by Oriel Gray
RUFUS: But you cleaned it?
CHRISTY: [taken aback] Just to prove my point though!
JOCK: [who can’t resist baiting CHRISTY] He cleaned it all right, Mr Torrent… the lassie tricked him into that finally!
CHRISTY: Taking her side, you old petticoat-chaser? ‘Mister Christy’ she calls me! Mister!
BERNIE: She might mean to be polite, Christy.
CHRISTY: [getting himself annoyed] And who is she… her with her pink blouse and her sailor hat, to come being polite to Christy Blades? Furthermore, I said to her, by God, a woman’s place is in the home!
JOCK: [surprised by this phrase. Even RUFUS nods approval] That’s verra well put… oreaginal…
CHRISTY: [basking in the approval] Oh, I ain’t been putting words together at a frame for fifty years without learning how to string a couple together in my head. I remember one time I was working on a newspaper—
RUFUS: [deciding this has gone far enough] So from all this, I gather that you men are not at all contented to continue working here with Miss Milford?
BERNIE would love to speak out but just can’t manage it. JOCK hesitates.
JOCK: We-ll, Mr Torrent… It’s not so much us. But you mind those new men you promised we’d be getting…
RUFUS is amused… he knows this is blackmail.
RUFUS: I haven’t forgotten, Jock. Just as soon as this matter is settled.
JOCK: We might manage to rub along with the lass—
BERNIE: Oh, yes… !
He gets quenching looks from the others.
JOCK:—but if we’ve got the new men to consider—they might not care to work with a lady.
RUFUS: We have all worked together here so harmoniously in the past that I would not like to see that harmony upset… If you wish it, when Miss Milford returns from her lunch, I will put your objections before her.
JENNY has walked in. She takes the situation in—she has been waiting for something like this. She comes as a shock to them, even to RUFUS.
Oh—Miss Milford, Jock and Christy came to see me on this question of your continued employment here… you remember… a trial period… ?
JOCK: Well, Mr Torrent, it was you that came and asked for our opinion.
RUFUS: I felt it was my duty to discover the feelings of the rest of my staff. They—have an objection…
JENNY: You mean you would like my resignation?
BERNIE: Oh, no… !
He gets glared at by everybody.
RUFUS: Thank you, Miss Milford…
JENNY: I shan’t give it!
General stupefaction!
Has my work been so unsatisfactory?
RUFUS: On the contrary, you are very efficient. When you leave us, Miss Milford, I will be happy to give you the best of references. I shall simply say that circumstances over which we had no control necessitated your resignation… and that any future employer will be gaining an asset—
JENNY: So long as he has more control over the circumstances.
RUFUS: Shall we be honest, Miss Milford—
JENNY: I would prefer it.
RUFUS: A printing office of a newspaper is no place for a member of the female sex. It is a place for men of the world—violent and terrible happenings are its very life’s blood. There is no protection for natural womanly weakness. Sometimes, the language—the language is not fit for your ears.
JENNY: Then you should all be ashamed! You are worrying about the language heard by a well travelled and experienced person of twenty-eight, but you don’t care what comes to the ears of a sheltered fifteen year old—
JENNY points dramatically at BERNIE. BERNIE blushes to the tips of his ears.
BERNIE: Sixteen come January, Miss.
RUFUS: [sanctimoniously] I hope you men do keep a close watch on your tongues when the boy is with you.
JENNY seizes her advantage.
JENNY: So far as I am concerned, Mr Torrent, I have never heard anything said in my presence that might not have been said by a gentleman… a gentleman under stress, sometimes… but always a gentleman.
RUFUS has to turn away to hide his involuntary grin—she has turned it neatly.
JOCK: Oh, lassie—lassie…
JENNY: Mr MacDonald—you’ve been kind. You’re good enough at your own work to know that mine, too, is well enough in its way. Why do you object to me?
JOCK: Well—a fair question deserves a fair reply. I don’t object to you meself, lassie. You’re a good worker and a pleasant speaker, and I suppose I could get used to the sight of a bit of petticoat going up the stairs every day. But if the others are unhappy about you—and if Mr Torrent’s not easy in his mind about getting those new men I need so badly—[Lamely] well, I’ve got to think of what’s best for everyone, don’t I?
CHRISTY looks at JOCK with scorn. BERNIE is looking at JENNY.
CHRISTY: [to JOCK] A bit of petticoat—
JENNY: And you, Mr Christy—why do you wish to see me gone?
CHRISTY: Well, I—[Produces his masterpiece] Because a woman’s place is in the home!
JENNY: So, when I am put out of my work here, Mr Christy, will you take me into your home?
CHRISTY: I’m a bachelor!
JENNY: A very good reason for employing me in your home. I should manage it better than many of your home-bred women. Teaching a woman to do her work well in an office is not going to stop her doing it well in the house. On the contrary—
RUFUS: I think this discussion is becoming pointless—
Obviously RUFUS wants to end it, because JENNY has made some points. He walks into his office. He sits at his desk, takes up proofs… it is obvious from his attitude that the dismissal of JENNY hasn’t gone the way he thought it would. In the outer office, JOCK, CHRISTY, BERNIE shuffle.
JOCK: There’s work waiting…
They start out.
Look lass, I’m sorry, but it’s not the proper station of life to which the Lord’s called you, see. It’s not your fault.
They go out, BERNIE looking back, JENNY opens her desk and begins to take out some personal belongings, including a lace handkerchief. RUFUS comes from his office, JENNY is over at the hat-stand taking her hat off the hook when RUFUS comes out of the inner office. JENNY is near to tears, but defiant. RUFUS is a little ashamed. They look at each other. RUFUS gets his hat from the hat-stand. He starts out, stops by the desk… he looks at the collection of JENNY’s personal belongings… without thinking he picks up a handkerchief… sniffs the perfume… realises what he is doing and drops it back. JENNY seen, watching him.
RUFUS: I am going out, Miss Milford—
He turns back.
I am sorry, Miss Milford.
JENNY: When I began here, Mr Torrent, they told me you were a hard man—hard but just. I see they were mistaken.
RUFUS: I suppose I do seem unjust to you. As for my hardness, I am sorry for it. But I set myself a task here—and hardness is unavoidable.
JENNY: Oh, I don’t think you’re hard, Mr Torrent! I think you’re rather soft. Well, it is soft to get rid of someone who can be an asset to your business… and you know I can be… because you haven’t the strength to be different. It’s rather sad.
RUFUS: [lividly] I do as I see fit!
JENNY: They said that, too. ‘There’ll be women working everywhere in Koolgalla soon,’ they said—‘now that Rufus Torrent has shown the way.’ Oh, most of them didn’t approve of the idea but they couldn’t help—admiring. None of them would have had the courage to engage a woman to work for them. [Comfortingly] I expect it will be quite a relief to them that you hadn’t, either.
RUFUS looks at her. He appraises her move. He is moved to unwilling admiration.
RUFUS: Miss Milford, you may stay. I would refuse to accept your resignation if you offered it. I will be back in an hour. When I return, I expect to find the advertisements listed, the page make-ups ready for my initialling, and the Council Meeting notes typed up…
JENNY: [controlling her triumph she
says obediently] Yes, Mr Torrent.
RUFUS picks up a type-written page from her desk.
RUFUS: Miss Milford—you have an unfortunate tendency in otherwise excellent spelling to refuse to recognise that ‘E I’ generally follows ‘C’. Watch that.
JENNY nods obediently.
JENNY: Yes, Mr Torrent.
At the door RUFUS turns back.
RUFUS: I hope you realise that I saw the trap that you set for me. No doubt you feel you have achieved a victory. No doubt you have. But since you have chosen to un-sex yourself, do not expect any tolerance for feminine weaknesses. [A warning] One mistake, Miss Milford!… I will be back at two o’clock.
RUFUS goes out. JENNY expresses her delight by putting her belongings back in the desk drawer, hanging her hat back on its peg, dipping a curtsy to the hat stand. MANSON comes in as JENNY is having her little triumphal play. He waits till she sweeps out of the curtsy.
MANSON: Does the King of Ireland make you bow to his hat-stand, Miss Milford?
JENNY is angry at being caught.
That was a very pretty gesture. What was it for?
JENNY: [going to her typewriter] Since there can be no reasonable explanation, Mr Manson, I’ll attempt none. Mr Torrent has just gone out.
MANSON: I heard him. I was in the printing room, looking at some proofs… something to do with a bit of a scheme of mine. I don’t believe in putting all my eggs in one basket… Where’s Ben?
JENNY: [always very terse with MANSON] Mr Ben Torrent has not come in yet.
MANSON: Where can I find him?
JENNY: I really don’t know, Mr Manson, he may be in Court or—
MANSON: Anywhere… places a lady can’t mention.
JENNY looks at him coolly.
I like Ben. I’d like a boy like Ben. [A deep anger] Hell, I deserve a boy like Ben…
JENNY begins to type.
Do you like Ben, Miss Milford?
JENNY: I enjoy working here, Mr Manson, with all the staff—
MANSON: Even Rufus Torrent, the King of Ireland.
JENNY catches her nail in the keys. She sucks her finger briefly and angrily.
A bit jumpy today, Miss Milford… ? When Ben comes in, tell him I’ll give him a good lunch at the Travellers’ Arms… Bubbly in the middle of the day… Y’know something, Miss Milford… ?
JENNY looks up to him.
Twenty-five years, I couldn’t’ ve imagined bubbly at all… dirt poor I was… then it was pay dirt. All dirt, though—
MANSON starts out, swings back.
I know you don’t like me but I like you. I wouldn’t allow a woman of mine to work like a man—but it must take guts. Don’t forget to tell Ben I asked him.
BERNIE passes MANSON in the doorway. BERNIE is carrying some proofs. MANSON is aware of BERNIE’s look at JENNY. A great deal of MANSON’s success has come from catching people off guard and he never loses an opportunity—not even with BERNIE.
Don’t go turning the boy’s head now, Miss Milford—
He goes.
BERNIE: I suppose you think a man showed up in a very poor light, Miss Milford—not taking your part.
JENNY: [glancing through proofs] What man… ?
BERNIE: Why—me, Miss Milford!
JENNY: You!
She has an impulse to laugh. Then, with his eyes on her, her genuine kindliness prevents this.
Of course—you.
BERNIE: I’ve been worrying about not speaking out.
JENNY: That’s happened to most of us—not speaking out about something, and then being sorry for it. But there always comes another chance.
BERNIE: Not to speak out for—you.
JENNY: For something more than me next time. But thank you.
BEN is heard downstairs, calling ‘Jenny’… He comes in.
BEN: What’s all this nonsense about deputations and resignations? You’re not to go away. I don’t want you to go away!
JENNY looks at him. She is aggravated by his peremptory manner. But she is charming to BERNIE.
JENNY: I’ll read this immediately, Bernie—it is all right to call you ‘Bernie’?
BERNIE: [overwhelmed] Oh, yes, Miss Milford!
He exits, very happy. JENNY goes back to desk, starts skimming through proofs. She can’t contain her annoyance with BEN.
JENNY: I don’t think you should call me by my Christian name, Mr Torrent. It doesn’t look well. I have had quite enough trouble in this office without being suspected of undue familiarity—with my employer’s son!
BEN: [laughing] You sound like a subscription library… [Posturing] Sir, I may be but a poor working girl, but my honour means as much to me as to the finest lady in the land!
JENNY has to laugh.
Anyway, you can be free with first names to Bernie.
JENNY: That is rather a different matter…
She continues to mark the proof. BEN props against the filing cabinet, looks at her.
BEN: Why don’t you like me, Jenny?
JENNY: I don’t dislike you, Ben—
BEN: First name at last!
JENNY: [crossly] Oh, since you won’t maintain a proper discipline, don’t expect me to maintain it for you! I don’t dislike you. Everybody likes you. But you’re so very, very—[Hesitates for word.]
BEN: Is ‘spoiled’ the word you’re looking for?
JENNY: I didn’t mean to be rude—
BEN begins to play with the blocks, building a house of them on top of the filing cabinet as he talks.
BEN: I’m Ben Torrent—good position, good prospects, tolerable looks—oh, don’t prim up your mouth, Jenny! I inherited my looks from my father, as I inherited everything else—except my lack of private enterprise and public spirit. That’s fortunate Koolgalla couldn’t stand two public-spirited Torrents. [Positive] You’re not leaving. I won’t have it.
JENNY: That has already been decided—between your father and me. Mr Torrent saw my side of the situation.
BEN: Presented with a certain feminine subtlety?
JENNY: I hope you don’t think I cried into my handkerchief—or fluttered my eyelashes?
BEN: Would I suspect you of such cheap tricks? But you’re not such a fool that you wouldn’t use all your capabilities. You’re an independent woman—not an imitation man… ! And clever women have the advantage, every time.
BEN comes close to her.
You know that’s true, don’t you, Jenny?
JENNY: Well, Mister—Ben. If I wished to catch a mouse, I wouldn’t consider it a proof of independence that I hit it on the head with a hammer… not while there are mousetraps and cheese for the purpose.
She goes out with the proof. BEN sits on desk, laughing. He picks up the handkerchief she has left behind and smells the perfume.
ACT ONE CURTAIN
ACT TWO
SCENE ONE
Three weeks later. A meeting of directors is in progress at the office. A big table has been moved in for the occasion, jamming the room. RUFUS sits easily at the head of it, with JENNY at her desk behind him and to one side. The other five directors and shareholders sit on either side.
MANSON, big and dominant; SQUIRES, a shrewd rather mean little man; TWIMPLE, pleasant but ineffectual, very much in awe of both RUFUS and MANSON; the STUWELLS, father and son, father the leading storekeeper—rather pompous. With his bored son, Charlie. At the opposite end of the table to RUFUS sits BEN, coiled like a spring, tense, watching KINGSLEY MYERS who has been addressing the meeting. KINGSLEY hasn’t much hope, but he’s still trying.
KINGSLEY: … and as you gentleman can see from these plans [Bending over plans laid out on table] it would be possible to pipe streams of water from the main source and to divert them, where necessary, over land in cultivation. This portion here, which would flow across Simmerton’s Flat—
MANSON: Happens that’s the richest gold bearing ground on the fields, Kingsley—but then so’s the rest of the land you’re after. And you want to plant—cabbages—on it!
They all laugh.
STUWELL SNR: One of the richest fields in that country, that was—
BEN: Was.
STUWELL SNR: Is. Plenty of it there still. Isn’t that so, Charlie. Speak up son.
CHARLIE: Loads.
He resumes his covert studying of JENNY, to which she replies with a chilling look and tucks her ankles well under her skirt.
TWIMPLE: Now if we could combine both enterprises satisfactorily…
He looks hopefully at KINGSLEY, for MR TWIMPLE likes things to go pleasantly.
KINGSLEY: [definitely] Impossible, Mr Twimple. You can’t plant gold gentlemen. Once it’s gone, the land lies dead and useless. But plant and water and harvest—put your work back into the land, and the land is grateful for it.
SQUIRES: The land may be—er—grateful Mr Myers, but what about the people to work it.
MANSON smacks his hand approvingly on the desk.
There are farms all over the country crying out for men—and they can’t get them! And it’s not money—the wages being offered are higher than ever before—but still the men stay on the fields. Not only the farms going short-handed, either—ships, stores—that is so, isn’t it Mr Stuwell?
STUWELL SNR: There’s a notice in my left window at this moment—‘Man wanted!’—been there for months. And what did we get in all that time… ?
CHARLIE: [unexpectedly animated] Little fellow in a lavender striped shirt—worked for us for a week, then took his pay out in tools, and joined up with Mike O’Brien in French’s Gully.
STUWELL SNR: That’s right son—speak up. And Charlie here’s been doing every hands turn about the place ever since.
CHARLIE: Damned dullish…
MANSON: There’s your point, Myers. I’ve got nothing against new ideas—I like to see things go ahead. There’s always something in progress for the go-ahead man, and I like a fight of any kind—apart from the money to win. But Squires’s got you—who’s going to do the work? Some of Torrent’s Irish pixies, maybe?
He laughs, followed by the others. RUFUS looks at a portion of the wall through MANSON’s head.
KINGSLEY: [after a swift and bitter glance at RUFUS] I see that Mr Torrent has already discussed his objections with you gentlemen. He pointed out to me earlier that he did not believe that the town will give up their chance of easy fortune for such a scheme as this.