The Servant in the House Part 20

ROBERT. Never you mind. She's bein' looked arfter.

MARY. By whom?

ROBERT. By people as I've allus 'ated like poison!

MARY. Why, aren't they kind to her?

ROBERT. Yus: they've made 'er summat, as I couldn't 'a' done.

MARY. Then why do you hate them ?

ROBERT. I don't any longer. I 'ates myself, I 'ates the world I live in, I 'ates the bloomin' muck 'ole I've landed into!

MARY. Your wife's dead, you say?

ROBERT. Yus.

MARY. What would she think about it all?

ROBERT [hollowly, without variation]. I don't know: I don't know: I don't know.

[MARY sits down beside him.]

MARY [thoughtfully]. Isn't it strange--both our wishes alike! You want your little girl; and I, my father!

ROBERT. What sort of a . . .

MARY. Yes?

ROBERT. What sort of a bloke might your father be, miss?

MARY. I don't know. I have never seen him.

ROBERT. Got no idea? Never--'eard _tell_ of 'im?

MARY. Never.

ROBERT. 'Aven't thought of 'im yourself, I s'pose? Wasn't particular worth while, eh?

MARY. It's not that. I've been selfish. I never thought anything about him until to-day.

ROBERT. What made you think of 'im--to-day?

MARY. I can't quite say. At least . . .

ROBERT. Mebbe 'e wrote--sent a telingram or summat, eh?--t' say as 'e was comin'?

MARY [quickly]. Oh no: he never writes: we never hear from him.

That's perhaps a bit selfish of him, too, isn't it?

ROBERT [after a moment]. Looks like it, don't it?

MARY. But I don't think he can be really selfish, after all.

ROBERT [with a ray of brightness]. Cos why?

MARY. Because he must be rather like my Uncle William and Uncle Joshua.

[He looks at her curiously.]

ROBERT. Like your . . .

MARY. Yes--they're his brothers, you know.

This is Uncle William's house.

ROBERT. Yes, but what do you know about. . .

MARY. About Uncle Joshua? Well, I happen to know a good deal more than I can say. It's a secret.

ROBERT. S'pose your _Uncle William_ spoke to you about 'im?

MARY. Well, yes. Uncle William spoke about him, too.

ROBERT. But never about your father?

MARY. Oh no, never.

ROBERT. Why, miss?

MARY [slowly]. I--don't--know.

ROBERT. P'r'aps 'e ain't--good enough--to be--to be the brother of your Uncle William--and-- Uncle--Joshua--eh, miss?

MARY. Oh, I can't think that!

ROBERT. Why not, miss? Three good brothers in a family don't scarcely seem possible--not as families go--do they, miss?

MARY. You mustn't talk like that! A father must be much--much better than anybody else!

ROBERT. But s'pose, miss--s'pose 'e ain't . . .

MARY. He is! I know it! Why, that's what I'm wishing! . . .

ROBERT. P'r'aps it ain't altogether 'is fault, miss! . . .

MARY. Oh, don't! Don't. . .