Part 18 (1/2)

JUDITH: Not your home now.

JIM: Then who the devil's home ...

JUDITH: It's Ruth's and Michael's.

JIM: My daughter's and her man's: their home's my home.

JUDITH: You shall not stay.

JIM: It's got to ”shall not” now?

The cuckoo's changed his tune; but I can't say I like the new note better: it's too harsh: The gowk's grown croupy. But, la.s.s, I never thought You'd be harsh with me: yet even you've turned raspy ...

First ”cannot,” then ...

JUDITH: Nay! I'll not have their home Pulled down about their ears by any man; And least of all by you--the home they've made ...

JIM: Stolen, I'd say.

JUDITH: Together, for themselves And their three boys.

JIM: Jim, granddad three times over?

It's well you broke it piecemeal: the old callant's A waffly heart; and any sudden joy Just sets it twittering: but the more the merrier!

JUDITH: You shall not wreck their happiness. I'd not dreamed Such happiness as theirs could be in this world.

Since it was built, there's not been such a home At Krindlesyke: it's only been a house ...

JIM: 'Twas just about as homely as a hea.r.s.e In my young days: but my luck's turned, it seems.

JUDITH: It takes more than four walls to make a home, And such a home as Michael's made for Ruth.

Though she's a fendy la.s.s; she's too like me, And needs a helpmate, or she'll waste herself; And, with another man, she might have wrecked, Instead of building. She's got her man, her mate: Husband and father, born, day in, day out, He works to keep a home for wife and weans.

There's never been a luckier la.s.s than Ruth: Though she deserves it, too; and it's but seldom Good la.s.ses are the lucky ones; and few Get their deserts in this life.

JIM: True, egox!

JUDITH: Few, good or bad. But Ruth has everything-- A home, a steady husband, and her boys.

There never were such boys.

JIM: A pretty picture: It takes my fancy: and the dear old grannie, Why do you leave her out? And there's a corner For granddad in it, surely--an armchair On the other side of the ingle, with a pipe And packet of twist, and a pot of nappy beer, Hot-fettled four-ale, handy on the hob?

Ay: there's the chair: I'd best secure it now.

(_As he seats himself, with his back to the door, the head of BELL HAGGARD, in her orange-coloured kerchief, peeps round the jamb: then slowly withdraws, unseen of JIM or JUDITH._)

JIM: Fetch up the swipes and s.h.a.g. I can reach the cutty ...

(_He takes down MICHAEL's pipe from the mantel-shelf; and sticks it between his teeth: but JUDITH s.n.a.t.c.hes at it, breaking the stem, and flings the bowl on the fire._)

JUDITH: And you, to touch his pipe!

(_JIM stares at her, startled, as she stands before him, with drawn face and set teeth: then, still eyeing her uneasily, begins to bl.u.s.ter._)

JIM: You scarting randy!

I'll teach you manners. That's a good three-halfpence Smashed into smithereens: and all for nothing.

I've lammed a wench for less. I've half a mind To snap you like the stopple, you yackey-yaa!

De'il rive your sark! It's long since I've had the price Of a clay in my pouch: and I'm half-dead for a puff.

What's taken you? What's set you agee with me?

You used to like me; and you always seemed A menseful body: and I lippened to you.