pronounced accent, South
Lancashire if possible. Failing that, anything sufficiently unlike
ordinary English will serve._

_Janet_. He's that anxious to get on, is David.

_Mrs. B._ Ay, he's fair set on being a town councillor one day, like thy
feyther.

_Janet_ (_quietly_). That 'ud be fine.

_Mrs. B._ You'd a rare long meeting at the women's guild to-night.

_Janet_ (_without emotion_). Ay. They've elected me to go to Manchester on
the deputation.

_Mrs. B._ You'll like that.

_Janet_ (_suppressing a secret pride so that it is wholly imperceptible by
the audience_). It'll be well enough. I'm to go first-class. (_A pause._)
Young Mr. Inkslinger is going too.

_Mrs. B._ (_with interest_). Can they spare him from the boot-shop?

_Janet_. He's left them. He's writing a play.

_Mrs. B._ (_concerned_). Dear, dear! And he used to be such a steady young
fellow.

[_All that matters in their conversation is now finished, but as the
play has got to be filled up they continue to talk for some ten minutes
longer. At the end of that time_--

_Janet_ (_glancing at clock again_). It's half-past nine, and neither of
they men back yet.

[_Which means that, while the attention of the audience was diverted,
the stage-manager must have twiddled the clock-hands round from behind.
This is called realism._

_Mrs. B._ Listen! Yer feyther's comin' now.

[_A door in the far distance is heard to bang. At the same instant_
John Bullyum _enters quickly. He is the typical British parent of
repertory; that is to say, he has iron-grey hair, a chin beard, a
lie-down collar, and the rest of his appearance is a cross between a
gamekeeper and an undertaker._

_Bullyum_ (_He is evidently in a state of some excitement; speaks
scornfully_). Well, here's a fine thing happened.

_Mrs. B._ What is it, feyther?

_Bully_, (_showing letter_). That young puppy, Inkslinger, had the
impudence to write me asking for our Janet. But I've told him off to
rights. He's nobbut a boot-builder.

_Janet_ (_in a level voice_). Ye're wrong there, feyther. Bob Inkslinger's
a dramatist now.

_Bully_, (_thunderstruck_). What?

_Janet_ (_as before_). He's had a play taken by the Sad Sundays Society.

_Bully_. Great Powers, a repertory dramatist! And I've insulted him!--me, a
town councillor. (_He has grown white to the lips; this is not easy, but
can be managed._) There'll be a play about me--about us