Contemporary One-Act Plays Part 12

OLLIVANT. [_After a pause._] Then I guess what you _feel_ is stronger than all your mother and I tried to teach you.... Are you too proud to take help from me--now?

MARY. [_Simply._] No, father; till I succeed. Then I'll pay you back like Ben promised.

OLLIVANT. [_Hurt._] You don't think it was the money, daughter? It would have cost to keep you here. It wasn't that.

MARY. No; it was your father speaking and his father and his father.

[_Looking away wistfully._] And perhaps I was speaking for those before me who were silent or couldn't be heard.

OLLIVANT. [_With sincerity._] I don't exactly understand _that_ any more than the feeling you spoke of driving you from home. But I do see what you mean about brothers and sisters. You seem to think boys and girls are the same. But they're not. Men and women are different. You may not know it, but your mother had foolish ideas like you have when I first knew her. She was poor and didn't have a mother to support her, and she had to work for a living. She'd about given up when I met her--trying to work at night to feed herself in the day while studying. But she was sensible; when a good man came along who could support her she married him and settled down. Look how happy she's been here with a home of her own that is a home--with a.s.sociations and children. Where would she be, struggling to-day trying to paint pictures for a living? Why, there's lots of men who can paint pictures, and too few good wives for hard-working, decent men who want a family--which is G.o.d's law. You'll find that out one of these days and you'll give yourself as she did.

Some day a man will come and you'll want to marry him. How could you if you keep on with your work, going about the country?

MARY. [_Quietly._] You leave mother at times, don't you?

OLLIVANT. I've got to.

MARY. So may I.

OLLIVANT. And the children?

MARY. They'd have a share of my life.

OLLIVANT. A mighty big share if you're human, I tell you. Ask your mother if you think they're easy coming and bringing up.

MARY. And now they've left her. Dear mother, what has she to do?

OLLIVANT. Well, if you ever get a husband with those ideas of yours you'll see what a wife has to do. [_He goes to her._] Mary, it isn't easy, all this you've been saying. But your mother and I are left alone, and perhaps we _have_ got different views than you. But if ever you do see it our way, and give up or fail--- well, come back to us, understand?

MARY. [_Going to him and kissing him._] I understand how hard it was for you to say that. And remember I may come back a success.

OLLIVANT. Yes. I suppose they all think that; it's what keeps them going. But some day, when you're in love and marry, you'll see it all differently.

MARY. Father, what if the man does not come--or the children?

OLLIVANT. Why--[_He halts as though unable to answer her._] Nonsense.

He'll come, never fear; they always do.

MARY. I wonder.

OLLIVANT. [_He goes affectionately to_ EMILY_, who has been staring before her during this_.] Emily, dear. No wonder the flowers have been neglected. Well, you'll have time to spray those roses yourself. I'll get the spray mixture to-morrow. [_Kisses her tenderly._] Painting paper dolls with a change of clothes! When I might have been sending her the money without ever feeling it. No more of that, dear; you don't have to now. I shan't let you get tired and sick. That's one thing I draw the line at. [_He pats her again, looks at his watch, and then goes slowly over to the window-doors._] Well, it's getting late. I'll lock up.

[_Looking up at sky._] Paper says it will rain to-morrow.

EMILY. [_Very quietly so only_ MARY _can hear_.] At the art school they said I had a lovely sense of color. Your father is so kind; but he doesn't know how much I enjoyed painting again--even those paper dolls.

MARY. [_Comprehending in surprise._] Mother! You, _too_?

EMILY. [_Fearing lest_ OLLIVANT _should hear_.] s.h.!.+

[OLLIVANT _closes the doors and eyes the women thoughtfully_.]

OLLIVANT. Better fasten the other windows when you come. Good-night.

[_He goes out slowly as mother and daughter sit there together._]

THE CURTAIN FALLS

THE EXCHANGE

BY

ALTHEA THURSTON

_The Exchange_ is reprinted by permission of Althea Thurston. This play is one of the farces written in the Course in Dramatic Composition (English 109) in the University of Utah. For permission to perform, address B. Roland Lewis, Department of English, University of Utah, Salt Lake City, Utah.

ALTHEA THURSTON

Althea Cooms-Thurston, one of the promising writers of the younger set of American dramatists, was born in Iowa, but soon moved with her parents to Colorado, where she spent her girlhood. She was educated in the public schools of Colorado Springs and Denver. Her collegiate training was received in the University of Utah, Salt Lake City. In 1902 she married Walter R. Thurston, a well-known engineer. At present she resides in Dallas, Texas.

Mrs. Thurston has travelled widely and has resided for periods of time in Mexico City and Havana, Cuba. She is an able linguist and has made a special study of her native English tongue and of Spanish and French, all of which she uses fluently.

From childhood she has shown dramatic ability. Her dramatic composition has been more or less directly a.s.sociated with the courses in playwriting and the history of the drama which she completed in the University of Utah. Among her one-act plays are _When a Man's Hungry_, _And the Devil Laughs_, and _The Exchange_.

Mrs. Thurston has an apt.i.tude for delicate and satirical farce. _The Exchange_ is an excellent example of farce-comedy in the contemporary one-act play.

CHARACTERS

JUDGE, _the exchanger of miseries_ IMP, _office boy to the_ JUDGE A POOR MAN A VAIN WOMAN A RICH CITIZEN

THE EXCHANGE[C]

SCENE I

_The curtain rises upon an office scene. Seemingly there is nothing unusual about this office: it has tables, chairs, a filing cabinet, and a hat-rack. A portion of the office is railed off at the right.

Within this enclosed s.p.a.ce is a commodious desk and swivel-chair; and the filing cabinet stands against the wall. This railed-off portion of the office belongs, exclusively, to the_ JUDGE. _Here he is wont to spend many hours--sometimes to read or write, and again, perhaps, he will just sit and ponder upon the vagaries of mankind.

The_ JUDGE _is a tall, spare man with rather long gray hair, which shows beneath the skull-cap that he always wears. When we first see him, he is reading a letter, and evidently he is not pleased, for he is tapping with impatient fingers upon his desk._

_At the left of the stage is a heavily curtained door which leads to an inner room. At centre rear is another door which evidently leads to the street, as it is through this door that the_ POOR MAN, _the_ VAIN WOMAN, _and the_ RICH CITIZEN _will presently enter, each upon his special quest. The hat-rack stands near the street door, and we glimpse a soft black hat and a long black overcoat hanging upon it._

_Down stage to the left is a flat-topped desk, littered with papers and letters. This desk has two large drawers, wherein a number of miscellaneous articles might be kept. It is at this desk that we catch our first glimpse of_ IMP. _He is busily writing in a huge ledger, and he seems to be enjoying his work, for he chuckles the while._ IMP _is a little rogue; he looks it and acts it, and we feel that he has a Mephistophelian spirit. He wears a dark-green tight-fitting uniform, trimmed with red braid. His saucy little round cap is always c.o.c.ked over one eye. He is ever chuckling impishly, and we feel that he is slyly gleeful over the weaknesses of mankind and the difficulties that beset them._