Harry. Oh, I say. What's up? Who's murdering him?
Bessie (Calmly). I expect he's finished his tea. (Bellowing continues regularly.)
Harry. Hadn't you better see to it? You'll have the whole town coming out here presently. (Bessie moves off.) I say! (Bessie stops.) Couldn't you scare up some bread and butter for me from that tea? I'm hungry. Had no breakfast.
Bessie (Starts off at the word "hungry," dropping to the ground the white woollen shawl). I won't be a minute. Don't go away.
Harry (Alone; picks up shawl absently, and, looking at it spread out in his hands, pronounces slowly). A—dam'—silly—scrape. (Pause. Throws shawl on arm. Strolls up and down. Mutters.) No money to get back. (Louder.) Silly little Ginger'll think I've got hold of the pieces and given an old shipmate the go by. One good shove—(Makes motion of bursting in door with his shoulders)—would burst that door in—I bet. (Looks about.) I wonder where the nearest bobby is! No. They would want to bundle me neck and crop into chokey. (Shudders.) Perhaps. It makes me dog sick to think of being locked up. Haven't got the nerve. Not for prison. (Leans against lamp-post.) And not a cent for my fare. I wonder if that girl now...
Bessie (Coming hastily forward, plate with bread and meat in hand). I didn't take time to get anything else....
Harry (Begins to eat). You're not standing treat to a beggar. My dad is a rich man—you know.
Bessie (Plate in hand). You resemble your father.
Harry. I was the very image of him in face from a boy—(Eats)—and that's about as far as it goes. He was always one of your domestic characters. He looked sick when he had to go to sea for a fortnight's trip. (Laughs.) He was all for house and home.
Bessie. And you? Have you never wished for a home? (Goes off with empty plate and puts it down hastily on Carvil's bench—out of sight.)