ACT IV-3

SCENE III The sitting-room of the Miller house again—about

10 o'clock the same night.

MILLER: This Shaw's a comical cuss —even if

his ideas are so crazy they oughtn't to allow them to

be printed. And that Swinburne's got a fine swing to

his poetry—if he'd only choose some other subjects besides

loose women.

MRS. MILLER (smiling teasingly): I can see where you're

becoming corrupted by those books, too—pretending to

read them out of duty to Richard, when your nose has

been glued to the page!

MILLER: No, no—but I've got to be honest. There's something

to them. That Rubaiyat of Omar Khayyam, now.

I read that over again and liked it even better than I had

before—parts of it, that is, where it isn't all about boozing.

MRS. MILLER : My, but I'm glad Mildred told me

where Richard went off to. I'd have worried my heart out

if she hadn't. But now, it's all right.

MILLER (frowning a little): I'd hardly go so far as to say

that. Just because we know he's all right tonight doesn't

mean last night is wiped out. He's still got to be punished

for that.

MRS. MILLER (defensively): Well, if you ask me, I think

after the way I punished him all day, and the way I know

he's punished himself, he's had about all he deserves.

I've told you how sorry he was, and how he said he'd

never touch liquor again. It didn't make him feel happy

like Sid, but only sad and sick, so he didn't see anything

in it for him.

MILLER: Well, if he's really got that view of it driven into

his skull, I don't know but I'm glad it all happened.

That'll protect him more than a thousand lectures just

horse sense about himself.

Still, I can't let him do such things and go scot-free.

And then; besides, there's another side to it—

MRS. MILLER (uneasily): What do you mean, another side?

MILLER (hastily): I mean, discipline. There's got to be

some discipline in a family. I don't want him to get the

idea he's got a stuffed shirt at the head of the table. No,

he's got to be punished, if only to make the lesson stick

in his mind, and I'm going to tell him he can't go to

Yale, seeing he's so undependable.

MRS. MILLER (up in arms at once): Not go to Yale! I

guess he can go to Yale! Every man of your means in

town is sending his boys to college! What would folks

think of you? You let Wilbur go, and you'd have let

Lawrence, only he didn't want to, and you're letting

Arthur! If our other children can get the benefit of a

college education, you're not going to pick on Richard—

MILLER: Hush up, for God's sake! If you'd let me finish

what I started to say! I said I'd tell him that now—bluff

—then later on I'll change my mind, if he behaves himself.

MRS. MILLER: Oh, well, if that's all—

But it's your duty to give him every benefit. He's

got an exceptional brain, that boy has! He's proved it by

the way he likes to read all those deep plays and books

and poetry.

MILLER: But I thought you—(He stops, grinning helplessly.)

MRS. MILLER: You thought I what?

MILLER: Never mind.

MRS. MILLER: You mark my words, that boy's going to

turn out to be a great lawyer, or a great doctor,

or a great writer, or—

MILLER (grinning): You agree he's going to be great, anyway.

MRS. .MILLER: Yes, I most certainly have a lot of faith in

Richard.

MILLER: Well, so have I, as far as that goes.

MRS. MILLER (after a pause—judicially): And as for his

being in love with Muriel, I don't see but what it might

work out real well. Richard could do worse.

MILLER: But I thought you had no use for her, thought she

was stupid.

MRS. MILLER: Well, so I did, but if she's good for Richard

and he wants her—(Then inconsequentially) Ma used

to say you weren't over-bright, but she changed her mind

when she saw I didn't care if you were or not.

MILLER (not exactly pleased by this) : Well, I've been

bright enough to—

MRS. MILLER (going on as if he had not spoken): And

Muriel's real cute-looking, I have to admit that. Takes

after her mother. Alice Briggs was the prettiest girl before

she married.

MILLER: Yes, and Muriel will get big as a house after she's

married, the same as her mother did. That's the trouble.

A man never can tell what he's letting himself in for—

(He stops, feeling his wife's eyes fixed on him with

indignant suspicion.)

MRS. MILLER (sharply): I'm not too fat and don't you say it!

MILLER: Who was talking about you?

MRS. MILLER : And I'd rather have some flesh on my bones

than be built like a string bean and bore a hole in a

chair every time I sat down—like some people!

MILLER (ignoring the insult—flatteringly): Why, no one'd

ever call you fat, Essie. You're only plump, like a good

figure ought to be.

MRS. MILLER (childishly pleased): Well, you're not

skinny, either—only slender—and

I think you've been putting on weight lately, too.

MILLER: You don't mean to tell me you're actually taking

this Muriel crush of Richard's seriously, do you? I know

it's a good thing to encourage right now but—pshaw,

why, Richard'll probably forget all about her before

he's away six months, and she'll have forgotten him.

MRS. MILLER: Don't be so cynical. Well, anyway,

he'll always have it to remember—

no matter what happens after—and that's something.

MILLER: You bet that's something. (Then with a grin)

You surprise me at times with your deep wisdom.

MRS . MILLER : You don't give me credit for ever having

common sense, that's why.

MILLER (after a pause): Where'd you say Sid and Lily had

gone off to?

MRS. MILLER: To the beach to listen to the band. (She

sighs sympathetically) Poor Lily! Sid'll never change,

and she'll never marry him. But she seems to get some

queer satisfaction out of fussing over him like a hen

that's hatched a duck—though Lord knows I wouldn't

in her shoes!

MILLER: Arthur's up with Elsie Rand, I suppose?

MRS. MILLER: Of course.

MILLER: Where's Mildred?

MRS. MILLER: Out walking with her latest. I've forgot who

it is. I can't keep track of them. (She smiles.)

MILLER (smiling): Then, from all reports, we seem to be

completely surrounded by love!

MRS. MILLER: Well, we've had our share, haven't we? We

don't have to be grudge it to our children. But I've done

all this talking about Muriel and Richard and clean forgot

how wild old McComber was against it.

But he'll get over that, I suppose.

MILLER (with a chuckle): He has already. I ran into him

up-street this afternoon and he was meek as pie. He

backed water and said he guessed I was right. Richard

had just copied stuff out of books, and kids would be

kids, and so on. So I came off my high horse a bit—but

not too far—and I guess all that won't bother anyone any

more. And I told you about getting that business from

Lawson, didn't I? It's been a good day,

MRS . MILLER (in a whisper): It's Richard.

MILLER (immediately assuming an expression of becoming

gravity) Hmm.

RICHARD (dreamily, like a ghost addressing fellow shades):

Hello.

MRS. MILLER (staring at him worriedly): Hello, Richard.

MILLER (sizing him up shrewdly): Hello, Son.

MRS. MILLER (with frightened suspicion now): Goodness,

he acts queer! Nat, you don't suppose he's been—?

MILLER (with a reassuring smile): No. It's love, not liquor,

this time.

MRS. MILLER (only partly reassured—sharply): Richard!

What's the matter with you? How many times

have I told you to hang up your hat in the hall when

you come in! Here. Give it to me. I'll hang it up for you this

once. And what are you sitting over here in the dark

for? Don't forget your father's been waiting to talk to

you !

MILLER (quietly but firmly now) : You better leave Richard

and me alone for a while, Essie.

MRS. MILLER (turns to stare at him apprehensively): Well

—all right. I'll go sit on the piazza. Call me if you want

me. But you'll remember all I said, Nat, won't you?

MILLER (casually, indicating): Sit down, Richard.

Well, how are the vine leaves in your hair this evening?

RICHARD (totally unprepared for this approach): I don't know, Pat

MILLER: Turned out to be poison ivy, didn't they?

But you needn't look so alarmed. I'm not going

to ready on any temperance lecture. That'd bore me more

than it would you. And, in spite of your damn foolishness

last night, I'm still giving you credit for having

brains. So I'm pretty sure anything I could say to you

you've already said to yourself.

RICHARD (his head down—humbly): I know I was a

darned fool.

MILLER: You sure were—not only a fool but a downright, stupid,

disgusting fool! (RICHARD squirms, his head still lower)

It was bad enough for you to let me and Arthur see you,

but to appear like that before your mother and Mildred

—I And I wonder if Muriel would think you were so

fine if she ever saw you as you looked and acted then. I

think she'd give you your walking papers for keeps.

And you couldn't blame her. No nice girl wants to give

her love to a stupid drunk!

RICHARD (writhing): I know, Pa.

MILLER (after a pause—quietly) : All right. Then that settles—

the booze end of it. But there is another

thing that's more serious. How about that tart you

went to bed with at the Pleasant Beach House?

RICHARD (flabbergasted—stammers) : You know—? But I

didn't ! If they've told you about her down there, they

must have told you I didn't! She wanted me to—but I

wouldn't. I gave her the five dollars just so she'd let me

out of it. Honest, Pa, I didn't! She made everything

seem rotten and dirty—and—I didn't want to do a thing

like that to Muriel—no matter how bad I thought she'd

treated me—even after I felt drunk, I didn't. Honest!

MILLER: How'd you happen to meet this lady, anyway?

RICHARD: I can't tell that, Pa, I'd have to snitch on someone

—and you wouldn't want me to do that.

MILLER (a bit taken aback) : No. I suppose I wouldn't.

Hmm. Well, I believe you—and I guess that settles that.

But listen here, Richard, it's about time you and I

had a serious talk about—hmm—certain

matters pertaining to—and now that the subject's come

up of its own accord, it's a good time—I mean, there's no

use in procrastinating further—so, here goes. Richard, you have now

come to the age when—Well, you're a fully developed

man, in a way, and it's only natural for you to have certain

desires of the flesh, to put it that way—I mean, pertaining

to the opposite sex—certain natural feelings and

temptations—that'll want to be gratified—and you'll

want to gratify them. Hmm—well, human society being

organized as it is, there's only one outlet for—unless

you're a scoundrel and go around ruining decent girls which

you're not, of course. Well, there are a certain

class of women—always have been and always will be

as long as human nature is what it is—It's wrong, maybe,

but what can you do about it? I mean, girls like that

one you—girls there's something doing with—and lots

of 'em are pretty, and it's human nature if you—But

that doesn't mean to ever get mixed up with them

seriously! You just have what you want and pay 'em and

forget it. I know that sounds hard and unfeeling, but

we're talking facts and—But don't think I'm encouraging

you to—If you can stay away from 'em, all the better—

but if—why—hmm—Here's what I'm driving at,

Richard. They're apt to be whited sepulchres —I mean,

your whole life might be ruined if—so, darn it, you've

got to know how to—I mean, there are ways and means

(Suddenly he can go no farther and winds up helplessly)

But, hell, I suppose you boys talk all this over among

yourselves and you know more about it than I do. I'll admit

I'm no authority. I never had anything to do with

such women, and it'll be a hell of a lot better for you if

you never do!

.

RICHARD (without looking at him): I'm never going to, Pa.

(Then shocked indignation coming into his voice)

I don't see how you could think I could—now—when you

know I love Muriel and am going to marry her. I'd die

before I'd—!

MILLER (immensely relieved—enthusiastically): That's the

talk! By God, I'm proud of you when you talk like that!

(Then hastily) And now that's all of that. There's nothing

more to say and we'll forget it, eh? ,

RICHARD (after a pause): How are you going to punish me Pa?

MILLER: I was sort of forgetting that, wasn't I? Well, I'd

thought of telling you you couldn't go to Yale—

RICHARD (eagerly): Don't I have to go? Gee, that's great!

Munel thought you'd want me to. I was telling her I'd

rather you gave me a job on the paper because then

I could get married sooner.

Gee, Pa, you picked a lemon. That isn't any punishment.

You'll have to do something besides that.

MIILLER: Then you'll go to Yale and you'll stay there till

you graduate, that's the answer to that! Muriel's got

good sense and you haven't! And now we're finished, you better call

your mother.

MRS. MILLER: My, it's a beautiful night. The moon's way

down low—almost setting.

MILLER (with a nod at RICHARD, winking at his wife): Yes,

I don't believe I've hardly ever seen such a beautiful

night—with such a wonderful moon. Have you, Richard?

RICHARD (turning to them—enthusiastically): No! It was

wonderful—down at the beach—(He stops abruptly,

smiling shyly.)

MILLER: I can only remember a few nights that were as beautiful as

this—and they were so long ago, when your mother and

I were young and planning to get married.

RICHARD: Yes, I'll bet those must have

been wonderful nights, too. You sort of forget the moon

was the same way back then—and everything.

MILLER (huskily): You're all right, Richard. (He gets up

and blows his nose.)

MRS. MILLER (fondly): You're a good boy, Richard.

MILLER: Better get to bed early tonight, Son, hadn't you?

RICHARD: I couldn't sleep. Can't I go out on the piazza and

sit for a while—until the moon sets?

MILLER: All right. Then you better say good night now.

I don't know about your mother, but I'm going to bed

right away. I'm dead tired.

MRS. MILLER: So am I.

RICHARD (goes to her and kisses her) : Good night, Ma.

MRS. MILLER: Good night. Don't you stay up till all hours

now.

:

'RICH ARD : Good night, Pa.

MILLER (puts his arm around him and gives him a hug):

Good night, Richard. First time he's done

that in years. I don 't believe in kissing between fathers

and sons after a certain age—seems mushy and silly but

that meant something! And I don't think we'll ever

have to worry about his being safe—from himself again.

And I guess no matter what life will do to him,

he can take care of it now. My darned feet are giving me fits!

Mind if I don't say my prayers tonight, Essie? I'm

certain God knows I'm too darned tired.

MRS. MILLER: Don't talk that way. It's real sinful.

If that isn't you all over! Always

looking for an excuse to—You're worse than

Tommy! But all right. I suppose tonight you needn't.

You've had a hard day. I'm going to turn out the light. All

ready?

MILLER: Yep. Let her go, Gallagher. There he is—

like a statue of Love's Young Dream.

(Then he sighs and speaks with a gentle nostalgic

melancholy) What's it that Rubaiyat says

"Yet Ah, that Spring should vanish with the Rose!

That Youth's sweet-scented manuscript should close!'

Well, Spring isn't everything, is it, Essie? There's

a lot to be said for Autumn. That's got beauty, too. And

Winter—if you're together.

MRS. MILLER (simply): Yes, Nat.

Curtain