Asher. For God’s sake, George, don’t speak of it again,—don’t think of it! There’s no sacrifice I wouldn’t make for you, in reason, but you’re asking me to go against my life-long convictions. As your father, I forbid you to entertain such ideas—(he breaks off, choking). Don’t speak of them, don’t think of them!
(Timothy Farrell Steps
inside the doorway, upper right, followed by
Bert, and after a few moments
by Dr. Jonathan.)
Timothy. Excuse me sir, but you asked me to be letting you know if I heard anything. There’s a meeting called for tonight, and they’ll strike on Monday morning. It’s certain I am, from the way the men are talking, —unless ye’d agree to meet the committee this afternoon and come to an understanding like.
Asher. Let them strike. If they burned down the shops this afternoon, I wouldn’t stop them! (He waves Timothy Off.) My boy is leaving for France, and I’m going to New York with him.
Timothy (with a sudden flaring up of sympathy). It’s meself has a boy going, too, Mr. Pindar. And maybe it’s almost the last I’ll be seeing of him, this noon hour. Just a word with ye, before it’s too late, sir.
Asher (suppressing him). No, let them strike!
(He turns to hide his emotion and
then rushes out of the door, lower
right. George and Bert
come forward and stand with Timothy, silent
after ASHER’s dramatic exit;
when Timothy perceives Dr. Jonathan.)
Timothy. Did you see my Minnie, doctor? She went to your house.
Dr. Jonathan. I met her on the street just now, and left her with Mrs. Prag.
George. Prag’s wife! You’ve been to see her?
Dr. Jonathan. Yes. Her condition
is serious. She needs a nurse, and
Minnie volunteered.
Timothy. My Minnie, is it? Then she won’t be going back to Newcastle.
Dr. Jonathan (looking at George). She won’t be going back to Newcastle.
Timothy. That’s Minnie! (he turns to George). Well, goodbye, Mr. George,—I’ll say God bless you again. (He looks at Bert.) You’ll be fighting over there, the pair of you, for freedom. Have an eye on him, Sir, if you can,—give him some good advice.
George (his hand on Bert’s shoulder). Bert can take care of himself, I guess. I’ll be needing the advice!
(He shakes hands with Timothy.)
Curtain.