Jones. You mind what you’re sayin’! When I go out I’ll take and chuck it in the water along with that there purse. I ’ad it when I was in liquor, and for what you do when you’re in liquor you’re not responsible—and that’s Gawd’s truth as you ought to know. I don’t want the thing—I won’t have it. I took it out o’ spite. I’m no thief, I tell you; and don’t you call me one, or it’ll be the worse for you.
Mrs Jones. It’s Mr Barthwick’s! You’ve taken away my reputation. Oh, Jem, whatever made you?
Jones. What d’you mean?
Mrs Jones. It’s been missed; they think it’s me. Oh, whatever made you do it, Jem?
Jones. I tell you I was in liquor. I don’t want it; what’s the good of it to me? If I were to pawn it they’d only nab me. I’m no thief. I’m no worse than what young Barthwick is; he brought ’ome that purse I picked up—a lady’s purse—’ad it off ’er in a row, kept sayin’ e’d scored ’er off. Well I scored ’im off. Tight as an owl ’e was! And d’you think anything’ll happen to him?
Mrs Jones. Oh, Jem! It’s the bread out of our mouths.
Jones. Is it, then? I’ll make it hot for ’em yet. What about that purse. What about young Barthwick.
[Mrs Jones comes forward to the table, and tries to take the box; Jones prevents her.]
Jones. What do you want with that. You drop it, I say!
Mrs Jones. I’ll take it back, and tell them all about it. [She attempts to wrest the box from him.]