Stephen Archer, and Other Tales Part 30

_Bill_. Round _any_ corner. Second door's all-ways Sunday-school.

(_Takes a sight. Exeunt boys_.)

THOMAS _sits down on a door-step_.

_Tho._ Eh, but aw be main weary! Surely th' Lord dunnot be a forsakin'

ov mo. There's that abeawt th' lost ship. Oop yon, wheer th' angels keep greight flocks ov 'em, they dunnot like to lose one ov 'em, an'

they met well be helpin' ov mo to look for mo lost lamb i' this awful plaze! What has th' shepherd o' th' sheep himsel' to do, G.o.d bless him! but go look for th' lost ones and carry 'em whoam! O Lord! gie mo mo Mattie. Aw'm a silly ship mosel, a sarchin' for mo lost lamb.

(_Boys begin to gather and stare_.) She's o' the world to me. O Lord, hear mo, and gie mo mo Mattie. Nea, aw'll geet oop, and go look again.

(_Rises_.)

_First Boy_. Ain't he a cricket, Tommy?

_Second Boy_. Spry, ain't he? Prod him, and see him jump. (_General insult_.)

_Tho._ Why, childer, what have aw done, that yo cry after mo like a thief?

_First Boy_. Daddy Longlegs! Daddy Longlegs!

_They hustle and crowd him. Re-enter_ BILL. THOMAS _makes a rush.

They run. He seizes_ BILL. _They gather again_.

_Tho._ Han yo getten a mother, lad?

_Bill_. No, thank ye. 'Ain't got no mother. Come of a haunt, I do.

_First Boy_. Game!--ain't he?

_Tho._ Well, aw'll tak yo whoam to yor aunt--aw wull.

_Bill_. Will you now, old chap? Wery well. (_Squats_.)

_Tho._ (_holding him up by the collar, and shaking his stick over him_). Tell mo wheer's por aunt, or aw'll breyk every bone i' yor body.

_Bill_ (_wriggling and howling and rubbing his eyes with alternate sleeves_). Let me go, I say. Let me go and I'll tell ye. I will indeed, sir.

_Tho._ (_letting go_) Wheer then, mo lad?

_Bill_ (_starting up_). I' the church-cellar, sir--first bin over the left--feeds musty, and smells strong. Ho! ho! ho! (_Takes a sight_.)

THOMAS _makes a dart_. BILL _dodges him_.

_First Boy_. Ain't he a cricket _now_, Tommy?

_Second Boy_. Got one leg too many for a cricket, Sam.

_Third Boy_. That's what he jerks hisself with, Tommy.

_Tho._ Boys, I want to be freens wi' yo. Here's a penny.

_One of the boys knocks it out of his hand. A scramble_.

_Tho._ Now, boys, dun yo know wheer's a young woman bi th' name ov Mattie--somewheer abeawt Paradise Row?

_First Boy_. Yes, old un.

_Second Boy_. Lots on 'em.

_Third Boy_. Which on em' do you want, Mr. Cricket?

_Fourth Boy_. You ain't peticlar, I s'pose, old corner-bones?

_First Boy_. Don't you fret, old stilts. We'll find you a Mattie.

There's plenty on 'em--all nice gals.

_Tho._ I want mo own Mattie.

_First Boy_. Why, you'd never tell one from t'other on 'em!

_Third Boy_. All on 'em wery glad to see old Daddy Longlegs!

_Tho._ Oh dear! Oh dear! What an awful plaze this Lon'on do be! To see the childer so bad!

_Second Boy_. Don't cry, gran'pa. _She'_d chaff you worser 'n us!

We're only poor little innocent boys. We don't know nothink, bless you! Oh no!

_First Boy_. You'd better let her alone, arter all, bag o' nails.

_Second Boy_. She'll have it out on you now, for woppin' of her when she wor a kid.

_First Boy_. She's a wopper herself now.

_Third Boy_. Mighty fine, with your shirt for a great-coat. He! he!

he!

_Fourth Boy_. Mattie never kicks us poor innocent boys--cos we 'ain't got no mothers to take our parts. Boo hoo!

_Enter_ JACK--_his hands in his pockets_.

_Jack_. What's the row, Bill?

_Bill_. Dunnow, Jack. Old chap collared me when I wasn't alludin' to him. He's after some Mattie or other. It can't be our Mattie. _She_ wouldn't never have such a blazin' old parient as that.

_Jack_. Supposin' it was your Mattie, Bill, would you split, and let Scull-and-cross-bones nab her?

_Bill_. Would I? Would I 'and over our Mattie to her natural enemy?

Did you ax it, Jack?

_Jack_. Natural enemy! My eye, Bill! what words you fakes!