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Conrad, Joseph, 1857-1924

"One Day More A Play In One Act"

He ain't likely to
fly out at me, is he? I would be afraid of laying my hands on him. The
chaps are always telling me I don't know my own strength.
Bessie (_In front_). He's the most harmless creature that ever. ..
Harry. You wouldn't say so if you had seen him walloping me with a hard
leather strap. (_Walking up garden_.) I haven't forgotten it in sixteen
long years. (_Rat-tat-tat twice_.) Hullo, Dad. (_Bessie intensely
expectant. Rat-tat-tat_.) Hullo, Dad--let me in. I am your own Harry.
Straight. Your son Harry come back home--a day too soon.
(_Window above rumbles up_.)
Capt. H. (_Seen leaning out, aiming with spade_). Aha! Bessie
(_Warningly_). Look out, Harry! (_Spade falls_.) Are you hurt? (_Window
rumbles down_.) Harry (_In the distance_). Only grazed my hat.
Bessie. Thank God! (_Intensely_.) What'll he do now?
Harry (_Comes forward, slamming gate behind him_). Just like old times.
Nearly licked the life out of me for wanting to go away, and now I come
back he shies a confounded old shovel at my head. (_Fumes. Laughs a
little_). I wouldn't care, only poor little Ginger--Ginger's my chum
up in London--he will starve while I walk back all the way from here.
(_Faces Bessie blankly_.) I spent my last twopence on a shave. ... Out
of respect for the old man.
Bessie. I think, if you let me, I could manage to talk him round in a
week, maybe.


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