The kitchen of a miner's small cottage. On the left is the fireplace, with a deep, full red fire. At the back is a white-curtained window, and beside it the outer door of the room. On the right, two white wooden stairs intrude into the kitchen below the closed stair foot door. On the left, another door.
The room is furnished with a chintz-backed sofa under the window, a glass-knobbed painted dresser on the right, and in the centre, toward the fire, a table with a red and blue check tablecloth. On one side of the hearth is a wooden rocking-chair, on the other an armchair of round staves. An unlighted copper-shaded lamp hangs from the raftered ceiling. It is dark twilight, with the room full of warm fireglow. A woman enters from the outer door. As she leaves the door open behind her, the colliery rail can be seen not far from the threshold, and, away back, the headstocks of a pit.
The woman is tall and voluptuously built. She carries a basket heaped full of washing, which she has just taken from the clotheslines outside. Setting down the basket heavily, she feels among the clothes.[4] She lifts out a white heap of sheets and other linen, setting it on the table; then she takes a woollen shirt in her hand.
MRS. HOLROYD (aloud, to herself)
You know they're not dry even now, though it's been as fine as it has. (She spreads the shirt on the back of her rocking-chair, which she turns to the fire)
VOICE (calling from outside)
Well, have you got them dry?
[Mrs. Holroyd starts up, turns and flings her hand in the direction of the open door, where appears a man in blue overalls, swarfed and greased. He carries a dinner-basket.
MRS. HOLROYD
You—you—I don't know what to call you! The idea of shouting at me like that—like the Evil One out of the darkness!
BLACKMORE
I ought to have remembered your tender nerves. Shall I come in?
MRS. HOLROYD
No—not for your impudence. But you're late, aren't you?
BLACKMORE
It's only just gone six. We electricians, you know, we're the gentlemen on a mine: ours is gentlemen's work. But I'll bet Charles Holroyd was home before four.
MRS. HOLROYD (bitterly)
Ay, and gone again before five.
[5]
BLACKMORE
But mine's a lad's job, and I do nothing!—Where's he gone?
MRS. HOLROYD (contemptuously)
Dunno! He'd got a game on somewhere—toffed himself up to the nines, and skedaddled off as brisk as a turkey-cock. (She smirks in front of the mirror hanging on the chimney-piece, in imitation of a man brushing his hair and moustache and admiring himself)
BLACKMORE
Though turkey-cocks aren't brisk as a rule. Children playing?
MRS. HOLROYD (recovering herself, coldly)
Yes. And they ought to be in. (She continues placing the flannel garments before the fire, on the fender and on chair-backs, till the stove is hedged in with a steaming fence; then she takes a sheet in a bundle from the table, and going up to Blackmore, who stands watching her, says) Here, take hold, and help me fold it.
BLACKMORE
I shall swarf it up.
MRS. HOLROYD (snatching back the sheet)
Oh, you're as tiresome as everybody else.
BLACKMORE (putting down his basket and moving to door on right)
Well, I can soon wash my hands.
MRS. HOLROYD (ceasing to flap and fold pillowcases)
That roller-towel's ever so dirty. I'll get you another. (She goes to a drawer in the dresser, and then back toward the scullery, where is a sound of water)
[6]
BLACKMORE
Why, bless my life, I'm a lot dirtier than the towel. I don't want another.
MRS. HOLROYD (going into the scullery)
Here you are.
BLACKMORE (softly, now she is near him)
Why did you trouble now? Pride, you know, pride, nothing else.
MRS. HOLROYD (also playful)
It's nothing but decency.
BLACKMORE (softly)
Pride, pride, pride!
[A child of eight suddenly appears in the doorway.
JACK
Oo, how dark!
MRS. HOLROYD (hurrying agitated into the kitchen)
Why, where have you been—what have you been doing now?
JACK (surprised)
Why—I've only been out to play.
MRS. HOLROYD (still sharply)
And where's Minnie?
[A little girl of six appears by the door.
MINNIE
I'm here, mam, and what do you think—?
MRS. HOLROYD (softening, as she recovers equanimity)
Well, and what should I think?
JACK
Oh, yes, mam—you know my father—?
MRS. HOLROYD (ironically)
I should hope so.
MINNIE
We saw him dancing, mam, with a paper bonnet.
[7]
MRS. HOLROYD
What—?
JACK
There's some women at "New Inn," what's come from Nottingham—
MINNIE
An' he's dancin' with the pink one.
JACK
Shut up our Minnie. An' they've got paper bonnets on—
MINNIE
All colors, mam!
JACK (getting angry)
Shut up our Minnie! An' my dad's dancing with her.
MINNIE
With the pink-bonnet one, mam.
JACK
Up in the club-room over the bar.
MINNIE
An' she's a lot littler than him, mam.
JACK (piteously)
Shut up our Minnie—An' you can see 'em go past the window, 'cause there isn't no curtains up, an' my father's got the pink bonnet one—
MINNIE
An' there's a piano, mam—
JACK
An' lots of folks outside watchin', lookin' at my dad! He can dance, can't he, mam?
MRS. HOLROYD (she has been lighting the lamp, and holds the lamp-glass)
And who else is there?
[8]
MINNIE
Some more men—an' all the women with paper bonnets on.
JACK
There's about ten, I should think, an' they say they came in a brake from Nottingham.
[Mrs. Holroyd, trying to replace the lamp-glass over the flame, lets it drop on the floor with a smash.
JACK
There, now—now we 'll have to have a candle.
BLACKMORE (appearing in the scullery doorway with the towel) What's that—the lamp-glass?
JACK
I never knowed Mr. Blackmore was here.
BLACKMORE (to Mrs. Holroyd)
Have you got another?
MRS. HOLROYD
No. (There is silence for a moment) We can manage with a candle for to-night.
BLACKMORE (stepping forward and blowing out the smoky flame) I'll see if I can't get you one from the pit. I shan't be a minute.
MRS. HOLROYD
Don't—don't bother—I don't want you to.
[He, however, unscrews the burner and goes.
MINNIE
Did Mr. Blackmore come for tea, mam?
MRS. HOLROYD
No; he's had no tea.
JACK
I bet he's hungry. Can I have some bread?
[9]
MRS. HOLROYD (she stands a lighted candle on the table) Yes, and you can get your boots off to go to bed.
JACK
It's not seven o'clock yet.
MRS. HOLROYD
It doesn't matter.
MINNIE
What do they wear paper bonnets for, mam?
MRS. HOLROYD
Because they're brazen hussies.
JACK
I saw them having a glass of beer.
MRS. HOLROYD
A nice crew!
JACK
They say they are old pals of Mrs. Meakins. You could hear her screaming o' laughin', an' my dad says: "He-ah, missis—here—a dog's-nose for the Dachess—hopin' it'll smell samthing"—What's a dog's-nose?
MRS. HOLROYD (giving him a piece of bread and butter)
Don't ask me, child. How should I know?
MINNIE
Would she eat it, mam?
MRS. HOLROYD
Eat what?
MINNIE
Her in the pink bonnet—eat the dog's nose?
MRS. HOLROYD
No, of course not. How should I know what a dog's-nose is?
[10]
JACK
I bet he'll never go to work to-morrow, mother—will he?
MRS. HOLROYD
Goodness knows. I'm sick of it—disgracing me. There'll be the whole place cackling this now. They've no sooner finished about him getting taken up for fighting than they begin on this. But I'll put a stop to it some road or other. It's not going on, if I know it: it isn't.
[She stops, hearing footsteps, and Blackmore enters.
BLACKMORE
Here we are then—got one all right.
MINNIE
Did they give it you, Mr. Blackmore?
BLACKMORE
No, I took it.
[He screws on the burner and proceeds to light the lamp. He is a tall, slender, mobile man of twenty-seven, brown-haired, dressed in blue overalls. Jack Holroyd is a big, dark, ruddy, lusty lad. Minnie is also big, but fair.
MINNIE
What do you wear blue trousers for, Mr. Blackmore?
BLACKMORE
They're to keep my other trousers from getting greasy.
MINNIE
Why don't you wear pit-breeches, like dad's?
JACK
'Cause he's a 'lectrician. Could you make me a little injun what would make electric light?
[11]
BLACKMORE
I will, some day.
JACK
When?
MINNIE
Why don't you come an' live here?
BLACKMORE (looking swiftly at Mrs. Holroyd)
Nay, you've got your own dad to live here.
MINNIE (plaintively)
Well, you could come as well. Dad shouts when we've gone to bed, an' thumps the table. He wouldn't if you was here.
JACK
He dursn't—
MRS. HOLROYD
Be quiet now, be quiet. Here, Mr. Blackmore. (She again gives him the sheet to fold)
BLACKMORE
Your hands are cold.
MRS. HOLROYD
Are they?—I didn't know.
[Blackmore puts his hand on hers.
MRS. HOLROYD (confusedly, looking aside)
You must want your tea.
BLACKMORE
I'm in no hurry.
MRS. HOLROYD
Selvidge to selvidge. You'll be quite a domestic man, if you go on.
BLACKMORE
Ay.
[They fold the two sheets.
[12]
BLACKMORE
They are white, your sheets!
MRS. HOLROYD
But look at the smuts on them—look! This vile hole! I'd never have come to live here, in all the thick of the pit-grime, and lonely, if it hadn't been for him, so that he shouldn't call in a public-house on his road home from work. And now he slinks past on the other side of the railway, and goes down to the New Inn instead of coming in for his dinner. I might as well have stopped in Bestwood.
BLACKMORE
Though I rather like this little place, standing by itself.
MRS. HOLROYD
Jack, can you go and take the stockings in for me? They're on the line just below the pigsty. The prop's near the apple-tree—mind it. Minnie, you take the peg-basket.
MINNIE
Will there be any rats, mam?
MRS. HOLROYD
Rats—no. They'll be frightened when they hear you, if there are.
[The children go out.
BLACKMORE
Poor little beggars!
MRS. HOLROYD
Do you know, this place is fairly alive with rats. They run up that dirty vine in front of the house—I'm always at him to cut it down—and you can hear them at night overhead like a regiment of soldiers tramping. Really, you know, I hate them.
[13]
BLACKMORE
Well—a rat is a nasty thing!
MRS. HOLROYD
But I s'll get used to them. I'd give anything to be out of this place.
BLACKMORE
It is rotten, when you're tied to a life you don't like. But I should miss it if you weren't here. When I'm coming down the line to the pit in the morning—it's nearly dark at seven now—I watch the firelight in here—Sometimes I put my hand on the wall outside where the chimney runs up to feel it warm—There isn't much in Bestwood, is there?
MRS. HOLROYD
There's less than nothing if you can't be like the rest of them—as common as they're 'made.
BLACKMORE
It's a fact—particularly for a woman—But this place is cosy—God love me, I'm sick of lodgings.
MRS. HOLROYD
You'll have to get married—I'm sure there are plenty of nice girls about.
BLACKMORE
Are there? I never see 'em. (He laughs)
MRS. HOLROYD
Oh, come, you can't say that.
BLACKMORE
I've not seen a single girl—an unmarried girl—that I should want for more than a fortnight—not one.
[14]
MRS. HOLROYD
Perhaps you're very particular.
[She puts her two palms on the table and leans back. He draws near to her, dropping his head.
BLACKMORE
Look here!
[He has put his hand on the table near hers.
MRS. HOLROYD
Yes, I know you've got nice hands—but you needn't be vain of them.
BLACKMORE
No—it's not that—But don't they seem—(he glances swiftly at her; she turns her head aside; he laughs nervously)—they sort of go well with one another. (He laughs again)
MRS. HOLROYD
They do, rather—
[They stand still, near one another, with bent heads, for a moment. Suddenly she starts up and draws her hand away.
BLACKMORE
Why—what is it?
[She does not answer. The children come in—Jack with an armful of stockings, Minnie with the basket of pegs.
JACK
I believe it's freezing, mother.
MINNIE
Mr. Blackmore, could you shoot a rat an' hit it?
BLACKMORE (laughing)
Shoot the lot of 'em, like a wink.
[15]
MRS. HOLROYD
But you've had no tea. What an awful shame to keep you here!
BLACKMORE
Nay, I don't care. It never bothers me.
MRS. HOLROYD
Then you're different from most men.
BLACKMORE
All men aren't alike, you know.
MRS. HOLROYD
But do go and get some tea.
MINNIE (plaintively)
Can't you stop, Mr. Blackmore?
BLACKMORE
Why, Minnie?
MINNIE
So's we're not frightened. Yes, do. Will you?
BLACKMORE
Frightened of what?
MINNIE
'Cause there's noises, an' rats,—an' perhaps dad'll come home and shout.
BLACKMORE
But he'd shout more if I was here.
JACK
He doesn't when my uncle John's here. So you stop, an' perhaps he won't.
BLACKMORE
Don't you like him to shout when you're in bed?
[They do not answer, but look seriously at him.
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