Touch and Go Part 19

BREFFITT. It's trouble for nothing--it's trouble that could be avoided.

The clerks could have their advance, and it would hurt n.o.body.

GERALD. Too late now.--I suppose if the men come out, the clerks will come out with them?

BREFFITT. They'll have to--they'll have to.

GERALD. If they do, we may then make certain alterations in the office staff which have needed making for some time.

BREFFITT. Very good--very good. I know what you mean.--I don't know how your father bears all this, Mr. Gerald.

GERALD. We keep it from him as much as possible.--You'll let the clerks know the decision. And if they stay out with the men, I'll go over the list of the staff with you. It has needed revising for a long time.

BREFFITT. I know what you mean--I know what you mean--I believe I understand the firm's interest in my department. I ought, after forty years studying it. I've studied the firm's interest for forty years, Mr.

Gerald. I'm not likely to forget them now.

GERALD. Of course.

BREFFITT. But I think it's a mistake--I think it's a mistake, and I'm bound to say it, to let a great deal of trouble rise for a very small cause. The clerks might have had what they reasonably asked her.

GERALD. Well, it's too late now.

BREFFITT. I suppose it is--I suppose it is. I hope you'll remember, sir, that I've put the interest of the firm before everything--before every consideration.

GERALD. Of course, Breffitt.

BREFFITT. But you've not had any liking for the office staff, I'm afraid, sir--not since your father put you amongst us for a few months.--Well, sir, we shall weather this gale, I hope, as we've weathered those in the past. Times don't become better, do they? Men are an ungrateful lot, and these agitators should be lynched. They would, if I had my way.

GERALD. Yes, of course. Don't wait.

BREFFITT. Good night to you. (Exit.)

GERALD. Good night.

ANABEL. He's the last, apparently.

GERALD. We'll hope so.

ANABEL. He puts you in a fury.

GERALD. It's his manner. My father spoilt them--abominable old limpets.

And they're so self-righteous. They think I'm a sort of criminal who has instigated this new devilish system which runs everything so close and cuts it so fine--as if they hadn't made this inevitable by their shameless carelessness and wastefulness in the past. He may well boast of his forty years--forty years' cra.s.s, stupid wastefulness.

(Two or three more clerks pa.s.s, talking till they approach the seat, then becoming silent after bidding good night.)

ANABEL. But aren't you a bit sorry for them?

GERALD. Why? If they're poor, what does it matter in a world of chaos?

ANABEL. And aren't you an obstinate a.s.s not to give them the bit they want. It's mere stupid obstinacy.

GERALD. It may be. I call it policy.

ANABEL. Men always do call their obstinacy policy.

GERALD. Well, I don't care what happens. I wish things would come to a head. I only fear they won't.

ANABEL. Aren't you rather wicked?--ASKING for strife?

GERALD. I hope I am. It's quite a relief to me to feel that I may be wicked. I fear I'm not. I can see them all antic.i.p.ating victory, in their low-down fashion wanting to crow their low-down crowings. I'm afraid I feel it's a righteous cause, to cut a lot of little combs before I die.

ANABEL. But if they're right in what they want?

GERALD. In the right--in the right!--They're just greedy, incompetent, stupid, gloating in a sense of the worst sort of power. They're like vicious children, who would like to kill their parents so that they could have the run of the larder. The rest is just cant.

ANABEL. If you're the parent in the case, I must say you flow over with loving-kindness for them.

GERALD. I don't--I detest them. I only hope they will fight. If they would, I'd have some respect for them. But you'll see what it will be.

ANABEL. I wish I needn't, for it's very sickening.

GERALD. Sickening beyond expression.

ANABEL. I wish we could go right away.

GERALD. So do I--If one could get oneself out of this. But one can't. It's the same wherever you have industrialism--and you have industrialism everywhere, whether it's in Timbuctoo or Paraguay or Antananarivo.

ANABEL. No, it isn't: you exaggerate.

JOB ARTHUR (suddenly approaching from the other side). Good evening, Mr.

Barlow. I heard you were in here. Could I have a word with you?

GERALD. Get on with it, then.

JOB ARTHUR. Is it right that you won't meet the clerks?

GERALD. Yes.

JOB ARTHUR. Not in any way?

GERALD. Not in any way whatsoever.

JOB ARTHUR. But--I thought I understood from you the other night---

GERALD. It's all the same what you understood.

JOB ARTHUR. Then you take it back, sir?