y Uncle William and Uncle
Joshua.

[He looks at her curiously.]

ROBERT. Like your . . .

MARY. Yes--they're his brothers, you know.

This is Uncle William's house.

ROBERT. Yes, but what do you know about. . .

MARY. About Uncle Joshua? Well, I happen to know a good deal more
than I can say. It's a secret.

ROBERT. S'pose your _Uncle William_ spoke to you about 'im?

MARY. Well, yes. Uncle William spoke about him, too.

ROBERT. But never about your father?

MARY. Oh no, never.

ROBERT. Why, miss?

MARY [slowly]. I--don't--know.

ROBERT. P'r'aps 'e ain't--good enough--to be--to be the brother of
your Uncle William--and-- Uncle--Joshua--eh, miss?

MARY. Oh, I can't think that!

ROBERT. Why not, miss? Three good brothers in a family don't
scarcely seem possible--not as families go--do they, miss?

MARY. You mustn't talk like that! A father must be much--much
better than anybody else!

ROBERT. But s'pose, miss--s'pose 'e ain't . . .

MARY. He is! I know it! Why, that's what I'm wishing! . . .

ROBERT. P'r'aps it ain't altogether 'is fault, miss! . . .

MARY. Oh, don't! Don't. . .

ROBERT. Things may 'a' bin agin 'im, miss! . . .

MARY. Oh, you make me so unhappy! . . .

ROBERT. P'r'aps 'e's 'ad a 'ard life--a bitter 'ard life--same as
I 'av', miss . . . [He breaks down.]

MARY. Ssh! Please! Please! . . .

I can quite understand: indeed, indeed, I can! I'm sorry--oh, so
sorry for you. You are thinking of yourself and of your own little
girl--the little girl who doesn't know what you have been telling
me. Don't be miserable! I'm sure it will all turn out right in
the end--things always do; far better than you dream! Only . . .
don't take away _my_ little dream!

[She turns away her face. ROBERT rises heavily.]

ROBERT. All right, miss--I won't: swelp me Gawd, I won't. Don't
cry, miss. Don't, miss! Breaks my 'eart--after all you've done
for me. I ort never to 'a' bin born--mekin' you cry! Thank you
kindly, miss: thank you very kindly. I'll--I'll tek my 'ook.

MARY. Oh, but I'm so sorry for _you_!

ROBERT. Thank you, miss.

MARY. I did so want to help you.

ROBERT. You 'av', miss.

MARY. Before you go, won't you tell me your name? Who are you?

ROBERT. I . . .

I got no name worth speakin' of, miss: I'm--just the bloke wot's
a-lookin' arter the drains.

Good-bye, miss.

[At the door, he turns.]

Sorry I used bad words, miss