If I Had a Father

Exit. Reenter to the lamp. I wish the gen’leman ’ad guv me a penny. I can’t do nothin’ wi’ this ’ere quid. Vere am I to put it? I ’ain’t got no pocket, an’ if I was to stow it in my ’tato-trap, I couldn’t wag my red rag⁠—an’ Mother Madge ’ud soon have me by the chops. Nor I’ve got noveres to plant it.⁠—O Lor! it’s all I’ve got, an’ Madge lets nobody go to bed without the tuppence. It’s all up with Bill⁠—for the night!⁠—Where’s the odds!⁠—there’s a first-class hotel by the river⁠—The Adelphi Arches, they calls it⁠—where they’ll take me in fast enough, and I can go to sleep with it in my cheek. Coves is past talkin’ to you there. Nobody as sees me in that ’ere ’aunt of luxury, ’ill take me for a millionaire vith a skid in his mouth. ’Tain’t a bit cold tonight neither going.⁠—Vy do they say a “aunt” of luxury? I s’pose acause she’s wife to my uncle. Exit. Slow music. The night passes. A policeman crosses twice. Thomas crosses between. Dawn. Reenter Bill. Bill I’m hanged if this here blasted quid ain’t a burnin’ of me like a red-hot fardin’! I’m blest if I’ve slep’ more ’n half the night. I woke up oncet, with it a slippin’ down red lane. I wish I had swallered it. Then nobody ’d ’a’ ast me vere I got it. I don’t wonder as rich coves turn out sich a bad lot. I believe the devil’s in this ’ere! Knocks at Mrs. Clifford’s door. James opens. Is shutting it again. Bill shoves in his stool. Bill Hillo, Blazes! where’s your manners? Is that the way you behaves to callers on your gov’nor’s business? James Half opening the door. Get about your own business, you imperent boy! Bill I’m about it now, young man. I wants to see your gov’nor. James You’ve got business with him, have you, eh? Bill Amazin’ precoxity! You’ve hit it! I have got business with him, Doorpost⁠—not in the wery smallest with you, Doorpost!⁠—essep’ the knife-boy’s been and neglected of your feet-bags this mornin’. James would slam the door. Bill shoves in his stool. Don’t you try that ’ere little game again, young man! for if I loses my temper and takes to hollerin’, you’ll wish yourself farther. James A humbug you are! I ’ain’t got no gov’nor, boy. The master as belongs to me is a mis’ess. Bill Then that ’ere gen’lemen as comes an’ goes, ain’t your master⁠—eh? James What gen’leman, stoopid? Bill Oh! it don’t matter. James What have⁠—you⁠—got to say to him? Bill Some’at pickled: it’ll keep. James I’ll give him a message, if you like. Bill Well, you may tell him the bargain’s hoff, and if he wants his money, it’s a waitin’ of him round the corner. James You little blackguard! Do you suppose a gen’leman’s a goin’ to deliver sich a message as that! Be off, you himp! Makes a dart at him. Bill Dodging him. How d’e do, Clumsy? Don’t touch me; I ain’t nice. Why, what was you made for, Parrot? Is them calves your own rearin’ now? Is that a quid or a fardin? Have a shot, now, Shins. James None o’ your imperence, young blackie! ’And me over the money, and I’ll give it to the gen’leman. Bill Do you see anything peticlar green in my eye, Rainbow? James makes a rush. Bill gets down before him. James tumbles over him. Bill blacks his face with his brush. Bill Running a little way. Ha! ha! ha! Bill Shoeblack⁠—his mark! Who’s blackie now? You owes me a penny⁠—twopence⁠—’twor sich a ugly job! Ain’t shiny? I’ll come back and shine ye for another penny. Good mornin’, Jim Crow! Take my adwice, and don’t on no account apply your winegar afore you’ve opened your hoyster. Likeways: Butter don’t melt on a cold tater. Exit. Exit James into the house, banging the door. Enter Waterfield, followed by Bill. Bill Please, sir, I been a watchin’ for you. Waterfield Go to the devil! Bill I’d rayther not. So there’s your suv’ring! Waterfield Go along. Meet me where I told you. Bill I won’t. There’s yer skid. Waterfield Be off, or I’ll give you in charge. Hey! Policeman! Exit. Bill Well, I’m blowed! This quid ’11 be the hangin’ o’ me! Damn you! Throws it fiercely on the ground and stamps on it. Serves me right for chaffin’ the old un! He didn’t look a bad sort⁠—for a gov’nor.⁠—Now I reflexes, I heerd Mattie spoony on some father or other, afore. O Lord! I’ll get Jim and Jack to help me look out for him. Enter Thomas. Lor’ ha’ mussy!⁠—talk o’ the old un!⁠—I’m wery peticlar glad as I found you, daddy. I been a lookin’ for ye⁠—leastways I was a goin’ to look for ye this wery moment as you turns up. I chaffed you like a zorologicle monkey yesterday, daddy, an’ I’m wery sorry. But you see fathers ain’t nice i’ this ’ere part o’ the continent. Enter James, in plain clothes, watching them. They ain’t no good nohow to nobody. If I wos a husband and a father, I don’t know as how I should be A One, myself. P’r’aps I might think it wur my turn to break arms and legs. I knowed more ’n one father as did. It’s no wonder the boys is a plaguy lot, daddy. Thomas Goo away, boy. Dosto yer, aw’ve seen so mich wickedness sin’ aw coom to Lon’on, that aw dunnot knaw whether to breighk thi yed, or to goo wi’ tho? There be thieves and there be robbers. Bill Never fear, daddy. You ain’t worth robbin’ of, I don’t think. Thomas How dosto knaw that? Aw’ve moore ’n I want to lose abeawt mo. Bill Then Mattie ’ill have som’at to eat⁠—will she, daddy? Thomas Som’at to eight, boy! Be mo Mattie hungry⁠—dun yo think? Bill Many and many’s the time, daddy. Thomas Yigh⁠—afore her