Pygmalion

tried.

The Daughter
It’s too tiresome. Do you expect us to go and get one ourselves?


Freddy
I tell you they’re all engaged. The rain was so sudden: nobody was prepared; and everybody had to take a cab. I’ve been to Charing Cross one way and nearly to Ludgate Circus the other; and they were all engaged.


The Mother
Did you try Trafalgar Square?


Freddy
There wasn’t one at Trafalgar Square.


The Daughter
Did you try?


Freddy
I tried as far as Charing Cross Station. Did you expect me to walk to Hammersmith?


The Daughter
You haven’t tried at all.


The Mother
You really are very helpless, Freddy. Go again; and don’t come back until you have found a cab.


Freddy
I shall simply get soaked for nothing.


The Daughter
And what about us? Are we to stay here all night in this draught, with next to nothing on. You selfish pig⁠—


Freddy
Oh, very well: I’ll go, I’ll go. He opens his umbrella and dashes off Strandwards, but comes into collision with a flower girl, who is hurrying in for shelter, knocking her basket out of her hands. A blinding flash of lightning, followed instantly by a rattling peal of thunder, orchestrates the incident.


The Flower Girl
Nah then, Freddy: look wh’ y’ gowin, deah.


Freddy
Sorry. He rushes off.


The Flower Girl
Picking up her scattered flowers and replacing them in the basket. There’s menners f’ yer! Te-oo banches o voylets trod into the mad. She sits down on the plinth of the column, sorting her flowers, on the lady’s right. She is not at all an attractive person. She is perhaps eighteen, perhaps twenty, hardly older. She wears a little sailor hat of black straw that has long been exposed to the dust and soot of London and has seldom if ever been brushed. Her hair needs washing rather badly: its mousy color can hardly be natural. She wears a shoddy black coat that reaches nearly to her knees and is shaped to her waist. She has a brown skirt with a coarse apron. Her boots are much the worse for wear. She is no doubt as clean as she can afford to be; but compared to the ladies she is very dirty. Her features are no worse than theirs; but their condition leaves something to be desired; and she needs the services of a dentist.


The Mother
How do you know that my son’s name is Freddy, pray?


The Flower Girl
Ow, eez ye-ooa san, is e? Wal, fewd dan y’ de-ooty bawmz a mather should, eed now bettern to spawl a pore gel’s flahrzn than ran awy atbaht pyin. Will ye-oo py me f’them? Here, with apologies, this desperate attempt to represent her dialect without a phonetic alphabet must be abandoned as unintelligible outside London.


The Daughter
Do nothing of the sort, mother. The idea!


The Mother
Please allow me, Clara. Have you any pennies?


The Daughter
No. I’ve nothing smaller than sixpence.


The Flower Girl
Hopefully. I can give you change for a tanner, kind lady.


The Mother
To Clara. Give it to me. Clara parts reluctantly. Now. To the girl. This is for your flowers.


The Flower Girl
Thank you kindly, lady.


The Daughter
Make her give you the change. These things are only a penny a bunch.


The Mother
Do hold your tongue, Clara. To the girl. You can keep the change.


The Flower Girl
Oh, thank you, lady.


The Mother
Now tell me how you know that young gentleman’s name.


The Flower Girl
I didn’t.


The Mother
I heard you call him by it. Don’t try to deceive me.


The Flower Girl
Protesting. Who’s trying to deceive you? I called him Freddy or Charlie same as you might yourself if you was talking to a stranger and wished to be pleasant. She sits down beside her basket.


The Daughter
Sixpence thrown away! Really, mamma, you might have spared Freddy that. She retreats in disgust behind the pillar.



An elderly gentleman of the amiable military type rushes into shelter, and closes a dripping umbrella. He is in the same plight as Freddy, very wet about the ankles. He is in evening dress, with a light overcoat. He takes the place left vacant by the daughter’s retirement.


The Gentleman
Phew!


The Mother
To the gentleman. Oh, sir, is there any sign of its stopping?


The Gentleman
I’m afraid not. It started worse than ever about two minutes ago. He goes to the plinth beside the flower girl; puts up his foot on it; and stoops to turn down his trouser ends.


The Mother
Oh, dear! She retires sadly and joins her daughter.


The Flower Girl
Taking advantage of the military gentleman’s proximity to establish friendly relations with him. If it’s worse it’s a sign it’s nearly over. So cheer up, Captain; and buy a flower off a poor girl.


The Gentleman
I’m sorry, I haven’t any change.


The Flower Girl
I can give you change, Captain,


The Gentleman
For a sovereign? I’ve nothing less.


The Flower Girl
Garn! Oh do buy a flower off me, Captain. I can change half-a-crown. Take this for tuppence.


The Gentleman
Now don’t be troublesome: there’s a good girl. Trying his pockets. I really haven’t any change⁠—Stop: here’s three hapence, if that’s any use to you. He retreats to the other pillar.


The Flower Girl
Disappointed, but thinking three halfpence better than nothing. Thank you, sir.


A Bystander
To the girl. You be careful: give him a flower for it. There’s a bloke here behind taking down every blessed word you’re saying. All turn to the man who is taking notes.


The Flower Girl
Springing up terrified. I ain’t done nothing wrong by speaking to the gentleman. I’ve a right to sell flowers if I keep off the kerb. Hysterically. I’m a respectable girl: so help me, I never spoke to him except to ask him to buy a flower off me. General hubbub, mostly sympathetic to the flower girl, but deprecating her excessive sensibility. Cries of Don’t start hollerin. Who’s hurting you?