But look at the smuts on them--look! This vile hole! I'd never have come to live here, in all the thick of the pit-grime, and lonely, if it hadn't been for him, so that he shouldn't call in a public-house on his road home from work. And now he slinks past on the other side of the railway, and goes down to the New Inn instead of coming in for his dinner. I might as well have stopped in Bestwood. BLACKMORE Though I rather like this little place, standing by itself. MRS. HOLROYD Jack, can you go and take the stockings in for me? They're on the line just below the pigsty. The prop's near the apple-tree--mind it. Minnie, you take the peg-basket. MINNIE Will there be any rats, mam? MRS. HOLROYD Rats--no. They'll be frightened when they hear you, if there are. [_The children go out._ BLACKMORE Poor little beggars! MRS. HOLROYD Do you know, this place is fairly alive with rats. They run up that dirty vine in front of the house--I'm always at him to cut it down--and you can hear them at night overhead like a regiment of soldiers tramping. Really, you know, I _hate_ them. BLACKMORE Well--a rat is a nasty thing! MRS. HOLROYD But I s'll get used to them. I'd give anything to be out of this place. BLACKMORE It _is_ rotten, when you're tied to a life you don't like. But I should miss it if you weren't here. When I'm coming down the line to the pit in the morning--it's nearly dark at seven now--I watch the firelight in here--Sometimes I put my hand on the wall outside where the chimney runs up to feel it warm--There isn't much in Bestwood, is there? MRS. HOLROYD There's less than nothing if you can't be like the rest of them--as common as they're 'made. BLACKMORE It's a fact--particularly for a woman--But this place is cosy--God love me, I'm sick of lodgings. MRS. HOLROYD You'll have to get married--I'm sure there are plenty of nice girls about. BLACKMORE Are there? I never see 'em. (_He laughs_) MRS. HOLROYD Oh, come, you can't say that. BLACKMORE I've not seen a single girl--an unmarried girl--that I should want for more than a fortnight--not one. MRS. HOLROYD Perhaps you're very particular. [_She puts her two palms on the table and leans back. He draws near to her, dropping his head._ BLACKMORE Look here! [_He has put his hand on the table near hers._ MRS. HOLROYD Yes, I know you've got nice hands--but you needn't be vain of them. BLACKMORE No--it's not that--But don't they seem--(_he glances swiftly at her; she turns her head aside; he laughs nervously_)--they sort of go well with one another. (_He laughs again_) MRS. HOLROYD They _do_, rather-- [_They stand still, near one another, with bent heads, for a moment. Suddenly she starts up and draws her hand away._ BLACKMORE Why--what is it? [_She does not answer. The children come in--Jack with an armful of stockings, Minnie with the basket of pegs._ JACK I believe it's freezing, mother. MINNIE Mr. Blackmore, could you shoot a rat an' hit it?