Part 4

MINNIE. Poor Horace, I am sorry for him! What will he do?

HORACE. There’s Minnie! She’s true—she’s true, after all!

AUNT. What will he do? Well, I suppose he will have to work, like anyone else.

MINNIE. But he can’t, poor boy, he doesn’t know anything.

HORACE. Doesn’t know anything? What does she mean?

MRS. CLARENCE. There are plenty of fools who manage to earn their own living. A little adversity will be the making of him. It’s a terrible blow, all the same, and you are brave to face it as you are doing.

HORACE. Damn it! it’s my trouble she is facing, not hers. Brave?

MINNIE. You’ll find something for Horace, won’t you, dear?

DICEY. Well, I don’t know. Mr. Horace Parker has not made himself particularly pleasant to me.

HORACE. A good job, too.

MINNIE. Oh, Arthur, for my sake! Please!

DICEY. That’s enough. Your slightest wish is law to me. I’ll get him a berth with some friends of mine in the city. They’ll take him on as clerk to oblige me—but he’ll have to learn typewriting.

HORACE. No! I’m damned if I do!

(_Lights out in interior._)

HORACE. You’d do credit to the Spanish Inquisition! Haven’t you done with me?

MESSENGER. It is only your pride that is hurt. Your heart is still as hard as ever.

HORACE. Well, I am not beaten yet, if that is what you mean. I may be ruined financially, but I’ve got pages and pages of notes at home which I have taken during the last twelve months.

MESSENGER. About what?

HORACE. About the planets. And Mars in particular. And with the information you have been kind enough to give me to-night, I’ll write a book that will fairly make them sit up. Of course, nobody will believe it. But they will buy the book. I’ll sell my house and publish it myself. You can’t down an Englishman in one round, Marsy, my lad!

(_Fire engine heard passing along off L._)

MESSENGER. What’s that?

HORACE. Fire somewhere.

MESSENGER. Fire? Perhaps you could be of help there.

HORACE. How absurd you are! The firemen will attend to it. That’s what they are paid for. You can’t expect me to bother about it. It is not my business.

MESSENGER. In Mars we do not mind our own business.

HORACE. I can quite believe it.

(_Another fire engine._)

MESSENGER. It must be something serious. There’s another engine, is it not? Won’t you go?

HORACE. We shall see all about it in the papers to-morrow. I tell you I should only be in the way. Now, please may I go home?

MESSENGER. Not yet.

(_Lights up within the house, and discovered are MRS. CLARENCE and SIR EDWARD VIVIAN._)

MESSENGER. Who is that with your friend Mrs. Clarence?

HORACE. He at the dance? Why, that is Sir Edward Vivian, the great astronomer.

MESSENGER. You know him?

HORACE. I know of him, and he knows me. He has a very high opinion of me. He told a friend of mine last year that I was the coming man.

MESSENGER. Most interesting. Listen!

SIR EDWARD. Parker? Horace Parker? Oh, yes, a very wealthy man, I think.

MRS. CLARENCE. He was, but I hear he has lost everything in this bank smash.

SIR EDWARD. Indeed! I am very sorry to hear it. He was a useful subscriber. Very sad! Dear, dear!

HORACE. That is a tribute from him.

MRS. CLARENCE. I suppose he will be able to turn his scientific abilities to use and make a living that way?

SIR EDWARD. I’m afraid not.

MRS. CLARENCE. Why not?

SIR EDWARD. Because he hasn’t any scientific abilities.

HORACE. Has none?

MRS. CLARENCE. You surprise me. I understood that——

SIR EDWARD. My dear Madame, his science is all fudge. Very praiseworthy in a wealthy man, of course. That sort of thing has to be encouraged among the rich. We need funds always. But as to any practical value—why, the thing is absurd to a degree.

MRS. CLARENCE. And all the time he has been posing before us poor innocents as a veritable leader of thought.

SIR EDWARD. I may give you one instance. He has some fantastical ideas about life on the planet Mars. Now, all scientific men of any standing are quite agreed on this point. There is no such thing as life on the planet Mars.

HORACE. We know better than that, don’t we, Marsy?

MESSENGER. And this is your science!

HORACE. No. It’s not mine. It is his.

(_Lights out in interior. Enter BELLA L. hastily. She rings bell at front door._)

MESSENGER. Who comes now? Your servant, is it not?

HORACE. Bella! What can she want? Has she missed me?

(_Footman opens front door._)

BELLA. Is Mr. Parker here, please? (_Footman shakes his head._) Or Miss Parker, then? Quick, please! The house is on fire. (_Footman admits her and the door is closed._)

HORACE. The house on fire? My house on fire?

MESSENGER. Be calm. The firemen will attend to it. You’ll see all about it in the papers to-morrow.

HORACE. My house is on fire! Let me go! (_He starts to go, but is hypnotically held back._)

MESSENGER. Stay where you are. You would only be in the way. It is insured, of course.

HORACE. Curse you, no! All my papers will be destroyed. I’m done! I’m beaten! It’s your doing! Well, kill me at once! It would be a kindness! (_Sobs, thoroughly crushed._)

MESSENGER. Poor child of the times, crying over your alphabet.

HORACE. What will become of me? What will I do?

MESSENGER. Where are your divisions of labor now? Yours will be to tramp the streets. Stand forth, poor shivering wretch! You are _a beggar in rags_!

(_HORACE’S coat, scarf and hat are torn from him, and he appears as a ragged loafer._)

HORACE. (_Looking down at himself in despair_) I am! I am!

MESSENGER. And hungry.

HORACE. Ravenous!

(_HORACE leans back against the railings of the house, a most forlorn object. After a pause, enter slowly from R. the TRAMP. TRAMP spies HORACE and sidles up to him, and takes up a similar pose by his side. Nothing said for a little, but they examine each other._)

TRAMP. Know anything?

HORACE. Nothing. I’m hungry. Are you?

(_TRAMP brings out a biscuit from his pocket._)

TRAMP. Here’s a biscuit I’ve got left. It was given to me by a swell to-night. A real tip-topper. That sort of chap don’t know what hunger is.

HORACE. (_Eating ravenously_) Doesn’t he?

TRAMP. Don’t know a place to doss in, do you?

HORACE. No.

TRAMP. Tough, ain’t it?

HORACE. Very.

TRAMP. Know where you can get a job in the morning?

HORACE. Wish I did.

TRAMP. There’s a lot of snow to shovel.

HORACE. Lots.

TRAMP. But we ain’t got no shovels.

HORACE. Worse luck!

TRAMP. What are you?

HORACE. Nothing. Just a tramp.

TRAMP. Same as me. Seen better days?

HORACE. Yes.

TRAMP. Same as me again. Well, I like the looks of you. You seem a good sort, anyhow.

HORACE. Do I? You are the first to say so to-night. I’ve heard nothing but the contrary opinion of late.

TRAMP. Got a wife that nags, maybe?

HORACE. Not exactly a wife. I’ve got no wife.

TRAMP. Same as me again. I had a wife once, though. But she’s dead and gone. I had a little daughter, but I don’t know what become of her. What’s on here? A party?

HORACE. Yes.

(_Footman opens door and AUNT and BELLA come out, followed by DICEY and MINNIE._)

TRAMP. Going away. Come on, let’s call a cab.

HORACE. No good, they’ve got their own car.

AUNT. Oh, how thick the snow is.

DICEY. Don’t slip, Minnie.

TRAMP. Minnie! Look! There’s my Minnie! My darling little Minnie!

HORACE. Where?

TRAMP. There in the doorway, with that swell! It’s my Minnie! I’ll swear to it! The living image of her mother! I’m going to speak to her.

HORACE. (_Holding him back_) No, no, man. Think how you will disgrace her.

TRAMP. Disgrace her? Why, she will be proud of her father.

HORACE. See, she has someone to care for her. Why break in upon her life? You have forfeited your claim.

TRAMP. Not much I haven’t. She could give me a fine lift up, and then I’d help you.

HORACE. Not if I die in the gutter! It may be your right. But don’t drag her down to your level and mine. Stop him, Marsy! You can.

MESSENGER. (_Waves his hand to TRAMP, who seems to give up his purpose._) A thought for another. The fire is catching.

TRAMP. Well, you’re a rum ’un! No wonder you are down on your luck. A man must think of himself in this world a little bit. But you’re a good sort. I won’t speak to the girl, though she is my daughter. See here now, I’ve got an idea.

HORACE. I know you have. Lots of them.

TRAMP. How did you know that?

HORACE. I guessed it. (_Aside_) I hope he won’t recognize me.

TRAMP. The people will be going home presently. Let’s get to work and clear the snow for them to get to their cars. We might pick up a bit that way.

HORACE. Capital, but we have no shovels.

TRAMP. Can’t get shovels. Look around and see if you can’t find a bit of board to scrape with.

HORACE. A bit of board to scrape with! I recognize the inventor.

TRAMP. Here, what’s the matter with that barrel?

HORACE. Lor’, I should never have thought of that.

TRAMP. Look out for the Bobby!

(_TRAMP kicks barrel apart and tears out a couple of staves._)

TRAMP. You start on the steps.

(_They clear a path from door to off L._)

HORACE. (_As they work_) I wonder how much we shall make?

TRAMP. Sixpence or two if we’re in luck. Halves, partner?

HORACE. Halves, if you say so. Halves, partner.

TRAMP. Seems to me I’ve met you somewhere.

HORACE. Thunder, he recognizes me! (_Aside._)

TRAMP. Didn’t I see you last August down Margate way with a piano-organ and a monkey?

HORACE. (_Quite boldly_) Very likely.

TRAMP. I thought I’d met you before. Ah, you have come down a bit since then. About ready for them.

(_FOOTMAN at door and LADY and FIRST GENTLEMAN come out._)

TRAMP. (_Most cheerily_) Cleared the snow for you, Lady. Made a nice path, Sir. (_Touching his hat._)

HORACE. (_Faintly imitating and touching his hat_) Cleared the snow for you, Lady. Made a nice path, Sir.

FIRST GENTLEMAN. Sorry I haven’t got any coppers. Do take an answer.

TRAMP. Shall I call a cab, sir?

HORACE. Shall I call a cab, sir?

FIRST GENTLEMAN. No, no! (_Exit with lady L._)

TRAMP. That was a frost. Here’s some more.

(_Two gentlemen and a lady come out._)

TRAMP. Beg pardon, sir. Look what we’ve done. Ain’t it nice and handy for the lady? (_Less cheerily._)

HORACE. (_Rather more forcibly_) See what we’ve done. Ain’t it nice and handy for the lady?

SECOND GENTLEMAN. All muffled up or I would— (_Exit with others of the party._)

HORACE. I’ve said the same thing myself a dozen times.

TRAMP. Ain’t making our fortunes, are we, partner?

HORACE. The stingy brutes! Never mind, we’ll try again.

(_SIR EDWARD VIVIAN and two ladies come out._)

TRAMP. We cleared the snow away for you, sir. Can’t you spare us a trifle, sir?

SIR EDWARD. Nonsense! The servants of the house cleared it.

TRAMP. No, sir, we done it, sir. Me and my partner.

SIR EDWARD. You couple of impostors! Why, where are your shovels?

HORACE. (_Firing up_) We cleared it, and if you don’t like it you can bally well walk in the snow! (_Shoulders SIR EDWARD off the path into the snow._)

SIR EDWARD. You impudent loafer! Hi, Policeman! (_Enter POLICEMAN L._) This ruffian assaulted me.

POLICEMAN. Come out of that, you two! I know you! You’re old hands! Be off, both of you!

(_TRAMP drags HORACE away._)

POLICEMAN. Cab, sir? (_Very sweetly._)

SIR EDWARD. Thank you, Policeman. (_Gives money._)

(_Exeunt SIR EDWARD, ladies and POLICEMAN L._)

MESSENGER. Fine force, the police!

HORACE. I was nearly starting a labor riot. Well, that’s what is at the bottom of most of them.

TRAMP. (_Thoroughly broken_) My ideas don’t seem to come to anything any more. I’m a failure, and a bad ’un. I’ve been feeling bad all day, and this has about done for me. (_Falls down._)

(_HORACE goes to him and kneels down to him, trying to rouse him up._)

HORACE. Don’t talk like that! It is a splendid idea, and there are plenty more to come out.

TRAMP. I only wants burying, Partner, and they’ll have to do that. Damn ’em!

HORACE. You must pull yourself together. Marsy, won’t you help him?

MESSENGER. You can’t make me responsible for that dirty beggar’s condition.

HORACE. Ah, don’t mock me! I’m beaten! I give in.

MESSENGER. If you had your money again, you’d just go your old way, and leave him to die.

HORACE. That’s gone, and I wouldn’t have it back at that price. Only help him now.

MESSENGER. Try at the house.

HORACE. They know me there.

MESSENGER. What of that?

HORACE. I wouldn’t like Mrs. Clarence to see me in this condition.

MESSENGER. Your friend is dying.

(_HORACE pulls himself together and knocks loudly at the door. FOOTMAN opens door._)

HORACE. There’s a poor fellow dying of cold and hunger. Ask Mrs. Clarence if she will——

(_MRS. CLARENCE appears behind FOOTMAN._)

MRS. CLARENCE. What is it, John?

HORACE. There’s a poor fellow outside dying of cold.

MRS. CLARENCE. This is not a hospital. John, shut the door.

HORACE. (_Holding the door open_) Mrs. Clarence, you must not refuse this service.

MRS. CLARENCE. And pray, who are you?

HORACE. Horace Parker, a ruined man as you know—a tramp as you see.

MRS. CLARENCE. John, do you hear me?

HORACE. Mrs. Clarence—may he lie on the mat where your dog sleeps?

MRS. CLARENCE. John—— (_Retires, and door is shut in HORACE’S face._)

HORACE. You hear? What shall I do for him, Marsy?

MESSENGER. Well done, my pupil!

TRAMP. You’re a good ’un. I said it all along.

MESSENGER. Feel in your pocket.

HORACE. My pocket? What for? What’s this? A note! A pound note! Halves, Partner! Halves! (_HORACE bending over TRAMP, succoring him._)

CURTAIN

ACT III

_Scene same as at end of ACT I._

_At rise of curtain there should be shown on a transparency set, well down stage, a picture of the end of the last act, the snow scene and HORACE bending over the TRAMP and THE MESSENGER soaring homewards. At the same time HORACE himself is seen sleeping in his chair, breathing heavily. With the first clanging of the fire-engine bell and HORACE waking up, the lights increase at back and the dream scene fades away. The lamp is now seen to be lighted again, the fire burning brightly, and an “Extra” evening paper lying on table, close to HORACE. After sufficient pause after curtain is up, a fire engine is heard rumbling past from R. to L. outside, and this disturbs HORACE, who begins to wake, as the transparency picture fades away._

HORACE. (_Looks about him, bewildered, then at his clothes. Gives a short laugh and grunt, and leans back, smiling, with closed eyes._) What a nightmare!

(N.B. _If the statue of the Messenger is not used in performing the play, the following will be the correct speech, but if the figure is now on the lamp-stand, reference may be made and addressed to him in the second person._)

HORACE. Marsy, old boy, you have a lot to answer for! Fancy my dreaming I was hungry! Comes of eating a heavy dinner. (_With a sudden thought._) By Jove! (_Searches his pockets for his money. Finds it with a sigh of relief. Counts his notes carefully._) Ten, twenty, fifty, and one. All there. (_Pulls out some silver from his trousers pocket._) Even the silver. Very careless, very careless of me. I can hardly be trusted out at night with so much. I might in a weak moment hand it over to some hospital amid the admiring cheers of the populace. I must watch myself.

(_Loud clang of fire-engine bell as it passes from R. to L. startles him, and involuntarily he shouts out._)

HORACE. Fire! (_Then he checks himself._) Hope nobody heard me. My nerves are all on edge. I wish old Marsy would tell me whether that inventive vagabond got over his troubles or peacefully expired in the snow. Poor devil! I almost wish I could meet him again. We call such fellows riff-raff, rabble, but, if the truth were told, might not some of us be found to be the real loafers in the snug corners of Easy Street, of little good to anyone, cumbering up the way till that old patrolman, Death, steps up and bids us “Move on”?

(_Enter BELLA abruptly and alarmed, R._)

BELLA. Oh, sir, did you call?

HORACE. Call? (_Innocently._) Call what?

BELLA. Fire, sir. Fire.

HORACE. Fire is all right. Burning nicely.

BELLA. Yes, sir. Perhaps it was the fire engine going by.

HORACE. Very likely. Very likely. Did one go by?

BELLA. Yes, sir—and I was half dozing, and——

HORACE. You must have been dreaming, Bella. That’s very wrong. You shouldn’t. It’s a bad habit to get into. However, as you are sleepy you needn’t wait up. I shan’t sleep again. I mean I don’t think I shall feel like going to sleep at all.

BELLA. (_Aside_) As if I didn’t see him asleep. I think I would like to go to bed, sir, if you think Miss Minnie won’t want anything. They can’t be long now, sir.

HORACE. No. You go to bed. By the way, did you fill the lamp?

BELLA. Yes, sir, and made up the fire, and brought you in your “Extra.”

HORACE. Extra? (_Almost reeling with nervousness._)

BELLA. Yes, sir, I put it on the table. Oh, sir, are you ill?

HORACE. Ill? No. What an idea!

BELLA. You were so—so busy, sir, when I came in with the oil, I didn’t like to wa—— to disturb you, sir. Good night, sir.

HORACE. Good night, Bella. (_She exits R._) Then there was an Extra in reality. That was not all dream. There it is. What made me dream of the bank smash if nothing had been said about it? I dreamt of Mars. I had been reading of Mars. At this moment, great heavens, I may be, in very fact, a ruined man! (_Seizes paper with trembling hands and finds the place. Reads._) Not a word! (_Wipes his forehead._) Not a word, but _there might have been_! And why should this house not be burning as well as the one that is? What would I do? Cut my throat! An arrant coward’s refuge, after all. Ah, from the beggar’s point of view, wealth seemed so flinty hearted, while charity was natural and easy to the poor. (_Fire engine._) Evidently no false alarm this time. Somebody sick with anxiety and dread to-night. Heaven help them, whoever they are! What a rap Marsy would give me for that speech. He’d say, “Help them yourself. Don’t overtax Heaven.” Pshaw, I’d only be in the way. We have an excellent fire department. Best in the world. And there are so many need helping. How many lines of this paper tell of suffering, and how much may we read between the lines! (_Skims over paper._) “Wanted, plain sewing, to do at home.” “Young man wants work. Will do anything honest.” Honest? He is particular for these days. And I swore to Marsy that I wouldn’t take back my money except to share it with others. He might have made favorable terms with me just then. (_Sees ring on table._) Minnie’s ring. My trying to bully her. It was the act of a cur! I’ll tell her so. I’ll—(_Fire engine passes._) Another! It must be serious. (_Looks through curtains of window C._) What a sheet of flame! It must be in the next street. It may reach here. (_Looks intently._) No, the wind’s the other way. (_Relieved._) That tenement house, I’ll be bound! Poor people, what will they do this bitter night if they are burnt out? I don’t know what I could do if I really wanted to. I think I’ll put on my coat and hat and go and see. Don’t suppose I’ll do much harm looking on. (_Fire-engine bell again. He looks out again._) Ladder escape. (_Dresses a little quicker now._) I might take an extra coat for some one. (_Goes to closet containing several overcoats and takes one. Hesitates and then puts another over his arm. Is going R. when another engine passes._) I can’t stand it! (_Snatches the last overcoat. Leaves the closet door open and rushes out with coats over his arm R._)

(_Considerable pause, when front door bell rings. Pause, and then knock heard. Further pause, and knock and bell heard. Voices heard. After further pause, vigorous knocking and ringing heard, and voices in expostulation. Knocking and ringing suddenly stop as door is opened, and then enter AUNT, followed by MINNIE and DICEY, and last by BELLA, in hastily thrown on gown. They gather round the fire._)

AUNT. Really, Bella, I don’t understand you! We have been fully ten minutes battering at that door, and getting our deaths. I declare my teeth are chattering.

MINNIE. So is your tongue, Auntie.

AUNT. Don’t be disrespectful to your elders.

MINNIE. Sorry, Auntie. Only a joke.

AUNT. And quite without a point.

MINNIE. (_Aside_) It seemed to prick, though.

BELLA. If you please, Madam, Mr. Parker told me to go to bed.

AUNT. Very considerate of him as regards you.

MINNIE. Perhaps he meant to lock us out for our sins. It does look like it.

AUNT. Mr. Dicey, you must wait awhile till you get warmed up.

DICEY. It is very late, and I must not intrude. You are safe home now.

AUNT. I am sure we poor deserted females have much to be grateful for to you. You see how the master of the house treats us. Have you any idea where Mr. Parker is?

BELLA. No, Madam. He said he was going to sit up for you, and that is why I went to bed. I dressed as quick as I could, Madam.

MINNIE. Oh, it is not your fault, Bella.

AUNT. I’ll warrant he has gone to bed. Just like his utter want of thought for anybody. I hope he is sound asleep. He shall explain and apologize. This is going a little too far. Locking us out. Excuse me a moment. (_BELLA and AUNT exeunt R._)

MINNIE. Have a little something till Auntie comes back. Horace ought to be here to thank you for doing his duty.

DICEY. I’m afraid I’m keeping you up.

MINNIE. I am too much awake now. I shan’t sleep till daylight. Oh, here are some cigars. Have some?

DICEY. Some? If you are sure I am not trespassing upon your good nature, I’ll start one here and finish it on my way home. (_MINNIE strikes a light._) Oh, you are too good.

MINNIE. We must do something by way of return.

DICEY. Just order the car as if it were your own. I wish it was. It couldn’t have a fairer owner.

MINNIE. I was going to pour you out a glass—but I’m a little afraid——

DICEY. All the wines of Bacchus would be less intoxicating than my last waltz with you.

MINNIE. Then we must certainly swear off dancing!

DICEY. I’d as soon swear off living.

MINNIE. Do you only live to dance?

DICEY. I think I only live to dance with you.

MINNIE. Mr. Dicey!

DICEY. Minnie!

MINNIE. I wonder what has become of Horace?