]
VICAR. Just in time for breakfast, my lord.
[Enter ROBERT SMITH and MANSON. ROBERT'S costume is a navvy's, the
knees tied With string.]
ROBERT [grimly]. Thanks, Bill Awlmighty, don't mind if I do. My
belly's fair aching.
VICAR. Robert!
ROBERT. Yus, it's me, my 'oly brother!
VICAR. Didn't you--didn't you get my wire?
ROBERT. Yus, I gorit-: _Drains wrong_, eh? Thought I'd like to
'av' a look at 'em--my job, yer know, _drains_! So you'll excuse
the togs: remind you of old days, eh what?
VICAR. Robert, what have you come here for?
ROBERT. You arsk me that?
VICAR. Yes, I do. Bob . . .
ROBERT. Why, to see my little gel, o' course--Gawd curse you! . . .
Now go an tell your ole woman.
[The VICAR stands as though stricken.]
Did you 'ear me speak? Tell 'er!
[The VICAR wavers a moment, and then staggers out silently through
the door, right. ROBERT watches him off with a look of iron. He
pays no heed to MANSON, who stands quite close to him, on the left.]
See that blighter? That's the bloke as was born with no bowels!
'E might a-made a man o' me once, if 'e'd tried; but 'e didn't--'im
and 'is like.
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