LITMIR.BIZ

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Deuce you did! Shall I agree with it?

      MAYOR. We shall see. We want to nominate you for Mayor. You willin' to stand?

      BUILDER. [Stolid] That requires consideration.

      MAYOR. The only alternative is Chantrey; but he's a light weight, and rather too much County. What's your objection?

      BUILDER. It's a bit unexpected, Mayor. [Looks at HARRIS] Am I the right man? Following you, you know. I'm shooting with Chantrey to-morrow. What does he feel about it?

      MAYOR. What do you say, 'Arris?

      HARRIS. Mr Chantrey's a public school and University man, Sir; he's not what I call ambitious.

      BUILDER. Nor am I, Harris.

      HARRIS. No, sir; of course you've a high sense of duty. Mr Chantrey's rather dilettante.

      MAYOR. We want a solid man.

      BUILDER. I'm very busy, you know, Mayor.

      MAYOR. But you've got all the qualifications—big business, family man, live in the town, church-goer, experience on the Council and the Bench. Better say "yes," Builder.

      BUILDER. It's a lot of extra work. I don't take things up lightly.

      MAYOR. Dangerous times, these. Authority questioned all over the place. We want a man that feels his responsibilities, and we think we've got him in you.

      BUILDER. Very good of you, Mayor. I don't know, I'm sure. I must think of the good of the town.

      HARRIS. I shouldn't worry about that, sir.

      MAYOR. The name John Builder carries weight. You're looked up to as a man who can manage his own affairs. Madam and the young ladies well?

      BUILDER. First-rate.

      MAYOR. [Rises] That's right. Well, if you'd like to talk it over with Chantrey to-morrow. With all this extremism, we want a man of principle and common sense.

      HARRIS. We want a man that'll grasp the nettle, sir—and that's you.

      BUILDER. Hm! I've got a temper, you know.

      MAYOR. [Chuckling] We do—we do! You'll say "yes," I see. No false modesty! Come along, 'Arris, we must go.

      BUILDER. Well, Mayor, I'll think it over, and let you have an answer. You know my faults, and you know my qualities, such as they are. I'm just a plain Englishman.

      MAYOR. We don't want anything better than that. I always say the great point about an Englishman is that he's got bottom; you may knock him off his pins, but you find him on 'em again before you can say "Jack Robinson." He may have his moments of aberration, but he's a sticker. Morning, Builder, morning! Hope you'll say "yes."

      He shakes hands and goes out, followed by HARRIS.

      When the door is dosed BUILDER stands a moment quite still with a gratified smile on his face; then turns and scrutinises himself in the glass over the hearth. While he is doing so the door from the dining-room is opened quietly and CAMILLE comes in. BUILDER, suddenly seeing her reflected in the mirror, turns.

      BUILDER. What is it, Camille?

      CAMILLE. Madame send me for a letter she say you have, Monsieur, from the dyer and cleaner, with a bill.

      BUILDER. [Feeling in his pockets] Yes—no. It's on the table.

      CAMILLE goes to the writing-table and looks. That blue thing.

      CAMILLE. [Taking it up] Non, Monsieur, this is from the gas.

      BUILDER. Oh! Ah!

      [He moves up to the table and turns over papers. CAMILLE stands motionless close by with her eyes fixed on him.]

      Here it is!

      [He looks up, sees her looking at him, drops his own gaze, and hands her the letter. Their hands touch. Putting his hands in his pockets]

      What made you come to England?

      CAMILLE. [Demure] It is better pay, Monsieur, and [With a smile] the English are so amiable.

      BUILDER. Deuce they are! They haven't got that reputation.

      CAMILLE. Oh! I admire Englishmen. They are so strong and kind.

      BUILDER. [Bluffly flattered] H'm! We've no manners.

      CAMILLE. The Frenchman is more polite, but not in the 'eart.

      BUILDER. Yes. I suppose we're pretty sound at heart.

      CAMILLE. And the Englishman have his life in the family—the Frenchman have his life outside.

      BUILDER. [With discomfort] H'm!

      CAMILLE. [With a look] Too mooch in the family—like a rabbit in a 'utch.

      BUILDER. Oh! So that's your view of us! [His eyes rest on her, attracted but resentful].

      CAMILLE. Pardon, Monsieur, my tongue run away with me.

      BUILDER. [Half conscious of being led on] Are you from Paris?

      CAMILLE. [Clasping her hands] Yes. What a town for pleasure—Paris!

      BUILDER. I suppose so. Loose place, Paris.

      CAMILLE. Loose? What is that, Monsieur?

      BUILDER. The opposite of strict.

      CAMILLE. Strict! Oh! certainly we like life, we other French. It is not like England. I take this to Madame, Monsieur. [She turns as if to go] Excuse me.

      BUILDER. I thought you Frenchwomen all married young.

      CAMILLE. I 'ave been married; my 'usband did die—en Afrique.

      BUILDER. You wear no ring.

      CAMILLE. [Smiling] I prefare to be mademoiselle, Monsieur.

      BUILDER. [Dubiously] Well, it's all the same to us. [He takes a letter up from the table] You might take this to Mrs Builder too. [Again their fingers touch, and there is a suspicion of encounter between their eyes.]

      CAMILLE goes out.

      BUILDER. [Turning to his chair] Don't know about that woman—she's a tantalizer.

      He compresses his lips, and is settling back into his chair, when the door from the hall is opened and his daughter MAUD comes in; a pretty girl, rather pale, with fine eyes. Though her face has a determined cast her manner at this moment is by no means decisive. She has a letter in her hand, and advances rather as if she were stalking her father, who, after a "Hallo, Maud!" has begun to read his paper.

      MAUD. [Getting as far as the table] Father.

      BUILDER. [Not lowering the paper] Well? I know that tone. What do you want—money?

      MAUD. I always want money, of course; but—but—

      BUILDER. [Pulling out a note-abstractedly] Here's five pounds for you.

      MAUD, advancing, takes it, then seems to find what she has come for more on her chest than ever.

      BUILDER. [Unconscious] Will you take a letter for me?

      MAUD sits down Left of table and prepares to take down the letter.

      [Dictating] "Dear Mr Mayor,—Referring to your call this morning, I have —er—given the matter very careful consideration, and though somewhat reluctant—"

      MAUD. Are you really reluctant, father?

      BUILDER. Go on—"To assume greater responsibilities, I feel it my duty to come forward in accordance with your wish. The—er—honour is one of which I hardly feel myself worthy, but you may rest assured—"

      MAUD. Worthy. But you do, you know.

      BUILDER. Look here! Are you trying to get a rise out of me?—because you won't succeed this morning.

      MAUD. I thought you were trying to get one out of me.

      BUILDER. Well, how would you express it?

      MAUD. "I know I'm the best man for the place, and so do you—"

      BUILDER. The disrespect of you young people is something

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