The Atlantic Book of Modern Plays Part 4

LIZZIE (_beating her hands together distractedly_). He'll be --We'll--He'll--Och!!! (_Resigned and beaten_) John, go and bring wee Alexander in here.

(JOHN _is off like a shot. The opening of the door of the other room can be told by the burst of_ ALEXANDER'S _voice. The old man's wails have stopped the second his daughter capitulated. JOHN returns with_ ALEXANDER _and bears him to his grandfather's waiting knee. The boy's tears and howls have ceased and he is smiling triumphantly. He is of course in his night-s.h.i.+rt and a blanket, which Grandpa wraps round him, turning toward the fire._)

LIZZIE (_looking on with many nods of the head and smacks of the lips_). There you are! That's the kind o' boy he is. Greet his heart oot for a thing an' stop the moment he gets it.

DAVID. Dae ye expect him to gae on after he's got it? Ah, but, Alexander, ye didna get it yer lane this time; it took the twa o'

us. An' hard work it was for the Auld Yin! Man! (_Playing hoa.r.s.e_)

I doot I've enough voice left for a--(_Bursting out very loud and making the boy laugh._) Aweel! Whit's it gaein' to be--eh?

[CURTAIN]

SPREADING THE NEWS[1]

Lady Gregory

[Footnote 1: Included by special permission of Lady Gregory and of Messrs. G.P. Putnam's Sons, the publishers of _Seven Short Plays_ (1909), and other volumes of Lady Gregory's works.

Application for acting rights must be made to Samuel French, 28 West 38th Street, New York City.]

CHARACTERS

BARTLEY FALLON MRS. FALLON JACK SMIT SHAWN EARLY TIM CASEY JAMES RYAN MRS. TARPEY MRS. TULLY JOE MULDOON, a policeman A REMOVABLE MAGISTRATE

SCENE: _The outskirts of a Fair. An Apple Stall._ MRS. TARPEY _sitting at it._ MAGISTRATE _and_ POLICEMAN _enter._

MAGISTRATE. So that is the Fair Green. Cattle and sheep and mud.

No system. What a repulsive sight!

POLICEMAN. That is so, indeed.

MAGISTRATE. I suppose there is a good deal of disorder in this place?

POLICEMAN. There is.

MAGISTRATE. Common a.s.sault?

POLICEMAN. It's common enough.

MAGISTRATE. Agrarian crime, no doubt?

POLICEMAN. That is so.

MAGISTRATE. Boycotting? Maiming of cattle? Firing into houses?

POLICEMAN. There was one time, and there might be again.

MAGISTRATE. That is bad. Does it go any farther than that?

POLICEMAN. Far enough, indeed.

MAGISTRATE. Homicide, then! This district has been shamefully neglected! I will change all that. When I was in the Andaman Islands, my system never failed. Yes, yes, I will change all that. What has that woman on her stall?

POLICEMAN. Apples mostly--and sweets.

MAGISTRATE. Just see if there are any unlicensed goods underneath--spirits or the like. We had evasions of the salt tax in the Andaman Islands.

POLICEMAN (_sniffing cautiously and upsetting a heap of apples_). I see no spirits here--or salt.

MAGISTRATE (_to_ MRS. TARPEY). Do you know this town well, my good woman?

MRS. TARPEY (_holding out some apples_). A penny the half-dozen, your honor.

POLICEMAN (_shouting_). The gentleman is asking do you know the town! He's the new magistrate!

MRS. TARPEY (_rising and ducking_). Do I know the town? I do, to be sure.

MAGISTRATE (_shouting_). What is its chief business?

MRS, TARPEY. Business, is it? What business would the people here have but to be minding one another's business?

MAGISTRATE. I mean what trade have they?

MRS. TARPEY. Not a trade. No trade at all but to be talking.

MAGISTRATE. I shall learn nothing here.

(JAMES RYAN _comes in, pipe in mouth. Seeing MAGISTRATE, he retreats quickly, taking pipe from mouth._)

MAGISTRATE. The smoke from that man's pipe had a greenish look; he may be growing unlicensed tobacco at home. I wish I had brought my telescope to this district. Come to the post-office; I will telegraph for it. I found it very useful in the Andaman Islands.

(MAGISTRATE _and_ POLICEMAN _go out left._)

MRS. TARPEY. Bad luck to Jo Muldoon, knocking my apples this way and that way. (_Begins arranging them._) Showing off he was to the new magistrate.

(_Enter_ BARTLEY FALLON _and_ MRS. FALLON.)

BARTLEY. Indeed it's a poor country and a scarce country to be living in. But I'm thinking if I went to America it's long ago the day I'd be dead!

MRS. FALLON. So you might, indeed.

(_She puts her basket on a barrel and begins putting parcels in it, taking them from under her cloak._)

BARTLEY. And it's a great expense for a poor man to be buried in America.

MRS. FALLON. Never fear, Bartley Fallon, but I'll give you a good burying the day you'll die.