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 —