ACT III

_At 41 Elizabeth Street the combined kitchen and living-room opens directly to the street, the street door being centre, with the window next to it. Through the window the other side of the drab street is seen. A door leads to the stairs, while another gives access to the scullery. The room is fairly comfortable. A handsome presentation clock is on the mantel over the fireplace. The plate-rack is well furnished. Rocking-chair by fireplace. Sofa under window, behind which is a plant on a stand. Table round which three Old Women sit at tea. Mrs. Wilmot and Mrs. Norbury, as visitors, wear outdoor clothes and bonnets, of which they have loosened the strings. Mrs. Metherell has grey hair, a small person, and an indomitable will. She is too hearty to be ill-natured, but she is mistress of her house and knows it. She wears her after-work dress of decent black. The remains of a substantial meal are on the table. Smoke-blackened kettle on fire._

Mrs. Wilmot (_sighing_). Eh, yes. Elizabeth Street isn't what it was.

Mrs. Metherell. It's not the street, Amy, it's the people in it.

Mrs. Norbury. It used to be known for a saving street when I first came to live here. Every house had a bank-book.

Mrs. Wilmot. And there's more money coming into the street to-day than there was then.

Mrs. Norbury. And going out. They spend more in an ordinary week than ever me and my old man spent in a holiday week one time, and if they don't spend, they gamble, and nothing to show for it all at the finish.

Mrs. Wilmot. Yes, and come begging off their mother as soon as they fall sick or out of work. And that uppish with it all!

Mrs. Norbury. Do you think I can get my girls to stay at home and give me a lift with the house of an evening? Not they. They've always something on that's more important than me. I'm nobody. And the money those girls spend on their clothes!

Mrs. Wilmot. Time was when a man _'_ud come straight home when he'd finished work and be satisfied with doing a bit in his garden. Most he'd ever think of, barring Saturday night of course, was one night a week at his club. Nowadays it's every night the same.

(_Mrs. Metherell moves impatiently._)

Mrs. Norbury. I know. You did know where to lay your hand on them once, but there's no telling where they get to now.

Mrs. Wilmot. It's all these picture shows and music halls.

Mrs. Metherell (_roughly_). It's all your own fault, Amy.

Mrs. Wilmot. Why?

Mrs. Metherell. You let them put upon you.

Mrs. Norbury. I suppose you don't?

Mrs. Metherell. Our Jack doesn't carry on that road.

Mrs. Wilmot. He'll have it out of you yet. He's quiet and deep.

Mrs. Metherell (_confidently_). He's safe enough.

Mrs. Wilmot. Till he breaks out.

Mrs. Metherell. He's never broken yet.

Mrs. Norbury. You're lucky, then.

Mrs. Metherell. It isn't luck. It's the way you go about it with them.

Mrs. Norbury (_enviously_). Yours gets good money, too.

Mrs. Metherell. And I see it all. We've a use for a bank-book in this house.

Mrs. Wilmot. I wish I saw the half of what mine get. Always crying out for more, but not to give it me. Some of them wouldn't be happy if they'd their own motor-car.

Mrs. Metherell. Yes. That's the way. When I was young a man could start poor and end rich. He'd save and stick to what he got. These lads to-day _'_ull never rise. They're too busy spending what they have. My Jack knows a game worth two of that. He's improving his mind. His bedroom's full of books. Fitting himself to rise, Jack is.

Mrs. Norbury. There are a few like that. They're rare and scarce.

(_Knock at street door,_)

(_She rises._) I'm nearest.

Mrs. Metherell (_rising_). Sit you still. (_Crosses and opens door._)

(_Elsie and Edmund are there._)

Edmund. Mrs. Metherell?

Mrs. Metherell (_gruffly_). Yes?

(_Immediately on the "Yes," Elsie enters past her._)

Edmund. May we come in?

Mrs. Metherell. Looks as if you were in.

(_Edmund enters hesitatingly._)

Elsie. Have you heard about Jack's accident?

(_Mrs. Wilmot and Mrs. Norbury remain seated, eyeing Elsie's clothes._)

Mrs. Metherell (_closing door calmly_). Yes. There was a special out. They get papers out for anything nowadays.

Elsie (_indignantly_). You take it very easily.

Mrs. Metherell. He'll be looked after. There's a doctor on the ground.

Edmund (_politely awkward_). Perhaps I ought to introduce myself, Mrs. Metherell. My name is Whitworth--Mr. Austin Whitworth's brother. This is Miss Whitworth.

Mrs. Metherell (_with some anxiety_). Is Jack hurt worse?

Elsie (_gravely_). Not that we _know_ of.

Mrs. Wilmot (_rising_). I think we'd best be going. Mrs. Metherell. No. It's all right.

Mrs. Norbury (_rising and tying bonnet-strings_), I can see we're not wanted. We'll be seeing you again before you flit to Birchester.

Mrs. Metherell (_by door with them_). Many a time. We don't go yet. (_Opening door._)

Mrs. Wilmot. Good-bye.

Mrs. Metherell. Good-bye.

(_Exeunt Mrs. Wilmot and Mrs. Norbury. Mrs. Metherell closes door and turns to Elsie._)

Now, what is it? If it's bad news I can stand it.

Elsie. Is Jack's bed prepared?

Mrs. Metherell (_righteously indignant_). Jack's bed was made at eight o'clock this morning. Do you take me for a slut?

Elsie. Oh yes, but he'll need special nursing, and the room--which is his room? (_Looking at doors left and right._)

Mrs. Metherell (_drily_). His room's upstairs.

Elsie. I'm going to see that it's right.

Mrs. Metherell. His room's my job.

Elsie. Yes, yes. I know. But I must make sure. Don't you realize he's gone on playing with a broken arm?

Mrs. Metherell. He was always a fool. But he's not so soft as to take to his bed for a damaged arm.

Elsie (_wildly_). Anything may have happened. Complications. Fever. I'm going to his room. Which is it, please?

Mrs. Metherell (_guarding the door_). You're not going. Elsie. I am. Please don't be stupid, Mrs. Metherell. Edmund. Elsie!

Mrs. Metherell. Do you think I'll have a girl I've never set eyes on before ferreting round my house?

Elsie. But--oh, you tell her, uncle. (_Darts past Mrs. Metherell and exit._)

Mrs. Metherell (_calling after her_). Here, you come back. Cheek!

Edmund. I think perhaps in the circumstances, Mrs. Metherell----

Mrs. Metherell (_with the door handle in her hand_). What circumstances?

Edmund. Don't you know about my niece?

Mrs. Metherell. I know she's a forward hussy, like most young girls to-day. That's all I know.

Edmund. Then I must explain.

Mrs. Metherell (_glancing off_). You'd better.

Edmund. You see, she and your son are engaged to be married.

Mrs. Metherell (_pausing, astonished, then closing door_). It's the first I've heard of it.

Edmund (_pleased to find her hostile_). Perhaps I ought rather to say they think they're engaged.

Mrs. Metherell. No. You oughtn't. Jack doesn't think he's tied to any woman till he's told me first and got my leave.

Edmund (_delighted_). Ah, now that's quite splendid, Mrs. Metherell. I'm glad to find that you agree with me.

Mrs. Metherell. In what?

Edmund. In opposing the engagement.

Mrs. Metherell. Why do you?

Edmund (_easily_). Well, on grounds, shall we say, of general unsuitability.

Mrs. Metherell. I don't oppose. (_Sitting in rocking-chair._)

(_Edmund remains standing._)

Edmund. I understood----

Mrs. Metherell. I don't know owt about the girl. She's made a bad start with me, but she's excited and I'll give fair play. She may be good enough for Jack. I cannot tell you yet. What makes you think she isn't?

Edmund. I didn't exactly think that.

Mrs. Metherell. What did you think? Out with it. You're her uncle, you know more about the girl than I can.

Edmund. Well, the fact is I don't consider she would be a suitable wife for your son.

Mrs. Metherell. That's what you said before. I want to know why not. Has she a temper?

Edmund (_on his dignity_). Certainly not.

Mrs. Metherell. Flirts then? Not steady? Extravagant?

Edmund. No, no.

Mrs. Metherell. Well, is she deformed or does she drink?

Edmund. Good heavens, woman, no.

Mrs. Metherell. If you won't tell me what's wrong with her, I must find out for myself.

Edmund. There is nothing wrong with her.

Mrs. Metherell. Then, where's your objection?

Edmund. My objection, stated explicitly, is---- (_Hesitating._)

Mrs. Metherell. Yes? Go on.

Edmund. I find it rather difficult to explain to you.

Mrs. Metherell. I've a thick skin.

Edmund (_desperately_). My niece's training and upbringing do not make her a fit wife for your son, Mrs. Metherell.

Mrs. Metherell. Did you make a mess of her upbringing?

Edmund. No, but----

Mrs. Metherell. How did you bring her up?

Edmund. As a lady.

Mrs. Metherell. Then she's handicapped for life. But I have seen some grow out of it.

(_Enter Elsie. She has a towel over her arm._)

Elsie. Mrs. Metherell, will you come upstairs a minute?

Mrs. Metherell. What for?

Elsie. We ought to have hot water ready and I can't find the bath-room.

Mrs. Metherell. You'd have a job to find one in Elizabeth Street.

Elsie (_blankly_). How do you get hot water?

Mrs. Metherell (_drily_). You heat it.

(_Edmund stands, looking on._)

Elsie (_crossing to fireplace and making for kettle_). Then I'll take this.

Mrs. Metherell (_rising and getting kettle first_). That's for his tea. (_Glancing at clock, kettle in hand._) I'll make it too. He always comes in hungry from a match. (_She replaces kettle, takes tea-pot from table, empties the used tea-leaves behind the fire, fills generously from canister on mantel and makes tea, replacing kettle and leaving tea-pot on the hob._)

Elsie. Oh, what have you got for him? He'll need nourishing.

Mrs. Metherell. There's a bit of steak-pie in the cupboard left over from dinner. He'll have it cold.

Elsie. But meat is so indigestible with tea, and he's an invalid.

(_Edmund sits on sofa._)

Mrs. Metherell. Eh, stop moithering, lass. You don't know owt about it. (_Suddenly noticing._) What's that over your arm?

Elsie. Oh, I'm sorry. It was upstairs.

Mrs. Metherell. That's my towel when you've done with it. (_Takes it, then surprised._) Where did you get this from?

Elsie. The bedroom.

Mrs. Metherell. That's one of my best towels. It isn't out of Jack's room.

Elsie. I've arranged the front bedroom for him.

Mrs. Metherell (_angrily_). I'd have you to know that's my room.

Elsie. The other is such a cheerless, poky little place. It's dark, there's no fireplace, no proper carpet, nothing but a camp-bed and a second-hand bookstall.

Mrs. Metherell. It's good enough for him.

Elsie. Nothing but the best is good enough for a man who plays football like Jack.

Mrs. Metherell. Football's one thing. Home's another. He's at home here. Do you think he sleeps in the best bedroom?

Elsie. He must have the best-lighted room just now.

Mrs. Metherell. So I'm to turn out for him, am I?

Elsie. That isn't asking very much. I don't believe you care for him at all. How can you sit at home when he's playing football?

Mrs. Metherell. Custom's everything. (_Sitting in rocking-chair._) I'm used to my men being before the public. Jack's father was a public man--an undertaker, (_Edmund winces_) and I've known him have as many as six funerals on a Saturday afternoon, but I didn't go to the cemetery to see he buried them properly, and I reckon it's the same with Jack. He can kick a ball without my watching him. (_Changing tone._) And now perhaps you'll tell me what you mean by interfering in my house?

Elsie (_to Edmund_). Haven't you told her, uncle?

Edmund. Oh yes. I told her.

Elsie (_smilingly sure of herself_). Well, Mrs. Metherell, will I do? (_Standing before her._)

Mrs. Metherell (_still sitting_). You said yourself just now that nothing but the best is good enough for Jack, so you'll excuse my being particular. I've been asking your uncle about you and he tells me you're a lady, born and bred.

Elsie. You mustn't blame me for my relations, Mrs. Metherell.

Mrs. Metherell. Nay, I don't. Mine's a respectable family, but there's a Metherell doing time at this moment, and another to my certain knowledge who ought to be. But this is where it comes in. If you're going to be Jack's wife, you've to know your way about a house.

Elsie (_agreeing_). Yes.

Mrs. Metherell. Your father _'_ull keep a servant, I suppose.

Elsie. Oh, but I do my share. Servants require a lot of management.

Mrs. Metherell (_dryly_). I'll take your word for it. I never had any. And Jack _'_ull have none, either.

Elsie. I didn't expect it.

Mrs. Metherell (_graciously_). You may be handier than you look. I'll try. Those pots want washing. Let me see you shape.

(_Elsie eagerly begins to put the used cups together._)

There's a tray. (_Pointing to plate-rack._) The sink's in yonder. (_Pointing._)

Edmund (_protesting_). Really, Mrs. Metherell---- (_He rises._)

Elsie. It's all right, uncle. (_The tray is loaded and she lifts it._) In there, Mrs. Metherell? (_Starting to go._) Mrs. Metherell. Yes.

(_Edmund opens door. Elsie is going through._)

That'll not do. You won't have a man about the place to wait on you. Close that door, Mr. Whitworth, and let me see her get out by herself.

(_Edmund closes it, and comes away. Elsie tries to open it, the tray is troublesome and the pots slip together on it. Mrs. Metherell rises and crosses rapidly._)

Those are my cups, you know. Here, give it to me. (_Takes tray and exit, opening door with the ease of familiarity._) Elsie. I'm sorry, Mrs. Metherell. But I can learn. Mrs. Metherell (_off_). Maybe. You've shown willing. (_She closes door from outside._)

Edmund. Come away, Elsie. You've seen enough of the Metherell standard to show you it will never do.

Elsie (_her confidence a little shaken, but still fighting_). I shall alter the standard.

Edmund. It's fixed. You can't alter it. It's impossible. Elsie. The modern eye is blind to impossibilities. Have you ever been to an Ideal Home Exhibition?

Edmund. A what?

Elsie. They show you little houses fitted up with the cutest dodges for saving labour. I know Mrs. Metherell will have to make her home with us, but it'll be a very different home from this. You can credit me with some imagination.

Edmund. I do, if you think Mrs. Metherell will ever believe her house is clean unless she or some one else has drudged in it all day. Seeing's believing, and you can't see the dust fly in a vacuum cleaner.

Elsie. She'll have to use her common sense.

Edmund. The scrubbing brush survives in spite of common sense.

(_Enter Jack, dressed as Act I., left arm in splint. He opens and enters without knocking, but he hasn't time to get his cap off before Elsie is with him._)

Elsie. You're safe.

Jack. And sound, too, but for this. (_Glancing at his arm._)

Elsie (_hysterically_). Thank God.

Edmund. Is the match over?

Jack. Three--two for Birchester.

Edmund (_distressed_). Birchester have won!

Jack. I won the match for Birchester, if it gives you any satisfaction to know it. I haven't been a man. I've been a miracle.

Elsie. You always were.

Jack. I've only done my human best before to-day. To-day I've been a superman, a thing inspired, protected guarded by a greater mastery than I have ever known. It wasn't football as it is in life. It's been the football of my dreams.

Edmund. It makes you talk.

Jack. I'm still intoxicated with the glamour of that game.

Edmund. Yes, Metherell, success is sweet. But somebody is suffering for this.

Elsie. Who?

Edmund. If Birchester have won, Blackton have lost.

Elsie. For an outsider, you take it seriously.

Edmund. I take it seriously for your father. I ought to be with him now.

Elsie. Haven't you done enough here for the proprieties?

Edmund. I must go to your father, Elsie. Come.

Elsie. I stay here with Jack.

Edmund (_after a struggle_). Very well.

(_Exit Edmund._)

Jack (_taking cap off_). Elsie, what are you doing here?

Elsie. I came to--to see your mother.

Jack. You've told her about us?

Elsie. Yes.

Jack. It should have come from me. She'd expect that. But no matter, now she knows. What did she say?

Elsie (_hesitating, then plunging_). It's--it's all right, Jack.

Jack. Hurrah! Then we've a clear road now. I was a bit afraid. Mother has a will of her own, and she's not easy to please. But I might have known she couldn't resist you. Tell me what she said when you pleaded to her with the loveliest eyes in the world and told her you loved me.

Elsie (_awkwardly_). Well----

Jack (_interrupting enthusiastically_). Yes, I know--you needn't tell me. I can see it all. You there, she here, and then you fell into each other's arms, and she kissed you, and what you said to each other I'm not to know, for it was women's talk not meant for men to hear.

Elsie. Jack, you've never been like this before.

Jack. No, I've never played a great game with a broken arm and come through it unscathed. I've never--oh, but it's you that's done the greatest thing for me. You've won my mother for us. That was the cloud that used to get between.

Elsie. And made you talk of self-improvement instead of my eyes? It's only now I learn you know my eyes are good.

Jack. I have always known the beauty of your eyes.

Elsie. You couldn't tell me about them.

Jack. Not till it was all made right with mother. I thought last night to-day would be the saddest day I've known. I had to play for Birchester and go away from Blackton and from you. And there was mother, but you were brave and took that burden from me, and I'm glad, Elsie, I'm glad of everything.

Elsie. Even of that? (_Touching his arm._)

Jack. It's brought me luck. It's brought me you, safely secure at last. I wish I had a dozen arms to break.

Elsie (_smiling_). To get a dozen me's?

Jack. To suffer with for you.

Elsie (_quickly_). You are suffering?

Jack. This bit of pain is nothing to a bad conscience, and it's that I had meeting you and knowing I'd not the pluck to have it out with mother. (_With a touch of brutality._) But now I've got you for my own. No, not a dozen of you, Elsie. One's good enough for me. (_He puts his arm round her, kissing roughly._)

Elsie (_frightened_). Jack, you're very strong.

Jack (_squeezing masterfully_). I've only one arm, but it's strong.

Elsie. I love your strength, Jack, but you do take my breath away. You've never kissed me like that before.

Jack (_still holding her against her will_). I've not been free before. I've kissed you guiltily, not as a free man kisses when he can give his whole mind to it.

Elsie. Jack, let me go.

Jack. Don't you like it? I said you'd be the first to tire of kissing.

Elsie (_free of him_). It's--it's almost terrifying, Jack.

Jack (_roughly_). Rubbish, lass, you're not made of glass. You can stand it. I needn't kiss you like I kiss my mother.

Elsie. How do you kiss your mother?

Jack. Why, respectfully.

Elsie. You don't respect me, then?

Jack. It's not the same. I love you.

Elsie (_rather more hopefully_). And you don't love her?

Jack. It's different. Where is she now?

Elsie (_indicating_). She went in there to wash some pots.

Jack (_nodding, anxiously_). She does too much of that. The work comes heavy at her age.

Elsie. We'll change all that.

Jack (_eagerly_). Yes. Four hands _'_ull make it easy.

Elsie. My methods will be very different.

Jack. Different? She'll not like changing her ways. Old people don't like change.

Elsie (_callously_). No, but it's good for them.

Jack. My getting married _'_ull be change enough. We must be careful not to upset her.

Elsie. You're very fond of your mother, Jack.

Jack. I try to do my duty.

Elsie (_gladly_). It's only duty, then?

Jack. Only! Honour thy father and thy mother that--

Elsie. Yes, but I don't want to make old bones. And that honouring business is a bit fly-blown. We spell it humour your parents nowadays and not too much of that. A badly brought up parent's worse than a spoilt child.

Jack. Of course, you're joking, Elsie, and I know I'm not a judge of taste, but I don't somehow think we ought to make fun of our parents.

Elsie. I wasn't joking, Jack. If your mother's going to stay with us, she'll have to realize the century she's living in.

Jack (_reprovingly_). My mother's mistress of this house, Elsie.

Elsie. This house. Yes. But we're going to be happy in a cottage on the moors by Birchester, and if people who've forgotten what it is to be young try any interference, so much the worse for them.

Jack (_angrily_). Did you tell her that before you asked about the marrying?

Elsie. Tell her what?

Jack. That you expected her to take a back seat and watch you interfering with her arrangements?

Elsie. Interfering's not the word. They'll be revolutionized. Our cottage will be run on rational and hygienic principles.

Jack. I'd rather have it comfortable.

Elsie. It will be comfortable.

Jack. With you and her squabbling all the time?

Elsie (_very discouraged, but still brave_). We shan't squabble if she'll be sensible.

Jack. Her idea of sense mayn't be the same as yours.

Elsie. It probably won't. It's all right, Jack. I've had practice in handling parents.

Jack. I've seen a bit of it, too. You shan't treat mother that way. If we're to marry, Elsie--

Elsie. _If_ we're to marry!

Jack. My mother's first with me. I take my orders from her and you'll just have to do the same.

(_Enter Mrs. Metherell. She has an apron on which she wipes her hands and then takes it off, hanging up behind door._)

Mrs. Metherell. So you've broken your arm, I hear.

Jack (_his attitude is that of a weak-willed child. He almost cowers before her_). Yes, mother.

Mrs. Metherell. Wasn't there work enough with a flitting without fetching and carrying for you? Who's going to break the coals now?

Elsie. Mrs. Metherell!

Jack. It's all right, Elsie. It's just her way.

Mrs. Metherell (_turning on Elsie_). And you've been turning my house upside down upstairs. A lot of need you have to talk, my girl. You've been in here ten minutes with a famished man and not so much as lifted a hand to put out his food. I told you where it was.

Elsie. I'm sorry. (_Going in terrified alacrity to cupboard, and finding plate of cold steak pie, which she puts on table._)

Mrs. Metherell (_with rough kindness_). Sit you down, Jack. (_Lifts teapot to table and pours._)

Elsie. Oh, that tea's been made so long.

Jack. I like it black.

Elsie. I'm sure Jack ought to have----

Mrs. Metherell. Jack _'_ull have what I provide for him, and be thankful he's got it.

(_Elsie fusses over Jack's plate, cutting up small._)

Elsie (_to Jack_). You'll be having late dinners in a month.

(_Mrs. Metherell is returning teapot to hob._)

Jack. She'll never let us.

Mrs. Metherell (_returning_). I'll do that.

(_Elsie moves away._)

If he's to be spoon-fed, I'll feed him.

Elsie (_timidly_). I was doing it to help you, Mrs. Metherell.

Mrs. Metherell. You were doing it to show how fond you are. What's this I hear about you, Jack?

Jack (_his mouth full_). Well, she's told you.

Mrs. Metherell. Hadn't you a tongue in your own mouth?

Jack. I'd have told you to-night.

Mrs. Metherell. Going courting behind my back.

Jack. You will have your grumble, mother.

Mrs. Metiierell. I'd do more than grumble if you hadn't gone and hurt yourself. You might have done it on purpose just to get on the soft side of me.

Elsie. Is this your soft side, Mrs. Metiierell?

Mrs. Metiierell. Yes. Company manners. I'm keeping what I have to say to Jack till you've gone.

Elsie. Jack's ill. You're not to bully him.

Mrs. Metherell. Is he your son or mine? Because if he's mine I'll not ask your leave to say what I like to him. I'm mistress here.

Else. Yes, but, Mrs. Metherell----

Mrs. Metiierell. That'll do from you. I've had enough of your back answers. You talk too much.

(_Knock at door. Mrs. Metherell, eyeing Elsie as she goes, opens door. Austin is outside._)

Austin. Mrs. Metherell?

Mrs. Metherell. Yes.

Elsie (_coming forward on hearing the voice_). Father! Austin. You here, Elsie! (_Entering--to Mrs. Metherell._) Thank you.

(_Mrs. Metherell closes door grimly._)

Well, Metherell, I've come to see how you are.

Jack (_rising_). I wasn't carried off the field, but it isn't you I have to thank for it.

Austin (_sincerely_). No. It's your own magnificent skill. I never saw such play.

Mrs. Metiierell (_coming between them_). You'll excuse me, but I don't allow that kind of talk in here.

Austin (_surprised_). But I was praising your son, Mrs. Metherell.

Mrs. Metherell. He's buttered up too much outside. In here he get's his makeweight of the other thing.

Jack. There's no more praise for me in this town, mother. I'm not popular. They've lost a lot of money on this match.

Mrs. Metherell. Was that your fault?

Jack. I played for Birchester. The bets were made on Blackton before they knew I was transferred.

Mrs. Metherell (_indignantly_). They're blaming _you_ for that?

Austin. Fair weather sportsmen!

Jack. There's no denying I won the match for Birchester.

Mrs. Metherell (_indignantly_). Whose fault was it you played for Birchester? Yours? No. There stands the man you have to thank for that.

Austin (_taken aback_). Really, Mrs. Metherell, I was hardly prepared----

Mrs. Metherell (_accusingly_). You've made my Jack unpopular. That's what you've done. (_Looking at Jack proudly, while he expresses blank astonishment._) There never was a favourite like Jack. Not a man in the whole of Blackton but looked up to Jack, nor a woman but envied me my son.

Jack. But, mother, I didn't know you cared. You've always----

Mrs. Metherell. You didn't know I cared! Because I haven't gone and shouted with the others round the field, because I haven't dinned it in your ears and did my level best to stop them spoiling you, do you think I took no pride in knowing you're the idol of the town? I'll show you if I care. Out of that door, Mr. Whitworth. Out of that door, I say. You've brought trouble on this house.

Austin. Really, this is very embarrassing.

Mrs. Metherell. I'll embarrass you. You've made my Jack unpopular. What do you want here? Your daughter? Take her and go.

Austin. What I wanted was a little private conversation with your son, Mrs Metherell.

Mrs. Metiierell. You've finished with my son. You're not his master now.

Austin. No. But as a friend, I hoped----

Mrs. Metherell. And you're not his friend.

Austin. I can't make things clear if you won't let me, Mrs. Metherell.

Mrs. Metherell. They're clear enough.

Austin (_desperately_). Metherell, will you do me the favour of stepping outside with me for three minutes' business conversation?

Mrs. Metherell (_scoffing_). Business!

Elsie. You have no business now with Jack that doesn't include me. If Jack goes, I go.

Austin. This includes you.

Mrs. Metherell. Jack doesn't go. Jack stays where he is.

Austin (_trying to be dignified_). Do you know who I am?

Mrs. Metherell. You're the man who's flitting me to Birchester. Turning me out of my house, me that's lived in Blackton all my life, to go to a strange town and buy in strange shops where'll they rob me, and live beside strangers instead of here where everybody knew me for the mother of Jack Metherell.

Elsie. But from what Jack says, Mrs. Metherell, Black-ton won't be very pleasant for you now.

Mrs. Metherell (_hotly_). Who's made it so?

Austin. Mrs. Metherell, can't we be friends? I've always been on friendly terms in Club affairs with Jack, until to-day.

Mrs. Metherell. A lot can happen in a day.

Austin. Yes. To-day the club has died.

Elsie. Died!

Austin. Yes. You know something of what the club has meant to me. I made it, built it, fostered it, and now it's dead. There's been a meeting since the match. The other directors had pence in where I had pounds. They won't put another farthing down to save the club, and I can't. I'm ruined. But that isn't what I'm here for now. I've lost to-day a greater thing than money.

Elsie. Ruined! Father, what do you mean?

Mrs. Metherell. You needn't fret. Ruined is a way of talking. He'll have a nest-egg left to pay your servants and your milliner's bills.

Austin. No. It means literally ruined. Metherell has cause to know my case was pretty desperate.

Jack. I didn't know how bad.

Austin. Could you have acted any differently if you had?

Jack. You know I couldn't.

Austin (_sincerely_). No. You've showed up well to-day, and I've showed badly.

Jack (_sympathetically_). You were in a hole.

Austin. A man can never tell beforehand what he'll do in a tight corner, but he can be ashamed afterwards if he's done the wrong thing. And I'm--I'm trying now to snatch some rags of self-respect. Won't you help me, Mrs. Metherell?

Mrs. Metherell (_graciously_). Well, maybe a drowning man can't be particular what straw he clutches at. What can I do?

Austin. Jack was the straw I clutched. I tempted him, and, to his honour and my own dishonour, he withstood me. But I owe him reparation, and I want to pay. If I can see these two young people happy, I shan't feel utterly debased. I shall have rescued from the wreck enough to give me back my soul.

Mrs. Metherell (_hardening again_). That's a grand high way to talk about a bit of conscience-money.

Austin (_humbly_). Yes, call it conscience-money if you like, although I have no money now, and money won't buy me back my peace of mind. I'm going to do the one thing in my power to right the wrong I did to Jack this afternoon. I'm going to put this marriage through.

Mrs. Metherell (_ironically_). Oh? What marriage may that be?

Austin. Don't you know?

Elsie. Of course she knows.

Austin. Then that's all right, and a load's gone off my mind.

Elsie. One moment, father.

Austin. Yes. What is it?

Elsie. I'm not so confident about it as I was.

Austin. As you were when? It's not an hour since you defied the world to stand between you and Jack.

Elsie. It's not the world that stands between. It's Mrs. Metherell.

Jack. Elsie! (_Going towards her, then standing bewildered._)

Austin. Mrs. Metherell! (_Turning to her genially_). Oh, come, we parents have to make this sacrifice to see our children happy.

Mrs. Metherell. I care as much about Jack's happiness as you.

Austin. Then we're unanimous. That's settled then.

Elsie, (_quietly_). Not quite.

Austin. Why not. (_Looking at Jack._) You told me my consent was all you wanted.

Mrs. Metherell (_eyeing Jack_). Did you?

Jack. No. I said I'd want yours too.

Austin. Of course. Well, you've got my consent now, freely, gladly given.

Jack. Yes, I wanted that.

Austin. Isn't that everything?

Elsie. No. I've been thinking.

Austin. I thought you knew your own mind, Elsie.

Elsie. I didn't know Mrs. Metherell. Perhaps I didn't know Jack.

Austin (_still with confidence_). There's been some lovers' tiff between you. Come, Elsie, I divided you this afternoon. Let me unite you now. What is the difficulty? I'm sure it's just a temporary trifle.

Elsie. Whether it's temporary depends on how long Mrs. Metherell proposes to live.

Mrs. Metherell (_enjoying herself_). I'm hearty, thank you. Mine's a long-lived family.

Austin (_brushing the difficulty aside_). Mrs. Metherell won't stand in your way, Elsie.

Mrs. Metherell. Speak for yourself.

Austin. Oh, now I see. You're feeling as I did. It took me by surprise. But I'm converted now, and you'll find you'll soon grow used to the idea. Once you and I were young ourselves, and----

Elsie. Father, it's no use talking to Mrs. Metherell as if she was a reasonable being. It rests with Jack to choose.

Jack. To choose?

Elsie. Yes. Me or your mother. Which is it to be?

Jack. I--I don't know. (_Glancing shiftily at Mrs. Metherell._)

Mrs. Metherell (_menacingly_). You'd better know, and sharp.

Jack. She's my mother, Elsie.

Elsie. Yes. Who comes first? Your mother or the woman you--the woman I used to think you loved.

Jack (_hurt_). Elsie, you know I love you.

Elsie. Do I? Is it love? Love hasn't widened your horizon. Love should break through, but you can't see beyond your mother for all your love.

Austin (_peace-making_). Elsie, you mustn't ask a man to make a choice like that. These relationships don't clash. They sort themselves out.

Elsie. That's all you know about it. If you'd been here earlier, you'd have seen the clash all right.

Austin. I didn't see it, but I know you're very capable of looking after yourself.

Elsie. Oh, I can manage you. And I can manage Jack. You're men, but----

Mrs. Metherell. You can't manage me.

Elsie (_agreeing_). I've met my match.

Austin (_earnestly_). Elsie, I've set my heart on seeing you happy. My future's black. I see no future for myself at all, but I hoped that this one satisfaction would be granted me. You wanted Jack.

Elsie. Yes, but----

Austin. Do you still want him?

Elsie. He's got a mother.

Austin. Never mind her. Do you want him?

Elsie. Yes. By himself.

Austin. Very well. Metherell, do you want her?

Jack. My mother doesn't want me to want her.

Austin. No. But do you?

Jack. It's like this----

Elsie. It's no good, father. If wishing could kill Mrs. Metherell, she'd be dead at my feet.

Jack. Elsie!

Mrs. Metherell. Plain speaking breaks no bones. I can give as good as I get.

Austin. May I speak plainly, then? Frankly, don't you think your attitude is selfish. We've all to see our children go from us, or the world would never get on. Let me appeal to you--and I think you will acknowledge that a man of my position is not accustomed to appeal to a woman of--well, you'll admit the difference between us, and the fact that I make very earnestly this petition should----

Mrs. Metherell. Yes. I'll admit the difference between us. You're ruined. I'm not.

Austin (_taken aback_). Ruined!

Mrs. Metherell. Didn't you say so?

Austin (_bitterly_). Yes. I'm ruined.

Mrs. Metherell. You've a family. It's a good lift to a ruined man with a family to get a daughter off his hands. That's why you've come to push her on to us. We mayn't be swells, but we can keep her, and that's more than you can do, so----

Austin (_to Jack_). Metherell, you don't believe that, do you?

Jack (_avoiding Mrs. Metherell's eye_). No. I think you're sorry you forgot yourself this morning.

Austin. I've done my best to make amends.

Jack. Yes.

Austin. Is it----?

Elsie. Yes, father. It's impossible.

Jack. Elsie!

Elsie (_to Jack_). Isn't it impossible?

Jack (_after a pause while he looks from Elsie to Mrs. Metherell, finally meeting Mrs. Metherell's eye and bending his head._) Yes.

(_Edmund knocks and enters without waiting._)

Edmund. May I come in?

Austin. You here, Edmund!

Edmund. I came back for Elsie. I've been looking for you everywhere.

Mrs. Metherell. Well, now you've found him, you'd better take him away. I'll be charging some of you rent for the use of my room.

Edmund. But what's happened?

Elsie. Oh, you've won.

Edmund. I've won?

Elsie. Yes. The old guard. You and Mrs. Metherell.

Mrs. Metherell. Yes. You saw it wouldn't do. You're the only Whitworth in your senses.

Edmund. Thank you, Mrs. Metherell.

Austin (_cornering Edmund, anxiously_). You know we lost the match.

Edmund. Yes. What are you going to do?

Austin. I've not had time to think about myself. This affair came first.

Edmund. Well, this is where I come in.

Austin (_with a touch of an elder brother's contempt_). What can you do? The club's wound up.

Edmund. If I like, I can do a good deal. I'm a bachelor with a good city practice, and no expensive hobbies, Austin.

Austin (_bitterly_). I never thought it would come to this. My young brother.

Edmund. Not so young. Oh, if it stings a bit, perhaps it ought to. You'd the old man's house and the lion's share of his money, and I've got to pull you out of the hole you dug yourself. There's only one person who'll like it less than you, and that's my energetic nephew.

Austin. Leo!

Edmund. I'll present Master Leo with his articles. The law's a splendid cure for lungs and laziness.

Jack (_approaching Edmund_). Mr. Whitworth, there's no ill feeling, is there?

Edmund. Not a bit.

Jack. And Mr. Austin fancies he owes me something.

Edmund. Oh?

Austin. I have that bribery business badly on my mind.

Edmund. What do you want, Metherell?

Jack. I'm a man with ambitions, sir, and I heard what you said about Mr. Leo. Would you give me my articles?

Edmund. My friend, you're an excellent footballer, but you'd make a shocking lawyer with that delicate conscience of yours.

Mrs. Metherell. You'll go on living honestly, Jack.

Jack (_submissively_). Yes, mother.

Mrs. Metherell. And when you marry I'll choose you a decent hard-working girl who'll look after you properly, and not a butter-fingered lass who'll break your crockery and want waiting on hand and foot and----

Edmund. Mrs. Metherell!

Mrs. Metherell. Oh, I forgot you were there. I was just talking privately to my son, same as you've been doing amongst yourselves.

Edmund. We've earned that. I beg your pardon, Mrs. Metherell.

Elsie. Good-bye, Jack.

Jack (_taking her hand_). Good-bye, Miss Whitworth.

(_Elsie turns her face away. Edmund opens door._)

Austin (_shaking his hand_). Metherell, I'm sorry.

Jack. You did your best to make it right.

(_Exit Austin._)

Edmund (_at door_). Elsie.

Elsie (_going to him_). Yes, uncle?

Edmund (_going out with his arm round her_). London! (_Elsie smiles gladly at him as they go out. Mrs. Metherell places teapot on table. Jack sits and resumes his tea._)

CURTAIN.

Note.--_The "transfer" of a football player from one team to another cannot now be made with the rapidity shown in this play. At the time when "The Game" was written, such a transfer was possible. A year or two earlier, indeed transfers were made at least as quickly as in the play--and one is allowed a certain licence of compression in a play. The instance in point is recorded in the "World's Work" for September, 1912, In an article entitled, "Is Football a Business?"_

_Mr. J. J. Bentley, ex-president and life member of the Football League, tells how he effected the transfer of a player named Charles Roberts from Grimsby to Manchester United on a Friday night, the player being at Grimsby, and Mr. Bentley in London. The matter was settled by telephone at midnight, and in sixteen hours after signing Roberts appeared in the Manchester United Colours._

*****

THE NORTHERNERS

A DRAMA OF THE EIGHTEEN-TWENTIES

CHARACTERS.

_Factory Owners_. Ephraim Barlow; John Heppenstall

Guy Barlow, _Ephraim's son_.

Captain Las celles.

Matthew Butterworth

_Weavers_. Martin Kelsall; Joseph Healey; Henri Callard

Mary Butterworth, _Matthew's wife._

Ruth Butterworth, _his daughter._

_The Scene is laid in Lancashire in 1820_.