The Corn Is Green Page #2

you're ready. - All right, m'am.

I knew I wasn't wrong in coming here.

Somehow this place has something

so exactly right about it.

These will be friendly for your room.

That was nicely phrased, Mr. Jones.

I'd heard that you Welshmen

had no sentiment.

Like all other people,

the Welsh too can see beauty.

Of course they can. I promise

I shan't make the same mistake again.

Tell me, Mr. Jones.

- Does this barn belong to the property?

- No, Miss Moffat.

- Is it in use now?

- No, m'am.

Splendid.

- What's that singing?

- Boys coming home from the mine.

Boys you say?

You can see them in a minute

coming over the bridge.

I should like to.

I should like very much

to look at children

who can sing after a day's work

in the coal mine.

They burst into song on the slightest

provocation. You mustn't take any notice.

Tell me, Mr. Jones.

Within a radius of 5 miles, how many

families are there around here?

About 40 families in the village

and 15 in the farms around.

- Many children?

- What age?

Up to 16 and 17.

Around here they are only children

until they are 12.

Then they are sent away to the mines

and in one week they're old men.

I see.

How many can read and write?

Next to none.

Next to none.

I wonder who started the ridiculous rumor

that this was a civilized world.

Well, since it's the only world

we have to live in,

I suppose we have

to make the best of it.

Too easy, Mr. Jones.

Much too soft and easy.

When I was a young girl I looked the world

into the eye and I decided I didn't like it.

I saw poverty and disease,

ignorance and injustice.

And in a small way, I've always done

what I could to fight them.

So now that I've had the good

fortune to come into this house

and a little money, what could I do

better than to continue to fight them?

Especially with you two to help me.

Would you please put

these in water?

- I?

- Yes, you, Miss Ronberry.

Sit down, won't you?

I used to meet friends of yours

at lectures in London.

You live alone.

You have just enough money.

You're not badly educated.

And time lies heavy on your hands.

Isn't that so?

Not at all.

When the proper gentleman appears...

Oh, no, Miss Ronberry. If you're

a spinster well on in her thirties,

he's lost his way and isn't coming.

Why don't you face the fact

and enjoy life the way I do?

When did you give up hope?

Oh, what a horrid expression.

I can't recall ever having

had any hope.

Visitors used to take a long look

at my figure and say:

"she's going to be the clever one. "

But a woman's only future is to marry

and fulfil the duties.

Nonsense.

I'd have made a shocking wife anyway.

But haven't you ever been in love?

I have never talked to a man

for more than 5 minutes in my life

without wanting to box his ears.

Which brings me to you, Mr. Jones.

My conscience is as clear as the snow.

I'm sure it is.

But I've inquired about you too.

Your father was a grocer with just enough

money to send you to grammar school.

With the result that you're educated

beyond your sphere

and yet failed to qualify

for the upper classes.

You feel frustrated

and fall back on being saved.

Am I right?

It is such a terrible thing

you have said that...

- I will have to think it over.

-Do.

In the meantime, would you two like to

stop moping and be very useful to me?

- Useful?

- Yes.

I'm going to start a school.

A school? What for?

What for? You see these books?

Hundreds of them.

And something wonderful

to read in each and every one.

These nippers are to be cut off

from that forever, are they? Why?

Just because they happen to be born

penniless in an uncivilized country?

- You're right.

- The ordinary children, you mean?

Yes, my dear. The ordinary children

who came into the world by exactly

the same process as you and I.

But I couldn't teach those children.

I couldn't. They... they smell.

If we'd never been

taught to wash, so would we.

We'll put them under the pump.

But I have an enormous house to run.

And all the flowers to do.

We'll shut it up except for one room

and let the flowers die a natural death.

Mr. Jones, I want you too.

I'm a solicitor's clerk at Gwaenygam

and I earn 33 shillings per week.

I'll give you 34.

And your lunch.

But those children are in the mine

earning money.

I'll pay their parents the

few miserable pennies they get out of it.

And when I'm finished with you,

you won't have time to worry

about snapping up a husband...

and you won't have time

to be so pleased you're saved.

Well?

I do not care if you are not Chapel.

I am with you.

Come in.

Come on.

You're here again?

Be mai'n ddeud?

I said, you here again?

No, Miss.

What d'you mean, no Miss?

- We isn't here "again", Miss.

- What are you then?

We isn't the same lot

which comes in the morning.

We's the lot

which comes in the evenings

Well, even after six weeks

you all look the same to me.

- Mam!

- Yes?

Some more for ya.

Wait there, boys, and mind

you don't blacken the furniture.

- Good evening, Mr. Jones.

- Good evening, sir.

Good evening, boys.

I seen you and the lady teacher

behind the door.

You wait till you see Miss Moffat.

She will give you what for.

You wait till you see Miss Moffat.

She will give you what for.

- Miss Ronberry.

- Yes, Mr. Jones.

These children are so careless.

- Where's Miss Moffat?

- In her room, I think.

Sarah Pugh gave me this letter for her.

It's the one she's been waiting for.

I'll take it to her imediately.

Shall we wait, Miss Ronnyberry?

Miss Moffat will be with you

in a minute.

From the management of the mine.

Thank you.

The solicitors of the mineowners

politely but firmly advises me

no children working in the mine

can be released above ground.

How horrid!

Surely there must be some way.

They underestimate us.

I'll have to keep you waiting.

I must attend to errands in the village.

In the meantime, would you go

to the well in the garden

and scrub your hands and faces.

Through there.

Please, Miss. Can I have a kiss?

What did you say?

Please, Miss. Can I have a kiss?

Of course you can.

Could I oblige anybody else?

- Mr. Jones.

- Yes, Miss Moffat.

After they have washed themselves

you'd better occupy them with something.

- Ask them to write a composition.

- Any particular subject?

How I would spend my holiday.

- It's always reliable.

- Yes, mam.

Thank you.

- Come, Miss Ronberry.

- Yes, Miss Moffat.

Please, Miss.

Can I have a smacked bottom?

How horrifying.

- Mr. Jones, would you like a sweetie?

- No, thank you, my little dear.

- Have you had another walk?

- Yes, Mr. Jones.

- All by myself.

- Did you see anybody?

Only a lady and gentleman in the lane.

But mother told me never to look.

Why are you holding

your hair like that?

These are my curls.

Do you think it's nice?

It is nice but it is wrong.

I've been curling each one

round my finger and holding it tight

until it's all right.

My fingers are aching

something terrible.

- Mr. Jones.

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