The Fourth Series Plays | Page 4

be'ave before confirmation? Yu be'ave like I did! Now,
goo ahn! Shoo!
[She hustles them out, rather as she might hustle her chickens, and
begins tidying the room. There comes a wandering figure to the open
window. It is that of a man of about thirty-five, of feeble gait, leaning
the weight of all one side of him on a stick. His dark face, with black
hair, one lock of which has gone white, was evidently once that of an
ardent man. Now it is slack, weakly smiling, and the brown eyes are
lost, and seem always to be asking something to which there is no
answer.]
MRS. BURLACOMBE. [With that forced cheerfulness always
assumed in the face of too great misfortune] Well, Jim! better? [At the
faint brightening of the smile] That's right! Yu'm gettin' on bravely.
Want Parson?
JIM. [Nodding and smiling, and speaking slowly] I want to tell 'un
about my cat.
[His face loses its smile.]
MRS. BURLACOMBE. Why! what's she been duin' then? Mr.
Strangway's busy. Won't I du?
JIM. [Shaking his head] No. I want to tell him.
MRS. BURLACOMBE. Whatever she been duin'? Havin' kittens?
JIM. No. She'm lost.
MRS. BURLACOMBE. Dearie me! Aw! she'm not lost. Cats be like
maids; they must get out a bit.
JIM. She'm lost. Maybe he'll know where she'll be.
MRS. BURLACOMBE. Well, well. I'll go an' find 'im.
JIM. He's a gude man. He's very gude.
MRS. BURLACOMBE. That's certain zure.
STRANGWAY. [Entering from the house] Mrs. Burlacombe, I can't
think where I've put my book on St. Francis--the large, squarish
pale-blue one?
MRS. BURLACOMBE. Aw! there now! I knu there was somethin' on
me mind. Miss Willis she came in yesterday afternune when yu was out,
to borrow it. Oh! yes--I said--I'm zure Mr. Strangway'll lend it 'ee. Now

think o' that!
STRANGWAY. Of course, Mrs. Burlacombe; very glad she's got it.
MRS. BURLACOMBE. Aw! but that's not all. When I tuk it up there
come out a whole flutter o' little bits o' paper wi' little rhymes on 'em,
same as I see yu writin'. Aw! my gudeness! I says to meself, Mr.
Strangway widn' want no one seein' them.
STRANGWAY. Dear me! No; certainly not!
MRS. BURLACOMBE. An' so I putt 'em in your secretary.
STRANGWAY. My-ah! Yes. Thank you; yes.
MRS. BURLACOMBE. But I'll goo over an' get the buke for yu. 'T
won't take me 'alf a minit.
[She goes out on to the green. JIM BERE has come in.]
STRANGWAY. [Gently] Well, Jim?
JIM. My cat's lost.
STRANGWAY. Lost?
JIM. Day before yesterday. She'm not come back. They've shot 'er, I
think; or she'm caught in one o' they rabbit-traps.
STRANGWAY. Oh! no; my dear fellow, she'll come back. I'll speak to
Sir Herbert's keepers.
JIM. Yes, zurr. I feel lonesome without 'er.
STRANGWAY. [With a faint smile--more to himself than to Jim]
Lonesome! Yes! That's bad, Jim! That's bad!
JIM. I miss 'er when I sits than in the avenin'.
STRANGWAY. The evenings----They're the worst----and when the
blackbirds sing in the morning.
JIM. She used to lie on my bed, ye know, zurr.
[STRANGWAY turns his face away, contracted with pain]
She'm like a Christian.
STRANGWAY. The beasts are.
JIM. There's plenty folk ain't 'alf as Christian as 'er be.
STRANGWAY. Well, dear Jim, I'll do my very best. And any time
you're lonely, come up, and I'll play the flute to you.
JIM. [Wriggling slightly] No, zurr. Thank 'ee, zurr.
STRANGWAY. What--don't you like music?
JIM. Ye-es, zurr. [A figure passes the window. Seeing it he says with
his slow smile] "'Ere's Mrs. Bradmere, comin' from the Rectory." [With
queer malice] She don't like cats. But she'm a cat 'erself, I think.

STRANGWAY. [With his smile] Jim!
JIM. She'm always tellin' me I'm lukin' better. I'm not better, zurr.
STRANGWAY. That's her kindness.
JIM. I don't think it is. 'Tis laziness, an' 'avin' 'er own way. She'm very
fond of 'er own way.
[A knock on the door cuts off his speech. Following closely on the
knock, as though no doors were licensed to be closed against her, a
grey-haired lady enters; a capable, broad-faced woman of seventy,
whose every tone and movement exhales authority. With a nod and a
"good morning" to STRANGWAY she turns at face to JIM BERE.]
MRS. BRADMERE Ah! Jim; you're looking better.
[JIM BERE shakes his head. MRS. BRADMERE. Oh! yes, you are.
Getting on splendidly. And now, I just want to speak to Mr.
Strangway.]
[JIM BERE touches his forelock, and slowly, leaning on his stick, goes
out.]
MRS. BRADMERE. [Waiting for the door to close] You know how
that came on him? Caught the girl he was engaged to, one night, with
another man, the rage broke something here. [She touches her