Part 29

THE THIRD ACT

SCENE:—A room in the Town Hall, Poplar. A high, bare, cold room, unfurnished except for cane-bottomed chairs ranged against the walls. French windows right give on to a balcony overlooking the street. Door in back opens upon a stone passage. A larger door opens into another room, through which one passes to reach the room in which the counting of the votes is taking place. A fire burns—or rather tries to burn. The room is lighted from the centre of the ceiling by an electric sun. A row of hat-pegs is on the wall between the two doors. The time is about 9 p.m.

(People entering from the street wear coats or cloaks, &c., the season being early spring. If passing through or staying in the room, they take off their outdoor things and hang them up, putting them on again before going out.)

(JAWBONES is coaxing the reluctant fire by using a newspaper as a blower. He curses steadily under his breath. The door opens. GINGER enters; she is dressed in cheap furs.)

JAWBONES. Shut the door, can’t yer!

GINGER. Don’t yer want a draught?

JAWBONES. No, I don’t. Not any more than I’ve got.

GINGER. (She shuts the door.) ’Ave they begun counting the votes?

JAWBONES. Been at it for the last three-quarters of an hour.

GINGER. Who’s going to win?

JAWBONES. One of ’em.

(LADY MOGTON has entered. She has come from the room where they are counting the votes.)

Shut that door! (He glances over his shoulder, sees his mistake.) Beg pardon! (To himself.) Thought ’twas the other fool!

LADY MOGTON. (She shuts the door. To GINGER.) Have you seen Mrs. Chilvers?

GINGER. Not since the afternoon, your ladyship.

LADY MOGTON. She is coming, I suppose?

GINGER. I think so, your ladyship.

LADY MOGTON. It’s very cold in here, Gordon.

JAWBONES. Yes, my lady. Not what I call a cosy room.

LADY MOGTON. (To GINGER.) Jump into a cab. See if you can find her. Perhaps she has been detained at one of the committee-rooms. Tell her she ought to be here.

GINGER. Yes, your ladyship. (She crosses, opens door.)

JAWBONES. Shut the door.

GINGER. Oh, shut—

(She finds herself face to face with a MESSENGER carrying a ballot-box.)

I beg yer pardon! (She goes out, closes door.)

LADY MOGTON. (To the MESSENGER.) Is that the last?

MESSENGER. Generally is. Isle of Dogs!

(He goes into the other room.)