BURGESS. Of course I did. I hown it now. Come: I harsk your pardon for the letter I wrote you. Is that enough? MORELL (snapping his fingers). That's nothing. Have you raised the wages? BURGESS (triumphantly). Yes. MORELL (stopping dead). What! BURGESS (unctuously). I've turned a moddle hemployer. I don't hemploy no women now: they're all sacked; and the work is done by machinery. Not a man 'as less than sixpence a hour; and the skilled 'ands gits the Trade Union rate. (Proudly.) What 'ave you to say to me now? MORELL (overwhelmed). Is it possible! Well, there's more joy in heaven over one sinner that repenteth-- (Going to Burgess with an explosion of apologetic cordiality.) My dear Burgess, I most heartily beg your pardon for my hard thoughts of you. (Grasps his hand.) And now, don't you feel the better for the change? Come, confess, you're happier. You look happier. BURGESS (ruefully). Well, p'raps I do. I s'pose I must, since you notice it. At all events, I git my contrax asseppit (accepted) by the County Council. (Savagely.) They dussent'ave nothink to do with me unless I paid fair wages--curse 'em for a parcel o' meddlin' fools! MORELL (dropping his hand, utterly discouraged). So that was why you raised the wages! (He sits down moodily.) BURGESS (severely, in spreading, mounting tones). Why else should I do it? What does it lead to but drink and huppishness in workin' men? (He seats himself magisterially in the easy chair.) It's hall very well for you, James: it gits you hinto the papers and makes a great man of you; but you never think of the 'arm you do, puttin' money into the pockets of workin' men that they don't know 'ow to spend, and takin' it from people that might be makin' a good huse on it. MORELL (with a heavy sigh, speaking with cold politeness). What is your business with me this morning? I shall not pretend to believe that you are here merely out of family sentiment. BURGESS (obstinately). Yes, I ham--just family sentiment and nothink else. MORELL (with weary calm). I don't believe you! BURGESS (rising threateningly). Don't say that to me again, James Mavor Morell. MORELL (unmoved). I'll say it just as often as may be necessary to convince you that it's true. I don't believe you. BURGESS (collapsing into an abyss of wounded feeling). Oh, well, if you're determined to be unfriendly, I s'pose I'd better go. (He moves reluctantly towards the door. Morell makes no sign. He lingers.) I didn't hexpect to find a hunforgivin' spirit in you, James. (Morell still not responding, he takes a few more reluctant steps doorwards. Then he comes back whining.) We huseter git on well enough, spite of our different opinions. Why are you so changed to me? I give you my word I come here in pyorr (pure) frenliness, not wishin' to be on bad terms with my hown daughrter's 'usban'. Come, James: be a Cherishin and shake 'ands. (He puts his hand sentimentally on Morell's shoulder.)