TABLEAU III.
Mother Clarke’s
SCENE I
The Stage represents a room of coarse and sordid appearance: settles, spittoons, etc.; sanded floor. A large table at back, where Ainslie, Hamilton, and others are playing cards and quarrelling. In front, L. and R. smaller tables, at one of which are Brodie and Moore, drinking. Mrs. Clarke and women serving.
Moore. You’ve got the devil’s own luck, Deacon, that’s what you’ve got.
Brodie. Luck! Don’t talk of luck to a man like me! Why not say I’ve the devil’s own judgment? Men of my stamp don’t risk—they plan, Badger; they plan, and leave chance to such cattle as you [and Jingling Geordie. They make opportunities before they take them].
Moore. You’re artful, ain’t you?
Brodie. Should I be here else? When I leave my house I leave an alibi behind me. I’m ill—ill with a jumping headache, and the fiend’s own temper. I’m sick in bed this minute, and they’re all going about with the fear of death on them lest they should disturb the poor sick Deacon. [My bedroom door is barred and bolted like the bank—you remember!—and all the while the window’s open, and the Deacon’s over the hills and far away. What do you think of me?]
Moore. I’ve seen your sort before, I have.
Brodie. Not you. As for Leslie’s—
Moore. That was a nick above you.