The Widowing of Mrs. Holroyd/Act I

by D. H. Lawrence

Layout 2

THE WIDOWING OF MRS. HOLROYD

PERSONS

• Mrs. Holroyd
• Holroyd
• Blackmore
• Jack Holroyd
• Minnie Holroyd
• Grandmother
• Rigley
• Clara
• Laura
• Manager
• Two Miners

THE WIDOWING OF MRS. HOLROYD

THE FIRST ACT

SCENE I

The kitchen of a miner’s small cottage. On the left is the fireplace, with a deep, full red fire. At the hack is a white-curtained window, and beside it the outer door of the room. On the right, two white wooden stairs intrude into the kitchen below the closed stairfoot door. On the left, another door.

The room is furnished with a chintz-backed sofa under the window, a glass-knobbed painted dresser on the right, and in the centre, toward the fire, a table with a red and blue check tablecloth. On one side of the hearth is a wooden rocking-chair, on the other an armchair of round staves. An unlighted copper-shaded lamp hangs from the raftered ceiling. It is dark twilight, with the room full of warm fireglow. A woman enters from the outer door. As she leaves the door open behind her, the colliery rail cam be seen not far from the threshold, and, away back, the headstocks of a pit.

The woman is tall and voluptuously built. She carries a basket heaped full of washing, which she has just taken from the clotheslines outside. Setting down the basket heavily, she feels among the clothes. She lifts out a white heap of sheets and other linen, setting it on the table; then she takes a woollen shirt in her hand.

Mrs. Holroyd (aloud, to herself)

You know they ’re not dry even now, though it ’s been as fine as it has. (She spreads the shirt on the back of her rocking-chair, which she turns to the fire)

Voice (calling from outside)

Well, have you got them dry?

[Mrs. Holroyd starts up, turns and flings her hand in the direction of the open door, where appears a man in blue overalls, swarfed and greased. He carries a dinner-basket.

Mrs. Holroyd

You—you—I don’t know what to call you! The idea of shouting at me like that—like the Evil One out of the darkness!

Blackmore

I ought to have remembered your tender nerves. Shall I come in?

Mrs. Holroyd

No—not for your impudence. But you ’re late, are n’t you?

Blackmore

It ’s only just gone six. We electricians, you know, we ’re the gentlemen on a mine: ours is gentlemen’s work, But I ’ll bet Charles Holroyd was home before four.

Mrs. Holroyd (bitterly)

Ay, and gone again before five.

Blackmore

But mine ’s a lad’s job, and I do nothing!—Where ’s he gone?

Mrs. Holroyd (contemptuously)

Dunno! He’d got a game on somewhere—toffed himself up to the nines, and skedaddled off as brisk as a turkey-cock. (She smirks in front of the mirror hanging on the chimney-piece, in imitation of a man brushing his hair and moustache and admiring himself)

Blackmore

Though turkey-cocks are n’t brisk as a rule. Children playing?

Mrs. Holroyd (recovering herself, coldly)

Yes. And they ought to be in. (She continues placing the flannel garments before the fire, on the fender and on chair-backs, till the stove is hedged in with a steaming fence; then she takes a sheet in a bundle from the table, and going up to Blackmore, who stands watching her, says) Here, take hold, and help me fold it.

Blackmore

I shall swarf it up.

Mrs. Holroyd (snatching back the sheet)

Oh, you ’re as tiresome as everybody else.

Blackmore (putting down his basket and moving to door on right)

Well, I can soon wash my hands.

Mrs. Holroyd (ceasing to flap and fold pillowcases)

That roller-towel’s ever so dirty. I ’ll get you another. (She goes to a drawer in the dresser, and then back toward the scullery, where is a sound of water)

Blackmore

Why, bless my life, I ’m a lot dirtier than the towel. I don’t want another.

Mrs. Holroyd (going into the scullery)

Here you are.

Blackmore (softly, now she is near him)

Why did you trouble now? Pride, you know, pride, nothing else.

Mrs. Holroyd (also playful)

It ’s nothing but decency.

Blackmore (softly)

Pride, pride, pride!

[A child of eight suddenly appears in the doorway.

Jack Oo, how dark!

Mrs. Holroyd (hurrying agitated into the kitchen)

Why, where have you been—what have you been doing now?

Jack (surprised) Why — I’ve only been out to play.

Mrs. Holroyd (still sharply)

And where ’s Minnie?

[A little girl of six appears by the door.

Minnie

I ’m here, mam, and what do you think—?

Mrs. Holroyd (softening, as she recovers equanimity)

Well, and what should I think?

Jack

Oh, yes, mam—you know my father—?

Mrs. Holroyd (ironically)

I should hope so.

Minnie

We saw him dancing, mam, with a paper bonnet.

Mrs. Holroyd

What—?

Jack

There ’s some women at “New Inn,” what ’s come from Nottingham—

Minnie

An’ he ’s dancin’ with the pink one.

Jack

Shut up our Minnie. An’ they ’ve got paper bonnets on—

Minnie

All colors, mam!

Jack (getting angry)

Shut up our Minnie! An’ my dad’s dancing with her.

Minnie

With the pink-bonnet one, mam.

Jack

Up in the club-room over the bar.

Minnie

An’ she ’s a lot littler than him, mam.

Jack (piteously)

Shut up our Minnie— An’ you can see ’em go past the window, ’cause there is n’t no curtains up, an’ my father ’s got the pink bonnet one—

Minnie

An’ there ’s a piano, mam—

Jack

An’ lots of folks outside watchin’, lookin’ at my dad! He can dance, can’t he, mam?

Mrs. Holroyd (she has been lighting the lamp, and holds the lamp-glass)

And who else is there?

Minnie

Some more men—an’ all the women with paper bonnets on.

Jack

There ’s about ten, I should think, an’ they say they came in a brake from Nottingham.

[Mrs. Holroyd, trying to replace the lamp-glass over the flame, lets it drop on the floor with a smash.

Jack

There, now—now we ’ll have to have a candle.

Blackmore (appearing in the scullery doorway with the towel) What ’s that—the lamp-glass?

Jack

I never knowed Mr. Blackmore was here.

Blackmore (to Mrs. Holroyd)

Have you got another?

Mrs. Holroyd

No. (There is silence for a moment) We can manage with a candle for to-night.

Blackmore (stepping forward and blowing out the smoky flame) I ’ll see if I can’t get you one from the pit. I shan’t be a minute.

Mrs. Holroyd

Don’t—don’t bother—I don’t want you to.

[He, however, unscrews the burner and goes.

Minnie

Did Mr. Blackmore come for tea, mam?

Mrs. Holroyd

No; he ’s had no tea.

Jack

I bet he ’s hungry. Can I have some bread?

Mrs. Holroyd (she stands a lighted candle on the table) Yes, and you can get your boots off to go to bed.

Jack

It ’s not seven o’clock yet.

Mrs. Holroyd

It does n’t matter.

Minnie

What do they wear paper bonnets for, mam?

Mrs. Holroyd

Because they ’re brazen hussies.

Jack

I saw them having a glass of beer.

Mrs. Holroyd

A nice crew!

Jack

They say they are old pals of Mrs. Meakins. You could hear her screaming o’ laughin’, an’ my dad says: “He-ah, missis—here—a dog’s-nose for the Dachess—hopin’ it ‘ll smell samthng”—What ’s a dog’s-nose?

Mrs. Holroyd (giving him a piece of bread and butter)

Don’t ask me, child. How should I know?

Minnie

Would she eat it, mam?

Mrs. Holroyd

Eat what?

Minnie

Her in the pink bonnet—eat the dog’s nose?

Mrs. Holroyd

No, of course not. How should I know what a dog’s-nose is?

Jack

I bet he ’ll never go to work to-morrow, mother—will he?

Mrs. Holroyd

Goodness knows. I’m sick of it—disgracing me. There ’ll be the whole place cackling this now. They ’ve no sooner finished about him getting taken up for fighting than they begin on this. But I ’ll put a stop to it some road or other. It’s not going on, if I know it: it is n’t.

[She stops, hearing footsteps, and Blackmore enters.

Blackmore

Here we are then—got one all right.

Minnie

Did they give it you, Mr. Blackmore?

Blackmore

No, I took it.

[He screws on the burner and proceeds to light the lamp. He is a tall, slender, mobile man of twenty-seven, brown-haired, dressed in blue overalls. Jack Holroyd is a big, dark, ruddy, lusty lad. Minnie is also big, but fair.

Minnie

What do you wear blue trousers for, Mr. Blackmore?

Blackmore

They ’re to keep my other trousers from getting greasy.

Minnie

Why don’t you wear pit-breeches, like dad’s?

Jack

’Cause he’s a ’lectrician. Could you make me a little injun what would make electric light?

Blackmore

I will, some day.

Jack

When?

Minnie

Why don’t you come an’ live here?

Blackmore (looking swiftly at Mrs. Holroyd)

Nay, you ’ve got your own dad to live here.

Minnie (plaintively)

Well, you could come as well. Dad shouts when we’ve gone to bed, an’ thumps the table. He would n’t if you was here.

Jack

He durs n’t—

Mrs. Holroyd

Be quiet now, be quiet. Here, Mr. Blackmore. (She again gives him the sheet to fold)

Blackmore

Your hands are cold.

Mrs. Holroyd

Are they?—I did n’t know.

[Blackmore puts his hand on hers.

Mrs. Holroyd (confusedly, looking aside)

You must want your tea.

Blackmore

I ’m in no hurry.

Mrs. Holroyd

Selvidge to selvidge. You ’ll be quite a domestic man, if you go on.

Blackmore

Ay.

[They fold the two sheets.

Blackmore

They are white, your sheets!

Mrs. Holroyd

But look at the smuts on them—look! This vile hole! I ’d never have come to live here, in all the thick of the pit-grime, and lonely, if it had n’t been for him, so that he should n’t call in a public-house on his road home from work. And now he slinks past on the other side of the railway, and goes down to the New Inn instead of coming in for his dinner. I might as well have stopped in Bestwood.

Blackmore

Though I rather like this little place, standing by itself.

Mrs. Holroyd

Jack, can you go and take the stockings in for me? They ’re on the line just below the pigsty. The prop ’s near the apple-tree—mind it. Minnie, you take the peg-basket.

Minnie

Will there be any rats, mam?

Mrs. Holroyd

Rats—no. They ’ll be frightened when they hear you, if there are.

[The children go out.

Blackmore

Poor little beggars!

Mrs. Holroyd

Do you know, this place is fairly alive with rats. They run up that dirty vine in front of the house—I ’m always at him to cut it down—and you can hear them at night overhead like a regiment of soldiers tramping. Really, you know, I hate them.

Blackmore

Well—a rat is a nasty thing!

Mrs. Holroyd

But I s’ll get used to them. I ’d give anything to be out of this place.

Blackmore

It is rotten, when you ’re tied to a life you don’t like. But I should miss it if you were n’t here. When I ’m coming down the line to the pit in the morning—it ’s nearly dark at seven now—I watch the fire-light in here— Sometimes I put my hand on the wall outside where the chimney runs up to feel it warm— There is n’t much in Bestwood, is there?

Mrs. Holroyd

There ’s less than nothing if you can’t be like the rest of them—as common as they ’re ’made.

Blackmore

It ’s a fact—particularly for a woman— But this place is cosy— God love me, I ’m sick of lodgings.

Mrs. Holroyd

You ’ll have to get married— I ’m sure there are plenty of nice girls about.

Blackmore

Are there? I never see ’em. (He laughs)

Mrs. Holroyd

Oh, come, you can’t say that.

Blackmore

I ’ve not seen a single girl—an unmarried girl—that I should want for more than a fortnight—not one.

Mrs. Holroyd

Perhaps you ’re very particular.

[She puts her two palms on the table and leans back. He draws near to her, dropping his head.

Blackmore

Look here!

[He has put his hand on the table near hers.

Mrs. Holroyd

Yes, I know you ’ve got nice hands—but you need n’t be vain of them.

Blackmore

No—it’s not that— But don’t they seem—(he glances swiftly at her; she turns her head aside; he laughs nervously)—they sort of go well with one another. (He laughs again)

Mrs. Holroyd

They do, rather—

[They stand still, near one another, with bent heads, for a moment. Suddenly she starts up and draws her hand away.

Blackmore

Why—what is it?

[She does not answer. The children come in—Jack with an armful of stockings, Minnie with the basket of pegs.

Jack

I believe it ’s freezing, mother.

Minnie

Mr. Blackmore, could you shoot a rat an’ hit it?

Blackmore (laughing)

Shoot the lot of ’em, like a wink.

Mrs. Holroyd

But you ’ve had no tea, What an awful shame to keep you here!

Blackmore

Nay, I don’t care. It never bothers me.

Mrs. Holroyd

Then you ’re different from most men.

Blackmore

All men are n’t alike, you know.

Mrs. Holroyd

But do go and get some tea.

Minnie (plaintively)

Can’t you stop, Mr. Blackmore?

Blackmore

Why, Minnie?

Minnie

So ’s we ’re not frightened. Yes, do. Will you?

Blackmore

Frightened of what?

Minnie

’Cause there ’s noises, an’ rats,—an’ perhaps dad ’ll come home and shout.

Blackmore

But he ’d shout more if I was here.

Jack

He does n’t when my uncle John ’s here. So you stop, an’ perhaps he won’t.

Blackmore

Don’t you like him to shout when you ’re in bed?

[They do not answer, but look seriously at him.

CURTAIN

 

SCENE II

The same scene, two hours later. The clothes are folded m little piles on the table and the sofa. Mrs. Holroyd is folding a thick flannel undervest or singlet which her husband wears in the pit and which has just dried on the fender.

Mrs. Holroyd (to herself)

Now thank goodness they ’re all dried. It ’s only nine o’clock, so he won’t be in for another two hours, the nuisance. (She sits on the sofa, letting her arms hang down in dejection. After a minute or two she jumps up, to begin rudely dropping the piles of washed clothes in the basket) 1 don’t care, I ’m not going to let him have it all his way—no! (She weeps a little, fiercely, drying her eyes on the edge of her white apron) Why should I put up with it all?—He can do what he likes. But I don’t care, no, I don’t—

[She flings down the full clothes-basket, sits suddenly in the rocking-chair, and weeps. There is the sound of coarse, bursting laughter, in vain subdued, and a man’s deep guffaws. Footsteps draw near. Suddenly the door opens, and a little, plump, pretty woman of thirty, in a close-fitting dress and a giddy, frilled bonnet of pink paper, stands perkily in the doorway. Mrs. Holroyd springs up: her small, sensitive nose is inflamed with weeping, her eyes are wet and flashing. She fronts the other woman.

Clara (with a pert smile and a jerk of the head)

Good evenin’!

Mrs. Holroyd

What do you want?

Clara (she has a Yorkshire accent)

Oh, we ’ve not come beggin’—this is a visit.

[She stuffs her handkerchief in front of her mouth in a little snorting burst of laughter. There is the sound of another woman behind going off into uncontrollable laughter, while a man guffaws.

Mrs. Holroyd (after a moment of impotence—tragically) What—!

Clara (faltering slightly, affecting a polite tone)

We thought we ’d just call—

[She stuffs her handkerchief in front of her explosive laughter—the other woman shrieks again, beginning high, and running down the scale.

Mrs. Holroyd

What do you mean?—What do you want here?

Clara (she bites her lip)

We don’t want anything, thanks. We ’ve just called. (She begins to laugh again—so does the other) Well, I don’t think much of the manners in this part of the country. (She takes a few hesitating steps into the kitchen)

Mrs. Holroyd (trying to shut the door upon her)

No, you are not coming in.

Clara (preventing her closing the door)

Dear me, what a to-do! (She struggles with the door. The other woman comes up to help; a man is seen in the background)

Laura

My word, are n’t we good enough to come in?

[Mrs. Holroyd, finding herself confronted, by what seems to her excitement a crowd, releases the door and draws back a little—almost in tears of anger.

Mrs. Holroyd

You have no business here. What do you want?

Clara (putting her bonnet straight and entering in brisk defiance) I tell you we’ve only come to see you. (She looks round the kitchen, then makes a gesture toward the armchair) Can I sit here? (She plumps herself down) Rest for the weary.

[A woman and a man have followed her into the room. Laura is highly colored, stout, some forty years old, wears a blue paper bonnet, and looks like the landlady of a public-house. Both she and Clara wear much jewellery. Laura is well dressed in a blue cloth dress. Holroyd is a big blond man. His cap is pushed back, and he looks rather tipsy and lawless. He has a heavy blond moustache. His jacket and trousers are black, his vest gray, and he wears a turn-down collar with dark bow.

Laura (sitting down in a chair on right, her hand on her bosom, panting) I ’ve laughed till I 0feel fair bad.

Clara

’Ave n’t you got a drop of nothink to offer us, mester? Come, you are slow. I should ’ave thought a gentleman like you would have been out with the glasses afore we could have got breaths to ask you.

Holroyd (clumsily)

I dunna believe there ’s owt in th’ ’ouse but a bottle of stout.

Clara (putting her hand on her stomach)

It feels as if th’ kettle ’s going to boil over.

[She stuffs her handkerchief in front of her mouth, throws back her head, and snorts with laughter, having now regained her confidence. Laura laughs in the last state of exhaustion, her hand on her breast.

Holroyd

Shall ta ha’e it then?

Clara

What do you say, Laura—are you having a drop?

Laura (submissively, and naturally tongue-tied)

Well—I don’t mind—I will if you do.

Clara (recklessly)

I think we ’ll ’ave a drop, Charlie, an’ risk it. It ‘ll ’appen hold the rest down.

[There is a moment of silence, while Holroyd goes into the scullery. Clara surveys the room and the dramatic pose of Mrs. Holroyd curiously.

Holroyd (suddenly)

Heh! What, come ’ere—!

[There is a smash of pots, and a rat careers out of the scullery. Laura, the first to see it, utters a scream, but is fastened to her chair, unable to move.

Clara (jumps up to the table, crying)

It’s a rat— Oh, save us! (She scrambles up, banging her head on the lamp, which swings violently)

Mrs. Holroyd (who, with a little shriek, jerks her legs up on to the sofa, where she was stiffly reclining, now cries in despairing falsetto, stretching forth her arms) The lamp—mind, the lamp!

[Clara steadies the lamp, and holds her hand to her head.

Holroyd (coming from the scullery, a bottle of stout in his hand) Where is he?

Clara

I believe he ’s gone under the sofa. My, an’ he ’s a thumper, if you like, as big as a rabbit.

[Holroyd advances cautiously toward the sofa.

Laura (springing suddenly into life)

Hi, hi, let me go—let me go— Don’t touch him— Where is he? (She flees and scrambles onto Clara’s armchair, catching hold of the latter’s skirts)

Clara

Hang off—do you want to have a body down— Mind, I tell you.

Mrs. Holroyd (bunched up on the sofa, with crossed hands holding her arms, fascinated, watches her husband as he approaches to stoop and attack the rat; she suddenly screams) Don’t, he ’ll fly at you!

Holroyd

He ’ll not get a chance.

Mrs. Holroyd

He will, he will—and they ’re poisonous! (She ends on a very high note. Leaning forward on the sofa as far as she dares, she stretches out her arms to keep back her husband, who is about to kneel and search under the sofa for the rat)

Holroyd

Come off, I canna see him.

Mrs. Holroyd

I won’t let you; he ’ll fly at you.

Holroyd

I ’ll settle him—

Mrs. Holroyd

Open the door and let him go.

Holroyd

I shonna. I ’ll settle him. Shut thy claver. He ’ll non come anigh thee.

[He kneels down and begins to creep to the sofa. With a great bound, Mrs. Holroyd flies to the door and flings it open. Then she rushes back to the couch.

Clara

There he goes!

Holroyd (simultaneously)

Hi!— Ussza! (He flings the bottle of stout out of the door)

Laura (piteously)

Shut the door, do.

[Holroyd rises, dusting his trousers’ knees, and closes the door. Laura heavily descends and drops in the chair.

Clara

Here, come an’ help us down, Charlie. Look at her; she ’s going off. (Though Laura is still purple red, she sinks back in the chair. Holroyd goes to the table. Clara places her hands on his shoulders and jumps lightly down. Then she pushes Holroyd with her elbow) Look sharp, get a glass of water.

[She unfastens Laura’s collar and pulls off the paper bonnet. Mrs. Holroyd sits up, straightens her clothing, and tries to look cold and contemptuous. Holroyd brings a cup of water. Clara sprinkles her friend’s face. Laura sighs and sighs again very deeply, then draws herself up painfully.

Clara (tenderly)

Do you feel any better—shall you have a drink of water? (Laura mournfully shakes her head; Clara turns sharply to Holroyd) She ’ll ’ave a drop o’ something. (Holroyd goes out. Clara meanwhile fans her friend with a handkerchief. Holroyd brings stout. She pours out the stout, smells the glass, smells the bottle—then finally the cork) Eh, mester, it ’s all of a work—it ’s had a foisty cork.

[At that instant the stairfoot door opens slowly, revealing the children—the girl peering over the boy’s shoulder—both in white nightgowns. Everybody starts. Laura gives a little cry, presses her hand on her bosom, and sinks back, gasping.

Clara (appealing and anxious, to Mrs. Holroyd)

You don’t ’appen to ’ave a drop of brandy for her, do you, missis?

[Mrs. Holroyd rises coldly without replying, and goes to the stairfoot door where the children stand.

Mrs. Holroyd (sternly, to the children)

Go to bed!

Jack

What ’s a matter, mother?

Mrs. Holroyd

Never you mind, go to bed!

Clara (appealingly)

Be quick, missis.

[Mrs. Holroyd, glancing round, sees Laura going purple, and runs past the children upstairs. The boy and girl sit on the lowest stair. Their father goes out of the house, shamefaced. Mrs. Holroyd runs downstairs with a little brandy in a large bottle.

Clara

Thanks, awfully. (To Laura) Come on, try an’ drink a drop, there’s a dear.

[They administer brandy to Laura. The children sit watching, open-eyed. The girl stands up to look.

Minnie (whispering)

I believe it ’s blue bonnet.

Jack (whispering)

It is n’t—she ’s in a fit.

Minnie (whisperimg)

Well, look under th’ table—(Jack peers under)—there ’s ’er bonnet. (Jack creeps forward) Come back, our Jack.

Jack (returns with the bonnet)

It ’s all made of paper.

Minnie

Let ’s have a look—it ’s stuck together, not sewed.

[She tries it on. Holroyd enters—he looks at the child.

Mrs. Holroyd (sharply, glancing round)

Take that off!

[Minnie hurriedly takes the bonnet from her head. Her father snatches it from her and puts it on the fire.

Clara

There, you ’re coming round now, love.

[Mrs. Holroyd turns away. She sees Holroyd’s eyes on the brandy-bottle, and immediately removes it, corking it up.

Mrs. Holroyd (to Clara)

You will not need this any more?

Clara

No, thanks. I ’m very much obliged.

Mrs. Holroyd (does not unbend, but speaks coldly to the children) Come, this is no place for you—come back to bed.

Minnie No, mam, I don’t want to.

Mrs. Holroyd (contralto)

Come along!

Minnie

I ’m frightened, mam.

Mrs. Holroyd

Frightened, what of?

Minnie

Oo, there was a row.

Mrs. Holroyd (taking Minnie in her arms)

Did they frighten you, my pet? (She kisses her)

Jack (in a high whisper)

Mother, it ’s pink bonnet and blue bonnet, what was dancing.

Minnie (whimpering)

I don’t want to go to bed, mam, I ’m frightened.

Clara (who has pulled off her pink bonnet and revealed a jug-handle coiffure) We ’re going now, duckie—you ’re not frightened of us, are you?

[Mrs. Holroyd takes the girl away before she can answer, Jack lingers behind.

Holroyd

Now then, get off after your mother.

Jack (taking no notice of his father)

I say, what ’s a dog’s-nose?

[Clara ups with her handkerchief and Laura responds with a faint giggle.

Holroyd

Go thy ways upstairs.

Clara

It ’s only a small whiskey with a spoonful of beer in it, my duck.

Jack

Oh!

Clara

Come here, my duck, come on.

[Jack, curious, advances.

Clara

You ’ll tell your mother we did n’t mean no harm, won’t you?

Jack (touching her earrings)

What are they made of?

Clara

They ’re only earrings. Don’t you like them?

Jack

Um! (He stands surveying her curiously. Then he touches a bracelet made of many little mosaic brooches) This is pretty, is n’t it?

Clara (pleased)

Do you like it?

[She takes it off. Suddenly Mrs. Holroyd is heard calling, “Jack, Jack!” Clara starts.

Holroyd

Now then, get off!

Clara (as Jack is reluctantly going)

Kiss me good-night, duckie, an’ give this to your sister, shall you?

[She hands Jack the mosaic bracelet. He takes it doubtfully. She kisses him. Holroyd watches in silence.

Laura (suddenly, pathetically)

Are n’t you going to give me a kiss, an’ all?

[Jack yields her his cheek, then goes.

Clara (to Holroyd)

Are n’t they nice children?

Holroyd

Ay.

Clara (briskly)

Oh, dear, you ’re very short, all of a sudden. Don’t answer if it hurts you.

Laura

My, is n’t he different?

Holroyd (laughing forcedly)

I ’m no different.

Clara

Yes, you are. You should n’t ’ave brought us if you was going to turn funny over it.

Holroyd

I ’m not funny.

Clara

No, you ’re not. (She begins to laugh. Laura joins in in spite of herself) You ’re about as solemn as a roast potato. (She flings up her hands, claps them down on her knees, and sways up and down as she laughs, Laura joining in, hand on breast) Are you ready to be mashed? (She goes off again—then suddenly wipes the laughter off her mouth and is solemn) But look ’ere, this ’ll never do. Now I ’m going to be quiet. (She prims herself)

Holroyd

Tha ’d ’appen better.

Clara

Oh, indeed! You think I ’ve got to pull a mug to look decent? You ’d have to pull a big un, at that rate.

[She bubbles off, uncontrollably—shaking herself in exasperation meanwhile. Laura joins in. Holroyd leans over close to her.

Holroyd

Tha ’s got plenty o’ fizz in thee, seemly.

Clara (putting her hand on his face and pushing it aside, but leaving her hand over his cheek and mouth like a caress) Don’t, you ’ve been drinking. (She begins to laugh)

Holroyd

Should we be goin’ then?

Clara

Where do you want to take us?

Holroyd

Oh—you please yourself o’ that! Come on wi’ me.

Clara (sitting up prim)

Oh, indeed!

Holroyd (catching hold of her)

Come on, let ’s be movin’—(he glances apprehensively at the stairs)

Clara

What ’s your hurry?

Holroyd (persuasively)

Yi, come on wi’ thee.

Clara

I don’t think. (She goes off, uncontrollably)

Holroyd (sitting on the table, just above her)

What ’s use o’ sittin’ ’ere?

Clara

I ’m very comfy: I thank thee.

Holroyd

Tha ’rt a baffling little ’ussy.

Clara (running her hand along his thigh)

Are n’t you havin’ nothing, my dear? (Offers him her glass)

Holroyd (getting down from the table and putting his hand forcibly on her shoulder) No. Come on, let ’s shift.

Clara (struggling)

Hands off!

[She fetches him a sharp slap across the face. Mrs. Holroyd is heard coming downstairs. Clara, released, sits down, smoothing herself. Holroyd looks evil. He goes out to the door.

Clara (to Mrs. Holroyd, penitently)

I don’t know what you think of us, I ’m sure.

Mrs. Holroyd

I think nothing at all.

Clara (bubbling)

So you fix your thoughts elsewhere, do you? (Suddenly changing to seriousness) No, but I have been awful to-night.

Mrs. Holroyd (contralto, emphatic)

I don’t want to know anything about you. I shall be glad when you ’ll go.

Clara

Turning-out time, Laura.

Laura (turtling)

I ’m sorry, I ’m sure.

Clara

Never mind. But as true as I ’m here, missis, I should never ha’ come if I ’d thought. But I had a drop—it all started with your husband sayin’ he was n’t a married man.

Laura (laughing and wiping her eyes)

I ’ve never knowed her to go off like it—it ’s after the time she ’s had.

Clara

You know, my husband was a brute to me—an’ I was in bed three month after he died. He was a brute, he was. This is the first time I ’ve been out; it ’s a’most the first laugh I ’ve had for a year.

Laura

It ’s true, what she says. We thought she ’d go out of ’er mind. She never spoke a word for a fortnight.

Clara

Though he’s only been dead for two months, he was a brute to me. I was as nice a young girl as you could wish when I married him and went to the Fleece Inn—I was.

Laura

Killed hisself drinking. An’ she ’s that excitable, she is. We s’ll ’ave an awful time with ’er to-morrow, I know.

Mrs. Holroyd (coldly)

I don’t know why I should hear all this.

Clara

I know I must ’ave seemed awful. An’ them children —are n’t they nice little things, Laura?

Laura

They are that.

Holroyd (entering from the door)

Hanna you about done theer?

Clara

My word, if this is the way you treat a lady when she comes to see you. (She rises)

Holroyd

I ’ll see you down th’ line.

Clara

You ’re not coming a stride with us.

Laura

We ’ve got no hat, neither of us.

Clara

We ’ve got our own hair on our heads, at any rate. (Drawing herself up suddenly in front of Mrs. Holroyd) An’ I ’ve been educated at a boarding school as good as anybody. I can behave myself either in the drawing-room or in the kitchen as is fitting and proper. But if you ’d buried a husband like mine, you would n’t feel you ’d much left to be proud of—an’ you might go off occasionally.

Mrs. Holroyd

I don’t want to hear you.

Clara (bobbing a curtsy)

Sorry I spoke.

[She goes out stiffly, followed by Laura.

Holroyd (going forward)

You mun mind th’ points down th’ line.

Clara’s Voice

I thank thee, Charlie—mind thy own points.

[He hesitates at the door—returns and sits down. There is silence in the room. Holroyd sits with his chin in his hand. Mrs. Holroyd listens. The footsteps and voices of the two women die out. Then she closes the door. Holroyd begins to unlace his boots.

Holroyd (ashamed yet defiant, withal anxious to apologize) Wheer ’s my slippers?

[Mrs. Holroyd sits on the sofa with face averted and does not answer.

Holroyd

Dost hear? (He pulls off his boots, noisily, and begins to hunt under the sofa) I canna find the things. (No answer) Humph!—then I ’ll do be ’out ’em. (He stumps about in his stocking feet; going into the scullery, he brings out the loaf of bread; he returns into the scullery) Wheer ’s th’ cheese? (No answer—suddenly) God blast it! (He hobbles into the kitchen) I ’ve trod on that brokken basin, an’ cut my foot open. (Mrs. Holroyd refuses to take any notice. He sits down and looks at his sole—pulls off his stocking and looks again) It ’s lamed me for life. (Mrs. Holroyd glances at the wound) Are ’na ter goin’ ter get me öwt for it?

Mrs. Holroyd

Psh!

Holroyd

Oh, a’ right then. (He hops to the dresser, opens a drawer, and pulls out a white rag; he is about to tear it)

Mrs. Holroyd (snatching it from him)

Don’t tear that!

Holroyd (shouting)

Then what the deuce am I to do? (Mrs. Holroyd sits stonily) Oh, a’ right then! (He hops back to his chair, sits down, and begins to pull on his stocking) A’ right then— a’ right then. (In a fever of rage he begins pulling on his boots) I ’ll go where I can find a bit o’ rag.

Mrs. Holroyd

Yes, that ’s what you want! All you want is an excuse to be off again—“a bit of rag”!

Holroyd (shouting)

An’ what man ’d want to stop in wi’ a woman sittin’ as fow as a jackass, an’ canna get a word from ’er edgeways.

Mrs. Holroyd

Don’t expect me to speak to you after to-night’s show. How dare you bring them to my house, how dare you?

Holroyd

They ’ve non hurt your house, have they?

Mrs. Holroyd

I wonder you dare to cross the doorstep.

Holroyd

I s’ll do what the deuce I like. They ’re as good as you are.

Mrs. Holroyd (stands speechless, staring at him; then low) Don’t you come near me again—

Holroyd (suddenly shouting, to get his courage up)

She ’s as good as you are, every bit of it.

Mrs. Holroyd (blazing)

Whatever I was and whatever I may be, don’t you ever come near me again.

Holroyd

What! I ’ll show thee. What ’s the hurt to you if a woman comes to the house? They ’re women as good as yourself, every whit of it.

Mrs. Holroyd

Say no more. Go with them then, and don’t come back.

Holroyd

What! Yi, I will go, an’ you s’ll see. What! You think you ’re something, since your uncle left you that money, an’ Blackymore puttin’ you up to it. I can see your little game. I ’m not as daft as you imagine. I ’m no fool, I tell you.

Mrs. Holroyd

No, you ’re not, You ’re a drunken beast, that ’s all you are.

Holroyd

What, what—I ’m what? I ’ll show you who ’s gaffer, though. (He threatens her)

Mrs. Holroyd (between her teeth)

No, it ’s not going on. If you won’t go, I will.

Holroyd

Go then, for you ’ve always been too big for your shoes, in my house—

Mrs. Holroyd

Yes—I ought never to have looked at you. Only you showed a fair face then.

Holroyd

What! What! We ’ll see who ’s master i’ this house. I tell you, I ’m goin’ to put a stop to it. (He brings his fist down on the table with a bang) It ’s going to stop. (He bangs the table again) I ’ve put up with it long enough. Do you think I ’m a dog in the house, an’ not a man, do you—

Mrs. Holroyd

A dog would be better.

Holroyd

Oh! Oh! Then we ’ll see. We ’ll see who ’s the dog and who isna. We ’re goin’ to see. (He bangs the table)

Mrs. Holroyd

Stop thumping that table! You ’ve wakened those children once, you and your trollops.

Holroyd

I shall do what the deuce I like!

Mrs. Holroyd

No more, you won’t, no more. I ’ve stood this long enough. Now I ’m going. As for you—you ’ve got a red face where she slapped you. Now go to her.

Holroyd

What? What?

Mrs. Holroyd

For I ’m sick of the sights and sounds of you.

Holroyd (bitterly)

By God, an’ I ’ve known it a long time.

Mrs. Holroyd

You have, and it ’s true.

Holroyd

An’ I know who it is th ’rt hankerin’ after.

Mrs. Holroyd

I only want to be rid of you.

Holroyd

I know it mighty well. But I know him!

[Mrs. Holroyd, sinking down on the sofa, suddenly begins to sob half-hysterically. Holroyd watches her. As suddenly, she dries her eyes.

Mrs. Holroyd

Do you think I care about what you say? (Suddenly) Oh, I ’ve had enough. I ’ve tried, I ’ve tried for years, for the children’s sakes. Now I ’ve had enough of your shame and disgrace.

Holroyd

Oh, indeed!

Mrs. Holroyd (her voice is dull and inflexible)

I ’ve had enough. Go out again after those trollops—leave me alone. I ’ve had enough. (Holroyd stands looking at her) Go, I mean it, go out again. And if you never come back again, I ’m glad. I ’ve had enough. (She keeps her face averted, will not look at him, her attitude expressing thorough weariness)

Holroyd

All right then!

[He hobbles, in un;aced hoots, to the door. Then he turns to look at her. She turns herself still farther away, so that her back is toward him. He goes.

CURTAIN