JAMES, gaunt
+and grin, discovered in the wine cellar, by light of gas.  JAMES, in
+plush breeches, is selecting wine.
+
+L. ANNE: James, are you really James?
+
+JAMES.  No, my proper name's John.
+
+L. ANNE.  Oh!  [A pause]  And is Charles's an improper name too?
+
+JAMES.  His proper name's Mark.
+
+L. ANNE.  Then is Thomas Matthew?
+
+JAMES.  Miss Anne, stand clear o' that bin.  You'll put your foot
+through one o' those 'ock bottles.
+
+L. ANNE.  No, but James--Henry might be Luke, really?
+
+JAMES.  Now shut it, Miss Anne!
+
+L. ANNE.  Who gave you those names?  Not your godfathers and
+godmothers?
+
+JAMES.  Poulder.  Butlers think they're the Almighty.  [Gloomily]
+But his name's Bartholomew.
+
+L. ANNE.  Bartholomew Poulder?  It's rather jolly.
+
+JAMES.  It's hidjeous.
+
+L. ANNE.  Which do you like to be called--John or James?
+
+JAMES.  I don't give a darn.
+
+L. ANNE.  What is a darn?
+
+JAMES.  'Tain't in the dictionary.
+
+L. ANNE.  Do you like my name?  Anne Dromondy?  It's old, you know.
+But it's funny, isn't it?
+
+JAMES.  [Indifferently]  It'll pass.
+
+L. ANNE.  How many bottles have you got to pick out?
+
+JAMES.  Thirty-four.
+
+L. ANNE.  Are they all for the dinner, or for the people who come in
+to the Anti-Sweating Meeting afterwards?
+
+JAMES.  All for the dinner.  They give the Sweated--tea.
+
+L. ANNE.  All for the dinner?  They'll drink too much, won't they?
+
+JAMES.  We've got to be on the safe side.
+
+L. ANNE.  Will it be safer if they drink too much?
+
+     [JAMES pauses in the act of dusting a bottle to look at her, as
+     if suspecting irony.]
+
+[Sniffing]  Isn't the smell delicious here-like the taste of cherries
+when they've gone bad--[She sniffs again] and mushrooms; and boot
+blacking.
+
+JAMES.  That's the escape of gas.
+
+L. ANNE.  Has the plumber's man been?
+
+JAMES.  Yes.
+
+L. ANNE.  Which one?
+
+JAMES.  Little blighter I've never seen before.
+
+L. ANNE.  What is a little blighter?  Can I see?
+
+JAMES.  He's just gone.
+
+L. ANNE.  [Straying]  Oh!...  James, are these really the
+foundations?
+
+JAMES.  You might 'arf say so.  There's a lot under a woppin' big
+house like this; you can't hardly get to the bottom of it.
+
+L. ANNE.  Everything's built on something, isn't it?  And what's THAT
+built on?
+
+JAMES.  Ask another.
+
+L. ANNE.  If you wanted to blow it up, though, you'd have to begin
+from here, wouldn't you?
+
+JAMES.  Who'd want to blow it up?
+
+L. ANNE.  It would make a mess in Park Lane.
+
+JAMES.  I've seen a lot bigger messes than this'd make, out in the
+war.
+
+L. ANNE.  Oh!  but that's years ago!  Was it like this in the
+trenches, James?
+
+JAMES.  [Grimly]  Ah!  'Cept that you couldn't lay your 'and on a
+bottle o' port when you wanted one.
+
+L. ANNE.  Do you, when you want it, here?
+
+JAMES.  [On guard]  I only suggest it's possible.
+
+L. ANNE.  Perhaps Poulder does.
+
+JAMES.  [Icily]  I say nothin' about that.
+
+L. ANNE.  Oh!  Do say something!
+
+JAMES.  I'm ashamed of you, Miss Anne, pumpin' me!
+
+L. ANNE.  [Reproachfully]  I'm not pumpin'!  I only want to make
+Poulder jump when I ask him.
+
+JAMES.  [Grinning]  Try it on your own responsibility, then; don't
+bring me in!
+
+L. ANNE.  [Switching off]  James, do you think there's going to be a
+bloody revolution?
+
+JAMES.  [Shocked]  I shouldn't use that word, at your age.
+
+L. ANNE.  Why not?  Daddy used it this morning to Mother.
+[Imitating]  "The country's in an awful state, darling; there's going
+to be a bloody revolution, and we shall all be blown sky-high."  Do
+you like Daddy?
+
+JAMES.  [Taken aback]  Like Lord William?  What do you think?  We
+chaps would ha' done anything for him out there in the war.
+
+L. ANNE.  He never says that he always says he'd have done anything
+for you!
+
+JAMES.  Well--that's the same thing.
+
+L. ANNE.  It isn't--it's the opposite.  What is class hatred, James?
+
+JAMES.  [Wisely]  Ah!  A lot o' people thought when the war was over
+there'd be no more o' that.  [He sniggers]  Used to amuse me to read
+in the papers about the wonderful unity that was comin'.  I could ha'
+told 'em different.
+
+L. ANNE.  Why should people hate?  I like everybody.
+
+JAMES.  You know such a lot o' people, don't you?
+
+L. ANNE.  Well, Daddy likes everybody, and Mother likes everybody,
+except the people who don't like Daddy.  I bar Miss Stokes, of
+course; but then, who wouldn't?
+
+JAMES.  [With a touch of philosophy]  That's right--we all bars them
+that tries to get something out of us.
+
+L. ANNE.  Who do you bar, James?
+
+JAMES.  Well--[Enjoying the luxury of thought]--Speaking generally, I
+bar everybody that looks down their noses at me.  Out there in the
+trenches, there'd come a shell, and orf'd go some orficer's head, an'
+I'd think: That might ha' been me--we're all equal in the sight o'
+the stars.  But when I got home again among the torfs, I says to
+meself: Out there, ye know, you filled a hole as well as me; but here
+you've put it on again, with mufti.
+
+L. ANNE.  James, are your breeches made of mufti?
+
+JAMES.  [Contemplating his legs with a certain contempt]  Ah!
+Footmen were to ha' been off; but Lord William was scared we wouldn't
+get jobs in the rush.  We're on his conscience, and it's on my
+conscience that I've been on his long enough--so, now I've saved a
+bit, I'm goin' to take meself orf it.
+
+L. ANNE.  Oh!  Are you going?  Where?
+
+JAMES.  [Assembling the last bottles]  Out o' Blighty!
+
+L. ANNE.  Is a little blighter a little Englishman?
+
+JAMES.  [Embarrassed]  Well-'e can be.
+
+L. ANNE [Mining]  James--we're quite safe down here, aren't we, in a
+revolution?  Only, we wouldn't have fun.  Which would you rather--be
+safe, or have fun?
+
+JAMES.  [Grimly]  Well, I had my bit o' fun in the war.
+
+L. ANNE.  I like fun that happens when you're not looking.
+
+JAMES.  Do you?  You'd ha' been just suited.
+
+L. ANNE.  James, is there a future life?  Miss Stokes says so.
+
+JAMES.  It's a belief, in the middle classes.
+
+L. ANNE.  What are the middle classes?
+
+JAMES.  Anything from two 'undred a year to supertax.
+
+L. ANNE.  Mother says they're terrible.  Is Miss Stokes middle class?
+
+JAMES.  Yes.
+
+L. ANNE.  Then I expect they are terrible.  She's awfully virtuous,
+though, isn't she?
+
+JAMES.  'Tisn't so much the bein' virtuous, as the lookin' it, that's
+awful.
+
+L. ANNE.  Are all the middle classes virtuous?  Is Poulder?
+
+JAMES.  [Dubiously]  Well.  Ask him!
+
+L. ANNE.  Yes, I will.  Look!
+
+     [From an empty bin on the ground level she picks up a lighted
+     taper,--burnt almost to the end.]
+
+JAMES.  [Contemplating it]  Careless!
+
+L.  Ate.  Oh!  And look!  [She paints to a rounded metal object lying
+in the bin, close to where the taper was]  It's a bomb!
+
+She is about to pick it up when JAMES takes her by the waist and puts
+her aside.
+
+JAMES.  [Sternly]  You stand back, there!  I don't like the look o'
+that!
+
+L. ANNE.  [With intense interest]  Is it really a bomb?  What fun!
+
+JAMES.  Go and fetch Poulder while I keep an eye on it.
+
+L. ANNE.  [On tiptoe of excitement]  If only I can make him jump!
+Oh, James!  we needn't put the light out, need we?
+
+JAMES.  No.  Clear off and get him, and don't you come back.
+
+L. ANNE.  Oh! but I must!  I found it!
+
+JAMES.  Cut along.
+
+L. ANNE.  Shall we bring a bucket?
+
+JAMES.  Yes.  [ANNE flies off.]
+
+[Gazing at the object]  Near go!  Thought I'd seen enough o'them
+to last my time.  That little gas blighter!  He looked a rum 'un,
+too--one o' these 'ere Bolshies.
+
+     [In the presence of this grim object the habits of the past are
+     too much for him.  He sits on the ground, leaning against one of
+     the bottle baskets, keeping his eyes on the bomb, his large,
+     lean, gorgeous body spread, one elbow on his plush knee.  Taking
+     out an empty pipe, he places it mechanically, bowl down, between
+     his dips.  There enter, behind him, as from a communication
+     trench, POULDER, in swallow-tails, with LITTLE ANNE behind him.]
+
+L. ANNE.  [Peering round him--ecstatic]  Hurrah!  Not gone off yet!
+It can't--can it--while James is sitting on it?
+
+POULDER.  [Very broad and stout, with square shoulders,--a large
+ruddy face, and a small mouth]  No noise, Miss.--James.
+
+JAMES.  Hallo!
+
+POULDER.  What's all this?
+
+JAMES.  Bomb!
+
+POULDER.  Miss Anne, off you go, and don't you----
+
+L. ANNE.  Come back again!  I know!  [She flies.]
+
+JAMES.  [Extending his hand with the pipe in it]  See!
+
+POULDER.  [Severely]  You've been at it again!  Look here, you're not
+in the trenches now.  Get up!  What are your breeches goin' to be
+like?  You might break a bottle any moment!
+
+JAMES.  [Rising with a jerk to a sort of "Attention!"]  Look here,
+you starched antiquity, you and I and that bomb are here in the sight
+of the stars.  If you don't look out I'll stamp on it and blow us all
+to glory!  Drop your civilian swank!
+
+POULDER.  [Seeing red]  Ho!  Because you had the privilege of
+fightin' for your country you still think you can put it on, do you?
+Take up your wine! 'Pon my word, you fellers have got no nerve left!
+
+     [JAMES makes a sudden swoop, lifts the bomb and poises it in
+     both hands.  POULDER recoils against a bin and gazes, at the
+     object.]
+
+JAMES.  Put up your hands!
+
+POULDER.  I defy you to make me ridiculous.
+
+JAMES.  [Fiercely]  Up with 'em!
+
+     [POULDER'S hands go up in an uncontrollable spasm, which he
+     subdues almost instantly, pulling them down again.]
+
+JAMES.  Very good. [He lowers the bomb.]
+
+POULDER.  [Surprised] I never lifted 'em.
+
+JAMES.  You'd have made a first-class Boche, Poulder.  Take the bomb
+yourself; you're in charge of this section.
+
+POULDER.  [Pouting]  It's no part of my duty to carry menial objects;
+if you're afraid of it I'll send 'Enry.
+
+JAMES.  Afraid!  You 'Op o' me thumb!
+
+     [From the "communication trench" appears LITTLE ANNE, followed
+     by a thin, sharp, sallow-faced man of thirty-five or so, and
+     another FOOTMAN, carrying a wine-cooler.]
+
+L. ANNE.  I've brought the bucket, and the Press.
+
+PRESS.  [In front of POULDER'S round eyes and mouth]  Ah, major domo,
+I was just taking the names of the Anti-Sweating dinner.  [He catches
+sight of the bomb in JAMES'S hand]  By George!  What A.1. irony!  [He
+brings out a note-book and writes]  "Highest class dining to relieve
+distress of lowest class-bombed by same!"  Tipping!  [He rubs his
+hands].
+
+POULDER.  [Drawing himself up]  Sir?  This is present!  [He indicates
+ANNE with the flat of his hand.]
+
+L. ANNE.  I found the bomb.
+
+PRESS.  [Absorbed]  By Jove!  This is a piece of luck!  [He writes.]
+
+POULDER.  [Observing him]  This won't do--it won't do at all!
+
+PRESS.  [Writing-absorbed]  "Beginning of the British Revolution!"
+
+POULDER.  [To JAMES]  Put it in the cooler.  'Enry, 'old up the
+cooler.  Gently!  Miss Anne, get be'ind the Press.
+
+JAMES.  [Grimly--holding the bomb above the cooler]  It won't be the
+Press that'll stop Miss Anne's goin' to 'Eaven if one o' this sort
+goes off.  Look out!  I'm goin' to drop it.
+
+     [ALL recoil.  HENRY puts the cooler down and backs away.]
+
+L. ANNE.  [Dancing forward]  Oh!  Let me see!  I missed all the war,
+you know!
+
+     [JAMES lowers the bomb into the cooler.]
+
+POULDER.  [Regaining courage--to THE PRESS, who is scribbling in his
+note-book]  If you mention this before the police lay their hands on
+it, it'll be contempt o' Court.
+
+PRESS.  [Struck]  I say, major domo, don't call in the police!
+That's the last resort.  Let me do the Sherlocking for you.  Who's
+been down here?
+
+L. ANNE.  The plumber's man about the gas---a little blighter we'd
+never seen before.
+
+JAMES.  Lives close by, in Royal Court Mews--No. 3.  I had a word
+with him before he came down.  Lemmy his name is.
+
+PRESS.  "Lemmy!" [Noting the address] Right-o!
+
+L. ANNE.  Oh!  Do let me come with you!
+
+POULDER.  [Barring the way]  I've got to lay it all before Lord
+William.
+
+PRESS.  Ah!  What's he like?
+
+POULDER.  [With dignity]  A gentleman, sir.
+
+PRESS.  Then he won't want the police in.
+
+POULDER.  Nor the Press, if I may go so far, as to say so.
+
+PRESS.  One to you!  But I defy you to keep this from the Press,
+major domo: This is the most significant thing that has happened in
+our time.  Guy Fawkes is nothing to it.  The foundations of Society
+reeling!  By George, it's a second Bethlehem!
+
+     [He writes.]
+
+POULDER.  [To JAMES] Take up your wine and follow me.  'Enry, bring
+the cooler.  Miss Anne, precede us.  [To THE PRESS]  You defy me?
+Very well; I'm goin' to lock you up here.
+
+PRESS.  [Uneasy]  I say this is medieval.
+
+     [He attempts to pass.]
+
+POULDER.  [Barring the way]  Not so!  James, put him up in that empty
+'ock bin.  We can't have dinner disturbed in any way.
+
+JAMES.  [Putting his hands on THE PRESS'S shoulders]  Look here--go
+quiet!  I've had a grudge against you yellow newspaper boys ever
+since the war--frothin' up your daily hate, an' makin' the Huns
+desperate.  You nearly took my life five hundred times out there.  If
+you squeal, I'm gain' to take yours once--and that'll be enough.
+
+PRESS.  That's awfully unjust.  Im not yellow!
+
+JAMES.  Well, you look it.  Hup.
+
+PRESS. Little Lady-Anne, haven't you any authority with these
+fellows?
+
+L. ANNE.  [Resisting Poulard's pressure]  I won't go!  I simply must
+see James put him up!
+
+PRESS.  Now, I warn you all plainly--there'll be a leader on this.
+
+     [He tries to bolt but is seized by JAMES.]
+
+JAMES.  [Ironically]  Ho!
+
+PRESS.  My paper has the biggest influence
+
+JAMES.  That's the one!  Git up in that 'ock bin, and mind your feet
+among the claret.
+
+PRESS.  This is an outrage on the Press.
+
+JAMES.  Then it'll wipe out one by the Press on the Public--an' leave
+just a million over!  Hup!
+
+POULDER.  'Enry, give 'im an 'and.
+
+     [THE PRESS mounts, assisted by JAMES and HENRY.]
+
+L. ANNE.  [Ecstatic]  It's lovely!
+
+POULDER.  [Nervously]  Mind the '87!  Mind!
+
+JAMES.  Mind your feet in Mr. Poulder's favourite wine!
+
+     [A WOMAN'S voice is heard, as from the depths of a cave, calling
+     "Anne!  Anne!"]
+
+L. ANNE.  [Aghast]  Miss Stokes--I must hide!
+
+     [She gets behind POULDER.  The three Servants achieve dignified
+     positions in front of the bins.  The voice comes nearer.  THE
+     PRESS sits dangling his feet, grinning.  MISS STOKES appears.
+     She is woman of forty-five and terribly good manners.  Her
+     greyish hair is rolled back off her forehead.  She is in a high
+     evening dress, and in the dim light radiates a startled
+     composure.]
+
+MISS STOKES.  Poulder, where is Miss Anne?
+
+     [ANNE lays hold of the backs of his legs.]
+
+POULDER.  [Wincing]  I am not in a position to inform you, Miss.
+
+MISS S.  They told me she was down here.  And what is all this about
+a bomb?
+
+POULDER.  [Lifting his hand in a calming manner]  The crisis is past;
+we have it in ice, Miss.  'Enry, show Miss Stokes!  [HENRY indicates
+the cooler.]
+
+MISS S.  Good gracious!  Does Lord William know?
+
+POULDER.  Not at present, Miss.
+
+MISS S.  But he ought to, at once.
+
+POULDER.  We 'ave 'ad complications.
+
+MISS S.  [Catching sight of the legs of THE PRESS]  Dear me!  What
+are those?
+
+JAMES.  [Gloomily]  The complications.
+
+     [MISS STOKES pins up her glasses and stares at them.]
+
+PRESS.  [Cheerfully]  Miss Stokes, would you kindly tell Lord William
+I'm here from the Press, and would like to speak to him?
+
+MISS S.  But--er--why are you up there?
+
+JAMES.  'E got up out o' remorse, Miss.
+
+MISS S.  What do you mean, James?
+
+PRESS.  [Warmly]  Miss Stokes, I appeal to you.  Is it fair to
+attribute responsibility to an unsigned journalist--for what he has
+to say?
+
+JAMES.  [Sepulchrally]  Yes, when you've got 'im in a nice dark
+place.
+
+MISS. S.   James, be more respectful!  We owe the Press a very great
+debt.
+
+JAMES.  I'm goin' to pay it, Miss.
+
+MISS S.  [At a loss]  Poulder, this is really most----
+
+POULDER.  I'm bound to keep the Press out of temptation, miss, till
+I've laid it all before Lord William.  'Enry, take up the cooler.
+James, watch 'im till we get clear, then bring on the rest of the
+wine and lock up.  Now, Miss.
+
+MISS S.  But where is Anne?
+
+PRESS.  Miss Stokes, as a lady----!
+
+MISS S.  I shall go and fetch Lord William!
+
+POULDER.  We will all go, Miss.
+
+L. ANNE.  [Rushing out from behind his legs]  No--me!
+
+     [She eludes MISS STOKES and vanishes, followed by that
+     distracted but still well-mannered lady.]
+
+POULDER.  [Looking at his watch]  'Enry, leave the cooler, and take
+up the wine; tell Thomas to lay it out; get the champagne into ice,
+and 'ave Charles 'andy in the 'all in case some literary bounder
+comes punctual.
+
+     [HENRY takes up the wine and goes.]
+
+PRESS.  [Above his head]  I say, let me down.  This is a bit
+undignified, you know.  My paper's a great organ.
+
+POULDER. [After a moment's hesitation]  Well--take 'im down, James;
+he'll do some mischief among the bottles.
+
+JAMES.  'Op off your base, and trust to me.
+
+     [THE PRESS slides off the bin's edge, is received by JAMES, and
+     not landed gently.]
+
+POULDER.  [Contemplating him]  The incident's closed; no ill-feeling,
+I hope?
+
+PRESS.  No-o.
+
+POULDER.  That's right.  [Clearing his throat]  While we're waitin'
+for Lord William--if you're interested in wine--[Philosophically]
+you can read the history of the times in this cellar.  Take 'ock: [He
+points to a bin]  Not a bottle gone.  German product, of course.
+Now, that 'ock is 'sa 'avin' the time of its life--maturin' grandly;
+got a wonderful chance.  About the time we're bringin' ourselves to
+drink it, we shall be havin' the next great war.  With luck that 'ock
+may lie there another quarter of a century, and a sweet pretty wine
+it'll be.  I only hope I may be here to drink it.  Ah! [He shakes his
+head]--but look at claret!  Times are hard on claret.  We're givin'
+it an awful doin'.  Now, there's a Ponty Canny [He points to a bin]
+if we weren't so 'opelessly allied with France, that wine would have
+a reasonable future.  As it is--none!  We drink it up and up; not
+more than sixty dozen left.  And where's its equal to come from for a
+dinner wine--ah!  I ask you?  On the other hand, port is steady; made
+in a little country, all but the cobwebs and the old boot flavour;
+guaranteed by the British Nary; we may 'ope for the best with port.
+Do you drink it?
+
+PRESS.  When I get the chance.
+
+POULDER.  Ah! [Clears his throat]  I've often wanted to ask: What do
+they pay you--if it's not indelicate?
+
+[THE PRESS shrugs his shoulders.]
+
+Can you do it at the money?
+
+[THE PRESS shakes his head.]  Still--it's an easy life!  I've
+regretted sometimes that I didn't have a shot at it myself;
+influencin' other people without disclosin' your identity--something
+very attractive about that.  [Lowering his voice]  Between man and
+man, now-what do you think of the situation of the country--these
+processions of the unemployed--the Red Flag an' the Marsillaisy in
+the streets--all this talk about an upheaval?
+
+PRESS.  Well, speaking as a Socialist----
+
+POULDER. [Astounded] Why; I thought your paper was Tory!
+
+PRESS.  So it is.  That's nothing!
+
+POULDER.  [Open-mouthed]  Dear me!  [Pointing to the bomb] Do you
+really think there's something in this?
+
+JAMES.  [Sepulchrally]  'Igh explosive.
+
+PRESS.  [Taking out his note-book]  Too much, anyway, to let it drop.
+
+     [A pleasant voice calls "Poulder! Hallo!".]
+
+POULDER.  [Forming a trumpet with his hand]  Me Lord!
+
+     [As LORD WILLIAM appears, JAMES, overcome by reminiscences;
+     salutes, and is mechanically answered.  LORD WILLIAM has
+     "charm."  His hair and moustache are crisp and just beginning to
+     grizzle.  His bearing is free, easy, and only faintly armoured.
+     He will go far to meet you any day.  He is in full evening
+     dress.]
+
+LORD W.  [Cheerfully]  I say, Poulder, what have you and James been
+doing to the Press?  Liberty of the Press--it isn't what it was, but
+there is a limit.  Where is he?
+
+     [He turns to Jams between whom and himself there is still the
+     freemasonry of the trenches.]
+
+JAMES.  [Pointing to POULDER]  Be'ind the parapet, me Lord.
+
+     [THE PRESS mopes out from where he has involuntarily been.
+     screened by POULDER, who looks at JAMES severely.  LORD WILLIAM
+     hides a smile.]
+
+PRESS.  Very glad to meet you, Lord William.  My presence down here
+is quite involuntary.
+
+LORD W.  [With a charming smile]  I know.  The Press has to put its--
+er--to go to the bottom of everything.  Where's this bomb, Poulder?
+Ah!
+
+     [He looks into the wine cooler.]
+
+PRESS.  [Taking out his note-book]  Could I have a word with you on
+the crisis, before dinner, Lord William?
+
+LORD W.  It's time you and James were up, Poulder.  [Indicating the
+cooler]  Look after this; tell Lady William I'll be there in a
+minute.
+
+POULDER.  Very good, me Lord.
+
+     [He goes, followed by JAMES carrying the cooler.]
+
+     [As THE PRESS turns to look after them, LORD WILLIAM catches
+     sight of his back.]
+
+LORD W.  I must apologise, sir.  Can I brush you?
+
+PRESS.  [Dusting himself]  Thanks; it's only behind.  [He opens his
+note-book]  Now, Lord William, if you'd kindly outline your views on
+the national situation; after such a narrow escape from death, I feel
+they might have a moral effect.  My paper, as you know, is concerned
+with--the deeper aspect of things.  By the way, what do you value
+your house and collection at?
+
+LORD W.  [Twisting his little mustache]  Really: I can't!  Really!
+
+PRESS.  Might I say a quarter of a million-lifted in two seconds and
+a half-hundred thousand to the second.  It brings it home, you know.
+
+LORD W.  No, no; dash it!  No!
+
+PRESS.  [Disappointed]  I see--not draw attention to your property in
+the present excited state of public feeling?  Well, suppose we
+approach it from the viewpoint of the Anti-Sweating dinner.  I have
+the list of guests--very weighty!
+
+LORD W.  Taken some lifting-wouldn't they?
+
+PRESS.  [Seriously]  May I say that you designed the dinner to soften
+the tension, at this crisis?  You saw that case, I suppose, this
+morning, of the woman dying of starvation in Bethnal Green?
+
+LORD W.  [Desperately]  Yes-yes!  I've been horribly affected.  I
+always knew this slump would come after the war, sooner or later.
+
+PRESS.  [Writing]  "...  had predicted slump."
+
+LORD W.  You see, I've been an Anti-Sweating man for years, and I
+thought if only we could come together now....
+
+PRESS.  [Nodding]  I see--I see!  Get Society interested in the
+Sweated, through the dinner.  I have the menu here. [He produces it.]
+
+LORD W.  Good God, man--more than that!  I want to show the people
+that we stand side by side with them, as we did in the trenches.  The
+whole thing's too jolly awful.  I lie awake over it.
+
+     [He walks up and down.]
+
+PRESS.  [Scribbling]  One moment, please.  I'll just get that down--
+"Too jolly awful--lies awake over it.  Was wearing a white waistcoat
+with pearl buttons."  [At a sign of resentment from his victim.]
+I want the human touch, Lord William--it's everything in my paper.
+What do you say about this attempt to bomb you?
+
+LORD W.  Well, in a way I think it's d---d natural
+
+PRESS.  [Scribbling]  "Lord William thought it d---d natural."
+
+LORD W.  [Overhearing]  No, no; don't put that down.  What I mean is,
+I should like to get hold of those fellows that are singing the
+Marseillaise about the streets--fellows that have been in the war--
+real sports they are, you know--thorough good chaps at bottom--and
+say to them: "Have a feeling heart, boys; put yourself in my
+position."  I don't believe a bit they'd want to bomb me then.
+
+     [He walks up and down.]
+
+PRESS.  [Scribbling and muttering] "The idea, of brotherhood--" D'you
+mind my saying that?  Word brotherhood--always effective--always----
+
+     [He writes.]
+
+LORD E.  [Bewildered]  "Brotherhood!" Well, it's pure accident that
+I'm here and they're there.  All the same, I can't pretend to be
+starving.  Can't go out into Hyde Park and stand on a tub, can I?
+But if I could only show them what I feel--they're such good chaps--
+poor devils.
+
+PRESS.  I quite appreciate!  [He writes]  "Camel and needle's eye."
+You were at Eton and Oxford?  Your constituency I know.  Clubs?  But
+I can get all that.  Is it your view that Christianity is on the
+up-grade, Lord William?
+
+LORD W.  [Dubious]  What d'you mean by Christianity--loving--kindness
+and that?  Of course I think that dogma's got the knock.
+
+     [He walks.]
+
+PRESS.  [Writing]  "Lord William thought dogma had got the knock."
+I should like you just to develop your definition of Christianity.
+"Loving--kindness" strikes rather a new note.
+
+LORD W.  New?  What about the Sermon on the Mount?
+
+PRESS.  [Writing]  "Refers to Sermon on Mount."  I take it you don't
+belong to any Church, Lord William?
+
+LORD W.  [Exasperated]  Well, really--I've been baptised and that
+sort of thing.  But look here----
+
+PRESS.  Oh!  you can trust me--I shan't say anything that you'll
+regret.  Now, do you consider that a religious revival would help to
+quiet the country?
+
+LORD W.  Well, I think it would be a deuced, good thing if everybody
+were a bit more kind.
+
+PRESS.  Ah!  [Musing]  I feel that your views are strikingly
+original, Lord William.  If you could just open out on them a little
+more?  How far would you apply kindness in practice?
+
+LORD W.  Can you apply it in theory?
+
+PRESS.  I believe it is done.  But would you allow yourself to be
+blown up with impunity?
+
+LORD W.  Well, that's a bit extreme.  But I quite sympathise with
+this chap.  Imagine yourself in his shoes.  He sees a huge house, all
+these bottles; us swilling them down; perhaps he's got a starving
+wife, or consumptive kids.
+
+PRESS.  [Writing and murmuring]  Um-m!  "Kids."
+
+LORD W.  He thinks: "But for the grace of God, there swill I.  Why
+should that blighter have everything and I nothing?" and all that.
+
+PRESS.  [Writing]  "And all that."  [Eagerly]  Yes?
+
+LORD W.  And gradually--you see--this contrast--becomes an obsession
+with him.  "There's got to be an example made," he thinks; and--er--
+he makes it, don't you know?
+
+PRESS.  [Writing]  Ye-es?  And--when you're the example?
+
+LORD W.  Well, you feel a bit blue, of course.  But my point is that
+you quite see it.
+
+PRESS.  From the other world.  Do you believe in a future life, Lord
+William?  The public took a lot of interest in the question, if you
+remember, at the time of the war.  It might revive at any moment, if
+there's to be a revolution.
+
+LORD W.  The wish is always father to the thought, isn't it?
+
+PRESS.  Yes!  But--er--doesn't the question of a future life rather
+bear on your point about kindness?  If there isn't one--why be kind?
+
+LORD W.  Well, I should say one oughtn't to be kind for any motive--
+that's self-interest; but just because one feels it, don't you know.
+
+PRESS.  [Writing vigorously]  That's very new--very new!
+
+LORD W.  [Simply]  You chaps are wonderful.
+
+PRESS.  [Doubtfully]  You mean we're--we're----
+
+LORD W.  No, really.  You have such a d---d hard time.  It must be
+perfectly beastly to interview fellows like me.
+
+PRESS.  Oh!  Not at all, Lord William.  Not at all.  I assure you
+compared with a literary man, it's--it's almost heavenly.
+
+LORD W.  You must have a wonderful knowledge of things.
+
+PRESS.  [Bridling a little]  Well--I shouldn't say that.
+
+LORD W.  I don't see how you can avoid it.  You turn your hands to
+everything.
+
+PRESS.  [Modestly]  Well--yes, Yes.
+
+LORD W.  I say:  Is there really going to be a revolution, or are you
+making it up, you Press?
+
+PRESS.  We don't know.  We never know whether we come before the
+event, or it comes before us.
+
+LORD W.  That's--very deep--very dip.  D'you mind lending me your
+note-book a moment.  I'd like to stick that down.  All right, I'll
+use the other end.  [THE PRESS hands it hypnotically.]
+
+LORD W.  [Jotting]  Thanks awfully.  Now what's your real opinion of
+the situation?
+
+PRESS.  As a man or a Press man?
+
+LORD W.  Is there any difference?
+
+PRESS.  Is there any connection?
+
+LORD W.  Well, as a man.
+
+PRESS.  As a man, I think it's rotten.
+
+LORD W.  [Jotting]  "Rotten."  And as a pressman?
+
+PRESS.  [Smiling]  Prime.
+
+LORD W.  What!  Like a Stilton cheese.  Ha, ha!
+
+     [He is about to write.]
+
+PRESS.  My stunt, Lord William.  You said that.
+
+     [He jots it on his cuff.]
+
+LORD W.  But look here!  Would you say that a strong press movement
+would help to quiet the country?
+
+PRESS.  Well, as you ask me, Lord William, I'll tell you.  No
+newspapers for a month would do the trick.
+
+LORD W.  [Jotting]  By Jove!  That's brilliant.
+
+PRESS.  Yes, but I should starve.  [He suddenly looks up, and his
+eyes, like gimlets, bore their way into LORD WILLIAM'S pleasant,
+troubled face]  Lord William, you could do me a real kindness.
+Authorise me to go and interview the fellow who left the bomb here;
+I've got his address.  I promise you to do it most discreetly.  Fact
+is--well--I'm in low water.  Since the war we simply can't get
+sensation enough for the new taste.  Now, if I could have an article
+headed: "Bombed and Bomber"--sort of double interview, you know, it'd
+very likely set me on my legs again.  [Very earnestly]  Look!
+[He holds out his frayed wristbands.]
+
+LORD W.  [Grasping his hand]  My dear chap, certainly.  Go and
+interview this blighter, and then bring him round here.  You can do
+that for one.  I'd very much like to see him, as a matter of fact.
+
+PRESS.  Thanks awfully; I shall never forget it.  Oh!  might I have
+my note-book?
+
+     [LORD WILLIAM hands it back.]
+
+LORD W.  And look here, if there's anything--when a fellow's
+fortunate and another's not----
+
+[He puts his hand into his breast pocket.]
+
+PRESS.  Oh, thank you!  But you see, I shall have to write you up a
+bit, Lord William.  The old aristocracy--you know what the public
+still expects; if you were to lend me money, you might feel----
+
+LORD W.  By Jove!  Never should have dreamt----
+
+PRESS.  No!  But it wouldn't do.  Have you a photograph of yourself.
+
+LORD W.  Not on me.
+
+PRESS.  Pity!  By the way, has it occurred to you that there may be
+another bomb on the premises?
+
+LORD W.  Phew!  I'll have a look.
+
+     [He looks at his watch, and begins hurriedly searching the bins,
+     bending down and going on his knees.  THE PRESS reverses the
+     notebook again and sketches him.]
+
+PRESS.  [To himself]  Ah!  That'll do.  "Lord William examines the
+foundations of his house."
+
+     [A voice calls "Bill!" THE PRESS snaps the note-book to, and
+     looks up.  There, where the "communication trench" runs in,
+     stands a tall and elegant woman in the extreme of evening
+     dress.]
+
+     [With presence of mind]  Lady William?  You'll find Lord William
+--Oh!  Have you a photograph of him?
+
+LADY W.  Not on me.
+
+PRESS.  [Eyeing her]  Er--no--I suppose not--no.  Excuse me!  [He
+sidles past her and is gone.]
+
+LADY W.  [With lifted eyebrows]  Bill!
+
+LORD W.  [Emerging, dusting his knees]  Hallo, Nell!  I was just
+making sure there wasn't another bomb.
+
+LADY W.  Yes; that's why I came dawn: Who was that person?
+
+LORD W.  Press.
+
+LADY W.  He looked awfully yellow.  I hope you haven't been giving
+yourself away.
+
+LORD W.  [Dubiously]  Well, I don't know.  They're like corkscrews.
+
+LADY W.  What did he ask you?
+
+LORD W.  What didn't he?
+
+LADY W.  Well, what did you tell him?
+
+LORD W.  That I'd been baptised--but he promised not to put it down.
+
+LADY W.  Bill, you are absurd.
+
+     [She gives a light tittle laugh.]
+
+LORD W.  I don't remember anything else, except that it was quite
+natural we should be bombed, don't you know.
+
+LADY W.  Why, what harm have we done?
+
+LORD W.  Been born, my dear.  [Suddenly serious]  I say, Nell, how am
+I to tell what this fellow felt when he left that bomb here?
+
+LADY W.  Why do you want to?
+
+LORD W.  Out there one used to know what one's men felt.
+
+LADY W.  [Staring]  My dear boy, I really don't think you ought to
+see the Press; it always upsets you.
+
+LORD W.  Well!  Why should you and I be going to eat ourselves silly
+to improve the condition of the sweated, when----
+
+LADY W.  [Calmly]  When they're going to "improve" ours, if we don't
+look out.  We've got to get in first, Bill.
+
+LORD W.  [Gloomily]  I know.  It's all fear.  That's it!  Here we
+are, and here we shall stay--as if there'd never been a war.
+
+LADY W.  Well, thank heaven there's no "front" to a revolution.  You
+and I can go to glory together this time.  Compact!  Anything that's
+on, I'm to abate in.
+
+LORD W.  Well, in reason.
+
+LADY W.  No, in rhyme, too.
+
+LORD W.  I say, your dress!
+
+LADY W.  Yes, Poulder tried to stop me, but I wasn't going to have
+you blown up without me.
+
+LORD W.  You duck.  You do look stunning.  Give us a kiss!
+
+LADY W.  [Starting back]  Oh, Bill!  Don't touch me--your hands!
+
+LORD W.  Never mind, my mouth's clean.
+
+They stand about a yard apart, and banding their faces towards each
+other, kiss on the lips.
+
+L. ANNE.  [Appearing suddenly from the "communication trench," and
+tip-toeing silently between them]  Oh, Mum!  You and Daddy ARE
+wasting time!  Dinner's ready, you know!
+
+
+                              CURTAIN
+
+
+
+
+ACT II
+
+     The single room of old MRS. LEMMY, in a small grey house in
+     Bethnal Green, the room of one cumbered by little save age, and
+     the crockery debris of the past.  A bed, a cupboard, a coloured
+     portrait of Queen Victoria, and--of all things--a fiddle,
+     hanging on the wall.  By the side of old MRS. LEMMY in her chair
+     is a pile of corduroy trousers, her day's sweated sewing, and a
+     small table.  She sits with her back to the window, through
+     which, in the last of the light, the opposite side of the little
+     grey street is visible under the evening sky, where hangs one
+     white cloud shaped like a horned beast.  She is still sewing,
+     and her lips move.  Being old, and lonely, she has that habit of
+     talking to herself, distressing to those who cannot overhear.
+     From the smack of her tongue she was once a West Country cottage
+     woman; from the look of her creased, parchmenty face, she was
+     once a pretty girl with black eyes, in which there is still much
+     vitality.  The door is opened with difficulty and a little girl
+     enters, carrying a pile of unfinished corduroy trousers nearly
+     as large as herself. She puts them down against the wall, and
+     advances.  She is eleven or twelve years old; large-eyed, dark
+     haired, and sallow.  Half a woman of this and half of another
+     world, except when as now, she is as irresponsible a bit of life
+     as a little flowering weed growing out of a wall.  She stands
+     looking at MRS. LEMMY with dancing eyes.
+
+L. AIDA.  I've brought yer to-morrer's trahsers.  Y'nt yer finished
+wiv to-dy's?  I want to tyke 'em.
+
+MRS. L.  No, me dear.  Drat this last one--me old fengers!
+
+L. AIDA.  I learnt some poytry to-dy--I did.
+
+MRS. L.  Well, I never!
+
+L. AIDA.  [Reciting with unction]
+
+         "Little lamb who myde thee?
+          Dost thou know who myde thee,
+          Gyve thee life and byde thee feed
+          By the stream and oer the mead;
+          Gyve the clothing of delight,
+          Softest clothing, woolly, bright;
+          Gyve thee such a tender voice,
+          Myking all the vyles rejoice.
+               Little lamb who myde thee?
+               Dost thou know who myde thee?"
+
+MRS. L.  'Tes wonderful what things they tache ya nowadays.
+
+L.  AIDA.  When I grow up I'm goin' to 'ave a revolver an' shoot the
+people that steals my jools.
+
+MRS. L.  Deary-me, wherever du yu get yore notions?
+
+L. AIDA.  An' I'm goin' to ride on as 'orse be'ind a man; an' I'm
+goin' to ryce trynes in my motor car.
+
+MRS. L.  [Dryly]  Ah!--Yu'um gwine to be very busy, that's sartin.
+Can you sew?
+
+L. AIDA.  [With a Smile]  Nao.
+
+MRS. L.  Don' they tache Yu that, there?
+
+L. AIDA.  [Blending contempt and a lingering curiosity]  Nao.
+
+MRS. L.  'Tes wonderful genteel.
+
+L. AIDA.  I can sing, though.
+
+MRS. L.  Let's 'ear yu, then.
+
+L. AIDA.  [Shaking her head]  I can ply the pianner.  I can ply a
+tune.
+
+MRS. L.  Whose pianner?
+
+L. AIDA.  Mrs. Brahn's when she's gone aht.
+
+MRS. L.  Well, yu are gettin' edjucation!  Du they tache yu to love
+yore neighbours?
+
+L. AIDA.  [Ineffably]  Nao.  [Straying to the window]  Mrs. Lemmy,
+what's the moon?
+
+MRS. L.  The mune?  Us used to zay 'twas made o' crame cheese.
+
+L. AIDA.  I can see it.
+
+MRS. L.  Ah!  Don' yu never go wishin' for it, me dear.
+
+L. AIDA.  I daon't.
+
+MRS. L.  Folks as wish for the mune never du no gude.
+
+L. AIDA.  [Craning out, brilliant]  I'm goin' dahn in the street.
+I'll come back for yer trahsers.
+
+MRS. L.  Well; go yu, then, and get a breath o' fresh air in yore
+chakes.  I'll sune 'a feneshed.
+
+L. AIDA.  [Solemnly]  I'm goin' to be a dancer, I am.
+
+She rushes suddenly to the door, pulls it open, and is gone.
+
+MRS. L.  [Looking after her, and talking to herself.]  Ah!  'Er've
+a-got all 'er troubles before 'er!  "Little lamb, a made'ee?"
+[Cackling]  'Tes a funny world, tu! [She sings to herself.]
+
+         "There is a green 'ill far away
+               Without a city wall,
+          Where our dear-Lord was crucified,
+               'U died to save us all."
+
+     The door is opened, and LEMMY comes in; a little man with a
+     stubble of dark moustache and spiky dark hair; large, peculiar
+     eyes he has, and a look of laying his ears back, a look of
+     doubting, of perversity with laughter up the sleeve, that grows
+     on those who have to do with gas and water.  He shuts the door.
+
+MRS. L.  Well, Bob, I 'aven't a-seen yu this tu weeks.
+
+     LEMMY comes up to his mother, and sits down on a stool, sets a
+     tool-bag between his knees, and speaks in a cockney voice.
+
+LEMMY.  Well, old lydy o' leisure!  Wot would y' 'ave for supper, if
+yer could choose--salmon wivaht the tin, an' tipsy cyke?
+
+MRS. L.  [Shaking her head and smiling blandly]  That's showy.  Toad
+in the 'ole I'd 'ave--and a glass o' port wine.
+
+LEMMY.  Providential.  [He opens a tool-bag]  Wot dyer think I've got
+yer?
+
+MRS. L.  I 'ope yu've a-got yureself a job, my son!
+
+LEMMY.  [With his peculiar smile]  Yus, or I couldn't 'ave afforded
+yer this.  [He takes out a bottle]  Not 'arf!  This'll put the blood
+into yer.  Pork wine--once in the cellars of the gryte.  We'll drink
+the ryyal family in this.
+
+[He apostrophises the portrait of Queen Victoria.]
+
+MRS. L. Ah!  She was a praaper gude queen.  I see 'er once, when 'er
+was bein' burried.
+
+LEMMY.  Ryalties--I got nothin' to sy agynst 'em in this country.
+But the STYTE 'as got to 'ave its pipes seen to.  The 'ole show's
+goin' up pop.  Yer'll wyke up one o' these dyes, old lydy, and find
+yerself on the roof, wiv nuffin' between yer an' the grahnd.
+
+MRS. L.  I can't tell what yu'm talkin' about.
+
+LEMMY.  We're goin' to 'ave a triumpherat in this country Liberty,
+Equality, Fraternity; an' if yer arsk me, they won't be in power six
+months before they've cut each other's throats.  But I don't care--I
+want to see the blood flow!  (Dispassionately) I don' care 'oose
+blood it is.  I want to see it flow!
+
+MRS. L.  [Indulgently]  Yu'm a funny boy, that's sartin.
+
+LEMMY. [Carving at the cork with a knife] This 'ere cork is like
+Sasiety--rotten; it's old--old an' moulderin'.  [He holds up a bit of
+cork on the point of the knife]  Crumblin' under the wax, it is.  In
+goes the screw an' out comes the cork.  [With unction]--an' the blood
+flows.  [Tipping the bottle, he lets a drop fall into the middle of
+his hand, and licks it up.  Gazing with queer and doubting
+commiseration at has mother]  Well, old dear, wot shall we 'ave it
+aht of--the gold loving-cup, or--what?  'Ave yer supper fust, though,
+or it'll go to yer 'ead!  [He goes to the cupboard and taken out a
+disk in which a little bread is sopped in a little' milk]  Cold pap!
+'Ow can yer?  'Yn't yer got a kipper in the 'ouse?
+
+MRS. L.  [Admiring the bottle]  Port wine!  'Tis a brave treat!  I'll
+'ave it out of the "Present from Margitt," Bob.  I tuk 'ee therr by
+excursion when yu was six months.  Yu 'ad a shrimp an' it choked yu
+praaperly.  Yu was always a squeamy little feller.  I can't never
+think 'ow yu managed in the war-time, makin' they shells.
+
+     LEMMY, who has brought to the table two mugs and blown the duet
+     out of; them, fills them with port, and hands one to his mother,
+     who is eating her bread and milk.
+
+LEMMY.  Ah!  Nothin' worried me, 'cept the want o' soap.
+
+MRS. L.  [Cackling gently]  So it du still, then!  Luke at yore face.
+Yu never was a clean boy, like Jim.
+
+     [She puts out a thin finger and touches his cheek, whereon is a
+     black smudge.]
+
+LEMMY.  [Scrubbing his cheek with his sleeve.]  All right!  Y'see, I
+come stryte 'ere, to get rid o' this.
+
+     [He drinks.]
+
+MRS.  L.  [Eating her bread and milk]  Tes a pity yu'm not got a wife
+to see't yu wash yureself.
+
+LEMMY.  [Goggling]  Wife!  Not me--I daon't want ter myke no food for
+pahder.  Wot oh!--they said, time o' the war--ye're fightin' for yer
+children's 'eritage.  Well; wot's the 'eritage like, now we've got
+it?  Empty as a shell before yer put the 'igh explosive in.  Wot's it
+like?  [Warming to his theme]  Like a prophecy in the pypers--not a
+bit more substantial.
+
+MRS. L.  [Slightly hypnotised]  How 'e du talk!  The gas goes to yore
+'ead, I think!
+
+LEMMY.  I did the gas to-dy in the cellars of an 'ouse where the wine
+was mountains 'igh.  A regiment couldn't 'a drunk it.  Marble pillars
+in the 'all, butler broad as an observytion balloon, an' four
+conscientious khaki footmen.  When the guns was roarin' the talk was
+all for no more o' them glorious weeds-style an' luxury was orf.  See
+wot it is naow.  You've got a bare crust in the cupboard 'ere, I
+works from 'and to mouth in a glutted market--an' there they stand
+abaht agyne in their britches in the 'oases o' the gryte.  I was
+reg'lar overcome by it.  I left a thing in that cellar--I left a
+thing....  It'll be a bit ork'ard for me to-mower.  [Drinks
+from his mug.]
+
+MRS. L.  [Placidly, feeling the warmth of the little she has drunk]
+What thing?
+
+LEMMY.  Wot thing?  Old lydy, ye're like a winkle afore yer opens
+'er--I never see anything so peaceful.  'Ow dyer manage it?
+
+MRS. L.  Settin' 'ere and thenkin'.
+
+LEA.  Wot abaht?
+
+MRS. L.  We-el--Money, an' the works o' God.
+
+LEMMY.  Ah! So yer give me a thought sometimes.
+
+MRS. L.  [Lofting her mug]  Yu ought never to ha' spent yore money on
+this, Bob!
+
+LEMMY.  I thought that meself.
+
+MRS. L.  Last time I 'ad a glass o' port wine was the day yore
+brother Jim went to Ameriky.  [Smacking her lips]  For a teetotal
+drink, it du warm 'ee!
+
+LEMMY.  [Raising his mug]  Well, 'ere's to the British revolution!
+'Ere's to the conflygrytion in the sky!
+
+MRS. L.  [Comfortably]  So as to kape up therr, 'twon't du no 'arm.
+
+     LEMMY goes to the window and unhooks his fiddle; he stands with
+     it halfway to his shoulder.  Suddenly he opens the window and
+     leans out.  A confused murmur of voices is heard; and a snatch
+     of the Marseillaise, sung by a girl.  Then the shuffling tramp
+     of feet, and figures are passing in the street.
+
+LEMMY.  [Turning--excited]  Wot'd I tell yer, old lydy?  There it is
+--there it is!
+
+MRS. L.  [Placidly]  What is?
+
+LEMMY.  The revolution.  [He cranes out]  They've got it on a barrer.
+Cheerio!
+
+VOICE.  [Answering]  Cheerio!
+
+LEMMY.  [Leaning out]  I sy--you 'yn't tykin' the body, are yer?
+
+VOICE.  Nao.
+
+LEMMY.  Did she die o' starvytion O.K.?
+
+VOICE.  She bloomin' well did; I know 'er brother.
+
+LEMMY.  Ah!  That'll do us a bit o' good!
+
+VOICE.  Cheerio!
+
+LEMMY.  So long!
+
+VOICE.  So long!
+
+     [The girl's voice is heard again in the distance singing the
+     Marseillaise.  The door is flung open and LITTLE AIDA comes
+     running in again.]
+
+LEMMY.  'Allo, little Aida!
+
+L. AIDA.  'Allo, I been follerin' the corfin.  It's better than an
+'orse dahn!
+
+MRS. L.  What coffin?
+
+L. AIDA.  Why, 'er's wot died o' starvytion up the street.  They're
+goin' to tyke it to 'Yde Pawk, and 'oller.
+
+MRS. L.  Well, never yu mind wot they'm goin' to du: Yu wait an' take
+my trousers like a gude gell.
+
+     [She puts her mug aside and takes up her unfinished pair of
+     trousers.  But the wine has entered her fingers, and strength to
+     push the needle through is lacking.]
+
+LEMMY. [Tuning his fiddle] Wot'll yer 'ave, little Aida?  "Dead March
+in Saul" or "When the fields was white wiv dysies"?
+
+L. AIDA.  [With a hop and a brilliant smile]  Aoh yus!  "When the
+fields"----
+
+MRS. L. [With a gesture of despair] Deary me!  I 'aven't a-got the
+strength!
+
+LEMMY.  Leave 'em alone, old dear!  No one'll be goin' aht wivaht
+trahsers to-night 'cos yer leaves that one undone.  Little Aida, fold
+'em up!
+
+     [LITTLE AIDA methodically folds the five finished pairs of
+     trousers into a pile.  LEMMY begins playing.  A smile comes on
+     the face of MRS. L, who is rubbing her fingers.  LITTLE AIDA,
+     trousers over arm, goes and stares at LEMMY playing.]
+
+LEMMY.  [Stopping]  Little Aida, one o' vese dyes yer'll myke an
+actress.  I can see it in yer fyce!
+
+     [LITTLE AIDA looks at him wide-eyed.]
+
+MRS. L.  Don't 'ee putt things into 'er 'ead, Bob!
+
+LEMMY.  'Tyn't 'er 'ead, old lydy--it's lower.  She wants feedin'--
+feed 'er an' she'll rise.  [He strikes into the "Machichi"]  Look at
+'er naow.  I tell yer there's a fortune in 'er.
+
+     [LITTLE AIDA has put out her tongue.]
+
+MRS. L. I'd saner there was a gude 'eart in 'er than any fortune.
+
+L. AIDA. [Hugging her pile of trousers] It's thirteen pence three
+farthin's I've got to bring yer, an' a penny aht for me, mykes twelve
+three farthin's: [With the same little hop and sudden smile] I'm
+goin' to ride back on a bus, I am.
+
+LEMMY. Well, you myke the most of it up there; it's the nearest
+you'll ever git to 'eaven.
+
+MRS. L. Don' yu discourage 'er, Bob; she'm a gude little thing, an't
+yu, dear?
+
+L. AIDA. [Simply] Yus.
+
+LEMMY. Not 'arf. Wot c'her do wiv yesterdy's penny?
+
+L. AIDA. Movies.
+
+LEMMY. An' the dy before?
+
+L. AIDA. Movies.
+
+LEMMY. Wot'd I tell yer, old lydy--she's got vicious tystes, she'll
+finish in the theayter yep Tyke my tip, little Aida; you put every
+penny into yer foundytions, yer'll get on the boards quicker that wy.
+
+MRS. L. Don' yu pay no 'eed to his talk.
+
+L. AIDA. I daon't.
+
+Ice. Would yer like a sip aht o' my mug?
+
+L. AIDA. [Brilliant] Yus.
+
+MRS. L. Not at yore age, me dear, though it is teetotal.
+
+     [LITTLE AIDA puts her head on one side, like a dog trying to
+     understand.]
+
+LEMMY.  Well, 'ave one o' my gum-drops.
+
+     [Holds out a paper.]
+
+     [LITTLE AIDA brilliant, takes a flat, dark substance from it,
+     and puts it in her mouth.]
+
+Give me a kiss, an' I'll give yer a penny.
+
+     [LITTLE AIDA shakes her head, and leans out of window.]
+
+Movver, she daon't know the valyer of money.
+
+MRS. L. Never mind 'im, me dear.
+
+L. AIDA. [Sucking the gum-drop--with difficulty]  There's a taxi-cab
+at the corner.
+
+     [LITTLE AIDA runs to the door. A figure stands in the doorway;
+     she skids round him and out. THE PRESS comes in.]
+
+LEMMY.  [Dubiously]  Wat-oh!
+
+PRESS.  Mr. Lemmy?
+
+LEMMY.  The syme.
+
+PRESS.  I'm from the Press.
+
+LEMMY.  Blimy.
+
+PRESS.  They told me at your place you wens very likely here.
+
+LEMMY.  Yus I left Downin' Street a bit early to-dy!  [He twangs the
+feddle-strings pompously.]
+
+PRESS.  [Taking out his note-book and writing]  "Fiddles while Rome
+is burning!"  Mr. Lemmy, it's my business at this very critical time
+to find out what the nation's thinking.  Now, as a representative
+working man--
+
+LEMMY.  That's me.
+
+PRESS.  You can help me.  What are your views?
+
+LEMMY.  [Putting down fiddle]  Voos?  Sit dahn!
+
+     [THE PRESS sits on the stool which LEMMY has vacated.]
+
+The Press--my Muvver.  Seventy-seven.  She's a wonder; 'yn't yer, old
+dear?
+
+PRESS.  Very happy to make your acquaintance, Ma'am.  [He writes]
+"Mrs. Lemmy, one of the veterans of industry----" By the way, I've
+jest passed a lot of people following a coffin.
+
+
+LEMMY.  Centre o' the cyclone--cyse o' starvytion; you 'ad 'er in the
+pyper this mornin'.
+
+PRESS.  Ah! yes!  Tragic occurrence.  [Looking at the trousers.]  Hub
+of the Sweated Industries just here.  I especially want to get at the
+heart----
+
+MRS. L.  'Twasn't the 'eart, 'twas the stomach.
+
+PRESS.  [Writing]  "Mrs. Lemmy goes straight to the point."
+
+LEMMY. Mister, is it my voos or Muvver's yer want?
+
+PRESS.  Both.
+
+LEMMY.  'Cos if yer get Muvver's, yer won't 'ave time for mine.  I
+tell yer stryte [Confidentially]  she's get a glawss a' port wine in
+'er.  Naow, mind yer, I'm not anxious to be intervooed.  On the other
+'and, anyfink I might 'eve to sy of valyer----There is a clawss o'
+politician that 'as nuffn to sy--Aoh!  an' daon't 'e sy it just!  I
+dunno wot pyper yer represent.
+
+PRESS.  [Smiling]  Well, Mr. Lemmy, it has the biggest influ----
+
+LEMMY.  They all 'as that; dylies, weeklies, evenin's, Sundyes; but
+it's of no consequence--my voos are open and aboveboard.  Naow, wot
+shall we begin abaht?
+
+PRESS.  Yourself, if you please.  And I'd like you to know at once
+that my paper wants the human note, the real heart-beat of things.
+
+LEMMY.  I see; sensytion!  Well; 'ere am I--a fustclawss plumber's.
+assistant--in a job to-dy an' out tomorrer.  There's a 'eart-beat in
+that, I tell yer.  'Oo knows wot the mower 'as for me!
+
+PRESS.  [Writing].  "The great human issue--Mr. Lemmy touches it at
+once."
+
+LEMMY.  I sy keep my nyme aht o' this; I don' go in fer
+self-advertisement.
+
+PRESS.  [Writing]  "True working-man--modest as usual."
+
+LEMMY.  I daon't want to embarrass the Gover'ment.  They're so
+ticklish ever since they got the 'abit, war-time, o' mindin' wot
+people said.
+
+PRESS.  Right-o!
+
+LEMMY.  For instance, suppose there's goin' to be a revolution----
+[THE PRESS writes with energy.]  'Ow does it touch me?  Like this: I
+my go up--I cawn't come dahn; no more can Muvver.
+
+MRS. L. [Surprisingly] Us all goes down into the grave.
+
+PRESS.  "Mrs. Lemmy interjects the deeper note."
+
+LEMMY.  Naow, the gryte--they can come dahn, but they cawn't go up!
+See!  Put two an' two together, an' that's 'ow it touches me.  [He
+utters a throaty laugh]  'Ave yer got that?
+
+PRESS.  [Quizzical]  Not go up?  What about bombs, Mr. Lemmy?
+
+LEMMY.  [Dubious]  Wot abaht 'em?  I s'pose ye're on the comic
+pypers?  'Ave yer noticed wot a weakness they 'ave for the 'orrible?
+
+PRESS.  [Writing]  "A grim humour peeped out here and there through
+the earnestness of his talk."
+
+     [He sketches LEMMY'S profile.]
+
+LEMMY.  We 'ad an explosion in my factory time o' the war, that would
+just ha' done for you comics. [He meditates]  Lord!  They was after
+it too,--they an' the Sundyes; but the Censor did 'em.  Strike me, I
+could tell yer things!
+
+PRESS.  That's what I want, Mr. Lemmy; tell me things!
+
+LEMMY.  [Musing]  It's a funny world, 'yn't it?  'Ow we did blow each
+other up!  [Getting up to admire] I sy, I shall be syfe there.  That
+won't betry me anonymiety.  Why!  I looks like the Prime Minister!
+
+PRESS.  [Rather hurt]  You were going to tell me things.
+
+LEMMY.  Yus, an' they'll be the troof, too.
+
+PRESS.  I hope so; we don't----
+
+LEMMY.  Wot oh!
+
+PRESS.  [A little confused.]  We always try to verify----
+
+LEMMY.  Yer leave it at tryin', daon't yer?  Never, mind, ye're a
+gryte institootion.  Blimy, yer do have jokes, wiv it, spinnin' rahnd
+on yer own tyles, denyin' to-dy wot ye're goin' to print to-morrer.
+Ah, well!  Ye're like all of us below the line o' comfort--live
+dyngerously--ever' dy yer last.  That's wy I'm interested in the
+future.
+
+PRESS.  Well now--the future.  [Writing]  "He prophesies."
+
+LEMMY.  It's syfer, 'yn't it? [He winks]  No one never looks back on
+prophecies.  I remembers an editor spring o' 1916 stykin' his
+reputytion the war'd be over in the follerin' October.  Increased 'is
+circulytion abaht 'arf a million by it.  1917 an' war still on--'ad
+'is readers gone back on 'im?  Nao!  They was increasin' like
+rabbits.  Prophesy wot people want to believe, an' ye're syfe.  Naow,
+I'll styke my reputation on somethin', you tyke it dahn word for
+word.  This country's goin' to the dawgs--Naow, 'ere's the
+sensytion--unless we gets a new religion.
+
+PRESS.  Ah! Now for it--yes?
+
+LEMMY.  In one word: "Kindness."  Daon't mistyke me, nao sickly
+sentiment and nao patronizin'.  Me as kind to the millionaire as 'im
+to me.  [Fills his mug and drinks.]
+
+PRESS.  [Struck]  That's queer!  Kindness!  [Writing]  "Extremes
+meet.  Bombed and bomber breathing the same music."
+
+LEMMY.  But 'ere's the interestin' pynt.  Can it be done wivaht
+blood?
+
+PRESS.  [Writing]  "He doubts."
+
+LEMMY.  No dabt wotever.  It cawn't!  Blood-and-kindness!  Spill the
+blood o' them that aren't kind--an' there ye are!
+
+PRESS.  But pardon me, how are you to tell?
+
+LEMMY.  Blimy, they leaps to the heye!
+
+PRESS.  [Laying down-his note-book]  I say, let me talk to you as man
+to man for a moment.
+
+LEMMY.  Orl right.  Give it a rest!
+
+PRESS.  Your sentiments are familiar to me.  I've got a friend on the
+Press who's very keen on Christ and kindness; and wants to strangle
+the last king with the--hamstrings of the last priest.
+
+LEMMY.  [Greatly intrigued]  Not 'arf!  Does 'e?
+
+PRESS.  Yes.  But have you thought it out?  Because he hasn't.
+
+LEMMY.  The difficulty is--where to stop.
+
+PRESS.  Where to begin.
+
+LEMMY.  Lawd!  I could begin almost anywhere.  Why, every month
+abaht, there's a cove turns me aht of a job 'cos I daon't do just wot
+'e likes.  They'd 'ave to go.  I tell yer stryte--the Temple wants
+cleanin' up.
+
+PRESS.  Ye-es.  If I wrote what I thought, I should get the sack as
+quick as you.  D'you say that justifies me in shedding the blood of
+my boss?
+
+LEMMY.  The yaller Press 'as got no blood--'as it?  You shed their
+ile an' vinegar--that's wot you've got to do.  Stryte--do yer believe
+in the noble mission o' the Press?
+
+PRESS.  [Enigmatically]  Mr. Lemmy, I'm a Pressman.
+
+LEMMY.  [Goggling]  I see.  Not much!  [Gently jogging his mother's
+elbow]  Wyke up, old lydy!
+
+     [For Mrs. LEMMY who has been sipping placidly at her port, is
+     nodding.  The evening has drawn in.  LEMMY strikes a match on
+     his trousers and lights a candle.]
+
+Blood an' kindness-that's what's wanted--'specially blood!  The
+'istory o' me an' my family'll show yer that.  Tyke my bruver Fred
+--crushed by burycrats.  Tyke Muvver 'erself.  Talk o' the wrongs o'
+the people!  I tell yer the foundytions is rotten.  [He empties the
+bottle into his mother's mug]  Daon't mind the mud at the bottom, old
+lydy--it's all strengthenin'!  You tell the Press, Muvver.  She can
+talk abaht the pawst.
+
+PRESS.  [Taking up his note-book, and becoming, again his
+professional self] Yes, Mrs. Lemmy?  "Age and Youth--Past and
+Present--"
+
+MRS. L.  Were yu talkin' about Fred?  [The port has warmed her veins,
+the colour in her eyes and cheeks has deepened]  My son Fred was
+always a gude boy--never did nothin' before 'e married.  I can see
+Fred [She bends forward a little in her chair, looking straight
+before her]  acomin' in wi' a pheasant 'e'd found--terrible 'e was at
+findin' pheasants.  When father died, an' yu was cumin', Bob, Fred 'e
+said to me: "Don't yu never cry, Mother, I'll look after 'ee."  An'
+so 'e did, till 'e married that day six months an' take to the drink
+in sower.  'E wasn't never 'the same boy again--not Fred.  An' now
+'e's in That.  I can see poor Fred----
+
+     [She slowly wipes a tear out of the corner of an eye with the
+     back of her finger.]
+
+PRESS.  [Puzzled]  In--That?
+
+LEMMY.  [Sotto voce]  Come orf it!  Prison!  'S wot she calls it.
+
+MRS. L.  [Cheerful]  They say life's a vale o' sorrows.  Well, so
+'tes, but don' du to let yureself thenk so.
+
+PRESS.  And so you came to London, Mrs. Lemmy?
+
+MRS. L.  Same year as father died.  With the four o' them--that's my
+son Fred, an' my son Jim, an' my son Tom, an' Alice.  Bob there, 'e
+was born in London--an' a praaper time I 'ad of et.
+
+PRESS.  [Writing]  "Her heroic struggles with poverty----"
+
+MRS. L.  Worked in a laundry, I ded, at fifteen shellin's a week, an'
+brought 'em all up on et till Alice 'ad the gallopin' consumption.  I
+can see poor Alice wi' the little red spots is 'er cheeks---an' I not
+knowin' wot to du wi' 'her--but I always kept up their buryin' money.
+Funerals is very dear; Mr. Lemmy was six pound, ten.
+
+PRESS.  "High price of Mr. Lemmy."
+
+MRS. L.  I've a-got the money for when my time come; never touch et,
+no matter 'ow things are.  Better a little goin' short here below,
+an' enter the kingdom of 'eaven independent:
+
+PRESS.  [Writing]  "Death before dishonour--heroine of the slums.
+Dickens--Betty Higden."
+
+MRS. L.  No, sir.  Mary Lemmy.  I've seen a-many die, I 'ave; an' not
+one grievin'.  I often says to meself: [With a little laugh]  "Me
+dear, when yu go, yu go 'appy.  Don' yu never fret about that," I
+says.  An' so I will; I'll go 'appy.
+
+     [She stays quite still a moment, and behind her LEMMY draws one
+     finger across his face.]
+
+[Smiling]  "Yore old fengers'll 'ave a rest.  Think o' that!" I says.
+"'Twill be a brave change."  I can see myself lyin' there an' duin'
+nothin'.
+
+     [Again a pause, while MRS. LEMMY sees herself doing nothing.]
+
+LEMMY.  Tell abaht Jim; old lydy.
+
+MRS. L.  My son Jim 'ad a family o' seven in six years.  "I don' know
+'ow 'tes, Mother," 'e used to say to me; "they just sim to come!"
+That was Jim--never knu from day to day what was cumin'.  "Therr's
+another of 'em dead," 'e used to say, "'tes funny, tu"  "Well," I
+used to say to 'im; "no wonder, poor little things, livin' in they
+model dwellin's.  Therr's no air for 'em," I used to say.  "Well," 'e
+used to say, "what can I du, Mother?  Can't afford to live in Park
+Lane:" An' 'e take an' went to Ameriky.  [Her voice for the first
+time is truly doleful]  An' never came back.  Fine feller.  So that's
+my four sons--One's dead, an' one's in--That, an' one's in Ameriky,
+an' Bob 'ere, poor boy, 'e always was a talker.
+
+     [LEMMY, who has re-seated himself in the window and taken up his
+     fiddle, twangs the strings.]
+
+PRESS.  And now a few words about your work, Mrs. Lemmy?
+
+MRS. L.  Well, I sews.
+
+PRESS.  [Writing]  "Sews."  Yes?
+
+MRS. L.  [Holding up her unfinished pair of trousers]  I putt in the
+button'oles, I stretches the flies, I lines the crutch, I putt on
+this bindin', [She holds up the calico that binds the top]  I sews on
+the buttons, I press the seams--Tuppence three farthin's the pair.
+
+PRESS.  Twopence three farthings a pair!  Worse than a penny a line!
+
+MRS. L.  In a gude day I gets thru four pairs, but they'm gettin'
+plaguey 'ard for my old fengers.
+
+PRESS.  [Writing]  "A monumental figure, on whose labour is built the
+mighty edifice of our industrialism."
+
+LEMMY.  I sy--that's good.  Yer'll keep that, won't yet?
+
+MRS. L.  I finds me own cotton, tuppence three farthin's, and other
+expension is a penny three farthin's.
+
+PRESS.  And are you an exception, Mrs. Lemmy?
+
+MRS. L.  What's that?
+
+LEMMY.  Wot price the uvvers, old lydy?  Is there a lot of yer sewin'
+yer fingers orf at tuppence 'ypenny the pair?
+
+MRS. L.  I can't tell yu that.  I never sees nothin' in 'ere.  I pays
+a penny to that little gell to bring me a dozen pair an' fetch 'em
+back.  Poor little thing, she'm 'ardly strong enough to carry 'em.
+Feel!  They'm very 'eavy!
+
+PRESS.  On the conscience of Society!
+
+LEMMY.  I sy put that dahn, won't yer?
+
+PRESS.  Have things changed much since the war, Mrs.  Lemmy?
+
+MRS. L.  Cotton's a lot dearer.
+
+PRESS.  All round, I mean.
+
+MRS. L.  Aw!  Yu don' never get no change, not in my profession.
+[She oscillates the trousers]  I've a-been in trousers fifteen year;
+ever since I got to old for laundry.
+
+PRESS.  [Writing]  "For fifteen years sewn trousers."  What would a
+good week be, Mrs. Lemmy?
+
+MRS. L.  'Tes a very gude week, five shellin's.
+
+LEMMY.  [From the window]  Bloomin' millionairess, Muvver.  She's
+lookin' forward to 'eaven, where vey don't wear no trahsers.
+
+MRS.  L.  [With spirit] 'Tidn for me to zay whether they du.  An'
+'tes on'y when I'm a bit low-sperrity-like as I wants to go therr.
+What I am a-lukin' forward to, though, 'tes a day in the country.
+I've not a-had one since before the war.  A kind lady brought me in
+that bit of 'eather; 'tes wonderful sweet stuff when the 'oney's in
+et.  When I was a little gell I used to zet in the 'eather gatherin'
+the whorts, an' me little mouth all black wi' eatin' them.  'Twas in
+the 'eather I used to zet, Sundays, courtin'.  All flesh is grass--
+an' 'tesn't no bad thing--grass.
+
+PRESS.  [Writing]  "The old paganism of the country."  What is your
+view of life, Mrs. Lemmy?
+
+LEMMY.  [Suddenly]  Wot is 'er voo of life?  Shall I tell yer mine?
+Life's a disease--a blinkin' oak-apple!  Daon't myke no mistyke.  An'
+'umen life's a yumourous disease; that's all the difference.  Why--
+wot else can it be?  See the bloomin' promise an' the blighted
+performance--different as a 'eadline to the noos inside.  But yer
+couldn't myke Muvver see vat--not if yer talked to 'er for a wok.
+Muvver still believes in fings.  She's a country gell; at a 'undred
+and fifty she'll be a country gell, won't yer, old lydy?
+
+MRS. L.  Well, 'tesn't never been 'ome to me in London.  I lived in
+the country forty year--I did my lovin' there; I burried father
+therr.  Therr bain't nothin' in life, yu know, but a bit o' lovin'--
+all said an' done; bit o' lovin', with the wind, an' the stars out.
+
+LEMMY.  [In a loud apologetic whisper]  She 'yn't often like this.  I
+told yer she'd got a glawss o' port in 'er.
+
+MRS. L.  'Tes a brave pleasure, is lovin'.  I likes to zee et in
+young folk.  I likes to zee 'em kissin'; shows the 'eart in 'em.
+'Tes the 'eart makes the world go round; 'tesn't nothin' else, in my
+opinion.
+
+PRESS.  [Writing]  "--sings the swan song of the heart."----
+
+MRS. L.  [Overhearing]  No, I never yeard a swan sing--never!  But I
+tell 'ee what I 'eve 'eard; the Bells singin' in th' orchard 'angin'
+up the clothes to dry, an' the cuckoos callin' back to 'em.
+[Smiling]  There's a-many songs in the country-the 'eart is freelike
+in th' country!
+
+LEMMY.  [Soto voce]  Gi' me the Strand at ar' past nine.
+
+PRESS. [Writing]  "Town and country----"
+
+MRS. L.  'Tidn't like that in London; one day's jest like another.
+Not but what therr's a 'eap o' kind'eartedness 'ere.
+
+LEMMY.  [Gloomily]  Kind-'eartedness!  I daon't fink "Boys an' Gells
+come out to play."
+
+     [He plays the old tune on his fiddle.]
+
+MRS. L.  [Singing]  "Boys an' Gells come out to play.  The mune is
+shinin' bright as day."  [She laughs]  I used to sing like a lark
+when I was a gell.
+
+     [LITTLE AIDA enters.]
+
+L. AIDA.  There's 'undreds follerin' the corfin.  'Yn't you goin',
+Mr. Lemmy--it's dahn your wy!
+
+LEMMY.  [Dubiously]  Well yus--I s'pose they'll miss me.
+
+L. AIDA.  Aoh!  Tyke me!
+
+PRESS.  What's this?
+
+LEMMY.  The revolution in 'Yde Pawk.
+
+PRESS.  [Struck]  In Hyde Park?  The very thing.  I'll take you down.
+My taxi's waiting.
+
+L. AIDA.  Yus; it's breathin' 'ard, at the corner.
+
+PRESS.  [Looking at his watch]  Ah! and Mrs. Lemmy.  There's an
+Anti-Sweating Meeting going on at a house in Park Lane.  We can get
+there in twenty minutes if we shove along.  I want you to tell them
+about the trouser-making.  You'll be a sensation!
+
+LEMMY.  [To himself]  Sensytion!  'E cawn't keep orf it!
+
+MRS. L.  Anti-Sweat.  Poor fellers!  I 'ad one come to see we before
+the war, an' they'm still goin' on?  Wonderful, an't it?
+
+PRESS.  Come, Mrs. Lemmy; drive in a taxi, beautiful moonlit night;
+and they'll give you a splendid cup of tea.
+
+MRS. L.  [Unmoved]  Ah! I cudn't never du without my tea.  There's
+not an avenin' but I thinks to meself: Now, me dear, yu've a-got one
+more to fennish, an' then yu'll 'eve yore cup o' tea.  Thank you for
+callin', all the same.
+
+LEMMY.  Better siccumb to the temptytion, old lydy; joyride wiv the
+Press; marble floors, pillars o' gold; conscientious footmen; lovely
+lydies; scuppers runnin' tea!  An' the revolution goin' on across the
+wy.  'Eaven's nuffink to Pawk Lyne.
+
+PRESS.  Come along, Mrs. Lemmy!
+
+MRS. L.  [Seraphically]  Thank yu,--I'm a-feelin' very comfortable.
+'Tes wonderful what a drop o' wine'll du for the stomach.
+
+PRESS.  A taxi-ride!
+
+MRS. L.  [Placidly]  Ah! I know'em.  They'm very busy things.
+
+LEMMY.  Muvver shuns notority.  [Sotto voce to THE PRESS]  But you
+watch me!  I'll rouse 'er.
+
+     [He takes up his fiddle and sits on the window seat.  Above the
+     little houses on the opposite side of the street, the moon has
+     risen in the dark blue sky, so that the cloud shaped like a
+     beast seems leaping over it.  LEMMY plays the first notes of the
+     Marseillaise.  A black cat on the window-sill outside looks in,
+     hunching its back.  LITTLE AIDA barks at her.  MRS. LEMMY
+     struggles to her feet, sweeping the empty dish and spoon to the
+     floor in the effort.]
+
+The dish ran awy wiv the spoon!  That's right, old lydy!  [He stops
+playing.]
+
+MRS. L.  [Smiling, and moving her hands]  I like a bit o' music.  It
+du that move 'ee.
+
+PRESS.  Bravo, Mrs. Lemmy.  Come on!
+
+LEMMY.  Come on, old dear!  We'll be in time for the revolution yet.
+
+MRS. L.  'Tes 'earin' the Old 'Undred again!
+
+LEMMY.  [To THE PRESS]  She 'yn't been aht these two years.  [To his
+mother, who has put up her hands to her head]  Nao, never mind yer
+'at.  [To THE PRESS]  She 'yn't got none!  [Aloud]  No West-End lydy
+wears anyfink at all in the evenin'!
+
+MRS. L.  'Ow'm I lukin', Bob?
+
+LEMMY.  First-clawss; yer've got a colour fit to toast by.  We'll
+show 'em yer've got a kick in yer.  [He takes her arm]  Little Aida,
+ketch 'old o' the sensytions.
+
+     [He indicates the trousers THE PRESS takes MRS. LEMMY'S other
+     arm.]
+
+MRS. L.  [With an excited little laugh]  Quite like a gell!
+
+And, smiling between her son and THE PRESS, she passes out; LITTLE
+AIDA, with a fling of her heels and a wave of the trousers, follows.
+
+
+                              CURTAIN
+
+
+
+
+ACT III
+
+     An octagon ante-room of the hall at LORD WILLIAM DROMONDY'S.
+     A shining room lighted by gold candelabra, with gold-curtained
+     pillars, through which the shining hall and a little of the
+     grand stairway are visible.  A small table with a gold-coloured
+     cloth occupies the very centre of the room, which has a polished
+     parquet floor and high white walls.  Gold-coloured doors on the
+     left.  Opposite these doors a window with gold-coloured curtains
+     looks out on Park Lane.  LADY WILLIAM standing restlessly
+     between the double doors and the arch which leads to the hall.
+     JAMES is stationary by the double doors, from behind which come
+     sounds of speech and applause.
+
+POULDER.  [Entering from the hall]  His Grace the Duke of Exeter, my
+lady.
+
+     [His GRACE enters.  He is old, and youthful, with a high colour
+     and a short rough white beard.  LADY WILLIAM advances to meet
+     him.  POULDER stands by.]
+
+LADY W.  Oh!  Father, you ARE late.
+
+HIS G.  Awful crowd in the streets, Nell.  They've got a coffin--
+couldn't get by.
+
+LADY W.  Coin?  Whose?
+
+HIS G.  The Government's I should think-no flowers, by request.  I
+say, have I got to speak?
+
+LADY W.  Oh!  no, dear.
+
+HIS G.  H'm!  That's unlucky.  I've got it here.  [He looks down his
+cuff]  Found something I said in 1914--just have done.
+
+LADY W.  Oh! If you've got it--James, ask Lord William to come to me
+for a moment.  [JAMES vanishes through the door.  To THE DUKE] Go in,
+Grand-dad; they'll be so awfully pleased to see you.  I'll tell Bill.
+
+HIS G.  Where's Anne?
+
+LADY W.  In bed, of course.
+
+HIS G.  I got her this--rather nice?
+
+     [He has taken from his breast-pocket one of those street toy-men
+     that jump head over heels on your hand; he puts it through its
+     paces.]
+
+LADY W.  [Much interested]  Oh!  no, but how sweet!  She'll simply
+love it.
+
+POULDER.  If I might suggest to Your Grace to take it in and operate
+it.  It's sweated, Your Grace.  They-er-make them in those places.
+
+HIS G.  By Jove!  D'you know the price, Poulder?
+
+POULDER.  [Interrogatively]  A penny, is it?  Something paltry, Your
+Grace!
+
+HIS G.  Where's that woman who knows everything; Miss Munday?
+
+LADY W.  Oh!  She'll be in there, somewhere.
+
+     [His GRACE moves on, and passes through the doors.  The sound of
+     applause is heard.]
+
+POULDER.  [Discreetly]  would you care to see the bomb, my lady?
+
+LADY W.  Of course--first quiet moment.
+
+POULDER.  I'll bring it up, and have a watch put on it here, my lady.
+
+     [LORD WILLIAM comes through the double doom followed by JAMES.
+     POULDER retires.]
+
+LORD W.  Can't you come, Nell?
+
+LADY W.  Oh!  Bill, your Dad wants to speak.
+
+LORD W.  The deuce he does--that's bad.
+
+LADY W.  Yes, of course, but you must let him; he's found something
+he said in 1914.
+
+LORD W.  I knew it.  That's what they'll say.  Standing stock still,
+while hell's on the jump around us.
+
+LADY W.  Never mind that; it'll please him; and he's got a lovely
+little sweated toy that turns head over heels at one penny.
+
+LORD W.  H'm!  Well, come on.
+
+LADY W.  No, I must wait for stragglers.  There's sure to be an
+editor in a hurry.
+
+POULDER.  [Announcing]  Mis-ter Gold-rum!
+
+LADY W. [Sotto voce]  And there he is!  [She advances to meet a thin,
+straggling man in eyeglasses, who is smiling absently]  How good of
+you!
+
+MR. G.  Thanks awfully.  I just er--and then I'm afraid I must--er--
+Things look very----Thanks----Thanks so much.
+
+     [He straggles through the doors, and is enclosed by JAMES.]
+
+POULDER.  Miss Mun-day.
+
+LORD W.  There!  I thought she was in--She really is the most
+unexpected woman!  How do you do?  How awfully sweet of you!
+
+MISS M.  [An elderly female schoolboy]  How do you do?  There's a
+spiffing crowd.  I believe things are really going Bolshy.  How do
+you do, Lord William?  Have you got any of our people to show?  I
+told one or two, in case--they do so simply love an outing.
+
+JAMES.  There are three old chips in the lobby, my Lord.
+
+LORD W.  What?  Oh!  I say!  Bring them in at once.  Why--they're the
+hub of the whole thing.
+
+JAMES.  [Going]  Very good, my Lord.
+
+LADY W.  I am sorry.  I'd no notion; and they're such dears always.
+
+MISS M.  I must tell you what one of them said to me.  I'd told him
+not to use such bad language to his wife.  "Don't you worry, Ma!" he
+said, "I expert you can do a bit of that yourself!"
+
+LADY W.  How awfully nice!  It's SO like them.
+
+MISS M.  Yes.  They're wonderful.
+
+LORD W.  I say, why do we always call them they?
+
+LADY W.  [Puzzled]  Well, why not?
+
+LORD W.  THEY!
+
+MISS M.  [Struck]  Quite right, Lord William!  Quite right!  Another
+species.  They!  I must remember that.  THEY! [She passes on.]
+
+LADY W.  [About to follow]  Well, I don't see; aren't they?
+
+LORD W.  Never mind, old girl; follow on.  They'll come in with me.
+
+     [MISS MUNDAY and LADY WILLIAM pass through the double doors.]
+
+POULDER.  [Announcing]  Some sweated workers, my Lord.
+
+     [There enter a tall, thin, oldish woman; a short, thin, very
+     lame man, her husband; and a stoutish middle-aged woman with a
+     rolling eye and gait, all very poorly dressed, with lined and
+     heated faces.]
+
+LORD W.  [Shaking hands]  How d'you do!  Delighted to see you all.
+It's awfully good of you to have come.
+
+LAME M.  Mr. and Mrs. Tomson.  We 'ad some trouble to find it.  You
+see, I've never been in these parts.  We 'ad to come in the oven; and
+the bus-bloke put us dahn wrong.  Are you the proprietor?
+
+LORD W.  [Modestly]  Yes, I--er--
+
+LAME M.  You've got a nice plyce.  I says to the missis, I says:
+"'E's got a nice plyce 'ere," I says; "there's room to turn rahnd."
+
+LORD W.  Yes--shall we--?
+
+LAME M.  An' Mrs. Annaway she says: "Shouldn't mind livin 'ere
+meself," she says; "but it must cost'im a tidy penny," she says.
+
+LORD W.  It does--it does; much too tidy.  Shall we--?
+
+MRS. ANN.  [Rolling her eye]  I'm very pleased to 'ave come.  I've
+often said to 'em: "Any time you want me," I've said, "I'd be pleased
+to come."
+
+LORD W.  Not so pleased as we are to see you.
+
+MRS. ANN.  I'm sure you're very kind.
+
+JAMES.  [From the double doors, through which he has received a
+message]  Wanted for your speech, my Lord.
+
+LORD W.  Oh!  God!  Poulder, bring these ladies and gentleman in, and
+put them where everybody can--where they can see everybody, don't you
+know.
+
+     [He goes out hurriedly through the double doors.]
+
+LAME M.  Is 'e a lord?
+
+POULDER.  He is.  Follow me.
+
+     [He moves towards the doors, the three workers follow.]
+
+MRS. ANN.  [Stopping before JAMES]  You 'yn't one, I suppose?
+[JAMES stirs no muscle.]
+
+POULDER.  Now please.  [He opens the doors.  The Voice of LORD
+WILLIAM speaking is heard]  Pass in.
+
+     [THE THREE WORKERS pass in, POULDER and JAMES follow them.  The
+     doors are not closed, and through this aperture comes the voice
+     of LORD WILLIAM, punctuated and supported by decorous applause.]
+
+     [LITTLE ANNE runs in, and listens at the window to the confused
+     and distant murmurs of a crowd.]
+
+VOICE OF LORD W.  We propose to move for a further advance in the
+chain-making and--er--er--match-box industries.  [Applause.]
+
+     [LITTLE ANNE runs across to the door, to listen.]
+
+[On rising voice]  I would conclude with some general remarks.
+Ladies and gentlemen, the great natural, but--er--artificial
+expansion which trade experienced the first years after the war has--
+er--collapsed.  These are hard times.  We who are fortunate feel more
+than ever--er--responsible--[He stammers, loses the thread of his
+thoughts.]--[Applause]--er--responsible--[The thread still eludes
+him]--er----
+
+L. ANNE.  [Poignantly]  Oh, Daddy!
+
+LORD W.  [Desperately]  In fact--er--you know how--er--responsible we
+feel.
+
+L. ANNE.  Hooray!  [Applause.]
+
+     [There float in through the windows the hoarse and distant
+     sounds of the Marseillaise, as sung by London voices.]
+
+LORD W.  There is a feeling in the air--that I for one should say
+deliberately was--er--a feeling in the air--er--a feeling in the
+air----
+
+L. ANNE.  [Agonised]  Oh, Daddy!  Stop!
+
+     [Jane enters, and closes the door behind him.  JAMES.  Look
+     here!  'Ave I got to report you to Miss Stokes?]
+
+L. ANNE.  No-o-o!
+
+JAMES.  Well, I'm goin' to.
+
+L. ANNE.  Oh, James, be a friend to me!  I've seen nothing yet.
+
+JAMES.  No; but you've eaten a good bit, on the stairs.  What price
+that Peach Melba?
+
+L. ANNE.  I can't go to bed till I've digested it can I?  There's
+such a lovely crowd in the street!
+
+JAMES.  Lovely?  Ho!
+
+L. ANNE.  [Wheedling]  James, you couldn't tell Miss Stokes!  It
+isn't in you, is it?
+
+JAMES.  [Grinning]  That's right.
+
+L. ANNE.  So-I'll just get under here.  [She gets under the table]
+Do I show?
+
+JAMES.  [Stooping]  Not 'arf!
+
+     [POULDER enters from the hall.]
+
+POULDER.  What are you doin' there?
+
+JAMES. [Between him and the table--raising himself]  Thinkin'.
+
+     [POULDER purses his mouth to repress his feedings.]
+
+POULDER.  My orders are to fetch the bomb up here for Lady William to
+inspect.  Take care no more writers stray in.
+
+JAMES.  How shall I know 'em?
+
+POULDER.  Well--either very bald or very hairy.
+
+JAMES.  Right-o!  [He goes.]
+
+     [POULDER, with his back to the table, busies himself with the
+     set of his collar.]
+
+POULDER. [Addressing an imaginary audience--in a low but important
+voice]  The--ah--situation is seerious.  It is up to us of the--ah--
+leisured classes----
+
+     [The face of LITTLE ANNE is poked out close to his legs, and
+     tilts upwards in wonder towards the bow of his waistcoat.]
+
+to--ah--keep the people down.  The olla polloi are clamourin'----
+
+     [Miss STOKES appears from the hall, between the pillars.]
+
+Miss S. Poulder!
+
+POULDER.  [Making a volte face towards the table] Miss?
+
+MISS S.  Where is Anne?
+
+POULDER.  [Vexed at the disturbance of his speech]  Excuse me, Miss--
+to keep track of Miss Anne is fortunately no part of my dooties.
+
+     [Miss S.  She really is naughty.]
+
+POULDER.  She is.  If she was mine, I'd spank her.
+
+     [The smiling face of LITTLE ANNE becomes visible again close to
+     his legs.]
+
+MISS S.  Not a nice word.
+
+POULDER.  No; but a pleasant haction.  Miss Anne's the limit.  In
+fact, Lord and Lady William are much too kind 'earted all round.
+Take these sweated workers; that class o' people are quite 'opeless.
+Treatin' them as your equals, shakin 'ands with 'em, givin 'em tea--
+it only puffs 'em out.  Leave it to the Church, I say.
+
+MISS S.  The Church is too busy, Poulder.
+
+POULDER.  Ah!  That "Purity an' Future o' the Race Campaign."  I'll
+tell you what I thinks the danger o' that, Miss.  So much purity that
+there won't be a future race.  [Expanding]  Purity of 'eart's an
+excellent thing, no doubt, but there's a want of nature about it.
+Same with this Anti-Sweating.  Unless you're anxious to come down,
+you must not put the lower classes up.
+
+MISS S.  I don't agree with you at all, Poulder.
+
+POULDER.  Ah!  You want it both ways, Miss.  I should imagine you're
+a Liberal.
+
+MISS S.  [Horrified]  Oh, no!  I certainly am not.
+
+POULDER.  Well, I judged from your takin' cocoa.  Funny thing that,
+about cocoa-how it still runs through the Liberal Party!  It's
+virtuous, I suppose.  Wine, beer, tea, coffee-all of 'em vices.  But
+cocoa you might drink a gallon a day and annoy no one but yourself!
+There's a lot o' deep things in life, Miss!
+
+Miss S.  Quite so.  But I must find Anne.
+
+     [She recedes. ]
+
+POULDER.  [Suavely]  Well, I wish you every success; and I hope
+you'll spank her.  This modern education--there's no fruitiness in
+it.
+
+L. ANNE.  [From under the table]  Poulder, are you virtuous?
+
+POULDER.  [Jumping]  Good Ged!
+
+L. ANNE.  D'you mind my asking?  I promised James I would.
+
+POULDER.  Miss Anne, come out!
+
+     [The four footmen appear in the hall, HENRY carrying the wine
+     cooler.]
+
+JAMES.  Form fours-by your right-quick march!
+
+     [They enter, marching down right of table.]
+
+Right incline--Mark time!  Left turn!  'Alt!  'Enry, set the bomb!
+Stand easy!
+
+     [HENRY places the wine cooler on the table and covers it with a
+     blue embroidered Chinese mat, which has occupied the centre of
+     the tablecloth.]
+
+POULDER.  Ah!  You will 'ave your game!  Thomas, take the door there!
+James, the 'all!  Admit titles an' bishops.  No literary or Labour
+people.  Charles and 'Enry, 'op it and 'ang about!
+
+     [CHARLES and HENRY go out, the other too move to their
+     stations.]
+
+     [POULDER, stands by the table looking at the covered bomb.  The
+     hoarse and distant sounds of the Marseillaise float in again
+     from Park Lane.]
+
+[Moved by some deep feeling]  And this house an 'orspital in the war!
+I ask you--what was the good of all our sacrifices for the country?
+No town 'ouse for four seasons--rustygettin' in the shires, not a
+soul but two boys under me.  Lord William at the front, Lady William
+at the back.  And all for this!  [He points sadly at the cooler]  It
+comes of meddlin' on the Continent.  I had my prognostications at the
+time.  [To JAMES]  You remember my sayin' to you just before you
+joined up: "Mark my words--we shall see eight per cent. for our money
+before this is over!"
+
+JAMES.  [Sepulchrally]  I see the eight per cent., but not the money.
+
+POULDER.  Hark at that!
+
+     [The sounds of the Marseillaise grow louder.  He shakes his
+     head.]
+
+I'd read the Riot Act.  They'll be lootin' this house next!
+
+JAMES.  We'll put up a fight over your body: "Bartholomew Poulder,
+faithful unto death!"  Have you insured your life?
+
+POULDER.  Against a revolution?
+
+JAMES.  Act o' God!  Why not?
+
+POULDER.  It's not an act o' God.
+
+JAMES.  It is; and I sympathise with it.
+
+POULDER.  You--what?
+
+JAMES.  I do--only--hands off the gov'nor.
+
+POULDER.  Oh!  Really!  Well, that's something.  I'm glad to see you
+stand behind him, at all events.
+
+JAMES.  I stand in front of 'im when the scrap begins!
+
+POULDER.  Do you insinuate that my heart's not in the right place?
+
+JAMES.  Well, look at it!  It's been creepin' down ever since I knew
+you.  Talk of your sacrifices in the war--they put you on your
+honour, and you got stout on it.  Rations--not 'arf.
+
+POULDER.  [Staring at him]  For independence, I've never seen your
+equal, James.  You might be an Australian.
+
+JAMES.  [Suavely]  Keep a civil tongue, or I'll throw you to the
+crowd!  [He comes forward to the table]  Shall I tell you why I
+favour the gov'nor?  Because, with all his pomp, he's a gentleman, as
+much as I am.  Never asks you to do what he wouldn't do himself.
+What's more, he never comes it over you.  If you get drunk, or--well,
+you understand me, Poulder--he'll just say: "Yes, yes; I know,
+James!" till he makes you feel he's done it himself.  [Sinking his
+voice mysteriously] I've had experience with him, in the war and out.
+Why he didn't even hate the Huns, not as he ought.  I tell you he's
+no Christian.
+
+POULDER.  Well, for irreverence----!
+
+JAMES.  [Obstinately]  And he'll never be.  He's got too soft a
+heart.
+
+L. ANNE.  [Beneath the table-shrilly] Hurrah!
+
+POULDER.  [Jumping]  Come out, Miss Anne!
+
+JAMES.  Let 'er alone!
+
+POULDER.  In there, under the bomb?
+
+JAMES.  [Contemptuously]  Silly ass!  You should take 'em lying down!
+
+POULDER.  Look here, James!  I can't go on in this revolutionary
+spirit; either you or I resign.
+
+JAMES.  Crisis in the Cabinet!
+
+POULDER.  I give you your marchin' orders.
+
+JAMES.  [Ineffably] What's that you give me?
+
+POULDER.  Thomas, remove James!
+
+     [THOMAS grins.]
+
+L. ANNE.  [Who, with open mouth, has crept out to see the fun]  Oh!
+Do remove James, Thomas!
+
+POULDER.  Go on, Thomas.
+
+     [THOMAS takes one step towards JAMES, who lays a hand on the
+     Chinese mat covering the bomb.]
+
+JAMES.  [Grimly]  If I lose control of meself.
+
+L. ANNE.  [Clapping her hands]  Oh!  James!  Do lose control!  Then I
+shall see it go off!
+
+JAMES.  [To POULDER]  Well, I'll merely empty the pail over you!
+
+POULDER.  This is not becomin'!
+
+     [He walks out into the hall.]
+
+JAMES.  Another strategic victory!  What a Boche he'd have made.  As
+you were, Tommy!
+
+     [THOMAS returns to the door.  The sound of prolonged applause
+     cornea from within.]
+
+That's a bishop.
+
+L. ANNE.  Why?
+
+JAMES.  By the way he's drawin'.  It's the fine fightin' spirit in
+'em.  They were the backbone o' the war.  I see there's a bit o' the
+old stuff left in you, Tommy.
+
+L. ANNE.  [Scrutinizing the widely--grinning THOM]  Where?  Is it in
+his mouth?
+
+JAMES.  You've still got a sense of your superiors.  Didn't you
+notice how you moved to Poulder's orders, me boy; an' when he was
+gone, to mine?
+
+L. ANNE.  [To THOMAS]  March!
+
+     [The grinning THOMAS remains immovable.]
+
+He doesn't, James!
+
+JAMES.  Look here, Miss Anne--your lights ought to be out before ten.
+Close in, Tommy!
+
+     [He and THOMAS move towards her.]
+
+L. ANNE.  [Dodging]  Oh, no!  Oh, no!  Look!
+
+     [The footmen stop and turn.  There between the pillars, stands
+     LITTLE AIDA with the trousers, her face brilliant With
+     surprise.]
+
+JAMES.  Good Lord!  What's this?
+
+     [Seeing L. ANNE, LITTLE AIDA approaches, fascinated, and the two
+     children sniff at each other as it were like two little dogs
+     walking round and round.]
+
+L. ANNE.  [Suddenly]  My name's Anne; what's yours?
+
+L. AIDA.  Aida.
+
+L. ANNE.  Are you lost?
+
+L. AIDA.  Nao.
+
+L. ANNE.  Are those trousers?
+
+L. AIDA.  Yus.
+
+L. Arms.  Whose?
+
+L. AIDA.  Mrs. Lemmy's.
+
+L. ANNE.  Does she wear them?
+
+     [LITTLE AIDA smiles brilliantly.]
+
+L. AIDA.  Nao.  She sews 'em.
+
+L. ANNE.  [Touching the trousers]  They are hard.  James's are much
+softer; aren't they, James?  [JAMES deigns no reply]  What shall we
+do?  Would you like to see my bedroom?
+
+L. AIDA.  [With a hop]  Aoh, yus!
+
+JAMES.  No.
+
+L. ANNE.  Why not?
+
+JAMES.  Have some sense of what's fittin'.
+
+L. ANNE.  Why isn't it fittin'?  [To LITTLE AIDA]  Do you like me?
+
+L. AIDA.  Yus-s.
+
+L. ANNE.  So do I.  Come on!
+
+     [She takes LITTLE AIDA'S hand.]
+
+JAMES.  [Between the pillars]  Tommy, ketch 'em!
+
+     [THOMAS retains them by the skirts.]
+
+L. ANNE.  [Feigning indifference]  All right, then!  [To LITTLE AIDA]
+Have you ever seen a bomb?
+
+L. AIDA.  Nao.
+
+L. ANNE.  [Going to the table and lifting a corner of the cover]
+Look!
+
+L. AIDA.  [Looking]  What's it for?
+
+L. ANNE.  To blow up this house.
+
+L. AIDA.  I daon't fink!
+
+L. ANNE.  Why not?
+
+L. AIDA.  It's a beautiful big 'Ouse.
+
+L. ANNE.  That's why.  Isn't it, James?
+
+L. AIDA.  You give the fing to me; I'll blow up our 'ouse--it's an
+ugly little 'ouse.
+
+L. ANNE  [Struck]  Let's all blow up our own; then we can start fair.
+Daddy would like that.
+
+L. AIDA.  Yus.  [Suddenly brilliant]  I've 'ad a ride in a taxi, an'
+we're goin' 'ome in it agyne!
+
+L. ANNE.  Were you sick?
+
+LITTLE AIDA.  [Brilliant]  Nao.
+
+L. ANNE I was; when I first went in one, but I was quite young then.
+James, could you get her a Peche Melba?  There was one.
+
+JAMES.  No.
+
+L. ANNE.  Have you seen the revolution?
+
+L. AIDA.  Wot's that?
+
+L. ANNE.  It's made of people.
+
+L. AIDA.  I've seen the corfin, it's myde o' wood.
+
+L. ANNE.  Do you hate the rich?
+
+L. AIDA.  [Ineffably]  Nao.  I hates the poor.
+
+L. ANNE.  Why?
+
+L. AIDA.  'Cos they 'yn't got nuffin'.
+
+L. ANNE.  I love the poor.  They're such dears.
+
+L. AIDA.  [Shaking her head with a broad smile]  Nao.
+
+L. ANNE.  Why not?
+
+L. AIDA.  I'd tyke and lose the lot, I would.
+
+L. ANNE.  Where?
+
+L. AIDA.  In the water.
+
+L. ANNE.  Like puppies?
+
+L. AIDA.  Yus.
+
+L. ANNE.  Why?
+
+L. AIDA.  Then I'd be shut of 'em.
+
+L. ANNE.  [Puzzled]  Oh!
+
+     [The voice of THE PRESS is heard in the hall.  "Where's the
+     little girl?"]
+
+JAMES.  That's you.  Come 'ere!
+
+     [He puts a hand behind LITTLE AIDA'S back and propels her
+     towards the hall.  THE PRESS enters with old MRS. LEMMY.]
+
+PRESS.  Oh!  Here she is, major domo.  I'm going to take this old
+lady to the meeting; they want her on the platform.  Look after our
+friend, Mr. Lemmy here; Lord William wants to see him presently.
+
+L. ANNE.  [In an awed whisper]  James, it's the little blighter!
+
+     [She dives again under the table.  LEMMY enters.]
+
+LEMMY.  'Ere!  'Arf a mo'!  Yer said yer'd drop me at my plyce.
+Well, I tell yer candid--this 'yn't my plyce.
+
+PRESS.  That's all right, Mr. Lemmy.  [He grins]  They'll make you
+wonderfully comfortable, won't you, major domo?
+
+     [He passes on through the room, to the door, ushering old MRS.
+     LEMMY and LITTLE AIDA.]
+
+     [POULDER blocks LEMMY'S way, with CHARLES and HENRY behind him.]
+
+POULDER.  James, watch it; I'll report.
+
+     [He moves away, following THE PRESS through the door.  JAMES
+     between table and window.  THOMAS has gone to the door.  HENRY
+     and CHARLES remain at the entrances to the hall.  LEMMY looks
+     dubiously around, his cockney assurrance gradually returns.]
+
+LEMMY.  I think I knows the gas 'ere.  This is where I came to-dy,
+'yn't it?  Excuse my hesitytion--these little 'ouses IS so much the
+syme.
+
+JAMES.  [Gloomily]  They are!
+
+LEMMY.  [Looking at the four immovable footmen, till he concentrates
+on JAMES]  Ah! I 'ad a word wiv you, 'adn't I?  You're the four
+conscientious ones wot's wyin' on your gov'nor's chest.  'Twas you I
+spoke to, wasn't it?  [His eyes travel over them again]  Ye're so
+monotonous.  Well, ye're busy now, I see.  I won't wyste yer time.
+
+     [He turns towards the hall, but CHARLES and HENRY bar the way in
+     silence.]
+
+     [Skidding a little, and regarding the four immovables once more]
+
+I never see such pytient men?  Compared wiv yer, mountains is
+restless.
+
+     [He goes to the table.  JAMES watches him.  ANNE barks from
+     underneath.]
+
+[Skidding again]  Why!  There's a dawg under there.  [Noting the grin
+on THOMAS'S face]  Glad it amooses yer.  Yer want it, daon't yer, wiv
+a fyce like that?  Is this a ply wivaht words?  'Ave I got into the
+movies by mistyke?  Turn aht, an' let's 'ave six penn'orth o'
+darkness.
+
+L. ANNE.  [From beneath the cable]  No, no!  Not dark!
+
+LEMMY.  [Musingly]  The dawg talks anywy.  Come aht, Fido!
+
+     [LITTLE ANNE emerges, and regards him with burning curiosity.]
+
+I sy: Is this the lytest fashion o' receivin' guests?
+
+L. ANNE.  Mother always wants people to feel at home.  What shall we
+do?  Would you like to hear the speeches?  Thomas, open the door a
+little, do!
+
+JAMES.  'Umour 'er a couple o' inches, Tommy!
+
+     [THOMAS draws the door back stealthily an inch or so.]
+
+L. ANNE.  [After applying her eye-in a loud whisper]  There's the old
+lady.  Daddy's looking at her trousers.  Listen!
+
+     [For MRS. LEMMY'S voice is floating faintly through: "I putt in
+     the buttonholes, I stretches the flies; I 'ems the bottoms; I
+     lines the crutch; I putt on this bindin'; I sews on the buttons;
+     I presses the seams--Tuppence three farthin's the pair."]
+
+LEMMY.  [In a hoarse whisper]  That's it, old lydy: give it 'em!
+
+L. ANNE.  Listen!
+
+VOICE OF LORD W.  We are indebted to our friends the Press for giving
+us the pleasure--er--pleasure of hearing from her own lips--the
+pleasure----
+
+L. ANNE.  Oh!  Daddy!
+
+     [THOMAS abruptly closes the doors.]
+
+LEMMY.  [To ANNE]  Now yer've done it.  See wot comes o' bein'
+impytient.  We was just gettin' to the marrer.
+
+L. ANNE.  What can we do for you now?
+
+LEMMY.  [Pointing to ANNE, and addressing JAMES]  Wot is this one,
+anywy?
+
+JAMES.  [Sepulchrally]  Daughter o' the house.
+
+LEMMY.  Is she insured agynst 'er own curiosity?
+
+L. ANNE.  Why?
+
+LEMMY.  As I daon't believe in a life beyond the gryve, I might be
+tempted to send yer there.
+
+L. ANNE.  What is the gryve?
+
+LEMMY.  Where little gells goes to.
+
+L. ANNE.  Oh, when?
+
+LEMMY.  [Pretending to look at a match, which is not there]  Well, I
+dunno if I've got time to finish yer this minute.  Sy to-mower at.
+'arf past.
+
+L. ANNE.  Half past what?
+
+LEMMY.  [Despairingly]  'Arf past wot!
+
+     [The sound of applause is heard.]
+
+JAMES.  That's 'is Grace.  'E's gettin' wickets, too.
+
+     [POULDER entering from the door.]
+
+POULDER.  Lord William is slippin' in.
+
+     [He makes a cabalistic sign with his head.  Jeers crosses to the
+     door.  LEMMY looks dubiously at POULDER.]
+
+LEMMY.  [Suddenly--as to himself]  Wot oh!  I am the portly one!
+
+POULDER.  [Severely]  Any such allusion aggeravates your offence.
+
+LEMMY.  Oh, ah!  Look 'ere, it was a corked bottle.  Now, tyke care,
+tyke care, 'aughty!  Daon't curl yer lip!  I shall myke a clean
+breast o' my betryal when the time comes!
+
+     [There is a alight movement of the door.  ANNE makes a dive
+     towards the table but is arrested by POULDER grasping her
+     waistband.  LORD WILLIAM slips in, followed by THE PRESS, on
+     whom JAMES and THOMAS close the door too soon.]
+
+HALF OF THE PRESS.  [Indignantly]  Look out!
+
+JAMES.  Do you want him in or out, me Lord?
+
+LEMMY.  I sy, you've divided the Press; 'e was unanimous.
+
+     [The FOOTMEN let THE PRESS through.]
+
+LORD W.  [To THE PRESS]  I'm so sorry.
+
+LEMMY.  Would yer like me to see to 'is gas?
+
+LORD W.  So you're my friend of the cellars?
+
+LEMMY.  [Uneasy]  I daon't deny it.
+
+     [POULDER begins removing LITTLE ANNE.]
+
+L. ANNE.  Let me stay, Daddy; I haven't seen anything yet!  If I go,
+I shall only have to come down again when they loot the house.
+Listen!
+
+     [The hoarse strains of the Marseillaise are again heard from the
+     distance.]
+
+LORD W.  [Blandly]  Take her up, Poulder!
+
+L. ANNE.  Well, I'm coming down again--and next time I shan't have
+any clothes on, you know.
+
+     [They vanish between the pillars.  LORD WILLIAM makes a sign of
+     dismissal.  The FOOTMAN file out.]
+
+LEMMY.  [Admiringly]  Luv'ly pyces!
+
+LORD W.  [Pleasantly]  Now then; let's have our talk, Mr.----
+
+LEMMY.  Lemmy.
+
+PRESS.  [Who has slipped his note-book out]  "Bombed and Bomber face
+to face----"
+
+LEMMY. [Uneasy]  I didn't come 'ere agyne on me own, yer know.  The
+Press betryed me.
+
+LORD W.  Is that old lady your mother?
+
+LEMMY.  The syme.  I tell yer stryte, it was for 'er I took that old
+bottle o' port.  It was orful old.
+
+LORD W.  Ah!  Port?  Probably the '83.  Hope you both enjoyed it.
+
+LEMMY. So far-yus.  Muvver'll suffer a bit tomower, I expect.
+
+LORD W.  I should like to do something for your mother, if you'll
+allow me.
+
+LEMMY.  Oh!  I'll allow yer.  But I dunno wot she'll sy.
+
+LORD W.  I can see she's a fine independent old lady!  But suppose
+you were to pay her ten bob a week, and keep my name out of it?
+
+LEMMY.  Well, that's one wy o' YOU doin' somefink, 'yn't it?
+
+LORD W.  I giving you the money, of course.
+
+PRESS.  [Writing] "Lord William, with kingly generosity----"
+
+LEMMY.  [Drawing attention to THE PRESS with his thumb] I sy--
+I daon't mind, meself--if you daon't----
+
+LORD W.  He won't write anything to annoy me.
+
+PRESS.  This is the big thing, Lord William; it'll get the public
+bang in the throat.
+
+LEMMY.  [Confidentially]  Bit dyngerous, 'yn't it? trustin' the
+Press?  Their right 'ands never knows wot their left 'ands is
+writin'.  [To THE PRESS]  'Yn't that true, speakin' as a man?
+
+PRESS.  Mr. Lemmy, even the Press is capable of gratitude.
+
+LEMMY.  Is it?  I should ha' thought it was too important for a
+little thing like that.  [To LORD WILLIAM]  But ye're quite right; we
+couldn't do wivaht the Press--there wouldn't be no distress, no
+coffin, no revolution--'cos nobody'd know nuffin' abaht it.  Why!
+There wouldn't be no life at all on Earf in these dyes, wivaht the
+Press!  It's them wot says: "Let there be Light--an' there is Light."
+
+LORD W.  Umm!  That's rather a new thought to me.  [Writes on his
+cuff.]
+
+LEMMY.  But abaht Muvver, I'll tell yer 'ow we can arrynge.  You send
+'er the ten bob a week wivaht syin' anyfink, an' she'll fink it comes
+from Gawd or the Gover'ment yer cawn't tell one from t'other in
+Befnal Green.
+
+LORD W.  All right; we'll' do that.
+
+LEMMY.  Will yer reely?  I'd like to shyke yer 'and.
+
+     [LORD WILLIAM puts out his hand, which LEMMY grasps.]
+
+PRESS.  [Writing]  "The heartbeat of humanity was in that grasp
+between the son of toil and the son of leisure."
+
+LEMMY.  [Already ashamed of his emotion]  'Ere, 'arf a mo'!  Which is
+which?  Daon't forget I'm aht o' wori; Lord William, if that's 'is
+nyme, is workin 'ard at 'is Anti-Sweats!  Wish I could get a job like
+vat--jist suit me!
+
+LORD W.  That hits hard, Mr. Lemmy.
+
+LEMMY.  Daon't worry!  Yer cawn't 'elp bein' born in the purple!
+
+LORD W.  Ah!  Tell me, what would you do in my place?
+
+LEMMY.  Why--as the nobleman said in 'is well-known wy: "Sit in me
+Club winder an' watch it ryne on the dam people!"  That's if I was a
+average nobleman!  If I was a bit more noble, I might be tempted to
+come the kind'earted on twenty thou' a year.  Some prefers yachts, or
+ryce 'orses.  But philanthropy on the 'ole is syfer, in these dyes.
+
+LORD W.  So you think one takes to it as a sort of insurance, Mr.
+Lemmy?  Is that quite fair?
+
+LEMMY.  Well, we've all got a weakness towards bein' kind, somewhere
+abaht us.  But the moment wealf comes in, we 'yn't wot I call
+single-'earted.  If yer went into the foundytions of your wealf--would
+yer feel like 'avin' any?  It all comes from uvver people's 'ard,
+unpleasant lybour--it's all built on Muvver as yer might sy.  An' if
+yer daon't get rid o' some of it in bein' kind--yer daon't feel syfe
+nor comfy.
+
+LORD W.  [Twisting his moustache] Your philosophy is very pessimistic.
+
+LEMMY.  Well, I calls meself an optimist; I sees the worst of
+everyfink.  Never disappynted, can afford to 'ave me smile under the
+blackest sky.  When deaf is squeezin' of me windpipe, I shall 'ave a
+laugh in it!  Fact is, if yer've 'ad to do wiv gas an' water pipes,
+yer can fyce anyfing.  [The distant Marseillaise blares up] 'Ark at
+the revolution!
+
+LORD W.  [Rather desperately]  I know--hunger and all the rest of it!
+And here am I, a rich man, and don't know what the deuce to do.
+
+LEMMY.  Well, I'll tell yer.  Throw yer cellars open, an' while the
+populyce is gettin' drunk, sell all yer 'ave an' go an' live in
+Ireland; they've got the millennium chronic over there.
+
+     [LORD WILLIAM utters a short, vexed laugh, and begins to walk
+     about.]
+
+That's speakin' as a practical man.  Speakin' as a synt "Bruvvers,
+all I 'ave is yours.  To-morrer I'm goin' dahn to the Lybour Exchynge
+to git put on the wytin' list, syme as you!"
+
+LORD W.  But, d---it, man, there we should be, all together!  Would
+that help?
+
+LEMMY.  Nao; but it'd syve a lot o' blood.
+
+     [LORD WILLIAM stops abruptly, and looks first at LEMMY, then at
+     the cooler, still cohered with the Chinese mat.]
+
+Yer thought the Englishman could be taught to shed blood wiv syfety.
+Not 'im!  Once yer git 'im into an 'abit, yer cawn't git 'im out of
+it agyne.  'E'll go on sheddin' blood mechanical--Conservative by
+nyture.  An' 'e won't myke nuffin' o' yours.  Not even the Press wiv
+'is 'oneyed words'll sty 'is 'and.
+
+LORD W.  And what do you suggest we could have done, to avoid
+trouble?
+
+LEMMY.  [Warming to his theme]  I'll tell yer.  If all you wealfy
+nobs wiv kepitel 'ad come it kind from the start after the war yer'd
+never 'a been 'earin' the Marseillaisy naow.  Lord!  'Ow you did talk
+abaht Unity and a noo spirit in the Country.  Noo spirit!  Why, soon
+as ever there was no dynger from outside, yer stawted to myke it
+inside, wiv an iron'and.  Naow, you've been in the war an' it's given
+yer a feelin' 'eart; but most of the nobs wiv kepitel was too old or
+too important to fight.  They weren't born agyne.  So naow that bad
+times is come, we're 'owlin' for their blood.
+
+LORD W.  I quite agree; I quite agree.  I've often said much the same
+thing.
+
+LEMMY.  Voice cryin' in the wilderness--I daon't sy we was yngels--
+there was faults on bofe sides.  [He looks at THE PRESS]  The Press
+could ha' helped yer a lot.  Shall I tell yer wot the Press did?
+"It's vital," said the Press, "that the country should be united, or
+it will never recover."  Nao strikes, nao 'omen nature, nao nuffink.
+Kepitel an' Lybour like the Siamese twins.  And, fust dispute that
+come along, the Press orfs wiv its coat an' goes at it bald'eaded.
+An' wot abaht since?  Sich a riot o' nymes called, in Press--and
+Pawlyement.  Unpatriotic an' outrygeous demands o' lybour.
+Blood-suckin' tyranny o' Kepitel; thieves an' dawgs an 'owlin
+Jackybines--gents throwin' books at each other; all the resources of
+edjucytion exhausted!  If I'd bin Prime Minister I'd 'ave 'ad the
+Press's gas cut 'orf at the meter.  Puffect liberty, of course, nao
+Censorship; just sy wot yer like--an' never be 'eard of no more.
+
+     [Turning suddenly to THE PRESS, who has been scribbling in pace
+     with this harangue, and now has developed a touch of writer's
+     cramp.]
+
+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
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+ End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of The Foundations (Fourth Series Plays)
+ by John Galsworthy
+
+ *** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE FOUNDATIONS ***
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