BARBARA Just so. [Very businesslike.] I’ll put you down as [writing] the man who — struck — poor little Jenny Hill — in the mouth.
BILL [rising threateningly] See here. Ive ad enough o this.
BARBARA [quite sunny and fearless] What did you come to us for?
BILL I come for my girl, see? I come to take her out o this and to break er jawr for her.
BARBARA [complacently] You see I was right about your trade. [BILL, on the point of retorting furiously, finds himself, to his great shame and terror, in danger of crying instead. He sits down again suddenly. ] Whats her name?
BILL (dogged] Er name’s Mog Abbijam: thats wot her name is.
BARBARA Oh, she’s gone to Canning Town, to our barracks there.
BILL [fortified by his resentment of MOG’s perfidy] Is she? [Vindictively.) Then I’m goin to Kennintahn arter her. [He crosses to the gate; hesitates; finally comes back at Barbara.] Are you lyin to me to get shut o me?
BARBARA I dont want to get shut of you. I want to keep you here and save your soul. Youd better stay: youre going to have a bad time today, Bill.
BILL Who’s goin to give it to me? You, praps.
BARBARA Someone you dont believe in. But youll be glad afterwards.
BILL [slinking off] I’ll go to Kennintahn to be out o the reach o your tongue. (Suddenly turning on her with intense malice.] And if I dont find Mog there, I’ll come back and do two years for you, selp me Gawd if I don‘t!
BARBARA [a shade kindlier, if possible] It’s no use, Bill. Shes got another bloke.
BILL Wot!
BARBARA One of her own converts. He fell in love with her when he saw her with her soul saved, and her face clean, and her hair washed.
BILL [surprised] Wottud she wash it for, the carroty slut? It’s red.
BARBARA It’s quite lovely now, because she wears a new look in her eyes with it. It’s a pity youre too late. The new bloke has put your nose out of joint, Bill.
BILL I’ll put his nose out o joint for him. Not that I care a curse for her, mind that. But I’ll teach her to drop me as if I was dirt. And I’ll teach him to meddle with my judy. Wots iz bleedin name?
BARBARA Sergeant Todger Fairmile.
SHIRLEY [rising with grim joy] I’ll go with him, miss. I want to see them two meet. I’ll take him to the infirmary when it’s over.
BILL [to SHIRLEY, with undissembled misgiving] Is that im you was speakin on?
SHIRLEY Thats him.
BILL Im that wrastled in the music all?
SHIRLEY The competitions at the National Sportin Club was worth nigh a hundred a year to him. Hes gev em up now for religion; so hes a bit fresh for want of the exercise he was accustomed to. Hell be glad to see you. Come along.
BILL Wots is weight?
SHIRLEY Thirteen four. [BILL’s last hope expires.]
BARBARA Go and talk to him, Bill. He’ll convert you.
SHIRLEY He’ll convert your head into a mashed potato.
BILL [sullenly] I aint afraid of him. I aint afraid of ennybody. But he can lick me. Shes done me. [He sits down moodily on the edge of the horse trough.]
SHIRLEY You aint goin. I thought not. [He resumes his seat.]
BARBARA (calling] Jenny!
JENNY [appearing at the shelter door with a plaster on the corner of her mouth] Yes, Major.
BARBARA Send Rummy Mitchens out to clear away here.
JENNY I think shes afraid .
BARBARA [her resemblance to her mother flashing out for a moment] Nonsense! she must do as shes told.
JENNY (calling into the shelter] Rummy: the Major says you must come.
JENNY comes to BARBARA, purposely keeping on the side next BILL, lest he should suppose that she shrank from him or bore malice.
BARBARA Poor little Jenny! Are you tired? [Looking at the wounded cheek.] Does it hurt?
JENNY No: it’s all right now. It was nothing.
BARBARA [critically] It was as hard as he could hit, I expect. Poor Bill! You dont feel angry with him, do you?
JENNY Oh no, no, no: indeed I dont, Major, bless his poor heart! (BARBARA kisses her; and she runs away merrily into the shelter. Bill writhes with an agonizing return of his new and alarming symptoms, but says nothing. RUMMY MITCHENS comes from the shelter. ]
BARBARA [going to meet RUMMY] Now Rummy, bustle. Take in those mugs and plates to be washed; and throw the crumbs about for the birds.
RUMMY takes the three plates and mugs; but SHIRLEY takes back his mug from her, as there is still some milk left in it.
RUMMY There aint any crumbs. This aint a time to waste good bread on birds.
PRICE [appearing at the shelter door] Gentleman come to see the shelter, Major. Says hes your father.
BARBARA All right. Coming. [SNOBBY goes back into the shelter, followed by BARBARA.]
RUMMY [stealing across to BILL and addressing him in a subdued voice, but with intense conviction] I’d av the lor of you, you flat eared pignosed potwalloper,[55] if she’d let me.Youre no gentleman, to hit a lady in the face. [BILL, with greater things moving in him, takes no notice.]
SHIRLEY [following her] Here! in with you and dont get yourself into more trouble by talking.
RUMMY [with hauteur] I aint ad the pleasure o being hintro duced to you, as I can remember. [She goes into the shelter with the plates. ]
SHIRLEY Thats the —
BILL [savagely] Dont you talk to me, d‘ye hear. You lea me alone, or I’ll do you a mischief. I’m not dirt under your feet, anyway.
SHIRLEY [calmly] Dont you be afeerd. You aint such prime company that you need expect to be sought after. [He is about to go into the shelter when BARBARA comes out, with UNDERSHAFT on her right.]
BARBARA Oh there you are, Mr. Shirley! [Between them.] This is my father: I told you he was a Secularist, didnt I? Perhaps youll be able to comfort one another.
UNDERSHAFT [startled] A Secularist! Not the least in the world: on the contrary, a confirmed mystic.
BARBARA Sorry, I’m sure. By the way, papa, what i s your religion — in case I have to introduce you again?
UNDERSHAFT My religion? Well, my dear, I am a Millionaire. That is my religion.
BARBARA Then I’m afraid you and Mr. Shirley wont be able to comfort one another after all. Youre not a Millionaire, are you, Peter?
SHIRLEY No; and proud of it.
UNDERSHAFT [gravely] Poverty, my friend, is not a thing to be proud of.
SHIRLEY [angrily] Who made your millions for you? Me and my like. Whats kep us poor? Keepin you rich. I wouldnt have your conscience, not for all your income.
UNDERSHAFT I wouldnt have your income, not for all your conscience, Mr. Shirley. [He goes to the penthouse and sits down on a form. ]
BARBARA [stopping SHIRLEY adroitly as he is about to retort] You wouldnt think he was my father, would you, Peter? Will you go into the shelter and lend the lasses a hand for a while: we’re worked off our feet.