MINNIE (waving a fork): You’re not to look.
LUTHER: It smells good.
MINNIE: Are you going to have your dinner like that?
LUTHER: Ay, lass — just for once.
He spreads a newspaper in one of the green-cushioned armchairs and sits down. She disappears into the scullery with a saucepan. He takes off his great pit-boots. She sets a soup-tureen on the table, and lights the lamp. He watches her face in the glow.
Tha’rt non bad-luikin’ when ter’s a mind.
MINNIE: When have I a mind?
LUTHER: Tha’s allers a mind — but when ter lights th’ lamp tha’rt i’ luck’s way.
MINNIE: Come on, then.
He drags his chair to the table.
LUTHER: I s’ll ha’e ter ha’e a newspaper afront on me, or thy cloth’ll be a blackymoor. (Begins disarranging the pots.)
MINNIE: Oh, you are a nuisance! (Jumps up.)
LUTHER: I can put ‘em a’ back again.
MINNIE: I know your puttings back.
LUTHER: Tha couldna get married by thysen, could ter? — so tha’lt ha’e ter ma’e th’ best on me.
MINNIE: But you’re such a bother — never here at the right time — never doing the right thing —
LUTHER: An’ my mouth’s ter wide an’ my head’s ter narrow. Shalt iver ha’ come ter th’ end of my faults an’ failin’s?
MINNIE (giving him soup): I wish I could.
LUTHER: An’ now tha’lt snap mu head off ‘cos I slobber, shanna tha?
MINNIE: Then don’t slobber.
LUTHER: I’ll try my luck. What hast bin doin’ a’ day?
MINNIE: Working.
LUTHER: Has our Joe bin in?
MINNIE: No. I rather thought he might, but he hasn’t.
LUTHER: You’ve not been up home?
MINNIE: To your mother’s? No, what should I go there for?
LUTHER: Eh, I dunno what ter should go for — I thought tha ‘appen might.
MINNIE: But what for?
LUTHER: Nay — I niver thowt nowt about what for.
MINNIE: Then why did you ask me?
LUTHER: I dunno. (A pause.)
MINNIE: Your mother can come here, can’t she?
LUTHER: Ay, she can come. Tha’ll be goin’ up wi’ me to-night — I want ter go an’ see about our Joe.
MINNIE: What about him?
LUTHER: How he went on about’s club money. Shall ter come wi’ me?
MINNIE: I wanted to do my curtains.
LUTHER: But tha’s got a’ day to do them in.
MINNIE: But I want to do them to-night — I feel like it.
LUTHER: A’ right. — I shanna be long, at any rate.
(A pause.)
What dost keep lookin’ at?
MINNIE: How?
LUTHER: Tha keeps thy eye on me rarely.
MINNIE (laughing): It’s your mouth — it looks so red and bright, in your black face.
LUTHER: Does it look nasty to thee?
MINNIE: No — no-o.
LUTHER (pushing his moustache, laughing): It ma’es you look like a nigger, i’ your pit-dirt — th’ whites o’ your eyes!
MINNIE: Just.
She gets up to take his plate; goes and stands beside him. He lifts his face to her.
I want to see if I can see you; you look so different.
LUTHER: Tha can see me well enough. Why dost want to?
MINNIE: It’s almost like having a stranger.
LUTHER: Would ter rather?
MINNIE: What?
LUTHER: Ha’e a stranger?
MINNIE: What for?
LUTHER: Hao — I dunno.
MINNIE (touching his hair): You look rather nice — an’ your hair’s so dirty.
LUTHER: Gi’e me a kiss.
MINNIE: But where? You’re all grime.
LUTHER: I’m sure I’ve licked my mouth clean.
MINNIE (stooping suddenly, and kissing him): You don’t look nearly such a tame rabbit, in your pit-dirt.
LUTHER (catching her in his arms): Dunna I? (Kisses her.) What colour is my eyes?
MINNIE: Bluey-grey.
LUTHER: An’ thine’s grey an’ black.
MINNIE: Mind! (She looks at her blouse when he releases her.)
LUTHER (timid): Have I blacked it?
MINNIE: A bit.
She goes to the scullery; returns with another dish.
LUTHER: They talkin’ about comin’ out again
MINNIE (returning): Good laws! — they’ve no need.
LUTHER: They are, though.
MINNIE: It’s a holiday they want.
LUTHER: Nay, it isna. They want th’ proper scale here, just as they ha’e it ivrywhere else.
MINNIE: But if the seams are thin, and the company can’t afford.
LUTHER: They can afford a’ this gret new electric plant; they can afford to build new houses for managers, an’ ter give blo — ter give Frazer twelve hundred a year.
MINNIE: If they want a good manager to make the pits pay, they have to give him a good salary.
LUTHER: So’s he can clip down our wages.
MINNIE: Why, what are yours clipped down?
LUTHER: Mine isn’t, but there’s plenty as is.
MINNIE: And will this strike make a butty of you?
LUTHER: You don’t strike to get made a butty on.
MINNIE: Then how do you do it? You’re thirty-one.
LUTHER: An’ there’s many as owd as me as is day-men yet.
MINNIE: But there’s more that aren’t, that are butties.
LUTHER: Ay, they’ve had luck.
MINNIE: Luck! You mean they’ve had some go in them.
LUTHER: Why, what can I do more than I am doin’?
MINNIE: It isn’t what you do, it’s how you do it. Sluther through any job; get to th’ end of it, no matter how. That’s you.
LUTHER: I hole a stint as well as any man.
MINNIE: Then I back it takes you twice as long.
LUTHER: Nay, nor that neither.
MINNIE: I know you’re not much of a workman — I’ve heard it from other butties, that you never put your heart into anything.
LUTHER: Who hast heard it fra?
MINNIE: From those that know. And I could ha’ told it them, for I know you. You’ll be a day-man at seven shillings a day till the end of your life — and you’ll be satisfied, so long as you can shilly-shally through. That’s what your mother did for you — mardin’ you up till you were all mard-soft.
LUTHER: Tha’s got a lot ter say a’ of a suddin. Thee shut thy mouth.
MINNIE: You’ve been dragged round at your mother’s apron-strings, all the lot of you, till there isn’t half a man among you.
LUTHER: Tha seems fond enough of our Joe.
MINNIE: He is th’ best in the bunch.
LUTHER: Tha should ha’ married him, then.
MINNIE: I shouldn’t have had to ask him, if he was ready.
LUTHER: I’d axed thee twice afore — tha knowed tha could ha’e it when ter wanted.
MINNIE: Axed me! It was like asking me to pull out a tooth for you.
LUTHER: Yi, an’ it felt like it
MINNIE: What?
LUTHER: Axin’ thee to marry me. I’m blessed if it didna feel like axin’ the doctor to pull ten teeth out of a stroke.
MINNIE: And then you expect me to have you!
LUTHER: Well, tha has done, whether or not.
MINNIE: I — yes, I had to fetch you, like a mother fetches a kid from school. A pretty sight you looked. Didn’t your mother give you a ha’penny to spend, to get you to go?
LUTHER: No; she spent it for me.
MINNIE: She would! She wouldn’t even let you spend your own ha’penny. You’d have lost it, or let somebody take it from you.
LUTHER: Yi. Thee.
MINNIE: Me! — me take anything from you! Why, you’ve got nothing worth having.
LUTHER: I dunno — tha seems ter think so sometimes.
MINNIE: Oh
! Shilly-shally and crawl, that’s all you can do. You ought to have stopped with your mother.
LUTHER: I should ha’ done, if tha hadna hawksed me out.
MINNIE: You aren’t fit for a woman to have married, you’re not.
LUTHER: Then why did thee marry me? It wor thy doin’s.
MINNIE: Because I could get nobody better.
LUTHER: I’m more class than I thought for, then.
MINNIE: Are you! Are you!
JOE’S voice is heard.
JOE: I’m comin’ in, you two, so stop snaggin’ an’ snarlin’.
LUTHER: Come in; ‘er’ll ‘appen turn ‘er tap on thee.
JOE enters.
JOE: Are you eatin’ yet?
LUTHER: Ay — it ta’es ‘er that long ter tell my sins. Tha’s just come right for puddin’. Get thee a plate outer t’cupboard — an’ a spoon outer t’basket.
JOE (at the cupboard): You’ve got ivrythink tip-top. What should ter do if I broke thee a plate, Minnie?
MINNIE: I should break another over your head.
He deliberately drops and smashes a plate. She flushes crimson.
LUTHER: Well, I’m glad it worna me.
JOE: I’m that clumsy wi’ my left ‘and, Minnie! Why doesna ter break another ower my head?
LUTHER (rising and putting pudding on a plate): Here, ta’e this an’ sit thee down.
His brother seats himself.
Hold thy knees straight, an’ for God’s sake dunna thee break this. Can ter manage?
JOE: I reckon so. If I canna, Minnie’ll feed me wi’ a spoon. Shonna ter?
MINNIE: Why did you break my plate?
JOE: Nay, I didna break it — it wor the floor.
MINNIE: You did it on purpose.
JOE: How could I? I didn’t say ter th’ floor: “Break thou this plate, O floor!”
MINNIE: You have no right.
JOE (addressing the floor): Tha’d no right to break that plate — dost hear? I’d a good mind ter drop a bit o’ puddin’ on thy face.
He balances the spoon; the plate slides down from his knee, smash into the fender.
MINNIE (screams): It’s my best service! (Begins to sob.)
LUTHER: Nay, our Joe!
JOE: ‘Er’s no occasions ter scraight. I bought th’ service an’ I can get th’ plates matched. What’s her grizzlin’ about?
MINNIE: I shan’t ask you to get them matched.
JOE: Dunna thee, an’ then tha runs no risk o’ bein’ denied.
MINNIE: What have you come here like this for?
JOE: I haena come here like this. I come ter tell yer our Harriet says, would yer mind goin’ an’ tellin’ ‘er what she can do with that childt’s coat, as she’s made a’ wrong. If you’d looked slippy, I’d ha’ ta’en yer ter th’ Cinematograph after. But, dearly-beloved brethren, let us weep; these our dear departed dinner-plates . . . Come, Minnie, drop a tear as you pass by.
LUTHER (to MINNIE): Tha needna fret, Minnie, they can easy be matched again.
MINNIE: You’re just pleased to see him make a fool of me, aren’t you?
LUTHER: He’s non made a fool o’ thee — tha’s made a fool o’ thysen, scraightin’ an’ carryin’ on.
JOE: It’s a fact, Minnie. Nay, let me kiss thee better.
She has risen, with shut face.
He approaches with outstretched left arm. She swings round, fetches him a blow over his upper right arm. He bites his lip with pain.
LUTHER (rising): Has it hurt thee, lad? Tha shouldna fool wi’ her.
MINNIE watches the two brothers with tears of mortification in her eyes. Then she throws off her apron, pins on her hat, puts on her coat, and is marching out of the house.
LUTHER: Are you going to Harriet’s?
JOE: I’ll come and fetch you in time for th’ Cinematograph.
The door is heard to bang.
JOE (picking up broken fragments of plates): That’s done it.
LUTHER: It’s bad luck — ne’er mind. How art goin’ on?
JOE: Oh, alright.
LUTHER: What about thy club money?
JOE: They wunna gi’e’t me. But, I say, sorry — tha’rt for it.
LUTHER: Ay — I dunno what ‘er married me for, f’r it’s nowt bu’ fault she finds wi’ me, from th’ minnit I come i’ th’ house to th’ minnit I leave it.
JOE: Dost wish tha’d niver done it? — niver got married?
LUTHER (sulky): I dunno — sometimes.
JOE (with tragic emphasis): Then it’s the blasted devil!
LUTHER: I dunno — I’m married to ‘er, an’ she’s married to me, so she can pick holes i’ me as much as she likes —
JOE: As a rule, she’s nice enough wi’ me.
LUTHER: She’s nice wi’ ivrybody but me.
JOE: An’ dost ter care?
LUTHER: Ay — I do.
JOE: Why doesn’t ter go out an’ leave her?
LUTHER: I dunno.
JOE: By the Lord, she’d cop it if I had ‘er.
Pause.
LUTHER: I wor comin’ up to-night.
JOE: I thought tha would be. But there’s Mrs Purdy comin’ ter see thee.
LUTHER: There’s who?
JOE: Mrs Purdy. Didna ter ha’e a bit of a go wi’ their Bertha, just afore Minnie wrote thee?
LUTHER: Ay. Why?
JOE: ‘Er mother says she’s wi’ childt by thee. She come up ter my mother this afternoon, an’ said she wor comin’ here tonight.
LUTHER: Says what?
JOE: Says as their Bertha’s goin’ ter ha’e a child, an’ ‘er lays it on ter thee.
LUTHER: Oh, my good God!
JOE: Isna it right?
LUTHER: It’s right if ‘er says so.
JOE: Then it’s the blasted devil! (A pause.) So I come on here ter see if I could get Minnie to go up to our Harriet.
LUTHER: Oh, my good God!
JOE: I thought, if we could keep it from ‘er, we might settle summat, an’ ‘er niver know.
LUTHER (slowly): My God alive!
JOE: She said she’d hush it up, an’ lay it ont’r a electrician as laid th’ cable, an’ is gone goodness knows where — make an arrangement, for forty pound.
LUTHER (thoughtfully): I wish I wor struck dead.
JOE: Well, tha arena’, an’ so tha’d better think about it. My mother said as Minnie ought to know, but I say diff’rent, an’ if Mrs Purdy doesna tell her, nobody need.
LUTHER: I wish I wor struck dead. I wish a ton o’ rock ‘ud fa’ on me to-morrer.
JOE: It wunna for wishin’.
LUTHER: My good God!
JOE: An’ so — I’ll get thee forty quid, an’ lend it thee. When Mrs Purdy comes, tell her she shall ha’e twenty quid this day week, an’ twenty quid a year from now, if thy name’s niver been mentioned. I believe ‘er’s a clat-fart.
LUTHER: Me a childt by Bertha Purdy! But — but what’s that for — now there’s Minnie?
JOE: I dunno what it’s for, but theer it is, as I’m tellin’ thee. I’ll stop for another haef an hour, an’ if ‘er doesna come, than mun see to ‘er by thysen.
LUTHER: ‘Er’ll be back afore ha’ef an hour’s up. Tha mun go an’ stop ‘er . . . I — I niver meant — Look here, our Joe, I — if I — if she — if she — My God, what have I done now!
JOE: We can stop her from knowin’.
LUTHER (looking round): She’ll be comin’ back any minnit. Nay, I niver meant t’r ha’. Joe . . .
JOE: What?
LUTHER: She — she —
JOE: ‘Er niver ned know.
Complete Works of D.H. Lawrence Page 720