_Sus_. Never mind; you go and see.

_Mat_. I shan't take it, Susan. I couldn't.

_Sus_. Stuff and nonsense! I'll wait you round the corner: I don't like the smell o' them pastry things.

_Exit_. MATTIE _walks past the window_.

_Mat_. I don't like going. It makes me feel a thief to be suspected.

_Bill_. Lor! it's our Mattie! There's our Mattie!--Mattie! Mattie!

_Mat_. Ah, Bill! you're there--are you?

_Bill_. Yes, Mattie. It's a tart-show. You walks up and takes yer chice;--leastways, you makes it: somebody else takes it.

_Mat_. Wouldn't you like to _take_ your choice sometimes, Bill?

_Bill_. In course I would.

_Mat_. Then why don't you work, and better yourself a bit?

_Bill_. Bless you, Mattie! myself is werry comf'able. He never complains.

_Mat_. You're hungry sometimes,--ain't you?

_Bill_. Most remarkable 'ungry, Mattie--this werry moment. Odd you should ask now--ain't it?

_Mat_. You would get plenty to eat if you would work.

_Bill_. Thank you--I'd rayther not. Them as ain't 'ungry never enj'ys their damaged tarts. If I'm 'appy, vere's the odds? as the cat said to the mouse as wanted to be let off the engagement. Why should I work more'n any other gen'leman?

_Mat_. A gentleman that don't work is a curse to his neighbours, Bill.

_Bill_. Bless you, Mattie! I ain't a curse--nohow to n.o.body. I don't see as you've got any call to say that, Mattie. I don't go fakin'

clies, or crackin' cribs--nothin' o' the sort. An' I don't mind doin'

of a odd job, if it _is_ a odd one. Don't go for to say that again, Mattie.

_Mat_. I won't, then, Bill. But just look at yourself!--You're all in rags.

_Bill_. Rags is the hairier, as the Skye terrier said to the black-an'-tan.--I shouldn't object to a new pair of old trousers, though.

_Mat_. Why don't you have a pair of real new ones? If you would only sweep a crossing--

_Bill_. There ain't, a crossin' but what's took. Besides, my legs ain't put together for one place all day long. It ain't to be done, Mattie. They can't do it.

_Mat_. There's the shoe-black business, then.

_Bill_. That ain't so bad, acause you can shoulder your box and trudge. But if it's all the same to you, Mattie, I'd rayther enj'y life: they say it's short.

_Mat_. But it ain't the same to me. It's so bad for you to be idle, Bill!

_Bill_. Not as I knows on. I'm tollable jolly, so long's I gets the browns for my bed.

_Mat_. Wouldn't you like a bed with a blanket to it?

_Bill_. Well, yes--if it was guv to me. But I don't go in for knocking of yourself about, to sleep warm.

_Mat_. Well, look here, Bill. It's all Susan and I can do to pay for our room, and get a bit of bread and a cup of tea. It ain't enough.--If you were to earn a few pence now--

_Bill_. Oh golly! I never thought o' that. What a ha.s.s I wur, to be sure! I'll go a shoe-blackin' to-morror--I will.

_Mat_. Did you ever black a shoe, Bill?

_Bill_. I tried a boot oncet--when Jim wor a blackin' for a day or two. But I made nothink on it--nothink worth mentionin'. The blackin'

or som'at was wrong. The gen'leman said it wur coal-dust, an he'd slog me, an' adwised me to go an' learn my trade.

_Mat_. And what did you say to that?

_Bill_. Holler'd out "Shine yer boots!" as loud as I could holler.

_Mat_. You must try my boots next time you come.

_Bill_. This wery night, Mattie. I'll make 'em shine like plate gla.s.s--see then if I don't. But where'll I get a box and brushes?

_Mat_. You shall have our brushes and my footstool.

_Bill_. I see! Turn the stool upside down, put the brushes in, and carry it by one leg--as drunken Moll does her kid.--Here you are, sir!

Black your boots, sir?--Shine your trotters, sir? (_bawling_.)

_Mat_. That'll do; that'll do, Bill! Famous! You needn't do it again (_holding her ears_). Would you like a tart?

_Bill_. Just wouldn't I, then!--Shine your boooooots!

_Mat_. (_laughing_). Do hold your tongue, Bill. There's a penny for a tart.

_Bill_. Thank you, Mattie. Thank you.

_Exit into the shop_.

_Jack and Jim_ (_touching their supposed caps_). Please, ma'am! Please, ma'am! I likes 'em too. I likes 'em more 'n Bill.

_Mat_. I'm very sorry, but--(_feeling in her pocket_) I've got a ha'penny, I believe. No--there's a penny! You must share it, you know. (_Gives it to Jack. Knocks at Mrs. Clifford's door._)

_Jack and Jim_. Thank you, ma'am. Thank you, ma'am.

_Exit_ MATTIE _into_ MRS. CLIFFORD'S.

_Jim_. Now, Jack, what's it to be?