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PD (1) Written 1950

A path through a wood. A fine summer afternoon.A lady, good-looking, well dressed, and not over thirty, is being conducted along the path by a burly and rather dangerous-looking man, middle aged, ugly, dressed in a braided coat and mutton pie cap which give him the air of being a hotel-porter or commissionaire of some sort.

THE LADY [stopping] Where are we now? I should hardly call this a short cut.

THE MAN [truculently] I'm damned if I know. Two miles from anywhere.

THE LADY. But you must know. You are a forest guide.

THE MAN. Guide my foot! I'm no bloody guide. How much money have you got on you?

THE LADY. Why?

THE MAN. Because I mean to have it off you, see? Hand over.

THE LADY. Do you mean to rob me? You said you were a guide, and we agreed for seven-and-sixpence. I meant to give you ten shillings if you were civil; but now I will give you your seven-and-sixpence and not a penny more. If you dare try to rob me I'll call the police.

THE MAN. Call away. There isnt a copper within five miles. Are them pearls round your neck real? Whether or no I mean to have them. You have three pounds in notes in your handbag: I saw them when you paid the taxi. Are you going to hand over quietly or shall I have to take them? It'll hurt a bit.

A YOUNG MALE VOICE [very affable] Is there anything amiss? Can I help?

The Man and the Lady start violently, not having noticed the newcomer until he arrives between them. He is a likeable looking juvenile in a workman’s cap, but otherwise might by his clothes be an artisan off duty or a gentleman. His accent is that of a well bred man.

THE MAN [ferociously] Who the hell are you?

THE NEWCOMER. Nobody but a tramp looking for a job.

THE MAN. Well, dont you come interfering with me. Get out of here, double quick.

THE NEWCOMER [sunnily] I'm in no hurry. The lady might like me to stay. If she wants a witness I'm on the job.

THE LADY. Oh yes: please stay. This man is trying to rob me.

THE NEWCOMER. Oh dear! That wont do, you know, matey. Thou shalt not steal.

THE MAN [with exaggerated fierceness] Who are you calling matey? Listen here. Are you going to get out or have I to sling you out?

THE NEWCOMER [gaily] You can try. I'm game for a scrap. Fists, catch as catch can, up and down wrestling, or all three together? Be quick. The mounted police patrol will pass at six. Take off your coat; and come on.

THE MAN [he is an abject coward] Easy, governor, easy. I dont want no fighting. All I asked of the lady was my money for guiding her.

THE NEWCOMER [to the Lady] Give it to him and get rid of him.

THE LADY. I never refused to give it to him. Here it is. [She gives the Man five shillings].

THE MAN [humbly] Thank you, lady. [He hurries away, almost running].

THE LADY. How brave of you to offer to fight that big man!

THE NEWCOMER. Bluff, dear lady, pure bluff. A bully is not always a coward; but a big coward is almost always a bully. I took his measure; that is all. Where do you want to go to?

THE LADY. To Timbertown. I live there. I am Miss White of Four Towers: a very famous old house. I can reward you handsomely for rescuing me when I get home.

THE NEWCOMER. I know the way. A mile and a half. Can you walk it?

THE LADY. Yes of course. I can walk ten miles.

THE NEWCOMER. Right O! Follow me.

They go off together.

At the gates of a pretentious country house surrounded by a high stone wall and overshadowed by heavy elm trees. The wall is broken by four sham towers with battlemented tops. The Newcomer and the Lady arrive. She opens her bag and takes out a key to unlock the wicket.

THE LADY. Here we are. This is my house.

THE NEWCOMER. [looking at it] Oh. Is it?

He is not as much impressed as she expected. She fingers the cash pocket in her bag, and is obviously embarrassed.

THE NEWCOMER. You are safe at home now. I must hurry into the town to get a night's lodging. Goodnight, lady. [He turns to go].

THE LADY. O please wait a moment. I hardly know—

THE NEWCOMER. How much to tip me, eh?

THE LADY. Well, I must reward you. You have done me a great service. I promised—

THE NEWCOMER. You did. But rescuing ladies from robbers is not my profession: it is only my amusement as an amateur. But you can do something for me. You said your name was White. Your people are the greatest timber merchants and woodmen in the county. Well, I'm a carpenter of sorts. Could you get me a job in the timber yard at three pound ten a week? I cant live on less.

THE LADY. Oh, I'm sure I can. My grandfather is chairman of the Board. My brother is manager. What is your name? Where do you live?

THE NEWCOMER. My name is Henry Bossborn. I live nowhere, or where I can: I have no address. I'll call on Thursday at your kitchen door: you can leave word with your maid if there is any news for me. Good night.

THE I.ADY [very graciously] Au revoir.

BOSSBORN. Not necessarily. Adieu: remember me.

He goes decisively. She unlocks the wicket and, goes home.

The boardroom of White Sons and Bros. Ltd. In the chair old Reginald White, still keen and attentive, but mostly silent. Jasper White, domineering but not quite up to his father's mark, Montgomery Smith, counting-house chief, and two clerks who make notes but say nothing, and three or four members of the Board, silent lookers-on. Bossborn, looking quite smart in a clean white collar and well brushed suit, is before them, bareheaded.

OLD REGINALD. Well, Bossborn, you have done a plucky service to my granddaughter, Miss Serafina White, who holds many shares in this concern.

BOSSBORN. Oh, nothing, sir. I could have killed the fellow.

OLD REGINALD. The lady says he was twice your size and weight. We must find you a job. You want one, dont you?

BOSSBORN. I want three pound ten a week, sir. I must live.

OLD REGINALD. You are a white collar case, I suppose. We shall have to make room for you in the counting house.

BOSSBORN. No, sir, manual worker, carpenter on the wages list. Three pound ten and the usual bonus, same as the rest in the carpenters' shop.

OLD REGINALD. Oh well, if you prefer it: that will be easy. [To Jasper] Tell him his duties.

JASPER [much more distant and peremptory] Youll be here at six on Monday morning, and clock in sharp to the minute. We dont allow unpunctuality here. The foreman will direct you to a place on the bench, where you will be expected to work—to work, mind you, not to dawdle— until eleven, when you can knock off for five minutes tor a cup of tea. Half an hour off for a meal at one. Work again at the bench until four. Overtime wages one and a half, Five day week: nothing on Saturdays. A week's notice if you are a slacker. That’s all. You can go.

BOSSBORN. I'm very grateful to you gentlemen tor offering me this job. But I'm afraid it will not suit me. I must take to the road again.

JASPER. Why? It is what you ask for.

BOSSBORN. I'm not that sort of man. I can’t clock in, and work at regular hours at the bench. I can’t do what you call work at all. It is not in my nature. I must come when I like and go when I like and stay away when I like. I get up at eight, breakfast at nine, and read the papers until ten. I've never in my life got up at five in the morning.

JASPER. In short, you are an unemployable walking gentleman. You expect to be paid three pound ten a week for doing nothing.

BOSSBORN. Three pound ten and the bonus. Not exactly for doing nothing. I ask to have the run of the works and just loaf round to see if there is anything I can do.

SMITH. Well, of all the—! Just to snoop round and find out all our trade secrets and sell them to the next timber yard.

OLD REGINALD. We have no secrets here. All the world is welcome to learn the ways of White Ltd. Straightforward work and first quality. Let those who can copy us and welcome.

SMITH. Yes, sir, we know that. But this young fellow can make a living by going from one firm to another, taking a job and being sacked as a slacker at a fortnight's notice; then going on to the next shop and doing it again.

BOSSBORN. ! can meet you on that. Take me on for a fortnight on my own terms, If at the end of the fornight you find me worth keeping for another week you pay me for the whole three weeks; but if you find me no use I get no wages at all, nothing but the sack.

OLD REGINALD. How is that, Mr Smith?

SMITH. Well, sir, if you want a sleeping partner this is the man for you. That is all I can say.

OLD REGINALD [rising] We'll try him. Come with me Bossborn: my granddaughter is waiting in my private room to near how you have got on.

Bossborn. Good morning gentlemen.[He follows old Reginald out.]

SMITH. The old man is going dotty. You really ought To take over, Mr. Jasper.

JASPER. Let him have his way. We shall soon be rid of this rotter.

The drawing room of Four Towers, overcrowded with massive early Victorian furniture, thick curtains, small but heavy tables crowded with nicnacs, sea shells, stuffed birds in glass cases, carpets and wallpaper with huge flower designs, movement obstructed and light excluded in every possible way.

Two years have elapsed since the incident in the wood,

Bossborn, now a very smart city man, matured and important looking, is being entertained by Serafina.

BOSSBORN. Twice round the world!

SERAFINA. Yes, twice. And a winter in Durban.

BOSSBORN. Why twice?

SERAFINA. Once for sightseeing. But life in a pleasure ship is so easy and comfortable and careless and social that at the end of the trip you just stick to the ship and start again for another round-the-world cruise, mostly with the same people. Quite a lot of them spend their lives going round and round. It costs only about a thousand a year; and everything is done for you.

BOSSBORN. Then why did you come back here?

SERAFINA. Homesick. For me there is no place like Four Towers. Besides, I had to come back after father's death to settle about his will and all that. I shall never leave dear Four Towers again. I was born here; and I shall die here.

BOSSBORN. Hmmm! There are better places.

SERAFINA. Not for me. Nowhere on earth. But never mind that now. What about yourself? I hear you have made terrible changes in the company, and that you and Jasper are on very bad terms. You have pensioned off poor old Smith and dismissed four clerks who had been with us for sixteen years and never had a word against them.

BOSSBORN. Their work is done by a girl with a calculating and invoicing typewriter as big as herself. Smith was twenty-five years out of date. The waste of labor all over the place was frightful.

SERAFINA. Before I went away Jasper said that either you or he would have to go when father retired. We Whites like to be masters in our own house. I like to be mistress in mine.

BOSSBORN. Oh, that is all over. Ive trained Jasper in my methods, and am now in business on my own.

SERAFINA. Have you set up in opposition to us?

BOSSBORN. Not at all. I'm still a director and shareholder. My own business is land agency, dealer in real estate, private banking, building, and so on. Anything there is money in and that I understand.

SERAFINA. How wonderful! And only two years ago you were a tramp looking for a job.

BOSSBORN. And you got one for me. What can I do for you in return?

SERAFINA. Well, there is something you could perhaps advise me on. My old nurse and housekeeper thinks there is something wrong with the drainage here; and the gardener thinks that two of the four towers are not quite safe Would you greatly mind if I asked you to have a look around and tell me if there is really anything wrong and if so what I ought to do about it?

BOSSBORN. I need not look round. I have had my eye On Four Towers for some time and I know it inside and out. There is no drainage.

SERAFINA. No drainage! But there must be.

BOSSBORN. Absolutely none. The sewage has been Simply soaking into the soil for heaven knows how many years. None of the towers are worth repairing The one thing to be done is to blow them up, get rid of that prison wall, cut down those trees that shut out the sunlight and knock down this ugly, unhealthy, troublesome, costly house. It is not fit to live in. I'll build you a modern house with beautiful view in a better situation. This neighborhood was fashionable fifty years ago: it is now east end. I’ll build six prefabricated villas lettable at moderate rent To replace your four rotten old towers and bring you in a tidy addition to your income.

SERAFINA. [rising in boiling wrath] Mr Bossborn, leave my house.

BOSSBORN. Oh! [rising] Why?

SERAFINA. I can hardly speak. My house! My house, The great house of Timbertown. My beautiful house, built by my people and never lived in by anyone else. I was born here. And you dare—! Go, or I will call my servants to shew you out. And never approach my door again: it will be shut in your face.

Serafina rings the bell and strides about the room, raging, then rings again violently three times. Her old nurse-housekeeper rushes in, alarmed.

NURSE. What's the matter, dearie?

SERAFINA. If that man calls here again, shut the door in his face. Slam it. Set the dog on him if he wont go. Tell the maids.

NURSE. Oh, we couldnt do that. Hes such a gentleman. We'll say you are not at home.

SERAFINA. Youll obey my orders. Gentleman! Do you know what he has done?

NURSE. No, dearie. It must be something dreadful to put you into a state like this. What was it?

SERAFINA. He said that my house—Four Towers!— is ugly, unhealthy, troublesome, not fit to live in. My house! The house I was born in.

NURSE [unimpressed]. Well, you know, dearie, it is troublesome. We cant do without seven housemaids, and they are always complaining and wont stay long. There are always one or two of them sick. Theres no life in the house with all those stairs to drag scuttles of coal up and down because there is no proper heating, only the old open grates. And the place is so dark with all those trees, and nothing to look at but a stone wall. In the kitchen they are always wondering why you live here instead of moving into a nice new house with every convenience.

SERAFINA [astounded] So you—you!—agree with him!

NURSE. Oh no, dearie, I could never agree with anyone against you. I know you think the world of the old house. But you can hardly blame the gentleman for saying what everybody says. He is such a nice gentleman. Think it over, dearie.

The lounge in an ultra modern country house dated 1950, contrasting strangely with Four Towers. As before, Serafina hostess and Bossborn visitor.

BOSSBORN. Well, what is the matter today? Why have you sent for me?

SERAFINA. I want to have it out with you about my Thursday at-homes. You have stopped coming to them. Why?

BOSSBORN. Have I? Well, you see, I am full up of business all day. I have my own business to attend to all the forenoon, and in the afternoon there are Board meetings of directors and the County Council, and appointments of all sorts. Much as I like to turn up at your at-homes for the pleasure of seeing you I simply cannot find time for society and small talk. I am, unfortunately, a very busy man.

SERAFINA. How charmingly you pay out that budget of lies! A busy man can always find time to do anything he really wants to do, and excuses for everything he doesnt.

BOSSBORN. That is true. Ive not thought about it. To be quite frank, I dislike the society of ladies and gentlemen. They bore me. I am not at home among them. You know I am only an upstart tramp.

SERAFINA. Very clever. But a much bigger lie. I dont know where you got your courtly manners and the way you speak and carry your London clothes; but I know you are a cut above me socially, and look down on us poor provincials and tradespeople.

BOSSBORN. Well, suppose it is so. Let us assume that I was brought up as a court page, and was so bored by it that I broke loose from it, threw myself on the streets penniless just as Kropotkin when he grew out of being Tsar Alexander's page, chose an infantry regiment in Siberia instead of the Imperial Guards at the top of the tree in Petersburg. Such things happen. You may pretend that it happened to me. But if so does not this prove that I am not a snob?

SERAFINA. At last you may be telling the truth. But if you are not a snob why have you stopped coming to my at-homes? Answer me that.

BOSSBORN. Whats the use of answering if you will not believe a word I say? You seem to know the truth, what- ever it may be. It is for you to tell it to me.

SERAFINA. The reason you have stopped coming is that you think I want to marry you.

BOSSBORN. Oh, nonsense!

SERAFINA. It is not nonsense. Do stop lying. It would be a social promotion for me. My old nurse, with her talk about your being a very nice gentleman, selected you for my husband from the time she first saw you. Everybody thinks I ought to get married before I am too old. If you came always to my at-homes they would think you are the man. That is what you are afraid of. You need not be afraid. I have sent for you to tell you that nothing on earth could induce me to marry you. So there. You can come as often as you like. I have no designs on you.

BOSSBORN. But have I offended you in any way? Are my manners inconsiderate?

SERAFINA. No. Your manners are perfect.

BOSSBORN. You just dont like me. Simply natural antipathy, eh?

SERAFINA. Not in the least. I like you and admire you more than any man I have ever known. You are a wonder.

BOSSBORN. Then why?

SERAFINA. I am afraid of you.

BOSSBORN. Afraid of Me!!! Impossible. How? Why? Are you serious?

SERAFINA. Yes: afraid of you. Everybody is afraid of you.

BOSSBORN. Is there any use in saying that you have no reason to be afraid of me?

SERAFINA. Yes I have. I like to be mistress in my own house, as I was in Four Towers.

BOSSBORN. But you would be mistress in my house if we married.

SERAFINA. No one will ever be mistress in any house that you are in. Only your slaves and your bedfellow.

BOSSBORN. This bewilders me. Have I ever forced you to do anything you did not want to do?

SERAFINA. No; for I always had to do what you wanted me to do. I was happy at Four Towers: I loved it: I was born there and mistress of it and of myself: it was sacred to me. I turned you out of it for daring to say a word against it. Where is it now? And where am I? Just where you put me: I might as well have been a piece of furniture. Here in this house of your choosing and your building I have heard my four towers being blown up, bang, bang, bang, bang, striking on my heart like an earthquake; and I never lifted my finger to stop you as I could have done if I had been my own mistress. At the works, where my grandfather always had the last word until he died, you came; and with Jasper and Smith and all the rest against you, you turned the whole place inside out: poor old Smith and his clerks had to retire; Jasper had to knuckle under; our splendid old craftsmen had to learn new machines or be sacked and replaced by American mechanics.

BOSSBORN. Yes yes yes; but they consented: they were willing. I doubled, trebled, quadrupled the product and the profit. You could not live in Four Towers now because you are so enormously more comfortable and civilized here. You can all do far more as you like with the leisure my reforms give you than you could before I came. Leisure is the only reality of freedom. I coerce nobody: I only point out the way.

SERAFINA. Yes: your way, not our way.

BOSSBORN. Neither my way nor yours. The way of the world. Some people call it God's way.

SERAFINA. Anyhow I will live my own life, not yours. If I marry, my choice will not be a Bossborn.

BOSSBORN. Is that final?

SERAFINA. Yes. Friendship only.

BOSSBORN. So be it. Good day to you. [He rises and goes out promptly, as before.]