When our POLICEMAN comes, as come we may be sure he will, the test of his acumen will be his box action. The persons in the room at present have either no acumen or are familiar with the boxes. There are four of them, besides Cinderella, whom we catch in the act of adding to her means of livelihood. Celeste et Cie, a name that has caught her delicate fancy while she dashed through fashionable quarters, is the Penny Friend because here everything is dispensed for that romantic coin. It is evident that the fame of the emporium has spread. Three would-be customers sit on the bench awaiting their turn listlessly and as genteelly unconscious of each other as society in a dentist’s dining-room, while in the centre is Cinderella fitting an elderly gentleman with a new coat. There are pins in her mouth and white threads in the coat, suggesting that this is not her first struggle with it, and one of the difficulties with which she has to contend is that it has already evidently been the coat of a larger man. Cinderella is far too astute a performer to let it be seen that she has difficulties, however. She twists and twirls her patron with careless aptitude, kneads him if need be, and has him in a condition of pulp while she mutters for her own encouragement and his intimidation the cryptic remarks employed by tailors, as to the exact meaning of which she has already probed Mr. Bodie.

  CINDERELLA (wandering over her client with a tape). 35 — 14. (She consults a paper on the table.) Yes, it’s 35 — 14.

  (She pulls him out, contracts him and takes his elbows measure.)

  28 — 7; 41 — 12; 15 — 19. (There is something wrong, and she has to justify her handiwork. ) You was longer when you came on Monday.

  GENTLEMAN (very moved by the importance of the occasion). Don’t be saying that, Missy.

  CINDERELLA (pinning up the tails of his coat). Keep still.

  GENTLEMAN (with unexpected spirit). I warns you, Missy, I won’t have it cut.

  CINDERELLA (an artist). I’ll give you the bits.

  GENTLEMAN. I prefers to wear them.

  (She compares the coat with the picture of an elegant dummy.) Were you going to make me like that picture?

  CINDERELLA. I had just set my heart on copying this one. It’s the Volupty.

  GENTLEMAN ( faint-hearted). I’m thinkin’ I couldn’t stand like that man.

  CINDERELLA (eagerly). Fine you could — with just a little practice. I’ll let you see the effect.

  (She bends one of his knees, extends an arm and curves the other till he looks like a graceful teapot. She puts his stick in one hand and his hat in the other, and he is now coquettishly saluting a lady.)

  GENTLEMAN (carried away as he looks at himself in a glass). By Gosh! Cut away, Missy I

  CINDERELLA. I’ll need one more try-on.

  (Suddenly.) That’s to say if I’m here.

  GENTLEMAN (little understanding the poignancy of the remark). If it would be convenient to you to have the penny now —

  CINDERELLA. No, not till I’ve earned it. It’s my rule. Good night to you, Mr. Jennings.

  GENTLEMAN. Good night, Missy.

  (We see him go out by the door and disappear up the street.)

  CINDERELLA (sharply). Next.

  (An old woman comes to the table and

  CINDERELLA politely pretends not to have seen her sitting there.) It’s Mrs. Maloney!

  MRS. M. Cinders, I have a pain. It’s like a jag of a needle down my side.

  CINDERELLA (with a sinking, for she is secretly afraid of medical cases). Wait till I pop the therm-mo-mometer in. It’s a real one. (She says this with legitimate pride. She removes the instrument from MRS. MALONEY’S mouth after a prudent interval, and is not certain what to do next.) Take a deep breath.... Again.... Say 99.

  (Her ear is against the patient’s chest.)

  MRS. M. 99.

  CINDERELLA (at a venture). Oho!

  MRS. M. It ain’t there the pain is — it’s down my side.

  CINDERELLA (firmly). We never say 99 down there.

  MRS. M. What’s wrong wi’ me?

  CINDERELLA (candidly). I don’t want for to pretend, Mrs. Maloney, that the 99 is any guidance to me. I can not find out what it’s for. I would make so bold as to call your complaint muscular rheumatics if the pain came when you coughed. But you have no cough.

  MRS. M. (coming to dose quarters). No, but he has — my old man. It’s him that has the pains, not me.

  CINDERELLA (hurt). What for did you pretend it was you?

  MRS. M. That was his idea. He was feared you might stop his smoking.

  CINDERELLA. And SO I will.

  MRS. M. What’s the treatment?

  CINDERELLA (writing after consideration on a piece of paper). One of them mustard leaves.

  MRS. M. (taking the paper). Is there no medicine?

  CINDERELLA (faltering). I’m a little feared about medicine, Mrs. Maloney.

  MRS. M. He’ll be a kind of low-spirited if there’s not a lick of medicine.

  CINDERELLA. Have you any in the house?

  MRS. M. There’s what was left over of the powders my lodger had when the kettle fell on his foot.

  CINDERELLA. You could give him one of them when the cough is troublesome. Good night, Mrs. Maloney.

  MRS. M. Thank you kindly. (She puts a penny on the table.)

  CINDERELLA (with polite surprise). What’s that?

  MRS. M. It’s the penny.

  CINDERELLA. So it is! Good night, Mrs. Maloney.

  MRS. M. Good night, Cinders.

  (She departs. The penny falls into CINDERELLA’S box with a pleasant clink.)

  CINDERELLA. Next.

  (A woman of 35 comes forward. She is dejected, thin-lipped, and unlovable.)

  MARION (tossing her head). You ‘re surprised to see me, I dare say.

  CINDERELLA (guardedly). I haven’t the pleasure of knowing you.

  MARION (glancing at the remaining occupant of the bench). Is that man sleeping? Who is he? I don’t know him.

  CINDERELLA. He’s sleeping. What can I do for you?

  MARION (harshly). Nothing, I dare say. I’m at Catullo’s Buildings. Now they ‘re turning me out. They say I’m not respectable.

  CINDERELLA (enlightened). You ‘re — that woman?

  MARION (defiantly). That’s me.

  CINDERELLA (shrinking). I don’t think there’s nothing I could do for you.

  MARION (rather appealing). Maybe there is. I see you’ve heard my story. They say there’s a man comes to see me at times though he has a wife in Hoxton.

  CINDERELLA. I’ve heard.

  MARION. So I’m being turned out.

  CINDERELLA. I don’t think it’s a case for me.

  MARION. Yes, it is.

  CINDERELLA. Are you terrible fond of him?

  MARION. Fond of him! Damn him!

  (CINDERELLA shrinks, MARION makes sure that the man is asleep.) Cinders, they’ve got the story wrong; it’s me as is his wife; I was married to him in a church. He met that woman long after and took up with her.

  CINDERELLA. What! Then why do you not tell the truth?

  MARION. It’s my pride keeps me from telling. I would rather be thought to be the wrong ‘un he likes than the wife the law makes him help.

  CINDERELLA. Is that pride?

  MARION. It’s all the pride that’s left to me.

  CINDERELLA. I’m awful sorry for you, but I can’t think of no advice to give you.

  MARION. It’s not advice I want.

  CINDERELLA. What is it then?

  MARION. It’s pity. I fling back all the gutter words they fling at me, but my heart, Cinders, is wet at times. It’s wet for one to pity me.

  CINDERELLA. I pity you.

  MARION. You’ll tell nobody?

  CINDERELLA. No.

  MARION. Can I come in now and again at a time?

  CINDERELLA. I’ll be glad to see you — if I’m here.

  MARION. I’ll be slipping away now; he’s waking up. (She puts down her penny.)

  CINDERELLA. I ‘m not doing it for no penny.

  MARION. You’ve got to take it. That’s my pride. But — I wish you well, Cinders.

  CINDERELLA. I like you. I wish you would wish me luck. Say ‘Good luck to you tonight, Cinderella.’

  MARION. Why tonight?

  (The little waif, so practical until now, is afire inside again. She needs a confidant almost as much as MARION.)

  CINDERELLA (hastily). You see —

  (The MAN sits up.) Good evening, Missis.

  MARION. Good luck to you tonight, Cinderella.

  (She goes.)

  (The MAN slips forward and lifts the penny.)

  CINDERELLA (returning to earth sharply). Put that down.

  MAN. I was only looking at the newness of it. I was just admiring the design.

  (The newness and the design both disappear into the box. A bearded person wearing the overalls of a seafaring man lurches down the street and enters the emporium. Have we seen him before? Who can this hairy monster be?)

  POLICEMAN (in an incredibly gruff voice). I want a pennyworth.

  CINDERELLA (unsuspecting). Sit down. (She surveys the coster.) It’s you that belongs to the shirt, isn’t it?

  MAN. Yes; is’t ready?

  CINDERELLA. It’s ready.

  (It proves to be not a shirt, but a ‘front’ of linen, very stiff and starched. The laundress cautiously retains possession of it.) The charge is a penny.

  MAN. On delivery. — .

  CINDERELLA. Before delivery.

  MAN. Surely you can trust me.

  CINDERELLA. You’ve tried that on before, my man. Never again! All in this street knows my rule, — Trust in the Lord — every other person, cash.

  (A penny and a ‘shirt’ pass between them and he departs. Cinderella turns her attention to the newcomer.) What’s your pleasure? POLICEMAN. Shave, please. Cinderella (quivering before his beard). Shave! I shaves in an ordinary way, but I don’t know as I could tackle that. POLICEMAN. I thought you was a barber. Cinderella (stung). I’ll get the lather.

  (She goes doubtfully into what she calls her bedroom. He seizes this opportunity to survey the room. A remarkable man this, his attention is at once riveted on the boxes, but before he can step on a chair and take a peep the barber returns with the implements of her calling. He reaches his chair in f time not to be caught by her. She brings a bowl of soap and water and a towel, which she puts round him in the correct manner.)

  CINDERELLA. You ‘re thin on the top.

  POLICEMAN (in his winding sheet). I’ve all run to beard.

  CINDERELLA (the ever ready). I have a ointment for the hair; it is my own invention. The price is a penny.

  POLICEMAN (gruffly). Beard, please.

  CINDERELLA. I’ve got some voice drops.

  POLICEMAN. Beard, please.

  CINDERELLA (as she prepares the lather). Is the streets quiet?

  POLICEMAN (cunningly). Hereabouts they are; but there’s great doings in the fashionable quarters. A ball, I’m told.

  CINDERELLA (gasping). You didn’t see no peculiar person about in this street?

  POLICEMAN. How peculiar?

  CINDERELLA. Like a — a flunkey?

  POLICEMAN. Did I now — or did I not?

  CINDERELLA (eagerly). He would be carrying an invite maybe; it’s a big card.

  POLICEMAN. I can’t say I saw him.

  (Here an astonishing thing happens. The head of a child rises from one of the boxes. She is unseen by either of the mortals.)

  CINDERELLA (considering the beard). How do I start with the like of this?

  POLICEMAN. First you saws...

  (She attempts to saw. The beard comes off in her hand.)

  CINDERELLA (recognising his face). You!

  POLICEMAN (stepping triumphantly out of his disguise). Me!

  (As sometimes happens, however, the one who means to give the surprise gets a greater. At sight of his dreaded uniform the child screams, whereat two other children in other boxes bob up and scream also. It is some time before the POLICEMAN can speak.)

  So that’s what the boxes was for!

  CINDERELLA (feebly). Yes.

  POLICEMAN (portentously). Who and what are these phenomenons?

  CINDERELLA (protectingly). Don’t be frightened, children. Down!

  (They disappear obediently.) There’s no wrong in it. They ‘re just me trying to do my bit. It’s said all should do their bit in wartime. It was into a hospital I wanted to go to nurse the wounded soldiers. I offered myself at every hospital door, but none would have me, so this was all I could do.

  POLICEMAN. You’re taking care of them?

  (She nods.) Sounds all right. Neighbours’ children?

  CINDERELLA. The brown box is. She’s half of an orphan, her father’s a bluejacket, so, of course, I said I would.

  POLICEMAN. YOU need say no more. I pass little bluejacket.

  CINDERELLA. Those other two is allies. She’s French — and her’s a Belgy. (Calls.) Marie-Therese! —— .

  (The French child sits up.) Speak your language to the gentleman, Marie-Therese.

  MARIE. Bon soir, monsieur — comment portez-vous? Je t’aime. (She curtsies charmingly to him from the box.)

  POLICEMAN. Well, I ‘m — d!

  CINDERELLA. Delphine.

  (The Belgian looks up.) Make votre bow. Gladys.

  (The English child bobs up.) A friend, Gladys.

  (GLADYS and the POLICEMAN grin to each other.)

  GLADYS. What cheer!

  CINDERELLA. Monsieur is a Britain’s defender.

  MARIE. Oh, la, la! Parlez-vous français, monsieur? Non! I blow you two kisses, Monsieur — the one is to you (kisses hand) to keep, the other you will give — (kisses hand) to Kitch.

  POLICEMAN (writing). Sends kiss to Lord Kitchener.

  CINDERELLA. She’s the one that does most of the talking.

  POLICEMAN (who is getting friendly). I suppose that other box is an empty.

  (CINDERELLA’S mouth closes.)

  Is that box empty?

  CINDERELLA. It’s not exactly empty.

  POLICEMAN. What’s inside?

  CINDERELLA. She’s the littlest.

  (The children exchange glances and she is severe.) Couchy.

  (They disappear.)

  POLICEMAN. An ally?

  CINDERELLA. She’s — she’s — Swiss.

  POLICEMAN (lowering). Now then!

  CINDERELLA. She’s not exactly Swiss. You can guess now what she is.

  POLICEMAN (grave). This puts me in a very difficult position.

  CINDERELLA (beginning to cry). Nobody would take her. She was left over. I tried not to take her. I’m a patriot, I am. But there she was — left over — and her so terrible little — I couldn’t help taking her.

  POLICEMAN. I dunno. (Quite unfairly.) If her folk had been in your place and you in hers, they would have shown neither mercy nor pity for you.

  CINDERELLA (stoutly). That makes no difference.

  POLICEMAN (was this the great moment?). I think there’s something uncommon about you.

  CINDERELLA (pleased). About me?

  POLICEMAN. I suppose she’s sleeping?

  CINDERELLA. Not her!

  POLICEMAN. What’s she doing?

  CINDERELLA. She’s strafing!

  POLICEMAN. Who’s she strafing?

  CINDERELLA. Very likely you. She misses nobody. You see I’ve put some barb-wire round her box.

  POLICEMAN. I see now.

  CINDERELLA. It’s not really barb-wire. It’s worsted. I was feared the wire would hurt her. But it just makes a difference.

  POLICEMAN. HOW do the others get on with her?

  CINDERELLA. I makes them get on with her.