FullReads

DOWEY.
‘I kept her out long on purpose so as to have less time to say them in.’

He more than half wishes that he could make a bolt to a public-house.

MRS. TWYMLEY.
‘It’s the best way.’ In the important affairs of life there is not much that any one can teach a charwoman. ‘Just a mere nothing, to wish you well, Mr. Dowey.’

All three present him with the cigarettes.

MRS. MICKLEHAM.
‘A scraping, as one might say.’

THE HAGGERTY WOMAN.
‘The heart,’ enigmatically, ‘is warm though it may not be gold-tipped.’

DOWEY.
‘You bricks!’

THE LADIES.
‘Good luck, cocky.’

DOWEY.
‘The same to you. And if you see a sodger man up there in a kilt, he is one that is going back with me. Tell him not to come down, but–but to give me till the last minute, and then to whistle.’

It is quite a grave man who is left alone, thinking what to do next. He tries a horse laugh, but that proves of no help. He says ‘Hell!’ to himself, but it is equally ineffective. Then he opens the pantry door and calls.

‘Old lady.’

She comes timidly to the door, her hand up as if to ward off a blow.

‘Is it time?’

An encouraging voice answers her.

‘No, no, not yet. I’ve left word for Dixon to whistle when go I must.’

‘All is ended.’

‘Now, then, you promised to be gay. We were to help one another.’

‘Yes, Kenneth.’

‘It’s bad for me, but it’s worse for you.’

‘The men have medals to win, you see.’

‘The women have their medals, too.’ He knows she likes him to order her about, so he tries it again.

‘Come here. No, I’ll come to you.’ He stands gaping at her wonderingly. He has no power of words, nor does he quite know what he would like to say. ‘God!’

‘What is it, Kenneth?’

‘You’re a woman.’

‘I had near forgot it.’

He wishes he was at the station with Dixon. Dixon is sure to have a bottle in his pocket. They will be roaring a song presently. But in the meantime–there is that son business. Blethers, the whole thing, of course–or mostly blethers. But it’s the way to please her.

‘Have you noticed you have never called me son?’

‘Have I noticed it! I was feared, Kenneth. You said I was on probation.’

‘And so you were. Well, the probation’s ended.’ He laughs uncomfortably. ‘The like of me! But if you want me you can have me.’

‘Kenneth, will I do?’

‘Woman,’ artfully gay, ‘don’t be so forward. Wait till I have proposed.’

‘Propose for a mother?’

‘What for no?’ In the grand style, ‘Mrs. Dowey, you queer carl, you spunky tiddy, have I your permission to ask you the most important question a neglected orphan can ask of an old lady?’

She bubbles with mirth. Who could help it, the man has such a way with him.

‘None of your sauce, Kenneth.’

‘For a long time, Mrs. Dowey, you cannot have been unaware of my sonnish feelings for you.’

‘Wait till I get my mop to you!’

‘And if you’re not willing to be my mother, I swear I’ll never ask another.’

The old divert pulls him down to her and strokes his hair.

‘Was I a well-behaved infant, mother?’

‘Not you, sonny, you were a rampaging rogue.’

‘Was I slow in learning to walk?’

‘The quickest in our street. He! he! he!’ She starts up. ‘Was that the whistle?’

‘No, no. See here. In taking me over you have, in a manner of speaking, joined the Black Watch.’

‘I like to think that, Kenneth.’

‘Then you must behave so that the ghost piper can be proud of you. ‘Tion!’ She stands bravely at attention. ‘That’s the style. Now listen, I’ve sent in your name as being my nearest of kin, and your allowance will be coming to you weekly in the usual way.’