Pol. (singing as curtain rises). "And sh...

Pol. (singing as curtain rises). "And she watched his department with anguish,

While the tears down in torrents did roll."

(Places skirt in box and leans her chin upon her hand).

There, there's the dress for poor Esther in case she gets the engagement, which I don't suppose she will; it's too good luck, and good luck never comes to her, poor thing. (Rises and goes up to cradle, up c, ) Baby's asleep still. How good he looks, as good as if he were dead, like his poor father, and alive too at the same time, like his dear self. Oh, dear me, it's a strange world. (Sits again as before, feeling for pocket for money.) Four and elevenpence; that must do for to-day and tomorrow. Esther's going to bring in the rusks for Georgie. (Takes up slate.) Three, five, eight and four, twelve, one shilling. Um, father can only have twopence; he must make do with that till Saturday, when I get my salary. If Esther gets the engagement I shan't have any more salaries to take. I shall leave the stage and retire into private life. I wonder if I shall like private life, and if private life will like me. It will seem so strange being no longer Miss Mary Eccles—Mary Eccles — but Mrs. Samuel Gerridge. (Writes it on slate.) Mrs. Samuel Gerridge. (Laughs bashfully.) La! To think of my being Mrs. Anybody. How annoyed Susan Smith will be. (Writes on slate.) Mrs. Samuel Gerridge presents her compliments to Miss Susan Smith, and Mrs. Samuel Gerridge requests the favor of Miss Susan Smith's company to tea on Tuesday evening next, at Mrs. Samuel Gerridge's house. (Pause.') Poor Susan ! (Begins again.) P. S., Mrs. Samuel Gerridge (Knock heard at room door up R. Polly starts.)

Sam (outside). Polly, open the door.

Pol. Sam! (Wipes out note on slate.) Come in.

Sam (without). I can't,

Pol. Why not?

Sam. I've got something on my head.

(Polly rises and opens door r. Sam enters, carrying a small table on his head; he has a rule pocket in corduroys; rule seen.)

Pol. (coming down c). What's that? (Shuts door.)

Sam. Furniture. (Goes down R., and deposits table.) How are you, my Polly? (Kisses her.) Bless you, you look handsomer than ever this morning. (Dances and sings.)

Fiddle-ti-tum de di do

Fiddle-ti-dum de day

Fiddle-ti-tum de di do

Toddle-rum-a day.

Pol. What's the matter, Sam, are you mad ? (Sits.)

Sam. No, happy; much the same thing.

Pol. Where have you been these two days?

Sam. That's just what I'm going to tell you, Polly, my pet, my brightest batswing and most brilliant burner, what do you think? (Crosses L., and leans over to kiss her.)

Pol, (pushing him away). Oh, do go on, Sam, or I'll slap your face.

Sam (r,). Well, you've heard me speak of old Binks the plumber, and glazier, and gasfitter, who died six months ago?

Pol. Yes. Sam. I've bought his business. (Sits on table.)

Pol. No!

Sam. Yes, of his widow, Mrs. Binks. So much down, so much more at the end of the year. (Imitates dancing with his feet dangling as he sits on table, R. Sings.) Ri ti toodle, roodle oodle. Ri ti tooral ororal lay.

Pol. La, Sam!

Sam (gesticulating). Yes, I've bought the good-will, fix- tures, fittings, stock, rolls of gas pipe, and sheets of lead. (Swings round on table to face Polly.) I am a tradesman with a shop, a master tradesman.

(Polly rises and crosses to table with slate under her arm—leans againstfront of table. Sam swings round beside her and puts his arm round her.)

All I want to complete the premises is a missus. (Tries to kiss her; she slaps his face. )

Pol. Sam, don't be foolish!

Sam. Come and be Mrs. Sam Gerridge, Polly, my patent safety day and night light. You'll furnish me completely.

(Polly looks slyly at slate. Sam snatches it up and looks at it; she snatches it from him with a shriek and rubs out writing as he chases up stage—catches her tip c, kisses her, comes down r. c. with her.)

Pol. (r. c). Only to think!

Sam. I spent all yesterday looking up furniture. I bought that at a bargain. (Opens drawer of table, R.) And I brought it to show you for your approval. Fve bought lots of other things, and I'll bring 'em all here to show you for your approval.

Pol. I couldn't think what had become of you.

Sam. Look here. (Produces patterns of paper.) I want you to choose the pattern for the back parlor behind the shop. I'll new paper it and new paint it, and new furnish it. It shall be all brand new.

Pol. (l. of table). But won't it cost a lot of money, Sam?

Sam. I can work for it. With customers in the shop, and you in the back parlor, I can work like fifty men. (Sits on table, R. C, with arm round Polly.) Only fancy at night when the shop's closed and the shutters are up, counting out the till together. Besides, that isn't all I've done; I've been writing, and what I've written I've got printed.

Pol. No!

Sam. True.

Pol. You've been writing about me. (Delighted.)

Sam. No, about the shop. (Polly disgusted.) Here it is. (Takes roll of circulars from pocket.) You mustn't laugh; you know it's my first attempt. I wrote it the night before last, and when I thought of you, Polly, the words seemed to flow like red hot solder. (Reads.) "Sam Gerridge takes this opportunity of informing the nobility, gentry, and inhabitants of the Borough Road" — you know there's not many of the nobility and gentry live in the Borough Road; but it pleases the inhabitants to make 'em believe you think so—"of informing the nobility, gentry, and inhabitants of the Borough Road, and its vicinity " —that's rather good, I think? (Looks at her.)

Pol. Yes; I've heard worse.

Sam. I first thought of saying neighborhood, but I thought vicinity sounded more genteel. "And its vicinity, that he has entered upon the business of the late Mr. Binks, 'is relict, the present Mrs. B., having disposed to him of the same." Now listen, Polly, because it gets interesting—" S. G."

Pol. S. G. Who's he?

Sam. Me, S. G., Samuel Gerridge, me—us—we're S. G. Don't interrupt me or you'll cool my metal and then I can't work." S. G. hopes by a constant attention to business and " —mark this —" by supplying the best articles at the most reasonable prices, to merit a continuance of those favors which it will ever be his constant study to deserve." There! (Turns on table to R., triumphantly.) Stop a bit—there's more yet — "bell-hanging, gas-fitting, plumbing and glazing as usual." I'here—it's all my own. (Puts circular on mantelpiece, crosses R., then stands back to contemplate it, his arm still round Polly's waist.) And now, Polly, I'll go—I shall go and send some (Takes his table up r.; postman's knock.) If there ain't the postman ! (Goes off—leaves table—and returns with letter.)

Pol. (c, taking it). Oh! for Esther. I know who it's from. (Places letter on mantelpiece, L.; seriously.) Sam, who do you think was here last night?

Sam. Who?

Pol. Captain Hawtree. (Comes across, L. c.)

Sam. {depreciatingly). Oh, come back from India, I suppose?

Pol. Yes; luckily Esther was out. (Sits u of table.)

Sam. I never liked that long swell. He was an uppish, conceited..

Pol. Oh, he's better than he used to be. He's a major now. He's only been in England a fortnight.

Sam Did he tell you anything about poor D'Alroy?

Pol. (leaning on table). Yes; he said he was riding out not far from the cantonment, and was surrounded by a troop of Sepoy cavalry, which took him prisoner and galloped off with him.

Sam. But about his death?

Pol. Oh ! (Hides her face) Oh! that, he said, was believed to be too terrible to mention.

Sam. Did he tell you anything else?

Pol. No; he asked a lot of questions, and I told him everything. How poor Esther had taken her widowhood, and what a dear good baby the baby was, and what a comfort to us all, and how Esther had come back to live with us again.

Sam. And the reason for it?

Pol. (nodding her head sadly). Yes.

Sam. How your father got the money that was left for Esther?

Pol. Don't say any more about that, Sam.

Sam. I only think Captain Hawtree ought to know where the money did go, and that you shouldn't screen your father and let him suppose that you and Esther spent it all.

Pol. I told him.

Sam. Did you tell him that your father was always at harmonic meetings, at taverns, and had half-cracked himself by drink, and was always singing the songs and making the speeches that he heard there, and that he was always going on about his wrongs as one of the working classes? He's a pretty one for one of the working classes—he is! Hasn't done a stroke of work these twenty years. Now, I am one of the working classes, but I don't howl about it. I only work and I don't spout. [Goes up c, and comes down again.)

Pol. Hold your tongue, Sam. I won't have you say any more against poor father. He has his faults, but he's a very clever man.

Sam (sighing). Oh ! What else did Captain Hawtree say?

Pol. He advised us to apply to Mr. D'Alroy's mother.

Sam. The Marquissy ? And what did you say?

Pol. I said that Esther wouldn't hear of it, and so the Major said that he'd write to Esther, and I suppose this is the letter.

Sam. Now, Polly, come and choose the paper. (Goes up c.)

Pol. (rising). Can't; who's to mind baby? (Up stage to cradle.)

Sam (at window). There's your father passing; won't he mind him?

Pol. (at window with Sam). I daresay he will. If I promise him an extra sixpence on Saturday. (Taps at window.) Hi! Father!

Sam (aside). He looks down in the mouth. I suppose he's had no drink. (Goes down R.)

T.W. Robertson, “Caste” in Nineteenth-Century Plays, ed. George Rowell, 1987, pp.375-380.

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