Allen. (_Springing up and throwing book at him. Piff. exits r._) Yes. (_Piff. again appears hurriedly at door r. and cries, “Upstart bumpkin,” and exit quickly._) I’ll give ’ee my toe on the spot if I hear any more of--(_reseats himself, with a grunt of disgust; a pause, during which he smokes._) He is right, I wurn’t meant for a gentleman after all. Some of us was built for gaiters, and some on us for patent leather shoes, and I be one of the gaiter sort--all my tastes are low. I doan’t like claret and I doan’t like cigarettes. I’m uncomfortable in a collar (_picking his up and fixing it_) and I prefer shove-ha’penny to billiards. (_Sighs, continues dreamily._) Ah, I’d gie a trifle to be going to spend this evening at the Dunkery Arms a-halping to sing a chorus with old Joe Steddles and young Jem Whalley and Jack Clouter. Ah, he’d got a fine voice, had old Jack Clouter. Never heard a man sing so loud in all my life. Lord, I shall never forget her’s doing “Rock me to sleep, mother,” round at the lodge, and a waking up mother Hammond’s three kids just as her’d got un all off to sleep. Lord, how her let us have it. (_Laughing._) Ah, us went home early that night. (_Chuckling._) They coned back wi’ me, old Jack and Jim, and Deb made us a veal pasty for supper. (_Smiling._) Ah, her do make good-- (_Enter Peters, followed by Purtwee, door c., says, “Mr. Purtwee,” takes P.’s hat and exit. Allen rises and commences to pick up his various articles of apparel and re fix them while talking to Purt._) Purt. (_Coming forward._) Well, my boy. Allen. Ah, it does me good to see thee again. Purt. How are you? Allen. (_Shakes hands._) Oh, I be all right outside. (_Rises, crosses to L._) Bean’t very spry inside, so I tell ’ee. (_Explanatory of his dressing arrangements._) Just been having a quiet smoke, you know. Purt. (_With a smile._) And do you always undress to smoke? Allen. (_Laughing._) No--but I has to now when I want to sit down comfortable. (_Continues to dress--brings wine down to table._) Have a glass of wine. I’m glad thee’ve come, I wur afraid from thy letter that thee wouldn’t. Purt. (_Sits in arm-chair l._) Well, it’s a very informal proceeding I’m bound to say--not at all professional. Allen. Perhaps not, but it’s simple and straightforward like and maybe that’s as good. Have ’ee read the papers I sent thee? Purt. Yes--most carefully--and they certainly make the story appear very plausible--very plausible, indeed. Have you said anything to your mother? Allen. No--no, I thought I wouldn’t say a word to anybody until I was sure one way or t’other. (_Sits L._) Purt. Quite right--quite right. What sort of a man was he? Allen. Blest if I could tell ’ee--I wur that taken aback I couldn’t tell ’ee what it wur, but thee’ll see him for theeself in a minute. I told Father Christmas to send him straight up when he comes. Purt. (_Looking at his watch._) Well, if he’s an impostor, he’ll hardly venture to come to a meeting of this kind.