Hornblower.  Not at all.  God helps those who ’elp themselves—­ that’s at the bottom of all religion.  I’m goin’ to help meself, and God’s going to help me.

Mrs. H. I admire your knowledge.

Hillcrist. We are in the right, and God helps——­

Hornblower.  Don’t ye believe it; ye ’aven’t got the energy.

Mrs. H. Nor perhaps the conceit.

Hornblower. [Throwing out his forefinger] No, no; ’tisn’t conceit to believe in yourself when ye’ve got reason to. [The JACKMAN’S have entered.]

Hillcrist. I’m very sorry, Mrs. Jackman, but I just wanted you to realise that I’ve done my best with this gentleman.

Mrs. J. [Doubtfully] Yes, sir.  I thought if you spoke for us, he’d feel different-like.

Hornblower.  One cottage is the same as another, missis.  I made ye a fair offer of five pounds for the moving.

Jackman. [Slowly] We wouldn’t take fifty to go out of that ’ouse.  We brought up three children there, an’ buried two from it.

Mrs. J. [To Mrs. Hillcrist] We’re attached to it like, ma’am.

Hillcrist. [To Hornblower.] How would you like being turned out of a place you were fond of?

Hornblower.  Not a bit.  But little considerations have to give way to big ones.  Now, missis, I’ll make it ten pounds, and I’ll send a wagon to shift your things.  If that isn’t fair—!  Ye’d better accept, I shan’t keep it open.

     [The Jackmans look at each other; their faces show deep anger—­
     and the question they ask each other is which will speak.]

Mrs. J. We won’t take it; eh, George?

Jackman.  Not a farden.  We come there when we was married.

Hornblower. [Throwing out his finger] Ye’re very improvident folk.

Hillcrist. Don’t lecture them, Mr. Hornblower; they come out of this miles above you.

Hornblower. [Angry] Well, I was going to give ye another week, but ye’ll go out next Saturday; and take care ye’re not late, or your things’ll be put out in the rain.

Mrs. H. [To Mrs. Jackman] We’ll send down for your things, and you can come to us for the time being.

     [Mrs. Jackman drops a curtsey; her eyes stab Hornblowers.]

Jackman. [Heavily, clenching his fists] You’re no gentleman!  Don’t put temptation in my way, that’s all,

Hillcrist. [In a low voice] Jackman!

Hornblower. [Triumphantly] Ye hear that?  That’s your protegee!  Keep out o’ my way, me man, or I’ll put the police on to ye for utterin’ threats.

Hillcrist. You’d better go now, Jackman.

     [The Jackmans move to the door.]

Mrs. J. [Turning] Maybe you’ll repent it some day, sir.