Stephen Archer, and Other Tales Part 39

_Mrs. C._ Rude! Vulgar--quite vulgar! Insulting!

_Mat_. I am very sorry. But, believe me, ma'am, she is an honest girl, and never p.a.w.ned that work. It was done--every st.i.tch of it; and the loss of the money is hard upon us too. Indeed, ma'am, she did lose the parcel.

_Mrs. C._ You have only her word for it. If you don't give _her_ up, I give _you_ up.

_Mat_. I can't, ma'am. She might go into bad ways if I did.

_Mrs. C._ She can't well get into worse. Her language! You would do ever so much better without her.

_Mat_. I daren't, ma'am. I should never get it off my conscience.

_Mrs. C._ Your conscience indeed! (_rising_). I wish you a good morning, Miss Pearson.--(_Sound of a blow, followed by scuffling_.)--What is that? I fear I have got into an improper place.

SUSAN _bursts in_.

_Sus_. Yes, ma'am, and that you have! It's a _wery_ improper place for the likes o' you, ma'am--as believes all sorts o' wicked things of people as is poor. Who are you to bring your low flunkies a-listenin'

at honest girls' doors! (_Turning to James in the doorway_.) Get out, will you? Let me catch you here again, and I'll mark you that the devil wouldn't know his own! You dirty Paul Pry--you! (_Falls on her knees to Mattie_.) Mattie, you angel!

_Mat_. (_trying to make her get up_) Never mind. It's all right between you and me, Susan.

_Mrs. C._ I see! I thought as much!

_Sus_. (_starting up_) As much as what, then, my lady? Oh, _I_ know you and your sort--well enough! We're the dirt under your feet--lucky if we stick to your shoes! But this room's mine.

_Mrs. C._ That linen was mine, young woman, I believe.

_Sus_. An' it's for that miserable parcel you come a-talkin', an'

abusin' as no lady ought to! How dare you look that angel in the face there an' say she stole it--which you're not fit to lace her boots for her! There!

_Mat_. Susan! Susan! do be quiet.

_Sus_. It's all very well for the likes o' me (_courtesying spitefully_)--which I'm no better'n I should be, and a great deal worse, if I'm on my oath to your ladyship--that's neither here nor there!--but _she's_ better'n a van-load o' sich ladies as you, pryin' into other people's houses, with yer bibles, an' yer religion, an' yer flunkies!

_I_ know ye! I _do_!

_Mat_. Don't, Susan.

_Sus_. Why don't ye go an' pay twopence a week to somebody to learn ye good manners? I been better brought up myself.

_Mrs. C._ I see I was wrong: I ought at once to have handed the matter over to the police.

_Sus_. The perlice, indeed!--You get out of this, ma'am, or I'll make you!--you and your cowardly man-pup there, as is afraid to look me in the face through the crack o' the door! Get out, I say, with your--_insolence_--that's your word!

_Exit_ MRS. CLIFFORD.

_Mat_. Susan! Susan! what is to become of us?

_Sus_. She daren't do it--the old scrooge! But just let her try it on!

See if I don't show her up afore the magistrate! Mattie! I'll work my fingers to the bone for you. I would do worse, only you won't let me.

I'll go to the court, and tell the magistrate you're a-dyin' of hunger, which it's as true as gospel.

_Mat_. They'd send me to the workhouse, Sukey.

_Sus_. There _must_ be some good people somewheres, Mattie.

_Mat_. Yes; if we could get at them. But we can live till we die, Sukey.

_Sus_. I'll go and list for a soldier, I will. Women ha' done it afore.

It's quite respectable, so long as they don't find you out--and they shouldn't me. There's ne'er a one o' the redcoats 'ill cut up rougher 'n I shall--barrin' the beard, and _that_ don't go for much now-a-days.

_Mat_. And what should I do without you, Susan?

_Sus_. Do you care to have me, then?

_Mat_. That I do, indeed. But you shouldn't have talked like that to Mrs. Clifford. Ladies ain't used to such words. They sound worse than they are--quite dreadful, to them. She don't know your kind heart as I do. Besides, the _look_ of things is against us. Ain't it now? Say yourself.

_Sus_. (_starting up_) I'll go and beg her pardon. I'll go direckly--I will. I swear I will. I can't abear her, but I'll do it. I believe hunger has nigh drove me mad.

_Mat_. It takes all the madness out of me.--No, Susan; we must bear it now. Come along. We can be miserable just as well working. There's your sleeve. I'll thread your needle for you. Don't cry--there's a dear!

_Sus_. I _will_ cry. It's all I ever could do to my own mind, and it's all as is left me. But if I could get my claws on that lovyer o' yours, I wouldn't cry then. He's at the bottom of it! I don't see myself what's the use of fallin' in love. One man's as much of a fool as another to me. But you must go to bed. You ain't fit. You'll be easier when you've got your frock off. There! Why, child, you're all of a tremble!--And no wonder, wi' nothing on her blessed body but her frock and her shimmy!

_Mat_. Don't take off my frock, Sue. I must get on with my work.

_Sus_. Lie down a bit, anyhow. I'll lie at your back, and you'll soon be as warm's a toast. (MAT. _lies down_.) O Lord! she's dead! Her heart's stopped beatin'. (_Runs out of the room_.)

_A moment of silence. A tap at the door_.

CONSTANCE _peeps in, then enters, with a basket_.

_Con_. Miss Pearson!--She's asleep. (_Goes near_.) Good heavens!

(_Lays her hand on her_.) No. (_Takes a bottle from her basket, finds a cup, and pours into it_.) Take this, Miss Pearson; it will do you good. There now! You'll find something else in the basket.

_Mat_. I don't want anything. I had so nearly got away! Why did you bring me back?

_Con_. Life is good!

_Mat_. It is _not_ good. How dare you do it? Why keep a miserable creature alive? Life ain't to us what it is to you. The grave is the only place _we_ have any right to.

_Con_. If I could make your life worth something to you--

_Mat_. You make my life worth to me! You don't know what you're saying, miss. (_Sitting up_.)

_Con_. I think I do.

_Mat_. I will _not_ owe my life to you. I _could_ love you, though--your hands are so white, and your look so brave. That's what comes of being born a lady. We never have a chance.

_Con_. Miss Pearson--Mattie, I would call you, if you wouldn't be offended--