What had I better do? (_Suddenly to
Harry_.) It's you--you yourself that we--that he's waiting for. It's
_you_ who are to come to-morrow.
Harry (_Slowly_). Oh! it's me! (_Perplexed_.) There's something there
I can't understand. I haven't written ahead or anything. It was my chum
who showed me the advertisement with the old boy's address, this very
morning--in London.
Bessie (_Anxious_). How can I make it plain to you without... (_Bites
her lip, embarrassed_.) Sometimes he talks so strangely.
Harry (_Expectant_). Does he? What about?
Bessie. Only you. And he will stand no contradicting.
Harry. Stubborn. Eh? The old man hasn't changed much from what I can
remember. (_They stand looking at each other helplessly_.)
Bessie. He's made up his mind you would come back . . . to-morrow.
Harry. I can't hang about here till morning. Got no money to get a bed.
Not a cent. But why won't to-day do?
Bessie. Because you've been too long away.
Harry (_With force_). Look here, they fairly drove me out. Poor mother
nagged at me for being idle, and the old man said he would cut my soul
out of my body rather than let me go to sea.
Bessie (_Murmurs_). He can bear no contradicting.
Harry (_Continuing_). Well, it looked as tho' he would do it too. So
I went. (_Moody_.) It seems to me sometimes I was born to them by a
mistake.
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