Fifty Contemporary One-Act Plays Part 192

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 n.o.ble 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!

LYDIA. Yes. The portulaca blooms so brightly on his grave. It's really not bad, having your family buried in the front yard, if its dust inspires a flower like this.

HARRIET. I don't see why you insist upon picking those. They wilt immediately.

LYDIA [_looking appealingly at her aunt_]. Oh, but they're so bright and gay! I can't keep my hands from them.

HARRIET [_scornfully smoothing her lace cuff_]. Really?

LYDIA [_for the moment a trifle lonely_]. Aunt Harriet, tell me why these dead old men mean so much to you?

HARRIET [_breathlessly_]. Dead--old--men--? Why, Lydia? The Wildes came up from Virginia and were among the very first pioneers, in this section. They practically made this town and there is no better known name here in the southern part of the state than ours. We--

LYDIA. Oh, yes. Of course, I've heard all that ever since I can remember. [_a.s.suming an att.i.tude of pride._] We have the oldest and most aristocratic-looking house for miles around; the rose-hedge has bloomed for fifty years--it's very nearly dead, too; General Someone drank out of our well, or General Some-One-Else drowned in it, I always forget which.

HARRIET. Lydia!

LYDIA [_soothingly_]. Oh, it doesn't make much difference which. That doesn't worry me. But what does, is how you manage to put a halo around all your fathers and grandfathers and--

HARRIET [_piously_]. Because they represent the n.o.ble traditions of a n.o.ble past.

LYDIA. What about the n.o.ble present?

HARRIET [_looking vaguely about the room_]. I have not seen it.

LYDIA [_bitterly_]. No, you have not seen it. [_Turning to go._]

HARRIET. Just one moment, Lydia. I want to speak to you about your brother.

LYDIA [_quickly_]. Did the doctor say that Joe is worse?

HARRIET. No. In fact, the doctor won't tell me anything. He and Joe seem to have a secret. I can get nothing definite from the doctor at all. But what I feel it my duty to ask you, Lydia, is this: Tell me truthfully.

Have you been speaking to Joe about--Heaven?

LYDIA. No. What a dreadful thing to even mention to a sick boy.

HARRIET. My dear, you are quite wrong. But some one has been misinforming him.

LYDIA. Really?

HARRIET. Lydia, I am very distressed. [_Slowly._] Your young brother holds the most unusual and sacrilegious ideas of immortality.

LYDIA [_indifferently_]. So?

HARRIET. No member of the Wilde family has ever held such ideas. It is quite irregular.

LYDIA. What does he think?

HARRIET. I don't know that I can tell you clearly. It is all so distasteful to me. But he declares--even in contradiction to my explanation--that after death we continue our earthly occupations,--that is, our studies, our ambitions--

LYDIA. That is a wonderful idea.

HARRIET [_not noticing_]. That if we die before accomplis.h.i.+ng anything on earth, we have a chance in the after-life to work. Work! Imagine! In fact he pictures Heaven as a place where people are--doing things.

LYDIA [_lifting her head and smiling_]. Oh, that is beautiful--I mean, what did you tell him?

HARRIET [_reverently_]. I explained very carefully that Heaven is peace, peace. That the first thing we do when a dear one dies, is to pray for the eternal rest of his soul.

LYDIA [_dully_]. Oh.

HARRIET. Yes, Lydia, I am glad to see that you share my distress.

Why--he desecrates the conception of Heaven with workmen, artists, inventors, musicians--anything but angels.

LYDIA. Anything but angels. [_Smiles._] That is quite new, is it not? At least in this little town. Does Joe see himself building houses in Heaven?

HARRIET. That is the worst of it. Why, Lydia, even after I told him patiently that there were no such things as architects in Heaven, he still insists that if he dies, he is going to be one.