BOYS' VOICES. [One after another in a whispered crescendo] Johnny
Builder! Johnny Builder! Johnny Builder!
BUILDER rises, turns and stares at them. The THREE HEADS disappear, and a Boy's voice cries shrilly: "Johnny Builder!" BUILDER moves towards the window; voices are now crying in various pitches and keys: "Johnny Builder!" "Beatey Builder!" "Beat 'is wife-er!" "Beatey Builder!"
BUILDER stands quite motionless, staring, with the street lamp lighting up a queer, rather pitiful defiance on his face. The voices swell. There comes a sudden swish and splash of water, and broken yells of dismay.
TOPPING'S VOICE. Scat! you young devils!
The sound of scuffling feet and a long-drawnout and distant
"Miaou!"
BUILDER stirs, shuts the window, draws the curtains, goes to the
armchair before the fireplace and sits down in it.
TOPPING enters with a little tray on which is a steaming jug of fluid, some biscuits and a glass. He comes stealthily up level with the chair. BUILDER stirs and looks up at him.
TOPPING. Excuse me, sir, you must 'ave digested yesterday morning's breakfast by now—must live to eat, sir.
BUILDER. All right. Put it down.
TOPPING. [Putting the tray down on the table and taking up BUILDER'S pipe] I fair copped those young devils.