Harry (Vexed laugh). What about that pretty tomorrow notion? I've a hungry chum in London—waiting for me.
Bessie (Defending herself). Why should I make the poor old friendless man miserable? I thought you were far away. I thought you were dead. I didn't know but you had never been born. I... I... (Harry turns to her. She desperately.) It was easier to believe it myself. (Carried away.) And after all it's true. It's come to pass. This is the to-morrow we've been waiting for.
Harry (Half perfunctorily). Aye. Anybody can see that your heart is as soft as your voice.
Bessie (As if unable to keep back the words). I didn't think you would have noticed my voice.
Harry (Already inattentive). H'm. Dashed scrape. This is a queer to-morrow, without any sort of today, as far as I can see. (Resolutely.) I must try the door.
Bessie. Well—try, then.
Harry (From gate looking over shoulder at Bessie). He ain't likely to fly out at me, is he? I would be afraid of laying my hands on him. The chaps are always telling me I don't know my own strength.
Bessie (In front). He's the most harmless creature that ever. ..
Harry. You wouldn't say so if you had seen him walloping me with a hard leather strap. (Walking up garden.) I haven't forgotten it in sixteen long years. (Rat-tat-tat twice.) Hullo, Dad. (Bessie intensely expectant. Rat-tat-tat.) Hullo, Dad—let me in. I am your own Harry. Straight. Your son Harry come back home—a day too soon.
(Window above rumbles up.)