Part 6

JUDY. (_Laughs_) It was dreadful! When I got back to college I borrowed the engineer’s furnace. I felt as though I cremated my only child. The next morning I started a new one. I am an awfully optimistic person. I think if I lost a husband and seven children I’d bob up the next day and hunt for a new set.

MRS. S. You can say what you please, but I like hero-ines rich.

JUDY. But my heroine can’t be rich, she is in an asylum.

MRS. S. Are you plumb set on that asylum?

JUDY. Yes, I’m plumb set!

MRS. S. You see the trouble is, nobody will ever want to marry her, if she’s out of an orphan asylum.

JUDY. Oh!—But she doesn’t get married.

MRS. S. Folks won’t read it unless it’s got a love story.

JIMMIE. You bet! We’ve got to have a love story.

JUDY. But she’s just a little girl. She doesn’t grow up.

MRS. S. I’ll tell you how you can fix it, Miss Judy; if you’re set on having her an orphan. Get over them troubles in the asylum as fast as possible, and then discover that she ain’t no orphan at all. She got stolen out of her cradle when she was a baby, and her father is a real millionaire, he spends fifteen years searching for his lost daughter, and he recognizes her by a strawberry mark on her left arm.

JIMMIE. (_Crosses R._) What’s a strawberry mark?

MRS. S. That’s the way you tell lost children.

JIMMIE. Oh!

JUDY. But things don’t happen that way. It wouldn’t be true.

MRS. S. Land sakes! Miss Judy, nobody cares if a book’s true, so long as it’s comfortable—that’s the way I’d write it. Then you’d oughta make her grow up, and marry someone real nice like⸺

JIMMIE. (_Down to R. of MRS. SEMPLE_) Like me.

MRS. S. (_Turning to him_) You—never. No—like Mr. Jervis.

JIMMIE. (_Goes R._) Ha! I think I see the proud and haughty Mr. Pendleton marrying a grimy little orphan out of an asylum. (_Up C. above table_) No, Judy, I am sorry but I’m afraid we can’t fall in love with your hero-ine.

CARRIE. (_Enters R. to R. of MRS. SEMPLE_) Mrs. Semple, we are all out of molasses.

MRS. S. (_Rising_) Oh, Miss Judy, did you forget the molasses? (_Takes market basket and hands it to CARRIE. NOTE: All the bundles were replaced in basket as soon as used by JUDY._)

JUDY. (_Rising_) I left the jug in the buggy—Jimmie, would you mind going down to the barn and getting it?

(_CARRIE has made her exit with the basket; MRS. SEMPLE has taken work basket from table and crosses to place it on work-table at R._)

JIMMIE. (_Going, mimicing MRS. SEMPLE_) Land sakes! I don’t get no rest!

MRS. S. (_At R., comes back to R.C._) Oh, Miss Judy, we’re going to have a surprise to-night.

JUDY. (_Crossing to MRS. SEMPLE_) A surprise?

MRS. S. (_Crossing down to door R._) Something you ain’t expecting!

JUDY. (_To chair R. of table_) What is it?

MRS. S. (_Shaking her head_) I ain’t going to tell. (_Goes out R._) I ain’t going to tell.

(_As MRS. SEMPLE exits, JUDY sits R. of table, facing away from SALLIE in a sad and dejected mood. A brief pause—and SALLIE turns—notes JUDY’S attitude._)

SALLIE. (_Rising from piano. Standing above table_) What’s the matter, Judy? (_Crossing to L. of table_) Don’t worry about what that old publisher says. He hasn’t even read the book. It’s the best thing you’ve ever written.

JUDY. (_Standing L._) Because it’s true!

SALLIE. It’s wonderful, Judy—the imagination you have! Why, the atmosphere of that asylum seems as real as though you’d seen it with your own eyes. I don’t know how you do it! I couldn’t picture the inside of an asylum and the way a little orphan girl feels—not if my life depended on it.

JUDY. (_Slowly rising_) It didn’t require any imagination. Those are the things that really do happen.

SALLIE. (_To front of table_) Yes, but how, how do you know? (_Sits on stool, facing JUDY._)

(_JUDY turns away from SALLIE and faces up stage, then suddenly returns to SALLIE, taking chair and bringing it down and sits a little above SALLIE._)

JUDY. Oh, Sallie! I want to tell you _the truth_. I can’t stand it any longer—this pretending and pretending to be something I am not. I don’t belong with all you other girls, who have homes and families. I try to be silly and laughing and care-free like the rest of you; but—I’m only an impostor.

SALLIE. What do you mean?

JUDY. You wondered that I knew so well how the little orphan girl felt. I knew because—I myself was that little girl.

SALLIE. You!

JUDY. My childhood was one long, sullen stretch of revolt. I was brought up in an asylum—in blue-checked gingham. Oh, I feel sometimes—(_SALLIE sympathetically puts her arm on JUDY’S shoulder_)—as if those miserable checks had stamped themselves on my very soul. And then one day—suddenly—like a miracle, Daddy Long-Legs came and lifted me out of all that misery—and gave me freedom and a chance to live. Oh, I was delirious with joy. I thought every trouble in the world was ended.

SALLIE. I can imagine what it would mean to lose one’s parents.

JUDY. I don’t know what I am or where I came from. Oh, I try to be sensible and courageous, but I feel sometimes as though I could never escape from the shadow of my childhood. I dream about it at night, I wake up shivering in the dark, feeling as though I must run faster and faster, because Mrs. Lippett is after me with her arm outstretched to grab me back.

SALLIE. Why, Judy, you’re growing morbid. All this makes no difference.

JUDY. Not with you, perhaps. But to others⸺

SALLIE. Who?

JUDY. Well, do you think Julia Pendleton’s mother would have let her daughter associate with me if she had known? I know how much they think of family.

SALLIE. It doesn’t matter what the Pendletons think.

JUDY. And perhaps they know already.

SALLIE. Why?

JUDY. Well—Jervis—Mr. Pendleton used to come here frequently for a few days’ fishing and he and I became very good friends. We went tramping and fished for trout, read books together and had such good times. But for a long while now he has stayed away and I wonder why. Unless—he has learned the truth. (_Rises._)

SALLIE. (_Rising also_) It doesn’t matter, Judy, he doesn’t count. Some day some other man will come and ask you to be his wife.

JUDY. And I would have to _tell him_ about the _John Grier Home_.

SALLIE. (_Putting her arm around JUDY’S waist_) He would marry you just the same.

JUDY. Yes—through kindness perhaps—through pity. But when I told him if I saw a look of doubt on his face, if I saw the slightest shadow, oh, Sallie—(_Turning to SALLIE_)—I couldn’t _bear_ it! It would _kill_ me! (_Sobs and buries her head on SALLIE’S shoulder. SALLIE tenderly mothers her._)

SALLIE. (_After a pause; lifts JUDY’S head_) Oh, Judy! You speak as though someone has already come. (_JUDY shakes her head, and slowly crosses to L._) Has someone already come?

JUDY. (L.C.) No, no! I was only pretending.

SALLIE. (_Following JUDY a step_) But he’ll come and be proud to do so. You are going to be a famous author.

JUDY. I don’t want fame. (_Crosses to staircase_) I just want—happiness.

SALLIE. (_Crossing to piano_) Poor Judy!

(_JUDY starts upstairs, halting, as MRS. SEMPLE enters at R. and excitedly crosses up C. to window._)

MRS. S. (_Going up C._) _He’s coming!_

JIMMIE. (_Crosses down to R. and exits with jug_) Yes, here I am.

MRS. S. (_Coming down C. above table after laugh_) No, I don’t mean you—I mean Master Jervis.

(_JUDY pauses on stairs as JERVIS enters and comes down L. of MRS. SEMPLE._)

JERVIS. (_Taking her in his arms_) Well, Lizzie, how are you? Bless your heart.

MRS. S. Bless yours, Master Jervis. The sight of you does my old eyes good.

JERVIS. (_Taking her face between his hands and kissing her eyes_) Ah! Bless them—bless them!

SALLIE. (_Left by piano_) How do you do?

JERVIS. (_Crossing to SALLIE_) Ah, Miss McBride—this is an unexpected pleasure⸺ (_Sees JUDY on the stairs and advances to her. JUDY comes to meet him and SALLIE crosses at back over to MRS. SEMPLE._)

JUDY. And how are you, Mr. Pendleton?

JERVIS. (_Coming down C. and then front of table_) Mr. Pendleton—oh! Have I been away so long that Jervis is forgotten?

JUDY. Well, you must admit you’re something of a stranger to our gates. We began to fear we had been forgotten.

JERVIS. What! May I hope then that I’ve been missed?

MRS. S. (_Up R. Coming down R. of table_) Missed! Why, Master Jervis, the five weeks you’ve been away seems like an age⸺

JERVIS. (_Crossing to L. of MRS. SEMPLE_) Oh, you flatterer⸺ (_JIMMIE enters and stands R. of MRS. SEMPLE. A look passes between JIMMIE and JERVIS_) Oh! And Mr. McBride!

JIMMIE. (_Coming down_) How do you do, sir?

JERVIS. (_As they shake hands_) And you.... (_Crosses to JIMMIE._)

JIMMIE. Nicely, thanks.

MRS. S. Oh, Master Jervis—Mr. McBride shot that woodchuck you tried to get. You know that one you tried to get—the one that ate up all my young carrots.

JERVIS. I congratulate Mr. McBride upon succeeding where I failed. (_Turns and crosses over to JUDY_) No, I shall not presume to hope that I had been missed. (_JERVIS and JUDY turn up a step above piano as SALLIE crosses down to L. of JIMMIE._)

SALLIE. Come along, Jimmie—the time has come for you to go⸺ (_Crosses to L. and upstairs._)

JIMMIE. (_Following SALLIE_) I was thinking that myself.

MRS. S. (_Coming down R._) Oh, Mr. McBride—(_JIMMIE stops at L.C. below JERVIS and JUDY_)—I told Carrie to put your things out in the hall.

JIMMIE. Eh?

(_SALLIE waits at head of stairs._)

MRS. S. You don’t mind, do you?

JIMMIE. Oh, no, no! Not at all. (_Crosses to foot of stairs—then turns_) You’re sure you didn’t put them in the _road_?

MRS. S. Oh, no! (_Exits off R._)

SALLIE. Oh! Come on, Jimmie!

(_Exits. JIMMIE on stairs starts to sing dolefully as he goes up and off, his last line heard off stage._)

JIMMIE. (_Singing_)

I’m coming—I’m coming— For my head is bending low— I hear those angel voices calling

(_Off stage, closing door_) Go! Go! Go!

MRS. S. (_Entering R._) Oh, where’s your bag, Master Jervis? Yer old room is ready for you.

JERVIS. (_Crossing R. to MRS. SEMPLE_) No, no, Lizzie, I haven’t come to stay.

(_JUDY looks at JERVIS and then slowly turns back to piano._)

_DIM LIGHTS—SUNSET_

MRS. S. Didn’t come to stay?

JERVIS. Well—not this time. (_JUDY sits at piano_) The man who drove me here is waiting—I must catch the 7:30 train.

(_JUDY plays softly the song she has sung._)

MRS. S. Why, it hardly seems worth while yer coming for so short a time.

JERVIS. Oh, I hope not, Lizzie. (_Looking over his shoulder at JUDY_) I trust it will prove—oh, so worth while⸺

MRS. S. (_Looks from JERVIS to JUDY and understands why_) Oh! Well, ye’ll have a cup of tea?

JERVIS. Yes.

MRS. S. And I’ve got some of that jelly cake you used to like when you were a little boy, Master Jervis. (_Exits R._)

(_JERVIS, closing door after her and turning slowly at door, looking across to JUDY. JUDY has finished playing, rises and looks across at JERVIS. JERVIS breaks the scene._)

JERVIS. (_Moves chair. Crossing up to R. of table, JUDY going to L. of table_) Well, Judy, it seems to me I’ve been away so long I’m sure there is much to tell me. How are affairs at Lock Willow? How’s old Grover?

JUDY. Well⸺

JERVIS. Cautious and sedate as ever?

JUDY. (_Sitting L. of table_) The same.

JERVIS. And how’s the new book? How’s that progressing?

JUDY. Cautiously, too, like old Grover, under the restraining influence of my publisher.

JERVIS. Oh, that’s not fair. Your imagination should have free rein.

JUDY. It’s flattering to know that—you still take interest in our small affairs.

JERVIS. I shall never cease to do that, not for a single moment.

JUDY. That is difficult to believe.

JERVIS. And why?

JUDY. Well—five weeks away and not a word or sign or token.

JERVIS. Yet every moment of those weeks you’ve been in my thoughts. I went away, I stayed away because of something I had learned.

JUDY. (_Apprehensively_) About me?

JERVIS. Concerning both of us—the truth of which has forced itself upon me, and it became a problem I’ve been trying hard to solve.

JUDY. A problem? How⸺

JERVIS. (_Sitting R. of table_) A conflict of my heart and mind in which I can find no peace. And so I’ve come back to ask that you decide. The freedom of our comradeship has gone and I am a dependent now upon your answer. I love you, Judy.

JUDY. Jervis!

_WARN_

JERVIS. With a love so deep, so great that it overpowers what the world would call my sense of right, but how could I help it? You came into my gray existence like a spirit of Spring and sunshine, bringing to it an interest that I had never known. But the difference of our years forbade that I should recognize the truth and so I deceived myself that your friendship was my sole desire. And the play-time of my life began. And then the thought thrust itself upon me that I was deceiving _you_. My reason mocked and ridiculed my love. That I, past youth, should offer youth the remnant of a life ... and so I went away to fight it out alone. I feared perhaps your sympathy might lead you into that greatest sacrifice, a loveless marriage. Then hope transformed me with the thought that in my great love, you might find some measure of content. And so, quite conquered, beaten in the struggle between my reason and my love, I ask your aid, remembering always that beyond all else your own happiness is at stake. Have no thought of the hurt that might come to me, and yet, if somewhere in your heart there is a spark of feeling for me that my devotion might warm into a glow of love, oh, give me the blessed chance to try—and so, dear heart, I’m waiting—fearing—hoping—will you be my wife? (_Pause._)

JUDY. (_Shaking her head slowly_) I cannot—I cannot!

_WARNING CURTAIN_

JERVIS. (_Rising_) Oh, Judy, are you sure? Is there something that I cannot hope to put aside?

JUDY. (_Rises, her back turned to him, slowly_) Yes.

JERVIS. (_Goes back of table. Looks upstairs with thought of JIMMIE_) I think I understand. And so the sun of all my happiness has set.

JUDY. (_Crosses to piano—murmurs in suffering_) Oh, please—please⸺!

JERVIS. (_Back of JUDY_) I know, I know, I’m a coward. Forget my folly in speaking to you of this. I should have known. (_Takes hat from table and crosses to L. of JUDY_) Tell them all I could not stay. Make some excuse for me, and some day when my reason reigns supreme let me come back to you, dear comrade—till then, God bless and keep you, Judy—always, always, always! (_Turns and slowly goes up and off U.L._)

(_JUDY is at piano and as JERVIS goes off, sinks to her knees and throws herself on chair below piano, crying bitterly as curtain descends._)

CURTAIN

ACT IV

SCENE: _MR. PENDLETON’S library, two months later. A plan and full description of the scene will be found at the end of the play._

AT RISE: _GRIGGS is discovered at the desk, engaged in writing. When curtain is well up, the doorbell is heard ringing off R. A pause, and the MAID crosses at back from L. to R. A moment later, MISS PRITCHARD enters at C. The MAID follows MISS PRITCHARD and exits off L. MISS PRITCHARD goes down back of table._

MISS PRITCHARD. How do you do, Mr. Griggs?

GRIGGS. (_Rising on MISS PRITCHARD’S entrance_) Miss Pritchard! Good afternoon!

MISS P. How is Mr. Pendleton? (_To L. of table, sits._)

GRIGGS. The wound is entirely healed. But he doesn’t improve as much as we could wish. He’s very low in spirits!

MISS P. I am so sorry! I’ve been away, and I only just heard about the accident this morning. How did it happen?

GRIGGS. It happened four weeks ago, on a hunting trip in Canada. The gun exploded and he got his hand poisoned.

MISS P. How dreadful! Is he able to see people?

GRIGGS. He’ll be able to see you, Miss Pritchard. You’re such an old friend, but he’s hardly strong enough for relatives yet.

MISS P. Where is he?

GRIGGS. Well, the doctor’s with him just at this moment—if you don’t mind waiting⸺

MISS P. Not in the least. But I’ve been shopping all the afternoon, and I’m nearly famished. (_Rises_) I think I’ll beg a cup of tea from the housekeeper. (_Turns as if to go, and GRIGGS turns to desk to ring bell for housekeeper_) Oh, don’t trouble. I know the way. She and I are old friends! (_Crosses up to C., and GRIGGS turns to desk to resume writing. MISS PRITCHARD turns at C._) Oh, Mr. Griggs, I asked a young lady to meet me here. Should she come, will you please let me know?

GRIGGS. Certainly. (_Sits at desk._)

(_MISS PRITCHARD exits off C. and L. and WALTERS comes downstairs and into the room._)

WALTERS. (_Up stage R. of arch_) Oh, Mr. Griggs—the doctor is just going! And Mr. Pendleton is coming down.

(_JERVIS comes downstairs, preceded by DOCTOR. They stand at foot of stairs as WALTERS exits R. to open door for DOCTOR._)

JERVIS. (_Shaking hands with DOCTOR_) All right, Doctor, I’ll behave. I’ll follow directions—good-bye! (_DOCTOR exits off R. and JERVIS comes into the room C. He wears a long dressing gown, and is pale and somewhat irritable_) Oh, good afternoon, Griggs!

GRIGGS. (_Crossing to R. of JERVIS_) Good afternoon, Mr. Pendleton. I trust you are feeling better.

(_WALTERS crosses at back and goes upstairs off L._)

JERVIS. Yes, yes! Thanks! A good deal better. (_Crossing to armchair front of fire._)

GRIGGS. (_Crossing to desk R. for papers_) Do you feel able to take up the matter of those bonds?

JERVIS. No, not just yet. But there is a matter I wish to discuss. You remember that several months ago I spoke to you about settling a certain definite sum upon Miss Abbott?

GRIGGS. Yes, sir, I remember.

JERVIS. That was before my accident, and I’ve not yet had a chance to arrange the matter. I want you to look up some good securities. Something paying about six per cent, you know, stability—that’s what I want! You understand?

GRIGGS. Yes, sir, I understand. I’ll make a list.

JERVIS. Be good enough to attend to that immediately. And, Griggs, I want you to take down a letter—(_GRIGGS takes note-book from desk and comes to C. above table, ready to receive notes_)—to Miss Abbott. Something to the effect that Mr. Smith has been led to believe that she is considering the question of marriage with Mr. James McBride, and that, if her happiness is at stake, he approves of the step, and wishes her every joy. Then put in a word about Mr. Smith’s belief that a married woman ought to be independent of her husband in financial matters; and that he has created a little trust fund which he sends as a wedding present. Say he feels that with her final settlement in life, his own share in her career is at an end. That he thanks her for the four years of charming letters she has been good enough to send and with this final expression of his esteem he begs to remove his shadowy presence from her life. Sign it—(_WALTERS comes downstairs with tray and medicine to L. of table_)—and bring it to me to look over. (_Sinks into armchair as though exhausted. He seems in a moment to have become the old man that JUDY thinks him._)

GRIGGS. And you’ll attend later to the matter of those bonds?

JERVIS. Yes, yes, that’s all just now. I’m not up to much business yet.

(_GRIGGS up and exits off L. WALTERS comes down to R. of armchair. On tray he has a medicine bottle, partly filled, a glass and a medicine graduate._)

WALTERS. Your medicine, sir.

JERVIS. (_Very quietly_) Take it away! It doesn’t do any good!

WALTERS. But, if you please, sir, the doctor said⸺

JERVIS. (_Rising, crossing to R. of table_) Oh, take it away!

WALTERS. (_Following him to R._) Now, Mr. Jervis, you should have taken it at four o’clock. It’s half past now, and the other kind comes at five. It isn’t best to mix them, sir. They ought to come in layers. (_Places tray on corner of table. The drinking glass placed handily for JERVIS. Sits R. of table._)

JERVIS. Walters, you’re a good man, but you’re obstinate. Now, when I say a thing, I mean it. (_Sits R. of table._)

WALTERS. (_With patient persistency_) But Mr. Jervis, you promised the doctor that if he’d let the nurse go, you wouldn’t make any trouble for me. (_Takes graduate in left hand and bottle in right._)

JERVIS. (_Rises and takes glass in R. hand_) Oh, very well.

WALTERS. (_Starting to pour medicine_) One teaspoon, sir. Just one.

(_JERVIS takes bottle from WALTERS and begins to pour the contents into the glass, then drinks it as the horrified WALTERS takes bottle from him, remonstrating. JERVIS sets glass on the tray and turns to WALTERS._)

JERVIS. There! I have taken the whole lot. Now, I hope you’re satisfied. Don’t let me hear the word “medicine” again! (_Sits R. of table, WALTERS takes tray and crosses to L. of C. and exits L. as JULIA enters C. from L. of JERVIS, and WALTERS exits off L._)

JULIA. (_Behind JERVIS, kissing him on cheek over L. shoulder_) Hello, Uncle Jervis! (_Crossing to R._) Feeling better?

JERVIS. (_Surprised_) How did you get in?

JULIA. Through the basement—along with the butcher. You are going to have chicken for dinner.

JERVIS. Umph! Thanks!

JULIA. That brute of a Walters will never let me in.

JERVIS. He has orders.

JULIA. This is the third time I’ve called. And your own relative.

JERVIS. Julia, I’m not well enough to talk, the doctor says I have to keep quiet.

JULIA. You can’t fool me. You see lots of people. You are just cross.

JERVIS. (_Rising_) Yes, that’s it—I’m cross! I am not fit company for anyone! (_Crossing to L. of table and sits_) Now you run along.

JULIA. (_Crosses to R. of JERVIS, above table_) Ah, nunkey, don’t be cross. I won’t bother you. But I want your advice about something important. I want you to talk to mother.

JERVIS. No—no! I’m not strong enough to talk to your mother.

JULIA. Oh, please, Uncle Jervis, it’s very important! Please!

JERVIS. Well, well, what is it?

JULIA. (_Resting on chair L. of table_) Mother’s picked out someone _she_ wants me to marry.

JERVIS. Well, marry him!

JULIA. But I don’t like him!

JERVIS. Why don’t you like him?

JULIA. Well, he’s got a long mustache that looks like a chicken wing, and no chin.

JERVIS. Very well, don’t marry him!

JULIA. And _I’ve_ picked out exactly the man I _do want_ to marry.

JERVIS. Very well, then marry him.

JULIA. Mother doesn’t think he’s good enough to marry me.

JERVIS. Nonsense! Anybody’s good enough to marry you.

JULIA. (_Rising and crossing to his L._) Uncle Jervis! (_Cross L._)

JERVIS. No, no—I don’t mean that!