Mee. De name?
Yung. Yes, the name. What the soap was didn’t matter so long as it had a good name. That’s real art, Mee-Mee: and that’s what being a grocer means.... That’s what I was once!
Mee. You? Oh, poo’ man, to lose all dat!
Yung. Yes, I’d got my full grocer’s certificate: I’d taken five years to earn it, and I was so proud of it! I used to wear it round my neck so that every one could see.... It had white letters on a red ground—and it said ... [he breaks down]. And all because of you and your Star, they’ve gone and taken it off me!... I tell you they’d given up trying to turn me into an artist: they’d found it was no good. And then you came, you, you, you superfluous little pig!—and now I’ve got to wait till your beastly Star comes round again—three years,—and then I’ve got to marry you and become a fool of a painter, when I might have been a grocer if you’d only stayed away!
Mee. Oh! me velly, velly solly! Me ’bominably not wanted, eh?
Yung. My father doesn’t understand me, Mee-Mee.... No one understands me.... You don’t understand me, either.
Mee. Me t’ink—yes! Have a sweet?
[Offers box.
Yung. Thank you, Mee-Mee.... I think you do understand me a little. [He begins chobbling.] When I was a grocer I used to have more sweets than I could eat: but now [chobbles] I never get enough!... I don’t hate you now as much as I did, Mee-Mee.... Have one?
Mee. Oh, t’ank, t’ank, no!... Shabby Humbleness never dare!