The Drone Part 3

BROWN. And Mr. John Murray is a widow man.

KATE. You mean to be telling me that Mr. John has a notion of that old thing? Go long with you!

BROWN. Did you ever hear tell of a widow man that never got married again.

KATE. Plenty. Don't come in here talking blethers.

BROWN. Whist. There's more in what I'm telling you than you think. And I'll hold you to a s.h.i.+lling that Sarah McMinn will be Mrs. John Murray before one month.

KATE. Who told you?

BROWN. Ach. You've no more head than a yellow yorling. Where has Mr.

John been going to these wheen of nights?

KATE (_thinking_). Andy McMinns!

BROWN. Aye. Do you think it is to see old Andy? And sure he's been talking to me all morning about the way the house is being kept. No hand to save the waste; bread and things destroyed; hens laying away; eggs ate up by the dozen and chickens lost and one thing and another.

And hinting about what money a good saving woman would bring him. And Mr. Daniel----

KATE. Sh----he's in there working.

BROWN. Working? Ah, G.o.d save us! Him working! The last man that seen Mr. Dan working is in his grave this twenty years. (_He goes over next workshop door._) I'll just peep in at him through the keyhole. (_He goes over and does so, and then beckons_ KATE _over. She peeps in and grins. As they are thus occupied_ ALICK MCCREADY _opens the door and stands gazing at them. He is a type of the young well-to-do farmer, respectably dressed and good-looking._)

ALICK. Well! Well! Some people earn their money easy!

BROWN. Aye. In soul. Just look in there to see it. (MCCREADY _looks in and bursts into a loud hearty laugh._ BROWN _hurriedly goes out by the yard door and_ KATE _by door to inner rooms._)

DANIEL (_opening door and standing there, perplexed looking_). What's the matter?

ALICK. Ah. I was just laughing at a wee joke, Mr. Murray.

DANIEL. It must have been very funny.

ALICK. Aye. It was. (_Coming close to_ DANIEL, _who walks slowly to the middle of the kitchen._) I say. Were you at McArn's publichouse last night?

DANIEL (_looking round cautiously to see that no one else can hear him_). Well, just a minute or two. Why?

ALICK. There was someone there told Andy McMinn this morning, I believe, that you'd been talking of a great invention altogether, and he was that much curious to see it that him and his sister Sarah are coming over this day to have a look at it.

DANIEL. Who? Sarah McMinn?

ALICK. Aye. She's very anxious to see it, I believe.

DANIEL. Um. Rather awkward this. She's not a woman that, plainly speaking, I care very much to talk about my ideas to.

ALICK. But have you got something struck out?

DANIEL. McCready, come here. (ALICK _goes closer to him._) It is really a great idea. Splendid. But I've a great deal of trouble over it. In fact I've been thinking out details of a particular gear all morning.

ALICK. Aye. (_He looks at_ DANIEL _and then endeavours to restrain unsuccessfully a burst of laughter._)

DANIEL (_angrily_). You were always an ignorant hound anyway and be d----d to you. (_He turns to go towards his workshop._)

ALICK. Ah, Mr. Murray, I beg your pardon. It's another thing altogether I'm thinking about. I just wanted a talk with you this morning. You have a nice wee girl for a niece, Mr. Murray.

DANIEL (_somewhat mollified_). Well?

ALICK (_bashfully_). And I was wondering if you could put in a good word for me now and again with her.

DANIEL. Now, look here, Alick. We can all work nice and comfortably together, can't we?

ALICK. Aye.

DANIEL. Well, if you behave yourself like a man with some manners, and not like an ignorant clodhopper, I can do a great deal for you.

ALICK. Thank you, sir. You know, Mr. Murray, I have as nice a wee farm, and as good stock on it as well, as any man in the county, and if I'm lucky enough to get that niece of yours, you'll always be welcome to come and pa.s.s a day or two and have a chat.

DANIEL. I think you and I will get along all right, Alick. There's one or two little things I need badly sometimes in this house. I mean I want help often, you know, Alick, to carry my points with John; points about going to see people and that sort of thing, and it's really very hard to manage John on points like that, unless we resort to certain means to convince him they are absolutely necessary.

ALICK (_uneasily_). Yes. I sort of follow you.

DANIEL. You know what I mean. John's a little dense, you know. He can't see the point of an argument very well unless you sort of knock him down with it. Now, if a thing is fair and reasonable, and a man is so dense that he can't see it, you are quite justified--at least, I take it so--to manufacture a way--it doesn't matter how--so long as you make that dense man accept the thing, whatever it is, as right. Do you follow me?

ALICK. I'm just beginning to see a kind of way.

MARY (_appearing at door from inner rooms_). I can't see that thing anywhere. (_She suddenly sees_ ALICK.) Oh Alick! You here!

ALICK. Yes. It's a nice morning, and you're looking beautiful!

MARY. Oh, bother. (_She seems to suddenly recollect something._) Oh, I say! uncle! You remember? Uncle!

DANIEL (_somewhat perplexed_). Eh?

MARY (_motioning towards_ ALICK). Telegram to come to London.

DANIEL. Ah----Oh, yes, yes.

MARY. Let's go into your workshop and tell Alick what we want. Come on.

ALICK. I'll do anything in the world you want.

(_They all go into the workshop. As they disappear,_ JOHN MURRAY, _sweating and angry looking, comes through from the yard followed by_ BROWN. JOHN _is a tall, stout man, with a rather dour countenance and somewhat stolid expression. He is a year or so the elder of Dan in age. He goes to the dresser, puts his hand on the top shelf, takes down a spanner and throws it down angrily on the table._)

JOHN. There. There you are, you stupid-looking, good for nothing, dunder-headed, Italian idiot you.

BROWN. You're something terrible cross this morning.

JOHN. (_heatedly_). Is it any wonder? Away out at once now and put her to rights and quick about it. (BROWN _meekly goes out._) The like of servant men nowadays, I never seen in my mortal days. A concern of ignorant bauchles, every one of them.