]
[ROBERT stands up stage, in the middle: AUNTIE and VICAR, down
stage, one on either side. MARY with her aunt.]
ROBERT. Can I be 'eard civil in this 'ouse, if I speak a few words?
[They make a movement as towards him.]
'Old back! Don't you come near me! Don't you so much as speak
till I've done! . . .
[To Auntie and Vicar respectively]. You don't know me: you don't
know me . . . Understand?
There's no one 'ere as knows oo I am, excep' one little gel--'er
over there. Now, keep quiet! 'Ere! . . .
[MARY goes up to him.]
Tell 'em oo I am.
MARY. Why, it's my friend--the man I was telling you about! The
man who looks after the drains!
ROBERT. That's about it: I'm the drain-man, _see_? Thought you
might be mistakin' me for--summat else, if you wasn't told. Now
you know.
[MARY'S face, as she returns, bears the first dawn of an idea. The
VICAR lifts a hand of warning to AUNTIE.]
VICAR. Go on.
ROBERT. That's what I come 'ere to talk abaht--my job. P'r'aps
you'll think as it ain't a tasty subjic, before a lot o' nice,
clean, respectable people as never 'ad anythin' worse on their
fingers than a bit of lawn-dirt, playin' crokey; but _some one_ 'as
to see to the drains, _some one_ 'as to clear up the muck of the
world! I'm the one.
Pages:
96
97
98
99
100
101
102
103
104
105
106
107
108
109
110
111
112
113
114
115
116
117
118
119
120