George Bernard Shaw a penn State Electronic Classics Series Publication

to the other pillar].
THE FLOWER GIRL 
[disappointed, but thinking three
halfpence better than nothing] Thank you, sir.
THE BYSTANDER 
[to the girl] You be careful: give him a
flower for it. There’s a bloke here behind taking down every
blessed word you’re saying. [All turn to the man who is taking
notes].
THE FLOWER GIRL 
[springing up terrified] I ain’t done
nothing wrong by speaking to the gentleman. I’ve a right to
sell flowers if I keep off the kerb. [Hysterically] I’m a respect-
able girl: so help me, I never spoke to him except to ask him
to buy a flower off me. [General hubbub, mostly sympathetic
to the flower girl, but deprecating her excessive sensibility. Cries
of Don’t start hollerin. Who’s hurting you? Nobody’s going to
touch you. What’s the good of fussing? Steady on. Easy, easy, etc.,
come from the elderly staid spectators, who pat her comfortingly.
Less patient ones bid her shut her head, or ask her roughly what
is wrong with her. A remoter group, not knowing what the matter
is, crowd in and increase the noise with question and answer:
What’s the row? What she do? Where is he? A tec taking her
down. What! him? Yes: him over there: Took money off the gentle-
man, etc. The flower girl, distraught and mobbed, breaks through
them to the gentleman, crying mildly] Oh, sir, don’t let him
charge me. You dunno what it means to me. They’ll take
away my character and drive me on the streets for speaking
to gentlemen. They—
THE NOTE TAKER 
[coming forward on her right, the rest
crowding after him] There, there, there, there! Who’s hurting
you, you silly girl? What do you take me for?
THE BYSTANDER
. It’s all right: he’s a gentleman: look at
his boots. [Explaining to the note taker] She thought you was
a copper’s nark, sir.
THE NOTE TAKER 
[with quick interest] What’s a copper’s
nark?
THE BYSTANDER 
[inept at definition] It’s a—well, it’s a
copper’s nark, as you might say. What else would you call it?
A sort of informer.
THE FLOWER GIRL 
[still hysterical] I take my Bible oath
I never said a word—

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12
Pygmalion
THE NOTE TAKER 
[overbearing but good-humored] Oh,
shut up, shut up. Do I look like a policeman?
THE FLOWER GIRL 
[far from reassured] Then what did
you take down my words for? How do I know whether you
took me down right? You just show me what you’ve wrote
about me. [The note taker opens his book and holds it steadily
under her nose, though the pressure of the mob trying to read it
over his shoulders would upset a weaker man]. What’s that?
That ain’t proper writing. I can’t read that.
THE NOTE TAKER
. I can. [Reads, reproducing her pronun-
ciation exactly] “Cheer ap, Keptin; n’ haw ya flahr orf a pore
gel.”
THE FLOWER GIRL 
[much  distressed] It’s because I called
him Captain. I meant no harm. [To the gentleman] Oh, sir,
don’t let him lay a charge agen me for a word like that. You—
THE GENTLEMAN
. Charge! I make no charge. [To the
note taker] Really, sir, if you are a detective, you need not
begin protecting me against molestation by young women
until I ask you. Anybody could see that the girl meant no
harm.
THE BYSTANDERS GENERALLY 
[demonstrating against
police espionage] Course they could. What business is it of yours?
You mind your own affairs. He wants promotion, he does.
Taking down people’s words! Girl never said a word to him.
What harm if she did? Nice thing a girl can’t shelter from the
rain without being insulted, etc., etc., etc. [She is conducted by