_The same scene two weeks later._ BROWN _comes in by yard door holding
letters in his hand, which he examines curiously at intervals._
BROWN (_shouting loudly_). Miss Mary! Are you there, Miss Mary?
KATE (_coming in from parlour_). Hi there. Stop that shouting. D'ye
want to wake the dead?
BROWN. I want to give these letters to Miss Mary. Where is she?
KATE. Who're they for? Let's look at them.
BROWN. Not for you anyway. (_Loudly._) Miss Mary.
KATE. Ach quit deaving me with your shouting.
MARY (_coming in_). What's the matter? Oh! Letters! Any for me, Sam?
BROWN. Aye. There's a post card for you, Miss Mary, and a registered
letter for Mr. John. The posty says he'll call on the road back for
the account when you sign it. (_He hands the post card to_ MARY _and
looks carefully at the letter._) It's like the MCMINN writing that.
(_He looks at_ MARY, _who is reading and re-reading the post card with
a puzzled expression._) Isn't Mr. Dan to be home to-day from Belfast,
Miss Mary?
MARY. Eh?
BROWN. Isn't Mr. Dan expected home to-day from Belfast?
MARY. Yes.
BROWN. I wonder did he get the bellows sold? There was great talking
about him last night in McArn's. Some said he had sold it and made a
fortune. (_He breaks off abruptly on seeing that_ MARY _pays no
attention to him, and then peers over to see what she is reading._)
Post cards is interesting things. Picture post cards is.
KATE. Here. Away out and get them purtas dug for the dinner. We're
tired hearing your gabble.
BROWN (_retreating to door and eyeing_ KATE _meaningly_). The master
was complaining again to me yesterday evening about the dinner he got.
There's no mistake he likes his meat like myself, and right enough it
was bad yesterday. I was chowing haws all evening to keep off the
hunger.
KATE. Go on you out of this.
BROWN. That's all the news this morning. (_He makes a grimace at_ KATE
_and goes out into the yard._)
MARY. I can't understand this post card. (KATE _goes over and looks at
it along with_ MARY.)
"O wad that God the gift wad gie us,
To see oorselves as ithers see us."
What does that mean? "How's the uncle?" It's some cheeky person
anyway--"from D.M." Who could that be?
KATE. It's not McCready, Miss, is it?
MARY. No. That's not his writing.
KATE. Och, Miss Mary! Do you see the picture of the Highland man
dancing, and under it--"A Mackenzie Clansman." It's thon Scotch fellow
sent it.
MARY. Just like the way he would do. I met him again one night we were
over at the doctor's, and he was trying to make up to me all he was
able.
KATE. Aye. Any word from Mr. Dan about the boy he was to bring you?
MARY. No. I'm not going to bother any more about boys, I'm going to
keep house from this on properly. But Uncle Dan said something in his
last letter about a great surprise he had for all of us.
KATE. Surprise enough it will be, and he lands home with a ha'penny in
his pocket. The last time he come home he borrowed a shilling of me
and niver paid me back yet. Did he sell the plans of the bellows,
Miss?
MARY. He didn't say. (JOHN MURRAY _comes through yard door. He has
evidently been working outside and has left his work in a hurry._)
Father, there's a letter for you. (_She hands it to him._) A
registered one too.
JOHN. Aye. So Brown was telling me. Maybe its from thon McAlenan
fellow that owes me two pound for the heifer. (_He tears it open._
MARY _and_ KATE _watch him with interest. His face changes as he
reads, and an expression of dismay comes over it._)
MARY (_coming closer to him_). What's the matter, father?
JOHN (_fidgeting uneasily_). Nothing, child. Nothing. (_He looks at
the letter again._) Well I'm--(_He stops short on remembering_ MARY
_is there._) She's a caution.
MARY. Father. Tell me. Is it from the McMinns?
JOHN. Aye. (_Pacing up and down._) I knowed she'd do it. I knowed
she'd do it.
MARY. What?
JOHN. Sarah's taking an action against me.
MARY. An action?
JOHN. Aye. (_Consulting the letter._) For a thousand pounds.
MARY (_awestruck_). A thousand pounds!
JOHN. Aye. Now the fat's in the fire. She says I promised to marry her
and broke it off. At least, it's Andy that writes the letter, but it's
her that put him up to it. I know that too well. (_Reading._) "To Mr.
John Murray. Dear Sir,--You have acted to my sister in a most
ungentlemanly way, and done her much wrong, and I have put the case
intil the hands of Mr. McAllen, the solicitor, who will bring it
forward at the coming Assizes. If you wish, however, to avoid a
scandal, we are oped to settle the matter by private arrangement for
one thousand pounds. Yours truly, Andrew McMinn."
MARY. That's awful, father, isn't it?
JOHN (_going over to fireplace and standing there irresolutely_). Aye.
It's a terrible mess, right enough.
MARY (_brightening up_). Sure she wouldn't get a thousand off you,
father?
KATE. There's John McArdle up by Slaney Cross got a hundred pounds
took off him by wee Miss Black, the school teacher.
JOHN (_uncomfortably_). Aye. Heth now, I just call that to mind. And
he never got courting her at all, I believe.
KATE. It just served him right. He was always a great man for having
five or six girls running after him.
JOHN. And she hadn't much of a case against him.
KATE. The school children were standing by when he asked her in a
joking sort of way would she marry him, and the court took their
evidence.
JOHN (_hopelessly_). Aye. Men are always terrible hard on other men
where women are concerned.
KATE. And a good job it is, or half the girls would be at the church
waiting, and the groom lying at home rueing his bargain. (_She goes
out by yard door._)
MARY (_going up to her father_). Father, has she a good case against
you?
JOHN (_after a moment of deep thought_). No. I don't think it.
MARY. Don't worry so much then, father.
JOHN. It's the jury I'm so frightened of. They all come from the
mountainy district at this Assizes, and there's not a man of them but
wouldn't put a knife in me, the way I get beating them down in price
at the fairs.
MARY. I don't think they'd give her fifty pounds when they see her.
It's only good looking girls would get big sums like a thousand
pounds.
JOHN. It's all very well, Mary, but she could dress herself to look
nice enough, the same Sarah, if she liked.
MARY. She could not, indeed.
JOHN. They say, at least Brown was hinting to me, that its yon Scotch
fellow, Mackenzie, has put up the McMinns to this business. He and
that connection are as thick as thieves.
MARY. He mightn't be so very fond of them. When a man sends post cards
to a girl he doesn't know very well, he's got a wee bit of a liking
for her.
JOHN. What are you talking about? I never sent her any post cards.
MARY. Father, what are you going to do?
JOHN (_despairingly_). I'm d----d if I know.
MARY. Will you defend the case?
JOHN. I don't want to go near the court at all.
MARY. Father! (_Alarmed._) Father! Sure you wouldn't--you couldn't
think of marrying her after all that row that happened? (JOHN _remains
silent._) Wouldn't you rather lose a thousand pounds and keep me,
father? (JOHN _breaks a piece of soda bread morosely and eats it._)
Wouldn't you, father.
JOHN. Ah! (_He spits out the bread._) Heaven save us, what kind of
bread's that?
MARY (_taking away the bread and putting it behind her back._) Father!
Ah please, please, don't marry her anyway. Sure you won't?
BROWN (_coming in hastily_). Here's Mr. Dan coming up the loaning,
sir, that grand looking you'd hardly know him, and a big cigar in his
mouth.
JOHN. Daniel back?
MARY. Oh, I must go out and meet him. (_She goes out by yard door
quickly._)
JOHN. Had he his luggage with him?
BROWN. Aye. He has yon big portmanteau of his, and a parcel of
something or other.
JOHN. Away out and help him then, can't you? (BROWN _goes out._) I
wonder what kept him in Belfast all this time. I suppose he's spent
most of the five pounds I gave him. Like enough. I never mind him
coming back yet with a ha'penny on him. (_He sits down at the
fireplace and looks again at the letter._) A thousand pounds! And
there never was a breach of promise case known where they didn't bring
in a verdict for the woman. Never! (_He becomes absorbed in thought,
and as he sits ruminating_ MARY _opens the door, carrying a large
brown paper parcel, followed by_ DANIEL. DANIEL _is dressed fairly
well, and seems to be in high spirits._ BROWN _follows him carrying a
portmanteau._)
DANIEL (_brightly_). Home again, John.
JOHN (_morosely_). Aye. It was near time, I think.
DANIEL. Saw quite a number of people this time, John. A great number.
They were all very much interested. Fine town, Belfast. Growing very
rapidly. Wonderful place.
MARY. What's in the parcel? (_She looks at it with great curiosity._)
DANIEL. Ah, that--that't the great secret. Mum's the word. All in good
time, Mary.
BROWN. Will I leave your bag here, Mr. Dan?
DANIEL. Yes. Here's a sixpence for you. (_He hands it to_ BROWN.)
JOHN. You're brave and free-handed with your money. Giving the like of
that bauchle sixpence. (BROWN, _who is going out through yard door,
stares back at his master protestingly, and then goes out._) The Lord
knows but we will be wanting every ha'penny we can scrape together,
and soon enough.
MARY. I didn't tell Uncle Dan yet, father.
DANIEL (_seating himself near the workshop door_). Has anything
happened?
MARY. Yes. Sarah McMinn has----
JOHN. Read that letter, Daniel. (_He goes across and hands_ DANIEL
_the letter, and goes back to the fireplace to watch him._)
DANIEL (_taking out his glasses and solemnly perusing the letter_).
Um.
JOHN. Well? What do you think of that?
DANIEL (_endeavouring to appear cheerful._) Keep up a stout heart,
John. You're safe enough.
JOHN. Oh, heth, I'm not so sure of that. Sure you never heard tell of
a jury yet that didn't give damages against the defendant in a breach
of promise case. Did you now?
DANIEL. Tuts, man. She has no case.
JOHN. Case or no case it doesn't seem to matter. What sort of case had
Jennie Black against John McArdle, of Slaney Cross? None. What sort of
case had Maggie McAndless against old William Boyd? None at all. I was
at both of them trials and says to Pat McAleenan--"the girl has no
case at all!" But for all that they brought in a verdict for one
hundred pounds against McArdle, and they put two hundred against old
Boyd, and nearly broke the two of them.
DANIEL. It's very awkward this.
JOHN. Did you do anything, Daniel about the bellows?
DANIEL. The bellows? Aye. (_He points at the parcel._) A good deal,
John. It's all there. But it's all not quite settled yet. A day or two
more and you'll see. If all goes well I'll have a great surprise for
you in a day or two.
JOHN (_disgustedly_). Ach! I suppose you spent every ha'penny of the
money, too, that I gave you?
DANIEL. John. Another surprise for you! Those people I met and went
to, put me up very cheap for the week. Very cheap. (_He produces some
money._) Therees one pound ten and sixpence for you.
JOHN. What?
DANIEL. I'll keep the pound to do me to the end of the month and not
ask you for any more, John, after that. That is if--well--(_He looks
at the parcel._) That thing there is all right.
JOHN (_pocketing the ten and sixpence after counting it carefully_).
Daniel. I'm sorry, but there's an account of some thirty shillings I
owe the McArdles, and I want to pay it the night. So if you don't
mind--(_He holds out his hand._)
DANIEL (_unwillingly_). Well, I suppose it can't be helped, John. But
it leaves me just with nothing. However, there you are. (_He hands
the pound over to him._ SAM BROWN _opens the yard door and peeps in
cautiously._)
JOHN (_looking at him angrily_). What ails _you_ anyway?
BROWN. If you please sir, the posty wants the account signed for that
letter.
MARY. Oh, I forgot all about that. (_She picks up the receipt for the
letter from the table._) I'll sign it for you, father. (_She goes over
to_ BROWN, _who whispers somethings. She nods._) And I'll give it to
him myself. (_She goes out following_ BROWN.)
JOHN. It's a serious business, this, about the McMinns.
DANIEL. You're all right, man. Wait a day or two. Take my advice. Do
nothing in a hurry. Sit down and think it over the way I do when I'm
working out a new idea. Don't rush things. It will all come right in
the end. Just you wait and see if it doesn't.
JOHN. Would it not be better to settle before going into the court?
You know I couldn't stand being pointed out to of a Sunday morning and
one and another talking--"There's the man that Sarah McMinn took the
breach of promise case against." No, I couldn't stand that at all. It
would be a disgrace to the Murrays for ever. I'm wondering now----(_He
pauses lost in thought._)
DANIEL (_alarmed_). John. Surely you wouldn't--you couldn't think of
going back on what you said to me. Would you?
JOHN. I wonder, Daniel, would you mind so much after all if I married
her?
DANIEL (_in an agonised voice_). I couldn't stand it. No, John, I
couldn't stay. Any other woman but that McMinn.
MARY (_appearing at the door followed by_ ALICK MCCREADY). Come on in,
Alick.
ALICK. Good morning, Mr. Murray. How are you, Mr. Dan? So you are back
again? We're all glad to have you back.
DANIEL. Thank you, Alick.
MARY. Father. Alick says he heard Andy McMinn talking yesterday to
some one at McArdle's shop, and he was telling them all about the
whole business, and blaming it all on Uncle Dan.
JOHN. And so the people are talking of me already? Now that I come to
think of it, it was your Uncle Dan, and a brave ha'penny it's going to
cost me. One thousand pounds.
ALICK. Never mind, Mr. Murray. Maybe Uncle Dan will do something yet.
What about the bellows? (DAN _makes a horrified movement to stop_
ALICK _talking, but too late._)
JOHN. Aye. Here, Daniel. I'll make a bargain with you. I'll leave you
to the settling of the case, and you can find the money yourself to
pay for it if you want to. And if you can't find the money, I'll marry
her.
MARY. Father, surely----
JOHN. What? That's enough about it. I would as soon do without the
marrying if I could. I don't want the woman at all, but I'll marry her
before she gets a ha'penny off me. So you can settle it among
yourselves. You can take charge of that letter, Dan, and make the best
you can of it. (_He goes angrily out by yard door._)
DANIEL. This is a nice mess you put me in for, Alick. What the divil
made you mention the bellows?
ALICK. I'm sorry, Mr. Dan. I wasn't thinking.
DANIEL. The sooner you start and think a bit the better. If you don't
help to settle the case--(_he looks angrily at_ ALICK)--well--I've a
good deal of influence with somebody. (_He looks significantly at_
MARY, _who is again examining the parcel._)
ALICK. I'll do my best, Mr. Dan, to help you.
MARY. What will we do, Uncle Dan?
DANIEL. I suppose you've no money, Alick?
ALICK. Well, I haven't much ready money, Mr. Dan, but I could lend you
up to twenty pounds at a pinch.
MARY. Twenty pounds would hardly be enough. Would it, uncle?
ALICK. Better get hold of Andy and ask him.
DANIEL. I don't like going near that woman at all.
MARY. Alick! Could you not slip over and ask Andy to come across? You
know what the McMinns are like. He'd come over for a shilling if he
thought he'd get one. Ah, yes. You will, Alick. Won't you?
ALICK. I'll go straight across now if you--if you----
MARY. What?
ALICK. If you'd leave us along the road a bit.
DANIEL. Aye. Do. Mary. Leave him down to the gate anyway. I want to
stay here and think over things a wee bit. That't the good wee girl.
(_He gently urges her out with_ ALICK, _then goes over to the table,
lifts the parcel, and sits down near the fireplace. Feeling the
parcel._) I'm afraid, Dan Murray, it's all U. P. this time. I'm afraid
it is. (_Then an idea seems to dawn on him, and he looks at the
parcel._) Unless--unless--well--I wonder now if I--
(KATE _and_ BROWN _enter through yard door._ BROWN _is carrying a
bucket filled with washed potatoes._)
KATE. There. Put it down there. You didn't know we wanted that much,
did you not? You're getting as big an old liar as Mr.--(_She stops
short on perceiving_ DANIEL.)
BROWN (_looking up and then realising what had made her pause_). Aye.
Go on. As who do you say, woman?
KATE (_recovering herself_). Just as big an old liar as Andy McMinn.
BROWN. Now, whist. The McMinns were aye decent folk. (_He glances
across at_ DANIEL, _who apparently is not listening._) They're near
people, and all that sort of thing, but once they say a thing they
stick to it.
KATE. They're a lot of mean scrubs, the whole caboosh of them.
DANIEL (_to himself_). I wonder would twenty pounds be any use at
all?
BROWN (_nudging_ KATE _slyly_). I believe that once Sarah puts a price
on a thing, like a pig or a sow, or a hen, the divil himself couldn't
beat her down in the price of it. And Andy, they say, can beat the
best dealer in the county from here to the Mourne. (DANIEL, _who has
been listening uneasily, gets up and turns round to look at them._)
It's the fine cigar that you were smoking, Mr. Daniel, this morning.
DANIEL. Cigar? Yes. Yes.
BROWN. Aye. A fine cigar, sir. There was a grand smell off it. I seen
you coming up by the McMinns, sir, this morning on the road from the
station.
DANIEL. Yes. On the road from the station.
BROWN. You didn't see them, but I noticed Andy and Sarah coming out to
the gate when you had passed them and looking after you a long time.
DANIEL. Is that so?
BROWN. Aye. A long time, sir. I suppose, like myself, they smelled the
cigar. (DANIEL _at once throws down the cigar in disgust._) Mr. Andy,
they say, is guy fond of a good cigar, and I understand that he'll be
for getting a few boxes of them soon, for the sister, they say, is
coming into a lot of money.
KATE. Ach, you and your cigars! Will you get out of this and quit
tormenting people? Go on. Out you go.
BROWN (_as if out of curiosity, picks up the cigar and goes out
slowly_).
DANIEL. He's a very impertinent man that. Very worrisome.
KATE. Ach, never heed him, Mr. Dan! sure no one in this house does.
You'll be tired after travelling, sir. Will I make you a drop of tea?
DANIEL. It's hard to eat anything, Kate, when I'm worried.
(_Despairingly._) I don't think there's another man living that has
the same worries as I have. Something awful! Where's the pen and ink,
I wonder?
KATE. There's some here on the dresser, Miss Mary was using it
to-day. (_She takes it over from the dresser to the table._ DANIEL
_rises and goes over and sits down and begins slowly to write._) Cheer
up, Mr. Daniel. Sure you sold the plans of the bellows anyway. Didn't
you, sir? They had word up at the McAleenans the other night that you
got two thousand for it.
DANIEL (_astonished_). Eh? They said that.
KATE. Aye. To be sure. McAndless told McArdle, and he told Smith the
postman, and the postman told the McAleenans, and said he had seen
letters about it. And McAleenan was up in McMinns the other night and
told them, and I believe you never saw such an astonished crowd of
people in all their lives.
DANIEL. He told the McMinns that?
KATE. Aye, last night I think it was.
DANIEL. Last night? (_He looks at the letter._) Yesterday was the
14th, wasn't it? Aye. It was. I wonder did they believe McAleenan?
KATE. I don't think they know right what to make of it. And yon
Scotchman was there at the time, and mind you, Mr. Dan, they say he
looked quite serious when he heard it, and said such things as that
happened many's a time.
DANIEL (_incredulously_). Mackenzie said that?
KATE. Aye. You know, I think it's maybe because he has a wee notion of
Miss Mary, sir.
DANIEL. It's quite possible. Quite possible. A nice wee girl is Mary.
Fact, too good for the half of the clodhoppers about these parts. (_He
takes up the parcel, pen, and ink, and paper, and goes across into the
workshop._)
KATE (_looking after him_). Poor creature. I'm feared he's for the
road again if he doesn't worry out some way for himself. And God knows
he's the one best fitted for it. (MARY _enters._) Well, did you see
him off comfortably?
MARY. Who?
KATE. Alick McCready.
MARY. Kate. I with you'd mind your own business.
KATE. It's a sore time I have in this house minding my own and every
other bodies' business.
MARY. Kate. He said I couldn't bake a cake to save my life. I'll just
show him that I can, and you're not to help me, mind you. I'm going to
do it all myself.
MARY. Where's the flour?
KATE. There's none in the house, Miss Mary.
MARY. What?
KATE. You mind it was all used up this morning on account of them
cakes that nearly killed your poor ould da.
MARY. Go down to McArdles, Kate, and get a quarter stone on account.
KATE. Your da told me this morning, Miss Mary, that I wasn't to get
any more from McArdles or any other place unless he gives me an order
for it. Do you not mind?
MARY (_dejectedly_). So he did. I had forgotten.
KATE. Aye. Quite so, Miss. (_She sits down contentedly._)
MARY. I wonder is Uncle Dan about?
KATE. Aye. He's in his workshop, Miss.
MARY (going over and knocking at door of workshop). Uncle Dan!
DANIEL (_appearing at door_). Well, Mary?
MARY. Uncle Dan, could you give me sixpence?
DANIEL (_jumbling in his pockets_). Sixpence? Sixpence, Mary? Bless
your wee heart. Here. Here's a two shilling bit. But Mary, mum's the
word. Don't tell John I gave it to you.
MARY. No. Thank you, uncle. (DANIEL _goes in again._) There, Kate,
quick as you can and don't stop to talk to anybody. Sure you won't?
(_She hands_ KATE _the money and takes up the recipe book._)
KATE. I'm not dirty looking--am I, Miss Mary?
MARY (_absorbed in the book_). No. You'll do grand. Flour, currants.
KATE. Ach! You and your currants. Could you not tell a body was her
face clean?
MARY. It's lovely. Hurry, Kate. (KATE _shrugs her shoulders
disgustedly, and goes out by yard door._) Flour, currants----(_She
goes over to the workshop door and listens_)--raisins--(_A sound as of
a blast blowing can be heard._ MARY _becomes intensely interested,
and, throwing aside the book, kneels down and puts her head to the
keyhole._) He's actually got something to work. (_She peeps in._) He
has, indeed. (_She laughs, knocks loudly at the door, and then runs to
the other side of the kitchen._ DANIEL _opens the door and cautiously
peeps out._) Uncle Danny! Ha! Ha! Uncle Danny! (_Dancing up and down
in front of the fireplace._) Uncle Dan's a wonderful man! Uncle Dan's
a wonderful man!
DANIEL (_amazed_). What's all this?
MARY. I'm a cleverer girl than you think, Uncle Dan! I know your great
surprise. I've found it out. And you've actually got it to work!
That's splendid, uncle, isn't it? Father will be awful proud when he
hears about it. And you did it all yourself, uncle?
DANIEL. Well, I took those plans, Mary, to a handy chap, an
acquaintance of mine, and he made it out according to my design. I'm
not sure--I think it works all right.
MARY. And did you get it sold, uncle?
DANIEL. No, Mary, but I have hopes--great hopes. (_He wanders up to
the window apparently searching for the screw driver._)
MARY. Do you think you'd get more than one thousand pounds for it?
DANIEL (_looking out of window and seeing someone approaching_). Don't
know, Mary. Don't know. Very hard to know these things. Where could
that screw driver be I wonder?
MARY. I think I saw father working with it last at something in the
parlour. Will I get it for you, Uncle Dan? (_Knocking at door._)
DANIEL. No. Never mind, Mary. I'll get it myself. There's someone at
the door. You better open the door, Mary. (_He goes off hurriedly to
parlour._) (_Knocking at yard door._) Come in. (DONAL MACKENZIE _opens
the door and comes in._)
MACKENZIE. Fine afternoon, Miss Murray.
MARY (_coldly_). Good day to you.
MACKENZIE. I'm going off to Scotland verra soon, and I thought I would
call over to see you before I went off. You're no angry, are you?
MARY. No. (MACKENZIE _seats himself at the table._)
MACKENZIE. Did you get a post card?
MARY. I got some silly thing this morning that I tore up.
MACKENZIE. I'm sorry. I'm verra fond of you, Mary.
MARY. Miss Murray, please.
MACKENZIE. A girl like you is lost here, you know. Now, if you were a
Scotch lassie you would have a great time enjoying yourself. In a
place like Greenock we have a theatre, and we have a music hall and a
cinematograph show on Saturdays and trains to Glasgow. You could have
a grand time in Scotland.
MARY. Do you really like me, Mr. Mackenzie?
MACKENZIE. Verra much. Indeed I--
MARY. Well. Look here. I would like you very, very much too, if
you----
MACKENZIE. If I what, bonnie Mary?
MARY. I'd even let you call me Mary, and write to me if you wanted to,
if you would do me a favour.
MACKENZIE. What's the favour?
MARY. Uncle Dan has brought home his fan bellows, and it works.
MACKENZIE (_laughs_). The fan bellows! I think he'll never make much
of a fortune of his fan bellows.
MARY. Do you ever examine new inventions?
MACKENZIE. Aye. I'm a specialist on that, you know. I'm the writer of
the inventions column in the Scottish----
MARY. Yes. Yes. That's all right. I know. Are all the inventions you
write about good things?
MACKENZIE. Eh? Ninety-nine per cent. rotten, lassie. Ninety-nine per
cent. perfectly rotten. People don't invent a reciprocating piston
that works every day in the week, or a fan bellows either.
MARY. But if you liked the inventor you could do him a good turn all
the same?
MACKENZIE. Aye. I did that often.
MARY. Then could you do a good turn for Uncle Dan?
MACKENZIE. Give the bellows a boost up. No, Mary. I could nae. I don't
like to grieve you, but committing perjury--No. I couldn't do it,
Mary.
MARY (_coming closer_). Yes. You would. You'd do it for me. Won't you?
MACKENZIE. Eh?
MARY. Look. Uncle Dan has his new fan bellows in that workshop. Go in
and look at it, and if you do like me really, you could tell the
McMinns that it was good--even if it wasn't quite perfect.
MACKENZIE (_hesitatingly_). Um. I'll consider the question.
(DANIEL _re-enters. He stops short on seeing_ MACKENZIE, _and seems to
become very uncomfortable._)
MARY. Uncle Dan! Mr. Mackenzie's going to examine your bellows.
DANIEL. I don't allow everybody to go and look at it. No. I refuse.
It's my property and no one else's.
MARY. Uncle Dan. (_She looks at him meaningly._) Mr. Mackenzie has
promised to give his opinion on it.
DANIEL. It's not protected yet by patent.
MACKENZIE. Andy McMinn is coming over, Mr. Murray. He has got orders
from his sister to settle the case for her. Are you going to pay the
money?
DANIEL. That is a matter of my own deciding. (MARY _goes over to her
uncle and whispers to him._)
MACKENZIE. Verra well. I may go. (_To_ MARY.) I would have done you
that good turn, Miss Murray; but there's no enmity between us. And
(_lowering his voice_)--I hope you get the best of the McMinns in the
bargain. Don't give in, Mr. Murray, easy. Take my tip. I'm from the
stables, you know. (_He laughs knowingly._)
MARY. Here's Andy now (_she looks out through the window_), and
Alick's with him. (_She opens the door,_ ANDY MCMINN _and_ MCCREADY
_enter._ MCCREADY _glances at_ MARY _and_ MACKENZIE, _and goes over
sulkily to the fireplace._ ANDY _advances awkwardly towards_ DANIEL.)
DANIEL (_genially_). Good afternoon, Andy.
ANDY. Good afternoon. (_He looks at_ MACKENZIE, _who nods curtly._) I
suppose you know I've power to settle the case.
DANIEL. Well, you wrote the letter, and so, in point of law, I think
it is you who should look after all this unfortunate business. Believe
me, Andy, I sympathise with you. I do indeed. (MARY _and_ MACKENZIE
_become absorbed in conversation near the table._ ALICK MCCREADY
_stands at the fireplace looking at them and unable to conceal his
jealousy, makes sundry odd noises to distract_ MARY'S _attention. She
pretends not to hear him._) I have your letter here. (_He searches in
his pocket and produces it._) Yes. One thousand pounds. Do you not
think that a trifle high?
ANDY. Well. You know we could have as easily claimed two thousand, but
we didn't like to break you altogether; so we just said that a
thousand would come pretty near it.
MACKENZIE. Mr. Daniel, may I look at the bellows?
MARY. Uncle Dan, I'm sure you won't object. (_She makes a gesture as
if asking him to assent._)
DANIEL (_looking hard at her, and then seeming to understand what she
is about_). Yes. Yes. I'll thrash out the matter here with Andy.
(MACKENZIE _goes across into the workshop, followed by_ MARY. MCCREADY
_sits down disconsolately at the fireplace and begins to smoke his
pipe moodily._) A thousand pounds is impossible. Absolutely out of
the question.
MCCREADY (_to himself_). Ach. She only torments me.
DANIEL (_looking over wonderingly_). Eh? People behave strangely
sometimes, Andy. Very strangely. (MCCREADY _makes no response, but
sits with his back to the two of them._) Just a moment, Andy. What
about a wee drink. Eh, Andy?
ANDY. Aye. Well, I wouldn't mind at all, Daniel.
DANIEL. Just to show there's no ill-feeling over this unfortunate
business. (_He goes to the clock, opens the panel door and takes out a
bottle of whiskey, gets glasses from the dresser and pours out a small
portion of whiskey into each._) Good health, Andy.
ANDY. Good health, Daniel. (_They drink._)
DANIEL. Now to go on with our business. I don't think, in the first
case, that this was an affaire de coeur, as the Frenchmen say.
ANDY. Eh?
DANIEL. You don't understand French? Of course not. No. It wasn't a
love affair, I mean. I don't think Sarah was in love with John, was
she?
ANDY (_hesitatingly_). Well--indeed, now, I don't know that she was.
DANIEL. No. We're all aware of that. He was just what we'd call a
likely man. That's all.
ANDY. Aye. He would have been a good match for her.
DANIEL. Yes. Quite so, Andy. He would have been a good match for her.
(_He makes notes in a pocket book._) Nothing like notes, Andy. Now, so
much for the love part of the business. They never exchanged letters?
ANDY. No. No letters.
DANIEL (_writing_). No letters. Of course in a breach of promise
letters are a great help. A great help. I'm very glad, however, just
for your sister's sake, that she never wrote any to John. Imagine them
reading out the love letters in the open court, and all the servant
boys gaping and laughing.
ANDY. It's not nice, right enough. It's one thing I wouldn't like.
DANIEL. No. It's one thing we would not like. Well. No love. No
letters. Next thing. He never courted her?
ANDY. Well, he came over and sat in the house a few nights.
DANIEL. Yes. No doubt. But hadn't he always some message on business
to transact with you? Loan of a plough or a horse, or something like
that?
ANDY (_uneasily_). That's so, of course.
DANIEL. Ah, yes. That's so, of course.
ANDY. But I seen him with his arm round her the night of the social at
the school house.
DANIEL. Andy. That's a wee failing of John's. I often warned him about
doing that sort of thing indiscriminately. A bit of a ladies' man,
John, in his way. I saw him do the same nonsense four or five times
that night with other girls. John likes to think himself a bit of a
gay dog, you know. It's not right--I don't think myself it's a bit
proper to put your arm round a girl's waist on every occasion, but
sometimes it's quite allowable. A night like a social, for instance.
ANDY. Aye. Of course a social's different.
DANIEL. Aye, Andy, a social's different. Well, now. No love, no
letters, no courting, no photographs exchanged? (_He looks at_ ANDY
_inquiringly_). No photographs exchanged? (_He notes it down._) No
ring? In fact, Andy, no nothing.
ANDY. But he proposed to her right enough.
DANIEL. Who said so?
ANDY (_astonished_). What? Do you mean to deny he didn't?
DANIEL. My dear Andy, I don't know. There was no one there but the
two, I suppose, when he asked her--if he did ask her. There's only her
word for it.
ANDY. He wouldn't deny it himself?
DANIEL. Well. That depends on whether he really asked her to marry him
of course. And it's likely enough that John would be inclined to deny
it if his memory was at all bad--it is a bad memory he has, you know.
He forgets often to return your ploughs and that sort of thing.
ANDY (_blankly_). Aye. He has a bad memory.
DANIEL. Yes. Just so. And the fact that a verdict of one thousand
pounds would hang on it would hardly make it any better. Would it?
You've a bad case against us, Andy. A rotten case! In fact, looking
over the whole thing carefully, do you really believe you'd make even
a ten pound note out of us?
ANDY (_despairingly_). I wish Sarah had come and settled the case
herself.
DANIEL. Ah, no. You've a better head, Andy, for seeing the sensible
side of a thing, far better. (MARY _comes out of the workshop smiling
gaily._) Well?
MARY. Uncle Dan, he's delighted with it.
ANDY. What with? The bellows?
MARY. Yes. Go in, Andy, till you see it.
ANDY. Is it true, Daniel, you were offered two thousand for it?
DANIEL. We'll just go in and have a look at it. (ANDY _and he go into
workshop._)
MARY (_looking across at_ ALICK). What's the matter?
ALICK. Nothing. I'm going home. (_He goes across to the yard door._)
MARY. Alick!
MCCREADY. Goodbye.
MARY. And I was going to go to all the trouble of baking a big plum
cake for you, you big ungrateful thing.
MCCREADY (_stopping at the door_). I know what your plum cakes would
be like. (_He opens the door and stops again before going out._)
MARY. Well, get that big, ugly Maggie Murphy to bake them for you
then.
MCCREADY (_looking out through door and then coming inside again_). I
say, here's Kate and your father coming and a load of flour.
MARY (_in a frightened voice_). Kate and father?
MCCREADY. He seems to be in a bit of a temper.
MARY (_in a frightened voice_). He's caught her with the flour!
MCCREADY (_laughing_). Flour? Aye--she's carrying about three stone of
it! Boys, but that would make a powerful pudding!
MARY. It was to have been the nicest one I could have baked.
MCCREADY (_coming in and going over to her_). Mary.
MARY. What?
MCCREADY. You wouldn't come to my house where there would be no stint
of flour or raisins or anything else, and I'd eat all you cooked for
me no matter if I was dying after it.
MARY. Go to your house!
ALICK. Aye. Look here, wee girl. I got this----(_He fumbles and
produces a ring._) Let me put that on your wee finger, won't you?
MARY. Oh, Alick, what a lovely wee ring. (_She allows him to put it on
her finger, and is shyly kissing him when_ JOHN _enters, followed by_
KATE, _who is trying vainly to stop a leak in the bag of flour which
she is carrying._ KATE _goes to the dresser and places the bag on
it._)
JOHN (_severely to_ MARY). Mary. Did you send her for more flour?
MARY (_meekly_). Yes, father.
JOHN. And didn't I leave word there was no more to be got without my
orders? (MARY _hangs her head._) It's lamentable the waste in this
house! I was just looking at the pass book last night, and you'd think
this house was a bakery to see the amount of flour comes into it.
MARY (_submissively_). I'm sorry, father.
JOHN. When I was out on the road, I seen a trail of flour leading up
our loaning, and says I to myself, Jeminy' father, are they getting
some more! So I followed up the mark and just caught up on her coming
through the gate.
MARY (_a little defiantly_). It's paid for, Kate, anyway. Isn't it?
KATE. It is, Miss. (_She busies herself putting the flour into a box,
and then slips out during the next speech._)
JOHN. Eh? Who give you the money?
MARY (_going over to her father and whispering_). Uncle Dan is in
there, father, with Andy McMinn and Mr. Mackenzie, the Scotch
engineer, looking at his bellows.
JOHN (_amazed_). Eh? Andy McMinn? Is Dan settling the case?
MARY. I believe he'll do it yet.
JOHN (_admiringly_). He has a great head on him, Daniel.
MACKENZIE (_coming out of workshop and going over to_ MARY). Mary, I'm
sorry. That bellows is such an absolutely rotten thing--so useless and
so absolutely rotten that I can't--(_He sees_ JOHN.) How are you, Mr.
Murray?
JOHN. Fine day.
MARY (_appealingly_). Mr. Mackenzie, what did you say to Andy about
it?
MACKENZIE. What did I say? Oh, ma perjured conscience--I said it was a
grand thing. (DANIEL _and_ ANDY MCMINN _come in from workshop._)
ANDY (_nervously_). Brave day, John.
JOHN. Aye. It is.
ANDY. Sarah gave me power to settle the case.
JOHN. I'm glad to hear it.
MACKENZIE. I tell you what it is, Mr. Daniel Murray. It's a good thing
that--a right good thing, and I'll make you an offer for it.
ANDY (_eagerly_). What's it worth?
MACKENZIE (_with a look at_ MARY). It's worth--it's worth more than
all the damages your sister will get from Mr. Murray.
DANIEL (_suddenly_). I tell you what it is, Andy, and believe me when
I tell you, I'm sacrificing a great deal. I'll make a deal with you.
Instead of a lump sum cash down, I'll hand over all the rights and
royalties of that same bellows to you to settle the case.
ANDY (_dubiously_). I--I don't know.
DANIEL. You will have all the expense of the law, the bad name that
your sister will be having over the head of being in a breach of
promise, and all the expenses of solicitors and lawyers. Then, after
that, trying to get the money out of us, and, mind you, we will fight
you to the last ditch. Won't we, John?
JOHN. Aye.
DANIEL. There now. What do you say, Mr. Mackenzie?
MACKENZIE. I tell you what it is, Mr. Murray. I'll make you an offer
for----
ANDY (_hastily_). I'll take your offer, Daniel.
DANIEL. One second. I drew up a wee agreement for you to sign, and
I'll fetch the bellows. (_He goes into the workshop._)
ANDY. I don't like signing my name to agreements or things like that
unless I'm quite certain they're all right, Mr. Mackenzie.
MACKENZIE (_with a sly look at_ MARY). Well, if you have any
compunction about signing, I'll do it myself.
MARY. I think Uncle Dan's a fool to throw away the thing that way. I
do indeed. (DANIEL _comes out with the parcel and the pen, ink and
paper._)
DANIEL. Just sign your name to that, Andy. It's a sort of agreement to
settle the case--you can read it for yourself. (_He hands a sheet of
paper to_ ANDY _with the pen._) It's to show that the whole thing is
fixed up to the satisfaction of everybody. (ANDY _looks at it and then
signs._) Ah. Good! Now, Alick, and you, Mr. Mackenzie, just witness it
and the date. (_They both sign._) And now, Andy, there's your bellows.
(ANDY _looks at it, and then takes it under his arm._) And may you
have the best of luck with it. (ANDY _looks wonderingly at the parcel
in his arms and moves slowly towards the door._)
MACKENZIE. Noo, my reward, Miss Murray--Mary rather. (_He goes forward
and she stretches out her hand for him to shake, when he notices the
ring, and stops short._)
JOHN. I hope you're satisfied, Andy.
ANDY. I'm just wondering, Mr. Mackenzie, do you think----
MACKENZIE. I think nothing for a year. I'll--I'll--I'm for Scotland in
the morning. (_He goes out morosely through the door._)
DANIEL. There, Andy. There's company home for you, and good luck to
you. It's a sad heart I'll have this night.
ANDY. I'm wondering what Sarah would say--(_He goes to the door._)
Ach! She couldn't do better herself. No courting.
DANIEL. No. No courting.
ANDY. And no love and no letters.
DANIEL. No. No love and no letters.
ANDY. And no ring nor nothing, and a thousand pound bellows.
DANIEL. Yes, Andy. And a thousand pound bellows. (_He wanders out
abstractedly._ DANIEL _follows him to the door and shouts after
him_)--Goodbye, Andy. And may you have the best of luck with it.
ANDY (_without_). Thank ye, Daniel. Goodbye. (DANIEL _closes the door
after him and looks sadly but triumphantly across at_ JOHN. ALICK
_and_ MARY _go to the window together and look out after_ ANDY.)
DANIEL. Well, John?
JOHN (_with a sigh of intense relief and gratitude_). Dan, I've said
it before, and I'll say it again, you've a great head on you, Daniel.
(CURTAIN.)