"THE LOST HEIRESS"
The scene is laid outside a village inn in that county of curious
dialects, Loamshire. The inn is easily indicated by a round table
bearing two mugs of liquid, while a fallen log emphasizes the rural
nature of the scene. Gaffer Jarge and Gaffer Willyum are seated at
the table, surrounded by a fringe of whisker, Jarge being slightly
more of a gaffer than Willyum.
Jarge (who missed his dinner through nervousness and has been
ordered to sustain himself with soup--as he puts down the steaming
mug). Eh, bor, but this be rare beer. So it be.
Willyum (who had too much dinner and is now draining his sanatogen).
You be right, Gaffer Jarge. Her be main rare beer. (He feels up his
sleeve, but thinking better of it wipes his mouth with the back of
his hand.) Main rare beer, zo her be. (Gagging.) Zure-lie.
Jarge. Did I ever tell 'ee, bor, about t' new squoire o' these
parts--him wot cum hum yesterday from furren lands? Gaffer Henry wor
a-telling me.
Willyum (privately bored). Thee didst tell 'un, lad, sartain sure
thee didst. And Gaffer Henry, he didst tell 'un too. But tell 'un
again. It du me good to hear 'un, zo it du. Zure-lie.
Jarge. A rackun it be a main queer tale, queerer nor any them
writing chaps tell about. It wor like this. (Dropping into English,
in his hurry to get his long speech over before he forgets it.) The
old Squire had a daughter who disappeared when she was three weeks
old, eighteen years ago. It was always thought she was stolen by
somebody, and the Squire would have it that she was still alive.
When he died a year ago he left the estate and all his money to a
distant cousin in Australia, with the condition that if he did not
discover the missing baby within twelve months everything was to go
to the hospitals. (Remembering his smock and whiskers with a start.)
And here du be the last day, zo it be, and t' Squoire's daughter,
her ain't found.
Willyum (puffing at a new and empty clay pipe). Zure-lie. (Jarge, a
trifle jealous of Willyum's gag, pulls out a similar pipe, but
smokes it with the bowl upside down to show his independence.) T'
Squire's darter (Jarge frowns), her bain't (Jarge wishes he had
thought of "bain't")--her bain't found. (There is a dramatic pause,
only broken by the prompter.) Her ud be little Rachel's age now,
bor?
Jarge (reflectively). Ay, ay. A main queer lass little Rachel du be.
Her bain't like one of us.