The Atlantic Book of Modern Plays Part 52

(_Exit_ SAM _left centre._ MRS. ORMEROD _comes from the inside door.

She has a small blue teapot in her hand._)

SARAH. Was anybody 'ere, Emma? A thowt A yeard someun talkin', only my yearin' isn't what it used to be, an' A warn't sure.

EMMA. It were Sam Horrocks, Mrs. Ormerod.

SARAH. Yon lad of ould Sal Horrocks as died last year? 'Im as isn't reeght in 'is yead?

EMMA. Aye. 'E's bin askin' me to wed 'im.

SARAH (_incensed_). In my 'ouse? Theer's imperence for thee, an'

tha promised to another lad, an' all. A'd 'ave set about 'im wi'

a stick, Emma.

EMMA. 'E didn't knaw about Joe. It made me feel cruel like to 'ave to tell 'im.

SARAH. 'E'll get ower it. Soom la.s.s 'll tak' 'im.

EMMA. A suppose so.

SARAH (_coming down, putting the teapot in EMMA'S hands_). Well, theer's teapot.

EMMA (_meets SARAH right centre, examining teapot_). It's beautiful. Beautiful, it is, Mrs. Ormerod.

SARAH. Aye, it's a bit o' real china is that. Tha'll tak' care on't, la.s.s, won't thee?

EMMA. A will an' all.

SARAH. Aye. A knaw it's safe wi' thee. Mebbe safer than it would be in workus. A can't think well on yon plaice. A goa cold all ower at thowt of it.

(_A knock at the door._)

EMMA. That'll be Parson.

SARAH (_crosses left, smoothing her hair_). Goa an' look through window first, an' see who 't is.

EMMA (_puts teapot on table; looking through window_). It is not th' ould Parson. It's one o' them young curate chaps.

SARAH. Well, coom away from window an' sit thee down. It won't do to seem too eager. Let un knock again if it's not th' ould Parson.

(EMMA _leaves the window and goes to right of table. The knock is repeated._)

SARAH (_raising her voice_). Coom in so who tha art. Door's on latch.

(_Enter the_ REV. FRANK ALLEYNE. _He is a young curate, a Londoner and an Oxford man, by a.s.sociation, training, and taste totally unfitted for a Lancashire curacy, in which he is, unfortunately, no exception._)

ALLEYNE. Good afternoon, Mrs. Ormerod.

SARAH. Good day to thee.

ALLEYNE. I'm sorry to say Mr. Blundell has had to go to a missionary meeting, but he asked me to come and see you in his stead.

SARAH. Tha's welcoom, lad. Sit thee doon.

(EMMA _comes below table left. Dusts a chair, which doesn't need it, with her ap.r.o.n._ ALLEYNE _raises a deprecatory hand._ SARAH'S _familiarity, as it seems to him, offends him. He looks sourly at_ EMMA _and markedly ignores her._)

ALLEYNE. Thank you; no, I won't sit; I cannot stay long.

SARAH. Just as tha likes. It's all same to me.

(EMMA _stays by right of table._)

ALLEYNE. How is it with you, Mrs. Ormerod?

SARAH. It might be worse. A've lost th' use o' my 'ands, and they're takin' me to workus, but A'm not dead yet, and that's summat to be thankul for.

ALLEYNE. Oh, yes, yes, Mrs. Ormerod. The--er--message I am to deliver is, I fear, not quite what Mr. Blundell led you to hope for. His efforts on your behalf have--er--- unfortunately failed.

He finds himself obliged to give up all hope of aiding you to a livelihood. In fact--er--I understand that the arrangements made for your removal to the workhouse this afternoon must be carried out. It seems there is no alternative. I am grieved to be the bearer of bad tidings, but I am sure you will find a comfortable home awaiting you, Mrs.--er--Ormerod.

SARAH. 'Appen A shall an' 'appen A shan't. Theer's no tellin' 'ow you'll favor a thing till you've tried it.

ALLEYNE. You must resign yourself to the will of Providence. The consolations of religion are always with us. Shall I pray with you?

SARAH. A never were much at prayin' when A were well off, an' A doubt the Lord ud tak' it kind o' selfish o' me if A coom cryin'

to 'im now A'm 'urt.

ALLEYNE. He will understand. Can I do nothing for you?

SARAH. A dunno as tha can, thankin' thee all same.

ALLEYNE. I am privileged with Mr. Blundell's permission to bring a little gift to you, Mrs. Ormerod. (_Feeling in his coattails and bringing out a Testament._) Allow me to present you with this Testament, and may it help you to bear your Cross with resignation.

(_He hands her the Testament._ SARAH _does not raise her hands, and it drops on her lap._ ALLEYNE _takes it again and puts it on the table._) Ah, yes, of course--your poor hands--I understand.

SARAH. Thankee kindly. Readin' don't coom easy to me, an' my eyes aren't what they were, but A'll mak' most of it.

ALLEYNE. You will never read that in vain. And now, dear sister, I must go. I will pray for strength for you. All will be well.

Good day.

SARAH. Good day to thee.

(_Exit_ ALLEYNE.)

EMMA. Tha doesn't look so pleased wi' tha gift, Mrs. Ormerod.

SARAH. It's not square thing of th' ould Parson, Emma. 'E should 'a' coom an' tould me 'isself. Looks like 'e were feart to do it.

A never could abide them curate lads. We doan't want no grand Lunnon gentlemen down 'ere. 'E doan't understand us no more than we understand 'im. 'E means all reeght, poor lad. Sithee, Emma, A've bin a church-goin' woman all my days. A was browt oop to church, an' many's th' bit o' bra.s.s they've 'ad out o' me in my time. An' in th' end they send me a fine curate with a tuppenny Testament. That's all th' good yo' get out o' they folks.

EMMA. We'm chapel to our 'ouse, an' 'e didn't forget to let me see 'e knaw'd it, but A doan't say as it's ony different wi'

chapels, neither. They get what they can outer yo', but yo'