And she's going back
to Newcastle this afternoon, to her job at the Wire Works.
AUGUSTA. I must see her before she goes. I feel in a measure
responsible for her. You'll tell her?
TIMOTHY. I'll tell her.
AUGUSTA. How are you getting along, Bert?
BERT. Very well, thank you, Mrs. Pindar.
(The MAID enters, lower right.)
MAID. Miss Thorpe wishes to speak with you, ma'am.
AUGUSTA (gathering up her knitting). It's about the wool for the Red
Cross.
(Exit, lower right.)
GEORGE (shaking hands with BERT). Hello, Bert,--how goes it?
BERT. All right, thank you, lieutenant.
GEORGE. Oh, cut out the title.
(BERT FARRELL is about twenty three. He wears a brown flannel shirt
and a blue four-in-hand tie, and a good ready-made suit. He holds
his hat in front of him. He is a self-respecting, able young Irish
American of the blue-eyed type that have died by thousands on the
battle fields of France, and whose pictures may be seen in our
newspapers.)
ASHER. You're not working today, Bert?
BERT. I've left the shops, Mr. Pindar,--I got through last night.
ASHER. Left the shops! You didn't say anything about this, Timothy!
TIMOTHY. No, sir,--you have trouble enough today.
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