The Little Review, November 1914 (Vol. 1, No. 8)Various
General
The Little Review, November 1914 (Vol. 1, No. 8)
Various
Literature, Modern -- 20th century -- Periodicals
JANET. Well, Bob said the rich people do it. He said they must know how
to do it, because they never have more’n two or three children in a
family; but you’ve only got to walk on the next block—where it’s all
tenements—to see ten and twelve in every family, because the workin’
people don’t know any better. But I don’t want no pity from anybody. I
can take a chance on it. I got a pair of hands, an’ I c’n take care of
myself.
TANNER. Mrs. Ransome, it’s no good my talking to your daughter while
she’s in this frame of mind. She appears to have most extraordinary
views. Mind you, I don’t blame you for it. She _seems_ to be an
intelligent girl. There’d be some hope for her if she’d show a little
penitence—a little regret for what’s been done and can’t be undone. You
know I don’t like preaching out of church, but you’ve often heard me say
in the pulpit that God is always willing to forgive the humble and the
penitent.
JANET (_With fine scorn_). “God” indeed. Don’t make me laugh. (_Points
to body of Bob._) Look at him lyin’ there. God? What’s God got to do
with it? (_She kneels again at the side of the couch, rigid and silent.
After an uncomfortable interval, Tanner rises._)
TANNER. Well, I’m afraid I must be going. I feel very pained by what
your daughter has said, Mrs. Ransome. You know I have a deep regard for
you and your husband. I’m frank to say that if your daughter had shown
some signs of penitence—some remorse for what has happened—I might even
have gone so far as to have made the entry in the register—seeing the
punishment she’s already had. But as she is now, I don’t see what good
it would do. Really I don’t, so I think I’d better go.
MRS. RANSOME (_Appealingly_). Oh, don’t go, Mr. Tanner. Wait just a
minute while I talk to her, please. Janet, can’t you say you’re sorry
for what you done? Can’t you see that Mr. Tanner only wants to be fair
with you? Come, do it for our sakes—your father and me. You know how
hard he’s worked, how he’s keep teetotal an’ everything. You don’t want
to ruin us, do you? Can’t you see it isn’t only yourself that’s got to
be considered? Think of what we’ve done for you. Tell him you’re sorry
for it, _do_!
TANNER (_Rising_). It’s no use, Mrs. Ransome. I can see it’s of no use.
I really must go.
MRS. RANSOME. Just one minute more. Please wait one minute more. Janet,
what’s the matter with you? Can’t you see the disgrace it’ll be to all
of us? Can’t you see it will ruin us to our dying days? They’ll all
laugh at us—an’ jeer at us. It’ll follow us around wherever we go. You
know how the folk round here make fun of your father—because he keeps
himself respectable—an’ saves his money. Do you want them to laugh at
him? Do you want them to be laughin’ at you an’ talkin’ about you? Do
you want them to be making fun of your baby—an’ calling it a bastard—an’
asking who it’s father was?
JANET (_Nervously_). They wouldn’t.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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