[There is a second's pause.]
MARY. Your--what? . . .
ROBERT [brokenly]. My--daughter.
MARY. Oh! . . .
[She goes towards him: they face each other.]
[Softly.] Is she dead?
[He stands looking at her.]
Is she?
[He turns away from her.]
ROBERT. Fur as I am concerned--yus.
MARY. What do you mean? _Isn't_ she dead?
ROBERT. She's alive, right enough.
MARY. Perhaps--perhaps she ran away? . . .
ROBERT. She got took.
MARY. How do you mean--gypsies?
ROBERT. I _give_ 'er up. 'Ad to.
MARY. Why?
ROBERT. Look at me! . . .
_That_--an' the drink, an' the low wages, an' my ole woman dyin'!
That's why I give 'er up.
MARY. Where is she now?
ROBERT. Never you mind. She's bein' looked arfter.
MARY. By whom?
ROBERT. By people as I've allus 'ated like poison!
MARY. Why, aren't they kind to her?
ROBERT. Yus: they've made 'er summat, as I couldn't 'a' done.
MARY. Then why do you hate them ?
ROBERT. I don't any longer. I 'ates myself, I 'ates the world I
live in, I 'ates the bloomin' muck 'ole I've landed into!
MARY. Your wife's dead, you say?
ROBERT. Yus.
MARY. What would she think about it all?
ROBERT [hollowly, without variation]. I don't know: I don't know:
I don't know.
[MARY sits down beside him.]
MARY [thoughtfully]. Isn't it strange--both our wishes alike! You
want your little girl; and I, my father!
ROBERT. What sort of a . . .
MARY. Yes?
ROBERT. What sort of a bloke might your father be, miss?
MARY. I don't know. I have never seen him.
ROBERT. Got no idea? Never--'eard _tell_ of 'im?
MARY. Never.
ROBERT. 'Aven't thought of 'im yourself, I s'pose? Wasn't
particular worth while, eh?
MARY. It's not that. I've been selfish. I never thought anything
about him until to-day.
ROBERT. What made you think of 'im--to-day?
MARY. I can't quite say. At least . . .
ROBERT. Mebbe 'e wrote--sent a telingram or summat, eh?--t' say as
'e was comin'?
MARY [quickly]. Oh no: he never writes: we never hear from him.
That's perhaps a bit selfish of him, too, isn't it?
ROBERT [after a moment]. Looks like it, don't it?
MARY. But I don't think he can be really selfish, after all.
ROBERT [with a ray of brightness]. Cos why?
MARY. Because he must be rather like my Uncle William and Uncle
Joshua.
[He looks at her curiously.]
ROBERT. Like your . . .
MARY. Yes--they're his brothers, you know.
This is Uncle William's house.
ROBERT. Yes, but what do you know about. . .
MARY. About Uncle Joshua? Well, I happen to know a good deal more
than I can say. It's a secret.
ROBERT. S'pose your _Uncle William_ spoke to you about 'im?
MARY. Well, yes. Uncle William spoke about him, too.
ROBERT. But never about your father?
MARY. Oh no, never.
ROBERT. Why, miss?
MARY [slowly]. I--don't--know.
ROBERT. P'r'aps 'e ain't--good enough--to be--to be the brother of
your Uncle William--and-- Uncle--Joshua--eh, miss?
MARY. Oh, I can't think that!
ROBERT. Why not, miss? Three good brothers in a family don't
scarcely seem possible--not as families go--do they, miss?
MARY. You mustn't talk like that! A father must be much--much
better than anybody else!
ROBERT. But s'pose, miss--s'pose 'e ain't . . .
MARY. He is! I know it! Why, that's what I'm wishing! . . .
ROBERT. P'r'aps it ain't altogether 'is fault, miss! . . .
MARY. Oh, don't! Don't. . .
ROBERT. Things may 'a' bin agin 'im, miss! . . .
MARY. Oh, you make me so unhappy! . . .
ROBERT. P'r'aps 'e's 'ad a 'ard life--a bitter 'ard life--same as
I 'av', miss . . . [He breaks down.]
MARY. Ssh! Please! Please! . . .
I can quite understand: indeed, indeed, I can! I'm sorry--oh, so
sorry for you. You are thinking of yourself and of your own little
girl--the little girl who doesn't know what you have been telling
me. Don't be miserable! I'm sure it will all turn out right in
the end--things always do; far better than you dream! Only . . .
don't take away _my_ little dream!
[She turns away her face. ROBERT rises heavily.]
ROBERT. All right, miss--I won't: swelp me Gawd, I won't. Don't
cry, miss. Don't, miss! Breaks my 'eart--after all you've done
for me. I ort never to 'a' bin born--mekin' you cry! Thank you
kindly, miss: thank you very kindly. I'll--I'll tek my 'ook.
MARY. Oh, but I'm so sorry for _you_!
ROBERT. Thank you, miss.
MARY. I did so want to help you.
ROBERT. You 'av', miss.
MARY. Before you go, won't you tell me your name? Who are you?