Books: Hobson\'s Choice

H >> Harold Brighouse >> Hobson\'s Choice

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HOBSON. Well--

MAGGIE. That's enough, Will. You don't need to overdo it. You can
sit down for five minutes, father. That sofa 'ull bear your
weight. It's been tested.

(HOBSON _sits on sofa_, R. C. WILLIE _goes back to the
chair_, R.)

WILLIE (_taking up teapot_). There's nobbut tea to drink and
I reckon what's in the pot is stewed, so I'll--

MAGGIE (_taking pot off him as he moves to fire-place with
it_). You'll not do owt of sort. Father likes his liquids
strong.

WILLIE (_down_ R. _of table_). A piece of pork pie now,
Mr. Hobson?

HOBSON (_groaning_). Pork pie!

MAGGIE (_sharply_). You'll be sociable now you're here, I
hope. (_She pours tea at table, top end_.)

HOBSON. It wasn't sociability that brought me, Maggie.

MAGGIE. What was it, then?

HOBSON. Maggie, I'm in disgrace. A sore and sad misfortune's
fallen on me.

MAGGIE (_cutting_). Happen a piece of wedding cake 'ull do
you good.

HOBSON (_shuddering_). It's sweet.

MAGGIE. That's natural in cake.

(MAGGIE _sits in chair above table_.)

HOBSON. I've gotten such a head.

MAGGIE. Aye. But wedding cake's a question of heart. There'd be
no bride cakes made at all if we thought first about our heads.
I'm quite aware it's foolishness, but I've a wish to see my
father sitting at my table eating my wedding cake on my wedding-
day.

HOBSON. It's a very serious thing I came about, Maggie.

MAGGIE. It's not more serious than knowing that you wish us well.

HOBSON. Well, Maggie, you know my way. When a thing's done it's
done. You've had your way and done what you wanted. I'm none
proud of the choice you made and I'll not lie and say I am, but
I've shaken your husband's hand, and that's a sign for you. The
milk's spilt and I'll not cry.

MAGGIE (_holding plate_). Then there's your cake, and you
can eat it.

HOBSON. I've given you my word there's no ill feeling. (_Pushes
cake away_.)

MAGGIE. So now we'll have the deed. (_Pushes it back_.)

HOBSON. You're a hard woman. (_He eats_.) You've no
consideration for the weakness of old age.

MAGGIE. Finished?

HOBSON. Pass me that tea.

(_She passes: he drinks_.)

That's easier.

MAGGIE. Now tell me what it is you came about?

HOBSON. I'm in sore trouble, Maggie.

MAGGIE (_rising and going towards door_, L.). Then I'll
leave you with my husband to talk it over.

HOBSON. Eh?

MAGGIE. You'll not be wanting me. Women are only in your way.

HOBSON (_rising and going_ C.). Maggie, you re not going to
desert me in the hour of my need, are you?

MAGGIE. Surely to goodness you don't want a woman to help you
after all you've said! Will 'ull do his best, I make no doubt.
(_She goes towards door_.) Give me a call when you've
finished, Will.

HOBSON (_following her_). Maggie! It's private.

MAGGIE. Why, yes. I'm going and you can discuss it man to man
with no fools of women about.

HOBSON. I tell you I've come to see you, not him. It's private
from him.

MAGGIE. Private from Will? Nay, it isn't. Will's in the family--
(_comes back a little_),--and you've nowt to say to me that
can't be said to him.

HOBSON. I've to tell you this with him there?

MAGGIE. Will and me's one.

WILLIE. Sit down, Mr. Hobson.

MAGGIE. You call him father now.

WILLIE (_astonished_). Do I?

HOBSON. Does he?

MAGGIE. He does. Sit down, Will.

(WILL _sits right of table_. MAGGIE _stands at the head of
the table_. HOBSON _sits on sofa_.)

Now, if you're ready, father, we are. What's the matter?

HOBSON. That--(_producing the blue paper_)--that's the
matter.

(MAGGIE _accepts and passes it to_ WILL _and goes behind
his chair. He is reading upside down. She bends over chair and
turns it right way up_.)

MAGGIE. What is it, Will?

HOBSON (_banging table_). Ruin, Maggie, that's what it is!
Ruin and bankruptcy. Am I vicar's warden at St. Philip's or am I
not? Am I Hobson of Hobson's Boot Shop on Chapel Street, Salford?
Am I a respectable ratepayer and the father of a family or--

MAGGIE (_who has been reading over_ WILL'S _shoulder_).
It's an action for damages for trespass, I see.

HOBSON. It's a stab in the back, it's an unfair, un-English,
cowardly way of taking a mean advantage of a casual accident.

MAGGIE. Did you trespass?

HOBSON. Maggie, I say it solemnly, it is all your fault. I had an
accident. I don't deny it. I'd been in the "Moonraker's" and I'd
stayed too long. And why? Why did I stay too long? To try to
forget that I'd a thankless child, to erase from the tablets of
memory the recollection of your conduct. That was the cause of
it. And the result, the blasting, withering result? I fell into
that cellar. I slept in that cellar and I awoke to this
catastrophe. Lawyers... law-costs... publicity... ruin.

MAGGIE (_moving round table to_ C.). I'm still asking you.
Was it an accident? Or did you trespass?

HOBSON. It's an accident. As plain as Salford Town Hall it's an
accident, but they that live by law have twisted ways of putting
things that make white show as black. I'm in their grip at last.
I've kept away from lawyers all my life, I've hated lawyers, and
they've got their chance to make me bleed for it. I've dodged
them, and they've caught me in the end. They'll squeeze me dry
for it.

WILLIE. My word, and that's summat like a squeeze and all.

(HOBSON _stares at him_.)

MAGGIE. I can see it's serious. I shouldn't wonder if you didn't
lose some trade from this.

HOBSON. Wonder! (_Rising and moving_ C.) It's as certain as
Christmas. My good-class customers are not going to buy their
boots from a man who's stood up in open court and had to
acknowledge he was overcome at 12 o'clock in the morning. They'll
not remember it was private grief that caused it all. They'll
only think the worse of me because I couldn't control my daughter
better than to let her go and be the cause of sorrow to me in my
age. That's what you've done. Brought this on me, you two,
between you.

WILLIE. Do you think it will get into the paper, Maggie?

MAGGIE. Yes, for sure. You'll see your name in the _Salford
Reporter_, father.

HOBSON. _Salford Reporter_! Yes, and more. When there is
ruin and disaster, and outrageous fortune overwhelms a man of my
importance to the world, it isn't only the _Salford
Reporter_ that takes note of it. This awful cross that's come
to me will be recorded in the _Manchester Guardian_ for the
whole of Lancashire to read.

WILLIE. Eh, by gum, think of that! To have your name appearing in
the _Guardian_! Why, it's very near worth while to be ruined
for the pleasure of reading about yourself in a printed paper.

HOBSON (_sits sofa_). It's there for others to read besides
me, my lad.

WILLIE. Aye, you're right. I didn't think of that. This 'ull give
a lot of satisfaction to a many I could name. Other people's
troubles is mostly what folks read the paper for, and I reckon
it's twice the pleasure to them when it's trouble of a man they
know themselves. (_He is perfectly simple and has no malicious
intention_.)

HOBSON. To hear you talk it sounds like a pleasure to you.

WILLIE (_sincerely_). Nay, it's not. You've ate my wedding
cake and you've shook my hand. We're friends, I hope, and I were
nobbut meditating like a friend. I always think it's best to look
on the worst side of things first, then whatever chances can't be
worse than you looked for. There's St. Philip's now. I don't
suppose you'll go on being vicar's warden after this to do, and
it brought you a powerful lot of customers from the church, did
that.

HOBSON (_turning to her_). I'm getting a lot of comfort from
your husband, Maggie.

MAGGIE. It's about what you deserve. (_Goes to him_.)

HOBSON. Have you got any more consolation for me, Will?

WILLIE (_aggrieved_). I only spoke what came into my mind.

HOBSON. Well, have you spoken it all?

WILLIE. I can keep my mouth shut if you'd rather.

HOBSON. Don't strain yourself, Will Mossop. When a man's mind is
full of thoughts like yours, they're better out than in. You let
them come, my lad. They'll leave a cleaner place behind.

WILLIE. I'm not much good at talking, and I always seem to say
wrong things when I do talk. I'm sorry if my well-meant words
don't suit your taste, but I thought you came here for advice.

HOBSON. I didn't come to you, you jumped-up cock-a-hooping--
(_Rising_.)

MAGGIE. That 'ull do, father. (_Pushes him down_.) My
husband's _trying_ to help you.

HOBSON (_glares impatiently for a time, then meekly says_).
Yes, Maggie.

MAGGIE. Now about this accident of yours.

HOBSON. Yes, Maggie.

MAGGIE. It's the publicity that you're afraid of most.

HOBSON. It's being dragged into a court of law at all, me that's
voted right all through my life and been a sound supporter of the
Queen and Constitution.

MAGGIE. Then we must try to keep it out of court. (_Moves away
to_ L. C.)

HOBSON (_rising and moving to_ C.). If there are lawyers in
Heaven, Maggie, which I doubt, they may keep cases out of courts
there. On earth a lawyer's job's to squeeze a man and squeeze him
where his squirming's seen the most--in court.

MAGGIE. I've heard of cases being settled out of court, in
private.

HOBSON. In private? Yes, I dare say, and all the worse for that.
It's done amongst themselves in lawyers' offices behind closed
doors so no one can see they're squeezing twice as hard in
private as they'd dare to do in public. There's some restraint
demanded by a public place, but privately! It'll cost a fortune
to settle this in private, Maggie.

MAGGIE. I make no doubt it's going to cost you something, but
you'd rather do it privately than publicly?

HOBSON (_coming back to sofa and sitting again_). If only it
were not a lawyer's office.

MAGGIE. You can settle it with the lawyer out of his office. You
can settle with him here.

(_She goes_ L. _and opens door. Then comes down_ L.)
Albert!

(_Enter_ ALBERT, _who leaves door open. He comes_ C.)

This is Mr. Prosser, of Prosser, Pilkington, and Prosser.

HOBSON (_amazed_). He is!

MAGGIE. Yes.

HOBSON (_incredulously, rising_). You're a lawyer!

ALBERT. Yes, I'm a lawyer.

HOBSON (_with disgust almost too deep for words_). At your
age!

MAGGIE (_going up to door_). Come out, all of you. (_She
moves to top end of table_.)

(_There is reluctance inside, then_ VICKEY, ALICE _and_
FRED _enter and stand in a row_, L.)

HOBSON. Alice! Vickey!

MAGGIE. Family gathering. This is Mr. Beenstock, of Beenstock &
Co.

FREDDY. How do you do?

HOBSON. What! Here!

(_The situation is plainly beyond his mused brain's
capacity_.)

MAGGIE. When you've got a thing to settle, you need all the
parties to be present.

HOBSON. But there are so many of them. Where have they all come
from?

MAGGIE. My bedroom.

HOBSON. Your--? Maggie, I wish you'd explain before my brain
gives way.

MAGGIE. It's quite simple. I got them here because I expected
you.

HOBSON. You expected me!

MAGGIE. Yes. You're in trouble.

HOBSON (_shaking his head, then as if finding an outlet,
pouncing on_ ALICE). What's it got to do with Alice and
Vickey? What are they doing here ? What's happening to the shop?
(_Moves_ C.)

ALICE. Tubby Wadlow's looking after it.

HOBSON. And is it Tubby's job to look after the shop?

VICKEY. He'd got no other job. The shop's so slack since Maggie
left.

HOBSON (_swelling with rage_). And do you run that shop? Do
you give orders there? Do you decide when you can put your hats
on and walk out of it?

MAGGIE. They come out because it's my wedding-day, father. It's
reason enough, and Will and me 'ull do the same for them. We'll
close the shop and welcome on their wedding-days.

HOBSON. Their wedding-days! That's a long time off. It'll be many
a year before there's another wedding in this family, I give you
my word. (_Turns to_ MAGGIE.) One daughter defying me is
quite enough.

ALBERT. Hadn't we better get to business, sir?

HOBSON (_turning on him_). Young man, don't abuse a noble
word. You're a lawyer. By your own admission you're a lawyer.
Honest men live by business and lawyers live by law.

ALBERT. In this matter, sir, I am following the instructions of
my client, Mr. Beenstock, and the remark you have just let fall,
before witnesses, appears to me to bear a libellous reflection on
the action of my client.

HOBSON. What! So it's libel now. Isn't trespass and... and
spying on trade secrets enough for you, you blood-sucking--
(_To_ ALBERT.)

ALBERT. One moment, Mr. Hobson. You can call me what you like--

HOBSON. And I shall. You--

ALBERT. But I wish to remind you, in your own interests, that
abuse of a lawyer is remembered in the costs. Now, my client
tells me he is prepared to settle this matter out of court.
Personally, I don't advise him to, because we should probably get
higher damages in court. But Mr. Beenstock has no desire to be
vindictive. He remembers your position, your reputation for
respectability, and--

HOBSON. How much?

ALBERT. Er--I beg your pardon?

HOBSON. I'm not so fond of the sound of your voice as you are.
What's the figure?

ALBERT. The sum we propose, which will include my ordinary costs,
but not any additional costs incurred by your use of defamatory
language to me, is one thousand pounds.

HOBSON. What!

MAGGIE. It isn't.

HOBSON. One thousand pounds for tumbling down a cellar! Why, I
might have broken my leg. (_Moves away to_ R.)

ALBERT. That is in the nature of an admission, Mr. Hobson. Our
flour bags saved your legs from fracture and I am therefore
inclined to add to the sum I have stated a reasonable estimate of
the doctor's bill we have saved you by protecting your legs with
our bags. (_Turns towards_ FREDDY.)

(HOBSON _sits_ R.)

MAGGIE. Eh, Albert Prosser, I can see you're going to get on in
the world, but you needn't be greedy here. That one thousand's
too much. (_Comes_ C.)

ALBERT. We thought--

MAGGIE. Then you can think again.

FREDDY. But--

MAGGIE. If there are any more signs of greediness from you two,
there'll be a counter-action for personal damages due to your
criminal carelessness in leaving your cellar flap open.

HOBSON. (_rising_). Maggie, you've saved me. I'll bring that
action. I'll show them up.

MAGGIE. You're not damaged, and one lawyer's quite enough. But
he'll be more reasonable now. I know perfectly well what father
can afford to pay, and it's not a thousand pounds nor anything
like a thousand pounds.

HOBSON. Not so much of your can't afford, Maggie. You'll make me
out a pauper.

MAGGIE (_turns to HOBSON_). You can afford 500 pounds and
you're going to pay 500 pounds.

HOBSON. Oh, but... there's a difference between affording and
paying.

MAGGIE. You can go to the courts and be reported in the papers if
you like. (_Moves to above table_, R.C.)

HOBSON. It's the principle I care about. I'm being beaten by a
lawyer.

VICKEY (_going to_ HOBSON). Father, dear, how can you be
beaten when they wanted a thousand pounds and you're only going
to give 500 pounds?

HOBSON. I hadn't thought of that.

VICKEY. It's they who are beaten.

HOBSON. I'd take a good few beatings myself at the price, Vickey.
Still, I want this keeping out of court.

ALBERT. Then we can take it as settled?

HOBSON. Do you want to see the money before you believe me? Is
that your nasty lawyer's way?

ALBERT. Not at all, Mr. Hobson. Your word is as good as your
bond. (_Moves back_ L.)

VICKEY. It's settled! It's settled! Hurrah! Hurrah! (_Moves_
L. _to_ FREDDY.)

HOBSON. Well, I don't see what you have to cheer about, Vickey.
I'm not to be dragged to public scorn, but you know this is a
tidy bit of money to be going out of the family. (_Sits
sofa_, R. C.)

MAGGIE. It's not going out of the family, father. (_Moves
up_ R.)

HOBSON. I don't see how you make it out.

MAGGIE. Their wedding-day is not so far off as you thought, now
there's the half of five hundred pounds apiece for them to make a
start on.

(ALBERT _and_ ALICE, FRED _and_ VICKEY _stand arm in
arm_, L.) HOBSON. You mean to tell me--

MAGGIE. You won't forget you've passed your word, will you
father?

HOBSON (_rising_). I've been diddled. (_Moves_ C.) It's
a plant. It--

MAGGIE. It takes two daughters off your hands at once, and clears
your shop of all the fools of women that used to lumber up the
place.

ALICE. It will be much easier for you without us in your way,
father.

HOBSON. Aye, and you can keep out of my way and all. Do you hear
that, all of you?

VICKEY. Father...!

HOBSON (_picking up his hat_). I'll run that shop with men
and--and I'll show Salford how it should be run. Don't you
imagine there'll be room for you when you come home crying and
tired of your fine husbands. I'm rid of ye, and it's a lasting
riddance, mind. I'll pay this money, that you've robbed me of,
and that's the end of it. All of you. You, especially, Maggie.
I'm not blind yet, and I can see who 'tis I've got to thank for
this. (_He goes to foot of stairs_.)

MAGGIE. Don't be vicious, father.

HOBSON. Will Mossop, I'm sorry for you. (_Over banisters_.)
Take you for all in all, you're the best of the bunch. You're a
backward lad, but you know your trade and it's an honest one.

(HOBSON _is going up the stairs_.)

ALICE. So does my Albert know his trade. (_Goes_ R. C.)

HOBSON (_half-way up-stairs_). I'll grant you that. He knows
his trade. He's good at robbery. (ALICE _shows great
indignation_.) And I've to have it on my conscience that my
daughter's wed a lawyer and an employer of lawyers.

VICKEY. It didn't worry your conscience to keep us serving in the
shop at no wages.

HOBSON. I kept you, didn't I? It's some one else's job to victual
you in future. Aye, you may grin, you two, but girls don't live
on air. Your penny buns 'ull cost you tuppence now--and more.
Wait, till the families begin to come. Don't come to me for keep,
that's all. (_Going_.)

ALICE. Father!

HOBSON (_turning_). Aye. You may father me. But that's a
piece of work I've finished with. I've done with fathering, and
they're beginning it. They'll know what marrying a woman means
before so long. They're putting chains upon themselves and I have
thrown the shackles off. I've suffered thirty years and more and
I'm a free man from to-day. Lord, what a thing you're taking on!
You poor, poor wretches. You're red-nosed robbers, but you're
going to pay for it.

(_He opens door and exits_ R.)

MAGGIE (_coming_ C.). You'd better arrange to get married
quick. Alice and Vickey will have a sweet time with him.

FREDDY. Can they go home at all!

MAGGIE. Why not?

FREDDY. After what he said?

MAGGIE. He'll not remember half of it. He's for the "Moonraker's"
now--if there's time. What is the time?

ALBERT. Time we were going, Maggie--(_going to her_, C.);--
you'll be glad to see the back of us. (_He shows_ MAGGIE
_his watch_.)

WILLIE. No. No. (_Rising_.) I wouldn't dream of asking you
to go.

MAGGIE (_moving up to get hats_). Then I would. It's high
time we turned you out. There are your hats.

(_She gets_ ALBERT'S _and_ FRED'S _hats from
rack_, R.)

Good night.

(ALBERT _and_ FREDDY _go upstairs_. MAGGIE _comes
back_, C.)

Good night, Vickey.

VICKEY (_with a quick kiss_). Good night, Maggie.

(VICKEY _goes upstairs. She and_ FREDDY _go out_.)

MAGGIE. Good night, Alice.

ALICE. Good night, Maggie. (_The same quick kiss_.) And
thank you.

MAGGIE. Oh, that! (_She goes with her to stairs_.) I'll see
you again soon, only don't come round here too much, because Will
and me's going to be busy and you'll maybe find enough to do
yourselves with getting wed.

ALICE. I dare say. (_Upstairs_.)

(_The general exit is continuous, punctuated with laughter and
merry "Good nights!"_)

MAGGIE. Send us word when the day is.

ALBERT. We'll be glad to see you at the wedding.

MAGGIE. We'll come to that. You'll be too grand for us
afterwards.

ALBERT. Oh, no, Maggie.

MAGGIE. Well, happen we'll be catching up with you before so
long. We're only starting here. Good night.

ALBERT & ALICE Good night, Maggie.

(_They go out, closing door_. MAGGIE _turns to_ WILL,
_putting her hands on his shoulders. He starts_.)

MAGGIE. Now you've heard what I've said of you to-night. In
twenty years you're going to be thought more of than either of
your brothers-in-law.

WILLIE. I heard you say it, Maggie.

MAGGIE. And we're to make it good. I'm not a boaster, Will. And
it's to be in less than twenty years, and all.

WILLIE. Well, I dunno. They've a long start on us.

MAGGIE. And you've got me. Your slate's in the bedroom. Bring it
out. I'll have this table clear by the time you come back.

(_She moves round to_ R. _of table and hustles off the last
remains of the meal, putting the flowers on the mantel and takes
off cloth, placing it over the back of the chair_, R. WILL _goes
to bedroom and returns with a slate and slate pencil. The slate
is covered with writing. He puts it on table_.)

MAGGIE. Off with your Sunday coat now. You don't want to make a
mess of that.

(_He takes coat off and gets rag from behind screen and brings
it back to table. He hangs his coat on a peg_, R.)

What are you doing with that mopping rag?

WILLIE. I was going to wash out what's on the slate.

MAGGIE. Let me see it first. That's what you did last night at
Tubby's after I came here?

WILLIE. Yes, Maggie.

MAGGIE (_sitting at table up_ R. C., _reading_). "There
is always room at the top." (_Washing it out_.) Your
writing's improving, Will. I'll set you a short copy for to-
night, because it's getting late and we've a lot to do in the
morning. (_Writing_.) "Great things grow from small." Now,
then, you can sit down here and copy that!

(_He takes her place at the table_. MAGGIE _watches a moment,
then goes to fire-place and fingers the flowers_.)

I'll put these flowers of Mrs. Hepworth's behind the fire, Will.
We'll not want litter in the place come working time to-morrow.

(_She takes up basin, stops, looks at_ WILL, _who is bent over
his slate, and takes a flower out, throwing the rest behind the
fire and going to bedroom with the one_.)

WILLIE (_looking up_). You're saving one.

MAGGIE (_caught in an act of sentiment and apologetically_).
I thought I'd press it in my Bible for a keepsake, Will. I'm not
beyond liking to be reminded of this day.

(_She looks at screen and yawns_.)

Lord, I'm tired. I reckon I'll leave those pots till morning.
It's a slackish way of starting, but I don't get married every
day.

WILLIE (_industrious at his slate_). No.

MAGGIE. I'm for my bed. You finish that copy before you come.

WILLIE. Yes, Maggie.

(_Exit_ MAGGIE _to bedroom, with the flower. She closes
door_. WILL _copies, repeats letters and words as he writes
them slowly, finishes, then rises and rakes out fire. He looks
shyly at bedroom door, sits and takes his boots off. He rises,
boots in hand, moves towards door, hesitates, and turns back,
puts boots down at door, then returns to table and takes off his
collar. Then hesitates again, finally makes up his mind, puts out
light, and lies down on sofa with occasional glances at the
bedroom door. At first he faces the fire. He is uncomfortable. He
turns over and faces the door. In a minute_ MAGGIE _opens
the bedroom door. She has a candle and is in a plain calico
night-dress. She comes to_ WILL, _shines the light on him,
takes him by the ear, and returns with him to bedroom_).

CURTAIN.

[Illustration.]
Red papered chamber of an old-fashioned design.
Antimacassars on chairs. All sorts of china ornaments. Dogs,
vases, artificial flowers, lace curtains on window, books, boot
boxes, cushions with lace covers, fire lit. Gas brackets each
side of mantelpiece. Old pictures, velvet-framed views.

ACT IV

_The scene represents_ HOBSON'S _living-room, the door to
which was seen in Act I. From inside the room that door is now
seen to be at the left, the opposite wall having the fire-place
and another door to the house.

It is eight o'clock on a morning a year later.

In front of the fire-place is a horsehair arm-chair. Chairs to
match are at the table. There are coloured prints of Queen
Victoria and the Prince Consort on the walls on each side of the
door at the back, and a plain one of Lord Beaconsfield over the
fire-place. Antimacassars abound, and the decoration is quaintly
ugly. It is an overcrowded, "cosy" room_. HOBSON _is quite
contented with it, and doesn't realize that it is at present very
dirty.

There is probably a kitchen elsewhere, but_ TUBBY WADLOW _is
cooking bacon at the fire. He is simultaneously laying breakfast
for one on the table. At both proceedings he is a puzzled and
incompetent amateur. Presently the left door opens, and_ JIM
HEELER _appears_.

JIM (_crossing_). I'll go straight up to him, Tubby.

TUBBY (_checking him_). He's getting up, Mr. Heeler.

JIM. Getting up! Why, you said--

TUBBY. I told you what he told me to tell you. Run for Doctor
MacFarlane, he said. And I ran for Doctor MacFarlane. Now go to
Mr. Heeler, he said, and tell him I'm very ill, and I came and
told you. Then he said he would get up, and I was to have his
breakfast ready for him, and he'd see you down here. (_Goes to
fire_, R.)

JIM (_moving towards door up_ R.). Nonsense, Tubby. Of
course, I'll go up to him.

TUBBY. You know what he is, sir. I'll get blamed if you go, and
he's short-tempered this morning.

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