NURSE: She’s not a nice girl.
MRS HEMSTOCK: An’ ‘e hated her cause I shoved him at her.
NURSE: But you don’t care for her, surely.
MRS HEMSTOCK: Canna bear her. A pussy cat always rubbin’ ‘erself agen a man’s legs — an’ one o’ the quiet sort. But for all that, I should like to see him married afore I die. I dunna like, Nurse, leavin’ ‘im like ‘e is. ‘E wor my darlin’.
NURSE (softly): Yes.
MRS HEMSTOCK: An’ ‘e niver wor a drunkard, but ‘e’s the makin’s of one.
NURSE: Surely not — oh, how dreadful!
Enter HARRY with bedding. He helps NURSE shake up and make the bed.
NURSE: How sweet the sheets are! They were aired on the currant bushes. Did Mrs Smalley wash them?
MRS HEMSTOCK: Our Susy! Not likely. She’d never do a hand’s turn. I expect our Harry there weshed ‘em — an’ ‘is father. Dunna look so; canna ter answer a bit of a question? (He does not answer.) ‘E looks as if ‘e’d swallowed a year o’ foul weather.
NURSE: Hem at the top. (She stumbles over Patty.) Oh, poor Patty — poor old bird! Come here then, you dear old thing — did I hurt you?
MRS HEMSTOCK: Tha’s more fondness for that goose than I han, Nurse. It’s too much like him. Birds of a feather flock together.
NURSE: You include me.
MRS HEMSTOCK: If tha likes.
NURSE: It’s not a compliment.
MRS HEMSTOCK: It isna. Tha’rt a lady, an’ han a lady’s time, an’ tha’rt a fool if tha changes.
NURSE: I am not so sure —
MRS HEMSTOCK: Tha gets a good wage, an’ th’ minute tha enters a house everybody gets up to run about after thee. What more dost want?
NURSE: I don’t know.
MRS HEMSTOCK: No, I s’d think tha doesna.
NURSE: Sometimes I get tired, and then — I wish — I wish I’d somebody to fad after me a bit. I nurse so many people, and —
MRS HEMSTOCK: Tha’d like nursin’ thysen. Eh, bless you, a man’s knee’s a chair as is soon worn out.
NURSE: It’s not that — I should like a home of my own, where I could be private. There’s a lonely corner in most of us that not all the friends in the world can fill up —
MRS HEMSTOCK: And a husband only changes a lonely corner into a lonely house.
NURSE: Perhaps so. But I should like to be able to shut my own doors, and shut all the world out, and be at home, quiet, comfortable.
MRS HEMSTOCK: You’d find you shut the door to stop folks hearing you crying.
NURSE (bending down and stroking Patty): Perhaps so.
MRS HEMSTOCK: Tha art fond o’ that bird.
NURSE (flushing): I am.
MRS HEMSTOCK: If I wor thee, our Harry, I wouldna let Patty beat me, even.
HARRY: What dost mean?
MRS HEMSTOCK: Stroke him, Nurse — and say “Poor old Harry”.
NURSE: Mr Hemstock will have a grudge against me if you slate him so in my presence.
MRS HEMSTOCK: And would it grieve thee?
NURSE: I should be sorry.
MRS HEMSTOCK (after a pause — vehemently): Ha, if he worn’t such a slow fool! Can thee lift me back, Nurse?
NURSE: Won’t you let Mr Hemstock — ?
MRS HEMSTOCK: No — thee do it.
Exit HARRY.
Did ter niver ha’e a sweetheart, Nurse?
NURSE: Yes — when I was in the hospital. He was a doctor.
MRS HEMSTOCK: An’ where is he?
NURSE: He was too good for me, his mother said, and so —
MRS HEMSTOCK: Tha’rt well rid o’ such a draggletail. How long is it since?
NURSE: Eight years.
MRS HEMSTOCK: Oh, so tha’rt none heartbroken. We’n got a new assistant. I like him better than the owd doctor. His name’s Foules.
NURSE: What!
CURTAIN
SCENE II
Time: the same. The kitchen of HEMSTOCK’S house, a large, low, old-fashioned room. Fowls are pecking on the floor. HARRY, in a coarse apron, is washing the floor. MR HEMSTOCK, at the table, is mixing flour in a bowl.
MR HEMSTOCK: Who wor that scraightin’ a bit sin’?
HARRY: Our Susy’s kid.
MR HEMSTOCK: What for?
HARRY: I fetched him a wipe across th’ mouth.
MR HEMSTOCK: There’s more bother then —
HARRY: He was settin’ that dog on th’ fowls again.
MR HEMSTOCK: We s’ll be having her round in a tear, directly, then.
HARRY: Well, I’m not —
There is a knock: and in the open doorway at the back a little, withered, old clergyman, the BARON, is seen.
BARON: How is the sick woman this morning? (He speaks with a very foreign German accent.)
MR HEMSTOCK: I think she’s middlin’, thank you.
BARON: I will go and see her, and speak to her.
HARRY: We’ve told you a dozen times ‘er na wants you.
BARON: It is my duty that I shall go —
HARRY (rising from his knees): Tha are na — !
BARON: I am the vicar of this parish. I am the Baron von Ruge. I will do my duty —
HARRY (confronting him): Tha’rt na goin’ to bother her. Her na wants thee.
BARON: Stand clear of my way, sir — I will go, I will not be barred, I will go to her, I will remind her —
HARRY (frustrating his efforts): ‘Er na wants thee —
He suddenly moves: the BARON rushes into Patty. The goose flaps and squawks and attacks him. The BARON retreats hastily. Enter NURSE.
NURSE: Whatever is the matter?
MR HEMSTOCK: It’s Patty haulin’ the Baron out —
NURSE: Oh dear — how dreadful!
MR HEMSTOCK: ‘E’s bin plenty of times, an’ every time our Harry tells ‘im as Missis won’t be bothered wi’ him —
NURSE: What a pity she won’t see him. Don’t you think if you let him go —
HARRY: Ask ‘er thysen if ‘er wants ‘im — an’ if ‘er doesna want ‘im, ‘e’s na goin’ —
NURSE: But what a pity — !
MR HEMSTOCK: You can’t make heads or tails of what ‘e says. I can’t think what they want wi’ a bit of a German Baron bein’ a vicar in England — in this country an’ a’, where there wants a bluff man.
NURSE: He’s a Polish nobleman, Mr Hemstock, exiled after fighting for his country. He’s a brave man, and a good gentleman. I like him very much.
MR HEMSTOCK: He treats you as if you was dirt, an’ talks like a chokin’ cock —
HARRY: An’ ‘e’s na goin’ pesterin’ ‘er when ‘er doesna want ‘im.
NURSE: Well, of course you know best — but don’t you think Mrs Hemstock ought to see a minister? I think —
Enter the BAKER, a big, stout, pale man of about forty.
BAKER: Been havin’ a shindy with the Baron?
MR HEMSTOCK: He wants to see the Missis, an’ we not let him.
BAKER: You’d best keep th’ right side of ‘im. (He swings his large basket, which he carries sackwise on his shoulder, down to a chair.) The strike is settled, an’ th’ men’s goin’ back on the old terms.
NURSE: Oh, I’m so glad.
BAKER: Fisher’s a deep ‘un. The Company’ll know yet as they’ve got a manager.
NURSE (to HARRY): So you’ll be going back to work soon, Mr Hemstock. You will be glad.
MR HEMSTOCK: Me — I s’ll never work again. An’ it’s doubtful as our Harry won’t get on —
BAKER: They gave you a place before the strike, didn’t they, where you had to work you inside out for about fifteen shillings a week?
HARRY: Ha.
He goes out.
MR HEMSTOCK: Yes, they treated him very shabbily.
BAKER: I bet it was th’ owd Baron. He’s a good hand at having your eye for a word, an’ your tooth for a look. I bet Harry’ll get no job —
MR HEMSTOCK: No, I’m afraid ‘e wunna. The Baron will go down to Fisher —
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BAKER: And Harry can go down to — his godfather, eh, Nurse?
NURSE: I don’t understand.
BAKER: Old Harry.
MR HEMSTOCK: I hope to goodness ‘e will get something to do, else ‘e’ll mope himself into the cut, or the ‘sylum, afore long.
BAKER: Oh, it’s love what’s upset him, isn’t it? Rachel Wilcox was too much for his stomach —
MR HEMSTOCK: I dunno what it is.
BAKER: She’s a bit of a ronk ‘un. She was his first cigar, an’ it’s left him sick yet. She’s not half bad, you know, if you can stand ‘em strong.
NURSE goes out.
I’ve scared Nurse off. — But Harry’s got a bit of a thin stomach, hasn’t he? Rachel’s not a half bad little ha-p’orth.
MR HEMSTOCK: Some’s got a stomach for tan-tafflins, an’ some ‘ud rather ha’e bread an’ butter —
BAKER: And Rachel’s creamy — she’s a cream horn of plenty — eh, what?
MR HEMSTOCK: A bit sickly.
BAKER: I dunno — it ‘ud take a lot o’ rich food to turn me. How many — ?
MR HEMSTOCK: One of yesterday’s bakin’, please.
BAKER sets the loaf on the table.
BAKER: Your Susy wa’nt in — I wonder what she wants. Where is she, do you know?
MR HEMSTOCK: She’ll be somewhere lookin’ after th’ land.
BAKER: I reckon she makes a rare farmer.
MR HEMSTOCK: Yes.
BAKER: Bill left the place in a bit of a mess —
MR HEMSTOCK: A man as drinks himself to death —
BAKER: Ay! She wishes she’d had me astead of him, she says. I tell her it’s never too late to mend. He’s made the hole, I’ll be the patch. But it’s not much of a place, Smalley’s farm — ?
MR HEMSTOCK: It takes her all her time to manage an’ pay off Bill’s debts.
BAKER: Debts — why, I thought from what she said —
Enter SUSY SMALLEY, a buxom, ruddy, bold woman of thirty-five, wearing thick boots and a dark blue milkmaid bonnet.
MRS SMALLEY: Wheer’s our Harry?
MR HEMSTOCK: I dunno. ‘E went out a bit sin’ —
MRS SMALLEY: An’ wheer is ‘e? I’ll let him know whether he’s —
Enter HARRY.
Oh, I’ve foun’ thee, have I? What dost reckon tha’s been doin’ to my lad?
HARRY: Tha nedna ha’ hunted for me. I wor nobbut i’ th’ garden.
BAKER: You should ha’ looked in th’ parsley bed, Susy.
MRS SMALLEY: That’s wheer to find babies — an’ I’ll baby him. What did thee hit my lad for?
HARRY: Ask thysen.
MRS SMALLEY: I’m axin’ thee. Tha thinks because I hanna a man to stand up for me, tha can —
HARRY: There’s a lot o’ helpless widder about thee!
MRS SMALLEY: No, an’ it’s a good thing I’m not helpless, else I should be trod underfoot like straw, by a parcel of —
HARRY: It’s tha as does th’ treadin’. Tha’s trod your Bill a long way underfoot — six foot or more.
BAKER: It’s a fat sight deeper than that afore you get to blazes.
MRS SMALLEY: Whatever our Bill was or wan’t, ‘e was not a’ idle skilk livin’ on two old folks, devourin’ ‘em.
NURSE (entering): Oh, think of your mother, Mrs Smalley.
MRS SMALLEY: I s’ll think of who I like —
BAKER: An’ who do you like, Susy?
MRS SMALLEY: You keep your “Susy” to yourself —
BAKER: Only too glad, when I get her —
MRS SMALLEY: An’ we don’t thank Nurse Broadbanks for interferin’. She only comes carneyin’ round for what she gets. Our Harry an’ her’s matched; a pair of mealy-mouthed creeps, deep as they make ‘em. An’ my father’s not much better. What all of ‘em’s after’s my mother’s money.
NURSE: Oh, for shame, for shame!
HARRY: Shut thy mouth, or I’ll shut it for thee.
MRS SMALLEY: Oh, shall you? I should like to see you. It’s as much as you durst do to hit a child, you great coward, you kid.
MR HEMSTOCK: Shut it up, now, shut it up!
MRS SMALLEY: But I’ll let him know, if he touches my child again; I’ll give him what for. I’ll thrash him myself —
BAKER: That’s your brother, not your husband.
MRS SMALLEY: I will an’ a’. Him an’ his blessed fowls! ‘E’s nobbut a chuck himself, as dursn’t say boh to a goose, an’ as hides in th’ water-butt if his girl comes to see him —
HARRY dashes forward as if to strike her. The BAKER interposes.
BAKER: Here, none o’ that, none o’ that!
MRS SMALLEY: A great coward! He thinks he’ll show Nurse Broadbanks what he is, does he? I hope she’ll storm round him after this bit.
HARRY (in a fury): If tha doesn’t —
MR HEMSTOCK: Let’s have no more of it, let’s have no more of it —
BAKER: How much bread, Mrs Smalley? I reckon your Bill bettered himself when he flitted — what? I don’t think. How many loaves? I saved you a crusty one.
MR HEMSTOCK: She’s crust enough on her —
BAKER: Oh, I like ‘em a bit brown. Good morning, everybody.
He swings up his basket and follows MRS SMALLEY out.
NURSE: How shameful to make a disturbance like that!
MR HEMSTOCK: We never have a bit of peace. She won’t do a hand’s turn in the house, and seems as if she can’t bear herself because we manage without her.
HARRY: She’s after the money.
NURSE: How dreadful! You are a strange family.
She goes into the parlour again, and keeps coming in and out with water ewer and so on. MR HEMSTOCK flourishes his balls of dough. HARRY puts on the saucepan.
MR HEMSTOCK: Dost think Job Arthur will marry our Susy?
HARRY: No.
MR HEMSTOCK: He seems to hang round her a good bit. Your mother often says he lets his bread get stale stoppin’ there.
HARRY: If ‘e married ‘er, ‘e’ll settle her.
MR HEMSTOCK: Yes — he’s all there.
HARRY: All but what he’s short to pay his debts.
He goes out.
NURSE: I think I’ve done everything, Mr Hemstock.
She begins packing her black bag.
MR HEMSTOCK: Could you wait half a minute while I go — to Goddard’s?
NURSE: Well — ten minutes.
The old man takes a jar from the cupboard, and puts on his hat. At the door he meets the doctor, a clean-shaven fair man rather full at the stomach and low at the chest.
DR FOULES: Good morning, Mr Hemstock — you are going out?
MR HEMSTOCK: For a second, Doctor, just to the shop.
DR FOULES: I see. Then shall I go in?
MR HEMSTOCK: Oh, yes, Doctor.
DR FOULES: Thank you.
He enters. NURSE is just putting on her bonnet. The doctor stands confused.
NURSE (low and purring): Good morning.
DR FOULES: Nurse Broadbanks!
NURSE (low): Yes — just fancy.
DR FOULES: Well. I am surprised. Who ever —
NURSE: I knew it was you. No other doctor would have been so polite about entering the house.
DR FOULES: Well — I can hardly find words — I am sure —
NURSE: Fancy your keeping your old shyness.
DR FOULES (flushing): I don’t know that I do —
NURSE: I should have thought it would have worn off — all the experience you have had.
DR FOULES: Have I had so much experience?
NURSE: Eight years.
Complete Works of D.H. Lawrence Page 740