One Day More | Page 5

upset him so? What's the
meaning of all this fuss? He isn't always like that, is he?
Bessie. I don't know who you are; but I may tell you that his mind has
been troubled for years about an only son who ran away from home--a
long time ago. Everybody knows that here.
Harry (Thoughtful). Troubled--for years! (Suddenly.) Well, I am the
son.
Bessie (Steps back). You! . .. Harry!
Harry (Amused, dry tone). Got hold of my name, eh? Been making
friends with the old man?
Bessie (Distressed). Yes... I... sometimes. . . (Rapidly!) He's our
landlord.
Harry (Scornfully). Owns both them rabbit hutches, does he? Just a
thing he'd be proud of... (Earnest.) And now you had better tell me all
about that chap who's coming to-morrow. Know anything of him? I
reckon there's more than one in that little game. Come! Out with it!
(Chaffing.) I don't take no... from women.
Bessie (Bewildered). Oh! It's so difficult... What had I better do?...
Harry (Good-humoured). Make a clean breast of it.
Bessie (Wildly to herself). Impossible! (Starts.) You don't understand. I
must think--see--try to--I, I must have time. Plenty of time.
Harry. What for? Come. Two words. And don't be afraid for yourself. I
ain't going to make it a police job. But it's the other fellow that'll get
upset when he least expects it. There'll be some fun when he shows his
mug here to-morrow. (Snaps fingers.) I don't care that for the old man's
dollars, but right is right. You shall see me put a head on that coon,
whoever he is.

Bessie (Wrings hands slightly). What had I better do? (_Suddenly to
Harry_.) It's you--you yourself that we--that he's waiting for. It's you
who are to come to-morrow.
Harry (Slowly). Oh! it's me! (Perplexed.) There's something there I
can't understand. I haven't written ahead or anything. It was my chum
who showed me the advertisement with the old boy's address, this very
morning--in London.
Bessie (Anxious). How can I make it plain to you without... (_Bites her
lip, embarrassed_.) Sometimes he talks so strangely.
Harry (Expectant). Does he? What about?
Bessie. Only you. And he will stand no contradicting.
Harry. Stubborn. Eh? The old man hasn't changed much from what I
can remember. (They stand looking at each other helplessly.)
Bessie. He's made up his mind you would come back . . . to-morrow.
Harry. I can't hang about here till morning. Got no money to get a bed.
Not a cent. But why won't to-day do?
Bessie. Because you've been too long away.
Harry (With force). Look here, they fairly drove me out. Poor mother
nagged at me for being idle, and the old man said he would cut my soul
out of my body rather than let me go to sea.
Bessie (Murmurs). He can bear no contradicting.
Harry (Continuing). Well, it looked as tho' he would do it too. So I
went. (Moody.) It seems to me sometimes I was born to them by a
mistake... in that other rabbit hutch of a house.
Bessie (A little mocking). And where do you think you ought to have
been born by rights?

Harry. In the open--upon a beach--on a windy night.
Bessie (Faintly). Ah!
Harry. They were characters, both of them, by George! Shall I try the
door?
Bessie. Wait. I must explain to you why it is to-morrow.
Harry. Aye. That you must, or...
(Window in H.'s cottage runs up.)
Capt. H.'s Voice (Above). A--grinning--information--fellow coming to
worry me in my own garden! What next?
(Window rumbles down.)
Bessie. Yes. I must. (Lays hand on Harry's sleeve.) Let's get further off.
Nobody ever comes this way after dark.
Harry (Careless laugh). Aye. A good road for a walk with a girl.
(_They turn their backs on audience and move up the stage slowly.
Close together. Harry bends his head over Bessie_).
Bessie's Voice (Beginning eagerly). People here somehow did not take
kindly to him.
Harry's Voice. Aye. Aye. I understand that.
(They walk slowly back towards the front.)
Bessie. He was almost ready to starve himself for your sake.
Harry. And I had to starve more than once for his whim.
Bessie. I'm afraid you've a hard heart. (Remains thoughtful.)

Harry. What for? For running away? (Indignant.) Why, he wanted to
make a blamed lawyer's clerk of me.
(From here this scene goes on mainly near and about the street lamp.)
Bessie (Rousing herself). What are you? A sailor?
Harry. Anything you like. (Proudly.) Sailor enough to be worth my salt
on board any craft that swims the seas.
Bessie. He will never, never believe it. He mustn't be contradicted.
Harry. Always liked to have his own way. And you've been
encouraging him.
Bessie (Earnestly). No!--not in everything--not really!
Harry (Vexed laugh). What about that