The Servant in the House - BestLightNovel.com
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Do you know, I'd like to do you some good!
ROBERT. You, miss?
MARY. Yes, wouldn't you like me to?
ROBERT. You're the on'y person in the world I'd--I'd like to see try, miss.
MARY [glad in the consciousness of "being used"]. That's because you know I'm interested in you, that I mean it, that I'm not trying to think only of myself.
ROBERT [a little stupidly]. Aren't you, miss?
MARY. No: we must always remember that there are other people in the world besides ourselves.
[This coincides with his experience: he says so.]
ROBERT. Yus, miss, there are.
MARY. Very well: now I'll see what I can do to help you.
ROBERT. Thank you, miss.
MARY. Now, don't you think, if you were really _to wish_ very hard, it would make things better for you?
ROBERT. I don't know what you mean, miss.
MARY. Well, it's like this: if you only wish very very hard, everything comes true.
ROBERT. Wot _I_ want, ain't no use wis.h.i.+ng for!
MARY. It doesn't matter what it is! Anything you like! It will all happen!
ROBERT. Blimey, wot's the good o' talkin'?
MARY. Oh, wouldn't you like to help to spin the fairy-tale?
ROBERT [roughly], I don't believe in no fairy-tales!
MARY. I do! I don't believe there's anything else in the world, if we only knew! And that's why I'm wis.h.i.+ng! I'm wis.h.i.+ng now!
I'm wis.h.i.+ng hard!
ROBERT [pa.s.sionately]. So am I, Gawd 'elp me! But it's no use!
MARY. It is! It is! What are you wis.h.i.+ng for?
ROBERT. Never you mind! Summat as impossible as--fairy-tales!
MARY. So's mine! That's what it has to be! Mine's the most impossible thing in the world!
ROBERT. Not more than mine!
MARY. What's yours?
ROBERT. What's yours?
MARY. _I want my father_!
ROBERT. I WANT MY LITTLE KID!
[There is a second's pause.]
MARY. Your--what? . . .
ROBERT [brokenly]. My--daughter.
MARY. Oh! . . .
[She goes towards him: they face each other.]
[Softly.] Is she dead?
[He stands looking at her.]
Is she?
[He turns away from her.]
ROBERT. Fur as I am concerned--yus.
MARY. What do you mean? _Isn't_ she dead?
ROBERT. She's alive, right enough.
MARY. Perhaps--perhaps she ran away? . . .
ROBERT. She got took.
MARY. How do you mean--gypsies?
ROBERT. I _give_ 'er up. 'Ad to.
MARY. Why?
ROBERT. Look at me! . . .
_That_--an' the drink, an' the low wages, an' my ole woman dyin'!
That's why I give 'er up.
MARY. Where is she now?
