The Straw Part 4

EILEEN. It won't be long. We can write often, and it isn't far away.

You can come out and see me every Sunday--if you want to.

NICHOLLS (_hastily_). Of course I will!

EILEEN (_looking at his face searchingly_). Why do you act so funny?

Why don't you sit down--here, by me? Don't you want to?

NICHOLLS (_drawing up a chair by hers--flus.h.i.+ng guiltily_). I--I'm all fl.u.s.tered, Eileen. I don't know what I'm doing.

EILEEN (_putting her hand on his knee_). Poor Fred! I'm so sorry I have to go. I didn't want to at first. I knew how hard it would be on father and the kids--especially little Mary. (_Her voice trembles a bit._) And then the doctor said if I stayed I'd be putting them all in danger. He even ordered me not to kiss them any more. (_She bites her lip to restrain a sob--then coughs, a soft, husky cough._ Nicholls _shrinks away from her to the edge of his chair, his eyes s.h.i.+fting nervously with fright._ Eileen _continues gently._) So I've got to go and get well, don't you see?

NICHOLLS (_wetting his dry lips_). Yes--it's better.

EILEEN (_sadly_). I'll miss the kids so much. Taking care of them has meant so much to me since mother died. (_With a half-sob she suddenly throws her arms about his neck and hides her face on his shoulder. He shudders and fights against an impulse to push her away._) But I'll miss you most of all, Fred. (_She lifts her lips towards his, expecting a kiss. He seems about to kiss her--then averts his face with a shrinking movement, pretending he hasn't seen._ Eileen's _eyes grow wide with horror. She throws herself back into her chair, staring accusingly at_ Nicholls. _She speaks chokingly._) Fred! Why--why didn't you kiss--what is it? Are you--afraid? (_With a moaning sound._) Oooh!

NICHOLLS (_goaded by this accusation into a display of manhood, seizes her fiercely by the arms_). No! What--what d'you mean? (_He tries to kiss her, but she hides her face._)

EILEEN (_in a m.u.f.fled voice of hysterical self-accusation, pus.h.i.+ng his head away_). No, no, you mustn't! I was wrong. The doctor told you not to, didn't he? Please don't, Fred! It would be awful if anything happened to you--through me. (Nicholls _gives up his attempts, recalled to caution by her words. She raises her face and tries to force a smile through her tears._) But you can kiss me on the forehead, Fred. That can't do any harm. (_His face crimson, he does so. She laughs hysterically._) It seems so silly--being kissed that way--by you. (_She gulps back a sob and continued to attempt to joke._) I'll have to get used to it, won't I?

THE CURTAIN FALLS

Act One: Scene Two.

_The reception room of the Infirmary, a large, high-ceilinged room painted white, with oiled, hard wood floor. In the left wall, forward, a row of four windows. Farther back, the main entrance from the drive, and another window. In the rear wall left, a gla.s.s part.i.tion looking out on the sleeping porch. A row of white beds, with the faces of patients barely peeping out from under piles of heavy bed-clothes, can be seen. To the right of this part.i.tion, a bookcase, and a door leading to the hall past the patients' rooms.

Farther right, another door opening on the examining room. In the right wall, rear, a door to the office. Farther forward, a row of windows. In front of the windows, a long dining-table with chairs.

On the left of the table, towards the centre of the room, a chimney with two open fire-places, facing left and right. Several wicker armchairs are placed around the fire-place on the left in which a cheerful wood fire is crackling. To the left of centre, a round reading and writing table with a green-shaded electric lamp. Other electric lights are in brackets around the walls. Easy chairs stand near the table, which is stacked with magazines. Rocking chairs are placed here and there about the room, near the windows, etc. A gramophone stands near the left wall, forward._

_It is nearing eight o'clock of a cold evening about a week later._

_At the rise of the curtain_ Stephen Murray _is discovered sitting in a chair in front of the fireplace, left._ Murray _is thirty years old--a tall, slender, rather unusual-looking fellow with a pale face, sunken under high cheek bones, lined about the eyes and mouth, jaded and worn for one still so young. His intelligent, large hazel eyes have a tired, dispirited expression in repose, but can quicken instantly with a concealed mechanism of mocking, careless humour whenever his inner privacy is threatened. His large mouth aids this process of protection by a quick change from its set apathy to a cheerful grin of cynical good nature. He gives off the impression of being somehow dissatisfied with himself, but not yet embittered enough by it to take it out on others. His manner, as revealed by his speech--nervous, inquisitive, alert--seems more an acquired quality than any part of his real nature. He stoops a trifle, giving him a slightly round-shouldered appearance. He is dressed in a shabby dark suit, baggy at the knees. He is staring into the fire, dreaming, an open book lying unheeded on the arm of his chair. The gramophone is whining out the last strains of Dvorak's Humoresque. In the doorway to the office,_ Miss Gilpin _stands talking to_ Miss Howard. _The former is a slight, middle-aged woman with black hair, and a strong, intelligent face, its expression of resolute efficiency softened and made kindly by her warm, sympathetic grey eyes._ Miss Howard _is tall, slender and blonde--decidedly pretty and provokingly conscious of it, yet with a certain air of seriousness underlying her apparent frivolity. She is twenty years old. The elder woman is dressed in the all-white of a full-fledged nurse._ Miss Howard _wears the grey-blue uniform of one still in training. The record finishes._ Murray _sighs with relief, but makes no move to get up and stop the grinding needle._ Miss Howard _hurries across to the machine._ Miss Gilpin _goes back into the office._

MISS HOWARD (_takes off the record, glancing at_ Murray _with amused vexation_). It's a wonder you wouldn't stop this machine grinding itself to bits, Mr. Murray.

MURRAY (_with a smile_). I was hoping the darn thing would bust. (Miss Howard _sniffs._ Murray _grins at her teasingly._) It keeps you from talking to me. That's the real music.

MISS HOWARD (_comes over to his chair laughing_). It's easy to see you've got Irish in you. Do you know what I think? I think you're a natural born kidder. All newspaper reporters are like that, I've heard.

MURRAY. You wrong me terribly. (_Then frowning._) And it isn't charitable to remind me of my job. I hoped to forget all about it up here.

MISS HOWARD (_surprised_). I think it's great to be able to write. I wish I could. You ought to be proud of it.

MURRAY (_glumly_). I'm not. You can't call it writing--not what I did--small town stuff. (_Changing the subject._) But I wanted to ask you something. Do you know when I'm to be moved away to the huts?

MISS HOWARD. In a few days, I guess. Don't be impatient. (Murray _grunts and moves nervously on his chair._) What's the matter? Don't you like us here at the Sanatorium?

MURRAY (_smiling_). Oh--you--yes! (_Then seriously._) I don't care for the atmosphere, though. (_He waves his hand towards the part.i.tion looking out on the porch._) All those people in bed out there on the porch seem so sick. It's depressing. I can't do anything for them--and--it makes me feel so helpless.

MISS HOWARD. Well, it's the rules, you know. All the patients have to come here first until Doctor Stanton finds out whether they're well enough to be sent out to the huts and cottages. And remember you're a patient just like the ones in bed out there--even if you are up and about.

MURRAY. I know it. But I don't feel as I were--really sick like them.

MISS HOWARD (_wisely_). None of them do, either.

MURRAY (_after a moment's reflection--cynically_). Yes, I suppose it's that pipe dream that keeps us all going, eh?

MISS HOWARD. Well, you ought to be thankful. You're very lucky, if you knew it. (_Lowering her voice._) Shall I tell you a secret? I've seen your chart and _you've_ no cause to worry. Doctor Stanton joked about it. He said you were too uninteresting--there was so little the matter with you.

MURRAY (_pleased, but pretending indifference_). Humph! He's original in that opinion.

MISS HOWARD. I know it's hard your being the only one up the week since you've been here, with no one to talk to; but there's another patient due to-day. Maybe she'll be well enough to be around with you. (_With a quick glance at her wrist watch._) She can't be coming unless she got in on the last train.

MURRAY (_interestedly_). It's a she, eh?

MISS HOWARD. Yes.

MURRAY (_grinning provokingly_). Young?

MISS HOWARD. Eighteen, I believe. (_Seeing his grin--with feigned pique._) I suppose you'll be asking if she's pretty next! Oh, you men are all alike, sick or well. Her name is Carmody, that's the only other thing I know. So there!

MURRAY. Carmody?

MISS HOWARD. Oh, you don't know her. She's from another part of the state from your town.

MISS GILPIN (_appearing in the office doorway_). Miss Howard.

MISS HOWARD. Yes, Miss Gilpin. (_In an aside to Murray __as she leaves him._) It's time for those horrid diets.

(_She hurries back into the office._ Murray _stares into the fire._ Miss Howard _reappears from the office and goes out by the door to the hall, rear. Carriage wheels are heard from the drive in front of the house on the left. They stop. After a pause there is a sharp rap on the door and a bell rings insistently. Men's m.u.f.fled voices are heard in argument._ Murray _turns curiously in his chair._ Miss Gilpin _comes from the office and walks quickly to the door, unlocking and opening it._ Eileen _enters, followed by_ Nicholls, _who is carrying her suit-case, and by her father._)

EILEEN. I'm Miss Carmody. I believe Doctor Gaynor wrote----

MISS GILPIN (_taking her hand--with kind affability_). We've been expecting you all day. How do you do? I'm Miss Gilpin. You came on the last train, didn't you?

EILEEN (_heartened by the other woman's kindness_). Yes. This is my father, Miss Gilpin--and Mr. Nicholls.

(Miss Gilpin _shakes hands cordially with the two men who are staring about the room in embarra.s.sment._ Carmody _has very evidently been drinking. His voice is thick and his face puffed and stupid._ Nicholls' _manner is that of one who is accomplis.h.i.+ng a necessary but disagreeable duty with the best grace possible, but is frightfully eager to get it over and done with._ Carmody's _condition embarra.s.ses him acutely and when he glances at him it is with hatred and angry disgust._)

MISS GILPIN (_indicating the chairs in front of the windows on the left, forward_). Won't you gentlemen sit down? (Carmody _grunts sullenly and plumps himself into the one nearest the door._ Nicholls _hesitates, glancing down at the suit-case he carries._ Miss Gilpin _turns to_ Eileen.) And now we'll get you settled immediately. Your room is all ready for you. If you'll follow me---- (_She turns toward the door in rear, centre._)

EILEEN. Let me take the suit-case now, Fred.

MISS GILPIN (_as he is about to hand it to her--decisively_). No, my dear, you mustn't. Put the case right down there, Mr. Nicholls. I'll have it taken to Miss Carmody's room in a moment. (_She shakes her finger at_ Eileen _with kindly admonition._) That's the first rule you'll have to learn. Never exert yourself or tax your strength. It's very important. You'll find laziness is a virtue instead of a vice with us.