Unless he confesses instantly who put him up to the job!
Miss J. J. (earnestly). I've told yer the bloomin' truth, I 'ave—or send I may die!
I'm on'y a Crossing-sweeper, Sir, but I'd scorn to tell yer a lie!
Give me a quarter of a hour—no more—just time to kneel down and pray,
As I used to at mother's knee long ago—then the Copper kin lead me away.
[Kneels in lime-light. The Policeman turns away, and uses his handkerchief violently; the Duke rubs his eyes.
The Duke. No, blow me if I can do it, for I feel my eyes are all twitching!
(With conviction.) If he's good enough to kneel by his mother's side, he's good enough to be in my kitching!
[Duke dismisses Constable, and, after disappearing into the Mansion for a moment, returns with a neat Page's livery, which he presents to the little Crossing-sweeper.
Miss J. J. (naïvely). 'Ow much shall I ask for on this, Sir? What! Yer don't mean to say they're for me!
Am I really to be a Page to one of England's proud aristocra-cee?
[Does some steps.
Mechanical change to Scene II.—State Apartment at the Duke's. Magnificent furniture, gilding, chandeliers. Suits of genuine old armour. Statuary (lent by British and Kensington Museums).
Enter Miss J., with her face washed, and looking particularly plump in her Page's livery. She wanders about stage, making any humorous comments that may occur to her on the armour and statuary. She might also play tricks on the Butler, and kiss the maids—all of which will serve to relieve the piece by delicate touches of comedy, and delight a discriminating audience.
Enter the Duke.
I hope, my lad, that we are making you comfortable here? [Kindly.