If I Had a Father

mon like mosel’ would be of mich use for sich wark as that, mon? Col. Gervaise The more fit for a spy, though, to see what might be made of it. Thomas Eh, mon! Dun they do sich things as you? But aw’m seechin’ nothin’, man nor meawse, that donnot belung me. Aw tell yo true. Gie mo mo Mattie, and aw’ll trouble yo no moor. Aw winnot⁠—if yo’ll give mo back mo Mattie. Comes close up to him and lays his hand on his arm. Be yo a feyther, mon? Col. Gervaise Yes. Thomas Ov a pratty yung lass? Col. Gervaise Well, no. I have but a son. Thomas Then thae winnot help mo? Col. Gervaise I shall be very glad to help you, if you will tell me how. Thomas Tell yor maister ’at Mattie’s owd feyther’s coom a’ the gait fro Rachda to fot her whoam, and aw’ll be much obleeged to him iv he’ll let her goo beout lunger delay, for her mother wants her to whoam: hoo’s but poorly. Tell yor maister that. Col. Gervaise But I don’t believe my master knows anything about her. Thomas Aw’re tellin’ tho, aw seigh’ th’ mon goo into this heawse but a feow minutes agoo? Col. Gervaise You’ve mistaken somebody for him. Thomas Well, aw’m beawn to tell tho moore. Twothre days ago, aw seigh mo chylt coom eawt ov this same dur⁠—aw mane th’ heawsedur, yon. Col. Gervaise Are you sure of that? Thomas Sure as death. Aw seigh her back. Col. Gervaise Her back! Who could be sure of a back? Thomas By th’ maskins! dosto think I dunnot know mo Mattie’s back? I seign her coom eawt o’ that dur, aw tell tho! Col. Gervaise Why didn’t you speak to her? Thomas Aw co’d. Col. Gervaise And she didn’t answer? Thomas Aw didn’t co’ leawd. Aw’re not willin’ to have ony mak ov a din. Col. Gervaise But you followed her surely? Thomas Aw did; but aw’re noan so good at walkin’ as aw wur when aw coom; th’ stwons ha’ blistered mo fet. An it’re the edge o’ dark like. Aw connot seigh weel at neet, wi o’ th’ lamps; an afoor aw geet oop wi’ her, hoo’s reawnd th’ nook, and gwon fro mo seet. Col. Gervaise There are ten thousands girls in London you might take for your own under such circumstances⁠—not seeing more than the backs of them. Thomas Ten theawsand girls like mo Mattie, saysto?⁠—wi’her greight eighes and her lung yure?⁠—Puh! Col. Gervaise But you’ve just said you didn’t see her face! Thomas Dunnot aw know what th’ face ov mo chylt be like, beout seein’ ov it? Aw’m noan ov a lump-yed. Nobory as seigh her once wouldn’t know her again. Col. Gervaise Aside. He’s a lunatic!⁠—I don’t see what I can do for you, old fellow. Thomas Rising. And aw met ha’ known it beout axin’! O’reet! Aw’re a greight foo’! But aw’re beawn to coom in: aw lung’d to goo through th’ same dur wi’ mo Mattie. Good day, sir. It be like maister, like mon! God’s curse upon o’ sich! Turns his back. After a moment turns again. Noa. Aw winnot say that; for mo Mattie’s sake aw winnot say that. God forgie you! Going by the house. Col. Gervaise This way, please! Opening the street-door. Thomas Aw see. Aw’m not to have a chance ov seein’ oather Mattie or th’ mon. Exit. Col. Gervaise resumes his boot absently. Reenter Thomas, shaking his fist. Thomas But aw tell tho, aw’ll stick to th’ place day and neet, aw wull. Aw wull. Aw wull. Col. Gervaise Come back tomorrow. Thomas Coom back, saysto? Aw’ll not goo away growing fierce. Wilto gie mo mo Mattie? Aw’m noan beawn to ston here so mich lunger. Wilto gie mo mo Mattie? Col. Gervaise I cannot give you what I haven’t got. Thomas Aw’ll break thi yed, thou villain! Threatening him with his stick. Eh, Mattie! Mattie! to loe sich a mon’s maister more’n me! I would dey fur thee, Mattie. Exit. Col. Gervaise It’s all a mistake, of course. There are plenty of young men⁠—but my Arthur’s none of such. I cannot believe it of him. The daughter! If I could find her, she would settle the question. It begins to grow dark. I must help the old man to find her. He’s sure to come back. Arthur does not look the least like it. But⁠—polishes vigorously. I cannot get this boot to look like a gentleman’s. I wish I had taken a lesson or two first. I’ll get hold of a shoeblack, and make him come for a morning or two. No, he does not look like it. There he comes. Goes on polishing. Enter Gervaise. Gervaise William! Col. Gervaise Turning. Yes, sir. Gervaise Light the gas. Anyone called? Col. Gervaise Yes, sir. Gervaise Who? Col. Gervaise I don’t know, sir. Lighting the gas. Gervaise You should have asked his name. Stands before the clay, contemplating it. Col. Gervaise I’m sorry I forgot, sir. It was only an old man from the country⁠—after his daughter, he said. Gervaise Came to offer his daughter, or himself perhaps. Begins to work at the figure. Col. Gervaise Watching him stealthily. He looked a respectable old party⁠—from Lancashire, he said. Gervaise I dare say. You will have many such callers. Take the address. Models, you know. Col. Gervaise If he calls again, sir? Gervaise Ask him to leave his address, I say. Col. Gervaise But he told me you knew her. Gervaise Possibly. I had a good many models before I left. But it’s of no consequence; I don’t want any at present. Col. Gervaise He seemed in a great way, sir⁠—and swore. I couldn’t make him out. Gervaise Ah! hm! Col. Gervaise He says he saw her come out of the house. Gervaise Has there been any girl here? Have you seen any about? Col. Gervaise No, sir. Gervaise My aunt had a dressmaker to meet her here the other evening. I have had no model since I came back. Col. Gervaise The man was in a sad taking about her, sir. I didn’t know what to make of