Capt. H. (Seen leaning out, aiming with spade). Aha! Bessie (Warningly). Look out, Harry! (Spade falls.) Are you hurt? (Window rumbles down.) Harry (In the distance). Only grazed my hat.
Bessie. Thank God! (Intensely.) What'll he do now?
Harry (Comes forward, slamming gate behind him). Just like old times. Nearly licked the life out of me for wanting to go away, and now I come back he shies a confounded old shovel at my head. (Fumes. Laughs a little). I wouldn't care, only poor little Ginger—Ginger's my chum up in London—he will starve while I walk back all the way from here. (Faces Bessie blankly.) I spent my last twopence on a shave. ... Out of respect for the old man.
Bessie. I think, if you let me, I could manage to talk him round in a week, maybe.
(A muffled periodical bellowing had been heard faintly for some time.)
Harry (On the alert). What's this? Who's making this row? Hark! Bessie, Bessie. It's in your house, I believe.
Bessie (Without stirring, drearily). It's for me.
Harry (Discreetly, whispering). Good voice for a ship's deck in a squall. Your husband? (Steps out of lamplight.)
Bessie. No. My father. He's blind. (Pause). I'm not married.
(Bellowings grow louder.)