PR 4007 Class JHiirJl^ Book. "K -' ' • ' Copyright}!? ^ ClieXRIGHT DEPOSm THE PIPE OF PEACE A Play in three acts by A. E. Drinkwater J Birmingham * Cornish Brothers Ltd PubHshers to the University 39 New Street 1922 Copyright 1922 by Albert Edwin Drink'water V All Dramalic Rights reserved by the Author PRINTED BY MOODY BROS., BIRMINGHAM JUL 2},m2i % f 'Cl,D (J 154 2 To THE CAPTAINS AND RANK AND FILE OF INDUSTRY To all, that is, who, in their several ways, contribute to the making of essential things ' Oh, it is excellent To have a Giant's strength : but it is tyrannous To use it like a Giant.' Measure fur Measure, THE PIPE OF PEACE A Play in Three Acts TEliSONS OF THE TLAY BOB BRANDON ROBERT BRANDON ALAN BRANDON COWLEY SMITH DR. WELLS STEPHEN COLE TOM COPPOCK ALICE BRANDON JUDY BRANDON ^cene - - cA small Industrial English Town. <:Act I. Boh 'Brandon s Qottage. August /^th^ 1 9 14. <^ct II. Tiohert 'Brandon s House. Decembery 19 19. eAct III. I{gbert Brandon s House. May 24//^, 1924. The Pipe of Peace ACT I. The scene is the living room in Bob Brandon's cottage, in a small industrial town. Most of the inhabitants are employed at the large factory, which is the most important feature of the place. Bob Brandon's home, which was his father's and his father's father's before him, is almost too sub- stantial to be called a cottage. It has half-a- dozen bedrooms and has, in past generations, accommodated moderately large families ; and there has been room enough for them to live decently and in comfort. For longer than can be remembered there have been Brandons working at the factory . They have done skilled work and earned fair wages. There is no family in the town that is better known, or more generally respected. Bob is seventy, but he still insists on going to work every day, and has still the reputation of being the best man in the factory at his ov^nm par- ticulEir job. The room is not a small one. It is furnished with good simple furniture, which originally cost little, but has always been taken care of. It is a beautiful, well-kept, scrupulously clean English cottage interior. 6 THE PIPE OF PEACE There is a fireplace at the back. On the left, from the actor's point of view, there is a window, and below it a door opening on to the street. On the right there is a door leading to the kitchen, where, except on great occasions, all the meals are taken. It is the evening of August 4th, 1914. Bob is sitting in a comfortable chair, right of the table, reading the paper. There is a knock at the door. Bob : Come in. The street door opens, and Dr. WelLS is seen standing in the doorway, with a cheery smile on his face. He is a year or two younger than BoB. He is carelessly dressed in tweeds. At first sight he impresses you as a genial, lovable man; and further acquaintance always confirms the impres- sion. Bob : You, Doctor ! Come in . . . come along in. Dr. W. : How are you. Bob? He shuts the door and comes in. Bob : I'm getting on. When the sun shone this morning 1 walked to the top of the hill and back. 1 haven't missed a day at the works. Dr. W. : Capital ! He sits left of table. This isn't a professional visit. I dropped in for a chat» Bob : You're welcome. Dr. W. : May I smoke my pipe? Bob : Why, of course. THE PIPE OF PEACE 7 Dr. W. : Where's yours? BoB picJ^s up his pipe jrom the table. Fill up. He offers his pouch. Bob : Thank you, Doctor, but I like a whiff o' flavour in my baccy. He fills his pipe with shag jrom a finely polished old steel round box which he tak^s jrom his pocket. Dr. W. : All right. Stick to your shag, you old barbarian ! They light their pipes. Bob : You don't like shag? Queer, isn't it? Whenever we get together we get at cross pur- poses. He chuckles pleasantly. Do you remem- ber the first time? Fifty . . . fifty-three years ago ! Dr. W. (laughing): Was it? Fifty-three years, eh? What did we squabble about then, Bob? Bob : You were fishing, and 1 was coming home from work, by the river. Dr. W. : 1 remember. He chuckles. We argued about casts. You slipped off my fly, rummaged in my box, and whipped on another. Bob : And you lost your temper. Doctor, and threw down your rod, and shouted, ' If you know so much about it, you'd better fish yourself.' Dr. W. (laughing at the recollection) : And you did . . . and in ten minutes hooked the fish I'd been after all the afternoon. Bob : And 1 kept the fish . . . you made me ... a pound and three-quarters, it was ... a beauty. Mother cooked it to a turn, and we had a grand supper. 8 THE PIPE OF PEACE Dr. W. : H . . . h . . . ha ! Do you remem- ber what you said, as you marched off along the bank? Bob {shaking his head) : N ... no. Dr. W. : * No sense in trying the Mayfly in June.' Bob : That's right, Doctor, that's right. And it's worth remembering by other folk besides fishermen. Dr. W. : I suppose so. You've got a wise old head. Bob. It does me good to have a pow-wow with you. Since I gave up practice . . . except for half-a-dozen incorrigible old cripples like yourself . . . Bob : 1 could never understand why you gave up. You're good for another ten years, or more. Dr. W. : I'm very well, thank God. You see I've set up my nephew. I want him to get on, and get all the work he can. His dear mother needs help . . . and he's talking of a wife. So it's best to leave it to him as much as may be. Bob : I see. I didn't rightly understand. Dr. W. : But I miss it. I'm a pretty lonely old chap. Bob. Most of my pals are gone . . . and I've no children. Bob (after a pause) : Children baint always a comfort to their fathers ... as you've only got to look down the street to see. Not that I've anything to complain of. I'm lucky. My boys and girl are all I'd have 'em be, thank God. Dr. W. : Any more news of David? THE PIPE OF PEACE 9 Bob : A letter last night. It's settled. He's leaving Melbourne . . . going to Sydney. It's a lot better job, by all accounts . . . under the Government. Dr. W. : Good luck to him ! And Robert, he's making a name for himself. What's he at to-night? They say the People's Hall is cram- med, everybody from the works there . . . and Robert's been talking nearly an hour. Bob : Robert was always a great one for a speech . . , and a great reader. Dr. W. : He's wise; no friends like good books. I don't know what I'd do without them. What's he talking about to-night? Strikes? Bob : Not of Robert's making. Seems to me. Doctor, there's bigger things to call meetings for, and be making speeches about than what's doing at the works. It's no time for differences at home. He points to the newspaper. Dr. W. : You're right. Bob. There's mis- chief brewing in Europe, such as the world's never seen. Bob : So I think. He taJ^es o0 his spectacles . But nobody down here seems to know it, or believe it. Last night, at the Cap and Bells, they laughed at me when I said we might be at war within a week. Dr. W. : TTiat's England all over. Tlie Cap and Bells is England. We laugh, and say a thing's impossible, when we ought to be getting ready. 10 THE PIPE OF PEACE Alice comes in. She is a pretty, slender girl of twenty-one. Bob : Been to the meeting ? Alice : Good evening, Doctor. Yes, Dad. Dr. W. : But you don't work at the factory, my dear. Alice : No. She goes to work-table on right, iak.es out work, and sits. But I wanted to hear what . . . what they . . . what Robert had to say. Dr. W. : When I look at Alice, and at Robert, 1 can hardly believe they're brother and sister. Bob (laughing) : I've often said the same. There's eighteen years between them. Robert's thirty -nine, and this baby's twenty -one. Alice (ajter pause) : Dad, I think there's bad news. There's all sorts of reports in the streets. Dr. W. : War news? Alice : Yes, Doctor. She stops work, ^^^ hands jail on her k^^^s, end she becomes Very thoughtful. Do you think it's true? She looks anxiously at the Doctor, who doesn't answer. Almost in tears. Oh, my God, if it is ! What shall we do ? Dr. W. : We'll hope for the best, my dear, till we know. Robert, Alan and Cowley Smith come in by door left. Alice puts her work away, and gets up. Robert and Alan hang up their hats, and CoWLEY his cap on pegs up left of the fireplace. Robert, aged thirty-nine, is a fine THE PIPE OF PEACE 11 type of the skilled English workman, tall, rather stout, with a bright, intelligent face. Alan, about thirty, is a young parson ; he is tall, but slight. He is a young man of convictions, who has made his way into the church by his industry and ability. He is very simple, very pleasant, and likeable. CoWLEY, who is twenty -five, is a little rougher than the other two, slightly aggres- sive, but not unpleasantly so. ROBERT sits in arm chair left of fireplace. Alan stands on his right. Cowley goes over to chair right, near work-table, where ALICE was sitting. Later, after Alice has gone out, he sits there, turning the chair a little towards the others. There is a general interchange of nods, and * How do you do's?' Bob {as they come in) : Get a bit o' supper, my dear. Alice goes out by door right. Robert : How are you. Doctor? Dr. W. {he nods pleasantly to Robert; then turns to Alan) : You're looking well. Got your holiday ? Alan : We're putting in a quiet week with Dad; then we're going to the sea. Judy's fond of the sea. Dr. W. : Good judge. She well? Alan : Splendid. She'll be here directly. Dr. W. : Is there any news? Alan : War news ? 12 THE PIPE OF PEACE Dr. W. : Yes. Alice says . . . Alan : No, nothing clear . . . rumours, that's all. Judy's gone to Major Armstrcng's, to see if he knows anything. Bob {shaJiing his head) : I'm afraid ... I'm afraid . . . Pause. What did you do at the meeting, Robert? Cowley {with rather sullen enzphasis) : Nothing. Robert (firm, but not angry) : And you never will, till you learn to be fair to both sides. If we'd pulled together, we should have got all we've any right to ask, and masters and men good friends to the finish. But you, and your section, have inflamed the men, some of them, with wild notions. Cowley : You've no right to talk of wild notions, just because you don't see as far as we do. Robert : Cowley, my lad. i like you. You're going to marry Alice, and I want to . . . well, more than like you. But don't think you, and your set, have got all the sense. In days past Labour had two great enemies, their own deadly apathy, and the v/rong uns among the employers. They weren't all wrong uns. If w« could know the truth, I expect you'd find they were good, and bad, in about the ssme proportions as any other class. From all accounts, there was never anything to complain of here till Sir William died, and the factorj'' became a limited liability com- pany. Now, you've got rid of your apathy, and THE PIPE OF PEACE 13 you've gone to the other extreme. It isn't merely unrest . . . it's a passion for unrest, and it's growing. Cowley : Thank God for it. Robert : It's not a blessing, altogether. It has brought into existence two new enemies of Labour . . . the fanatic, who means well, but sees red, and the scoundrel with no principle, who knows his living as a paid agitator, depends on lashing the men into fury. Cowley : There's things to be furious about. The manager should take back Arnold Penman. Alan : No, 1 don't agree, Cowley. I'm all for giving a man a second, and a third chance; but there's no prosperity in any factory if there's no discipline. Robert : Arnold's been on the wrong road for months. He's neglected his work, and the manager passed it over more than once. Last Monday he was half-an-hour late, and, when he did come, he was drunk. And the manager told him to clear out. Cowley : There ought to have been an enquiry. It was never proved. I don't believe he was drunk. Dr. W. : You don't want to believe it, Cowley. But you knov/ it's true, all the same. Cowley : Look here. Doctor. It's no good your putting in your spoke. Old folks don't see things in the same light. Dr. W. : Rubbish . . . trite rubbish, Cowley. 14 THE PIPE OF PEACE Cowley : It's right. The old make the laws. The old perpetuate the customs of the past . . . and the young kick over the traces. It's natural. Dr. W. : It's natural for a colt to resent the bridle, but he's got to get used to it, if he's ever to do a horse's work, and earn his living. I'm not too old to be keen about the future, but I'm old enough to know I've blundered into a lot of mistakes. No, Cowley, you're wrong. It's good for the old to help the young to shape things. They're less likely to be swayed by what just concerns themselves, and not the community. Bob : That's right, Doctor, that's quite right. Cowley doesn't understand, but I do ... so would Alice. Cowley : What's Alice got to do with it? Dr. W. : What's Alice got to do with it^ Laughing pleasantly. Cowley, my son, I helped you into the world. 1 saw your mother die two years after. After your father's accident, for three months I tried to help him in his fight for life. You've had no parents since you were six. You've had a hard life, but you're made of fine stuff. If your hard life has twisted you a little, it hasn't spoilt you. Cowley (a little moved, but a little resentful} : I don't want to be patronized. Doctor. You mean well, but I don't like it. Dr. W. : But I've a great opinion of you, Cowley. 1 expect you to do something in the world. But you haven't come to wisdom yet. I said the young were apt to think too much of THE PIPE OF PEACE 15 what concerns themselves, and not the com- munity. Bob understands ; he says Alice would understand. But you don't. You're Arnold Penmcin's champion because you've been brought up together, emd you're loyal to an old friend . . . and I'd say * Be damned to you if you weren't. ' What makes you twice as loyal is that Arnold wants to marry Alice, and she's chosen you. A mean chap would have joined the cry against Arnold, but you see less folly and more good in him than there really is. Robert : Arnold's not a bad chap, but he's got into a bad set. If he left the place and started fresh somewhere else, he'd be all right. But he's put himself in the wrong, and the demand that the manager should take him back is making the settlement of our difference impossible. Alice comes in by door right. She goes to her father, and puts her hands on his shoulders. Alice : Supper's ready, dad. Bob : Come, boys, eind have a crust. Come, Doctor. Dr. W. : I've had my supper, but I'll keep you company. Bob, Robert, Alan and the Doctor go off by door right. Alice is standing at the back of the chair right of table. CoWLEY is seated down right. Alice {after a pause) : Aren't you coming, Cowley ? 16 THE PIPE OF PEACE Cowley : No, I told Mrs. Clay to get some- thing ready. He gets up. He comes close to her^ on her right; she looks up at him. He takes her face in his hands and J^isses her. Alice : I wish you and father and the boys didn't always disagree. Cowley : We don't. We all want to get to the same place, but we want to go by our own short cuts . . . and we can't agree which cut's the shortest. Alice : I'm sorry for Arnold Penman. Cowley : So am I, damned sorry. Alice : He's always so nice to me. I couldn't do as he wanted, but I like him. I think it was splendid of you to stand up for him at the meeting. Cowley : You didn't hear what the Doctor said. It's right, a good deal of it. It was, partly, because ... I knew you'd like it. She takes his hand and kisses it, and looks into his face. They stand quite still for a moment. She looks away from him, straight in jront oj her. Alice : Cowley ! Cowley : Yes. Alice (tears are coming, hut she fights against them): Do you . . . think it's true? She looks at him. Cowley : What they're saying . . . about war? She nods. It looks very bad. Pause. lt*s horrible men can't live in peace ! Every step we've taken towards progress . . . and better THE PIPE OF PEACE 17 times ... all to go by the board. All men's worst instincts roused. Alice {smiling quaintly at him) : Cowley, you are funny . . . sometimes. Cowley : Funny ! Good Lord ! How funny ? Alice : What you said . . . about men living in peace. Cowley : What's wrong with my saying that? Alice : There's nothing wrong with it. Only, at the meeting, it's just what some of us thought about you all, when you were losing your tempers, and caHing one another names. Cowley (he turns from her, wallas a couple of steps away to the right, puzzled and thoughtful ; then back, to her. He speak.s very earnestly) : My God, little girl, 1 didn't know you could see things . . . like that. Alice : You are in earnest, Cowley . about everything . . . when you talk to the men . . . when you see something for the first time . . . SmJling ... as you did just now. Cowley : Alice, I . . . He is going to he Very much m earnest. Alice {holding up her face, and sm.iling ct him) : Kiss me. Cowley (smiling hadi; he is now very charm- ing; he kisses her) : V/hc wouldn't fall in love u'ith you . . . you little wonder ! Alice (teasing) : Why did you ? Cowley : I didn't mean to ... I meant net to ... 1 meant not to fall in lov-e with any woman. Getting serious again. I meant to be 18 THE PIPE OF PEACE free to work for what seemed to matter most in the world ... to be free . . . and, then, if my way led to trouble, nobody else would suffer. Alice (nestling up to him; Very gently and sincerely) : If your way led to trouble, 1 shouldn't like not to suffer, too ... a little. Cowley (he tal^es her in his arms) : Alice, my dear, we'll do something in the world . . . you and 1. They hear the others coming hac\, and separate Very quietly. The door right is opened, and BoB, ROBERT, Alan and the DoCTOR are heard talking together, and laughing a little. They come in, talking as they come. Alan and the DOCTOR come first; the other two follow. Alan (as they come through the door) : Judy ? She said she'd come along. I'll go and find her. He tal^es his hat. Ashe is going to the door left, there is a ]inoc\. Alan opens the door, and speak.s to someone outside. Mr. Robert Brzin- don? Yes. He comes a step into the room. Alan lets in Stephen Cole; then goes out himself, and closes the door. STEPHEN is a rather delicate young man of twenty -eight, with a pleasant, intelligent face. Alice has gone to the chair left of the fireplace cmd is sitting. Cowley is standing on her right. BoB goes to the chair right of fireplace and sits. ROBEIRT sits at the right of the table, and the DoCTOR opposite to him at the left of the table. THE PIPE OF PEACE 19 Stephen (at the door) : Mr. Robert Brandon ? Robert : I'm Robert Brandon. Stephen : You won't know me. My name is Stephen Cole, i know your brother David, Mr. Brandon. Bob [very interested, and a little excited) : A friend o' David's? He comes behind the Doctor, and shakes hands with STEPHEN, Come in, come in, sir. Robert : My father, Mr. Cole. He also has risen, and stands by his chair right of the table. Stephen : I'm very glad to meet you, sir. Bob : You know David? When did you see him? Was he very well? 1 hear from him most weeks. He says he's well. Stephen : Very well, when I saw him . . . and prosF>erous. Robert (meeting him and shaking hands) : If you're a friend of David's you're very welcome. He gets the chair jrom near the small work-table right, and places it jor STEPHEN a little to the right and in front oj his own chair. BoB has gone back to his chair, and sits watching STEPHEN. As Robert sits again right oj table, he introduces the others. Doctor Wells, my sister Alice, Cowley Smith . Stephen (as he sits down after nodding to them) : I want some information, and 1 want your help, Mr. Brandon. Robert : Help? He looks at Stephen a little puzzled; it is clearly not material help he wants. What . . . what can . . . 20 THE PIPE OF PEACE Stephen : I was at your meeting. It interested me very much. But I noticed . . . I've noticed tKe same thing at many meetings, in different parts of the country , . . Cowley {a little suspicious) : Did you come to the meeting ... to report for some newspaper, or . . . Stephen : No, no. I've nothing to do with any paper. I came quite on my own account. Cowley : Well, let's know where we are. You're a stranger to us. Bob : Cowley, Cowley, he . . . Cowley : All right, Mr. Brandon. To Stephen. This meeting v/as for the men at the works. Stephen : Oh, I'm sorry. I saw a notice on the gate. If it was a private meeting, I apologize. Robert : No, that's all right. Nothing private about it. Cowley : Oh, no. Only, before anybody goes answering; questions about our business at the meeting, it's as well to know who we're talk- ing to. Stephen : I think that's sound. If it interests you, I can tell you all there is to tell about myself in a few words. Bob : No, Mr. ... Stephen : Cole. Bob : No, Mr. Cole, there's no occasion. As a friend of David's we're glad to welcome your and I'm sure, if Robert can be of any service . . . THE PIPE OF PEACE 21 Robert nods, but Cowley does not exactly looJ^ approval. STEPHEN notes this. Stephen : Mr. Smith's right, Mr. Brandon. One has to be careful. Cowley {a little rebuffed) : So far as the meet- ing goes, if you're one of us ... if you earn your living with your hands . . . Stephen {with a rather sad smile, looking at his hands, which are delicate and fair) : 1 don't . . . now. With a playfully mischievous smile. Vm a capitalist . . . now. Cowley : Hm. I thought you were getting at us. Stephen : If by * getting at ' you mean that I have any unfriendly motive, you're wrong. I did once earn my living with my hands, but I had a long illness. 1 was on my back for a year ; and in that long year I read a great deal, and I thought a great deal. Amongst other things I hit upon a little, simple device for common domestic use. Pause. 1 thought much of the relations existing between employer and em- ployed. That has led me since to attend many meetings in different parts of the country, and in other countries. That's how I came to be at your meeting this evening. When I was able to leave my bed, 1 wondered what 1 could do for a li^dng. The doctors said it would be a lon Stephen : I was in the workshop from a boy ; so I know the worker's side. When you're in bed for a year, you see things from many points of view. I learnt more in Australia. They sent me there . . . doctor's orders, and business combined . . . To BoB. That's how I met your son, Mr. Brandon. Bob : Yes, you must tell me presently. I want to hear about David. Stephen ; One way and another 1 got to know things from the employers' point of view, as well as our own. If 1 may say so, Mr. Smith, I think you're wrong. In this matter, as in all others, there are two sides to the question. My business takes me all over the country. I hear all 1 can. You said to-night, the meeting Wcis adjourned till next Monday. Robert : We v/ant some more figures ; they weren't all ready to-night. Stephen : Will you let me come on Monday, and speak to the men . . . put both sides as fairly as I can. Cowley : That's no good. If you want to get a move on, you've got to see one side, and only one side. That's how all big things have come about. Stephen : Sometimes big things have only come after lamentable havoc and destruction. TTie world should grow wiser. Misunderstand- ing in the past has untold misery to answer for. It's worth men's while to understand one another better. 24 THE PIPE OF PEACE Cowley : Yes, I dare say you mean all right. You called yourself a capitalist ; that was a joke, I suppose. Anyhow you've got into the way of seeing things from the point of view of capital. We don't want that at our meetings. We've no use for capitalists. Dr. W. : That isn't sense, Cowley; and you're too clever not to know it. Where there's industry, there's use for capital. Cowley : When it's needed, we'll find it. We don't %vant the kind o' capital that takes thirty or forty per cent. Stephen : Capital doesn't take thirty, or forty per cent. In isolated cases it may. It's not as though the capital of each enterprise were pro- vided by one individual, with no other interests. And it's not fair to assume that where it is, he is always grasping and unjust. In such cases, con- ditions of labour are often enlightened, and every encouragement is given to intelligent schemes for spending leisure pleasantly. Cowley : A trap. A blind. What's the result? In such places strikes are unheard of. Dr. W. : Is that very deplorable? Cowley : I don't want to argue. Capital's the curse of Labour. That's all there is to it. ! don't want any more arguments. Stephen : Arguments help, if they bring us nearer to truth. We can argue and differ, find still be good friends. Cowley : Well, you can argue. I'm going. He turns towards door left. THE PIPE OF PEACE 25 Alice : Don't go, Cowley, I don't want you to. I'm sure Mr. Cole likes to hear both sides; and I like to hear his, as well as yours. CoWLEY resumes his old position rather reluctantly. Stephen {rising) : 1 think it's I who ought to go. 1 hope you'll forgive me, Mr. Brandon, for coming unasked to your home, and talking so much. He says this Very pleasantly, With no trace oj resentment. Robert : No, no, don't go. Cowley's full of enthusiasm. But he only wants what all the rest of us want ... to make the best bargain we can for the men. Cowley (with a mild resentful outburst) : What is capital, when all's said? Capital doesn't make things. Stephen : It's one of the means without which things can't be made. It's easy (he sits again) not to think straight about capital. The source of capital is thrift . . . and capability. If we look for a self-respecting old age, and have any thought for our v/ives and children when Vv^e are gone, we must save. If we save, and want to make the most of our savings, we must invest. All the money can't be invested in trustee securi- ties ; they have no use for anything like all of it. So we put our money into industrial securities. Enormous sums that go to start industries don't pay a dividend for years, perhaps not at all. Sometimes you get twenty per cent., or more; sometimes you get nothing. Average it, and the investor doesn't get a big return for his money. 26 THE PIPE OF PEACE You can't say to a man who has got a few pounds, or a few thousands to invest : 'If this thing pros- pers, you get five per cent, of the profits, or a little more, and the rest will be divided among the workers ; if it fails, you lose your money, and there'll be nobody to pay you back a penny of it.' Bring that proposition to a man who has saved money by hard work, and he won't look at it. Dr. W. : You wouldn't yourself, would you, Cowley ? Cowley : Let the workmen manage the industries, and they'll pay all right. Stephen : 1 wish we could rely on that. All over the country there are men who began in the shops, saved money, and started for themselves. Some succeed, some fail. Bob : Look at Joe Kennedy . . . that's what he did. Bankrupt in three years . . . now he's back at the bench. Cowley : Look at John Wharton . . . that's how he started. Now he's worth a hundred thousand ... so they say. Stephen : Would he find money to start you in business, Mr. Smith, if he v^'^asn't to get a good share of the profits? Dr. W. : He's right, Cowley. Whoever finds capital must have a sporting chance. There must be prizes as well as blanks. Cowley : What about land and houses? That's capital, in another form. Stephen : I've nothing to say for the man who owns half-a-dozen big estates, with big mansions. THE PIPE OF PEACE 27 and leaves them empty ten months in the year. Sometimes they realize their responsibilities, but the system's wrong. It's got to go . . . it's going. Cowley : It is, neck and crop. Stephen : But the man with one big house, and land round it is quite another thing ; and the man who owns a few houses, and takes the rents is another thing. It's not so very long since it was one of the commonest wayst of investing savings. The limited liability company is com- paratively new. Cowley : Seems, according to you, the world's full of kind-hearted people who are mostly thinking how they can do their neighbours a good turn. To some of us it seems full of folk trying to pick one another's pockets. Stephen : A man once had two pairs of spec- tacles. Through one he saw a pleasant, kindly world ; through the other he saw nothing but selfishness and roguery. But it was the same world all the time. Of course, we are all fighting for ourselves to a point ; there's no harm in that, if we fight fair. There are scoundrels in plenty, and when we catch 'em, let's rap their knuckles hard : they deserve it. What's wrong with capital and labour is that both approach a differ- ence with an obstinate determination to have their own way. Cowley : It's just fine talk, and leads nowhere. Capital for generations has got the best of Labour,. 28 THE PIPE OF PEACE and it can't get out of the quarrel with clean hands. Robert : Cowley's right there, Mr. Cole. Stephen : I agree. Cowley : Oh, you do ! Stephen : Entirely. In the past Capital has a bad record. It paid too little, and got too much. Not in all cases, mind you. There are firms, generations old, that have little in their history to be ashamed of. But there is a black record. Cowley : Very well, then. Stephen : But things have been different, better in most respects, the last twenty years. Employers who are not willing to deal fairly with their men are not so many as they were. They admit wrong in the past, and are prepared to make amends. Bob: I'm with you there, sir; and, to my mind, there's nothing to be gained by for ever raking up old grievances. Robert : Father's right. Stand for what's just, and stand firm, I say. But you won't make a better bargain v/ith a man by abusing his father, and his grandfather. Cowley : Oh, that's all right. Stephen : We've a good deal in common, all of us, after all. Cowley : And a good deal of difference. Stephen {he rises, and shakes hands with BoB 4ind Robert) : Good night, Mr. Brandon. Good night, sir. I'm much obliged to you for giving THE PIPE OF PEACE 29 me so much of your time, and (laughing) letting me talk so much. Bob : Robert, why not ask Mr. Cole to come to the meeting next Monday. There can be no harm in the men hearing all sides. Robert : He's welcome, if he likes to come. Cowley : He can come to the meeting. Whether he speaks is for the men to say. It's their meeting, and they'll settle Vv-^ho they'll listen to. Robert : That's right. It's the men's meeting. Stephen : That's all 1 want. Thank you, Mr. Brandon. To the others. Good evening. Stephen goes out, by door left. Cowley (after a pause) : Look here, Robert, this is no good. Who is this chap, anyway? Why should he come to our meeting? What's he going to do between now and Monday ? Go to other factories . . . and unsettle the men . . . just making them wobble when what we want most is to make 'em stand solid ! TTiat's not leaving it to the men. We want no sort of inter- ference. Alice : Cowley, you really are funny. Three of the men who spoke at the meeting had never been in the place before. Why didn't you tell them not to interfere? Alan and Judy come in by door left. 30 THE PIPE OF PEACE Judy : Good evening, Doctor. Good evening, Cowley. To the others. Good evening. Dr. W. : Good evening, my dear. Alan : We've just come from Major Arm- strong's. He's had a telegram from London. It's decided. War is declared. Bob: War! There is silence for a few moments, while all realize the full force of Alan's news. Then Judy goes over to the chair right where STEPHEN has been sitting, and Alan goes over, and up to the right of the table to the back of his father's chair. Robert {slowly, and ajter another pause) : Are you sure ? Bob : War ! Alan : TTiere's no doubt. I'm afraid, none. Bob {ajter loo\ing at his sons, one ajter another) : It's a great . . . calamity, a terrible . . . misfortune. He is greatly affected. Alan quietly puts his hand on his jather's shoulder. Dr. W. : No, Bob, we won't say that. It's a grave responsibility. It would have been a calamity, if we had heard the call, and hadn't answered. Alan {ajter a short pause) : I met Arnold Pen- man. He was on his way to say good-bye to his mother. He's off by the six o'clock train in the morning to enlist. ' They've no use for me THE PIPE OF PEACE 31 here. Til try my luck out there. I'm for Eng- land,* he said. Cowley and Robert look at each other. The Doctor watches them for a moment. Dr. W. : Good luck to him ! Robert : Good for Arnold ! Bob : God bless him ! Alan (coming down to Judy) : This will change our plans, Judy. There's other things than holidays to think of now. Robert : And other things than differences at home. Dr. W. : 1 must look up my kit. Alice : Doctor ! You mustn't think of it. You're too . . . Dr. W. : Too old? Old, be hanged. 1 was in Africa in ninety-nine, within a month of the start. 1 know my job. Cowley {he looJ^s at his watch; then goes to pegs up lejt, and taJ^es his cap) : Walk down the road with me, Alice. She goes to him as he comes down lejt a little. She lool^s into his face, and sees determination there. She is frightened. He puts his arm round her, and l^isses her. It can't be helped, old girl. I'm for England, too. Cowley and Alice go out together by door left. Robert goes down in front of table to door left ; opens it, cind looks out for a moment. The 32 THE PIPE OF PEACE sound of distant shouts and cheering is heard. He closes the door. Alan and JUDY are right, she sitting, and he standing by her. Robert (as he closes the door) : Rough on little Alice. Bob has listened to CoWLEY and watched him and Alice together and as they went out. He is now watching ROBERT. He hears what he has just said, and looks from him to JUDY and Alan. Doctor West has risen, and is standing in front of the fireplace near BoB. BoB looks up at him, and pulls himself together. The DOCTOR takes out his pouch from his pocket, and fills up his pipe. Robert sits in chair left of table, very grave and thoughtful. Dr. W. {offering his pouch to Bob) : Fill up. Bob. Bob looks at him, but takes no notice of the ix)uch he is offering. Mechanically he takes his tobacco box from his pocket, and fills his pipe as he looks from ROBERT to AlaN. The DcCTOR has lighted his pipe, and gives the lighted match to Bob. Bob {as he takes the lighted match; almost inaudihly) : Thank you, Doctor. The Curtain Falls. THE PIPE OF PEACE 33 ACT II. The scene is a room in RoPERT BraNDON's house. Robert now fills a responsible position at the works. He has also become a man of importance in the little town, and has recently completed a year of office as Mayor. His house is a simple, but quite substantial one. There is a lighted fire on the right, a well- stocked bookcase in the centre of the back wall, and a door leading to a small hall down left. There are arm chairs above and below the fire, and another between them, a table in the centre of the room, with chairs at the back and at each end. There is another chair up left, and a small sofa above the door. It is a December evening in 1919. When the curtain rises, there is no one on the stage. Voices are heard outside the door left, mingling v/ith Robert's : 'Good night, Robert.' 'Good night, Mr. Brandon.' Good night, sir.' Robert (heard speaking in the hall) : Good night, William. Good night. Good night, Wilson. The street door is heard to shut. RoBERT comes into the room, and closes the door. He collects sheets of paper, and a newspaper from the table, round which they have been holding a meeting, and puts them in the drawer of the bookcase. This piece of furniture consists of a l)ookshelf, a drawer, and a cupboard combined. 34 THE PIPE OF PEACE He closes the drawer with a sigh of satisfaction. He takes a book from the bookshelf, sits in a com- fortable arm chair above the fire, and settles him- self, with evident pleasure, to read. After some moments the front door bell is heard. ROBERT remains seated until BoB and the DOCTOR come in. Bob is appreciably older, but serene and cheer- ful. The Doctor looks younger, in spite of the five intervening years. He has been doing fine work in France. Interest in his work, an active life, and the open air have made him more vigor- ous. Robert (rising) : Good evening. Doctor, Come and sit in the arm chair, father. Bob who has come in first goes over to arm chair above fire, and sits. Bob (as he goes to his chair) : You look tired, my boy. 1 suppose you've been working all day^ and half the night, as usual. Dr. W. (as he goes to arm chair below fire) : Yes, you obstinate, old contradiction . . . Bob : No, Doctor, Robert's not that . . . not obstinate . . . never was. Dr. W. : He's the most . . . Bob : No, 1 won't have it. He's . . . Robert (laughing) : You two, wrangling again. Dr. W. : I'm right. You are an obstinate old contradiction. You talk about men not working^ more thein forty -eight hours a week, or whatever THE PIPE OF PEACE 35 it is, and you do twelve hours a day yourself. May I smoke my pipe ? Robert : Why, of course. Dr. W. : Fill up, Bob. He offers his pouch. Bob look.s at him, gets pipe from his pocket, ta\es the Doctor's pouch, and fills. Robert holds a light for him, and he smokes. The DOCTOR takes back his pouch, and offers it to ROBERT. Robert : No, thank you. Doctor. As Dad used to say, I like a whiff o' flavour in mine. He puts down his book on the table, and fills his pipe jrom his tobacco jar. Dr. W. : All right. Stick to your shag. Bob's getting civilized. He's cultivated a taste in tobacco. He sits down, and lights his pipe. Bob : It isn't my taste. Doctor, it's my stomach. I've got to humour it now-a-days. Dr. W. : I see they've been at you again. We saw them leaving the house. Bob : Have they persuaded you to change your mind? Dr. W. : I hope so. You've been the best Mayor the town's had in my remembrance. There's no chance of Lawton going on. He's a sick man; he must go South for the Winter. You ought to take office again ; nineteen-twenty's going to be a difficult year. 1 hope they made you see that. Robert : Not quite. It's too big a thing to decide in a minute. I must think it out. Dr. W. : Then it's settled. You're sure to think straight, and see what's right. 36 THE PIPE OF PEACE Bob : I can't think as clear as I did. My first wish was you should get a rest from the work and worry. But the Doctor's right. There's diffi- cult, troublesome times before us. Robert : What '11 you have, father, after your walk? A drop o' whiskey, or . . . Bob : I'd sooner have a glass o' beer. It suits me best. Robert goes out. Bob : Can't keep this plaguey stuff alight. The Doctor lights a match and gives it to him. Not so bad, when it's fair started . . . the job is to start it. The DOCTOR laughs at him. Robert comes back with a brown earthenware jug of beer, and three glasses. He pours out a glass and gives it to BoB. Robert : What's yours, Doctor? Dr. W. : Whiskey. Just a thimble, and plenty of water. ROBERT gets a decanter of whiskey jrom the cupboard under the bookshelf, and pours out a glass jor the DOCTOR. There is a water bottle on the lower part oj the bookcase. The drawer and cupboard project in front of the bookcase and form a shelf. ROBERT then pours^ out a glass of beer for himself, and sits at the back of the table. Dr. W. : Stephen Cole walked into my place to-day. He's making another round. Do you remember him? THE PIPE OF PEACE 37 Robert : Well. I liked him. What beats me is how he ever managed to get into the army at all . . . much less stick it to the end. Dr. W. : Cole's one of the Medical Board's blessed mistakes. According to schedule he was clean outside the limit, and they ought to have been courtmartialled for potential manslaughter when they let him through. But he meant getting there . . . and he got there. And, by George, he did his bit. He's got a brain, that chap. I met him three or four times in France. Pause; he listens. There's your 'phone, Robert, Bob : Seems to be always going. 1 couldn't bear one o' them things in my house. Robert goes out. Bob {looking round to see ROBERT has gone, and that the door is shut) : I'm veiy proud o' Robert, Doctor. Dr. W. : You're right to be. Bob : But I'm anxious about him, too. Dr. W. : Works too hard? Bob : 'Tisn't only that. He always worked hard. When he was the only one at home, he worked harder than ever. Then, when poor Mr. Charles was killed at Hill 60, and old Mr. Car- dew was all there was left of the old firm and he asked Robert to take over the whole control of the workshops, he was at the factory day and night. And he had a worrying job, Doctor. He always did fair by the firm, but he never forgot 38 THE PIPE OF PEACE he was one o' the workers. They came first in his thought. Dr. W. : I'm sure they did. Bob : It isn't only the work, now. No matter how hard he was at it, Robert used to be content and happy. He isn't now. Dr. W. : He seems anxious at times . I've noticed that . . . but not unhappy. Bob : He could never quite bring himself to be patient about being sent home, when he hadn't been three months at the front, and told he'd never be fit to go back. Dr. W. : Rheumatic fever's a troublesome thing. A man has to be careful, after that, when he's in sight of forty years. Bob : I know. He had the sense to know it, too. But it troubled him. Then poor little David, that hit him badly ... it did us all . . . but now it's something . . . something not going as he wants ... 1 don't know justly what it is . . . and he frets about it. I know. I can see. Dr. W. : You're a queer old chap. Bob . . . God bless you ! You worry over these boys of yours, like a mother. Bob : It's twenty years, come Christmas, since they had a mother. Doctor. Dr. W. : I know. I know. Pause. Cheer- fully, making a fresh start. When does Alan move to his new job ? Bob : Next month. It's a great change. All his life among his own people ... to a great church, in a great city. THE PIPE OF PEACE 39 Dr. W. : He won't stop there either, all his life. He's for London before he's done. He'll have his name in the papers some day. Bob : God's been good to me. They've pros- pered, and all spared to me . . . but David. There are tears in his voice. Dr. W. : He made a good end, old friend ; there's that to be proud of. Bob : 1 know. 1 am proud of that, but . . . Robert comes back. He sits again in chair behind table. Robert: It's Cowley; they're just coming along. Dr, W. : He and Alice were busy in their gar- den, when 1 passed. They've done wonders . . . making quite a show. Bob : Alice didn't take much heed o' garden- ing, before she was married. Robert : It's Cowley's hobby. Alice has taken to it. Dr. W. : Wise wife ! He rises, and goes to the right top corner oj the table, and picks up the book Robert has placed there. He is standing a little to the right oj ROBERT. Fond of Gold- smith, Robert. You were reading him when 1 was here last week. Robert : Yes, 1 like him, he's restful. I've been feeling sometimes, lately, I'd like to take a stout stick, hitch on my bundle, and tramp through Europe, as he did. 40 THE PIPE OF PEACE Dr. W. {reading from a page oj the book ^i which, it is already open. ROBERT has placed it on the table, open, with the printed page next to the table) : * From Art more various are the blessings sent, Wealth, commerce, honour, liberty, con- tent; Yet these each other's powers so strong contest, That either seems destructive of the rest. Where wealth and freedom reign, content- ment fails. And honour sinks where commerce long prevails.' Is that your mark against the passage, Robert? Robert : Yes, a long time ago. It always puzzled me. I begin to understand it now. ' Where wealth and freedom reign, content- ment fails.' You got it when you read it. 1 suppose it means, we're never satisfied, or likely to be. Dr. W. : That's about it, Robert. He reads. * And honour sinks where commerce long prevails. ' It's often true; not always, thank God. Robert : No, not always; but often enough to be the explanation of industrial v/ar, three times out of five. Dr. W. : Oliver was a great chap for packing the heart of a truth in a phrase. There's two more lines worth remembering. They'd save a THE PIPE OF PEACE 41 lot of grousing. He turns over two pages and reads. ' For just experience tells, in every soil. That those who think must govern those that toil.' Robert : Yes, that's true, too. Dr. W. : Oh, he was a great chap. He puts down the book.. Robert : You gave me that Book, Doctor. Dr. W. : Idid? Bob : Yes, I remember that. It was in eighty- seven. Robert was twelve. He'd helped a bit, when half the men were down with fever, and there was a kind o' panic. They closed the works. Robert ran errands . . . did what he could to help. Dr. W. : He helped to save lives. 1 remembe r 1 remember. Cowley comes in. He looks extraordinary fit. Cowley : How are you, father? Good even- ing. Doctor. To Robert. Good evening. Bob : How are you, my boy? Robert : Glass of beer, Cowley ? Cowley : No, thank you. Robert puts whisky decanter into cupboard, beer jug, water bottle and glasses on to bookshelf. Bob and the DOCTOR have put their glasses on to mantel shelf. Dr. W. : Where's Alice? 42 THE PIPE OF PEACE Cowley : She ran into Mrs. Patten's. She's sick . . . quite sudden, I think. Dr. W. : Mrs. Patten? Cowley : Her girl's been ailing for a week ; now she's down. Dr. W. : I never knew. They didn't send word. I'd better go along. The Doctor goes out. Bob ; I'm afraid there's a deal o' sickness in the town. Robert : I'm afraid there is. Bob : Poor things ! It's the want o' proper food. They can't get it. How can they? Pause. Robert looks worried; CoWLEY very serious, but determined. CoWLEY sits in chair left of table. Cowley : Stephen Cole's in the town. Robert : So I hear. Cowley : He was talking to the men in the yard. Have you seen him? Robert : Not since nineteen fourteen. The Doctor says he met him in France : did wonders there, by all accounts. Cowley : That's right. He's a good chap. But we don't want him here. There's trouble enough before us, as it is. Robert : Seems, Cowley, these times, there's always trouble before us. Cowley : What line are you taking? We ought to know. The men won't go back till the masters give in. You know that. THE PIPE OF PEACE 43 Robert : Do you think war time wages can go on always ? Cowley : Why not? The heads of depart- ments are all on our side. Robert : I know. Cowley : You chose the men. You put them there. Robert : Yes, I know. Cowley : Tom Coppock's here, too. He might do a lot of good . . . stiffen the men. Robert : Tom gets about. Cowley : That's what he's paid for. Robert : He earns his money. Tom's got a way with him with the women in particular ... so they say. Cowley : What do you mean? Robert : The women have got something to do with it, haven't they? Tom knows it helps to have the women on his side. Cowley : The women are all right. Robert : Yes. Get 'em together, they're solid enough ; but they don't tell quite the same tale at home. Cowley : You don't understand 'em, Robert. You're not married. Bob : Robert's right. 1 hear things. Robert : I know Alice is firm enough ; taken to talking to the women herself, hasn't she? Cowley {after a pause) : Now and then. Robert : Speaking to-morrow, I hear. Cowley {surprised, but trying not to show ff) : Where? 44 THE PIPE OF PEACE Robert : Lower town, the girls' club. Tom's in the chair, isn't he? Thought you knew. Cowley : Something just settled, I suppose. Robert : Very likely. Bob : Judy was saying so, at tea time. Cowley, a little uneasy, gets up, walks up to the back on the left of the stage, then down to the lower end of the sofa, where he sits. Alan and Judy come in. Both look tired. Alan says ' Good evening.' JUDY nods to Robert and Cowley, and goes over to the fire, where she sits in the chair to the left of BoB. It is not an arm chair. Bob (looking at Judy) : You're tired, my dear. There is a moment's silence; then JUDY, after a struggle, buries her face in her hands and sobs. Pause. Don't cry, my dear, don't cry. What is it? Robert comes to her and puts his hand affectionately on her shoulder. Alan, who is up left, is watching. Alan : She's been with me on my rounds. She begged to come. She's been a great help. He crosses to the arm chair below the fire and sits. He touches JUDY affectionately as he passes her. Judy {taking Robert's hand, which is still on her shoulder) : Can nothing be done, Robert? It's five weeks since the strike began . . . and no sign of the end. The shops say they can't give credit any more. How can they? TTie THE PIPE OF PEACE 45 children are crying for food. The women are starving. They are wonderful . . . but they can't go on. Can nothing be done? Robert : It's very difficult, my dear. There's a meeting to-morrow. Please God, some good may come ot it. Judy : Try. Try. Everybody trusts you, Robert. Oh, 1 know they are obstinate, both sides . . . but try, Robert, try. Robert : 1 shall, my dear. Alice and Tom Coppock come in. Tom is twenty-six ; he is six feet high , with fair curly hair, and a fair moustache. He is a working man, but he is by far the handsomest man in the play, and the most distinguished in appearance. Alice is in a state of controlled, but intense excitement. There is something of hero worship in her look and manner, as she follows ToM with her eyes. ToM shakes hands with ROBERT, nods to the others, and sits at the top of the sofa, on Cowley's right. Robert goes back to his chair at the back of the table. CoWLEY has watched Tom and Alice as they came in ; and it is clear that he notes and is puzzled by Alice's interest in Tom. Alice has taken off her hat and placed it on chair up left. She goes behind table, and sits in chair right of table. Alice (to Cowley, as she goes to her chair) : Tom's been wonderful, Cowley. He's been from house to house all day till he went to the yeird to sp)eak to the men, and he's been to more houses 46 THE PIPE OF PEACE since. Twelve hours, and hardly given himself time for a bite and a cup of tea. CoWLEY looks a little uncomfortable as ALICE tells of ToM*S doings. Tom is also a little embarrassed and not pleased at Alice's praise. Cowley : I don't see the sense o' that. He looJ^s at Tom. Fighters must keep fit ... as he ought to know. We learnt that plain enough over there. Judy {slowly looking round at Tom) : Are you a fcinatic, Mr. Coppock? Tom: a fanatic? I, Mrs. Brandon? No. Judy : I thought, perhaps, you were. Tom : Why? Judy : What Alice said . . . about your food. She gets up and jaces the company. Do you know there are sick women starving . . , and pretending they get plenty to eat? — ^because they are too proud to tell the truth . . . afraid to do anything to make it more difficult for their men folk? Alice : And they're fine women, too . . . good luck to 'em. 1 wish I'd done as much. Judy : Yes, they are, fine. 1 honour them. But I pity them . . . and I want to punish the men who make them suffer so. Tom : Who are they, Mrs. Brandon? Judy : I don't know. I wish I did. Nobody seems to know. Tom : I know. THE PIPE OF PEACE 47 The front dcx)r bell rings. TTiere is a pause. Stephen Cole comes in. He shakes hands with the women, nods to the men on the sofa ; shcikes hands with ROBERT, and sits left of the table, on Robert's left. Cowley : Go on, Tom. Tell her, and tell him. He indicates STEPHEN. 1 don't think he's quite clear about it. Stephen: Clear about what? Alice : Judy was asking who are the men who've brought about this trouble. Why the women and children are starving. Stephen : The men are stetrving, too. Alice : Oh, I know. They don't shirk their shcure. Judy : But it's worse for the women . . . worst of all for the young mothers, and little children. Alice : Tell 'em, Tom. Tom : They don't want telling. It's clearer than sunlight. Everybody knows . . . but those who won't know. It's the rotten system every- thing in England's run on. He speaJ^s with intense conviction, and his earnestness grows as he goes on. It's the struggle to death between the few who get all the money, and the millions who do all the work. Cowley : That's right, and there's no answer to it. Stephen : Is it just as simple as all that? 48 THE PIPE OF PEACE Judy : If the world's unjust . . . it is in many ways . . . get new laws made. Tom : Damn the laws. They're not made by working men. Damn the laws, I say. TTiere's a shorter way than that. We shan't wait for new laws. Stephen : Damning the laws won't help us, Tom. A wise man once said : * The law is greater than the men who make it. TTie wisdom of the East, the genius of Athens, the modern sense of righteousness are in it.' The law changes, but its essence has lasted through cen- turies . . . and will last. Tom : That's lawyer's talk ; it's no good. We mean what we say, no less, and we're going to settle it. There's no time for more argument. There's too much fire under the pot. Stephen : And what are you doing towards settling it, Tom? What's your job? Did you help to lay the fire? — or did you set a match to it, and stir it up? Tom (He rises, angry, but, with an effort, he controls himself, and sits down again. He never, for a moment, loses his dignity) : I'm not going to be cross questioned by you. I say, damn the laws . . . and damn the cowards who hold back. Judy : We're guests here, Mr. Coppock. Let's pretend to be civilized. She sits down. Tom {rising again in anger) : I . . . Robert : That's all right, Judy, my dear. That's all right, Tom. Say what you like. ToM THE PIPE OF PEACE 49 sits again. You're like the rest of us, I suppose, you just want to do all you can to help the men ; and to find out the wisest way to set about it. Tom : Yes, I want to help the men. Cowley : We want fair play. We don't mean to do all the v/ork, and let others get all the plunder. Tom : Plunder . . . that's right . . . that's the word . . . plunder. Stephen : You want fair play. Everybody worth considering does. You're going to talk to the men to-morrow. You want fair play. Then, put the case fairly. Don't for a moment lose sight of the men's interests. Put your point of view. But tell them there are thousands of working men, men with brains as good as yours, vv^ho believe that you and your friends are doing a great injury to the working man, and not help- ing him. If you want fair play, put that to them very clearly ; you know the arguments on their side, as well as yours. And let the men decide for themselves. Tom : 1 knov/ what fair play is, and 1 don't want you to tell me. And 1 know what we mean to get . . . mean to get, mind you. And the men don't go back with less ... no less by a penny in pay ... no less by a line in condi- tions. Stephen : Then the other point of view doesn't interest you. Bob : Let Mr. Cole put the other point of view. I'd like to hear. 50 THE PIPE OF PEACE Tom : I came here to fetch Cowley, to settle things for to-morrow's meeting, not to be taught my job. He gets up, and moves towards the door. Alice : Let him say what he wants to say, Tom. Trust you to answer him back, and come out best. Tom sits reluctantly. Robert : There's no harm, Tom, in hcciring what any man has to say. It settles nothing, and binds nobody. Bob : Now, Mr. Cole. Judy : I'd like to hear, too, Mr. Cole. Stephen : Let's take wages first. It's no use telling us what people could get in a perfect world. It's not a perfect world ; it's just a good and bad world. And the wise man welcomes the good and makes the best of it ; and keeps a sharp look out for every chance to mend the bad. It's no use saying men and women would all be good, if the conditions were what they should be. It's the nature of men and women to be good and bad. It always has been so; I'm afraid it always will be. The useful thing is to see things as they are ; to face them squarely, and make the best of them. I don't mean put up with things as they are ; but mend them till they are as good as we can make them. That's true, right through ... of all economic questions, as of everything else. For instance, it's folly to forget that England's an island, and that there are many things we want badly that other countries can send us better than we can make THE PIPE OF PEACE 5\ them, or grow them. And it's no use forgetting that Britain is a great Empire. . . . Tom : It's got no right to be. Stephen : That may be. I don't contradict it; and I don't altogether admit it. Anyhow, there is the fact. Britain is a great Empire. And if you know anything of the people of the Empire ... all classes in all countries . . . you know it's just futile to expect that she will ever surren- der her place as a great Empire as long as she can hold on. Tom : When the voice of the people is heard everywhere, as it is already in some places, the countries that have grabbed the wealth of other countries, and made their workers slaves, will soon find that they can't hold on. Then there'll be freedom, freedom worth the name, every- where. Alan : We're learning, in these days, Mr. Coppock, that Empire can go hand in hand with freedom. Stephen : Freedom doesn't mean isolation. You want a working agreement with your neigh- bours in the street, and their goodwill, if you are to prosper, or even get the pleasant courtesies of life. Every country wants the goodwill of neigh- bour countries. That's truer of England than most, because it is an island ; we want the good- will of countries across the seas, or we shall go short of supplies. That's just a fact ; and there's nothing for it but to take it into account. 52 THE PIPE OF PEACE Tom : It's no use blithering about goodwill, when one man gets a thousand a week, and half- a-dozen houses, and another hasn't got a roof to cover him. Alice : Answer that, Mr. Cole, if you can. Cowley : He can't, nobody can ; there's no justice in it. Stephen : No. That's quite true. There is no justice in that; and, by now, the world has recognised that there is no justice in it. But it is just worth while to recognise the difficulty. You complain, because others have got what you haven't . . . something that, however they came by it, belongs to them. In principle it would be the same thing if a man with no coat, or with only one, complained of injustice because you've got three coats. Isn't it because of this underlying principle that to put things right is not the work of a day, or a year, or of ten? The point to grasp is that we are doing something towards it. You'll help nobody by going to the opposite extreme and telling men and women to expect equal wealth and prosperity ; unless you tell them at the same time that if they want to climb the ladder, they must have the grit and wit to climb better than their neighbours. Equal education, equal opportunity there ought to be ; fight for that for all you're worth . . . but, roughly speaking, even with equal chances the best men will get to the top of the ladder, and some of us must stand at the foot, and help to hold it up. Envy is the the vice of fools ; and THE PIPE OF PEACE 53 even failure has its compensations. The true wisdom is to help men to better themselves, and give up grousing for what they haven't got the wit to get. Cowley : We want fair pay for fair work. Stephen : If that's all you want, you ought to get it ; and you will. But you can't settle wages in England as if England were all the world. We must be able to compete with foreign markets ; we must be able to produce as well, and at the same price, as other countries. Tom : You don't seem to begin to know what we're after. We mean wages to go up every- where, in every country as well as England ; then there'll be no cutting in the markets, prices will level up, or down, everywhere, whatever the source of the article. Stephen : Ah, that's fine. If you can achieve that, you'll make a better world. But can you? It won't come yet. If a man's got more food than he can possibly eat growing within ten minutes of his back door, you'll generally find he's willing to accept a lower wage than the man whose din- ner comes thousands of miles from cattle ranches in Colorado. If a man's got more timber than he can ever use growing in his back garden, he can make cheaper boxes than the man who has to fetch his planks four thousand miles from Canada and Russia. You've got to go a long way, and wait a long time before you can per- suade everybody to forego the advantages of a fertile land, and a virgin soil. 54 THE PIPE OF PEACE Tom : That's it. We are going a long way ; and we are not going to wait a long time. Stephen : I wish you luck. But while you're squabbling over the way to get there, don't lead men into a blind alley. Tell them to stand out for a living wage, a good living wage, with a margin for the savings bank . . . there can be that, as things are now, for everybody ; but tell them to reckon with things as they are . . . tell them they must produce at the same cost as other countries . . . until you've changed the world. That means the maximum wage is beyond our control, and depends on the selling price in other countries. If you can produce a better article, you can demand your own price, within reason : but nobody is going to give you half-a-crown for what he can get for two shillings across the street. Judy : You wouldn't do that yourself, would you, Mr. Coppock? The telephone rings. Robert : See who it is, Alice. Alice goes out. Tom {after a pause) : We'll get on, Cowley. There's a good bit to do for the meeting to-mor- row. Good evening, Mr. Brandon. Good even- ing, Robert. Good evening. Tom and Cowley go out. Bob {after feeling in his pocket) : I want a match. Have you got one, Alan? AlaN is sit- ting deep in thought, and doesni notice. THE PIPE OF PEACE 55 Judy : Alan, dear, father wants a light. Alan {going to Bob) : I beg your pardon, father. He gives him a match-box jrom. his pocl^et. Bob relights his pipe. Bob : Thank you, my boy. To Judy. Thank you, my dear. Alice comes back. Alice : It's Doctor Wells. Mrs. Patten's very ill indeed. She'd like to see you, Alan. Alan : I'll go. I'll go at once. Judy : I'll come with you, dear. Alan and Judy go out. Alice {looking round}: Where's Tom? and Cowley ? Robert : They're gone, Alice. I expect you'll find them at home. Alice : Oh. Bob : I'll go home, too. To Alice. We can go together, my dear. Good night, Robert. Good night, Mr. Cole. Robert and Stephen : Good night. Alice has put on her hat. ShE and BoB go out. Robert and Stephen have risen. Robert goes to armchair above fire and sits. STEPHEN sits in armchair below fire. They light their pipes. For a moment they are silent. Stephen : You've had a difficult time, I can see. 56 THE pipe; OF PEACE Robert {after another pause) : Stephen, I think I'm the most unhappy man in the to^Arn. Stephen : You ! The first working man to be made Mayor ; the best, the most respected they ever had. Robert : I've done my best. I think they know that. Stephen : And a good best, too. Robert : No, Stephen. What I've done's made no difference. Nothing will make any difference, till a great change comes ; till ' Do to others as you have a right to expect they should do to you ' is the common standard of life. With- out good- will there's no hope. Stephen : 1 was afraid. I understand. Robert : You understand. But how many do? Stephen : So few get any chance of under- standing. They're never told. Men, some of them just enthusiasts without the vision to see v/here extravagance leads . . . some, vicious, with axes to grind, are in every comer of the country. Everybody hears them, but the men who have a real grip of the matter, and see to the heart of it, never speak at all, except in learned journals that the man in the street never hears of. Robert : I know. When I was Mayor I did what I could to induce the working man to take an intelligent interest, and do his share, in the business of the town ; just as at the works I have done all I could to get the men to organize and control their departments. 1 helj^ed them on to THE PIPE OF PEACE 57 the Council. I sent some of them to see at first hand the best and most advanced examples of civic government, in England, and abroad. It led nowhere. They're inflamed with tales, some true, some grossly exaggerated, of class injustice in the past. They will not realize that you can't undo the past, that the best that can be done is to mend and amend, and build on what can't be moved. Their attempts at control are, often, mere declarations of class war over again. It is so in the town affairs ; it is so at the works. They will not see that the good of the community is the good of every section of the community. The men 1 helped into power are the cause of the trouble in the works to-day. Stephen : It's the bicycle over again. ROBERT loo\s a question. I've always been of opinion that the greatest social influence of last century was the invention of the bicycle, especially in districts outside the great commercial centres. Fifty years ago it v/as an event for men and women in villages and small towns to go ten miles from their own front door. The bicycle came. Folk began to travel twenty, thirty, fifty miles. Foreigners, as they used to call them where 1 was bred, from forty, fifty miles became more and more frequent visitors. Before, a man hardly ever looked for a wife who hadn't been bom with- in sight, on a clear day, of his father's home. Now they began to marry girls who had been brought up in different environment, with little, queer differences in their views of life. Tradi- 58 THE PIPE OF PEACE tions were interchanged, and a wider outlook followed. But it was a slow, slow process. They only realized, at first, the pleasure of scorch- ing on the turnpike road, and seeing how many miles they could cover. It was a long time before they realized that the best of the new thing they had come by was the chance to see the beauty of the country, and to know their neighbours better. Robert : Yes, that's true. Smiling. 1 remem- ber father's first excursion on a fifty -two inch wheel, and the yarns he told us about it all. Stephen : The same thing's happening over again in a different way. The working man has access to power that thirty years ago only came to rare exceptions. But it's the bicycle over again. They're only enjoying the excitement, seeing how far they can go; not realizing the significance, much less the responsibility. Alan and Judy come in. Robert : How is Mrs. Patten? Did you see her, Alan? Alan : Yes . . . for a moment . . . the last. Robert : She's dead? Alan nods. It must have been very sudden. What was it? Alan ; Starvation. He sits at the bacl^ oj the table deeply moved. Judy : She starved herself to feed her sick child. The horror of it all. She is standing at the left end of the table. Alan : Homes sold up ! Women and chil- dren starving ! THE PIPE OF PEACE 59 Robert : And all . . . because masters are obstinate, and men wrangle for what they've no right to expect. I've worked for Labour all my life. I'm face to face with fact. With here and there exceptions Labour's not yet . . . fit . . . for authority. And Labour's best friends know it. TTiat's the tragedy. The Curtain Falls. ACT III. The scene is the same as in the last act. TTiere are some changes, such as five years may have brought about. There are some different books in the bookshelf ; there are two pictures which were not there before, one on each side of the bookcase. Other pictures are the same. Tlie chairs are differently arranged ; there are eirm chairs above and below the fireplace as before. There are chairs at each end of the table, and three at the back. It is May 24th, Empire Day, in 1924. Alan is sitting in the arm chair above the fire- place, reading a newspaper. Doctor Wells comes in. He looks older, but is still an active man. Alan : Have you been to the concert? 60 THE PIPE OF PEACE Dr. W. : Couldn't . . . had a troublesome case. Alan : I couldn't go either. Judy's a bit tired . . . the journey yesterday. Dr. W. : And you, too . . . after last night's shindy. You had a near shave. He sits in arm chair below fireplace. Alan : Coppock's exasperating. The men were furious. In ten minutes he'd have been in the canal. Dr. W. : He was a fool to come here again, after what happened two years ago. Where is he now? Alan : Here. Upstairs. Robert brought him here. He had to promise to keep out of sight till dark, and catch the night train to London. Dr. W. : He'll find kindred spirits there. Alan (smiling) : Oh, yes. There's a good many in my parish. And they're fine chaps . . . some of them. Dr. W. : They're a damned nuisance, and a mischief to the community. Alan : I know. But their day's gone by. They don't count for so much now. Alice comes in. She is nervous, and excited. Alice : Good evening. Dr. W. : Good evening, my dear. Alan : Good evening, Alice. He goes to her and shades hands. Alice : I want to find Tom Coppock. Pause. Do you know where he is? There is no answer; THE PIPE OF PEACE 6\ she looks jrom one to the other. Some people say he's gone away . . . some say he's hiding here. I can't find Robert. Do you know, Alan? Alan {he is standing in front oj the chair right oj the table; she is still near him. He speaks very quietly, and Very kindly) : Why do you want to know, AJice? Alice : 1 want to see him. They treated him shamefully last night. She sits in chair lejt of table. Alan : They were angry, and people generally do foolish things when they are angry. He sits right oj table. Dr. W. : He couldn't expect anything else. Alice : Why not ? He helped the men years ago. Why should they turn on him now? Dr. W. : They turned on him when they found him out. Alice : You're as bad as the men, Doctor. You're all against him . . . just because he's got more brains. Dr. W. (smiling) : He's a mischievous fellow, Alice. You needn't waste your sympathy on him. Alice (hotly) : 1 admire him. Alan (ajter a pause ; he looks at her) : Do you know why he left the town, suddenly, two years ago? Alice : No. Not the truth. I don't think anybody knew . . . except, perhaps, Robert, and two or three. I . . . think Cowley knew,. 62 THE PIPE OF PEACE but he won't talk about him. He gets angry, if I ask about Tom. Dr. W. : You ought to know, my dear. Tell her, Alan. Alan : Tom got into trouble at Liverpool. There was a very noisy meeting there. It led to his belongings being seized, and examined. Dr. W. : Then the whole story came out . . . though it was weeks before we heard the truth of it. Alice : What was the truth ? Alan : Tom was one of an organized party, working in all parts of the country. It wasn't Labour . . . the working man in England . . . they cared about. What they wanted was to up- set the whole social system of the country. Dr. W. : And plunder and murder were their acknowledged weapons. The funds were sup- plied by the most desperate groups in Europe. Alice {she turns to face the DOCTOR and Alan with her elbows on the table) : I don't believe a word of it. Alan : It's true, Alice, though, to do Tom justice, I don't think he quite realized the tools he was handling, or the source of the money he was paid with. Dr. W. : He ought to have known. With a •grain of common sense, he would. Alice : He had to take risks. He was never afraid of a fight. Alan : Our men were never afraid of a fight, Alice, an honest fight for the rights of Labour; THE PIPE OF PEACE 63 they've shown that more than once, and every- body respects them for it. But that's a very dif- ferent thing. There was a storm of indignation when the men found themselves associated with a crazy attempt at revolution. Dr. W. : If Coppock hadn't made tracks the night the news came through, he'd have been lucky to get off with his life. Alice is distressed and perplexed. She buries her face in her hands and there is a stifled sob. At this moment CoWLEY comes in. ALICE doesn't see him. He goes up left. Nobody takes any notice of him. There has been no sound at his entrance, or as he goes up to the back. Alice : What proof was there that . . . Tom knew. Even if what you say ... or part of it ... is true, I'm not going to turn against him. I want to find him and tell him so. Alan : Alice, 1 can't tell you all 1 know. In my work in London, 1 get strange confidences, sometimes. But you can take my word for it. You heard what the Doctor said. He doesn't know the worst. Alice {defiant, and a little hysterical} : 1 don't care. 1 want proof. Tom's down, and the men want to kick him. Scornjully. It's just because he's got more brains, and better looks than they have. Cowley (struggling with passion, which he completely masters, he comes down on the left of 64 THE PIPE OF PEACE Alice) : Alice, my girl, I think . . . Alan wouldn't deceive you. He wouldn't say what he did, if he didn't know it was true. At the sound of Cowley's voice, Alice has looked round. She is startled, and an impulse to cry out ends in a stifled ' Oh/ Who . . . who's with the children, Alice? They're so little. 1 don't like them to be left. He has been very gentle and tender; he holds out his hand. I'm going home. Will you come? Alice : I ... 1 didn't see you, Cowley. She goes to him. She is a little hysterical, hut controls herself, and speaks quietly. Is it true, Cowley? Did they really plan to ... do the horrible things they say . . . some of them ? Cowley doesn't answer; she turns to Alan. Alan : Yes, Alice, it's true. I'm sorry, but it is. Alice {she is convinced, and is stupified by the conviction) : Cowley, 1 . . . I've . . . been . . . Yes . . . yes, Cowley, the children. I didn't know it was so late. I'll come with you. Good night. Doctor. Good night, Alan. Alan : Good night, Alice. Dr. W. : Good night, my dear. Cowley and Alice go out. Alan {he goes back, io ^^^ ^^^^ chair above the fireplace, and sits. After a pause) : I think she understands at last. Cowley's splendid. Dr. W. : Always was. I brought him into the world, Alan. I'm very fond of Cowley. THE PIPE OF PEACE 65 Robert and Tom come in. They are heard speaking before they are seen. Robert (as they come in) : Did they get you some supper? Tom : Yes . . . thank you. Robert : Sorry I couldn't be in. I had to go to the concert. It's an institution with us on Empire Day. Pause. Can you hear them? They hsten for a few moments to the choir sing- ing in the hall near by. They are looking out as through a window in the fourth wall. It is not necessary for the audience to hear the singing. We've got a fine chojr now. He smiles, remem- bering. You were here on Empire Day in twenty- two. Tom : Yes, that's right. Dr. W. (with a little grunt) : Hm. At the end the band played ' The King.' When the people stood up, and joined in, you, and a few near you, sat tight, and scowled. Robert (laughing) : 1 didn't remember that. He goes round the right end of the table, and sits behind it in the centre chair. Tom : Why not? If you've got no use for Kings. He sits at the right of the table. Dr. W. : They'll play ' The King ' again to- night ; and every man Jack will stand up and join in. Tom : Let 'em, if they like all the humbug of Courts . . . with millions wasted that might feed starving men. 66 THE PIPE OF PEACE Dr. W. : That's bosh, and you know it. Re- publics can spend as much as any on State func- tions. And they do it, because they know it pays. And you know quite well that if they didn't spend one penny on the amenities of the Court, and Government hospitality, the money saved could make no difference to starving men. Robert : You know it wouldn't, Tom. Tom : Perhaps not . . . just a drop in the ocean . . . that's true. Robert : You know as well as I do that the remedy for starvation is not more money spent on unemployment pay, but peace and good-will in the labour world, and efficiency amongst those who get left without work. There wouldn't be much unemployment then. Tom : I daresay there's something in that. Dr. W. : There's everything in it. The fact is I'm beginning to think you don't believe your- self in all you say. Robert (laughing at Tom very lightly and good-humouredly) : Not half of it, eh, Tom? Tom {also smiling) : You're a sport, Robert. I don't mind telling you I'm a bit fed up. When I took on this job I thought it was a clean straight thing, a genuine move by working men to get what's just. The first time I found out what the game really was, and where the money came from, it shook me pretty badly. My first thought was to clear out. But, I tell you, it's a nasty net to get tangled in, and they've got ways to keep you there. I had to stick it, or . . . it's no use THE PIPE OF PEACE 67 going into that. Last night I tried . . . well, they wouldn't hear me, or . . . But it's no odds any way. Dr. W. : For all your doubts, you're as pat as ever with the old stock remedies to mend a sick world ; and the old stock catch words. Tom (laughing a little) : Once you get the trick o' the lingo, start talking, and it comes of itself ; you can't help yourself . . . you can't get out of the way of it. The DOCTOR, ROBERT and Alan laugh a little very pleasantly. ToM looks jrom one to the other. Here, look here ! Don't you make any mistake . . . don't you think 1 mean . . . more than I do. Alan : At any rate, you can give some good advice to your friends. Tell them to confine their activities to their own countries, and send no more emissaries here. They'll get rough-handled if they're caught. And you can tell them that the workers of England are loyal to the monarchy because they're very sure of a great truth. The best form of government for any country is the form that inspires general confidence, and recog- nition of right authority. For different countries, different customs. For England it's constitu- tional monarchy. Dr. W. : And that means true democracy. Tom : It keeps capital safe, anyway ; and that's the cause of all the trouble. Robert : You're wrong, Tom. True demo- cracy is the death of class tyranny . . . whatever class. 68 THE PIPE OF PEACE Alan : Tell your friends something else. We don't think quite the same of capital as you do, or as some here did ten years ago. Here at the works all the men and women over twenty can be capitalists themselves, if they like. A fair part of the profits every year, with an agreed contribu- tion by the workers, is turned into new capital ; and, if they want to, and fulfil the conditions, they can all be shareholders. Tom {smiling) : The old trick. Set the men looking for dividends, and they'll be fooled into cutting their own wages to swell the profits. Dr. W. : My friend, you're out of date . . . years behind the times. Your way of thinking's all very well where the savage tyranny of so- called equality makes slaves of everybody but the men in power. It won't do here. Robert : That's so, Tom. A trade union to- day isn't what it was in nineteen-fourteen, or in nineteen-nineteen. It's a different thing, and a better thing. Every trades unionist to-day knows it depends on himself to rise to a better job, because every member is a competent workman. Tom : It's the incompetent want protection most. Robert : That's true, and they get it in a dif- ferent way. But the proportion of unemploy- ment which in many cases . . . God forbid I should say all . . . is the result of incompetence, is as one to five to what it was in nineteen-four- teen, ten years ago ; and nearer one to ten to what it was in twenty-one, three years ago. You can't THE PIPE OF PEACE 69 altogether ignore statistics . . . that's one of the things you learn on the platform. Dr. W. (chuckling) : They explain 'em away ; and they're very artful at the job. Alan : We'll look after the incompetent, if it isn't their own fault. Robert : But the idler no longer gets the same advantage as the honest worker and the skilled. Tom : So you say. Robert : How long have you been away ? Tom : Two years . . . about. Robert : More's happened than you realize in two years. In the best controlled unions to-day no man is admitted to full membership till he has shown he can do a fair day's work. And if he does the work, the union sees he gets a fair day's wage. It's the same with the women, of course. There's a corresponding rule in all the best em- ployers' associations. They won't have a man who doesn't understand his trade, and deal honestly by all, his men as well as his fellow em- ployers. And there isn't a strike or a lock-out every time there's a difference. We don't keep the world waiting while we stand off and bicker. We have realized the full advantage of arbitration, properly safeguarded. And we want your friends to come to their senses, to make progress, and profit by it, as we have. Tom : Don't worry about my friends. We see what's right, and what's wrong, and we go for it. Robert : That's just what none of us can do. No man can see right and wrong quite clearly 70 THE PIPE OF PEACE when his own interest's involved. We've learnt that, too. There's a custom, not general as yet, but likely to be so before long, that has helped a lot. If a union has a quarrel that may lead to a strike, three other unions v/ith entirely different interests debate it at a club meeting. They take a vote, and the result is published. Tom : Interference ; they should mind their own business. Robert : No. No union is in any sense bound by the result ; but it has developed a great sense of justice. It is welcomed as an expression of disinterested opinion. Cowley comes in. He is in a white-hot pas- sion, and goes straight to ToM. He has to make a great effort to control himself. Cowley (quietly, but in stern anger) : You sent a letter to Arthur Stanley. Tom lool^s up, puz- zled, hut has no chance to speak' CoWLEY goes straight on. When's he going, Robert? He goes to the lower left end oj the table. Robert : Eleven-forty from the junction. Cowley : Right. There's three of us going Virith you, Coppock ; and, if you speak to meoi or woman on the way, by God, you won't forget to- night. Tom (sullenly) : What have 1 done now? Cowley (speaking quietly, in intense anger, but very clearly and calmly) : It took years to realize what you, and others like you, have done. You took away men's reason, and started them THE PIPE OF PEACE 71 on a mad f 001*8 quest. The unions were fighting for the men, and you set them shouting for what they couldn't get, and that beat 'em. They took yeeirs to recover their strength. I was one of the damned fools who listened to you once. I know- better now. You stirred up class hatred and dis- trust, and, while it lasted, both sides went under. We're wiser now. Clear out of this to-night, and don't come back . . .or, next time, we'll set about you in earnest. Alan : He's going, Cowley. There's no need for violence. Cowley : You don't know, Alan. They're trying to get at Arthur Stanley. They've offered him big money to go to Liverpool. They know the boy's wild in thought, and thinks it fine to make himself a martyr for what he calls * the cause.' Damn you ! The boy isn't twenty, and when his mind's not muddled by will-o'-the- wisps you dangle before him he's the best and straightest lad among us. You know that, Robert ... so does Alice. They sent him a letter. Here it is. He ta\es an envelope from his pocl^et, and jrom it a letter torn in fragments. He throws them in Tom's face. ToM puts his hand on the hack, oj his chair, about to rise in a great passion, Alan comes to him, and puts his hand firmly on his arm. ToM controls him- self, and sits still, looking fiercely at CoWLEY. Alan goes hack to his chair. If Alice and 1 hadn't seen Arthur to-night, he'd have gone ; and, likely as not, got shot in a street brawl before 72 THE PIPE OF PEACE the year's out. But we'll leave nothing to chance. You don't get at him again. You don't go out of my sight till the train leaves the station. Tom : You've lost your temper, Cowley ; and when a man loses his temper, it's waste o' words to reason with him. You can believe me or not, as you like. I don't care which. I've never seen Arthur Stanley. 1 know nothing about him. They've got their own ways of finding new men. Cowley : They knew you were here . . . they sent him the letter the same day. Tom {very firmly) : The letter's nothing to do with me, 1 tell you, or with my being here. They don't know at head-quarters where I am. Cowley (losing control) : A lie ! The boy was trying to find you. Tom [rising; fiercely) : 1 know nothing about it, I tell you. CoWLEY comes to him in a threa- tening attitude; they face each other, and, for a jew moments, they look, lik^ coming to blows. Alan {gently, hut very firmly) : Cowley, sit down. After a moment CowLEY does so reluc- tantly. He sits in chair behind table on ROBERT'S left. Sit down, Tom. After a pause, ToM sits at the left end of the table. No good quarrelling. Tom's done many things, but 1 never doubted his word. Tom says he doesn't know Arthur . . . or anything about it. Robert : That's good enough for me. THE PIPE OF PEACE 73 Tom {after looking * Thanks ' to ROBERT.): Never heard of him. He's nothing to me . . . except . . . well. He seems a good sort . . . and, you're right. He'd better stop at home. Alan (smiling) : You see. He sits in chair right oj table. He is filling his pipe. Give up your visionary friends, Tom, and put your influ- ence in the scale of progress . . . and order. Robert : He could do a lot for the men. Dr. W. : It's a wise saying 'Old enemies make good friends.' I've heard Bob say so scores of times. He comes and sits behind table, right oj Robert. He is filling his pipe. After a moment's pause; to ToM. Alan comes from London . . . and a queer comer of London, at that. He sees a good deal of your lot. He has passed his pouch to ROBERT, who looks at the tobacco, hesitates, then fills his pipe. Robert (to Tom) : It's good advice he's giving you. Dr. W. (watching RoBERT; with a little chortle) : Ha . . .ha. ROBERT catches his eye, smiles, and hands back ^^^ pouch. The DOCTOR hands it to CowLEY, who smells it, and, without a movement of his eye or head, hands it back to the Doctor, who smiles. Tom has been watch- ing this, and, after a moment's hesitation, takes a tobacco box from his pocket, and hands it to Cowley. Cowley hesitates a moment, then tak^s it and fills his pipe. ToM takes a pipe already half filled from his pocket. 74 THE PIPE OF PEACE Cowley {as he hands back the box; a little shyly) : Sorry, Tom. ToM and CoWLEY light up. The others have already done so. All are smoking. Tom {looking round; laughing lightly) : Well, Vm . . . Dr. W. {blowing out a column oj smoke) : ' I have known , . . foiir-and-twenty leaders of revolt.' Alan and Robert smile. Tom takes it quite good-humouredly. CoWLEY is steadily smoking. Tom (he looks at his watch) : Well, good luck ! You won't see me for a time. Cowley, look after Arthur Stanley. Looking from CoWLEY to Robert. So it seems you're getting what you want , . . your own way. I dare say that's best. But . . . when things are straight all round . . . may be, you'll find we helped . . . a little. The Curtain Falls. tJEP 1 192J LIBRARY OF CONGRESS ,1 !l ill h; III 014 676 909 3