Plays Part 13

TOM: (at the phone) Sorry-but I can't get to Claire. She appears to have gone below. (ANTHONY closes the trap-door) I did speak to Anthony, but he says that Claire is working at one of her experiments and that her daughter is finished. I don't know how to make her hear-I took the revolver back to the house. Anyway you will remember Claire doesn't answer the revolver. I hate to reach Claire when she doesn't want to be reached. Why, of course-a daughter is very important, but oh, that's too bad. (putting down the receiver) He says the girl's feelings are hurt. Isn't that annoying? (gingerly pounds on the trap-door. Then with the other hand. Waits. ANTHONY has a gentle smile for the gentle tapping-nods approval as, TOM returns to the phone) She doesn't come up. Indeed I did-with both fists-Sorry.

ANTHONY: Please, you won't try again to disturb Miss Claire, will you?

d.i.c.k: Her daughter is here, Anthony. She hasn't seen her daughter for a year.

ANTHONY: Well, if she got along without a mother for a year-(goes back to his work)

d.i.c.k: (smiling after ANTHONY) Plants are queer. Perhaps it's safer to do it with pencil (regards TOM)-or with pure thought. Things that grow in the earth-

TOM: (nodding) I suppose because we grew in the earth.

d.i.c.k: I'm always shocked to find myself in agreement with Harry, but I too am worried about Claire-and this, (looking at the plants)

TOM: It's her best chance.

d.i.c.k: Don't you hate to go away to India-for ever-leaving Claire's future uncertain?

TOM: You're cruel now. And you knew that you were being cruel.

d.i.c.k: Yes, I like the lines of your face when you suffer.

TOM: The lines of yours when you're causing suffering-I don't like them.

d.i.c.k: Perhaps that's your limitation.

TOM: I grant you it may be. (They are silent) I had an odd feeling that you and I sat here once before, long ago, and that we were plants. And you were a beautiful plant, and I-I was a very ugly plant. I confess it surprised me-finding myself so ugly a plant.

(A young girl is seen outside. HARRY gets the door open for her and brings ELIZABETH in.)

HARRY: There's heat here. And two of your mother's friends. Mr Demming-Richard Demming-the artist-and I think you and Mr Edgeworthy are old friends.

(ELIZABETH comes forward. She is the creditable young American-well built, poised, 'cultivated', so sound an expression of the usual as to be able to meet the world with a.s.surance-a.s.surance which training has made rather graceful. She is about seventeen-and mature. You feel solid things behind her.)

TOM: I knew you when you were a baby. You used to kick a great deal then.

ELIZABETH: (laughing, with ease) And scream, I haven't a doubt. But I've stopped that. One does, doesn't one? And it was you who gave me the idol.

TOM: Proselytizing, I'm afraid.

ELIZABETH: I beg-? Oh-yes (laughing cordially) I see. (she doesn't) I dressed the idol up in my doll's clothes. They fitted perfectly-the idol was just the size of my doll Ailine. But mother didn't like the idol that way, and tore the clothes getting them off. (to HARRY, after looking around) Is mother here?

HARRY: (crossly) Yes, she's here. Of course she's here. And she must know you're here, (after looking in the inner room he goes to the trap-door and makes a great noise)

ELIZABETH: Oh-please. Really-it doesn't make the least difference.

HARRY: Well, all I can say is, your manners are better than your mother's.

ELIZABETH: But you see I don't do anything interesting, so I have to have good manners. (lightly, but leaving the impression there is a certain superiority in not doing anything interesting. Turning cordially to d.i.c.k) My father was an artist.

d.i.c.k: Yes, I know.

ELIZABETH: He was a portrait painter. Do you do portraits?

d.i.c.k: Well, not the kind people buy.

ELIZABETH: They bought father's.

d.i.c.k: Yes, I know he did that kind.

HARRY: (still irritated) Why, you don't do portraits.

d.i.c.k: I did one of you the other day. You thought it was a milk-can.

ELIZABETH: (laughing delightedly) No? Not really? Did you think-How could you think-(as HARRY does not join the laugh) Oh, I beg your pardon. I-Does mother grow beautiful roses now?

HARRY: No, she does not.

(The trap-door begins to move. CLAIRE's head appears.)

ELIZABETH: Mother! It's been so long-(she tries to overcome the difficulties and embrace her mother)

CLAIRE: (protecting a box she has) Careful, Elizabeth. We mustn't upset the lice.

ELIZABETH: (retreating) Lice? (but quickly equal even to lice) Oh-yes. You take it-them-off plants, don't you?

CLAIRE: I'm putting them on certain plants.

ELIZABETH: (weakly) Oh, I thought you took them off.

CLAIRE: (calling) Anthony! (he comes) The lice. (he takes them from her) (CLAIRE, who has not fully ascended, looks at ELIZABETH, hesitates, then suddenly starts back down the stairs.)

HARRY: (outraged) Claire! (slowly she re-ascends-sits on the top step. After a long pause in which he has waited for CLAIRE to open a conversation with her daughter.) Well, and what have you been doing at school all this time?

ELIZABETH: Oh-studying.

CLAIRE: Studying what?

ELIZABETH: Why-the things one studies, mother.

CLAIRE: Oh! The things one studies. (looks down cellar again)

d.i.c.k: (after another wait) And what have you been doing besides studying?

ELIZABETH: Oh-the things one does. Tennis and skating and dancing and-

CLAIRE: The things one does.

ELIZABETH: Yes. All the things. The-the things one does. Though I haven't been in school these last few months, you know. Miss Lane took us to Europe.