Chapter XVII: Part 17

HELMS. This will make seventeen.

KRAKAU. [_Wraps a coin in a bit of paper._] I just want to make sure you've got it right. You always argue about it afterwards.

HELMS. Hmm!

KRAKAU. [_Opens the window, throws out the coin. The music plays more vigorously, then suddenly stops._] The porter is chasing him away.... I suppose it's because Larsen is sick downstairs.

HELMS [_laughs angrily_]. Huh! You were in an awful hurry about throwing that money down, weren't you? Well, I won't pay you for that.

KRAKAU [_hastily closing the window_]. What kind of a way is that?

HELMS. You should have waited until he'd played a few tunes.

KRAKAU. How was I going to know the porter would chase him away?

HELMS. That's your lookout. You should have waited, then you would have seen, I won't pay you back.

KRAKAU. You're a damned old swindler, Helms, and you always were. [_Turns away and pulls out his pipe._]

HELMS [_sees the pipe_]. I can't bear tobacco smoke to-day; my throat's too bad.

KRAKAU. Let me tell you something; I take no orders from you.

HELMS. I'll complain to the superintendent. Smoke hurts my throat, and you know it.

KRAKAU. Huh! Won't you complain to your postal clerk son-in-law, too?

HELMS. No, but I'll tell Knut when he comes. I don't see why I let you be his godfather anyway. They wanted some one else, but I said: "No, let's ask Krakau; it will please him." I was a fool.

KRAKAU. You asked me because you knew I'd give him a handsome present. Old miser that you are!

HELMS. But you've always been jealous because I am his grandfather while you are only his godfather.

KRAKAU. So--!

HELMS [_furious_]. Don't you dare to smoke, do you hear!

KRAKAU. Who's smoking? [_Puts the pipe back in his pocket._]

HELMS. You needn't pretend you are not jealous. Why, when my daughter was alive and came to visit me here you used to crawl over to your own side and hide your envious face.

KRAKAU. She didn't come to see me.

HELMS. Well, you might at least have been polite.... But you were always a false friend. You never forgave me for having a wife and family while you were a lonely old bachelor.

KRAKAU. So--e!

HELMS. Don't make that nasty noise! It's true; you know it's true. To this day I remember how angry you were when Andrea was born. For two years you didn't set foot in my house. You said you couldn't bear children about.... But if she had been your own child--

KRAKAU. Can't you talk about anything else?

HELMS. And you wouldn't come to my wife's funeral either. I shall never forgive you that, Krakau,--the wife of your best friend--and now you want to smoke though you know I have a weak throat.

KRAKAU. Why will you talk like an idiot? Don't you see the pipe is in my pocket.

HELMS. Well, you were going to smoke, weren't you? And there's another thing: It never occurred to you to congratulate me when I told you my son-in-law had been made a postal clerk.

KRAKAU [_ironically_]. I do congratulate you. But you needn't be so stuck up about it. He's not the only postal inspector in the world.

HELMS. Who's stuck up? Not a bit of it! I was thinking of Knut. He'll be better provided for now his father has a good position. Isn't it natural for me to think of Knut's welfare? I am his grandfather.

KRAKAU. So--o?

HELMS. There you go again with your So--o! My daughter's son is my grandson. Any fool knows that.

KRAKAU. Many a fool has believed he was a daughter's father--and wasn't.

HELMS. What's that? My daughter...? You are an idiot.

KRAKAU. Do you remember what happened to Adam Harbee?

HELMS. That has nothing to do with the case. My wife was not that sort of a woman. You'll concede that.

KRAKAU. Ye-es.

HELMS. Well, then--but what can an innocent old bachelor like you know of such things.

KRAKAU. Are you going to talk stuck up again, Helms?

HELMS. Sure I will: I am too stuck up to let an ignorant bachelor like you teach me what's what about married life. What do you know about it? Virgin!

KRAKAU [_infuriated_]. I'll tell you what I know about it. You are not Andrea's father at all.

HELMS [_laughs incredulously_]. Ain't I? Well, if I may take the liberty to ask, who is her father?

KRAKAU. That's all right. We'll not talk about it any more.

HELMS. Oh yes, we will! Who is her father, if I am not?

KRAKAU. That's all right.

HELMS. Just empty talk, eh? I might have known it. You just say such things because I owe you seventeen pfennig.

KRAKAU. Twenty-seven! I laid out ten for cake last Friday.

HELMS. Twenty-seven, then. And that's why you make up these stories to annoy me.

KRAKAU.. Have it your way.

HELMS [_whimpering_]. Why don't you speak out, then? If I am not Andrea's father, who is? You can't leave it like this. Who is the man you accuse, eh? Was it Axel?

KRAKAU [_scornfully_]. No.

HELMS. Or Summensen?

KRAKAU. Do you suppose Caroline would mix up with a couple of swine like that?

HELMS. Of course I don't. It's you that's been putting such things in my head. You don't know what you are talking about.

KRAKAU. I know what I know.

HELMS [_pounds on the table_]. Who was he then? Speak up or admit that you are a filthy liar.

KRAKAU [_with sudden determination_]. I was her father. Now you know it.

HELMS [_derisively_]. You!... Ha, ha, ha!... You! God knows how you hit on that idea. Do tell us about it.

KRAKAU [_savagely; he is on his own side of the room now_]. Yes, I'll tell you about it.... With pleasure, my dear Helms!... I had made up my mind to carry the secret with me to the grave ... but I can't stand your overbearing ways any more.... Now it comes out.... And thank God for it.... You were a devil to your wife and you have been a devil to me, Helms, all the fifteen years we have lived in this room.

HELMS. Ha, ha! So I've been a devil, eh? The things one lives and learns!

KRAKAU. Yes, a devil--a devil on wheels. You whine and crow and fuss and scold ... nothing suits you ... no matter how hard I try ... and you are mean and niggardly.... Every pfennig must be pulled out of you like a tooth.

HELMS. I don't throw my money in the street.

KRAKAU. Nobody throws his money in the street, but you can't get along without spending money, can you?

HELMS. No.

KRAKAU. No, but you expected Caroline to. Instead of money you gave her compliments. Naturally she came to me for help. She had to have pin money and clothes.

HELMS. And you gave her money.

KRAKAU. Of course I did.

HELMS. Yes, what then?

KRAKAU. Of course it was humiliating to her. She was very unhappy. I did my best to console her.

HELMS. And then Andrea was born.

KRAKAU. Yes.

HELMS [_bitterly_]. That was ... that was powerful consolation, Krakau, I must say.... But tell me how you are so sure that Andrea was your daughter.

KRAKAU. Caroline told me herself. Besides, didn't I know that she had lived with you ten years before and never had a child.

HELMS [_pathetically_]. No. [_With a flash of anger._] Why didn't you tell me this before?

KRAKAU [_who is half sorry now_]. Why should I have told you?

HELMS [_without heeding him; mumbles half to himself, shaking his head_]. And if she was your daughter, then Knut is your grandson and you are also his godfather ... and to me he is nothing [_bows his head_]. I am eighty years old to-day, Krakau.... It is hard to be told such a thing when you are eighty....

KRAKAU [_has gone over to him, sympathetically touching his shoulder_]. I'm sorry, Helms. I wish I hadn't told you. But you made me so angry it just popped out.... But don't worry ... everything will be just the same as before--

HELMS [_shakes his head mournfully_]. No.

KRAKAU. But yes! I don't want him all for myself. We can share him, can't we?

HELMS. Share him?

KRAKAU. Of course. Instead of being your grandson Knut will be _our_ grandson, that's all.

HELMS [_sits up proudly_]. Knut is nothing to me.

KRAKAU. But nobody knows that.

HELMS. He is a perfect stranger.

KRAKAU. But nobody knows it except you and me--don't you see?

HELMS. You would throw it up to me every day.

KRAKAU. Never! We should be equal partners. And oh, the long talks we could have about him!... Before it was different ... you were so stuck up about your grandson, I couldn't bear it any longer.... But now we can both be stuck up.

HELMS [_hotly_]. No.... Go over on your own side. I don't want you here.... I want to be alone.

KRAKAU. Helms....

HELMS. Get out of here, I say.... And take your flowers with you. I accept no presents from the like of you.

KRAKAU. The flowers--?

HELMS. Yes, take them away. And take [_chokes over the word_] take Knut's picture, too, and the stockings his father sent.... I guess they're yours by right.

KRAKAU [_indignantly_]. I'll do nothing of the kind. My name's not Carl Helms.

HELMS. Well, take the flowers then.

KRAKAU [_takes the flowers_]. I can do that, all right.

HELMS. And see that you don't come on my side again without asking permission.

KRAKAU [_walks a few paces; turns around_]. Hadn't I better straighten up a bit before your guests come?

HELMS. You leave my things alone ... and mind your business.

[_Krakau goes with the flowers to his own side._]

HELMS. You've got the best of everything anyhow. The stove is on your side and the morning sun. Wouldn't you like to take my arm chair too, and my pictures? Don't mind me, you know.

[_Krakau does not answer. There is a pause. A clock outside
strikes five._]

KRAKAU. The clock's striking five.

HELMS. Let it strike.

[_There is another pause. A knock on the door is heard. Neither
answers it. There is a louder knock._]

KRAKAU. [_Impatiently._] Why don't you answer the door?

HELMS. I'm not in the humor for company.

KRAKAU. But some one is knocking.

HELMS. What's that to me? [_There is a third knock._]

KRAKAU. Obstinate old fool. [_Loudly._] Come in.

[_Hansen and Johnston enter. Behind them in the hallway Buffe can
be seen with Bolling on his arm. Farther back Hammer is seen._

[_Krakau rises, goes to the window and stands there, looking
gloomily out into the courtyard._]

HANSEN [_leaving the door open_]. The others are coming. Well, congratulations, Helms.

HELMS. Thank you.

JOHNSTON. Many happy returns. [_They shake hands._]

BUFFE [_entering with Bolling_]. I'll have to put him in your arm chair.

HELMS. Right over there.

BUFFE. [_Helping Bolling to the chair._] Our heartiest congratulations, eh, Bolling?

BOLLING. Hey?

BUFFE [_speaking close to his ear_]. I say we congratulate Helms on his birthday.

BOLLING. No. It's nothing to boast about.

HAMMER [_entering_]. Congratulations!

HANSEN. Now we're all here.

HELMS. Make yourselves comfortable. [_They all take seats._]

[_Bolling sits rigid in the arm chair absently twirling his
fingers._

_Krakau, who has once or twice shown the impulse to go over to
Helms, stirs uneasily but turns his back to his window._

_A silence falls._

_Suddenly Hansen begins to whistle, a tuneless mournful strain._]

JOHNSTON [_whispering confidentially_]. My dear Peter, one doesn't whistle at a birthday party.

HANSEN [_mocking him_]. My dear Henry, mind your own affairs.

JOHNSTON. You have the soul of a greengrocer.

HANSEN. You have the manners of a barber.

BUFFE [_laughing_]. Those boys are always fighting.

HAMMER. But they can't live without each other.

BUFFE [_to Hammer_]. Aren't you lonely since Kruger died?

HAMMER. It is lonesome sometimes, but I have more room now.

BUFFE. My wrists are so full of rheumatism I can hardly bend them any more.

HAMMER. There's something the matter with all of us. How is your throat, Helms?

HELMS. Pretty good. [_There is silence again._]

HANSEN. Fine weather to-day.

JOHNSTON. Regular birthday weather.

HAMMER. On my birthday it always rains.

HANSEN [_points to the window_]. You can see the sun from here.

BUFFE. I read in the papers about your son-in-law's appointment.

HELMS [_shortly_]. Yes?

JOHNSTON. Yes, we must congratulate you over again.

HANSEN. Helms is the luckiest man in the place.

HAMMER. Has your grandson been here yet?

HELMS. No.

BUFFE. Of course he's coming.

HELMS. I don't know.

JOHNSTON. Of course he'll come on your birthday. He's a fine young fellow.

HANSEN. Yes, indeed, Helms, you should be proud of him.

HAMMER [_sees Knut's portrait_]. There he is. [_All except Helms and Bolling look at the picture._]

HANSEN. Looks something like his grandfather.

JOHNSTON. Yes, it's a striking resemblance.

HAMMER. The nose.

JOHNSTON. And the eyes--look at the eyes.

HANSEN. Yes.

BUFFE. We are looking at his grandson's picture, Bolling.

[_Bolling stares indifferently. Helms casts apprehensive glances
at Krakau._]

HAMMER. Look at the gifts.

HANSEN. He's a lucky man.

JOHNSTON [_with a sigh_]. Ah yes, when you have your family--

BUFFE [_showing the stockings_]. Helms got some wonderful birthday presents, Bolling.

BOLLING [_feeling them_]. Good wool.

HANSEN [_suddenly_]. What is Krakau doing over there?

HELMS [_angrily_]. Yes, why don't you stop skulking over there like a homeless dog.

BUFFE [_to Hammer_]. They have quarreled.

HAMMER. I guess so. [_To Hansen._] Have they had a fight?

HANSEN. I don't know.

JOHNSTON. That's right, be sociable, Krakau.

HELMS [_irritably_]. Why don't you get the wine, Krakau?

KRAKAU. How should I know--

HELMS [_interrupts_]. You know it is in the closet. [_Krakau takes bottle and glasses from the cupboard._]

HAMMER [_delighted_]. Did you say wine?

BUFFE. Wine! Did you hear?

HANSEN. You might think Helms was a postal inspector himself.

JOHNSTON. More than that! He's a millionaire in disguise. Krakau can tell you--he has stockings full of good red gold.

[_Krakau pours the wine. All watch with eager eyes. The sun now
shines full in the room._]

KRAKAU. Hadn't we better push the tables together.

HELMS [_petulantly_]. No. It's my birthday. And we can do very well without your table.

HAMMER. There'd be more room with both tables.

BUFFE. We can't all sit around one table.

HELMS. All right--push them together. [_They do so._]

JOHNSTON. We must fix our tables this way, too, Peter.

HANSEN. All right.

BUFFE [_to Bolling_]. Come over to the table; we are going to have wine.

[_Bolling stands up. They move his chair to the table. He sits
again._]

HANSEN. Why are you so quiet, Bolling?

BOLLING. Everything there is to say has been said.

JOHNSTON. He's a smart man. [_Nods admiringly._]

HANSEN. Ha, ha, ha!

BOLLING [_suddenly to Krakau_]. What's that you are pouring?

KRAKAU. Sherry.

BOLLING [_angrily_]. I can't stand port wine.

KRAKAU. Yes, but this is sherry.

BOLLING. Port wine is poison.

HAMMER. But this is sherry.

BOLLING. Port wine is poison.

BUFFE. Yes, Bolling; but this is sherry; it won't hurt you.

BOLLING. Poison--port wine is.

JOHNSTON [_raising his glass._] Many happy returns!

HAMMER. Many future birthdays!

HANSEN. Happy ones!

BUFFE. Bolling, we are drinking to Helms.

BOLLING. It isn't port wine, is it?

BUFFE. No, indeed,--sherry.

BOLLING. I da'sn't drink port.

BUFFE. It's a toast to Helms.

BOLLING. Why?

BUFFE. He's eighty years old to-day.

BOLLING. I am ninety-two. That's nothing to be glad about.

[_All except Bolling raise their glasses. They utter cheery
exclamations and drink._]

HELMS. Thanks; thank you!

BOLLING [_raising his glass_]. Congratulations, Helms. I hope you never get as old as me.

HAMMER [_angrily_]. That's no way to talk, Bolling.

HANSEN. He's spoiling the whole party.

BUFFE [_apologetically_]. Bolling's tired of living.

JOHNSTON. You're joking.

BUFFE. No; really he is. He wants to die.

JOHNSTON. Nonsense! How can any one _want_ to die? It's against human nature.

KRAKAU [_who has taken cigars from the cupboard_]. Who wants to smoke?

HANSEN [_with delight._] Cigars too!

[_Krakau passes the cigars. Hansen, Hammer and Johnston each take
one. The sun now shines on the table and men._]

BUFFE. The sun is as red as wine.

HANSEN [_with a sigh_]. Autumn is coming.

HANSEN. We've had Autumn weather for two weeks past.

HELMS. Unseasonable weather! I hate it. [_During the entire scene he has been ill at ease, casting frequent apprehensive glances at Krakau, who avoids his gaze._]

BUFFE. It isn't like it used to be.

HAMMER. No. When the calendar said _Summer_ we _had_ Summer.

BOLLING [_apropos of nothing_]. I am ninety-two.

BUFFE [_explaining apologetically_]. He always says that. It's on his mind.

KRAKAU. I hear that the nurse downstairs is engaged to be married.

HANSEN. Yes, with the doctor.

JOHNSTON. The hospital doctor?

KRAKAU. Yes; he's a sick man himself.

HAMMER. Then it's a good thing she's a nurse.

HELMS. Every young woman ought to be trained as a nurse.

BUFFE [_to Bolling_]. The nurse in the hospital is going to marry the doctor.

BOLLING. I was married, too.

HELMS. Fill the glasses, Krakau. [_Krakau does._]

BUFFE. How is Larsen's brain fever getting along?

HANSEN. He must be worse. The porter chased the organ grinder away.

HAMMER. I thought I heard the organ. Is this Thursday?

KRAKAU. Thursday, September twentieth.

HELMS [_testily_]. Don't show off, Krakau.

JOHNSTON [_raises his glass_]. Here's health. Splendid sherry.

KRAKAU [_to Buffe_]. Why aren't you drinking?

BUFFE. Thanks. I never take more than one glass. This sunshine warms you as much as wine.

HAMMER. I have the morning sun in my window.

HANSEN. So have I. It wakes me up every morning. It's supposed to be healthy.

HELMS. Krakau stole it from me.

KRAKAU. You know very well that--

HELMS. Yes you did. And the stove, too.

KRAKAU. The stove--

HELMS. Isn't the morning sun on your side?

KRAKAU. Yes, but--

HELMS. And the stove, too?

KRAKAU. Didn't you--

HELMS. Nothing of the kind. You live on the east side, and the morning sun is healthiest.

KRAKAU. We can change, for my part.

HELMS. Do you hear that? Now he wants to steal my view of the street, too?

HAMMER. What do you old friends want to quarrel for?

JOHNSTON. And on your birthday.

HELMS. Who is quarreling?

BUFFE. You may be well satisfied with the afternoon sun, Helms. See how beautifully it shines in the window. Look at the sun, Bolling.

BOLLING. I've seen it before.

BUFFE [_explaining with pride_]. Bolling used to be a carpenter, you know. He traveled all over the world.

BOLLING. I have seen everything.

[_There is a rap at the door. Silence. Krakau opens it, Knut
enters._]

KNUT [_to Krakau_]. Hello, Grandpop! [_To Helms, shaking his hand._] Congratulations, grandfather. [_To the others._] Hello, everybody.

[_The old men nod their heads, delighted. Buffe whispers to
Bolling._]

BUFFE. It's Knut. The son of Helms' daughter.

BOLLING. I had a son.

HELMS. I'm glad you came my--my son [_glares at Krakau defiantly._]

KNUT. I can only stay a minute. Have you heard about father's appointment?

JOHNSTON. He's been bragging to us about it, sonny.

HAMMER. And treated us to sherry.

BOLLING. Port wine is poison.

HANSEN. And cigars.

KNUT. Not really!

HELMS. Why don't you hang up your cap?

KNUT. I must be off in a minute. Back to school. I had only an hour's leave, and it takes half an hour to ride each way.

BUFFE. How old are you, my boy?

KNUT. Seventeen.

BUFFE. It's sixty-one years since I was that young. He's only seventeen, Bolling.

BOLLING. I was seventeen--once. Now I'm ninety-two.

HAMMER. I am seventy-three.

KNUT. Let's add up the number of years in this room.

HELMS. There's too many. It can't be done.

KNUT [_with a laugh_]. Let's try. [_Rapidly._] Mr. Bolling is 92 and grandfather is 80; that's 172.

HELMS. There's quick counting for you!

KNUT. How old are you, Mr. Buffe?

BUFFE. Seventy-eight.

KNUT. That's 250.

HAMMER [_in wonderment_]. Two hundred and fifty!

KNUT. And you, grandpop?

KRAKAU. Seventy.

KNUT. 320. And you, Mr. Hammer?

HAMMER. Seventy-three.

KNUT. 393.

JOHNSTON. Think of that!

KNUT. And Mr. Hansen?

[_All the old people except Bolling and Hansen, snigger. Hansen
turns away, offended._]

KNUT. Don't you know how old you are, sir?

HANSEN. Of course, I know.

HELMS. He's ashamed to tell you. Ha, ha!

BUFFE. He's afraid. Ha, ha!

HANSEN. Who's afraid? [_Reluctantly._] I'm only sixty.

THE OLD PEOPLE. "Only a boy." "Not dry behind the ears." "He'll grow." "Poor child."

KNUT. That makes 453.

JOHNSTON [_beats his chest_]. I am seventy-five.

KNUT. That gives us 528 altogether.

HAMMER. Five hundred and twenty-eight! What a head the boy has on him.

BUFFE [_to Bolling_]. All together we are 528 years old.

BOLLING. What does it matter?

HELMS. We'd be older still if there weren't a boy among us.

JOHNSTON. Yes, Hansen spoils it by being so young.

KRAKAU. You'll have to hurry, Hansen.

HAMMER. Yes, so you will.

BUFFE. Why don't you take something to make you grow?

HANSEN. Oh, let me alone!

KNUT. Well, I must be going.

THE OLD PEOPLE. "What a pity." "Can't you be late for once?" "The teacher won't mind."

KNUT. I really must. Good-by, grandfather.... Hope you live eighty years more.... Good-by, grandpop.... Good-by, everybody. Good luck! [_He exits._]

HAMMER. You can see him go from here. [_Goes to the window._]

HANSEN. Can you? [_Joins him._]

[_All go to the window except Bolling, who sits stiff and
abstracted in his chair._]

HELMS. Open it. [_He helps Johnston do so._]

JOHNSTON. There he goes.

KRAKAU. He is waving to us. [_All wave back._]

BUFFE. What a fine lad!

KRAKAU. Good-by. [_All shout good-by. Bolling does not stir._]

BUFFE [_turning away from the window, with a sigh_]. He's gone.

HANSEN [_low_]. Yes, he's gone.

JOHNSTON. It's nice to have young people around once in a while.

BUFFE [_nods sadly_]. Yes.

JOHNSTON. You have a fine young grandson, Helms.

HELMS [_with an uneasy glance at Krakau_]. Yes, I can't complain of him.

BUFFE. It's good to have a family that look after you.

HANSEN. It's good to have a family at all. Many people haven't.

HAMMER. No.

BOLLING. No. They die.

HELMS [_sharply_]. Close the window, Krakau. There's a draught. [_Krakau closes the window._]

HAMMER. Yes, the sun is down.

BUFFE. Yes.

HANSEN. Isn't it time we were going?

JOHNSTON. These _young_ people should be early to bed. [_Laughter._]

BUFFE. It really is time to go. Thank you, Helms. It was a nice party.

HELMS. Going already? [_Glances uneasily at Krakau._]

BUFFE. It's near supper time, you know. We are going, Bolling.

HAMMER. Then we'll go too.... We enjoyed your party, Helms.

HELMS. The pleasure was mine.

JOHNSTON. Good night, Helms. Next time it's my party.

HELMS. When?

JOHNSTON. October 23rd.

HANSEN. Good-by--and many thanks.

HELMS. Not at all, not at all.

BUFFE. Are you ready, Bolling?

BOLLING. Hum! [_He rises._]

BUFFE. Good-by, everybody. [_To Bolling._] Say good-by.

BOLLING. Good-by.

[_Krakau holds open the door. The guests file out talking gayly.
He closes the door and their voices are faintly heard outside._]

[_Helms bustles about uneasily._]

KRAKAU [_on his own side_]. Well, it went off very nicely.

HELMS. Yes, very well--very well.

KRAKAU. Want me to help you straighten up?

HELMS. No--I can do it myself.

[_There is a pause. Krakau takes back his chairs._]

KRAKAU. We'll want to move my table back.

HELMS [_seizing one end of it_]. Well, come on! Where are you?

KRAKAU [_taking the other end hastily_]. Coming, coming!

[_The table moved, there is another pause. Each is on his own
side. Helms potters helplessly with the bottles and glasses._]

KRAKAU. Need any help?

HELMS. You stand there doing nothing and you ask me-- [_The rest is a sullen growl._]

[_Krakau takes the glasses, puts them on a tray and carries them
across to left._]

HELMS. Where are you going with my glasses?

KRAKAU [_stops_]. I was going to wash them.

HELMS. Well, don't forget whom they belong to.

KRAKAU. Don't worry. [_Puts the glasses on the wash stand._] Shall I light the lamp?

HELMS. You can't see in the dark, can you?

KRAKAU [_lighting the hanging lamp_]. Knut behaved very nicely, didn't he?

HELMS [_moodily_]. Yes.

KRAKAU. He made everybody happy with his high spirits.

HELMS. Not me.

KRAKAU [_hastily changing the subject_]. It's funny about old Bolling. How he's changed in the last year! He never talks any more.

HELMS. When you get to be ninety-two and not a relation in the world--[_His voice breaks in self-pity._]

KRAKAU [_finished with the lamp, makes a little solicitous gesture behind his friend's back, but immediately busies himself with putting things to right_]. Where do you want these things to go?

HELMS. On the chiffonier ... next to the other.... Bolling is so old he feels superfluous.... I am getting like that--

KRAKAU [_hastily_]. Where do these stockings and things go?

HELMS. Next to the last drawer.

KRAKAU. I guess you are all fixed now.... There's nothing else? [_Turns from the chiffonier, having closed the drawer, and starts for his own side of the room._]

HELMS [_suddenly_]. It's a terrible thing you've done to me, Krakau!

KRAKAU [_in surprise_]. What now?

HELMS [_his voice trembling_]. You have made my dead wife a strumpet and my dead daughter a bastard. [_Krakau bridles and turns to him with clenched fists. Helms continues pitifully._] And you have robbed me in my old age of a grandson ... all I have in the world. [_Querulously musing._] When men are young they see red and kill for that sort of thing ... yes ... they kill.... But when you are old it's different.... I can't even be very angry with you, Krakau.... Isn't it queer?... It's all so far back ... in the past ... impersonal ... and blurred like a half-remembered dream.

KRAKAU [_with contrition_]. I shouldn't have told you.

HELMS. You shouldn't have told me.... No ... but you did ... and I can't be angry with you.... I am an old fool.... After all ... honor ... fidelity ... marriage vows ... what do they matter when there is nothing to do but to sit and count the days until you die?

KRAKAU [_chokingly_]. Helms!

HELMS [_with a flash of anger_]. But Knut matters. He _is_ my grandson ... in spite of you.... You shan't take him away from me.

KRAKAU. I don't want to take him away from you.

HELMS. Your blood ... perhaps ... but _my grandson_--

KRAKAU [_eagerly_]. Of course, he is, Helms. We can share him between us. Don't you see? He need never know. No one need know ... just you and I.... We can have him together ... our own little secret.

HELMS [_looks at him_]. Nobody else will know?

KRAKAU [_solemnly_]. Not a soul. I swear it.

HELMS. Nobody?

KRAKAU. Nobody.

HELMS [_a faint smile dispels his frown_]. And when we talk about Knut you won't say "So-o" any more?

KRAKAU. Never ... for hereafter he'll be _our_ Knut ... just as if you were his father and I his mother.

HELMS [_the idea pleases him, considers it, then gives his assent like a child playing a game_]. No, I'll be the mother. And we can quarrel about him ... of course, in a friendly way.

KRAKAU. Always friendly.

HELMS. And just think--we shall have something to talk about all the time.

KRAKAU. Especially at night ... after supper ... under the lamp.

HELMS. And when we are in bed in the dark and cannot sleep.

KRAKAU. Always about our Knut.

HELMS. Ha, ha.... Do you know, Krakau, I think you should have told me long ago.

KRAKAU. I was afraid.

HELMS. Afraid! Absurd. What was there to be afraid about? You can see for yourself that we are better friends since you told me. [_Goes to the chiffonier and gets the photograph._] He does look something like you.

KRAKAU [_magnanimously_]. Oh, no! He's your wife's son all over.

HELMS [_with equal magnanimity_]. He looks a good deal like you just the same.... Don't you want to borrow this for a few days?

KRAKAU. Why, you only got it this morning.

HELMS. Never mind. Take it.... Saturday I'll get it back from you. Then in a few days I'll lend it to you again.

KRAKAU. Thanks. [_Takes the photograph_]. Can I borrow the paper, too?

HELMS. Sure, take it with you.... And lend me your chess men, will you?

KRAKAU [_with animation_]. I'll get it for you. [_Goes to his own chiffonier for it._]

HELMS. We might as well move the tables together. It's more comfortable that way.

KRAKAU. Certainly. [_Comes down with the chessboard and helps move the tables._]

HELMS. Now you take my arm chair and read your paper. I'll play over here.

KRAKAU. I wouldn't think of taking your chair.

HELMS. You do as you are told. [_Sits on an ordinary chair._] I can reach better from one of these anyway.

KRAKAU. Oh, well. [_Sits in the arm chair and unfolds the newspaper. There is a pause._]

HELMS. Why don't you light your pipe?

KRAKAU. Your throat--

HELMS. My throat is all right. Go on and smoke.

KRAKAU [_comfortably lights his pipe, relaxes_]. Well, now we'll see how good you are at working out problems.

HELMS. I don't think I can do it.

KRAKAU [_reading_]. Sure you can.

HELMS. Look here. Would you check with the bishop?

KRAKAU [_studies the board_]. No ... that loses you the queen.... Hum ... you've sort of mixed it up.... Back with that rook.

HELMS. How's that?

KRAKAU. Brilliant!

HELMS. Knut is back at school by this time.

KRAKAU. Yes, probably studying his lessons.

HELMS. He's a boy.

KRAKAU. None better.

HELMS. Isn't it nice to talk about him like this ... calm and friendly?... You have no cause to be jealous any more, ha, ha!

KRAKAU. And you needn't be stuck up any more, ha, ha!

HELMS. No, ha, ha! There, I've muddled it again.

KRAKAU. No, you haven't.... Just move here ... and here.

HELMS [_suddenly takes out his purse_]. By the way, I owe you twenty-seven pfennig.

KRAKAU. There's no hurry.

HELMS. Take it!

KRAKAU. All right. [_He rises._]

HELMS. Where are you going?

KRAKAU [_at the chiffonier_]. We forgot the flowers.

HELMS. Oh, yes!

KRAKAU. They smell so fragrant. [_Puts them on the table._]

HELMS [_takes a flower and puts it in Krakau's buttonhole_]. You must wear one.

KRAKAU [_overcome_]. Thank you, Helms, thank you. [_They bend over the chessboard again._]

HELMS [_rubs his hands with delight_]. Now white moves.

KRAKAU [_considering_]. White moves.... I should say ... there ... that pawn ... I'd sacrifice it.

HELMS [_picks it up with playful tenderness_]. Poor little white pawn! [_Places it on the board._]

[_They study the next move absorbedly as the curtain falls._]

[_Curtain._]

BROTHERS

A SARDONIC COMEDY

BY LEWIS BEACH

Copyright, 1920, by Frank Shay.
All rights reserved.

CHARACTERS

SETH.
LON.
PA.

BROTHERS was first presented by the Provincetown Players, New York.

Applications for permission to produce BROTHERS should be addressed to
Frank Shay, Four Christopher Street, New York City. No performance may
take place without his consent.

BROTHERS

A SARDONIC COMEDY BY LEWIS BEACH

[SCENE: _A very small room in a tar-papered shanty, reeking
poverty. The entrance is center-back,--a few boards nailed
together for a door. A similar door, opening into the bedroom of
the shack, upstage right. Downstage left, a broken window. Left
center, a rusty cooking stove. Above it, a series of shelves
holding a few dishes and cooking utensils. Rough board table in
the center of the room. A kitchen chair at the right of the table.
A large wooden rocker near the stove; rope and wire hold it
together. An arm-chair, below the bedroom door is full of
newspapers. Several heterogeneous colored prints culled from
out-of-date newspapers and calendars are tacked on the
rain-stained walls. When the entrance door is open we see a
cleared, sandy spot with a background of scrub oaks and jack
pines._

_The curtain rises on the late afternoon of a spring day._

_A man of forty enters, leaving the bedroom door open behind him.
His small head and childish face, on a tall, thin, and extremely
erect body, resemble those of a species of putty-like rubber doll
whose head may be reshaped by the hand. He wears a winter cap,
blue flannel shirt, well-worn trousers with suspenders, and
sneakers that were once white. Outside shirt sleeves are rolled to
the elbow; undershirt sleeves are not. His shoes make no noise;
nevertheless, he comes on tiptoe, his eyes fixed on the shelves.
For a moment he stops and glances into the room he has just
quitted. Satisfied, he squats before the shelves. He hesitates,
then quickly lifts from a lower shelf an inverted cooking vessel,
and grasps a small tin box which was hidden under it. He inspects
the box, trying to decide whether he can pry open its lock._]

[_The voice of an old, infirm man in the adjoining room_]: Seth?

SETH [_alarmed; starts to return the box to the shelf_]. Yes, Pa? [_His voice is pitched high._]

PA [_querulously_]. What yuh doin'?

SETH. Jest settin'.

PA. Don't yuh go near my tin box 'til I'm dead.

[_Seth makes no answer._]

PA. D'yuh hear?

SETH. I hear.

PA. I won't heve no one know nothin' 'bout my last will an' testament 'til I'm dead.

[_There is a pause. Seth is regarding the box intently._]

PA. Seth?

SETH [_peevishly_]. What d'yuh want?

PA. Bring me a drink.

SETH. There ain't no more water in the pail.

PA. There's lots in the well this spring.

[_A pause. Seth continues his scrutiny of the lock._]

PA. My throat's burnin' up.

SETH. Well, maybe I kin find a drop. [_Puts the box on the shelf and re-covers it; in doing so makes a slight noise._]

PA. What's that noise?

SETH. I'm gettin' yuh a drink!

[_Seth strolls to the stove, lifts the top from the kettle, and
looks inside. He finds a tin cup and fills it with water. Looking
into the kettle again, he sees there is little water left. Why
make a trip to the pump necessary? Back into the kettle goes some
of the water. Cup in hand, he moves toward the bedroom. He reaches
the door when a sagging bellied man enters from the yard. It is
Lon, the elder, shorter brother. His face has become molded into
an expressionless stare, and his every movement seems to be made
with an effort. An abused man, Lon, the most ill-treated fellow
in the world. At least, so he is ever at pains to have all
understand. He wears an old felt hat, cotton shirt, badly patched
trousers, suspenders attached to the buttons of his trousers with
string, and shoes that are almost soleless. His shirt, stained
with sweat, is opened at the throat, revealing red flannel
underwear. When Seth sees Lon he immediately closes the bedroom
door, silently turns the key in the lock, and puts the key in his
pocket. For a moment the men stand looking at each other,
reminding one of two roosters. Then Seth strolls to the stove,
pours the water into the kettle, and planks himself down in the
rocker. Lon glances once or twice at the bedroom door, but moves
not to it. He watches Seth suspiciously. Finally he speaks._]

LON [_in an expressionless drawl_]. I hear Pa's dyin'.

SETH. Yuh hear right.

LON [_with a motion of his head toward the bedroom_]. Is he in there?

SETH. Yes.

[_Lon hesitates, then moves slowly toward Pa's room. An idea
strikes Seth suddenly and he interrupts Lon's progress._]

SETH. He's asleep.

[_Lon stops. Seth fills his pipe and lights it. Lon takes his
corncob from his pocket and coughs meaningly. Seth looks at Lon,
sees what he wants, but does not offer him tobacco. Lon puts his
pipe back in his pocket, moves to the table, sits, and sighs. He
crosses his right foot so Seth sees what was once the sole of his
shoe._]

SETH. What did yuh come here fur?

LON. 'Cause Pa's dyin'.

SETH. Yuh never come when he was about.

LON. Wall, no one ever seed yuh a settin' here much.

SETH [_fleeringly_]. Suppose yuh want t' know what he's left yuh.

LON. Wall, ... it warn't comfortable comin' three miles an' a quarter on a day like this un.

SETH [_cackles_]. Sand's hot on yer bare naked feet, ain't it?

LON [_moves his feet_]. Yuh kin talk about my holey boots. If I didn't heve no mouths but my own t' feed I guess I could buy new ones too. So there, Seth Polland!

SETH. Jacobs offered yuh a job at the fisheries same as me.

LON. It's too fur t' hoof it twict a day.

SETH. Yuh could sleep at the fisheries.

LON. I got t' look after my kids.

SETH [_grins_]. 'Tain't my fault yuh've kids.

LON [_threateningly_]. Don't yuh talk 'bout that! [_Pause._] Yer woman had t' leave yuh. [_Laughs._] Yuh didn't give her 'nough t' eat.

SETH [_indifferently_]. She warn't no good.

LON. She had t' leave yuh same as Ma left Pa twenty years ago. Pa's dyin' fur sure?

SETH. Who told yuh?

LON. Ma.

SETH [_greatly surprised_]. Ma? [_suspiciously._] What you got t' do with her?

LON. I was passin' her place this mornin'. Furst time I spoke t' her in a year.

SETH. I ain't in two.

LON [_in despair_]. Seth, she's cut twenty cords o' wood t' sell.

SETH [_shaking his head_]. An' me without a roof o' my own.

LON. Me an' the kids wonder sometimes where our next meal's comin' from.

SETH [_as though there were something better in store for him_]. Oh, wall.

LON [_pricks up his ears; coughs_]. If I had this house I could work at the fisheries.

SETH. But yuh ain't a goin' t' git it.

LON [_alarmed_]. Pa ain't gone an' left it t' yuh?

SETH. Pa deeded this t' Doc last winter.

LON [_amazed and angered_]. He did?

SETH. Doc said he could live here 'till he died. But it's Doc's.

LON. It warn't right.

SETH. Wall, he had t' pay fur his physics some way. He told me yuh wouldn't help him out.

LON. And Pa told me yuh wouldn't. An' yuh ain't got two kids t' feed. [_Pause._] There's Pa's old shanty down the road. If I had that I could work at the fisheries.

[_Seth's smile is his only response._]

Pa still owns it, don't he?

SETH. There warn't no call fur him t' make his last will an' testament if he don't.

LON [_brightens_]. He's left his last will an' testament?

SETH. Yes. I'm figgerin' on sellin' the place t' Doc.

LON [_emphatically_]. Pa ain't a left it t' yuh!

SETH. Doc'll want it.

LON [_forcefully_]. Where's the will an' testament?

SETH [_with a gesture_]. In the tin box under that there kittle.

[_Lon hurries to the shelves, picks up the dish, and grasps the
box._]

LON [_disappointed_]. It's locked.

SETH. An' the key's round Pa's neck.

LON. Let's git it.

SETH. Pa won't give it t' us.

LON. Yuh said he was sleepin'.

SETH. I mean--he might wake up.

[_Lon inspects the box further._]

LON. I think I could open it.

SETH. Pa might ask t' see it.

LON. Hell. [_Puts the box back on the shelf._]

SETH. Doc'll want the place seein' as how it's right next t' this un.

[_Lon is very nervous._]

Yuh might jest as wall go home.

LON. No, yuh don't! Yuh can't make me believe Pa's left it t' yuh. [_Takes off his hat and mops his brow with his sleeve. The top of his head is very bald._]

SETH. Then what yuh gettin' so excited 'bout?

LON. I ain't excited. [_Puts his hat on._] It jest makes me mad 'cause yuh say Pa's left it t' yuh, an' I know he ain't. See? There warn't no call fur him t' heve willed an' testamented it t' yuh. Yuh've only yerself t' look after an' I've two motherless kids.

SETH. Every one knows how much Pa thought o' them.

LON. It warn't my fault if they thumbed their noses at him.

SETH. Yuh could o' basted 'em.

LON. They's like their Ma. Bastin' never done her no good, God rest her soul. All the same, Pa knowd how hard it is fur me t' keep their bellies full. Why, when we heve bread Alexander never wants less than half the loaf! An' all the work I gits t' do is what the city folks who come t' the Beach in the summer gives me.

SETH. Huh! Jest as though I didn't know 'bout yuh. Mr. Breckenridge told me yuh wouldn't even contract t' chop his wood fur him. An' there yuh sits all winter long in that God-fursaken shanty o' yourn, with trees all round yuh, an' yuh won't put an ax t' one 'til yer own fires dies out.

LON. My back ain't never been strong. Choppin' puts the kinks in it. Yuh kin talk, yuh kin, Seth Polland, with a soft job at the fisheries an' three squares a day which yuh don't heve t' cook yourself. Nothin' t' do all winter but walk round them cottages an' see that no one broke in. An' I'm the one who knows how often yuh walk round them cottages. I wish I hed yer snap. [_Sits._] But I ain't never had no luck.

SETH [_defending himself_]. I walk round them cottages jest as often as I need t' walk round them cottages.

LON. Huh! I could tell a tale. Who was it set with his feet in the oven last winter, an' let Jack Tompkins break into them cottages--_with keys_? [_Seth does not answer._] I could tell, I could. But I ain't a goin' t' 'til they put me on the witness-stand. [_Pause._] But the furst initials o' his name is Seth Polland.

SETH [_rising instantly_]. Lon Polland, yuh ever tell an' I'll skin yuh alive.

LON. Huh!

SETH. Skin yuh like a pole-cat.

LON. Huh!

[_Seth turns, knocks the ashes from his pipe into the stove. Lon
rises; takes Seth's chair and rocks vigorously._]

SETH. Yuh know what I got on yuh.

[_Lon's bravado is short-lived. He rocks less strenuously._]

SETH. Yuh thought I didn't see yuh, but I was right on the spot when yuh set fire t' Mr. Rogers' bath-house.

[_Lon stops rocking._]

SETH. Right behind a jack pine I was an' seed yuh do it. An' yuh done it 'cause Mr. Rogers leaved Jessup paint the house when yuh thought yuh ought t' had the job.

LON [_rises_]. I got t' be a gettin' home a fore dark an' tend t' my stock.

SETH. Stock? [_Cackles. Pulls out his tobacco-pouch and fills his pipe. Lon shows his pipe again._] A blind mare an' a rooster. [_Drops pouch on the table as he lights his pipe._]

LON. Rooster's dead. [_Moves stealthily toward the table._]

SETH. What of?

LON. Pip.

SETH. Starvation.

LON. I would a killed him this long time, but Victoria howled so when I threatened. The fowl used t' wake me in winter same as summer with his crowin'.

[_As Lon finishes his speech he reaches for the pouch. But Seth's
hand is quicker. Seth moves to the rocker and sits, dangling the
pouch temptingly by one finger. Lon puts his pipe in his pocket._]

SETH. Should think yuh'd want t' set round 'til Pa dies, bein' as yer so sure he's left yuh his property.

LON. He oughter a left it t' me.

SETH. Well, I'm a tellin' yuh it's mine.

LON. Yuh ain't got no right t' it. [_Mops his head again._] Pa begged yuh t' come an' live with him, offered yuh this fine roof over yer head, an' yuh was too cussed even t' do that fur him. An' now yuh expect he's made yuh his heir.

SETH. I've treated him righter 'an yuh.

LON. Yuh ain't.

[_Suddenly something seems to snap in Seth's brain. He looks as
though he were in intense pain._]

SETH [_gasping_]. Maybe he's left it t' the two o' us!

LON. _What?_

SETH. Maybe he's divided the place a 'tween us.

LON [_shakes his head_]. Oh, he wouldn't be so unhuman as that.

SETH. He would. He was always settin' one agin' t' other.

LON. He used t' tell me I had t' figger how t' git the best o' yuh or he'd baste me.

SETH. He was all the time whettin' us on when we was kids.

LON. It was him showed me how t' shake my old clock so it'd run fur five minutes, an' then you'd swop that pail yuh found fur it.

SETH. Huh! He give me his gum t' stop up the hole in that pail. Yuh wouldn't know it leaked an' we could laugh at yuh when you had t' carry water in it.

LON [_pathetically_]. There warn't never more 'an a pint left when I got t' the house. An' Pa always hed such a thirst.

SETH. He'd like t' laugh at us in his grave.

LON. It jest tickled him t' raise hell a 'tween us.

SETH [_rises_]. I'll take my oath he's divided the old shanty an' the two acres a 'tween us. [_Drops into his chair like a condemned man._] An' I figgered I'd be sellin' them t' Doc t'morrow.

LON. Me an' the kids was a goin' t' heve a garden on the cleared spot.

SETH. A garden in that sand?

LON. Radishes an' rutabagas.

SETH [_persuasively; his manner becomes kind_]. Lon, what yuh need is the shanty.

LON [_droning_]. The shanty ain't no good t' me without I hes the ground fur it t' set on.

SETH. Yuh can tear it down an' use the lumber t' mend yer old leaky one.

LON. I want the shanty t' live in so I kin git a soft job at the fisheries. [_Sympathetically._] You ought t' have a shanty, Seth. Supposin' yuh was t' take sick. They wouldn't keep yuh at the fisheries then. Yuh take my place an' give me Pa's.

SETH [_flashing into anger_]. I want the two acres t' sell Doc. Yer old place leaks like a net! [_Then, fearing he has been too disparaging:_] But yuh could make it real comfortable with the lumber in--

LON [_cutting in_]. I'll make a bargain. I'll leave yuh a bed-stead an' a table if yuh'll take my place.

SETH. I don't want it! I want Pa's old place.

LON. An' I want it. I'm older 'an yuh.

SETH. I got the best claim t' it.

LON. Yuh ain't. We with three mouths t' feed. Yer a swindler, yuh are. Yuh always tried t' cheat me.

SETH. No one kin say that t' me. I'm an honest man. But I'm a goin' 't heve the two acres if I heve t' go t' law.

LON. Wall, yuh ain't a goin' t' wreck me.

SETH [_calmly; philosophically again_]. Maybe yer right, Lon, when yuh say I ought t' have a roof. I'll tell yuh what I'll do, seein' as how yer my brother. Yuh give me the ground an' the house on it, an' I'll make yuh a present o' twenty-five dollars.

LON. That's a lie! Yuh ain't got twenty-five dollars t' yer name.

SETH. Yuh think so.

LON. Every one in these parts knows yuh owes Hawkins forty-three dollars an twenty-nine cents he kin't collect. Give me the house an' ground, an' I'll give yuh my own house an' my note fur twenty-five dollars.

SETH. Yer note! I'm a goin' t' heve Pa's old place.

LON. An' I say that yuh or no swindler like yuh is a goin' t' cheat me out o' it.

SETH. I ain't a swindler, yuh wall-eyed son--

LON [_advancing_]. Take it back. Don't yuh call me dissipated names.

SETH. I'll never take it back!

[_Lon doubles his fists and strikes; but the blow lands in the air
as Seth grabs Lon. They fight furiously and in dead earnest,
though there is no ethics to the struggle. The rickety furniture
trembles as they advance and retreat. Seth is quicker and lighter
and less easily winded; but Lon's bulk is not readily moved, and,
despite his "weak back," he can still wield his arms. It looks
like a fight to the finish. Isn't their future at stake? And they
are giving vent to a hatred bred by their father. But suddenly
Pa's voice is heard, calling wildly to Seth. The men do not move:
the voice seems to have paralyzed their muscles. For a moment they
stand dazed. Then consciousness comes to them: they realize that
the waiting is over. They tear to the bedroom. A silence follows.
They must be fascinated by the ghost of the old man._]

SETH [_in the bedroom; quietly_]. He's gone, Lon.

LON [_in the bedroom_]. Yer right, Seth.

[_Then their voices rise in dispute._]

Don't yuh take it!

SETH. I've got it!

LON. It's mine!

SETH. It ain't!

LON. Yuh kin't--

SETH. Shut up!

[_They rush into the kitchen, Seth in advance, Lon close on his
heels. The younger throws the cooking-dish to the floor, grabs the
box, and hurries to the table. As though they were about to
discover a world's secret, they unlock the box, each as near to it
as possible, his arms tense, fingers itching, ready to ward off a
blow or seize the treasure. From the box, Seth takes an old
tobacco-pouch, a jack-knife, a bit of heavy cord, a couple of
letters. These are contemptuously thrown on the table. The will
lies at the bottom of the box. Lon snatches it. Seth would take it
from him._]

LON. Hold off! I'm jest a goin' t' read it.

[_Seth curbs his impatience. Lon opens the document and reads,
slowly and haltingly._]

"I, Nathaniel Polland, o' Sandy Point in the County o' Rhodes an' State o' Michigan, bein' o' sound mind an' memory, do make, publish, an' declare this t' be my last Will an' Testament in manner followin', viz--." What does "viz" mean?

[_Unable to bear the suspense longer, Seth seizes the paper. He
scans it until his eyes catch the all-important paragraph._]

SETH. "--Bequeath all my earthly possessions to my wife, Jennie Polland."

[_Their thunderbolt has descended. They stand like two men
suddenly deprived of thought and motion. Medusa's victims could
not have been more pitiable. They have been hurled from their El
Dorado, which, at the worst, was to have been their common
property._

_Then Seth's voice comes to him, and sufficient strength to drop
into a chair._]

SETH. The damned old critter.

LON. I'll be swaned.

SETH [_blazing out_]. That's gratitude.

LON. After all we done fur him.

SETH [_pathetically_]. An' me a plannin' these last five years on gettin' that house an' ground.

LON. My kids are packin' our furniture this afternoon, gettin' ready t' move in.

SETH [_with supreme disgust_]. Leavin' it t' Ma.

LON. Her who he ain't hardly spoke t' in twenty years.

SETH. Jest as though yuh an' me wasn't alive.

LON. We'd a given him our last pipeful.

SETH. His own flesh an' blood.

LON. Why, he told me more 'an a thousand times he hated Ma.

SETH. She don't need it.

LON. She's ready fur the grave-yard.

SETH. She's that stingy, cuttin' an' choppin' wood, sellin it t' the city folks. We might a knowd.

LON. An' me a comin' all the three miles an' a quarter t' see him a fore he died.

SETH. I been settin' here two days a waitin'.

LON. An' then t' treat us like that. [_Wipes his mouth._] Why, the hull place ain't worth a damn!

SETH. A cavin'-in shanty an' two acres yuh couldn't grow weeds on.

LON. A pile o' sand.

SETH [_rising; bursting into fire like an apparently dead rocket_]. She ain't a goin' t' heve it!

LON. What?

SETH. I won't let Ma heve it!

LON. But how yuh goin' t' stop her? 'Twon't do no good t' tear up the will an' testament. It's rec-ord-ed.

SETH. Don't make no difference. She ain't a goin' t' heve that place.

LON [_eagerly_]. But how yuh goin'--?

SETH. I don't know. But I'm a goin' t'.

LON. It ain't hers by rights.

SETH. Didn't she leave him twenty years ago?

LON. Why, she ain't even expectin' it!

SETH. She'll never miss it if she don't git it.

LON [_shaking his head_]. Me an' the kids packed up, ready t' move in.

[_There is a silence. Lon deep in his disappointment, Seth making
his brain work as it has never worked before. And he is rewarded
for his diligence. A suggestion of his sneering smile comes to his
face._]

SETH. Lon?

LON. Yes?

SETH [_looks about, making sure that only his brother is listening_]. Yuh 'member what yuh done t' Rogers when he didn't leave yuh paint his bath-house?

LON [_his eyes open wide_]. Burn it?

SETH. Sh!

LON. Oh, no!

SETH. Yuh don't want Ma t' heve it, does yuh?

LON. When I burned that bath-house I didn't sleep good fur a couple o' nights. I dreamed o' the sheriff.

SETH. Nobody knows but me. An' nobody'll know yuh an' me set fire t' Pa's old place.

LON. Yuh swear yuh won't never tell?

SETH [_raising his right hand_]. I swear.

LON. Yuh won't never try an' make out I done it next time we run agin each other fur district school-inspector?