He is dressed like a Bowery tough. His
face is blackened with burnt cork. His hair is of a brilliant red.
He wears an engineer's silk cap with visor. To HARRY he passes a
half-filled canvas bag. On his shoulder he carries another. On
entering he slips and falls forward on the floor).
HATCH:
Confound you!
HARRY:
Hush, you fool.
HATCH:
Has he broken anything?
REDDY:
(on floor, rubbing his head)
I've broke my head.
HATCH:
That's no loss. Has he smashed that silver?
HARRY:
(feeling in bag)
It feels all right.
(HATCH cautiously parts curtains at centre and exits into hall.)
REDDY:
(lifts bag)
We got enough stuff in this bag already without wasting time on
ANOTHER house.
HARRY:
Wasting time! Time's money in THIS house. Look at this silver.
That's the beauty of working the night AFTER Christmas; everybodys'
presents is lying about loose, and everybody's too tired
celebrating to keep awake.
(Lifts silver loving cup)
Look at that cup!
REDDY:
I'd rather look at a cup of coffee.
HARRY:
(Contemptuously)
Ah, you!
REDDY:
Well, I can't make a meal out of silver ice pitchers, can I? I've
been through three refrigerators tonight, and nothing in any of em
but bottles of MILK! MILK!
HARRY:
Get up, get up, get to work.
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