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Plays of William E. Henley and R.L. Stevenson Part 17

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MARY. Walter!

LAWSON. Ay, bairns, ye speak for your age.

LESLIE. Surely, sir, for every age; the ties of blood, of love, of friendship, these are life's essence.

MARY. And for no one is it truer than my uncle. If he live to be a thousand, he will still be young in heart, full of love, full of trust.

LAWSON. All, la.s.sie, it's a wicked world.



MARY. Yes, you are out of sorts to-day; we know that.

LESLIE. Admitted that you know more of life, sir; admitted (if you please) that the world is wicked; yet you do not lose trust in those you love.

LAWSON. Weel . . . ye get gliffs, ye ken.

LESLIE. I suppose so. We can all be shaken for a time; but not, I think, in our friends. We are not deceived in them; in the few that we admit into our hearts.

MARY. Never in these.

LESLIE. We know these (_to_ BRODIE), and we think the world of them.

BRODIE (_at back_). We are more acquainted with each other's tailors, believe me. You, Leslie, are a very pleasant creature. My uncle Lawson is the Procurator-Fiscal. I-What am I?-I am the Deacon of the Wrights, my ruffles are generally clean. And you think the world of me? Bravo!

LESLIE. Ay, and I think the world of you.

BRODIE (_at back_, _pointing to_ LAWSON). Ask him.

LAWSON. Hoot-toot. A wheen nonsense: an honest man's an honest man, and a randy thief's a randy thief, and neither mair nor less. Mary, my lamb, it's time you were hame, and had you beauty sleep.

MARY. Do you not come with us?

LAWSON. I gang the ither gate, my lamb. (LESLIE _helps_ MARY _on with her cloak_, _and they say farewell at back_. BRODIE _for the first time comes front with_ LAWSON.) Sae ye've consented?

BRODIE. As you see.

LAWSON. Ye'll can pay it back?

BRODIE. I will.

LAWSON. And how? That's what I'm wonderin' to mysel'.

BRODIE. Ay, G.o.d knows that.

MARY. Come, Will.

SCENE II

LESLIE, LAWSON (_wrapping up_)

LESLIE. I wonder what ails Brodie?

LAWSON. How should I ken? What should I ken that ails him?

LESLIE. He seemed angry even with you.

LAWSON (_impatient_). Hoot awa'.

LESLIE. Of course, I know. But you see, on the very day when our engagement is announced, even the best of men may be susceptible. You yourself seem not quite pleased.

LAWSON (_with great irritation_). I'm perfectly pleased. I'm perfectly delighted. If I werena an auld man, I'd be just beside mysel' wi'

happiness.

LESLIE. Well, I only fancied.

LAWSON. Ye had nae possible excuse to fancy. Fancy? Perfect trash and nonsense. Look at yersel'. Ye look like a ghaist, ye're white-like, ye're black aboot the een; and do ye find me deavin' ye wi' fancies? Or William Brodie either? I'll say that for him.

LESLIE. 'Tis not sorrow that alters my complexion; I've something else on hand. Come, I'll tell you, under seal. I've not been in bed till daylight for a week.

LAWSON. Weel, there's nae sense in the like o' that.

LESLIE. Gad, but there is though. Why, Procurator, this is town's business; this is a munic.i.p.al affair; I'm a public character. Why? Ah, here's a nut for the Crown Prosecutor! I'm a bit of a party to a robbery.

LAWSON. Guid guide us, man, what d'ye mean?

LESLIE. You shall hear. A week ago to-night, I was pa.s.sing through this very room without a candle on my way to bed, when . . . what should I see, but a masked man fumbling at that window! How he did the Lord knows. I suspect, Procurator, it was not the first he'd tried . . . for he opened it as handily as his own front door.

LAWSON. Preserve me! Another of thae robberies!

LESLIE. That's it. And, of course, I tried to seize him. But the rascal was too quick. He was down and away in an instant. You never saw a thing so daring and adroit.

LAWSON. Is that a'? Ye're a bauld lad, I'll say that for ye. I'm glad it wasna waur.

LESLIE. Yes, that's all plain sailing. But here's the hitch. Why didn't I tell the Procurator-Fiscal? You never thought of that.

LAWSON. No, man. Why?

LESLIE. Aha! There's the riddle. Will you guess? No? . . . I thought I knew the man.

LAWSON. What d'ye say?

LESLIE. I thought I knew him.

LAWSON. Wha was't?

LESLIE. Ah, there you go beyond me. That I cannot tell.

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Plays of William E. Henley and R.L. Stevenson Part 17 summary

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