ACT III

SCENE I The back room of a bar in a small hotel

BELLE: Drink up your beer, why don't you? It's getting flat..

RICHARD (embarrassedly): I let it get that way on purpose.

I like it better when it's flat.

BELLE (nodding at the player—piano scornfully): Say,

George, is "Bedelia" the latest to hit this hick burg?

Well, it's only a couple of years old! You'll catch up in

time! Why don't you get a new roll for that old box?

BARTENDER (with a grin): We 're not used to having

Candy Kiddoes like you around

—or maybe we'd get up to date.

BELLE: Don't kid me, please. I can't bear it. "Bedelia, I'd

like to feel yer." Ever hear those words to it, Kid?

RICHARD: Sure, lots of times. That's old.

BELLE: Then why don't you act as if you knew

what they were all about?

RICHARD (terribly flustered) : Sure, I've heard that old parody

lots of times. What do you think I am?

BELLE: I don't know, Kid. Honest to God, you've got me

guessing.

BARTENDER : He's a hot sport, can't you tell it?

I never seen such a spender. My head's

dizzy bringing you in drinks!

BELLE: Don't let him kid you. You show him.

Loosen up and buy another drink, what say?

RICHARD (humiliated—manfully): Sure. Have anything you like.

See what the lady will have—and have one on me yourself.

BARTENDER (coming to the table—with a wink at BELLE):

That's talking! Didn't I say you were a sport? I'll take

a cigar on you . (To BELLE) What's yours, Kiddo—the

same?

BELLE: Yes. And forget the house rules this time and remember

a rickey is supposed to have gin in it.

BARTENDER (grinning) : I'll try to—seeing it's you. (Then

to RICHARD) What's yours—another beer?

RICHARD (shyly): A small one, please. I'm not thirsty.

BELLE: Don't be such a dead one!

Filling up on beer will only make you

sleepy. Have a man's drink!

RICHARD (shamefacedly): All right. I was going to. Bring

me a sloe-gin fizz.

BELLE (to BARTENDER) : And make it a real one.

BARTENDER (with a wink): I get you. Something that'll

warm him up, eh? (He goes into the bar, chuckling.)

BELLE: Christ, what a dump! If this isn't the deadest

burg I ever struck! Bet they take the sidewalks in after

nine o'clock! (Then turning on him) Say, honestly, Kid,

does your mother know you 're out?

RICHARD: Aw, cut it out, why don't you trying to kid me!

BELLE: All right. I didn't mean to, Dearie. Please don't

get sore at me.

RICHARD : I'm not sore.

BELLE (seductively): You see, it's this way with me. I

think you're one of the sweetest kids I've ever met—and

I could like you such a lot if you'd give me half a chance

—instead of acting so cold and indifferent.

RICHARD: I'm not cold and indifferent. (Then solemnly

tragic) It's only that I've got—a weight on my mind.

.BELLE (impatiently): Well, get it off your mind and give

something else a chance to work. (The BARTENDER comes

in, bringing the drinks.)

BARTENDER: This will warm him for you. Forty cents,

that is—with the cigar.

RICHARD: Keep the change.

BARTENDER (respect in his voice): Thank you, sir.

RICHARD (grandly): Don't mention it.

BARTENDER: I hope you like the drink. I took special pains

with it.

THE SALESMAN: (who has just come in the bar, calls)

"Hey! Anybody here?"

BARTENDER: I'm coming.

BELLE: A dime would have been plenty.

RICHARD: Ah, that's all right. I'm no tightwad.

BELLE : That's the talk I like to hear. Keep an eye out for

that bartender, Kid, and tell me if you see him coming.

Girls are only allowed to smoke upstairs in the rooms,

he said.

RICHARD (embarrassedly) : All right. I'll watch.

BELLE (having lighted her cigarette holds the package out to him)

: Have a Sweet? You smoke, don't you?

RICHARD (taking one): Sure! I've been smoking for the

last two years—on the sly. But next year I'll be allowed

—that is, pipes and cigars. Say, you oughtn't

to inhale like that! Smoking's awful bad for girls, anyway,

even if they don't—

BELLE (cynically amused) : Afraid it will stunt my growth?

Gee, Kid, you are a scream! You'll grow up to be a

minister yet! Well, here's how! Bottoms up, now!

Show me you really know how to

drink. It'll take that load off your mind. There! That's

something like! Feel better?

RICHARD (with a shy smile): You bet.

BELLE: Well, you'll feel still better in a minute—and then

maybe you won't be so distant and unfriendly, eh?

RICHARD: I'm not.

BELLE : Yes, you are. I think you just don't like me.

RICHARD (more manfully) : I do too like you.

BELLE: How much? A lot?

RICHARD: Yes, a lot.

BELLE: Show me how much!

Want me to come sit on your lap?

RICHARD: Yes—I—

BELLE: Why don't you put your arm around me? (He

does so awkwardly) No, not that dead way. Hold me

tight. You needn't be afraid of hurting me. I like to be

held tight, don't you ?

RICHARD : Sure I do.

BELLE: Specially when it's by a nice handsome kid like

you. (Ruffling his hair) Gee, you've got pretty hair, do

you know it? Honest, I'm awfully strong for you! Why

can't you be about me? I'm not so awfully ugly, am I?

RICHARD: No, you're—you're pretty.

BELLE : You don't say it as if you meant it.

RICHARD: I do mean it—honest.

BELLE: Then why don't you kiss me?

Call that kissing? Here. (She holds

his head and fastens her lips on his.)

What's the matter, Honey Boy?

Haven't you ever kissed like that before?

RICHARD: Sure. Lot of times.

BELLE : Then why did you jump as if I'd bitten you?

Gee, I'm getting just crazy about you!

What shall we do about it, eh? Tell me.

RICHARD: I—don't know. (Then boldly) I—

I'm crazy about you, too.

BELLE (kissing him again): Just think of the wonderful

time Edith and your friend, Wint, are having upstairs

—while we sit down here like two dead ones. A room

only costs two dollars. And, seeing I like you so much,

I'd only take five dollars—from you. I'd do it for nothing—

for you—only I've got to live and I owe my room

rent in New Haven—and you know how it is. I get

ten dollars from everyone else. Honest! (She kisses him

again, then gets up from his lap—briskly) Come on.

Go out and tell the bartender you want a room. And

hurry. Honest, I'm so strong for you I can hardly wait

to get you upstairs!

RICHARD: I can't.

BELLE: What, are you too bashful to ask for a room? Let

me do it, then. (She starts for the door.)

RICHARD (desperately): No—I don't want you to—I don't

want to.

BELLE: Well, if you aren't the lousiest cheap skate!

RICHARD: I'm not a cheap skate!

BELLE: Keep me around here all night fooling with

you when I might be out with some real live one—If there

is such a thing in this burg!—and now you quit on me!

Don't be such a piker! You've got five dollars! I seen it

when you paid for the drinks, so don't hand me any lies!

RICHARD: I—I m not a piker. If you need the five dollars

so bad—for your room rent you

can have it without—I mean, I'll be glad to give—

BELLE: Thanks, Kid. Gee—oh, thanks

—Gee, forgive me for losing my temper and bawling

you out, will you? Gee, you're a regular peach ! You're

the nicest kid I've ever met! Gee, you're a peach!

Thanks, again!

RICHARD : It's—nothing—only too glad. (Then boldly)

Here—give me another ' kiss, and that'll pay me back.

BELLE (kissing him): I'll give you a thousand, if you

want 'em. Come on, let's sit down, and we'll have another

drink—and this time I'll blow you just to show

my appreciation. (She calls) Hey, George! bring us another

round—the same!

RICHARD: I don't know as I ought to

BELLE: Oh, another won't hurt you. And I want to blow

you, see. (They sit down in their former places.)

RICHARD: I like you a lot—now I'm getting to know you.

You're a darned nice girl.

BELLE: Nice is good! Tell me another! Well, if I'm so nice,

why didn't you want to take me upstairs? That's what I don't get.

RICHARD (lying boldly): I did want to—only I—

I've sworn off.

BARTENDER: Here's your pleasure.

Ho—ho, We're coming on, I see.

BELLE: Here. This is mine. Here's how—and thanks again. (She sips.)

RICHARD (boisterously) : Bottoms up! Bottoms up!

Gee, that's good stuff, all right. (Hugging her)

Give me another kiss, Belle.

BELLE (kisses him) : What did you mean a minute ago

when you said you'd sworn off?

RICHARD (solemnly): I took an oath I'd be faithful.

BELLE (bristling): I'm not good enough to talk about her,

I suppose?

RICHARD: I didn't—mean that. You're all right.

Only you oughtn't to lead this kind

of life. It isn't right—for a nice girl like you. Why don't

you reform?

BELLE (sharply): Nix on that line of talk! Can it, you

hear! You can do a lot with me for five dollars—but

you can't reform me, see. Mind your own business, Kid,

and don't butt in where you're not wanted!

RICHARD: I—I didn't mean to hurt your feelings.

BELLE: I know you didn't mean. You're only like a lot of

people who mean well, to hear them tell it.

So you're faithful to your one love, eh?

And how about her? Bet you she's

out with a guy under some bush this minute, giving

him all he wants. Don't be a sucker, Kid! Even the little

flies do it!

RICHARD: Don't you say that! Don't you dare!

BELLE: All right. Have it your own way and be a sucker!

It cuts no ice with me.

RICHARD: You don't know her or. —

BELLE: And don't want to. Shut up about her, can't you?

SALESMAN (grinning genially) : Good evening.

BELLE: Good evening.

SALESMAN (sitting down): Hope I'm not butting in on

your party—but my dogs were giving out standing at

that bar.

BELLE: All right with me. I've got no party on.

SALESMAN: That sounds hopeful.

RICHARD (suddenly recites sentimentally):

"But I wouldn't do such, 'cause I loved her too much,

But I learned about women from her."

Let's have 'nother drink!

BELLE : You've had enough.

SALESMAN: What is it—a child poet or a child actor?

BELLE : Don't know. Got me guessing.

SALESMAN : Well, if you could shake the cradle-robbing

act, maybe we could do a little business.

BELLE: That's easy. I just pull my freight. (She shakes

RICHARD by the arm) Listen, Kid. Here's an old friend

of mine, Mr. Smith of New Haven, just come in. I'm

going over and sit at his table for a while, see. And you

better go home.

RICHARD (blinking at her and scowling): I'm never going

home! I'll show them!

BELLE: Have it your own way—only let me up.

RICHARD: Go on. What do I care what you do? (He recites

scornfully) "For a woman's only a woman, but a good

cigar's a smoke."

SALESMAN (as BELLE sits beside him): Well, what kind of

beer will you have, Sister?

BELLE: Mine's a gin rickey.

SALESMAN: You've got extravagant tastes, I'm sorry to see.

RICHARD (begins to recite sepulchrally):

"Yet each man kills the thing he loves,

By each let this be heard."

SALESMAN (grinning) : Say, this is rich! (He calls encouragement)

That's swell dope, young feller. Give us some more.

RICHARD (ignoring him—goes on more rhetorically):

"Some do it with a bitter look,

Some with a flattering word,

The coward does it with a kiss,

The brave man with a sword!"

I did it with a kiss! I'm a coward.

SALESMAN: That's the old stuff, Kid. You've got something

on the ball, all right, all right! Give us another—right

over the old pan, now!

BELLE (with a laugh) : Get the hook!

RICHARD (glowering at her—tragically):

"'Oho,' they cried,' the world is wide,

But fettered limbs go lame!

And once, or twice, to throw the dice

Is a gentlemanly game,

But he does not win who plays with Sin

In the secret House of Shame!'''

BELLE (angrily): Aw, can it! Give us a rest from that bunk!

SALESMAN (mockingly): My middle name is Kelly and Sheets!

Give us some more of the same!

RICHARD (suddenly—with a dire emphasis): "And then at —

ten o'clock—Eilert Lovborg will come—with vine

leaves in his hair!"

BELLE: And bats in his belfry, if he's you!

RICHARD: You leave her alone, you hear! You won't do anything

to her—not while I'm here to protect her!

BELLE (laughing) : Oh, my God! Listen to it!

SALESMAN: Ssshh! This is a scream! Wait!

Curse you, Jack Dalton, if I won't unhand her, what then?

'.

RICHARD (threateningly): I'll give you a good punch in the

snoot, that's what!

SALESMAN (with mock terror): Help! Help!

(The BARTENDER comes in irritably.)

BARTENDER: Hey. Cut out the noise. What the hell's up with

you?

RICHARD (tipsily): He's too—damn fresh!

SALESMAN (with a wink): He's going to murder me.

(Then gets a bright idea for eliminating RICHARD seriously

to the BARTENDER) It's none of my business,

Brother, but if I were in your boots I'd give this young

souse the gate. He's under age; any fool can see that.

BARTENDER (guiltily): He told me he was over eighteen.

SALESMAN: Yes, and I tell you I'm the Pope—but you don't

have to believe me.

BARTENDER: Hmm. Come on, now. On your way! You'll start

no trouble in here! Beat it now!

RICHARD: I will not beat it!

BARTENDER: Oho, won't you?

BELLE (callously): Give him the bum's rush! I'm sick of

his bull!

BARTENDER (avoids the punch): Aha, you would, would

you!

RICHARD: Leggo of me, you dirty coward!

BARTENDER: Quiet now—or I'll pin a Mary Ann on your

jaw that'll quiet you!

SALESMAN (with a chuckle): Hand it to me, Kid. How

was that for a slick way of getting rid of him?

BELLE (suddenly sentimental): Poor kid. I hope he makes

home all right. I liked him—before he got soused.

SALESMAN: Who is he?

BELLE: Name's Miller. His old man runs a paper

in this one-horse burg, I think he said.

SALESMAN (with a whistle): Phew! Brother. Know Nat Miller

who runs the Globe? That's his kid. I'll go keep

cases on him—see he gets on the trolley all right, anyway.

(He hurries out.)

BARTENDER (viciously): Why didn't you put me wise,

you lousy tramp, you!

BELLE: Hey! I don't stand for that kind of talk—not from

no hick beer-squirter like you, see!

BARTENDER (furiously): You don't, don't you?

Beat it, you—and beat it quick—or I'll call Sullivan

from the corner and have you run in for streetwalking!

BELLE : I'll fix you for this, you thick Mick, if I have

to go to jail for it.

BARTENDER: Them lousy tramps is always getting

this dump in Dutch!

SCENE II

SCENE—Same as Act one—Sitting-room of the Miller home

—about 11 o'clock the same night.

MILDRED: Look, Ma. I've been practicing

a new way of writing my name. Don't look at the

others, only the last one. Don't you think it's the real

goods?

MRS. MILLER: Don't talk that horrible slang. My goodness,

when I was your age, if my mother'd ever heard me—

MILDRED: Well, don't you think it's nice, then?

MRS. MILLER: Yes, very nice, Mildred—very nice, indeed.

MILDRED: Absent-minded! I don't believe you even saw it.

MRS. MILLER: Oh, I do wish Richard would come home!

MILLER: There now, Essie. He'll be in any minute now.

Don't you worry about him.

LILY: This is fine, Mildred. Your penmanship is improving

wonderfully. But don't you think that maybe you've got a little

too many flourishes?

MILDRED (disappointedly): But, Aunt Lily, that's just what

I was practicing hardest on.

MRS. MILLER (with another sigh): What time is it now, Nat?

MILLER (adopting a joking tone): I'm going to buy a

clock for in here. You have me reaching for my watch

every couple of minutes. Only a little past ten.

MRS. MILLER: Why, you said it was that an hour ago! Nat

Miller, you're telling me a fib, so's not to worry me. You

let me see that watch!

MILLER (guiltily): Well, it's quarter to eleven—but that's

not so late—when you remember it's Fourth of July.

MRS. MILLER : If you don't stop talking Fourth of July—!

To hear you go on, you'd think that was an excuse for ,

anything from murder to picking pockets!

MILDRED: Look, Pa.

MILLER: Let's see. Hmm. Seems to me you've been

inventing a new signature every week lately.

What are you in training for —writing checks ?

You must be planning to catch a rich husband.

MILDRED (with an arch toss of her head) : No wedding bells

for me! But how do you like it, Pa?

MILLER: It's overpowering—no other word for it, overpowering!

You could put it on the Declaration of Independence

and not feel ashamed .

MRS. MILLER (desolately): It's all right for you to

laugh and joke with Mildred!

I'm the only one in this house seems to care—(Her lips

tremble.)

MILDRED (a bit disgustedly): Ah, Ma, Dick only sneaked

off to the fireworks at the beach, you wait and see.

MRS. MILLER: Those fireworks were over long ago. If he

had, he'd be home.

LILY (soothingly): He probably couldn't get a seat, the

trolleys are so jammed, and he had to walk home.

MILLER (seizing on this with relief): Yes, I never thought

of that, but I'll bet that's it.

MILDRED: Ah, don't let him worry you, Ma. He just wants

to show off he's heartbroken about that silly Muriel and

get everyone fussing over him and wondering if he

hasn't drowned himself or something.

MRS. MILLER (snappily) : You be quiet! The way you talk

at times, I really believe you're that hard-hearted you

haven't got a heart in you! One thing I know, you don't get that

from me!

TOMMY: Let me see what you wrote, Mid.

MILDRED (cruelly mocking): You? You're so sleepy you

couldn't see it.

TOMMY (valiantly): I am not sleepy!

MRS. MILLER (has fixed her eye on him): My gracious, I

was forgetting you were still up! You run up to bed

this minute! It's hours past your bedtime!

TOMMY: But it's the Fourth of July. Ain't it, Pa?

MRS. MILLER: There! You see what you've done?

You might know he'd copy your excuses!

(Then sharply to TOMMY) You heard what

I said, Young Man!

TOMMY: Aw, Ma, can't I stay up a little longer?

MRS. MILLER: I said, no! You obey me and no more arguing

about it!

TOMMY : Aw! I should think I could stay up till Dick—

MILLER (kindly but firmly) : You heard your rna say no

more arguing. When she says git, you better git.

TOMMY (kissing her): Good night, Aunt Lily.

LILY: Good night, dear. Sleep well.

TOMMY (pecking at MILDRED) : Good night, you.

MILDRED: Good night, you.

TOMMY (kissing him): Good night, Pa.

MILLER: Good night, Son. Sleep tight.

TOMMY (kissing her): Good night, Ma.

MRS. MILLER: Good night. Here! You look feverish. Let me

feel of your head. No, you're all right. Hurry up, now.

And don't forget your prayers.

TOMMY: Here's another thing, Ma. When I was up to the

water closet last—

MRS. MILLER (sharply): When you were where?

TOMMY: The bathroom.

MRS. MILLER: That's better.

TOMMY : Uncle Sid was snoring like a fog horn—and he's

right next to my room. How can I ever get to sleep

while he's—

MRS. MILLER: I guess you'd get to sleep all right if you were

inside a fog horn. You run along now.

What time is it now, Nat?

MILLER: Now, Essie, I just told you a minute ago.

MRS. MILLER (resentfully): I don't see how you can take

it so calm! Here it's midnight, you might say, and our

Richard still out, and we don't even know where he is.

MILDRED: I hear someone on the piazza. Bet that's him now,

Ma.

MRS. MILLER (her anxiety immediately turning to relieved

anger): You give him a good piece of your mind, Nat,

you hear me! You're too easy with him, that's the whole

trouble! The idea of him daring to stay out like this!

MILDRED: No, that isn't Dick. It's Art.

MRS. MILLER (her face falling) : Oh.

MILLER: So you're back, eh? We thought it was Richard.

ARTHUR: Is he still out? Where'd he go to?

MILLER: That's just what we'd like to know. You didn't

run into him anywhere, did you?

ARTHUR : No. I've been at the Rands' ever since dinner. I suppose

he sneaked off to the beach to watch the fireworks.

MILLER: Of course. That's what we've been trying to tell your

mother, but she insists on worrying her head off.

MRS. MILLER: But if he was going to the fireworks, why

wouldn't he say so? He knew we'd let him.

ARTHUR (with calm wisdom): That's easy, Ma.

Didn't you hear him this morning showing

off bawling out the Fourth like an anarchist? He

wouldn't want to reneg on that to you—but he'd want to

see the old fireworks just the same. (He adds complacently)

I know. He's at the foolish age.

MILLER: W ell, Arthur, by gosh, you make me feel

as if lowed you an apology when you talk horse sense

like that. (He turns to his wife, greatly relieved) Arthur's

hit the nail right on the head, I think, Essie. That was

what I couldn't figure out—why he—but now it's clear

as day.

MRS. MILLER (with a sigh ) : Well, I hope you're right. But

I wish he was home.

ARTHUR He oughtn't to be allowed out this

late at his age. I wasn't, Fourth or no Fourth—if I remember,

MILLER (a twinkle in his eyes) : Don't tax your memory

trying to recall those ancient days of your youth.

ARTHUR (importantly): We had a corking dinner at the

Rands'. We had sweetbreads on toast.

MRS. MILLER: Just like the Rands to put on airs before you!

I never could see anything to sweetbreads. Always taste like

soap to me. And no real nourishment to them. I wouldn't

have the pesky things on my table!

MILDRED (teasingly) : Did you kiss Elsie good night?

ARTHUR: Stop trying to be so darn funny all the time! You

give me a pain in the ear!

MILDRED: And that's where she gives me a pain, the stuck-up

thing!—thinks she's the whole cheese!

MILLER (irritably): And that's where your everlasting

wrangling gives me a pain, you two! Give us a rest!

MRS. MILLER: I do wish that boy would get home!

MILLER: Arthur, what's this I hear about your having such a

good singing voice? Rand was telling me he liked nothing

better than to hear you sing—said you did every

night you were up there. Why don't you ever give us

folks at home here a treat?

ARTHUR : I thought you'd only sit on me.

MRS. MILLER (perking up—proudly) : Arthur has a real nice

voice. He practices when you're not at home. I didn't

know you cared for singing, Nat.

MILLER: Well, I do—nothing better—and when I was a

boy I had a fine voice myself and folks used to say I'd

ought— Hmm. But don't hide your light under a bushel,

Arthur. Why not give us a song or two now? You can

play for him, can't you, Mildred?

MILDR ED (with a toss of her head): I can play as well as

Elsie Rand, at least!

ARTHUR (ignoring her—clearing his throat importantly):

I've been singing a lot tonight. I don't know if my voice—

MILDRED: Come on. Don't play modest. You know

you're just dying to show off.

ARTHUR: Let go of me, you! (Then with surly dignity) I

don't feel like singing tonight, Pa. I will some other

time.

MILLER: You let him alone, Mildred!

ARTHUR (puts aside his pipe and gets up promptly): Oh sure,

I'll do the best I can.

MILLER (to his wife): It won't keep Tommy awake.

Nothing could. And Sid, he'd sleep through an earthquake.

Darn it, speak of the devil, here he

comes. Well, he's had a good sleep and he'd ought to be

sobered up. Lily, you just sit down and read your

book and don't pay any attention to him.

SID: Hello.

MILLER：Hello, Sid. Had a good nap? ...Ssshh!

Arthur is going to sing for us.

(Arthur sings)

Well done, Arthur—well done! Why, you've got

a splendid voice! Give us some morel You liked that,

didn't you, Essie?

MRS. MILLER (dolefully) : Yes—but it's sad—terrible sad.

SID (suddenly blurts out) : Nat and Essie—

and Lily—I—I want to apologize—for coming

home—the way I did—there's no excuse—but I didn't

mean—

MILLER (sympathetically): Of course, Sid. It's all forgotten.

MRS. MILLER (affectionately pitying): Don't

be a goose, Sid. We know how it is with picnics. You

forget it.

SID (finally blurts out desperately): Lily—I'm sorry—about

the fireworks. Can you—forgive me?

MILLER (comes to SID'S rescue) : Ssshh! We're going to have

another song. Sit down, Sid.

(Arthur sings)

Mighty fine, Arthur! You sang that

darned well! Didn't he, Essie?

MRS. MILLER (dolefully): Yes—But I wish he wouldn't sing

such sad songs. (Then, her lips trembling) Richard's always

whistling that.

MILLER (hastily—calls): Give us something cheery, next

one, Arthur. You know, just for variety's sake.

SID: You're right, Lily!—right not to forgive me!

I'm no good and never will be!—

I'm a no-good drunken bum!—you shouldn't

even wipe your feet on me!—I'm a dirty, rotten drunk!

—no good to myself or anybody else!—if I had any guts

I'd kill myself, and good riddance!—but I haven't!—I'm

yellow, too!—a yellow, drunken bum!

LILY: There! Don't cry, Sid! I can't bear it! Of course, I

forgive you! Haven't I always forgiven you? I know

you're not to blame—So don't, Sid!

SID : Do you really forgive me—I know I don't deserve

it—can you really—?

LILY (gently): I told you I did, Sid—and I do.

SID: Thanks, Lily. I can't tell you—

(Song.)

MILLER: That's fine, Arthur and Mildred . That's darned

good.

SID (turning to LILY enthusiastically): You ought to hear

Vesta Victoria sing that! Gosh, she's great! I heard her

at Hammerstein's Victoria—you remember, that trip I

made to New York.

LILY: Yes, I remember, Sid. '

MRS. MILLER (suddenly): What time is it now, Nat? Oh, I'm getting

worried something dreadful, Nat! You don't know what

might have happened to Richard! You read in the papers

every day about boys getting run over by automobiles.

LILY: Oh, don't say that, Essie!

MILLER: Don't get to imagining things, now!

MRS. MILLER: Well, why couldn't it happen, with everyone

that owns one out tonight, and lots of those driving,

drunk? Or he might have gone down to the beach dock,

and fallen overboard! Oh, I know something dreadful's

happened! And you can sit there listening to songs and

laughing as if—Why don't you do something?

Why don't you go out and find him?

(She bursts into tears.)

LILY: Essie, you mustn't worry so! You'll make yourself sick!

Richard's all right. I've got a feeling in my bones he's

all right.

MILLER I was going out to look—if he wasn't back by twelve sharp.

That'd be the time it'd take him to walk from the beach

if he left after the last car. But I'll go now, if it'll ease

your mind. I'll take the auto and drive out the beach

road—and likely pick him up on the way.

You better come with me, Arthur.

ARTHUR: Sure thing, Pa, (Suddenly he listens and says)

Ssshh! There's someone on the piazza now—coming

around to this door, too. That must be him. No one else

would—

MRS. MILLER: Oh, thank God, thank God!

MILLER (with a sheepish smile): Darn him! I've a notion

to give him hell for worrying us all like this.

MRS. MILLER: Oh, God, what's happened to him! He's gone

crazy! Richard!

SID : Crazy, nothing. He's only soused!

ARTHUR: He's drunk, that's what! (Then shocked and condemning)

You've got your nerve! You fresh kid! We'll

take that out of you when we get you down to Yale!

RICHARD (with a wild gesture of defiance) :

"Yesterday this Day's Madness did prepare

Tomorrow's Silence, Triumph, or Despair.

Drink! for—"

MILLER: Richard! How dare—!

MRS. MILLER (hysterically): Don't you strike him, Nat!

Don't you—!

SID (grabbing his arm): Steady, Nat! Keep your temper!

No good bawling him out now! He don't know what

he's doing!

MILLER All right—you're right, Sid.

RICHARD (drunkenly):

"And then—I will come—with vine leaves in my hair! "

MRS. MILLER : Richard! You're intoxicated!—you bad, wicked

boy, you!

RICHARD: "Fancy that, Hedda!"

Ma! I feel—rotten!

SID : You let me take care of him, Essie. I know this game

backwards.

MILLER: Yes, you leave him to Sid.

SID: Come on, Old Sport! Upstairs we go!

Your old Uncle Sid'll fix you up. He's the kid that wrote

the book!

MRS. MILLER: Oh, it's too terrible! Imagine our Richard!

And did you hear him talking about some Hedda?

Oh , I know he's been with one of those bad women,

I know he has—my Richard!

MILLER: Now, now, you mustn't get to imagining

such things! You mustn't, Essie!