BUILDER. You little devil! If I catch you, I'll wring your blasted little neck!
BOY'S VOICE. [A little distant] 'Oo blacked the copper's eye?
BUILDER, in an ungovernable passion, seizes a small flower-pot from the sill and dings it with all his force. The sound of a crash.
BOY'S VOICE. [Very distant] Ya-a-ah! Missed!
BUILDER stands leaning out, face injected with blood, shaking his fist.
The CURTAIN falls for a few seconds.
SCENE III
Evening the same day.
BUILDER's study is dim and neglected-looking; the window is still open, though it has become night. A street lamp outside shines in, and the end of its rays fall on BUILDER asleep. He is sitting in a high chair at the fireside end of the writing-table, with his elbows on it, and his cheek resting on his hand. He is still unshaven, and his clothes unchanged. A Boy's head appears above the level of the window-sill, as if beheaded and fastened there.
BOY'S VOICE. [In a forceful whisper] Johnny Builder!