JUDITH: Not your home now.
JIM: Then who the devil"s home ...
JUDITH: It"s Ruth"s and Michael"s.
JIM: My daughter"s and her man"s: their home"s my home.
JUDITH: You shall not stay.
JIM: It"s got to "shall not" now?
The cuckoo"s changed his tune; but I can"t say I like the new note better: it"s too harsh: The gowk"s grown croupy. But, la.s.s, I never thought You"d be harsh with me: yet even you"ve turned raspy ...
First "cannot," then ...
JUDITH: Nay! I"ll not have their home Pulled down about their ears by any man; And least of all by you--the home they"ve made ...
JIM: Stolen, I"d say.
JUDITH: Together, for themselves And their three boys.
JIM: Jim, granddad three times over?
It"s well you broke it piecemeal: the old callant"s A waffly heart; and any sudden joy Just sets it twittering: but the more the merrier!
JUDITH: You shall not wreck their happiness. I"d not dreamed Such happiness as theirs could be in this world.
Since it was built, there"s not been such a home At Krindlesyke: it"s only been a house ...
JIM: "Twas just about as homely as a hea.r.s.e In my young days: but my luck"s turned, it seems.
JUDITH: It takes more than four walls to make a home, And such a home as Michael"s made for Ruth.
Though she"s a fendy la.s.s; she"s too like me, And needs a helpmate, or she"ll waste herself; And, with another man, she might have wrecked, Instead of building. She"s got her man, her mate: Husband and father, born, day in, day out, He works to keep a home for wife and weans.
There"s never been a luckier la.s.s than Ruth: Though she deserves it, too; and it"s but seldom Good la.s.ses are the lucky ones; and few Get their deserts in this life.
JIM: True, egox!
JUDITH: Few, good or bad. But Ruth has everything-- A home, a steady husband, and her boys.
There never were such boys.
JIM: A pretty picture: It takes my fancy: and the dear old grannie, Why do you leave her out? And there"s a corner For granddad in it, surely--an armchair On the other side of the ingle, with a pipe And packet of twist, and a pot of nappy beer, Hot-fettled four-ale, handy on the hob?
Ay: there"s the chair: I"d best secure it now.
(_As he seats himself, with his back to the door, the head of BELL HAGGARD, in her orange-coloured kerchief, peeps round the jamb: then slowly withdraws, unseen of JIM or JUDITH._)
JIM: Fetch up the swipes and s.h.a.g. I can reach the cutty ...
(_He takes down MICHAEL"s pipe from the mantel-shelf; and sticks it between his teeth: but JUDITH s.n.a.t.c.hes at it, breaking the stem, and flings the bowl on the fire._)
JUDITH: And you, to touch his pipe!
(_JIM stares at her, startled, as she stands before him, with drawn face and set teeth: then, still eyeing her uneasily, begins to bl.u.s.ter._)
JIM: You scarting randy!
I"ll teach you manners. That"s a good three-halfpence Smashed into smithereens: and all for nothing.
I"ve lammed a wench for less. I"ve half a mind To snap you like the stopple, you yackey-yaa!
De"il rive your sark! It"s long since I"ve had the price Of a clay in my pouch: and I"m half-dead for a puff.
What"s taken you? What"s set you agee with me?
You used to like me; and you always seemed A menseful body: and I lippened to you.
But you"re just a wheepie-leekie weatherc.o.c.k Like the lave of women, when a man"s mislucket, Moidart and mismeaved and beside himself.
I fancied I"d be in clover at Krindlesyke, With you and all: but, sink me, if I haven"t Just stuck my silly head into a bee-bike!
What"s turned you vicious? I only want to smoke A cutty in peace: and you go on the rampage.
I mustn"t smoke young master"s pipe, it seems-- His pipe, no less! Young c.o.c.k-a-ride-a-roosie Is on the muckheap now; and all the hens Are clucking round him. I ken what it is: The c.o.c.kmadendy"s been too easy with you.
It doesn"t do to let you womenfolk Get out of hand. It"s time I came, i" faiks, To pull you up, and keep you in your place.
I"ll have no naggers, narr-narring all day long: I"ll stand no fantigues. If the cull"s too soft ...
JUDITH: Soft, did you say? I"ve seen him hike a man, And a heftier man than you, over a d.y.k.e, For yarking a lame beast. That drover"ll mind-- Ay, to his dying day, he"ll not forget He once ran into something hard.
JIM: Ay--ay ...
He"s that sort, is he? My luck is out again.
I want a quiet life, to be let alone: And Krindlesyke won"t be a bed of roses, With that sort ramping round. (_Starting uneasily._) What"s that? I thought ...
There"s no one in the other room, is there?
I"ve a feeling in my bones somebody"s listening.
You"ve not deceived me, Judith? You"ve not trapped ...
I"m all a-swither, sweating like a brock.
I little dreamt you"d turn against me, Judith: But even here I don"t feel safe now.
JUDITH: Safe?
JIM: So you don"t know? I fancied everyone kenned.
Else why the devil should they stare like that?
And when you, too, looked ... Nay, how could you learn?
I"m davered, surely: Seppy Shank"s rum Has gone to my noddle: drink"s the very devil On an empty waim: and I never had a head.
What have I done? Ay, wouldn"t you like to ken, To holler on the hounds?
JUDITH: Jim!
JIM: But what matter Whether you ken or not? You"ve done for me Already, dang you, with your hettle-tongue: You"ve put the notion in my head, the curs Are on my scent: and now, I cannot rest.
Happen, they"re slinking now up b.l.o.o.d.ysyke, Like adders through the bent ... Nay, they don"t yelp, The hounds that sleuth me: it"s only in my head I hear the yapping: they"re too cunning to yelp.
The sleichers slither after me on their bellies, As dumb and slick as adders ... But I"m doitered, And doting like a dobby. I want to sleep ...
A good night"s rest would pull my wits together.
I swore I"d sleep ... but I couldn"t close an eye, now Since ...
JUDITH: Jim, what ails you? Tell me what you"ve done.
I"m sorry, Jim ...
JIM: I swear I never set out To do it, Judith; and the thing was done, Before I came to my senses: that"s G.o.d"s truth: And may h.e.l.l blast ... You"re sorry? Nay, but Jim"s Too old a bird to be caught with chaff. You"re fly: But, Jim"s fly, too. No: mum"s the word.
JUDITH: O Jim, You, surely, never think I"d ...
JIM: I don"t know.
A man in my case can"t tell who to trust, When every mongrel"s yowling for his carcase.