And a wonderful lot o' books, if you feel inclined for a read one of
these days.
COOK'S Voice. Faith!
FAITH sets down the salt cellar in her hand, puts her tongue out a
very little, and goes out into the hall. MR BLY is gathering up his
pail and cloths when MR MARCH enters at the window.
MR MARCH. So it's fixed up, Mr Bly.
BLY. [Raising himself] I'd like to shake your 'and, sir. [They shake
hands] It's a great weight off my mind.
MR MARCH. It's rather a weight on my wife's, I'm afraid. But we must
hope for the best. The country wants rain, but--I doubt if we shall get
it with this Government.
BLY. Ah! We want the good old times-when you could depend on the
seasons. The further you look back the more dependable the times get;
'ave you noticed that, sir?
MR MARCH. [Suddenly] Suppose they'd hanged your daughter, Mr Bly. What
would you have done?
BLY. Well, to be quite frank, I should 'ave got drunk on it.
MR MARCH. Public opinion's always in advance of the Law. I think your
daughter's a most pathetic little figure.
BLY. Her looks are against her. I never found a man that didn't.
MR MARCH. [A little disconcerted] Well, we'll try and give her a good
show here.
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