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                           THE WIDOWING OF
                             MRS. HOLROYD

                        A DRAMA IN THREE ACTS

                                  BY
                            D. H. LAWRENCE

                                LONDON
                           DUCKWORTH & CO.
              3, HENRIETTA STREET, COVENT GARDEN, W. C.
                                 1914




                          COPYRIGHT 1914 BY
                          MITCHELL KENNERLEY

                          THE·PLIMPTON·PRESS
                          NORWOOD·MASS·U·S·A




                               CONTENTS


                                             PAGE

    INTRODUCTION                              vii

    THE WIDOWING OF MRS. HOLROYD                1




                             INTRODUCTION


D. H. Lawrence is one of the most significant of the new generation
of writers just beginning to appear in England. One of their chief
marks is that they seem to step forward full-grown, without a history
to account for their maturity. Another characteristic is that they
frequently spring from social layers which in the past had to remain
largely voiceless. And finally, they have all in their blood what
their elders had to acquire painfully: that is, an evolutionary
conception of life.

Three years ago the author of "The Widowing of Mrs. Holroyd" was
wholly unknown, having not yet published a single work. To-day he has
to his credit three novels--"The White Peacock," "The Trespasser"
and "Sons and Lovers"--a collection of verse entitled "Love Poems,"
and the play contained in this volume. All of these works, but in
particular the play and the latest novel, prove their author a man
gifted with a strikingly original vision, a keen sense of beauty, an
equally keen sense of verbal values, and a sincerity, which makes him
see and tell the truth where even the most audacious used to falter in
the past. Flaubert himself was hardly less free from the old curse of
sentimentalizing compromise--and yet this young writer knows how to
tell the utmost truth with a daintiness that puts offence out of the
question.

He was born twenty-seven years ago in a coal-miner's cottage at
the little colliery town of Eastwood, on the border line between
Nottingham and Derbyshire. The home was poor, yet not without certain
aspirations and refinements. It was the mother who held it together,
who saved it from a still more abject poverty, and who filled it with
a spirit that made it possible for the boy--her youngest son--to keep
alive the gifts still slumbering undiscovered within him. In "Sons and
Lovers" we get the picture of just such a home and such a mother, and
it seems safe to conclude that the novel in question is in many ways
autobiographical.

At the age of twelve the boy won a County Council Scholarship--and
came near having to give it up because he found that the fifteen
pounds a year conferred by it would barely pay the fees at the
Nottingham High School and the railway fares to that city. But his
mother's determination and self-sacrifice carried him safely past the
seemingly impossible. At sixteen he left school to earn his living
as a clerk. Illness saved him from that uncongenial fate. Instead he
became a teacher, having charge of a class of colliers' boys in one of
those rough, old-fashioned British schools where all the classes used
to fight against one another within a single large room. Before the
classes convened in the morning, at eight o'clock, he himself received
instruction from the head-master; at night he continued his studies
in the little kitchen at home, where all the rest of the family were
wont to fore gather. At nineteen he found himself, to his own and
everybody else's astonishment, the first on the list of the King's
Scholarship examination, and from that on he was, to use his own
words, "considered clever." But the lack of twenty pounds needed in a
lump sum to pay the entrance fee at the training college for teachers
made it impossible for him to make use of the gained advantage.

Two years later, however, he succeeded in matriculating at the
Nottingham Day Training College. But by that time the creative impulse
had already begun to stir within him, aided by an early love affair,
and so he wrote poems and worked at his first novel when he should
have been studying. At twenty-three he left the college and went to
London to teach school, to study French and German, and to write. At
twenty-five he had his first novel--"The White Peacock"--accepted and
printed. But the death of his mother only a month before that event
made his victory seem useless and joyless. After the publication of
his second novel, in 1912, he became able to give up teaching in
order to devote himself entirely to his art. Out of that leisure--and
perhaps also out of the sorrow caused by the loss of her who until
then had been the mainspring of his life--came "Sons and Lovers" and
"The Widowing of Mrs. Holroyd."

What has struck me most deeply in these two works--apart from
their splendid craftsmanship--is their psychological penetration,
so closely paralleling the most recent conclusions of the world's
leading thinkers. In the hands of this writer, barely emerged out of
obscurity, sex becomes almost a new thing. Not only the relationship
between man and woman, but also that of mother and child is laid bare
in a new light which startles--or even shocks--but which nevertheless
compels acceptance. One might think that Mr. Lawrence had carefully
studied and employed the very latest theories of such men as Freud,
for instance, and yet it is a pretty safe bet that most of his
studies have been carried on in his own soul, within his own memories.
Thus it is proved once more that what the student gropingly reasons
out for abstract formulation is flashed upon the poetic dreamer in
terms of living reality.

Another thing that has impressed me is the aspect in which Mr.
Lawrence presents the home life of those hitherto submerged classes
which are now at last reaching out for a full share in the general
social and cultural inheritance. He writes of that life, not only with
a knowledge obtained at first hand, but with a sympathy that scorns
any apologetic phrase-mongering. Having read him, one feels inclined
to conclude, in spite of all conflicting testimony, that the slum
is not a location, but a state of mind, and that everywhere, on all
levels, the individual soul may create around itself an atmosphere
expressive of its ideals. A book like "Sons and Lovers" ought to go
far to prove that most of the qualities held peculiar to the best
portion of the "ruling classes" are nothing but the typical marks of
normal humanity.

    EDWIN BJÖRKMAN.




                     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 back 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 stair foot
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 can 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, aren'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 aren'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 isn'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 doesn'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 samthing"--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
isn'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 wouldn't if you was here.

JACK

He dursn'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 didn'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 hadn't been for him, so that he shouldn'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 weren'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
firelight in here--Sometimes I put my hand on the wall outside where
the chimney runs up to feel it warm--There isn'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 needn'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 aren'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 doesn'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 in 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_) I 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, aren'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 feel fair bad.

CLARA

'Aven'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 stair foot 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 stair
foot 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 isn't--she's in a fit.

MINNIE (_whispering_)

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 didn'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, isn'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_)

Aren't you going to give me a kiss, an' all?

[_Jack yields her his cheek, then goes._

CLARA (_to Holroyd_)

Aren'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, isn't he different?

HOLROYD (_laughing forcedly_)

I'm no different.

CLARA

Yes, you are. You shouldn'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_)

Aren'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 wasn'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--aren'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 wouldn'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 dawn 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 unlaced boots, 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


THE SECOND ACT


_The scene is the same, two hours later. The cottage is in darkness,
save for the firelight. On the table is spread a newspaper. A cup
and saucer, a plate, a piece of bacon in the frying tin are on the
newspaper ready for the miner's breakfast. Mrs. Holroyd has gone to
bed. There is a noise of heavy stumbling down the three steps outside._

BLACKMORE'S VOICE

Steady, now, steady. It's all in darkness. Missis!--Has she gone to
bed?

[_He tries the latch--shakes the door._

HOLROYD'S VOICE (_he is drunk_)

Her's locked me out. Let me smash that bloody door in. Come out--come
out--ussza! (_He strikes a heavy blow on the door. There is a scuffle_)

BLACKMORE'S VOICE

Hold on a bit--what're you doing?

HOLROYD'S VOICE

I'm smashing that blasted door in.

MRS. HOLROYD (_appearing and suddenly drawing the bolts,
flinging the door open_) What do you think you're doing?

HOLROYD (_lurching into the room, snarling_)

What? What? Tha thought tha'd play thy monkey tricks on me, did
ter? (_Shouting_) But I'm going to show thee. (_He lurches at her
threateningly; she recoils_)

BLACKMORE (_seizing him by the arm_)

Here, here,--! Come and sit down and be quiet.

HOLROYD (_snarling at him_)

What?--What? An' what's thäigh got ter do wi' it? (_Shouting_) What's
thäigh got ter do wi' it?

BLACKMORE

Nothing--nothing; but it's getting late, and you want your supper.

HOLROYD (_shouting_)

I want nöwt. I'm allowed nöwt in this 'ouse. (_Shouting louder_) 'Er
begrudges me ivry morsel I ha'e.

MRS. HOLROYD

Oh, what a story!

HOLROYD (_shouting_)

It's the truth, an' you know it.

BLACKMORE (_conciliatory_)

You'll rouse the children. You'll rouse the children, at this hour.

HOLROYD (_suddenly quiet_)

Not me--not if I know it. _I_ shan't disturb 'em--bless 'em.

[_He staggers to his armchair and sits heavily._

BLACKMORE

Shall I light the lamp?

MRS. HOLROYD

No, don't trouble. Don't stay any longer, there's no need.

BLACKMORE (_quietly_)

I'll just see it's all right.

[_He proceeds in silence to light the lamp. Holroyd is seen dropping
forward in his chair. He has a cut on his cheek. Mrs. Holroyd is in
an old-fashioned dressing-gown. Blackmore has an overcoat buttoned up
to his chin. There is a very large lump of coal on the red fire._

MRS. HOLROYD

Don't stay any longer.

BLACKMORE

I'll see it's all right.

MRS. HOLROYD

I shall be all right. He'll go to sleep now.

BLACKMORE

But he can't go like that.

MRS. HOLROYD

What has he done to his face?

BLACKMORE

He had a row with Jim Goodwin.

MRS. HOLROYD

What about?

BLACKMORE

I don't know.

MRS. HOLROYD

The beast!

BLACKMORE

By Jove, and isn't he a weight! He's getting fat, must be--

MRS. HOLROYD

He's big made--he has a big frame.

BLACKMORE

Whatever he is, it took me all my time to get him home. I thought I'd
better keep an eye on him. I knew you'd be worrying. So I sat in the
smoke room and waited for him. Though it's a dirty hole--and dull as
hell.

MRS. HOLROYD

Why did you bother?

BLACKMORE

Well, I thought you'd be upset about him. I had to drink three
whiskies--had to, in all conscience--(_smiling_)

MRS. HOLROYD

I don't want to be the ruin of you.

BLACKMORE (_smiling_)

Don't you? I thought he'd pitch forward onto the lines and crack his
skull.

[_Holroyd has been sinking farther and farther forward in drunken
sleep. He suddenly jerks too far and is awakened. He sits upright,
glaring fiercely and dazedly at the two, who instantly cease talking._

HOLROYD (_to Blackmore_)

What are thäigh doin' 'ere?

BLACKMORE

Why, I came along with you.

HOLROYD

Thou'rt a liar, I'm only just come in.

MRS. HOLROYD (_coldly_)

He is no liar at all. He brought you home because you were too drunk
to come yourself.

HOLROYD (_starting up_)

Thou'rt a liar! I niver set eyes on him this night, afore now.

MRS. HOLROYD (_with a "Pf" of contempt_)

You don't know what you _have_ done to-night.

HOLROYD (_shouting_)

I s'll not have it, I tell thee.

MRS. HOLROYD

Psh!

HOLROYD

I s'll not ha'e it. I s'll ha'e no carryin's on i' my 'ouse--

MRS. HOLROYD (_shrugging her shoulders_)

Talk when you've got some sense.

HOLROYD (_fiercely_)

I've as much sense as thäigh. Am I a fool? Canna I see? What's _he_
doin' here then, answer me that. What--?

MRS. HOLROYD

Mr. Blackmore came to bring _you_ home, because you were _too drunk_
to find your own way. And this is the thanks he gets.

HOLROYD (_contemptuously_)

Blackymore, Blackymore. It's him tha cuts thy cloth by, is it?

MRS. HOLROYD (_hotly_)

You don't know what you're talking about, so keep your tongue still.

HOLROYD (_bitingly_)

I don't know what I'm talking about--I don't know what I'm talking
about--don't I? An' what about him standing there then, if I don't
know what I'm talking about?--What?

BLACKMORE

You've been to sleep, Charlie, an' forgotten I came in with you, not
long since.

HOLROYD

I'm not daft, I'm not a fool. I've got eyes in my head, and sense. You
needn't try to get over me. I know what you're up to.

BLACKMORE (_flushing_)

It's a bit off to talk to me like that, Charlie, I must say.

HOLROYD

I'm not good enough for 'er. She wants Mr. Blackymore. He's a
gentleman, he is. Now we have it all; now we understand.

MRS. HOLROYD

I wish you understood enough to keep your tongue still.

HOLROYD

What? What? I'm to keep my tongue still, am I? An' what about _Mr.
Blackymore_?

MRS. HOLROYD (_fiercely_)

Stop your mouth, you--you vulgar, low-minded brute.

HOLROYD

Am I? Am I? An' what are you? What tricks are you up to, an' all? But
that's all right--that's all right. (_Shouting_) That's all right, if
it's _you_.

BLACKMORE

I think I'd better go. You seem to enjoy--er--er--calumniating your
wife.

HOLROYD (_mockingly_)

Calamniating--calamniating--I'll give you calamniating, you
mealy-mouthed jockey: I'll give you calamniating.

BLACKMORE

I think you've said about enough.

HOLROYD

'Ave I, 'ave I? Yer flimsy jack--'ave I? (_In a sudden burst_) But
I've not done wi' thee yet.

BLACKMORE (_ironically_)

No, and you haven't.

HOLROYD (_shouting--pulling himself up from the armchair_)
I'll show thee--I'll show thee.

[_Blackmore laughs._

HOLROYD

Yes!--yes, my young monkey. It's thäigh, is it?

BLACKMORE

Yes, it's _me_.

HOLROYD (_shouting_)

An' I'll ma'e thee wish it worn't, I will. What--? What--? Tha'd come
slivin' round here, would ta? (_He lurches forward at Blackmore with
clenched fist_)

MRS. HOLROYD

Drunken, drunken fool--oh, don't.

HOLROYD (_turning to her_)

What?

[_She puts up her hands before her face. Blackmore seizes the upraised
arm and swings Holroyd round._

BLACKMORE (_in a towering passion_)

Mind what tha'rt doing!

HOLROYD (_turning fiercely on him--incoherent_)

Wha'--wha'--!

[_He aims a heavy blow. Blackmore evades it, so that he is struck on
the side of the chest. Suddenly he shows his teeth. He raises his
fists ready to strike Holroyd when the latter stands to advantage._

MRS. HOLROYD (_rushing upon Blackmore_)

No, no! Oh, no!

[_She flies and opens the door, and goes out. Blackmore glances after
her, then at Holroyd, who is preparing, like a bull, for another
charge. The young man's face lights up._

HOLROYD

Wha'--wha'--!

[_As he advances, Blackmore quickly retreats out-of-doors. Holroyd
plunges upon him. Blackmore slips behind the door-jamb, puts out his
foot, and trips Holroyd with a crash upon the brick yard._

MRS. HOLROYD

Oh, what has he done to himself?

BLACKMORE (_thickly_)

Tumbled over himself.

[_Holroyd is seen struggling to rise, and is heard incoherently
cursing._

MRS. HOLROYD

Aren't you going to get him up?

BLACKMORE

What for?

MRS. HOLROYD

But what shall we do?

BLACKMORE

Let him go to hell.

[_Holroyd, who had subsided, begins to snarl and struggle again._

MRS. HOLROYD (_in terror_)

He's getting up.

BLACKMORE

All right, let him.

[_Mrs. Holroyd looks at Blackmore, suddenly afraid of him also._

HOLROYD (_in a last frenzy_)

I'll show thee--I'll--

[_He raises himself up, and is just picking his balance when
Blackmore, with a sudden light kick, sends him sprawling again. He is
seen on the edge of the light to collapse into stupor._

MRS. HOLROYD

He'll kill you, he'll kill you!

[_Blackmore laughs short._

MRS. HOLROYD

Would you believe it! Oh, isn't it awful! (_She begins to weep in
a little hysteria; Blackmore stands with his back leaning on the
doorway, grinning in a strained fashion_) Is he hurt, do you think?

BLACKMORE

I don't know--I should think not.

MRS. HOLROYD

I wish he was dead; I do, with all my heart.

BLACKMORE

Do you? (_He looks at her quickly; she wavers and shrinks; he begins
to smile strainedly as before_) You don't know _what_ you wish, or
what you want.

MRS. HOLROYD (_troubled_)

Do you think I could get past him to come inside?

BLACKMORE

I should think so.

[_Mrs. Holroyd, silent and troubled, manœuvres in the doorway,
stepping over her husband's feet, which lie on the threshold._

BLACKMORE

Why, you've got no shoes and stockings on!

MRS. HOLROYD

No. (_She enters the house and stands trembling before the fire_)

BLACKMORE (_following her_)

Are you cold?

MRS. HOLROYD

A little--with standing on the yard.

BLACKMORE

What a shame!

[_She, uncertain of herself, sits down. He drops on one knee,
awkwardly, and takes her feet in his hands._

MRS. HOLROYD

Don't--no, don't!

BLACKMORE

They are frightfully cold. (_He remains, with head sunk, for some
moments, then slowly rises_) Damn him!

[_They look at each other; then, at the same time, turn away._

MRS. HOLROYD

We can't leave him lying there.

BLACKMORE

No--no! I'll bring him in.

MRS. HOLROYD

But--!

BLACKMORE

He won't wake again. The drink will have got hold of him by now. (_He
hesitates_) Could you take hold of his feet--he's so heavy.

MRS. HOLROYD

Yes.

[_They go out and are seen stooping over Holroyd._

BLACKMORE

Wait, wait, till I've got him--half a minute.

[_Mrs. Holroyd backs in first. They carry Holroyd in and lay him on
the sofa._

MRS. HOLROYD

Doesn't he look awful?

BLACKMORE

It's more mark than mar. It isn't much, really.

[_He is busy taking off Holroyd's collar and tie, unfastening the
waistcoat, the braces and the waist buttons of the trousers; he then
proceeds to unlace the drunken man's boots._

MRS. HOLROYD (_who has been watching closely_)

I shall never get him upstairs.

BLACKMORE

He can sleep here, with a rug or something to cover him. _You_ don't
want him--upstairs?

MRS. HOLROYD

Never again.

BLACKMORE (_after a moment or two of silence_)

He'll be all right down here. Have you got a rug?

MRS. HOLROYD

Yes.

[_She goes upstairs. Blackmore goes into the scullery, returning with
a lading can and towel. He gets hot water from the boiler. Then,
kneeling down, he begins to wipe the drunken man's face lightly with
the flannel, to remove the blood and dirt._

MRS. HOLROYD (_returning_)

What are you doing?

BLACKMORE

Only wiping his face to get the dirt out.

MRS. HOLROYD

I wonder if he'd do as much for you.

BLACKMORE

I hope not.

MRS. HOLROYD

Isn't he horrible, horrible--

BLACKMORE (_looks up at her_)

Don't look at him then.

MRS. HOLROYD

I can't take it in, it's too much.

BLACKMORE

He won't wake. I will stay with you.

MRS. HOLROYD (_earnestly_)

No--oh, no.

BLACKMORE

There will be the drawn sword between us. (_He indicates the figure of
Holroyd, which lies, in effect, as a barrier between them_)

MRS. HOLROYD (_blushing_)

Don't!

BLACKMORE

I'm sorry.

MRS. HOLROYD (_after watching him for a few moments lightly
wiping the sleeping man's face with a towel_) I wonder you can be so
careful over him.

BLACKMORE (_quietly_)

It's only because he's helpless.

MRS. HOLROYD

But why should you love him ever so little?

BLACKMORE

I don't--only he's helpless. Five minutes since I could have killed
him.

MRS. HOLROYD

Well, I don't understand you men.

BLACKMORE

Why?

MRS. HOLROYD

I don't know.

BLACKMORE

I thought as I stood in that doorway, and he was trying to get up--I
wished as hard as I've ever wished anything in my life--

MRS. HOLROYD

What?

BLACKMORE

That I'd killed him. I've never wished anything so much in my life--if
wishes were anything.

MRS. HOLROYD

Don't, it _does_ sound awful.

BLACKMORE

I _could_ have done it, too. He ought to be dead.

MRS. HOLROYD (_pleading_)

No, don't! You know you don't mean it, and you make me feel so awful.

BLACKMORE

I do mean it. It is simply true, what I say.

MRS. HOLROYD

But don't say it.

BLACKMORE

No?

MRS. HOLROYD

No, we've had enough.

BLACKMORE

Give me the rug.

[_She hands it him, and he tucks Holroyd up._

MRS. HOLROYD

You only do it to play on my feelings.

BLACKMORE (_laughing shortly_)

And now give me a pillow--thanks.

[_There is a pause--both look at the sleeping man._

BLACKMORE

I suppose you're fond of him, really.

MRS. HOLROYD

No more.

BLACKMORE

You _were_ fond of him?

MRS. HOLROYD

I was--yes.

BLACKMORE

What did you like in him?

MRS. HOLROYD (_uneasily_)

I don't know.

BLACKMORE

I suppose you really care about him, even now.

MRS. HOLROYD

Why are you so sure of it?

BLACKMORE

Because I think it is so.

MRS. HOLROYD

I did care for him--now he has destroyed it--

BLACKMORE

I don't believe he can destroy it.

MRS. HOLROYD (_with a short laugh_)

Don't you? When you are married you try. You'll find it isn't so hard.

BLACKMORE

But what did you like in him--because he was good-looking, and strong,
and that?

MRS. HOLROYD

I liked that as well. But if a man makes a nuisance of himself, his
good looks are ugly to you, and his strength loathsome. Do you think I
_care_ about a man because he's got big fists, when he is a coward in
his real self?

BLACKMORE

Is he a coward?

MRS. HOLROYD

He _is_--a pettifogging, paltry one.

BLACKMORE

And so you've really done with him?

MRS. HOLROYD

I have.

BLACKMORE

And what are you going to do?

MRS. HOLROYD

I don't know.

BLACKMORE

I suppose nothing. You'll just go on--even if you've done with
him--you'll go on with him.

[_There is a long pause._

BLACKMORE

But was there nothing else in him but his muscles and his good looks
to attract you to him?

MRS. HOLROYD

Why? What does it matter?

BLACKMORE

What did you _think_ he was?

MRS. HOLROYD

Why must we talk about him?

BLACKMORE

Because I can never quite believe you.

MRS. HOLROYD

I can't help whether you believe it or not.

BLACKMORE

Are you just in a rage with him, because of to-night?

MRS. HOLROYD

I know, to-night finished it. But it was never right between us.

BLACKMORE

Never?

MRS. HOLROYD

Not once. And then to-night--no, it's too much; I can't stand any more
of it.

BLACKMORE

I suppose he got tipsy. Then he said he wasn't a married man--vowed he
wasn't, to those paper bonnets. They found out he was, and said he was
frightened of his wife getting to know. Then he said they should all
go to supper at his house--I suppose they came out of mischief.

MRS. HOLROYD

He did it to insult me.

BLACKMORE

Oh, he was a bit tight--you can't say it was deliberate.

MRS. HOLROYD

No, but it shows how he feels toward me. The feeling comes out in
drink.

BLACKMORE

How does he feel toward you?

MRS. HOLROYD

He wants to insult me, and humiliate me, in every moment of his life.
Now I simply despise him.

BLACKMORE

You really don't care any more about him?

MRS. HOLROYD

No.

BLACKMORE (_hesitates_)

And you would leave him?

MRS. HOLROYD

I would leave him, and not care _that_ about him any more. (_She snaps
her fingers_)

BLACKMORE

Will you come with me?

MRS. HOLROYD (_after a reluctant pause_)

Where?

BLACKMORE

To Spain: I can any time have a job there, in a decent part. You could
take the children.

[_The figure of the sleeper stirs uneasily--they watch him._

BLACKMORE

Will you?

MRS. HOLROYD

When would you go?

BLACKMORE

To-morrow, if you like.

MRS. HOLROYD

But why do you want to saddle yourself with me and the children?

BLACKMORE

Because I want to.

MRS. HOLROYD

But you don't love me?

BLACKMORE

Why don't I?

MRS. HOLROYD

You don't.

BLACKMORE

I don't know about that. I don't know anything about love. Only I've
gone on for a year now, and it's got stronger and stronger--

MRS. HOLROYD

What has?

BLACKMORE

This--this wanting you, to live with me. I took no notice of it for a
long time. Now I can't get away from it, at no hour and nohow. (_He
still avoids direct contact with her_)

MRS. HOLROYD

But you'd _like_ to get away from it.

BLACKMORE

I hate a mess of any sort. But if you'll come away with me--you and
the children--

MRS. HOLROYD

But I couldn't--you don't love me--

BLACKMORE

I don't know what you mean by I don't love you.

MRS. HOLROYD

I can feel it.

BLACKMORE

And do you love _me_? (_A pause_)

MRS. HOLROYD

I don't know. Everything is so--so--

[_There is a long pause._

BLACKMORE

How old are you?

MRS. HOLROYD

Thirty-two.

BLACKMORE

I'm twenty-seven.

MRS. HOLROYD

And have you never been in love?

BLACKMORE

I don't think so. I don't know.

MRS. HOLROYD

But you must know. I must go and shut that door that keeps clicking.

[_She rises to go upstairs, making a clatter at the stair foot door.
The noise rouses her husband. As she goes upstairs, he moves, makes
coughing sounds, turns over, and then suddenly sits upright, gazing
at Blackmore. The latter sits perfectly still on the sofa, his head
dropped, hiding his face. His hands are clasped. They remain thus for
a minute._

HOLROYD

Hello! (_He stares fixedly_) Hello! (_His tone is undecided, as if he
mistrusts himself_) What are--who are ter? (_Blackmore does not move;
Holroyd stares blankly; he then turns and looks at the room_) Well, I
dunna know.

[_He staggers to his feet, clinging to the table, and goes groping to
the stairs. They creak loudly under his weight. A doorlatch is heard
to click. In a moment Mrs. Holroyd comes quickly downstairs._

BLACKMORE

Has he gone to bed?

MRS. HOLROYD (_nodding_)

Lying on the bed.

BLACKMORE

Will he settle now?

MRS. HOLROYD

I don't know. He is like that sometimes. He will have delirium tremens
if he goes on.

BLACKMORE (_softly_)

You can't stay with him, you know.

MRS. HOLROYD

And the children?

BLACKMORE

We'll take them.

MRS. HOLROYD

Oh!

[_Her face puckers to cry. Suddenly he starts up and puts his arms
round her, holding her protectively and gently, very caressingly. She
clings to him. They are silent for some moments._

BLACKMORE (_struggling, in an altered voice_)

Look at me and kiss me.

[_Her sobs are heard distinctly. Blackmore lays his hand on her cheek,
caressing her always with his hand._

BLACKMORE

My God, but I hate him! I wish either he was dead or me. (_Mrs.
Holroyd hides against him; her sobs cease; after a while he continues
in the same murmuring fashion_) It can't go on like it any more. I
feel as if I should come in two. I can't keep away from you. I simply
can't. Come with me. Come with me and leave him. If you knew what a
hell it is for me to have you here--and to see him. I can't go without
you, I can't. It's been hell every moment for six months now. You say
I don't love you. Perhaps I don't, for all I know about it. But oh, my
God, don't keep me like it any longer. Why should _he_ have you--and
I've never had anything.

MRS. HOLROYD

Have you never loved anybody?

BLACKMORE

No--I've tried. Kiss me of your own wish--will you?

MRS. HOLROYD

I don't know.

BLACKMORE (_after a pause_)

Let's break clear. Let's go right away. Do you care for me?

MRS. HOLROYD

I don't know. (_She loosens herself, rises dumbly_)

BLACKMORE

When do you think you _will_ know?

[_She sits down helplessly._

MRS. HOLROYD

I don't know.

BLACKMORE

Yes, you do know, really. If he was dead, should you marry me?

MRS. HOLROYD

Don't say it--

BLACKMORE

Why not? If wishing of mine would kill him, he'd soon be out of the
way.

MRS. HOLROYD

But the children!

BLACKMORE

I'm fond of them. I shall have good money.

MRS. HOLROYD

But he's their father.

BLACKMORE

What does that mean--?

MRS. HOLROYD

Yes, I know--(_a pause_) but--

BLACKMORE

Is it _him_ that keeps you?

MRS. HOLROYD

No.

BLACKMORE

Then come with me. Will you? (_He stands waiting for her; then he
turns and takes his overcoat; pulls it on, leaving the collar turned
up, ceasing to twist his cap_) Well--will you tell me to-morrow?

[_She goes forward and flings her arms round his neck. He suddenly
kisses her passionately._

MRS. HOLROYD

But I ought not. (_She draws away a little; he will not let her go_)

BLACKMORE

Yes, it's all right. (_He holds her close_)

MRS. HOLROYD

Is it?

BLACKMORE

Yes, it is. It's all right.

[_He kisses her again. She releases herself but holds his hand. They
keep listening._

MRS. HOLROYD

Do you love me?

BLACKMORE

What do you ask for?

MRS. HOLROYD

Have I hurt you these months?

BLACKMORE

_You_ haven't. And I don't care what it's been if you'll come with me.
(_There is a noise upstairs and they wait_) You _will_ soon, won't
you?

[_She kisses him._

MRS. HOLROYD

He's not safe. (_She disengages herself and sits on the sofa_)

BLACKMORE (_takes a place beside her, holding her hand in
both his_) You should have waited for me.

MRS. HOLROYD

How wait?

BLACKMORE

And not have married him.

MRS. HOLROYD

I might never have known you--I married him to get out of my place.

BLACKMORE

Why?

MRS. HOLROYD

I was left an orphan when I was six. My Uncle John brought me up, in
the Coach and Horses at Rainsworth. He'd got no children. He was good
to me, but he drank. I went to Mansfield Grammar School. Then he fell
out with me because I wouldn't wait in the bar, and I went as nursery
governess to Berryman's. And I felt I'd nowhere to go, I belonged to
nowhere, and nobody cared about me, and men came after me, and I hated
it. So to get out of it, I married the first man that turned up.

BLACKMORE

And you never cared about him?

MRS. HOLROYD

Yes, I did. I did care about him. I wanted to be a wife to him. But
there's nothing at the bottom of him, if you know what I mean. You
can't _get_ anywhere with him. There's just his body and nothing
else. Nothing that keeps him, no anchor, no roots, nothing satisfying.
It's a horrible feeling there is about him, that nothing is safe or
permanent--nothing is anything--

BLACKMORE

And do you think you can trust _me_?

MRS. HOLROYD

I think you're different from him.

BLACKMORE

Perhaps I'm not.

MRS. HOLROYD (_warmly_)

You are.

BLACKMORE

At any rate, we'll see. You'll come on Saturday to London?

MRS. HOLROYD

Well, you see, there's my money. I haven't got it yet. My uncle has
left me about a hundred and twenty pounds.

BLACKMORE

Well, see the lawyer about it as soon as you can. I can let you have
some money if you want any. But don't let us wait after Saturday.

MRS. HOLROYD

But isn't it wrong?

BLACKMORE

Why, if you don't care for him, and the children are miserable between
the two of you--which they are--

MRS. HOLROYD

Yes.

BLACKMORE

Well, then I see no wrong. As for him--he would go one way, and only
one way, whatever you do. Damn him, he doesn't matter.

MRS. HOLROYD

No.

BLACKMORE

Well, then--have done with it. Can't you cut clean of him? Can't you
now?

MRS. HOLROYD

And then--the children--

BLACKMORE

They'll be all right with me and you--won't they?

MRS. HOLROYD

Yes--

BLACKMORE

Well, then. Now, come and have done with it. We can't keep on being
ripped in two like this. We need never hear of him any more.

MRS. HOLROYD

Yes--I love you. I do love you--

BLACKMORE

Oh, my God! (_He speaks with difficulty--embracing her_)

MRS. HOLROYD

When I look at him, and then at you--ha--(_she gives a short laugh_)

BLACKMORE

He's had all the chance--it's only fair--Lizzie--

MRS. HOLROYD

My love.

[_There is silence. He keeps his arm round her. After hesitating, he
picks up his cap._

BLACKMORE

I'll go then--at any rate. Shall you come with me?

[_She follows him to the door._

MRS. HOLROYD

I'll come on Saturday.

BLACKMORE

Not now?


CURTAIN


THE THIRD ACT


_Scene, the same. Time, the following evening, about seven o'clock.
The table is half laid, with a large cup and saucer, plate, etc.,
ready for Holroyd's dinner, which, like all miners, he has when he
comes home between four and five o'clock. On the other half of the
table Mrs. Holroyd is ironing. On the hearth stands newly baked loaves
of bread. The irons hang at the fire._

_Jack, with a bowler hat hanging at the back of his head, parades up
to the sofa, on which stands Minnie engaged in dusting a picture. She
has a soiled white apron tied behind her, to make a long skirt._

JACK

Good mornin', missis. Any scissors or knives to grind?

MINNIE (_peering down from the sofa_)

Oh, I can't be bothered to come downstairs. Call another day.

JACK

I shan't.

MINNIE (_keeping up her part_)

Well, I can't come down now. (_Jack stands irresolute_) Go on, you
have to go and steal the baby.

JACK

I'm not.

MINNIE

Well, you can steal the eggs out of the fowl-house.

JACK

I'm not.

MINNIE

Then I shan't play with you. (_Jack takes off his bowler hat and
flings it on the sofa; tears come in Minnie's eyes_) Now I'm _not_
friends. (_She surveys him ruefully; after a few moments of silence
she clambers down and goes to her mother_) Mam, he won't play with me.

MRS. HOLROYD (_crossly_)

Why don't you play with her? If you begin bothering, you must go to
bed.

JACK

Well, I don't want to play.

MRS. HOLROYD

Then you must go to bed.

JACK

I don't want to.

MRS. HOLROYD

Then what do you want, I should like to know?

MINNIE

I wish my father'd come.

JACK

I do.

MRS. HOLROYD

I suppose he thinks he's paying me out. This is the third time this
week he's slunk past the door and gone down to Old Brinsley instead of
coming in to his dinner. He'll be as drunk as a lord when he does come.

[_The children look at her plaintively._

MINNIE

Isn't he a nuisance?

JACK

I hate him. I wish he'd drop down th' pit-shaft.

MRS. HOLROYD

Jack!--I never heard such a thing in my life! You mustn't say such
things--it's wicked.

JACK

Well, I do.

MRS. HOLROYD (_loudly_)

I won't have it. He's your father, remember.

JACK (_in a high voice_)

Well, he's always comin' home an' shoutin' an' bangin' on the table.
(_He is getting tearful and defiant_)

MRS. HOLROYD

Well, you mustn't take any notice of him.

MINNIE (_wistfully_)

'Appen if you said something nice to him, mother, he'd happen go to
bed, and not shout.

JACK

I'd hit him in the mouth.

MRS. HOLROYD

Perhaps we'll go to another country, away from him--should we?

JACK

In a ship, mother?

MINNIE

In a ship, mam?

MRS. HOLROYD

Yes, in a big ship, where it's blue sky, and water and palm-trees,
and--

MINNIE

An' dates--?

JACK

When should we go?

MRS. HOLROYD

Some day.

MINNIE

But who'd work for us? Who should we have for father?

JACK

You don't want a father. I can go to work for us.

MRS. HOLROYD

I've got a lot of money now, that your uncle left me.

MINNIE (_after a general thoughtful silence_)

An' would my father stop here?

MRS. HOLROYD

Oh, he'd be all right.

MINNIE

But who would he live with?

MRS. HOLROYD

I don't know--one of his paper bonnets, if he likes.

MINNIE

Then she could have her old bracelet back, couldn't she?

MRS. HOLROYD

Yes--there it is on the candlestick, waiting for her.

[_There is a sound of footsteps--then a knock at the door. The
children start._

MINNIE (_in relief_)

Here he is.

[_Mrs. Holroyd goes to the door. Blackmore enters._

BLACKMORE

It is foggy to-night--Hello, aren't you youngsters gone to bed?

MINNIE

No, my father's not come home yet.

BLACKMORE (_turning to Mrs. Holroyd_)

Did he go to work then, after last night?

MRS. HOLROYD

I suppose so. His pit things were gone when I got up. I never thought
he'd go.

BLACKMORE

And he took his snap as usual?

MRS. HOLROYD

Yes, just as usual. I suppose he's gone to the New Inn. He'd say to
himself he'd pay me out. That's what he always does say, "I'll pay
thee out for that bit--I'll ma'e thee regret it."

JACK

We're going to leave him.

BLACKMORE

So you think he's at the New Inn?

MRS. HOLROYD

I'm sure he is--and he'll come when he's full. He'll have a bout now,
you'll see.

MINNIE

Go and fetch him, Mr. Blackmore.

JACK

My mother says we shall go in a ship and leave him.

BLACKMORE (_after looking keenly at Jack: to Mrs. Holroyd_)
Shall I go and see if he's at the New Inn?

MRS. HOLROYD

No--perhaps you'd better not--

BLACKMORE

Oh, he shan't see me. I can easily manage that.

JACK

Fetch him, Mr. Blackmore.

BLACKMORE

All right, Jack. (_To Mrs. Holroyd_) Shall I?

MRS. HOLROYD

We're always pulling on you--But yes, do!

[_Blackmore goes out._

JACK

I wonder how long he'll be.

MRS. HOLROYD

You come and go to bed now: you'd better be out of the way when he
comes in.

MINNIE

And you won't say anything to him, mother, will you?

MRS. HOLROYD

What do you mean?

MINNIE

You won't begin of him--row him.

MRS. HOLROYD

Is he to have all his own way? What _would_ he be like, if I didn't
row him?

JACK

But it doesn't matter, mother, if we're going to leave him--

MINNIE

But Mr. Blackmore'll come back, won't he, mam, and dad won't shout
before him?

MRS. HOLROYD (_beginning to undress the children_)

Yes, he'll come back.

MINNIE

Mam--could I have that bracelet to go to bed with?

MRS. HOLROYD

Come and say your prayers.

[_They kneel, muttering in their mother's apron._

MINNIE (_suddenly lifting her head_)

Can I, mam?

MRS. HOLROYD (_trying to be stern_)

Have you finished your prayers?

MINNIE

Yes.

MRS. HOLROYD

If you want it--beastly thing! (_She reaches the bracelet down from
the mantelpiece_) Your father must have put it up there--I don't know
where I left it. I suppose he'd think I was proud of it and wanted it
for an ornament.

[_Minnie gloats over it. Mrs. Holroyd lights a candle and they go
upstairs. After a few moments the outer door opens, and there enters
an old woman. She is of middling stature and wears a large gray shawl
over her head. After glancing sharply round the room, she advances
to the fire, warms herself, then, taking off her shawl, sits in the
rocking-chair. As she hears Mrs. Holroyd's footsteps, she folds her
hands and puts on a lachrymose expression, turning down the corners of
her mouth and arching her eyebrows._

MRS. HOLROYD

Hello, mother, is it you?

GRANDMOTHER

Yes, it's me. Haven't you finished ironing?

MRS. HOLROYD

Not yet.

GRANDMOTHER

You'll have your irons red-hot.

MRS. HOLROYD

Yes, I s'll have to stand them to cool. (_She does so, and moves about
at her ironing_)

GRANDMOTHER

And you don't know what's become of Charles?

MRS. HOLROYD

Well, he's not come home from work yet. I supposed he was at the New
Inn--Why?

GRANDMOTHER

That young electrician come knocking asking if I knew where he was.
"Eh," I said, "I've not set eyes on him for over a week--nor his wife
neither, though they pass th' garden gate every time they go out. I
know nowt on 'im." I axed him what was the matter, so he said Mrs.
Holroyd was anxious because he'd not come home, so I thought I'd
better come and see. Is there anything up?

MRS. HOLROYD

No more than I've told you.

GRANDMOTHER

It's a rum 'un, if he's neither in the New Inn nor the Prince o'
Wales. I suppose something you've done's set him off.

MRS. HOLROYD

It's nothing I've done.

GRANDMOTHER

Eh, if he's gone off and left you, whativer shall we do! Whativer 'ave
you been doing?

MRS. HOLROYD

He brought a couple of bright daisies here last night--two of those
trollops from Nottingham--and I said I'd not have it.

GRANDMOTHER (_sighing deeply_)

Ay, you've never been able to agree.

MRS. HOLROYD

We agreed well enough except when he drank like a fish and came home
rolling.

GRANDMOTHER (_whining_)

Well, what can you expect of a man as 'as been shut up i' th' pit all
day? He must have a bit of relaxation.

MRS. HOLROYD

He can have it different from that, then. At any rate, I'm sick of it.

GRANDMOTHER

Ay, you've a stiff neck, but it'll be bowed by you're my age.

MRS. HOLROYD

Will it? I'd rather it were broke.

GRANDMOTHER

Well--there's no telling what a jealous man will do. (_She shakes her
head_)

MRS. HOLROYD

Nay, I think it's my place to be jealous, when he brings a brazen
hussy here and sits carryin' on with her.

GRANDMOTHER

He'd no business to do that. But you know, Lizzie, he's got something
on _his_ side.

MRS. HOLROYD

What, pray?

GRANDMOTHER

Well, I don't want to make any mischief, but you're my son's wife,
an' it's nothing but my duty to tell you. They've been saying a long
time now as that young electrician is here a bit too often.

MRS. HOLROYD

He doesn't come for my asking.

GRANDMOTHER

No, I don't suppose he wants for asking. But Charlie's not the man to
put up with that sort o' work.

MRS. HOLROYD

Charlie put up with it! If he's anything to say, why doesn't he say
it, without going to other folks ...?

GRANDMOTHER

Charlie's never been near me with a word--nor 'as he said a word
elsewhere to my knowledge. For all that, this is going to end with
trouble.

MRS. HOLROYD

In this hole, every gossiping creature thinks she's got the right to
cackle about you--sickening! And a parcel of lies.

GRANDMOTHER

Well, Lizzie, I've never said anything against you. Charlie's been a
handful of trouble. He made my heart ache once or twice afore you had
him, and he's made it ache many, many's the time since. But it's not
all on his side, you know.

MRS. HOLROYD (_hotly_)

No, I don't know.

GRANDMOTHER

You thought yourself above him, Lizzie, an' you know he's not the man
to stand it.

MRS. HOLROYD

No, he's run away from it.

GRANDMOTHER (_venomously_)

And what man wouldn't leave a woman that allowed him to live on
sufferance in the house with her, when he was bringing the money home?

MRS. HOLROYD

"Sufferance!"--Yes, there's been a lot of letting him live on
"sufferance" in the house with me. It is _I_ who have lived on
sufferance, for his service and pleasure. No, what he wanted was the
drink and the public house company, and because he couldn't get them
here, he went out for them. That's all.

GRANDMOTHER

You have always been very clever at hitting things off, Lizzie. I was
always sorry my youngest son married a clever woman. He only wanted a
bit of coaxing and managing, and you clever women won't do it.

MRS. HOLROYD

He wanted a slave, not a wife.

GRANDMOTHER

It's a pity your stomach wasn't too high for him, before you had him.
But no, you could have eaten him ravishing at one time.

MRS. HOLROYD

It's a pity you didn't tell me what he was before I had him. But no,
he was all angel. You left me to find out what he really was.

GRANDMOTHER

Some women could have lived with him happy enough. An' a fat lot you'd
have thanked me for my telling.

[_There is a knock at the door. Mrs. Holroyd opens._

RIGLEY

They tell me, missus, as your mester's not hoom yet.

MRS. HOLROYD

No--who is it?

GRANDMOTHER

Ask him to step inside. Don't stan' there lettin' the fog in.

[_Rigley steps in. He is a tall, bony, very roughly hewn collier._

RIGLEY

Good evenin'.

GRANDMOTHER

Oh, is it you, Mr. Rigley? (_In a querulous, spiteful tone to Mrs.
Holroyd_) He butties along with Charlie.

MRS. HOLROYD

Oh!

RIGLEY

An' han yer seen nowt on 'im?

MRS. HOLROYD

No--was he all right at work?

RIGLEY

Well, 'e wor nowt to mention. A bit short, like: 'adna much to say. I
canna ma'e out what 'e's done wi' 'issen. (_He is manifestly uneasy,
does not look at the two women_)

GRANDMOTHER

An' did 'e come up i' th' same bantle wi' you?

RIGLEY

No--'e didna. As Ah was comin' out o' th' stall, Ah shouted, "Art
comin', Charlie? We're a' off." An' 'e said, "Ah'm comin' in a
minute." 'E wor just finishin' a stint, like, an' 'e wanted ter get it
set. An' 'e'd been a bit roughish in 'is temper, like, so I thöwt 'e
didna want ter walk to th' bottom wi' us....

GRANDMOTHER (_wailing_)

An' what's 'e gone an' done to himself?

RIGLEY

Nay, missis, yo munna ax me that. 'E's non done owt as Ah know on.
On'y I wor thinkin', 'appen summat 'ad 'appened to 'im, like, seein'
as nob'dy had any knowings of 'im comin' up.

MRS. HOLROYD

What is the matter, Mr. Rigley? Tell us it out.

RIGLEY

I canna do that, missis. It seems as if 'e niver come up th' pit--as
far as we can make out. 'Appen a bit o' stuff's fell an' pinned 'im.

GRANDMOTHER (_wailing_)

An' 'ave you left 'im lying down there in the pit, poor thing?

RIGLEY (_uneasily_)

I couldna say for certain where 'e is.

MRS. HOLROYD (_agitated_)

Oh, it's very likely not very bad, mother! Don't let us run to meet
trouble.

RIGLEY

We 'ave to 'ope for th' best, missis, all on us.

GRANDMOTHER (_wailing_)

Eh, they'll bring 'im 'ome, I know they will, smashed up an' broke!
An' one of my sons they've burned down pit till the flesh dropped off
'im, an' one was shot till 'is shoulder was all of a mosh, an' they
brought 'em 'ome to me. An' now there's this....

MRS. HOLROYD (_shuddering_)

Oh, don't, mother. (_Appealingly to Rigley_) You don't know that he's
hurt?

RIGLEY (_shaking his head_)

I canna tell you.

MRS. HOLROYD (_in a high hysterical voice_)

Then what is it?

RIGLEY (_very uneasy_)

I canna tell you. But yon young electrician--Mr. Blackmore--'e rung
down to the night deputy, an' it seems as though there's been a fall
or summat....

GRANDMOTHER

Eh, Lizzie, you parted from him in anger. You little knowed how you'd
meet him again.

RIGLEY (_making an effort_)

Well, I'd 'appen best be goin' to see what's betide. (_He goes out_)

GRANDMOTHER

I'm sure I've had my share of bad luck, I have. I'm sure I've brought
up five lads in the pit, through accidents and troubles, and now
there's this. The Lord has treated me very hard, very hard. It's a
blessing, Lizzie, as you've got a bit of money, else what would 'ave
become of the children?

MRS. HOLROYD

Well, if he's badly hurt, there'll be the Union-pay, and sick-pay--we
shall manage. And perhaps it's not very much.

GRANDMOTHER

There's no knowin' but what they'll be carryin' him to die i' th'
hospital.

MRS. HOLROYD

Oh, don't say so, mother--it won't be so bad, you'll see.

GRANDMOTHER

How much money have you, Lizzie, comin'?

MRS. HOLROYD

I don't know--not much over a hundred pounds.

GRANDMOTHER (_shaking her head_)

An' what's that, what's that?

MRS. HOLROYD (_sharply_)

Hush!

GRANDMOTHER (_crying_)

Why, what?

[_Mrs. Holroyd opens the door. In the silence can be heard the pulsing
of the fan engine, then the driving engine chuffs rapidly: there is a
shirr of brakes on the rope as it descends._

MRS. HOLROYD

That's twice they've sent the chair down--I wish we could see.... Hark!

GRANDMOTHER

What is it?

MRS. HOLROYD

Yes--it's stopped at the gate. It's the doctor's.

GRANDMOTHER (_coming to the door_)

What, Lizzie?

MRS. HOLROYD

The doctor's motor. (_She listens acutely_) Dare you stop here,
mother, while I run up to the top an' see?

GRANDMOTHER

You'd better not go, Lizzie, you'd better not. A woman's best away.

MRS. HOLROYD

It is unbearable to wait.

GRANDMOTHER

Come in an' shut the door--it's a cold that gets in your bones. (_She
goes in_)

MRS. HOLROYD

Perhaps while he's in bed we shall have time to change him. It's an
ill wind brings no good. He'll happen be a better man.

GRANDMOTHER

Well, you can but try. Many a woman's thought the same.

MRS. HOLROYD

Oh, dear, I wish somebody would come. He's never been hurt since we
were married.

GRANDMOTHER

No, he's never had a bad accident, all the years he's been in the pit.
He's been luckier than most. But everybody has it, sooner or later.

MRS. HOLROYD (_shivering_)

It _is_ a horrid night.

GRANDMOTHER (_querulous_)

Yes, come your ways in.

MRS. HOLROYD

Hark!

[_There is a quick sound of footsteps. Blackmore comes into the light
of the doorway._

BLACKMORE

They're bringing him.

MRS. HOLROYD (_quickly putting her hand over her breast_)
What is it?

BLACKMORE

You can't tell anything's the matter with him--it's not marked him at
all.

MRS. HOLROYD

Oh, what a blessing! And is it much?

BLACKMORE

Well--

MRS. HOLROYD

What is it?

BLACKMORE

It's the worst.

GRANDMOTHER

Who is it?--What does he say?

[_Mrs. Holroyd sinks on the nearest chair with a horrified expression.
Blackmore pulls himself together and enters. He is very pale._

BLACKMORE

I came to tell you they're bringing him home.

GRANDMOTHER

And you said it wasn't very bad, did you?

BLACKMORE

No--I said it was--as bad as it could be.

MRS. HOLROYD (_rising and crossing to her mother-in-law,
flings her arms round her; in a high voice_) Oh, mother, what shall we
do? What shall we do?

GRANDMOTHER

You don't mean to say he's dead?

BLACKMORE

Yes.

GRANDMOTHER (_staring_)

God help us, and how was it?

BLACKMORE

Some stuff fell.

GRANDMOTHER (_rocking herself and her daughter-in-law--both
weeping_) Oh, God have mercy on us! Oh, God have mercy on us! Some
stuff fell on him. An' he'd not even time to cry for mercy; oh, God
spare him! Oh, what shall we do for comfort? To be taken straight
out of his sins. Oh, Lizzie, to think he should be cut off in his
wickedness! He's been a bad lad of late, he has, poor lamb. He's gone
very wrong of late years, poor dear lamb, very wrong. Oh, Lizzie,
think what's to become of him now! If only you'd have tried to be
different with him.

MRS. HOLROYD (_moaning_)

Don't, mother, don't. I can't bear it.

BLACKMORE (_cold and clear_)

Where will you have him laid? The men will be here in a moment.

MRS. HOLROYD (_starting up_)

They can carry him up to bed--

BLACKMORE

It's no good taking him upstairs. You'll have to wash him and lay him
out.

MRS. HOLROYD (_startled_)

Well--

BLACKMORE

He's in his pit-dirt.

GRANDMOTHER

He is, bless him. We'd better have him down here, Lizzie, where we can
handle him.

MRS. HOLROYD

Yes.

[_She begins to put the tea things away, but drops the sugar out of
the basin and the lumps fly broadcast._

BLACKMORE

Never mind, I'll pick those up. You put the children's clothes away.

[_Mrs. Holroyd stares witless around. The Grandmother sits rocking
herself and weeping. Blackmore clears the table, putting the pots in
the scullery. He folds the white tablecloth and pulls back the table.
The door opens. Mrs. Holroyd utters a cry. Rigley enters._

RIGLEY

They're bringing him now, missis.

MRS. HOLROYD

Oh!

RIGLEY (_simply_)

There must ha' been a fall directly after we left him.

MRS. HOLROYD (_frowning, horrified_)

No--no!

RIGLEY (_to Blackmore_)

It fell a' back of him, an' shut 'im in as you might shut a loaf i'
th' oven. It never touched him.

MRS. HOLROYD (_staring distractedly_)

Well, then--

RIGLEY

You see, it come on 'im as close as a trap on a mouse, an' gen him no
air, an' what wi' th' gas, it smothered him. An' it wouldna be so very
long about it neither.

MRS. HOLROYD (_quiet with horror_)

Oh!

GRANDMOTHER

Eh, dear--dear. Eh, dear--dear.

RIGLEY (_looking hard at her_)

I wasna to know what 'ud happen.

GRANDMOTHER (_not heeding him, but weeping all the time_) But
the Lord gave him time to repent. He'd have a few minutes to repent.
Ay, I hope he did, I hope he did, else what was to become of him. The
Lord cut him off in his sins, but He gave him time to repent.

[_Rigley looks away at the wall. Blackmore has made a space in the
middle of the floor._

BLACKMORE

If you'll take the rocking-chair off the end of the rug, Mrs. Holroyd,
I can pull it back a bit from the fire, and we can lay him on that.

GRANDMOTHER (_petulantly_)

What's the good of messing about--(_She moves_)

MRS. HOLROYD

It suffocated him?

RIGLEY (_shaking his head, briefly_)

Yes. 'Appen th' after-damp--

BLACKMORE

He'd be dead in a few minutes.

MRS. HOLROYD

No--oh, think!

BLACKMORE

You mustn't think.

RIGLEY (_suddenly_)

They commin'!

[_Mrs. Holroyd stands at bay. The Grandmother half rises. Rigley and
Blackmore efface themselves as much as possible. A man backs into the
room, bearing the feet of the dead man, which are shod in great pit
boots. As the head bearer comes awkwardly past the table, the coat
with which the body is covered slips off, revealing Holroyd in his
pit-dirt, naked to the waist._

MANAGER (_a little stout, white-bearded man_)

Mind now, mind. Ay, missis, what a job, indeed, it is! (_Sharply_)
Where mun they put him?

MRS. HOLROYD (_turning her face aside from the corpse_)

Lay him on the rug.

MANAGER

Steady now, do it steady.

SECOND BEARER (_rising and pressing back his shoulders_) By
Guy, but 'e 'ings heavy.

MANAGER

Yi, Joe, I'll back my life o' that.

GRANDMOTHER

Eh, Mr. Chambers, what's this affliction on my old age. You kept your
sons out o' the pit, but all mine's in. And to think of the trouble
I've had--to think o' the trouble that's come out of Brinsley pit to
me.

MANAGER

It has that, it 'as that, missis. You seem to have had more 'n your
share; I'll admit it, you have.

MRS. HOLROYD (_who has been staring at the men_)

It is too much!

[_Blackmore frowns; Rigley glowers at her._

MANAGER

You never knowed such a thing in your life. Here's a man, holin' a
stint, just finishin' (_He puts himself as if in the holer's position,
gesticulating freely_) An' a lot o' stuff falls behind him, clean as
a whistle, shuts him up safe as a worm in a nut and niver touches
him--niver knowed such a thing in your life.

MRS. HOLROYD

Ugh!

MANAGER

It niver hurt him--niver touched him.

MRS. HOLROYD

Yes, but--but how long would he _be_ (_she makes a sweeping gesture;
the Manager looks at her and will not help her out_)--how long would
it take--oh--to--to kill him?

MANAGER

Nay, I canna tell ye. 'E didna seem to ha' strived much to get
out--did he, Joe?

SECOND BEARER

No, not as far as Ah 'n seen.

FIRST BEARER

You look at 'is 'ands, you'll see then. 'E'd non ha'e room to swing
the pick.

[_The Manager goes on his knees._

MRS. HOLROYD (_shuddering_)

Oh, don't!

MANAGER

Ay, th' nails is broken a bit--

MRS. HOLROYD (_clenching her fists_)

Don't!

MANAGER

'E'd be sure ter ma'e a bit of a fight. But th' gas 'ud soon get hold
on 'im. Ay, it's an awful thing to think of, it is indeed.

MRS. HOLROYD (_her voice breaking_)

I can't bear it!

MANAGER

Eh, dear, we none on us know what's comin' next.

MRS. HOLROYD (_getting hysterical_)

Oh, it's too awful, it's too awful!

BLACKMORE

You'll disturb the children.

GRANDMOTHER

And you don't want _them_ down here.

MANAGER

'E'd no business to ha' been left, you know.

RIGLEY

An' what man, dost think, wor goin' to sit him down on his hams an'
wait for a chap as wouldna say "thank yer" for his cump'ny? 'E'd bin
ready to fall out wi' a flicker o' the candle, so who dost think wor
goin' ter stop when we knowed 'e on'y kep on so's to get shut on us.

MANAGER

Tha'rt quite right, Bill, quite right. But theer you are.

RIGLEY

An' if we'd stopped, what good would it ha' done--

MANAGER

No, 'appen not, 'appen not.

RIGLEY

For, not known--

MANAGER

I'm sayin' nowt agen thee, neither one road nor t'other. (_There is
general silence--then, to Mrs. Holroyd_) I should think th' inquest'll
be at th' New Inn to-morrow, missis. I'll let you know.

MRS. HOLROYD

Will there have to be an inquest?

MANAGER

Yes--there'll have to be an inquest. Shall you want anybody in, to
stop with you to-night?

MRS. HOLROYD

No.

MANAGER

Well, then, we'd best be goin'. I'll send my missis down first thing
in the morning. It's a bad job, a bad job, it is. You'll be a' right
then?

MRS. HOLROYD

Yes.

MANAGER

Well, good-night then--good-night all.

ALL

Good-night. Good-night.

[_The Manager, followed by the two bearers, goes out, closing the
door._

RIGLEY

It's like this, missis. I never should ha' gone, if he hadn't wanted
us to.

MRS. HOLROYD

Yes, I know.

RIGLEY

'E wanted to come up by's sen.

MRS. HOLROYD (_wearily_)

I know how it was, Mr. Rigley.

RIGLEY

Yes--

BLACKMORE

Nobody could foresee.

RIGLEY (_shaking his head_)

No. If there's owt, missis, as you want--

MRS. HOLROYD

Yes--I think there isn't anything.

RIGLEY (_after a moment_)

Well--good-night--we've worked i' the same stall ower four years now--

MRS. HOLROYD

Yes.

RIGLEY

Well, good-night, missis.

MRS. HOLROYD AND BLACKMORE

Good-night.

[_The Grandmother all this time has been rocking herself to and fro,
moaning and murmuring beside the dead man. When Rigley has gone Mrs.
Holroyd stands staring distractedly before her. She has not yet looked
at her husband._

GRANDMOTHER

Have you got the things ready, Lizzie?

MRS. HOLROYD

What things?

GRANDMOTHER

To lay the child out.

MRS. HOLROYD (_she shudders_)

No--what?

GRANDMOTHER

Haven't you put him by a pair o' white stockings, nor a white shirt?

MRS. HOLROYD

He's got a white cricketing shirt--but not white stockings.

GRANDMOTHER

Then he'll have to have his father's. Let me look at the shirt,
Lizzie. (_Mrs. Holroyd takes one from the dresser drawer_) This'll
never do--a cold, canvas thing wi' a turn down collar. I s'll 'ave
to fetch his father's. (_Suddenly_) You don't want no other woman to
touch him, to wash him and lay him out, do you?

MRS. HOLROYD (_weeping_)

No.

GRANDMOTHER

Then I'll fetch him his father's gear. We mustn't let him set, he'll
be that heavy, bless him. (_She takes her shawl_) I shan't be more
than a few minutes, an' the young fellow can stop here till I come
back.

BLACKMORE

Can't I go for you, Mrs. Holroyd?

GRANDMOTHER

No. _You_ couldn't find the things. We'll wash him as soon as I get
back, Lizzie.

MRS. HOLROYD

All right.

[_She watches her mother-in-law go out. Then she starts, goes in
the scullery for a bowl, in which she pours warm water. She takes a
flannel and soap and towel. She stands, afraid to go any farther._

BLACKMORE

Well!

MRS. HOLROYD

This is a judgment on us.

BLACKMORE

Why?

MRS. HOLROYD

On me, it is--

BLACKMORE

How?

MRS. HOLROYD

It is.

[_Blackmore shakes his head._

MRS. HOLROYD

Yesterday you talked of murdering him.

BLACKMORE

Well!

MRS. HOLROYD

Now we've done it.

BLACKMORE

How?

MRS. HOLROYD

He'd have come up with the others, if he hadn't felt--felt me
murdering him.

BLACKMORE

But we can't help it.

MRS. HOLROYD

It's my fault.

BLACKMORE

Don't be like that!

MRS. HOLROYD (_looking at him--then indicating her husband_)
I daren't see him.

BLACKMORE

No?

MRS. HOLROYD

I've killed him, that is all.

BLACKMORE

No, you haven't.

MRS. HOLROYD

Yes, I have.

BLACKMORE

_We_ couldn't help it.

MRS. HOLROYD

If he hadn't felt, if he hadn't _known_, he wouldn't have stayed, he'd
have come up with the rest.

BLACKMORE

Well, and even if it was so, we can't help it now.

MRS. HOLROYD

But we've killed him.

BLACKMORE

Ah, I'm tired--

MRS. HOLROYD

Yes.

BLACKMORE (_after a pause_)

Shall I stay?

MRS. HOLROYD

I--I daren't be alone with him.

BLACKMORE (_sitting down_)

No.

MRS. HOLROYD

I don't love him. Now he's dead. I don't love him. He lies like he did
yesterday.

BLACKMORE

I suppose, being dead--I don't know--

MRS. HOLROYD

I think you'd better go.

BLACKMORE (_rising_)

Tell me.

MRS. HOLROYD

Yes.

BLACKMORE

You want me to go.

MRS. HOLROYD

No--but _do_ go. (_They look at each other_)

BLACKMORE

I shall come to-morrow (_he goes out_)

[_Mrs. Holroyd stands very stiff, as if afraid of the dead man. Then
she stoops down and begins to sponge his face, talking to him._

MRS. HOLROYD

My dear, my dear--oh, my dear! I can't bear it, my dear--you shouldn't
have done it. You shouldn't have done it. Oh--I can't bear it, for
you. Why couldn't I do anything for you? The children's father--my
dear--I wasn't good to you. But you shouldn't have done this to me.
Oh, dear, oh, dear! Did it hurt you?--oh, my dear, it hurt you--oh, I
can't bear it. No, things aren't fair--we went wrong, my dear. I never
loved you enough--I never did. What a shame for you! It was a shame.
But you didn't--you didn't try. I _would_ have loved you--I tried
hard. What a shame for you! It was so cruel for you. You couldn't help
it--my dear, my dear. You couldn't help it. And I can't do anything
for you, and it hurt you so! (_She weeps bitterly, so her tears fall
on the dead man's face; suddenly she kisses him_) My dear, my dear,
what can I do for you, what can I? (_She weeps as she wipes his face
gently_)

GRANDMOTHER (_enters, puts a bundle on the table, takes off
her shawl_) You're not all by yourself?

MRS. HOLROYD

Yes.

GRANDMOTHER

It's a wonder you're not frightened. You've not washed his face.

MRS. HOLROYD

Why should I be afraid of him--now, mother?

GRANDMOTHER (_weeping_)

Ay, poor lamb, I can't think as ever you could have had reason to be
frightened of him, Lizzie.

MRS. HOLROYD

Yes--once--

GRANDMOTHER

Oh, but he went wrong. An' he was a taking lad, as iver was. (_She
cries pitifully_) And when I waked his father up and told him, he sat
up in bed staring over his whiskers, and said should he come up? But
when I'd managed to find the shirt and things, he was still in bed.
You don't know what it is to live with a man that has no feeling. But
you've washed him, Lizzie?

MRS. HOLROYD

I was finishing his head.

GRANDMOTHER

Let me do it, child.

MRS. HOLROYD

I'll finish that.

GRANDMOTHER

Poor lamb--poor dear lamb! Yet I wouldn't wish him back, Lizzie. He
must ha' died peaceful, Lizzie. He seems to be smiling. He always had
such a rare smile on him--not that he's smiled much of late--

MRS. HOLROYD

I loved him for that.

GRANDMOTHER

Ay--my poor child--my poor child.

MRS. HOLROYD

He looks nice, mother.

GRANDMOTHER

I hope he made his peace with the Lord.

MRS. HOLROYD

Yes.

GRANDMOTHER

If he hadn't time to make his peace with the Lord, I've no hopes of
him. Dear o' me, dear o' me. Is there another bit of flannel anywhere?

[_Mrs. Holroyd rises and brings a piece. The Grandmother begins to
wash the breast of the dead man._

GRANDMOTHER

Well, I hope you'll be true to his children at least, Lizzie. (_Mrs.
Holroyd weeps--the old woman continues her washing_) Eh--and he's fair
as a lily. Did you ever see a man with a whiter skin--and flesh as
fine as the driven snow. He's beautiful, he is, the lamb. Many's the
time I've looked at him, and I've felt proud of him, I have. And now
he lies here. And such arms on 'im! Look at the vaccination marks,
Lizzie. When I took him to be vaccinated, he had a little pink bonnet
with a feather. (_Weeps_) Don't cry, my girl, don't. Sit up an' wash
him a' that side, or we s'll never have him done. Oh, Lizzie!

MRS. HOLROYD (_sitting up, startled_)

What--what?

GRANDMOTHER

Look at his poor hand!

[_She holds up the right hand. The nails are bloody._

MRS. HOLROYD

Oh, no! Oh, no! No!

[_Both women weep._

GRANDMOTHER (_after awhile_)

We maun get on, Lizzie.

MRS. HOLROYD (_sitting up_)

I can't touch his hands.

GRANDMOTHER

But I'm his mother--there's nothing I couldn't do for him.

MRS. HOLROYD

I don't care--I don't care.

GRANDMOTHER

Prithee, prithee, Lizzie, I don't want thee goin' off, Lizzie.

MRS. HOLROYD (_moaning_)

Oh, what shall I do!

GRANDMOTHER

Why, go thee an' get his feet washed. He's setting stiff, and how
shall we get him laid out?

[_Mrs. Holroyd, sobbing, goes, kneels at the miner's feet, and begins
pulling off the great boots._

GRANDMOTHER

There's hardly a mark on him. Eh, what a man he is! I've had some fine
sons, Lizzie, I've had some big men of sons.

MRS. HOLROYD

He was always a lot whiter than me. And he used to chaff me.

GRANDMOTHER

But his poor hands! I used to thank God for my children, but they're
rods o' trouble, Lizzie, they are. Unfasten his belt, child. Me mun
get his things off soon, or else we s'll have such a job.

[_Mrs. Holroyd, having dragged off the boots, rises. She is weeping._


                               CURTAIN




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 Transcriber's Notes:

 1. Original spelling of certain words has been retained, e.g.
    "brokken", as well as hyphenation as in original.

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End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of The Widowing of Mrs. Holroyd, by 
D. H. (David Herbert) Lawrence

*** 