Part 5

JERVIS. Well, she’s coming on. It’s some time since I sat on Lizzie’s lap and had my face washed.

JUDY. (_Laughs_) How funny!

JERVIS. (_Crossing to C. of table_) I occasionally motor through that country and stop for a little fishing. Maybe I’ll see you.

JUDY. That will be very nice. (_Suddenly crosses over to L. and up as JERVIS, stunned by his abrupt dismissal, turns front_) Thanks.

JERVIS. (_Crossing over R. and then turning to her_) And what are you doing in college? Have you learned anything?

JUDY. (_Coming to L. of chair, reproachfully_) Have I learned anything? The area of the convex surface of the frustum of a regular pyramid is half the product of the sum of the perimeters of its bases by the altitude of either of its trapezoids.

JERVIS. (_Bowing_) That is very impressive.

JUDY. (_Behind table_) I’ve finished—physiology. I know all about your insides.

JERVIS. Um—yes⸺

JUDY. (_Crossing to armchair_) I hope you never touch alcohol, Mr. Pendleton. It does dreadful things to your liver.

JERVIS. Thank you—I will remember.

JUDY. (_Sitting in armchair_) Did you know that we used to be monkeys?

JERVIS. (_Sitting R. of JUDY_) I’ve heard rumors.

JUDY. You, just as much as me.

JERVIS. And why not?

JUDY. But, of course, the Pendletons are descended from very superior monkeys—with beautiful silky hair and extra long tails.

JERVIS. Oh!

JUDY. Did you ever read Hamlet?

JERVIS. Yes.

JUDY. Isn’t it corking?

JERVIS. Eh?

JUDY. Every night I put myself to sleep by pretending that I’m the heroine of whatever book I’m reading. Do you ever do that?

JERVIS. I never have.

JUDY. Just now I’m Ophelia!

JERVIS. Ophelia?

JUDY. Hamlet and I are married. The King and Queen are dead. But Hamlet didn’t kill them. They just died of—pneumonia.

JERVIS. Um—much more modern idea.

JUDY. You know—Hamlet and I are having a perfectly lovely time. I’ve entirely cured him of being melancholy. He attends to the governing and I look after the charities. We’ve just founded the most remarkable orphan asylum. All of the children are happy.

JERVIS. And you, Miss Judy? Are you happy?

JUDY. Happy? (_Rises—JERVIS, too_) I’m the happiest person in the whole wide world.

JERVIS. Tell me the secret.

JUDY. We have ice-cream twice a week—(_Goes to R. of table_)—and we never have corn-meal mush.

JERVIS. That’s something.

JUDY. (_R. of table, facing him, hands on table_) And I’ve lots of friends, and I’ve passed my examinations, and I’ve won a short story prize⸺

JERVIS. Good!

JUDY. And I’ve made the basket-ball team—(_Stands up_)—and I have eight new dresses—all of them different colors, and not, not one blue gingham. (_Turning away._)

JERVIS. You don’t admire blue gingham?

JUDY. No! I shudder at the thought! (_Crosses over L._) Talk about something else quick. (_Goes up. JERVIS glances about the room._)

JERVIS. What shall we talk about? (_Turning up a little_) Did you girls furnish this room yourselves?

JUDY. (_Coming to table C._) The expensive things are Julia’s. It’s awful the way she wastes money.

JERVIS. (_Over to R. of armchair—sternly_) If I had a girl who belonged to me I’d give her an allowance and I’d make her keep within it. I hope your guardian makes you keep within your allowance.

JUDY. (_Laughs and shakes her head_) No, he doesn’t. He gives me lots of extra things.

JERVIS. That won’t do. He’ll spoil you.

JUDY. (_Facing him_) Oh! But it’s such fun to be spoiled—(_Facing front_)—when you never have been.

(_JERVIS leans over armchair, looking at her tenderly. JUDY reads the expression and turns abruptly to L._)

JERVIS. And which of all these things did you choose? (_Turns up._)

JUDY. (_Behind table_) This rug—do you like it?

JERVIS. Yes—very pretty.

JUDY. And that window seat. (_Going up C._) It used to be a bureau, but I took off the looking-glass and upholstered the top. (_JERVIS goes up a little also_) You pull the drawers out like steps and just walk up. (_She does it and sits on the top_) Wouldn’t you like to try it, Mr. Pendleton? It’s very comfortable.

JERVIS. (_Coming down R. of chair and pulling it up and off of ink spot_) I think I’ll stay on dry land.

(_JUDY, in consternation, quickly descending from bureau._)

JUDY. (_Hastily coming down_) No, no, no! (_L. of chair_) Now, you’ve done it!

JERVIS. (_Staring at the spot_) What’s that?

JUDY. Family skeleton. We keep it under the chair. I bought the rug for half price because it had an ink spot.

JERVIS. A what?

JUDY. Ink spot.

JERVIS. You call that a spot? (_Cross R._) I’d call it a pond.

JUDY. (_Sets chair down on spot with a slam_) If people would just leave our furniture alone, it would never show. (_To R. of table._)

JERVIS. (_R. of chair_) I’m sorry, Miss Judy. I won’t offend again. But tell me, what sort of a man is your guardian?

JUDY. Daddy Long-Legs?

JERVIS. Yes.

JUDY. Oh, he’s sort of tall—and skinny. He’s getting a little shaky now, and has to walk with a cane. He’s bald up here—but he has a nice fringe of white hair all around here.

JERVIS. Oh, yes, quite a beauty.

JUDY. He’s a sweet lamb. And I love him more than anything in the whole world.

JERVIS. That must make him very happy.

JUDY. (_Facing him_) He doesn’t know it. I wouldn’t tell him to his face. It would spoil him. (_Turns away._)

JERVIS. Maybe it would do him good. It would give him a fresh interest in life to think that a nice girl like you cared for him.

JUDY. (_Suddenly—turning to him. Sits on table_) When I get through college, I’m going to live with him.

JERVIS. (_Startled_) Are you really? Does he want you?

JUDY. Not now. But he will when he knows me better.

JERVIS. Maybe you’ll change your mind when you know him better.

JUDY. Oh, no, I sha’n’t. I have it all planned. I am going to read out loud to him, and plump up his pillow, and warm his slippers, and wrap up his throat in camphorated oil, and _always_ make him wear his rubbers when he goes out.

JERVIS. (_Dubiously_) That’s very touching.

JUDY. I am going to be awfully firm with him.

JERVIS. Oh, you are, are you? (_JUDY nods head_) Does he ever come to see you? (_JUDY shakes her head_) No? Why not?

JUDY. He doesn’t care anything about me, really.

JERVIS. Nonsense, of course he does.

JUDY. I just pretend. You must have somebody to love, and he’s all I have. So I make believe that he cares.

JERVIS. Maybe he does care—more than you think.

JUDY. (_Facing him, with a flash of fire_) No, he doesn’t! He’s a horrid, cross, old thing, with a mouth that turns down like that, and a perfectly dreadful temper.

JERVIS. So! And doesn’t he ever write to you?

JUDY. No!

JERVIS. And don’t you write to him?

JUDY. Yes, I write to him all the time—whenever I get lonely. But he doesn’t even read my letters.

JERVIS. How do you know?

JUDY. He throws them in the waste basket.

JERVIS. Oh, no, you’re wrong. He keeps them tied together with a piece of red tape, and locked in a drawer of his desk, and winter evenings when he’s all alone in his dark library, he gets them out and reads them over; and then he sits and looks in the fire and wonders what little Judy is doing, and wishes she were there to talk to him.

(_JUDY listens with a pleased smile and faces him._)

JUDY. I like to think he does⸺ (_Turning away_) But it’s only pretending. (_Crosses L. and up behind chair L. of table._)

_WARN CURTAIN_

JERVIS. I wonder! I wonder!

(_JUDY throws of her momentary sadness and faces him with a sudden change of manner._)

JUDY. Do you know that I am a genius?

JERVIS. Are you really?

JUDY. Yes. That’s why my guardian is sending me to college. I’m going to be a great author.

JERVIS. That’s very nice.

JUDY. (_With a quick laugh_) Wouldn’t it be a joke on my guardian, if I turned out not to be a genius at all—but just a plain girl? (_Crossing to L. of table._)

JERVIS. What an idea! Of course you’re a genius.

JUDY. (_Down L._) Do you think it would be fair to Daddy Long-Legs, if, after being educated to be a writer, I should give it up and marry somebody instead?

JERVIS. (_Coming to R. of table_) No! I do not!

JUDY. I’ll tell you what I’ll do. I’ll write a wonderful novel and make an awful lot of money and give it all to Daddy—and then I’ll be free to marry anybody I choose.

JIMMIE. (_Entering suddenly and standing by door_) I say, Judy Abbott⸺

JUDY. (_Crossing to him. They exit, laughing and chatting_) Oh, Jimmie! I forgot all about you. You want to see the running track—well, come right along.

(_As JUDY crosses to JIMMIE, JERVIS turns and follows her movements. When she is off—he faces front, puzzled and nonplussed, as the curtain descends._)

CURTAIN

1st Call—Everybody. 2nd Call—Judy.

ACT III

SCENE: _The sitting-room at Lock Willow farm, summer, three years later. A plan and full description of the scene will be found at the end of the play._

DISCOVERED: _At rise SALLIE, seated L. of table, looking more mature and womanly than in the preceding act, is discovered at rise, interestedly engaged in writing a letter. JIMMIE enters U.L., wearing a slight mustache and dressed in flannels. He enters, humming a song and carrying a gun._

JIMMIE. (_Throws cap on piano_) Well—got him! (_Places gun R. of what-not._)

SALLIE. (_Looking up_) What?

JIMMIE. (_Crosses to L._) Woodchuck!

SALLIE. (_Resumes writing_) That’s good!

JIMMIE. (_Crosses to door U._) Oh—Mrs. Semple!

MRS. SEMPLE. (_Off stage R._) Y-e-s⸺

JIMMIE. The deed is done. (_Turns to SALLIE, who pays no attention, crosses R. of table_) I’ve been lying on my stomach for two hours, waiting for that old cuss to stick out his head. Gee, I’m stiff. (_Goes through gymnastics._)

SALLIE. (_Looks up and laughs despairingly_) My dear Jimmie, won’t you ever grow up? You’ve been out of college two years, and you act like a Freshman.

JIMMIE. (_Turning to mirror over mantel up R. and twirling his mustache_) Freshman! Did you ever see a Freshman with a mustache like that? (_SALLIE resumes writing. To mantel_) I say, where is Judy? (_Crosses to C. above table._)

SALLIE. She drove to the village, to send off the manuscript of her new book.

JIMMIE. Well, why didn’t she ask me to go along?

SALLIE. You were occupied.

JIMMIE. (_Sits R._) I could have postponed that woodchuck until to-morrow.

SALLIE. To-morrow! Jimmie McBride, you must go home to-day. You had no business stopping off here at all.

JIMMIE. You visit Judy for two weeks. I should think I might have two days.

SALLIE. Father needs you in the factory.

JIMMIE. Factory? Work—work—work! It’s awful the way we men have to work to keep you women in idleness and luxury.

SALLIE. You? Work! Ha! It’s Judy who knows how to work!

(_MRS. SEMPLE enters R. and JIMMIE rises._)

MRS. S. (_Crossing to R. of JIMMIE_) Well, did you get the critter? (_Crosses to R. of table._)

JIMMIE. (_Weeping into his handkerchief_) It’s all over. (_Crosses to piano—sits and picks out a one-fingered tune._)

MRS. S. I’m real glad. He et all the tops off my young carrots. (_Up R., looking around the room—to set things in order—but no halt in the lines_) Mr. Jervis usually keeps the woodchucks pretty well shot-up; but he ain’t been here lately.

_PHONE READY_

JIMMIE. (_Turning interestedly_) Is Mr. Pendleton in the habit of coming?

MRS. S. (_Crosses down a little R._) Off and on.

JIMMIE. (_Curiously_) Off and on?

MRS. S. (_Continuing_) ⸺for a little fishing.

JIMMIE. Fishing!

MRS. S. I’m always glad to see him, it makes it cheerful for Miss Judy.

JIMMIE. (_Rising_) Oh, fishing?

MRS. S. (_Crossing to piano, looking at picture of JERVIS over window_) I can’t realize that Mr. Jervis ain’t still the little boy in that picture. Seems like he belonged to me. But of course I was only his nurse and after he growed up, he sort of drifted off. (_Sitting R. of table. JIMMIE at window._)

JIMMIE. (_Comes down R._) Until Miss Judy commenced coming—and then he sort of drifted back, eh?

MRS. S. Oh, he’s awful fond of _fishing_. (_Phone rings, one long, followed by three short_) Telephone! (_Crossing to R._)

SALLIE. That’s not our number!

MRS. S. 13! The Weavers! Wonder who’s talking to ’em? I’ll just find out. (_She waddles off R. SALLIE resumes writing and JIMMIE crosses above table C._)

JIMMIE. (_Crossing above table_) Don’t you think it’s darned queer for Jervis Pendleton to be visiting up here?

SALLIE. No! She’s his old nurse!

JIMMIE. Nurse? Maggie Flannigan is my old nurse, but I don’t spend my _summers_ with her.

SALLIE. (_Mocking MRS. S._) Mr. Pendleton’s awful fond of fishing.

JIMMIE. Fishing! Rats! (_Crosses to chair R. by fireplace._)

MRS. S. (_Entering—crosses to up R._) That was Jim Weaver talking to their doctor. It’s awful the way Jim Weaver swears over the telephone. I think every lady on the line ought to complain. Miss Judy had the telephone put in. We never had one till she came. Don’t know what we’d do without it now. (_Sitting R. of table, crosses to R. for workbasket on table and returns to R. of table and sits and begins work on knitting_) Miss Judy does have more ideas! The first summer she was here she and Mr. Jervis knocked out the whole wall side of the house and had that window put in. Makes it look like all outdoors. It’s fine for the summer, but they ain’t here in the winter. (_Grunt. Workbasket on table_) And then she had that piano put in tuther room. The last I heard, they was planning a pergolley in the garden. But he ain’t been up here for a month or so and I guess the pergolley notion has sort of dropped. I don’t know what she’ll think of next.

JIMMIE. (_Rises, twirling mustache with self-satisfied air_) She’ll be getting married next, and then⸺

MRS. S. (_Looks across at JIMMIE_) When she does marry, I hope it will be to a man that amounts to something, and not to some trifling, good-for-nothing young fellow who’s afraid of work.

JIMMIE. (_Gives himself a burlesque punch and turns up_) Ooh!

MRS. S. (_Putting workbasket on table_) Land sakes! (_Looks at clock on mantel_) What time does your train go? I mustn’t let you miss it!

JIMMIE. (_Sweetly_) Thanks!

MRS. S. Too bad you weren’t here when Miss Judy left; she could a-carried you to the station.

JIMMIE. Oh, I can postpone going until to-morrow, if it isn’t convenient⸺

_READY PHONE_

MRS. S. Oh, it’ll be _convenient_⸺ (_Telephone rings, one long and one short. MRS. SEMPLE rises_) The Widow Dowd! I wonder who’s talking to her? (_Hurries off R. JIMMIE turns to SALLIE._)

_READY PHONE_

JIMMIE. (_Above table_) Are you writing a book, too? Is it catching?

SALLIE. (_Gathering up pages_) I’m just writing a _note_ to Gordon.

JIMMIE. A note? You’ve got it bad! I hope when I get engaged, my girl won’t write me notes like that and expect an answer.

SALLIE. (_Having enclosed note in envelope, rises_) Jimmie, wait a second! (_Crosses to L._) I’ll get a stamp. (_Goes upstairs and off, as MRS. SEMPLE enters at R._)

MRS. S. (_To R. of table_) That was Mrs. Iry Hatch wantin’ to borrow the Widow Dowd’s ice-cream freezer.—Now what do you s’pose she wants to make ice-cream for in the middle of the week? (_Phone rings: two long and three short rings_) There it goes again! That’s our number. I don’t get no rest! (_Hurries Off R. SALLIE enters._)

SALLIE. (_Downstairs on landing to JIMMIE_) Oh, Jimmie! The Postman is coming up the road. Give him this and see if there is any mail for us.

(_CARRIE enters U.L. Crossing to C., carrying a broom and dust cloth; as JIMMIE turns to exit._)

JIMMIE. (_Going up and off L. MRS. SEMPLE enters R. and crosses up to CARRIE at R.C. SALLIE to L. of table, closing writing desk_) I fly!

MRS. S. Carrie! Carrie! Mr. Jervis has just telephoned from the station. He’s driving up and he’ll be here in half an hour. (_CARRIE crosses to door R._) Ain’t it lucky I made that jelly cake? (_Calls off R._) Carrie! Carrie! You go and clean the best bedroom.

CARRIE. But Mr. McBride’s in it!

MRS. S. (_R.C. above table_) Just set his things right out in the hall. He’s going in a few minutes.

CARRIE. (_Upstairs_) Yes’m! (_Exits upstairs._)

MRS. S. (_Crossing to R. to foot of stairs door and speaks to CARRIE_) And Carrie—don’t tell Miss Judy. She ain’t heard nothing from him in a long time and we’ll just fix up a little surprise.

CARRIE. (_Off stage_) No’m.

(_MRS. SEMPLE closes door, as JIMMIE enters L. with mail. MRS. SEMPLE crosses to R. of table and sits._)

JIMMIE. (_Coming to C. above table_) Hello, Sis! Mail!

SALLIE. (_L. of table_) Oh, did you get a letter for me?

JIMMIE. No! An advertisement for you. (_Gives her large music envelope_) Gordon’s tired of writing. (_Gives mail, wrapped magazine to MRS. SEMPLE_) For you, Mrs. Semple! All for Judy. (_Takes remaining letters up R. and lays them on work-table._)

SALLIE. (_Taking sheet music from envelope_) This is from Gordon. Oh, it’s a song he wants me to sing. (_Sits at piano._)

JIMMIE. You! Sing a song! Ha! (_To table above MRS. SEMPLE._)

MRS. S. (_Sits R. of table looking over magazine._) And here’s instalment three of the remarkable serial by that rising young author, Jerusha Abbott.

JIMMIE. I say, look at the pictures. Aren’t they corkers?

MRS. S. I don’t know how she does it—I couldn’t write a book, not if you was to pay me for it.

(_JIMMIE turns up to window with a laugh._)

JIMMIE. Oh, by jove—here she is now! (_Crosses and exits L., leaving door open as JUDY is heard “helloing” off stage. JIMMIE and JUDY carry on a chatter outside as MRS. SEMPLE goes through her speech with SALLIE playing the air on piano with a gradual crescendo, ending on the word “famous” as JUDY steps inside._)

MRS. S. Now, ain’t that grand? To see her name printed right out in letters half an inch high! I always said that Judy was going to be _famous_.

(_JUDY enters and comes to L.C., carrying hat in one hand and millinery bag in other. SALLIE rises as JUDY enters. JIMMIE follows JUDY, carrying a small market basket, ladened with bundles._)

JUDY. Hello, everybody!

(_JIMMIE crosses behind JUDY and sets basket on table C._)

SALLIE. (_At L._) Good gracious! What’s all that?

JUDY. (_Coming down L. of table, SALLIE to L. of JUDY, JIMMIE L. of MRS. SEMPLE_) I am September Santa Claus. I’ve brought you all a present from the village store. (_JUDY removes coat and puts hat and coat on windowseat._)

JIMMIE. (_Crosses down R._) I like the way you set me to catching woodchucks. (_JUDY comes down L. of table_) And then go off on a pleasure drive.

JUDY. When we take a tramp in for the night, we expect him to work for his board.

MRS. S. What kept you so long? We were afraid old Grover had run away with you.

JUDY. Oh, I stopped to give the money to old Mrs. Barber. (_Explaining to JIMMIE_) They’re an awfully poor family, who have had such bad luck. I wrote to Daddy Long-Legs about them, and he sent me a check for a hundred dollars for them.

SALLIE. (_Crossing to JUDY, arms around her_) What did she say? Was she pleased?

JUDY. (_Laughs_) She said, “Thank the Good Lord,” but I told her it wasn’t the good Lord. It was my Guardian.

MRS. S. But it was the good Lord that put it into his head.

JUDY. (R.) Oh, no, it wasn’t! I put it in his head myself. (_Takes two haying hats from bag she had placed on the table, as JIMMIE crosses to table above MRS. SEMPLE_) Look! The latest importations in fall millinery. One for Sallie and one for Judy, to save the skin on our noses when we go blackberrying. (_Tries hat on SALLIE, who turns and crosses over L. to mirror, below staircase, to try on hat herself as JUDY turns and takes from basket a flour sifter. Holding up sifter_) A new flour sifter for Mrs. Semple. (_JIMMIE has unwrapped a package containing pink cambric, which JUDY takes from him_) And last, but not least—here is some stuff to make aprons for Carrie.

MRS. S. (_Examining the material_) Landsakes! What did you pay for that a yard?

JUDY. Fifty cents.

MRS. S. Fifty cents! Why didn’t you get blue checked gingham?

JUDY. Oh!

(_JIMMIE crosses to window, twirling mustache. Sits on arm of chair._)

MRS. S. You could of got that for 12 cents a yard.

JUDY. (_Shuddering and turning up, as SALLIE crosses up to JUDY and puts hat on piano_) Oh!

JIMMIE. (_At R._) I never saw anything so silly, as the way you women fuss over clothes.

JUDY. (_Facing JIMMIE. SALLIE behind JUDY_) Silly, eh? I heard of another man who grumbled about women’s clothes being silly, until finally his wife, to please him—adopted dress reform. And then⸺

JIMMIE. Then what? (_Twirling mustache._)

JUDY. He eloped with a chorus girl. (_Looks of horror from MRS. SEMPLE._)

MRS. S. Good grief.

SALLIE. Oh, Jimmie, do let that mustache alone. Kill it, but don’t worry it to death.

(_JIMMIE crosses to SALLIE and they exchange shots in a light tone as JUDY plays the prelude to the song. SALLIE cautions JIMMIE to be quiet and stands above JUDY ready to turn pages for her. JIMMIE stands L. of table, leaning against chair and watching JUDY. MRS. SEMPLE sits back in her chair R. of table, ready to listen with great satisfaction._)

_SONG “INFAMY”_

JUDY. Where did you get it?

SALLIE. Gordon sent it.

JUDY. (_Crosses to L. of table_) Oh, has the mail come? (_JIMMIE quickly crosses to R. and returns with letters_) Any letters for me?

JIMMIE. (_To table, sits on table, handing letters to her_) A million-dollar check from your publishers. (_Takes magazine from table_) Instalment three of the great American novel by Jerusha Abbott.

JUDY. (_Having looked through letters_) Is this all?

JIMMIE. All! Were you expecting a love letter, too?

JUDY. (_Sitting L. of table_) Don’t be silly, Jimmie! (_Opening one letter, laying others on table_) I wonder what my publishers have to say of the idea of my new book.

(_SALLIE sits at piano and softly plays the song._)

JIMMIE. (_C. above table_) What’s the name of your new book?

JUDY. “The Rufus Gaunt Home.”

(_JIMMIE above table, JUDY sits L., MRS. SEMPLE R._)

JIMMIE. “The Rufus Gaunt Home?” That is a cheerful title! Is it an insane asylum or just a poorhouse?

(_SALLIE looking out window._)

JUDY. It’s—an orphan asylum.

JIMMIE. An orphan asylum? Oh, I say, if you’re going to write a book, why don’t you choose a subject you know something about?

JUDY. (_Looks up from letter then around to JIMMIE; then slowly faces front again_) That’s just what my publisher asks.

SALLIE. But wait till he reads it! It’s a beautiful book—isn’t it, Mrs. Semple?

(_During this scene, JIMMIE devotes all his attention to JUDY._)

MRS. S. Of course it’s beautiful. Everything Miss Judy writes is beautiful—but I did think the book you wrote that first summer was grand!