_Enter_ BILL.

_Bill_. Our Mattie! Gracious! what's the row, Susan?

_Sus_. She ain't well. Take her other arm, Bill, and help her out o'

this. We ain't in no Christian country. Pluck up, Mattie, dear.

_Bill_. Come into the tart-shop. I'm a customer.

_They go towards the shop. Exit_ POLICEMAN.

_Mat_. No, no, Sukey! I can't abide the smell of it. Let me sit on the kerb for a minute. (_Sits down_.) Oh, father! father!

_Bill_. Never you mind, Mattie! If he wor twenty fathers, he shan't come near ye.

_Mat_. Oh, Bill! if you could find him for me! He would take me home.

_Bill_. Now who'd ha' thought o' that? Axially wantin' her own father!

I'd run far enough out o' the way o' mine--an' farther if he wur a-axin' arter me.

_Mat_. Oh me! my side!

_Sus_. It's hunger, poor dear! (_Sits down beside her_.)

_Bill_ (_aside_). This won't do, Bill! I'm a shamed o' _you_, Bill!

_Exit_.

_Mat_. No, Susan, it's not hunger. It's the old story, Sue.

_Sus_. Mattie! I never! You don't mean to go for to tell me you're a breakin' of your precious heart about _him_? It's not your gentleman sure_ly_! It's not _him_ ye're turnin' sick about, this time o' day?

MATTIE _nods her head listlessly_.

_Sus_. What's up fresh, then? You was pretty bobbish when you left me.

It's little he thinks of _you_, I'll be bound.

_Mat_. That's true enough. It's little he ever thought of me. He _did_ say he loved me, though. It's fifty times he did!

_Sus_. Lies, lies, Mattie--all lies!

_Mat_. No, Susan; it wasn't lies. He meant it--at the time. That's what made it look all right. Oh dear! Oh dear!

_Sus_. But what's come to you now, Mattie? What's fresh in it? You're not turned like this all at once for nothink!

_Mat_. I've seen him!

_Sus_. Seen him! Oh, my! I wish it had been me. _I_'d ha' seen him!

I'd ha' torn his ugly eyes out.

_Mat_. They ain't ugly eyes. They're big and blue, and they sparkle so when he talks to her!

_Sus_. And who's _her_? Ye didn't mention a _her_. Some brazen-faced imperence!

_Mat_. No. The young lady at Mrs. Clifford's.

_Sus_. Oho! See if I do a st.i.tch for her!--Shan't I leave a needle in _her_ shimmy, just!

_Mat_. What _shall_ I do! All the good's gone out of me! And such a pain here!

_Sus_. Keep in yer breath a minute, an' push yer ribs out. It's one on 'em's got a top o' the other.

_Mat_. Such a grand creature! And her colour coming and going like the shadows on the corn! It's no wonder he forgot poor me. But it'll burn itself out afore long.

_Sus_. Don't ye talk like that, Mattie; I can't abear it.

_Mat_. If I was dressed like her, though, and could get my colour back! But laws! I'm such a washed out piece o' goods beside her!

_Sus_. That's as I say, Matilda! It's the dress makes the differ.

_Mat_. No, Susan, it ain't. It's the free look of them--and the head up--and the white hands--and the taper fingers. They're stronger than us, and they're that trained like, that all their body goes in one, like the music at a concert. _I_ couldn't pick up a needle without going down on my knees after it. It's the pain in my side, Sue.--Yes, it's a fine thing to be born a lady. It's _not_ the clothes, Sue. If we was dressed ever so, we couldn't come near them. It's that look,--I don't know what.

_Sus_. Speak for yerself, Mattie; _I_'m not a goin' to think such small beer of _my_self, _I_ can tell you! I believe if I'd been took in time--

_Mat_. It's a big _if_ that though, Sue.--And then she looked _so_ good!

You'd hardly think it of me,--perhaps it's because I'm dying--but for one minute I could ha' kissed her very shoes. Oh, my side!

_Sus_. (_putting her arm tight round her waist_). Does that help it Mattie, dear?--a little teeny bit?

_Mat_. Yes, Sukey. It holds it together a bit. Will he break her heart too, I wonder?

_Sus_. No fear o' that! Ladies takes care o' theirselves. They're brought up to it.

_Mat_. It's only poor girls gentlemen don't mind hurting, I suppose.

_Sus_. It's the ladies' fathers and brothers, Mattie! We've got n.o.body to look after us.

_Mat_. They may break their hearts, though, for all that.

_Sus_. They won't forgive them like you, then, Mattie!

_Mat_. I dare say they're much the same as we are when it comes to that, Sue.

_Sus_. Don't say _me_, Mattie. _I_ wouldn't forgive him--no, not if I was to die for it. But what came of it, child?

_Mat_. I made some noise, I suppose, and the lady started.

_Sus_. And then you up and spoke?

_Mat_. I turned sick, and fell down.