Part 34

JAWBONES. There’s one at 118, High Street. Shall I go, miss?

PHOEBE. No, thanks. I’ll go myself. Oh, what about the band?

JANET. Lady Mogton says she’d like it. If it isn’t too tired.

GINGER. It’s at Sell’s Coffee-’ouse in Piggott Street. I ’eard them practising.

PHOEBE. Good. I shan’t be more than a few minutes.

ST. HERBERT. I’ll come with you, if I may? I’ve got some news that may be of use to you.

PHOEBE. Do. (To GINGER.) Stop here, I may want you.

(PHOEBE and ST. HERBERT go out.)

JANET. How was Mrs. Chilvers seeming this afternoon?

GINGER. Never ’eard ’er speak better, miss.

JANET. Did you stop to the end?

GINGER. Not quite. Mrs. Spender wanted some shopping done.

(JANET goes out.)

GINGER. Can I ’elp yer?

JAWBONES. Yer might hold the piper while I blow.

(The fire begins to burn.)

GINGER. It’s getting brighter.

JAWBONES. That’s caught it.

GINGER. Wonderful what a little coaxing will do.

JAWBONES. (He is still squatting on his heels, folding up the paper. He looks up.) Ain’t yer ever thought of that, instead of worrying about the vote?

GINGER. (She moves away.) You don’t understand us wimmin.

JAWBONES. (He has risen. He pauses in his folding of the paper.) Don’t say that.

GINGER. Why should we coax yer—for our rights?

JAWBONES. Because it’s the easiest way of getting ’em.

GINGER. (She has become oratorical.) Our appeal is not to man (with upraised hand) but to Justice!

JAWBONES. Oh! And what does the lidy say?

GINGER. (Descending.) ’Ow do yer mean?

JAWBONES. To your appeal. Is she goin’ to give ’em to yer? You tike my tip: if yer in a ’urry, you get a bit on account—from Man. ’Ere. (He dives into his pocket, produces, wrapped up in tissue paper, a ring, which he exhibits to her.) That’s a bit more in your line.