Candida

lowest tender: you can’t deny that. Morell Yes, the lowest, because you paid worse wages than any other employer⁠—starvation wages⁠—aye, worse than starvation wages⁠—to the women who made the clothing. Your wages would have driven them to the streets to keep body and soul together. Getting angrier and angrier. Those women were my parishioners. I shamed the Guardians out of accepting your tender: I shamed the ratepayers out of letting them do it: I shamed everybody but you. Boiling over. How dare you, sir, come here and offer to forgive me, and talk about your daughter, and⁠— Burgess Easy, James, easy, easy. Don’t git hinto a fluster about nothink. I’ve howned I was wrong. Morell Fuming about. Have you? I didn’t hear you. Burgess Of course I did. I hown it now. Come: I harsk your pardon for the letter I wrote you. Is that enough? Morell Snapping his fingers. That’s nothing. Have you raised the wages? Burgess Triumphantly. Yes. Morell Stopping dead. What! Burgess Unctuously. I’ve turned a moddle hemployer. I don’t hemploy no women now: they’re all sacked; and the work is done by machinery. Not a man ’as less than sixpence a hour; and the skilled ’ands gits the Trade Union rate. Proudly. What ’ave you to say to me now? Morell Overwhelmed. Is it possible! Well, there’s more joy in heaven over one sinner that repenteth⁠—Going to Burgess with an explosion of apologetic cordiality. My dear Burgess, I most heartily beg your pardon for my hard thoughts of you. Grasps his hand. And now, don’t you feel the better for the change? Come, confess, you’re happier. You look happier. Burgess Ruefully. Well, p’raps I do. I s’pose I must, since you notice it. At all events, I git my contrax asseppit (accepted) by the County Council. Savagely. They dussent ’ave nothink to do with me unless I paid fair wages⁠—curse ’em for a parcel o’ meddlin’ fools! Morell Dropping his hand, utterly discouraged. So that was why you raised the wages! He sits down moodily. Burgess Severely, in spreading, mounting tones. Why else should I do it? What does it lead to but drink and huppishness in workin’ men? He seats himself magisterially in the easy chair. It’s hall very well for you, James: it gits you hinto the papers and makes a great man of you; but you never think of the ’arm you do, puttin’ money into the pockets of workin’ men that they don’t know ’ow to spend, and takin’ it from people that might be makin’ a good huse on it. Morell With a heavy sigh, speaking with cold politeness. What is your business with me this morning? I shall not pretend to believe that you are here merely out of family sentiment. Burgess Obstinately. Yes, I ham⁠—just family sentiment and nothink else. Morell With weary calm. I don’t believe you! Burgess Rising threateningly. Don’t say that to me again, James Mavor Morell. Morell Unmoved. I’ll say it just as often as may be necessary to convince you that it’s true. I don’t believe you. Burgess Collapsing into an abyss of wounded feeling. Oh, well, if you’re determined to be unfriendly, I s’pose I’d better go. He moves reluctantly towards the door. Morell makes no sign. He lingers. I didn’t hexpect to find a hunforgivin’ spirit in you, James. Morell still not responding, he takes a few more reluctant steps doorwards. Then he comes back whining. We huseter git on well enough, spite of our different opinions. Why are you so changed to me? I give you my word I come here in pyorr (pure) frenliness, not wishin’ to be on bad terms with my hown daughrter’s ’usban’. Come, James: be a Cherishin and shake ’ands. He puts his hand sentimentally on Morell’s shoulder. Morell Looking up at him thoughtfully. Look here, Burgess. Do you want to be as welcome here as you were before you lost that contract? Burgess I do, James. I do⁠—honest. Morell Then why don’t you behave as you did then? Burgess Cautiously removing his hand. ’Ow d’y’mean? Morell I’ll tell you. You thought me a young fool then. Burgess Coaxingly. No, I didn’t, James. I⁠— Morell Cutting him short. Yes, you did. And I thought you an old scoundrel. Burgess Most vehemently deprecating this gross self-accusation on Morell’s part. No, you didn’t, James. Now you do yourself a hinjustice. Morell Yes, I did. Well, that did not prevent our getting on very well together. God made you what I call a scoundrel as he made me what you call a fool. The effect of this observation on Burgess is to remove the keystone of his moral arch. He becomes bodily weak, and, with his eyes fixed on Morell in a helpless stare, puts out his hand apprehensively to balance himself, as if the floor had suddenly sloped under him. Morell proceeds in the same tone of quiet conviction: It was not for me to quarrel with his handiwork in the one case more than in the other. So long as you come here honestly as a self-respecting, thorough, convinced scoundrel, justifying your scoundrelism, and proud of it, you are welcome. But and now Morell’s tone becomes formidable; and he rises and strikes the back of the chair for greater emphasis I won’t have you here snivelling about being a model employer and a converted man when you’re only an apostate with your coat turned for the sake of a County Council contract. He nods at him to enforce the point; then goes to the hearthrug, where he takes up a comfortably commanding position with his back to the fire, and continues. No: I like a man to be true to himself, even in wickedness. Come now: either take your hat and go; or else sit down and give me a good scoundrelly reason for wanting to be friends with me.