THE SCARING OFF OF TEDDY DAWSON A Comedy In One Act By Harold Brighouse London: Samuel French, Ltd 1911 [Illustration: 0007] THE SCARING OFF OF TEDDY DAWSON _Living room of a small house in an East End sidestreet. Door direct to street back centre. Next it, window. Door to house l. Kitchen range R. Dresser with crockery l. Centre is a table. Four deal chairs. At the table Polly Bettesworth is ironing as the curtain rises. She is no more than fifty, but a hard life has aged her in appearance beyond her years. A cheap serge skirt and a dark printed blouse, with elastic-sided boots, form her visible attire. Her husband (Andrew) throws open the door c. and enters rapidly from street. He is a navvy, dressed in corduroy, with a leather belt, and is in his shirt sleeves, having been to the nearest public for the supper beer, which is in a large jug in his hand He is a large man, and Polly seems small by con-start. It is evening, but still light._ ***** Andrew (_angrily_). Where's our Liza? Polly. What do yer want 'er for? Andrew (_closing door_). I'm goin' to tan 'er 'ide for 'er. Polly. What's to do? (_Calmly continuing ironing_) Andrew (_crossing to door l._). I'll put beer in back to keep cool an' then I'll tell yer. (_Opens left door, leaves jug inside and closes door again._) Now, do yer know wot I've bin 'earing in the _Bluebell_ abart our Liza? Polly. Tell me. Andrew. Liza's started courtin'! That's wot that whistlin's bin as we've bin 'earing so much lately. Polly (_stopping ironing_). Courtin'! At 'er age? Andrew. It's Gawd's truth. Wait while I catch the bloke wot's after 'er. I'll skin 'im alive. Polly (_sitting_). Liza courtin'! I don't know wot things is comin' to nowadays. Young girls are gettin' a set of forward hussies that haven't hardly laid by their skipping-ropes afore they're thinkin' they're ould enough to get wed. I fancied we'd brought 'er up different to that. Andrew. I'll fancy 'er--'er an' 'er fancy man, an' all. I'll teach 'im to come round 'ere whistling for our Liza. We ain't partin' with Liza yet. She's the only 'un left to us now. Polly. Yus. T'other girls went off a sight too young. Fust Martha an' then Sally must be havin' their blokes an' gettin' wed. But I didn't think it of Liza. She's kept 'er mouth shut. Them quiet 'uns are always deep. Andrew. Nature 'ull 'ave its way with 'em so what you do. (_Fiercely._) But I'll spoil this chap's little game. I don't like 'im, not arf like 'im I don't. Polly. Who is 'e? Andrew. Teddy Dawson's 'is name. Polly (_rising_). Teddy Dawson! Wild as they make 'em that chap is. 'E's after no good with Liza. Andrew. I'll mar 'is good looks if I catch 'im. 'E'll not be so keen on comin' an' whistlin' at street corner like a canary in a fit. And I'll give Liza the taste of my strap an' all. Polly (_firmly_). Yer'll not touch the girl. Andrew. Andrew. Who won't? Polly. I'll give 'er a piece of my mind. Andrew. An' I'll give 'er a piece of my belt.