Now go an tell your ole woman.

[The VICAR stands as though stricken.]

Did you 'ear me speak? Tell 'er!

[The VICAR wavers a moment, and then staggers out silently through the door, right. ROBERT watches him off with a look of iron. He pays no heed to MANSON, who stands quite close to him, on the left.]

See that blighter? That's the bloke as was born with no bowels!

'E might a-made a man o' me once, if 'e'd tried; but 'e didn't--'im and 'is like. Hm! Dam foolish, I call it, don't you?

MANSON. Yes, both: foolish and--d.a.m.ned!

[ROBERT turns and looks into his face for the first time as the curtain slowly falls on the First Act.]

THE SECOND ACT

As the curtain rises, the scene and situation remain unchanged.

Presently, Robert, having completed his inspection of the other's face and costume, moves away with a characteristic interjection.

ROBERT. Oh, Jeeroosalem! . . .

'Ere, 'elp us orf, comride: I'm wet through. Rainin' cats an'

dorgs dahn at the Junction! 'Ere, I cawn't . . . Wot oh! The very identical! . . .

[MANSON has helped him off with his coat, and now hands him the ca.s.sock.]

[Getting into it.] Don't know oo you are, ole pal, but you're a bit of orl right! . . . Don't I look a corf-drop? 'Ere, where ye teking it to? . . .

[He watches MANSON suspiciously as he places his coat before the fire to dry.]

Bit 'andy, ain't yer? . . .

So this is where 'e lives! A bloomin' palace, as never I did see! . . .

[MANSON prepares a place for him at the table, and pours out a cup of tea, etc.]

Right you are, ole comride! 'E said breakfast, an' breakfast it shall be, I don't fink! Blimey! Sossingers! Ain't 'ad the taste of sossingers in my gizzard for I don't know 'ow long!

[He sits and devours whilst MANSON breaks and hands him bread, waiting upon him.]

[Between bites.] Wouldn't think as I was 'is brother, would yer--not to look at me? But strooth, _I am_; an' wot's more, 'e cawn't deny it! . . . [He labours with a little joke.] There's a lot o' brothers knockin' abaht as people don't know on, eh what?

See wot I mean? [Suddenly serious.] Not as I'm one o' them sort, mind yer: my father married my mother honest, same as I married my little . . .

[After a moment's reflection, he makes fresh onslaught upon the sausages. Presently he looks up.]

'Ere, ain't you goin' ter 'av' none? . . . Cawn't yer speak?

MANSON. Yes.

ROBERT. Well, why cawn't yer arnser a bloke when 'e arsks yer civil?

MANSON. You didn't make it dear that you wanted to eat with me.

ROBERT. Want a bit of 'eart in it, eh?

MANSON. Yes, that's all.

ROBERT [largely]. Sit dahn, ole pal! Mek yourself at 'ome!

[MANSON obeys.]

See, wot was I tawkin' abaht. Just afore you turned narsty?

MANSON. You were going to say something about--your little girl's mother.

[ROBERT'S cutlery bristles up like bayonets.]

ROBERT. Look 'ere, mate, don't you come tryin' it on with me! I don't care _oo_ you are!

MANSON. I know that.

ROBERT. Then let me be, I tell yer! You tek all the taste out o'

my sossingers.

MANSON. I should like to hear about her, comrade.

ROBERT. _You_ cawn't bring 'er back. She's dead.

MANSON. What was her name?

ROBERT. Mary--same as the little gel's.

MANSON. I wonder whether they are anything alike.

ROBERT. That's wot I come to see! . . .

She 'ad 'er mother's nose when she was a biby--_and_ 'er eyes!

Gorstrike, she was the very spit--far as a biby could be! . . .

Swelp me Moses, if I find 'er anything like Bill's ole geezer, I'll cut 'er throat!

MANSON. And if she's like her mother? What then?

ROBERT. Why, then . . . there's allus my own. I nearly did it once.

MANSON [after a pause]. How did you come to lose her?