Fifty Contemporary One-Act Plays Part 190

[_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 pa.s.s 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 t.i.tle; 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_]. h.e.l.l!

[_He stops the phonograph and tilts back the playing arm. He b.u.t.tons 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 pa.s.s 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 pa.s.ses 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 b.o.o.b!

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.