FIRST GENTLEMAN. Sorry I haven’t got any coppers. Do take an answer. TRAMP. Shall I call a cab, sir? HORACE. Shall I call a cab, sir? FIRST GENTLEMAN. No, no! (_Exit with lady L._) TRAMP. That was a frost. Here’s some more. (_Two gentlemen and a lady come out._) TRAMP. Beg pardon, sir. Look what we’ve done. Ain’t it nice and handy for the lady? (_Less cheerily._) HORACE. (_Rather more forcibly_) See what we’ve done. Ain’t it nice and handy for the lady? SECOND GENTLEMAN. All muffled up or I would— (_Exit with others of the party._) HORACE. I’ve said the same thing myself a dozen times. TRAMP. Ain’t making our fortunes, are we, partner? HORACE. The stingy brutes! Never mind, we’ll try again. (_SIR EDWARD VIVIAN and two ladies come out._) TRAMP. We cleared the snow away for you, sir. Can’t you spare us a trifle, sir? SIR EDWARD. Nonsense! The servants of the house cleared it. TRAMP. No, sir, we done it, sir. Me and my partner. SIR EDWARD. You couple of impostors! Why, where are your shovels? HORACE. (_Firing up_) We cleared it, and if you don’t like it you can bally well walk in the snow! (_Shoulders SIR EDWARD off the path into the snow._) SIR EDWARD. You impudent loafer! Hi, Policeman! (_Enter POLICEMAN L._) This ruffian assaulted me. POLICEMAN. Come out of that, you two! I know you! You’re old hands! Be off, both of you! (_TRAMP drags HORACE away._) POLICEMAN. Cab, sir? (_Very sweetly._) SIR EDWARD. Thank you, Policeman. (_Gives money._) (_Exeunt SIR EDWARD, ladies and POLICEMAN L._) MESSENGER. Fine force, the police! HORACE. I was nearly starting a labor riot. Well, that’s what is at the bottom of most of them. TRAMP. (_Thoroughly broken_) My ideas don’t seem to come to anything any more. I’m a failure, and a bad ’un. I’ve been feeling bad all day, and this has about done for me. (_Falls down._) (_HORACE goes to him and kneels down to him, trying to rouse him up._) HORACE. Don’t talk like that! It is a splendid idea, and there are plenty more to come out. TRAMP. I only wants burying, Partner, and they’ll have to do that. Damn ’em! HORACE. You must pull yourself together. Marsy, won’t you help him? MESSENGER. You can’t make me responsible for that dirty beggar’s condition. HORACE. Ah, don’t mock me! I’m beaten! I give in. MESSENGER. If you had your money again, you’d just go your old way, and leave him to die. HORACE. That’s gone, and I wouldn’t have it back at that price. Only help him now. MESSENGER. Try at the house. HORACE. They know me there. MESSENGER. What of that? HORACE. I wouldn’t like Mrs. Clarence to see me in this condition. MESSENGER. Your friend is dying. (_HORACE pulls himself together and knocks loudly at the door. FOOTMAN opens door._) HORACE. There’s a poor fellow dying of cold and hunger. Ask Mrs. Clarence if she will—— (_MRS. CLARENCE appears behind FOOTMAN._) MRS. CLARENCE. What is it, John? HORACE. There’s a poor fellow outside dying of cold.