y 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. . .
ROBERT. Things may 'a' bin agin 'im, miss! . . .
MARY. Oh, you make me so unhappy! . . .
ROBERT. P'r'aps 'e's 'ad a 'ard life--a bitter 'ard life--same as
I 'av', miss . . . [He breaks down.]
MARY. Ssh! Please! Please! . . .
I can quite understand: indeed, indeed, I can! I'm sorry--oh, so
sorry for you. You are thinking of yourself and of your own little
girl--the little girl who doesn't know what you have been telling
me. Don't be miserable! I'm sure it will all turn out right in
the end--things always do; far better than you dream! Only . . .
don't take away _my_ little dream!
[She turns away her face. ROBERT rises heavily.]
ROBERT. All right, miss--I won't: swelp me Gawd, I won't. Don't
cry, miss. Don't, miss! Breaks my 'eart--after all you've done
for me. I ort never to 'a' bin born--mekin' you cry! Thank you
kindly, miss: thank you very kindly. I'll--I'll tek my 'ook.
MARY. Oh, but I'm so sorry for _you_!
ROBERT. Thank you, miss.
MARY. I did so want to help you.
ROBERT. You 'av', miss.
MARY. Before you go, won't you tell me your name? Who are you?
ROBERT. I . . .
I got no name worth speakin' of, miss: I'm--just the bloke wot's
a-lookin' arter the drains.
Good-bye, miss.
[At the door, he turns.]
Sorry I used bad words, miss
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