The Scaring off of Teddy Dawson: A Comedy in One Act

Living room of a small house in an East End sidestreet. Door direct to street back centre. Next it, window. Door to house l. Kitchen range R. Dresser with crockery l. Centre is a table. Four deal chairs. At the table Polly Bettesworth is ironing as the curtain rises. She is no more than fifty, but a hard life has aged her in appearance beyond her years. A cheap serge skirt and a dark printed blouse, with elastic-sided boots, form her visible attire. Her husband (Andrew) throws open the door c. and enters rapidly from street. He is a navvy, dressed in corduroy, with a leather belt, and is in his shirt sleeves, having been to the nearest public for the supper beer, which is in a large jug in his hand He is a large man, and Polly seems small by con-start. It is evening, but still light.
Andrew ( angrily ). Where's our Liza?
Polly . What do yer want 'er for?
Andrew ( closing door ). I'm goin' to tan 'er 'ide for 'er.
Polly . What's to do? ( Calmly continuing ironing )
Andrew ( crossing to door l. ). I'll put beer in back to keep cool an' then I'll tell yer. ( Opens left door, leaves jug inside and closes door again. ) Now, do yer know wot I've bin 'earing in the Bluebell abart our Liza?
Polly . Tell me.
Andrew . Liza's started courtin'! That's wot that whistlin's bin as we've bin 'earing so much lately.
Polly ( stopping ironing ). Courtin'! At 'er age?
Andrew . It's Gawd's truth. Wait while I catch the bloke wot's after 'er. I'll skin 'im alive.