Chapter XIX: Part 19

FIRST GIRL. He cannot be a master unless you make him so.

MAN. What is this that you are saying? Is it true?

FIRST GIRL. Yes, it is true. Even though it can be put into words it is true.

MAN [_starts to rise, sinks to knees again_]. Yes. I see that it is true. But go away.

FIRST GIRL [_crouching behind bush again_]. Ah!

[_Life crosses the stage, with a whip of many thongs driving a
huddled throng of half crouching men and women. They kneel and
kiss his robe. His mouth is wide and grinning, his eyes slant, his
nostrils are thick. He is hideous._]

LIFE. You! Give me your ideals. Three ideals! Is that all you have?

YOUNG MAN. Life has robbed me of my ideals.

WORKMAN. He robbed me too.

YOUNG MAN. But I had so few.

WORKMAN. When you have toiled to possess more, he will take those from you also.

LIFE [_to an old woman_]. For twelve hours you shall toil at what you hate. For an hour you shall work at what you love, to keep the wound fresh, to make the torture keener.

OLD MAN. Ah, pity! Do not be so cruel! Let me forget the work I love!

LIFE. Dog! Take what I give you! It is not by begging that you may win anything from me!

A VOICE. Give me a dream! A dream to strengthen my hands!

ANOTHER VOICE. A little love to make the day less terrible!

THIRD VOICE. Only rest, a little rest! Time to think of the sea, and of grasses blowing in the wind.

A WOMAN. Master!

[_Life lashes her with his whip. The woman screams. Life draws
back from them, and dances a mocking dance, dancing himself into
greater fury, laughing terribly, he lashes out at them. Several
fall dead. He chokes a cripple with his hands. Finally he drives
them off the stage before him, several furtively dragging the
bodies with them._]

SECOND GIRL [_as the two emerge from their hiding place_]. Oh! I wish never to see his face as they saw it!

FIRST GIRL. You will not, unless you kneel--never kneel, little queen.

SECOND GIRL. I shall never kneel to Life. I shall stand upright, as you have taught me, and I shall say, "Bring me another necklace, Life--"

FIRST GIRL. I must go now for a little while. I shall come back. Do not forget. [_She goes out._]

SECOND GIRL. I shall say--

[_Life's voice is heard off stage. Second Girl cowers. Life
enters._]

SECOND GIRL. Slave! I would have the chain with the red stone! [_As Life submissively approaches, she snatches it from his neck._] And this!

[_Snatching at his hand and pulling the ring from a finger. The
slave bows. She happens to look toward the spot where the bodies
were, and shivers._]

LIFE [_raising his head in time to see the look of horror. From this moment his aspect gradually changes until from the slave he becomes a tyrant_]. Are you afraid of me?

SECOND GIRL. No.

LIFE. There are many who are afraid of me.

SECOND GIRL. You are a slave.

LIFE. There are many who are afraid.

SECOND GIRL. You are only a slave.

LIFE. A slave may become a master.

SECOND GIRL. No.

LIFE. I may become--

SECOND GIRL. You are my slave.

LIFE. If I were your master--

SECOND GIRL. You are a slave.

LIFE. If I were your master, I would be kind to you. You are beautiful.

SECOND GIRL. Ah!

LIFE. You are very beautiful.

SECOND GIRL. It is my crown that makes me beautiful.

LIFE. If you should take your crown from your head, you would still be beautiful.

SECOND GIRL. That I will not do.

LIFE. You are beautiful as the slight burning of the apple-petal's cheek when the sun glances at the great flowers near it. You are beautiful as the little pool far in the forest which holds lily-buds in its hands. You are beautiful--

SECOND GIRL [_aside_]. I think he wants me to be afraid, so I will say it. I have heard that men are like that. I am not afraid, but I will say it to please him.

LIFE. Are you afraid of me?

SECOND GIRL. Yes.

LIFE. Are you afraid?

SECOND GIRL. Yes, I am afraid.

LIFE. Ah, that pleases me.

SECOND GIRL [_aside_]. I knew that I would be able to please him! Whatever I make into words makes itself into my body, she said, like fear--but she does not know everything! It is impossible that she should know everything! And it is so pleasant to please him--And so easy! I am not afraid of him. I have only _said_ that I am afraid.

LIFE. Will you not take your crown from your head?

SECOND GIRL. No.

LIFE. There is nothing so beautiful as a woman's hair flying in the wind. I can see your hair beneath your crown. Your hair would be beautiful flying in the wind.

SECOND GIRL [_removes crown_]. It is only for a moment.

LIFE. Yes, you are beautiful.

SECOND GIRL [_to herself_]. It may be that I was not wise--

LIFE. You are like a new flower opening, and dazzling a passing bird with sudden color.

SECOND GIRL. She said that I must not--

LIFE. You are like the bird that passes. Your hair lifts like winks in the sun.

SECOND GIRL. He has not harmed me.

LIFE. Your crown is like jewels gathered from old galleons beneath the sea. May I see your crown?

SECOND GIRL [_holds it out cautiously toward him, then changes her mind_]. No--

LIFE. Let me hold it in my fingers. I shall give it back to you.

SECOND GIRL. No.

LIFE. I shall give it back.

SECOND GIRL. If you will surely give it back to me--

LIFE [_takes crown_]. But your hair is lovelier without a crown. [_Flings it from him._]

SECOND GIRL. What have you done?

LIFE. It was only in jest.

SECOND GIRL. But you promised--

LIFE. In jest.

SECOND GIRL. But--

LIFE. Ho-ho! Laugh with me. What a jest!

SECOND GIRL [_laughs, then shivers_].

LIFE [_in high good humor with himself_]. Dance for me. You are young. You are happy. Dance!

SECOND GIRL. What shall my dance say?

LIFE. That it is Spring, and that there are brooks flowing, newly awakened and mad to be with the sea. That there is a white bud widening under the moon, and in a curtained room a young girl sleeping. That the sun has wakened her--

SECOND GIRL [_dances these things. At first she is afraid of him, then she forgets and dances with abandon_]. And now give me back my crown.

LIFE. You do not need a crown, pretty one.

SECOND GIRL. I am afraid of you!

LIFE. Afraid of me! What have I done?

SECOND GIRL. I do not know.

LIFE. Do not be afraid.

SECOND GIRL. I am afraid.

LIFE. I shall be a kind master to you.

SECOND GIRL. Master?

LIFE. A kind master.

SECOND GIRL. You are my slave.

LIFE. I shall never be your slave again.

SECOND GIRL. And if she were right? If it is true?

LIFE. What are you saying?

SECOND GIRL. Nothing--

LIFE. You must call me master.

SECOND GIRL. No. That I will not do.

LIFE [_leering at her_]. Call me master. Then I shall be kind to you.

SECOND GIRL. No. I can not.

LIFE [_picks up his whip from the path, toying with the whip but laughing at her_]. Then I shall be kind.

SECOND GIRL. Master--

LIFE. It has a good sound.

SECOND GIRL. You will give me--

LIFE. Greedy one! Be grateful that I do not punish you.

SECOND GIRL. You would not strike me?

LIFE. If you do not obey--

SECOND GIRL [_whispering_]. You would not strike--

LIFE. You must kneel.

SECOND GIRL [_repeating_]. Never kneel, little queen--

LIFE. You must kneel to me.

SECOND GIRL. No.

LIFE [_raising the whip as if to strike_]. On your knees! Slave!

SECOND GIRL. You were kind! Life, you were kind! You said beautiful words to me.

LIFE. Kneel.

SECOND GIRL. You would be always kind, you said--

LIFE. Will you obey?

SECOND GIRL. I shall never--

[_Life curls his whip around her shoulders._]

SECOND GIRL [_screams_]. Do not flog me. I will kneel. [_Kneels_.]

LIFE. So? In that way I can win obedience.

SECOND GIRL. Master!

LIFE. It has a good sound.

SECOND GIRL. Pity! Have pity!

LIFE. Do not whine. [_Kicks her._]

SECOND GIRL [_rises staggering_]. Spare me!

LIFE. I shall beat you, for the cries of those who fear me are sweet in my ears. [_Beats her._]

SECOND GIRL. Master!

LIFE [_flinging aside whip_]. But sweeter yet are stilled cries--[_He seizes her, they struggle._]

SECOND GIRL. He is too strong--I can struggle no longer!

[_They struggle. Life chokes her to death and flings her body from
him. Then laughing horribly he goes off the stage._]

FIRST GIRL [_enters skipping merrily. Singing_].

Heigho, in April,
Heigho, heigho,
All the town in April
Is gay, is gay!

[_She plucks rose from bush._]

Heigho, in April,
In merry, merry April,
Love came a-riding
And of a sunny day
I met him on the way!
Heigho, in April,
Heigho, heigho--

[_Suddenly seeing the body, she breaks the song, and stares
without moving. Then she goes very slowly toward it, smooths down
the dead girl's dress, and kneels beside the body. Whispers._]

She was young ... he was cruel.... [_Touches the body._] She also was a queen. She snatched his trinkets. See, there on her dead neck is his chain with the red fire caught in gold. And on her finger his ring. But he was too strong ... too strong.... [_She stands, trembles, cowering in terror._] Life has broken her.... Life has broken them all.... Some day.... I am afraid....

[_Life enters, still the ugly tyrant. She remains cowering. His
eyes rove slowly over the stage, but she sees him a second before
he discovers her. She straightens up just in time to be her
scornful self before his eyes light upon her. As she speaks Life
becomes the slave again._]

FIRST GIRL [_carelessly flings rose down without seeing that it has fallen upon the body_]. Life! Bring me a fresh rose!

[_The slave bows abjectly and goes to do her bidding._]

[_Curtain._]

THE SLUMP

A PLAY

BY FREDERIC L. DAY

Copyright, 1920, by Frederic L. Day.
All rights reserved.

The Slump was first produced February 5, 1920, by "The 47 Workshop"
with the following cast:

FLORENCE MADDEN _Miss Ruth Chorpenning_.
JAMES MADDEN _Mr. Walton Butterfield_.
EDWARD MIX _Mr. W. B. Leach, Jr_.

Permission to reprint, or for amateur or professional performances
of any kind must first be obtained from "The 47 Workshop," Harvard
College, Cambridge, Mass. Moving picture rights reserved.

TIME: _The Present. About four o'clock on a Saturday afternoon in
December._

THE SLUMP

A PLAY BY FREDERIC L. DAY

[SCENE: _A dingy room showing the very worst of contemporary lower
middle-class American taste. The dining table in the center is of
"golden oak"; and a sideboard at the left, a morris chair at the
right and front, and three dining-room chairs (one of which is in
the left rear corner, the others at the table) are all of this
same finish. The paper on the walls is at once tawdry and faded. A
tarnished imitation brass gas jet is suspended from the right
wall, just over the morris chair. In the back wall and to the left
is a door leading outside. Another door, in the left wall, leads
to the rest of the house. A low, rather dirty window in the back
wall, to the right of the center, looks out on a muddy river with
the dispiriting houses of a small, grimy manufacturing city
beyond. On the back wall are one or two old-fashioned engravings
with sentimental subjects, and several highly-colored photographs
of moving picture stars, each of them somewhat askew. A few
pictures on the other walls are mostly cheap prints cut out of the
rotogravure section of the Sunday paper. In the right-hand rear
corner is an air-tight stove. The whole room has an appearance of
hopeless untidiness and slovenliness. Close by the morris chair,
at its right, is a phonograph on a stand. Outside it is a dull
gray day. The afternoon light is already beginning to wane._

_As the curtain rises, James Madden is sitting behind the table in
the center of the room. He is a rather small man of thirty-five,
his hair just beginning to turn gray at the temples. Spectacles, a
peering manner, and the sallow pallor of his face all suggest the
man of a sedentary mode of life. His clothes are faded and of a
poor cut, but brushed and neat. There is something ineffectual but
distinctly appealing about the little man. Madden is working on a
pile of bills which are strewn over the top of the table. He picks
up a bill, looks at it, and draws in his under lip with an
expression of dismay. He writes down the amount of the bill on a
piece of paper, below six or seven other rows of figures. He looks
at another bill, and his expression becomes even more
distracted._]

MADDEN [_with exasperation_]. Oh!

[_He brings his fist down on the table with a limp whack, then
turns and looks helplessly toward the door at the left. After a
moment this door starts to open. Madden turns quickly to the
front, trying to compose his face and busying himself with the
bills. The door continues to open, and Mrs. Madden now issues from
it lazily. She is thirty-two years old, and a good half head
taller than her husband. Where he is thin and bony, she has
already begun to lose her figure. Her yellow hair, the color of
molasses kisses, is at once greasy and untidy, and seems ready to
come to pieces. Her face is beginning to lose its contour--the
uninspired face of a lower middle-class woman who has once been
pretty in a rather cheap way. She is sloppily dressed in showy
purple silk. Her skirt is short, and she wears brand new, high,
shiny, mahogany-colored boots. She has powdered her nose._]

MRS. MADDEN [_uninterestedly, in a slow, flat, nasal voice_]. How long y' been home? Yer pretty late f'r Sat'rdy.

MADDEN [_still looking down and trying to control his feelings_]. The head bookkeeper kept me, checkin' up the mill pay roll. I been here [_consulting his watch_] just seven minutes.

MRS. MADDEN [_yawning_]. Thanks. Yer s' darn acc'rate, Jim. I didn' really wanta know.

[_He looks at another bill and writes down the amount on the same
piece of paper as before, keeping his head averted so that she may
not see his face._]

MRS. MADDEN. Jim. [_With lazy self-satisfaction._] Look up an' glimpse yer wifey in 'r new boots. [_She draws up her skirts sufficiently to show the boots._]

[_He looks up unwillingly and makes a movement of exasperation._]

MADDEN. Oh, Florrie!

MRS. MADDEN. W'at's a matter? Don'choo like 'em?

MADDEN. You didn't need another pair, Florrie.

MRS. MADDEN [_on the defensive_]. Y' wouldn' have me look worse 'n one o' these furriners, would y'? There's Mrs. Montanio nex' door; she's jus' got a pair o' mahogany ones an' a pair o' lemon colored ones. An' _her_ husban's on'y a "slasher."

MADDEN. Slashers get a big sight more pay than under bookkeepers these days, Florrie.

MRS. MADDEN [_persuasively_]. Got 'em at a bargain, anyways. Jus' think, Jim. On'y twelve, an' they _was_ sixteen. [_Madden groans audibly. She changes the subject hastily._] W'at's a news down town?

MADDEN [_seriously_]. Florrie-- [_He hesitates and then seems to change his mind. He relaxes and speaks wearily, trying to affect an off-hand manner._] Nothin' much. [_Struck by an unpleasant recollection._] Comin' home by Market Wharf I saw 'em pull a woman out o' the river.

MRS. MADDEN [_interested_]. Y' don' say, Jim. Was she dead?

MADDEN [_nervously_]. I ... I don't know. I didn't stop. [_He passes his hand across his face with a sudden gesture of horror._] You know, Florrie, I hate things like that!

MRS. MADDEN. Well--y' poor boob! Not t' find out if she was dead!

[_She gives an impatient shrug of the shoulders and passes behind
him, going over to the back window and looking out aimlessly.
Madden picks up another bill, regarding it malevolently. After a
moment she turns carelessly toward him._]

MRS. MADDEN. Jim. [_He does not look up._] Say, Jim. I'm awful tired o' cookin'. There ain't a thing t' eat in th' house. Le's go down t' Horseman's f'r a lobster supper t'night, an' then take in a real show. Mrs. Montanio's tol' me--

MADDEN [_interrupting very gravely_]. Florrie. [_He rises to his feet._]

MRS. MADDEN [_continuing without a pause_]. There's an awful comical show down t' th' Hyperion. Regal'r scream, they say. Mrs. Montanio--

MADDEN [_breaking in_]. Florrie, there's somethin' I got to say to you.

MRS. MADDEN [_a little sulky_]. I got lots I'd like t' say t' _you_. On'y I ain't sayin' it.

MADDEN [_more quietly_]. I wasn't goin' to say it now ... not 'till I finished goin' through these. [_He makes a gesture toward the bills._] But when I saw your new shoes, an' specially when you spoke o' goin' out to-night....

MRS. MADDEN. Well, why shouldn' I? I got t' have _some_ fun.

MADDEN [_keeping his self-control_]. Look here, Florrie. D'you know what I was doin' when you came in?

MRS. MADDEN. I didn't notice. Figgerin' somethin', I s'pose. Y' always are.

MADDEN. This mornin' at the office I got called to the phone. The Excelsior Shoe Comp'ny said you cashed a check there yesterday for fifteen dollars. Said you bought a pair o' shoes ... those, I suppose [_He looks at her feet. She turns away sulkily._] ... an' had some money left over. Check came back to 'em this mornin' from the bank.--"No funds."

MRS. MADDEN [_with righteous but lazy indignation_]. How'd I know there wasn't no money in th' bank?

MADDEN. If you kept your check book up to date you'd know.

MRS. MADDEN. W'at right they got not t' cash my check?

MADDEN [_still controlling himself_]. The bank don't let you overdraw any more. [_He glances back at the bills._] D'you know, I'm wonderin' why you didn't charge those boots.

MRS. MADDEN. I ain't got any account at th' Excelsior.

MADDEN. I guess it's the only place in town you haven't got one.--You don't seem to remember what salary I get.

MRS. MADDEN. Sure--I know. Ninety-five a month. Y' know mighty well I'm ashamed o' you f'r not gettin' more. Mrs. Montanio's husban'--

MADDEN [_breaking in_]. Hang the Montanios! [_More quietly._] Don't you see what I'm gettin' at? Here it is the twelfth o' December; you know my pay don't come in till the end o' the month; an' here you go an' draw all our money out o' the bank ... an' more. [_Turning toward the table._] An' _look_ at these bills!

MRS. MADDEN. James Madden, I like t' know w'at right you got t' talk t' me like that.

MADDEN [_thoughtfully_]. I've always argued it's the woman's job to run the house. [_He walks around the table from front to rear, passing to its left, and looking down at the bills. With conviction._] It's no use!--I don't just see how we're goin' to get out of this mess; but I do know one thing. [_Advancing toward her from the rear of the table._] After this _I'm_ goin' to spend our money, even if I have to buy your dresses.

MRS. MADDEN [_with rising anger_]. If you say I've been extrav'gant, James Madden, yer a plain liar!

MADDEN [_biting his lip and stepping back a pace_]. Easy, Florrie!--I know you don't mean that, or--

MRS. MADDEN [_interrupting viciously_]. I do!

MADDEN [_persuasively_]. Look here, Florrie. We got to work this out together. There's no use gettin' mad. Prob'ly you aren't extravagant--really. Just considerin' the size o' my salary.

MRS. MADDEN. A pig couldn' live decent on _your_ salary!

MADDEN. Other folks seem to get on, even in these times. What would you do if we had kids?

MRS. MADDEN. Thank the Lord we ain't got _them_ t' think about.

MADDEN [_shocked_]. Florence!

MRS. MADDEN. Well, I guess anybody'd be glad not t' have kids with _you_ f'r a husban'. Y' don't earn enough money t' keep a cat--let alone kids! An' jus' t' think they'd be like you!

MADDEN [_more surprised than angry_]. Florence--you're talking like a street woman.

MRS. MADDEN. Oh, I am, am I? Well, I guess you treat me like a street woman. Y' don' deserve t' have a wife.

MADDEN. Well, I don't guess I do. Not one like you!

MRS. MADDEN. That's right! That's right! You don' know how t' treat a lady.

MADDEN [_controlling himself_]. Look here, Florrie. Don't let's get all het up over this.

MRS. MADDEN. Who's gettin' het up? [_Bursting past him toward the door at the left._] I wish t' God you was a gen'leman!

MADDEN. Florrie--_don't_!

MRS. MADDEN [_turning on him from the other side of the table_]. W'y don't y' go out an' dig in th' ditch? Y'd earn a damn sight more money th'n--

MADDEN [_with angry impatience_]. You _know_ I'm not strong enough.

MRS. MADDEN. Bony little shrimp! Not even pep enough t' have kids!

MADDEN [_beside himself_]. Florence! [_Going toward her._] I'm goin' to tell you some things I never thought I would. You're just a plain, common, selfish, vulgar woman! You don't care one penny for anybody except yourself. You an' your clothes an' your movies an' your sodas an' your candy! [_Mrs. Madden is glowering at him across the table. She is beginning to weep with rage.--Two or three times she opens her mouth as if to speak, but each time he cuts her short._] Look at the way you been leavin' this house lately. [_He makes an inclusive gesture toward the room._] The four years I've lived with you would drive a saint to Hell! [_Mrs. Madden marches furiously by him and over to her hat and coat, which are hanging from pegs at the right, just in front of the stove._] I wish I'd never seen you!

MRS. MADDEN [_getting her coat and hat_]. D' y' think I'm goin' t' stay in this house t' be talked to like that? [_Putting on her hat viciously._] D' y' think I'm goin' t' stand that kind of a thing? [_Putting on her coat.--Sobbing angrily._] I guess ... you'll be ... pretty sorry when I've ... gone. [_Coming closer to him on her way to the outside door._] If ... if I _did_ somethin' ... if somethin' ... _happened_ t' me ... I guess you ... you wouldn't never ... f'give yerself! [_She is at the door._]

MADDEN. I don't worry about you. [_She turns on him at the door._] You wouldn't do anything like that. You're too _yellow_!

MRS. MADDEN [_at the door. Sobbing, in a fury_]. You'll ... see!

[_With one last glare at him, she turns, opens the door and goes
outside, slamming the door behind her. Madden stares after her,
almost beside himself. He takes several steps across the room,
then crosses and recrosses it, trying to regain control of
himself. Little by little his anger fades; the energy goes out of
his pacing, and finally he approaches the table and sits down in
his old place with a hopeless droop of the shoulders. He takes up
another bill and looks at its amount helplessly, finally writing
it down on the same piece of paper as before. He starts to add up
the total of the bills he has already set down on the piece of
paper. His hand moves mechanically. Suddenly a shadow crosses his
face, as an idea begins to form itself in his mind. He looks
straight ahead, his eyes opening wide with horror. With a sudden
movement he springs up from the table and goes quickly to the
window, where he looks out anxiously at the river. He turns back
into the room, and passes his hand across his face with the same
gesture of horror he used earlier in speaking to Mrs. Madden of
the woman who had fallen into the river._]

MADDEN. Ugh!

[_He returns to the table, his face dark with the fear that has
seized him. At the table, he stands a moment, thinking. Once again
he passes his hand across his forehead with the same gesture of
horrified fear. He drops into the chair behind the table, still
thoughtful. After a moment his face clears, and he shakes his head
with an expression of disbelief. He bends again over the bills,
and once more takes up his work of going over them. From outside
comes the faint sound of some one whistling "Tell Me." Gradually
the whistle grows louder and louder, as if the whistler were
coming nearer up the street. There is a sharp rap at the door.
Madden starts violently, and, jumping up, he goes quickly to the
door. He opens it eagerly and slumps with obvious disappointment
as Edgar Mix enters breezily. Mix is about twenty-five; a loosely
put together, thin faced youth in a new suit of readymade clothes
which are of too blatant a pattern and much too extreme a cut to
be in really good taste. He is whistling the refrain of "Tell
Me."_]

MIX [_as he passes_]. H'llo, James. [_Without stopping for an answer, he crosses the room and starts to remove his hat and coat._] Where's the sister?

MADDEN [_he has closed the door. Dully._] She's gone out.

[_As if struck by an idea, Madden reopens the door and goes
outside. He can be seen, looking first to the left, then to the
right, and finally down at the river before him. Mix finishes
taking off his outer garments, which he hangs with a flourish on
pegs near the stove. He is still whistling the same refrain._]

MIX. W'at's a matter with you? Tryin' t' freeze me out? [_His voice has the same flat quality as his sister's, but it is full of energy._]

[_Madden does not appear to hear him. He now comes back into the
house, shutting the door behind him. His face is anxious, a fact
he tries to hide._]

MADDEN. Did you want to see Florence? [_Mix pauses in his whistling._]

MIX. Sure. Nothin' important, though. Just about a little party she said you an' she was goin' t' take me on t'night. [_He commences whistling cheerily the opening bars of his refrain._]

MADDEN [_dully_]. Sorry. I don't know anythin' about it.

[_Mix stops whistling suddenly and looks down with dismay. Then,
with his hands in his pockets, he slowly whistles the four
descending notes at the end of the third bar and the beginning of
the fourth. He stops and shakes his head, then slowly whistles a
few more bars of the refrain, starting where he just left off, and
letting himself drop into the morris chair on the descending note
in the fifth bar. After another brief silence he finishes the
refrain, but with a sudden return of the same quick, light mood in
which he entered. The refrain over, he begins again at the
beginning and whistles two or three more bars. Madden has
meanwhile sat down at the table and is again going over the
bills._]

MIX. Jim--ever get a piece runnin' in yer head so y' can't get it out? [_Madden is looking vacantly down at the bills._] I s'pose I been w'istlin' that tune steady f'r three whole weeks. [_He whistles three or four more bars of the same refrain._] Like it? [_Madden does not appear to have heard him._] P'raps Florrie's got th' record f'r that on th' phornograph. Has she, Jim? It ain't been out long.

MADDEN [_impatiently_]. Oh, I don't know, Ed.

MIX [_after whistling very softly a bar or two more_]. I see some girl fell in the river.

MADDEN [_startled_]. What?

MIX. Yep. They was tryin' t' make her come to. No use. She was a goner all right.

MADDEN [_rising from his chair. Trying to control himself._] Where was this?

MIX. Oh, not s' far below here. Saw her m'self, I did.

MADDEN [_with increasing fear. Taking a step or two toward Mix._] Did you see her face?

MIX. Nope. Somethin' 'd struck her face. Y'd hardly know she was a woman, 'cept f'r her clothes.

MADDEN [_wildly. Coming closer_]. How long ago?

MIX. W'at y' gettin' s' het up about? [_Madden is almost frantic._] Oh ... 'bout 'n hour.

[_Madden relaxes suddenly. The reaction is almost too much for
him. He slowly goes back to the table._]

MADDEN [_nervously_]. Oh ... down by Market Wharf?

MIX. Sure. Did y' see her? [_Madden sits down heavily._]

MADDEN. Uhuh.

[_For a second or two there is silence. Madden rearranges the
bills in front of him. Mix lolls in the armchair, whistling very
softly._]

MADDEN. Ed.

MIX. Uhuh.

MADDEN. Would you call Florrie a ... a ... well one o' them high-strung girls?

MIX. Gosh, no!

MADDEN. You don't think she'd be the sort to fly off the handle an' do ... well, somethin' desp'rate?

MIX. Come off. You know's well's I do, Florrie's nothin' but a big jelly fish.

MADDEN. Ed--I don't want you to talk that way about Florrie. You don't 'preciate her.

MIX. Well, w'at's bitin' _you_? W'at y' askin' all these questions f'r, anyways?

MADDEN [_dully_]. Oh, nothin'.

[_Madden looks down uneasily at the bills, but without giving them
any real attention. Mix yawns and lazily shifts his position in
the armchair._]

MADDEN. Ed--I do want to ask you somethin'.

MIX [_indifferently_]. Shoot.

MADDEN. I want you to tell the truth about this, Ed. Even if you think it will hurt my feelings. It won't.

MIX. Spit it out.

MADDEN. Just what sort of a chap do you think I am?

MIX [_considering_]. Huh! That's easy. D' y' really wanta know w'at I think?

MADDEN [_gravely_]. I cert'nly do.

MIX. Well--if you really wanta know, I think yer a damn good kid [_Madden looks suddenly grateful_] ... but a bit weak on th' pep.

MADDEN [_a trifle dubiously_]. Thanks. [_Thoughtfully._] You don't think I'm unfair?

MIX. Unfair? Why, no. How d' y' mean?

MADDEN. Well ... here in the house, f'r instance.

MIX. Lord, no, Jim! Yer s' easy goin' it'd be a holy shame f'r any one t' slip anythin' over on y'. [_After a short pause. Suspiciously._] W'at y' askin' all these questions f'r, anyways?

MADDEN. Oh--nothin'.

MIX [_struck with an idea.--Starting up from his chair_]. _I_ know w'at's bitin' you. You an' Florrie's had a row. [_He walks up to Madden and taps his arm familiarly with the back of his hand._] Come on. Own up! [_He passes around behind Madden until he stands behind the chair at the left of the table._]

MADDEN. Well ... we did have a ... a sort of a ... disagreement.

MIX. I bet y' did. Look here, Jim. W'at's a use o' takin' it s' hard?

MADDEN [_gravely_]. The trouble is----[_He breaks off_] I guess I was mostly in the wrong.

MIX [_sitting down vehemently_]. Tell that to a poodle! I know you an' I know Florrie. I guess I know who'd be in the wrong, all right. She was bad enough w'en y' firs' got sweet on 'r--jus' a lazy fool, ev'n if she did have a pretty face. Gee, how you did fall f'r her face! Moonin' round an' sayin' how _wonderful_ she was! [_He chuckles._] An' Florrie twenty-eight years old ... an' jus' waitin' t' fall into yer arms.

MADDEN. Ed--don't say things like that, even in fun.

MIX. Hell! It's the truth.... But lately Florrie's jus' plain slumped. She's nothin' now but a selfish, lazy pig.

MADDEN [_angrily_]. I won't have you talk that way about Florrie. She's made me a good wife ... on the whole. She don't go trapesin' off like some o' your fly by nights. She's affection'te ... an' good tempered ... an'----[_Mix is grinning incredulously._]

MIX. Rats! Yer havin' a damn hard time t' say anythin' real nice about 'r. I wouldn' stretch th' truth s' far 's _that_ [_snapping his fingers._] f'r her, ev'n if she is m' sister.

MADDEN [_vehemently_]. Ed--if you can't talk decently about a nice girl like Florrie, I guess you better get out.

MIX [_slowly rising from his chair_]. Well I'll be damned! All right, I _will_ go.... Yer crazy, Jim!

MADDEN [_rising and putting a restraining arm on Mix's shoulder. Nervously_]. Don't mind me, Ed. I didn't really mean what I said. I'm all upset.

MIX. Sh'd think y' were. [_After a slight hesitation, he sits down again._] W'at y' quarrelin' 'bout? Money?

MADDEN [_sitting down again_]. Uhuh.

MIX. Huh! Thought as much.... As I was sayin', I know Florrie.

MADDEN. It really wasn't her fault.

MIX [_slowly and emphatically_]. Well, you are sappy. Ever'body knows Florrie spends more money th'n you an' all my family put t'gether.

MADDEN. You wouldn't have me deny her _ev'rythin'_?... She's got to have _some_ fun.

MIX. But, Lord, man, y' don't earn th' income of a John D. Rockefeller.

MADDEN [_somberly_]. I know.... I ought to do much better. But that isn't _her_ fault. Besides, she's learned her lesson.

MIX. Well, I'll be damned! T' hear you talk this way. O' course, y' kep' yer mouth pretty well shut. But we all figgered you was havin' th' devil's own time with Florrie!

MADDEN [_rising from his seat. With deep feeling_]. Ed----[_He turns and goes over to the window, looks out and then faces around_]. I never knew ... till just now ... how fond I was of her.

[_Mix regards him with a puzzled expression. Madden begins to walk
up and down the floor, at first slowly and thoughtfully, then more
and more nervously. The light outside begins to fade._]

MIX [_after a pause. Looking up at Madden_]. Jim. Y' never c'n tell w'at these women 're goin' t' do--can yer?

MADDEN [_stopping abruptly. Intensely_]. I s'pose not, Ed. [_He goes on a few steps and then stops again._] Even ... even when they're not ... high strung.

[_Madden continues his nervous pacing of the floor. Mix watches
him with increasing annoyance._]

MADDEN [_suddenly_]. Was that a footstep?

[_Mix shakes his head. Madden goes quickly to the window and looks
out. From there he rushes to the door and peers out, first to one
side and then to the other. He shuts the door, and with a hopeless
look on his face comes back into the room. Outside the light is
steadily fading._]

MIX [_slowly rising from his chair, a look of still greater annoyance on his face_]. I guess Florrie ain't comin' f'r some time. I'll be goin'. [_He goes over toward his coat and hat._]

MADDEN [_nervously_]. Why don't you drop into Smith's soda parlor? That's where she always is, this time o' the afternoon.

MIX. She ain't there, I don't guess.... I jus' come from there m'self.

MADDEN [_intensely_]. You did?

MIX. Sure.

MADDEN [_wildly_]. Ed--I can't stand this waitin' f'r her any more. [_He goes quickly and gets his hat and coat from a peg near the stove._] I'm goin' out.

[_Madden goes swiftly across the room to the door at the back and
goes out. He is seen to pass outside in front of the back window.
Mix takes a few involuntary steps after him toward the door, then
stops and gives a low whistle of astonishment. After a moment he
turns and starts back toward his hat and coat._]

MIX [_half aloud_]. Poor ol' Jim.

[_He gets his hat and coat, and puts them on. In the course of a
few seconds the reflective look has gone from his face; he begins
to whistle softly the same refrain as before. From his pocket
he produces a cigarette, which he places in his mouth. He is
preparing to light it when a thought strikes him. He goes quickly
over to the phonograph and, bending down, takes a record and
examines it. It has become so dark that he is unable to read the
title; so he lights the neighboring gas jet. He then examines two
or three records in quick succession, finally producing one which
causes a smile to spread over his face._]

MIX. Ah!

[_He places his find on the phonograph, winds the machine, and
starts his record playing. The tune is the same one he has been
whistling the whole afternoon. With an expression of great
pleasure he hears the record start, at the same time producing a
huge nickel watch from his pocket and glancing at it casually. As
he sees the time, his whole expression changes._]

MIX [_throwing his cigarette impatiently on the floor_]. Hell!

[_He stops the phonograph and tilts back the playing arm. He
buttons up his overcoat, turns up his collar and adjusts his hat.
Then, his whistle suddenly breaking out again loudly into his
favorite refrain, he marches quickly across the room to the door
at the back, and goes out. He is seen to pass by the window, and
his whistling is heard to die away gradually down the street._

_Stillness has hardly fallen when the door at the back opens, and
Mrs. Madden enters. She appears a trifle chilly, but seems
otherwise to have recovered her composure. Closing the door behind
her, she comes forward lazily to the table. She looks down at the
piles of bills before her with a perfectly vacant stare, and
taking from her pocket a pound box of candy she tosses it down on
the papers. She opens the cover and extracts a large chocolate
cream, which she eats indolently and with evident pleasure. Next,
she removes her hat and coat, throwing them carelessly on the
table beside the candy. She walks, with a lazy, flat-footed step,
over to the gas jet at the right, and turns up the gas
sufficiently for reading. Looking down, she notices the record
left on the phonograph._]

MRS. MADDEN [_with slow pleasure_]. Hm!

[_Without bothering to find out whether or not the phonograph is
wound up, she starts it going and places the playing arm with
apparent carelessness so that the record begins playing about a
third of the way through. She listens to the music for three or
four seconds with an expression of indolent appreciation, then she
crosses the floor to the door at the left, always moving with the
same flat-footed walk. Opening the door, she peers through it._]

MRS. MADDEN [_calling, her flat voice rising above the sound of the phonograph_]. Oh Ji--im!

[_She listens a moment for an answer; but as there is none, she
closes the door and turns around. Once again the music catches and
holds her attention. She listens for an instant and then goes back
to the table, making a heavy attempt at a dance step or two. From
the pocket of her overcoat she extracts a new cheap novel, whose
content is well advertised by a lurid colored cover. This she
takes over to the morris chair. Another thought strikes her; she
tosses the novel into the chair and goes back to the table, where
she gets five or six chocolate creams from the candy box,
depositing them in a row on the right arm of the morris chair.
Then she takes up her book and sits down. For a moment she tries
to read, but all is not comfortable yet. She changes her position
two or three times in the chair. At last she rises, heaving a
disgusted sigh. Dropping her book into the chair she walks with
flat, heavy steps across the room and out of the door at the left,
leaving it open. She returns almost instantly, dragging two greasy
looking sofa pillows after her. She kicks the door to, and crosses
to the morris chair. Here she places one of the pillows on the
ground for her feet, the other at the back of the chair. Picking
up her book once more, she settles back into the chair with an
expression of perfect animal contentment. She puts another
chocolate cream in her mouth, and finds her place in the book.
Then the music again engages her attention; she leans back with a
foolish smile on her face as she listens. Constantly chewing the
piece of candy, she hums a bar or two of the tune which is still
being played by the phonograph. Then she settles down to her
reading, eating candy as she feels inclined. The phonograph
reaches the end of the record and makes that annoying clicking
noise which shows it should be shut off. For two or three seconds
Mrs. Madden pays no attention to it. Finally she raises herself in
the chair, and without getting up she reaches over and switches
off the phonograph, then settles back again to her reading._

_Some one goes swiftly by the window outside. After a moment the
door at the back opens, and Madden stands in the doorway._]

MADDEN [_in the doorway, catching sight of Mrs. Madden. With pathetic eagerness_]. _Florrie!_ [_He closes the door._]

MRS. MADDEN [_without looking up. In lazy, matter of fact tones_]. 'Lo, Jim.

MADDEN [_coming forward toward his wife_]. Are you _really_ safe, Florrie?

[_She looks up with a glance of feeble annoyance._]

MRS. MADDEN. Sure. I'm all right. [_She looks down again._]

MADDEN [_coming still closer_]. Oh, I'm so _thankful_!... I ... I been lookin' for you, Florrie.--Where you been?

MRS. MADDEN [_without looking up_]. Wat d' y' say?

MADDEN. Where you been, Florrie? [_With even greater anxiety._] You didn't go down by the river?

MRS. MADDEN [_looking up_]. Lord no! W'atev'r made y' think that? [_She takes up a chocolate cream and bites off half of it._] I jus' took Mrs. Montanio over t' Brailey's new place f'r a couple o' ice cream sodas. [_She looks down again._]

MADDEN [_softly_]. Oh. [_A shadow passes over his face and vanishes._] Florrie. [_He sits down on the left arm of the morris chair and puts his arm affectionately about her shoulders._] I didn't know what I was sayin'.

MRS. MADDEN [_puzzled. Without looking up_]. W'at y' talkin' 'bout?

MADDEN [_pathetically_]. I guess I ought not to ask you to forgive me.

MRS. MADDEN [_looking up_]. F'give y'? [_Remembering._] Oh, yes--y' _did_ call me some darn hard names.

MADDEN. I know. [_Slowly. Looking into her face._] D' you think you _could_ forgive me?

MRS. MADDEN [_lazily_]. Sure. I guess so. Glad t' see y' got over yer pet.

[_He smiles a pathetic, eager smile, and takes her left hand,
which is lying in her lap. With an impatient movement, she
stretches her left arm out and back, carrying his left hand with
it and forcing him off the arm of the chair._]

MRS. MADDEN. Say, Jim--look w'at's on th' table.

[_Madden sighs softly and takes a few steps toward the table. He
sees the candy box; a darker shadow appears on his face for a
second or two, and is gone._]

MRS. MADDEN. Have a chocklick, Jim.

[_She herself picks one up from the arm of the chair; then she
looks down again at her book, eating the candy as she reads._]

MADDEN [_unheeding.--Taking a step or two back toward her from the table. With deep feeling_]. Florrie. I got somethin' I want to tell you. [_She does not look up. He takes another step toward her._] After you'd gone out, I kept thinkin' ... thinkin' what mighta happened to you.

MRS. MADDEN [_with a short chuckle_]. Y' poor boob!

MADDEN. Florrie--look at me. [_She looks up with an expression of lazy annoyance._] Out there--[_He gestures toward the door_] the river looked so cold an' black--An' I couldn't find you-- ... I knew all of a sudden I ... I hadn't really meant what I said to you.

MRS. MADDEN [_impatiently_]. That's all right. [_She looks down again at her book._]

MADDEN [_with increasing emotion. Going to the arm chair and looking down at her tenderly from behind it_]. I kept thinkin' ... thinkin' how pretty an' how ... how good natured you are. [_With some embarrassment._] I thought how we used to walk ... down by the river. Four years ago ... you know--just before we was married.

MRS. MADDEN [_with growing annoyance_]. Don' choo want 'nuther choclick, Jim?

MADDEN [_unheeding_]. Florrie--d'you remember that time ... the first time you let me hold your hand?

MRS. MADDEN [_looking up impatiently_]. W'at's bitin' you? Don't y' see I'm readin'? [_He steps back and to the left a pace or two. She looks down again._]

MADDEN [_humbly_]. Scuse me, Florrie. I just wanted to tell you. [_With great earnestness._] You know, I'd forgotten.... I mean I didn't realize ... till just now--[_Awkwardly._] how fond ... how much I ... I love you.

MRS. MADDEN [_thickly, through a chocolate cream which she is eating. Without looking up._] Tha's ... nice.

[_He looks at her pathetically, waiting, hoping that she will look
up. His face is intense with longing. After a short interval he
gives it up. He turns sadly and goes toward the door at the left,
passing in back of the table._]

MRS. MADDEN [_taking another chocolate and looking after him. He has almost reached the door_]. Jim. [_He stops and turns eagerly._] You ain't such a bad ol' boy. [_His face is suddenly radiant. He takes several steps back toward her, bringing him behind the table. She has looked down at her book again. Coaxingly._] Goin' t' take me t' Horseman's t'night f'r lobster?

[_All the eagerness, the radiance, vanishes from his face.--He
sits down heavily in the chair behind the table. He looks at her,
uncomprehending, hurt, disillusionized._]

MRS. MADDEN [_without looking up_]. An' say--[_She puts another chocolate in her mouth. Speaking through it thickly._] I'm jus' _dyin'_ t' see a real ... comical ... show.

[_Madden's head droops. He looks at his wife dumbly, then back at
the table. His left hand goes out toward the bills; then he drops
both elbows limply on the table, resting his weight on them. Mrs.
Madden does not look up, but continues to read and munch a
chocolate cream. Madden stares in front of him miserably,
hopelessly as_

_The Curtain Falls._]

MANSIONS

A PLAY

BY HILDEGARDE FLANNER

Copyright, 1920, by Hildegarde Flanner.
All rights reserved.

CHARACTERS

HARRIET WILDE.
LYDIA WILDE [_her niece_].
JOE WILDE [_her nephew_].

TIME: _Yesterday_.

MANSIONS is an original play. The editors are indebted to Mr. Sam
Hume for permission to include it in this volume. Applications for
permission to produce this play must be made to Frank Shay, care
Stewart & Kidd Company, Cincinnati, Ohio.

MANSIONS

A PLAY BY HILDEGARDE FLANNER

[_In a small town on the southern border of a Middle-Western
state, stands an old brick house. The town is sufficiently near
the Mason and Dixon line to gather about its ankles the rustle of
ancient petticoats of family pride and to step softly lest the
delicate sounds should be lost in a too noisy world. Even this old
brick house seems reticent of the present, and gazing aloofly from
its arched windows, barely suffers the main street to run past its
gate. Many of the blinds are drawn, as if the dwelling and its
inhabitants preferred to hug to themselves the old strength of the
past rather than to admit the untried things of the present._

_The scene of the play is laid in the living-room. At the back is
a wide door leading into the hallway beyond. At the left are
French doors opening upon steps which might descend into the
garden. At the right side of the room, and opposite the French
doors, is a marble fireplace, while on either side of the
fireplace and a little distant from it, is a tall window. To the
left of the main door is a lounge upholstered in dark flowered
tapestry, and to the right of the door is a mahogany secretary.
Before the secretary and away from the hearth, an old-fashioned
grand piano is placed diagonally, so that any one seated at the
instrument would be partially facing the audience. To the left of
the French doors is a lyre table, on which stands a bowl of
flowers. Above the rear door hangs the portrait of a man._

_When the curtain rises Harriet Wilde is discovered standing
precisely in the middle of her great-grandfather's carpet which is
precisely in the middle of the floor. To Harriet, ancestors are a
passion, the future an imposition. Added to this, she is in her
way, intelligent. Therefore even before she speaks, you who are
observant know that she is a formidable person. Her voice is low,
even, and--what is the adjective? Christian. Yes, Harriet is a
good woman. But don't let that mislead you._]

HARRIET [_calling_]. Lydia!

[_Lydia comes into the room from the garden. In fact, she has been
coming and going for more than fifteen years at the word of her
aunt, although she is now twenty-seven. Her hands appear sensitive
and in some way, deprived and restless. She is dressed in a slim
black gown which could be worn gracefully by no one else, although
Lydia is not aware of this fact. In one hand she carries a pair of
garden shears with handles painted scarlet; in the other, a bright
spray of portulaca; while over her wrist is slung a garden hat.
During their conversation Lydia moves fitfully about the room. Her
manner changes from bitter drollery to a lonely timidness and from
timidness to something akin to sulkiness. Harriet, whether seated
or standing, gives the impression of having been for a long hour
with dignity in the same position. She has no sympathy for Lydia
nor any understanding of her. There is a wall of mistrust between
the two. Both stoop to pick up stones, not to throw, but to build
the wall even higher. Lydia employs by turns an attitude of
cheerful cynicism and one of indifference, both planned to annoy
her aunt, though without real malice. But this has become a
habit._]

HARRIET. What are you doing, Lydia?

LYDIA. I had been trimming the rose hedge along the south garden, Aunt Harriet.

HARRIET. But surely you can find something better to do than that, my dear. [_She cannot help calling people "my dear." It is because she is so superior._] Some one might see in if you trim it too much. We want a bit of privacy in these inquisitive times.

LYDIA. The young plants on the edge of the walk needed sun.

HARRIET. Move the young plants. Don't sacrifice the rose hedge. [_Pausing as she straightens the candle in an old brass candlestick on the mantel._] I--it seems to me that the furniture has been disarranged.

LYDIA. I was changing it a little this morning.

HARRIET. May I ask why?

LYDIA [_eagerly_]. Oh, just--just to be changing. Don't you think it is an improvement?

HARRIET [_coldly_]. It does very well. But I prefer it as it was. You know yourself that this room has never been changed since your grandfather died. [_Piously._] And as long as I am mistress in this house, it shall remain exactly as he liked it.

[_Lydia looks spitefully at the portrait over the rear door._]

HARRIET [_stepping to the window to the left of the fire-place and lowering the curtain to the middle of the frame._] The court house will be done before your brother is well enough to come downstairs, Lydia. How astonished he will be to see it completed.

LYDIA. Yes. But he would much rather watch while it is being done.

HARRIET. Well naturally. But from upstairs you can't see through the leaves of the maple tree. Why, Lydia, there isn't another tree for miles around with such marvelous foliage. Great-grandfather Wilde did not know, when he set out a sapling, that the county court house was to be built--almost in its very shadow.

LYDIA. You always did admire any kind of a family tree.

HARRIET [_as if speaking to an unruly child_]. If Great-grandfather Wilde heard you say that--

LYDIA [_with a sudden flash of spirit which dies almost before she ceases to speak_]. If Great-grandfather Wilde heard me say that. It may be he would have the excellent sense to come back and chop off a limb or two, so that Joe could have sunlight in that little dark room up there, and see out.

HARRIET [_lifting her left hand and letting it sink upon her knee with the air of one who has suffered much, but can suffer more_]. Lydia, my dear child, I am not responsible for your disposition this lovely morning. Moreover, this is a fruitless--

LYDIA. Fruitless, fruitless! _Why_ couldn't he have planted an apple tree? [_Throwing her head back slightly._] With blossoms in the spring and fruit in the summer--

HARRIET. I beg your pardon?

LYDIA [_wearily_]. With blossoms in the spring and fruit in the summer. [_Slowly and gazing toward the window._] Sounds rather pretty, doesn't it?

HARRIET [_unsympathetically_]. I do not understand what you are talking about.

LYDIA [_shortly_]. No.

HARRIET. It is always a source of sorrow to me, Lydia, that you show so little pride in any of the really noble men in the Wilde family.

LYDIA. I never knew them.

HARRIET. But you could at least reverence what I tell you.

LYDIA [_cheerfully_]. Well, I do think great-great-grandfather must have been a gay old person.

HARRIET. Gay old person!