More Portmanteau Plays

JONATHAN MAKES A FRIEND

[_The scene represents the lumber room in the carriage house on John Clay's suburban estate. The room is crowded with old trunks, paintings, barrels, boxes, chests, furniture showing long residence during slow epochs of changing taste. Everything is in good order and carefully labelled. At the right of the room is a door opening onto the stairs which lead to the ground floor. A small window is set high in the peak of the gabled end up centre. At the left a chimney comes through the floor and cuts into the roof as though it had been added by Victorian standards of taste for exterior beautification. An open stove intrudes its pipe into the chimney. The single indication of the life of today having touched the place is the studied arrangement of an old rosewood square grand piano. The keyboard is uncovered. On the top is a tiny theatre--a model masked and touched with mystery, according to early adolescent standards. Two benches stand in front of the piano, and the piano stool is meticulously set in place. A flamboyant placard leaning against the music rack announces:_

TODAY

ZENOBIA

A tragedy in ten acts by Alexander Jefferson, Sr.

_The light in the room is dim, although it is quite bright out of doors. There are two low windows which are heavily barred. The little theatre is so arranged that when the manipulator stands on the box to work it, his head can be seen over the masking._

* * * * *

_The curtain rises disclosing an empty room. Presently laborious steps are heard on the stairs and a key is turned in the lock. Then Aunt Letitia enters followed by Susan Sample. Aunt Letitia is a motherly old woman who has been in the Clay home for many years. She may have preferences, but like the buildings on the estate, she stays where she is. Susan Sample is a tall, slender girl of fourteen with a very gentle manner and a way of looking at people that indicates a receptivity rarely met in one so old. Letitia goes to one of the trunks marked E R in large white letters and unlocks it._

Letitia. Here they are, my dear. Help me with the hasps.

Susan. What does E. R. really stand for, Mis' Letitia?

Letitia. E. R.... That's a secret, Susan, that little girls aren't supposed to know.

Susan. I won't tell.

Letitia. But what good would that do, my sweet? Please open the windows.

SUSAN (_opening the window and returning to her question_)

No one would know you told me.

Letitia. I would know. Yes, I would know that I had told somebody else's secret.

Susan. Whose secret is it? Please.

Letitia. I've been living in this house for thirty-five years, Susan, and I've known the secrets of all the boys and girls from time to time.

Susan. You know mine, too.

Letitia. And I've never told one of them, either.

Susan. Does old Mr. John ever have secrets?

Letitia. _Old_ Mr. John! For shame!... Of course he has secrets.

Susan. I wish I knew some of his, Mis' Letitia.

Letitia. My dear, you never will know them. John is very quiet.

Susan. Who in the family didn't have any secrets at all?

Letitia. Oh, they all had secrets when they were young. Nathaniel had _fewer_ than any of them and...

[_Her words are lost tenderly in a memory._

Susan. Why hasn't he ever come back home?

LETITIA (_as she busies herself with the contents of the trunk_)

That is his secret, Susan, and we mustn't ask too many questions. Nathaniel is coming today. I won't ask any questions.... He was a fine young man. Yes, he's coming back today, my dear. He was the baby of the family.

Susan. How old is he now?

Letitia. You little chatterbox! Between you and Jonathan I have to fight to keep anybody's secrets.

Susan. Does Jonathan ask many questions?

Letitia. When we're alone he does. He's just like his Uncle Nathaniel. God bless him!

SUSAN (_seeing a costume in the trunk_)

Oh, isn't that just wonderful!

LETITIA (_holding the costume up for Susan to see_)

_That_ is what you can wear in the pageant, my dear Susan.

SUSAN (_taking the costume_)

Oh! Oh! Oh!... I wish I knew whose it was.

Letitia. Would that make it any prettier?

Susan. No, but I'd like to know just the same.... Was it E. R.'s?

[_A cry is heard outside_, "Aunt Letty! Aunt Letty!"

Letitia. Oh, Susan, it's Nathaniel! It's my boy. Here I am, dear.

[_She has an armful of costumes which she drops nervously._

Susan. Mis' Letitia, I believe you love him best of all!

Letitia. No, I don't, but I always understood him, I think.

[_The voice below calls again_, "Where are you?"

Come up here, my boy. Come up to the lumber room.

[_Steps are heard on the stairs, young eager steps, and Nathaniel Clay bursts into the room. He is an eternally young man of thirty-five, who has touched the dregs and the heights of the world and remained himself._

NATHANIEL [_taking Letitia in his arms, then holding her from him as he inspects her._

Aunt Letty! Not a day older.... But oh, so wise.

Letitia. Nathaniel, my boy, my darling, darling boy.

Nathaniel. Now, now. Don't cry.

Letitia. My boy, my boy. My splendid boy.

[_Susan has forgotten her costume in her admiration for Nathaniel. She puts it down on the bench in front of the piano._

Nathaniel. And this is--

Letitia. This is Susan Sample.

Nathaniel. Not--

Letitia. Yes, time has been flying, Nathaniel. This young lady is Mary Sample's daughter.

Nathaniel. How do you do? I can't believe it. You were only a little pink cherub up there in the sky when I ran--

LETITIA (_hurriedly interrupting him_)

Yes, Susan was born three years after you went away.

Nathaniel. Oh!... And, Aunt Letitia, you've opened Emily's trunk!

Letitia. Yes, Susan is going to be in a pageant.

Susan. Who was Emily?

Nathaniel. She was--

Letitia. Nathaniel dear, you must not satisfy her curiosity.

(_To Susan_)

You go find Jonathan, dear, and tell him that his uncle is here.

(_To Nathaniel_)

I'll put these things away, and we'll go into the house.

SUSAN (_reluctantly_)

Good-bye, Mr. Clay.

Nathaniel. Good-bye, Susan. You'll come back, won't you?

Susan. Oh, yes. Good-bye.

Good-Bye. [_Susan goes out._

Letitia. She hates to go. She's never seen anyone just like you: and I have only seen one.

Nathaniel. Who's Jonathan?

Letitia. He's the one.... He's Emily's boy.

Nathaniel. You mean Emily--

Letitia. No, no, my dear. Emily was married, left the stage. She wasn't happy. The boy was her only comfort.

Nathaniel. He's my nephew. Why, I'm Uncle Nathaniel. Oh, Aunt Letty, I'm getting to be an old man!

Letitia. Nathaniel, Jonathan doesn't know about his mother. I sent Susan away because I didn't want her to associate these things with Jonathan's mother.

Nathaniel. My God, Emily didn't do anything wrong.

Letitia. Well, she was an actress.

Nathaniel. And a good one, too.

Letitia. Yes, yes, dear. All that has been talked over many times, but John is the head of the family and he doesn't approve of the stage.

Nathaniel. So! John is still himself.

Letitia. John is austere, Nathaniel. He is a Clay through and through and he holds to the traditions of the family.

Nathaniel. I remember the traditions, Aunt Letitia.

Letitia. I never oppose John. He feels that he is right. But it _is_ very hard sometimes to live up to his rules.

Nathaniel. Has he rules?

Letitia. Well, he has ideas, dear--much like your father's. We might call them rules.

Nathaniel. Where is Emily?

Letitia. Two years ago, Nathaniel.

[_There is a moment's silence._

Nathaniel. Did she ever go back to the stage?

Letitia. No. John forbade it.

Nathaniel. And John is still forbidding.

Letitia. John is the head of the family.

Nathaniel. So.... The Clay family is still an absolute monarchy.

Letitia. Nathaniel, dear, will you promise me--

NATHANIEL (_with a smile_)

I'll try.

Letitia. Will you promise not to antagonize John?

Nathaniel. Will John antagonize _me_? I came back to see my home--to see you, my dear aunt. But I am a grown man now.

Letitia. Won't you try to be patient? It will be pleasanter for me. And I have waited so long to see you, Nathaniel. There are seventeen very, very long years for us to talk about. Let John have his way.

Nathaniel. Well, I'll try for a few days. But I give you warning, my ideas have been settling during the past few years, too.

Letitia. Remember, he is used to being obeyed just as your father was.

Nathaniel. Yes, I remember that, dear Aunt; but John isn't my father. He is just a brother to whom fate gave a fifteen years' start by birth.

[_As a voice calls_, "Nathaniel, are you up there?" _Nathaniel looks at Letitia._

Nathaniel. His voice is just the same. (_Calling_) Yes, John, I am up here.

[_The antagonism between the two brothers is apparent immediately._

_John Clay enters. He is an austere, pompous man of fifty who has the softness of the tithe-collector and the hardness of the tax-collector. He speaks with an adamantine finality which is destined to rude shattering._

John. How do you do, Nathaniel?

Nathaniel. I am very well, I thank you, John. How are you?

[_They shake hands perfunctorily._

John. You arrived ahead of time.

Nathaniel. Yes.

John. We haven't met for seventeen years.

Nathaniel. No. I've been away, John.

John. Where have you been?

Nathaniel. I shall be here for two weeks, John, and if I should tell you all about myself today, I should have nothing to talk about tomorrow.

JOHN (_severely_)

You haven't changed, Nathaniel. You are still frivolous.

Nathaniel. I shall be serious when I am your age, brother.

John. I came out here to ask you to be very careful of your conversation before the children.

Nathaniel. The children?

John. Yes, my two grandchildren.--

Nathaniel. Grandchildren! My, that makes me a great uncle. I _am_ getting old, Aunt Letitia!

John. I do not care to have them or Jonathan hear about any revolutionary or other unusual ideas.

Nathaniel. I shall try not to contaminate the children and Jonathan. How old are the children?

John. Mary is four and John 3rd is two.

Nathaniel. I shall try to spare their sensibilities.

John. They may not understand you but they will hear.

NATHANIEL (_to Letitia_)

How old is Jonathan?

Letitia. Fourteen.

Nathaniel. The impressionable age.

John. The silly age.

Nathaniel. Brother John, no age is the silly age. Fourteen is the age of visions and enchantments and fears. What a boy of fourteen sees and hears takes on a value that we cannot underestimate. Most men are defeated in life between fourteen and twenty. At fourteen a boy begins to make a lens through which he sees life. He thinks about everything. Ambition is beginning to stir in him and he begins to know why he likes things, why he wants to do certain things. He formulates lasting plans for the future and he takes in impressions that are indelible. Things that seem nothing to old people become memories to him that affect his whole life. The memory of a smile may encourage him to surmount all obstacles and the memory of a bitterness may act as an eternal barrier.

John. Nathaniel, are you a father?

Nathaniel. No, John, I am only a bachelor who is very much in love with life in general and one lady in particular.

John. You can know nothing of children, then.

Nathaniel. I remember myself. Most men forget their younger selves and that is fatal.

John. One would think to hear you talk that the most important things in life were a boy of fourteen and his moorings.

Nathaniel. One might know it.

John. You are still the same impractical theorist.

Nathaniel. I am the same theorist--a little older, a little more travelled. The trouble with you, John, is that you think no age is important except your own. You always thought that, even when you were fourteen. Oh, I know I wasn't born then, but I know you.

John. Did you come back to your home in order to lecture me?

Nathaniel. No, no, I beg your pardon. I came back to see my home and Aunt Letitia and the children--and you, and I--I think--Jonathan.

John. Nathaniel, when your letter came telling me that you had decided to come back to see us, I was going to ask you not to come--

Nathaniel. I gave no address.

John. But on second thought, I made up my mind to forgive you--

Nathaniel. Thank you.

John. To let bygones be bygones.

Nathaniel. That is the better way, brother: let the dead past bury its dead.

John. Why did you run away from home?

Nathaniel. Because we couldn't agree, John.

John. I was older than you; my judgment was mature; I was the head of the family, in my father's place.

Nathaniel. We didn't speak the same language. I wanted something out of life that you couldn't understand; that my father couldn't understand. I determined to get it by myself.

John. Well?

Nathaniel. And so, I ran away.

John. Leaving no trace, no word.

Nathaniel. Oh, yes, I left a very important word--"Good-bye."

John. You were willing to leave all the work of our father's business on my shoulders.

Nathaniel. You were willing to take it all. And I wanted my freedom.

John. You were selfish and heartless.

Nathaniel. Selfish? Because I had my life to live and meant to live it?

John. You should have told us where you were living.

Nathaniel. I preferred to work out my salvation alone, without interference. My going away gave you a free hand. John, don't tell me that you were not overjoyed that my flight gave you all my father's fortune.

John. It was my duty as head of the family to protect you.

Nathaniel. I didn't ask for protection. I wanted understanding.

John. A boy of eighteen must not be allowed freedom.

Nathaniel. Perhaps not, John, but he must be allowed to grow toward his goal. Eighteen is not too young for a man to fly through the air in defense of his country, or you. The burden of the world today is on the shoulders of men from eighteen to eighty, share and share alike.... I wanted to be a writer--

John. And our brother Henry wanted to be a musical composer and our sister Emily wanted to be an actress! A fine putout for the leading commercial family of this state!

Nathaniel. Well, John, our brother and our sister have paid the final penalty. They have died. Henry left a handful of worthless little tunes and Emily left a trunkful of costumes as monuments to their folly. And now Emily's boy is here under your wing.

John. He's a dreamer like all the rest of you.

NATHANIEL (_with interest; tenderly_)

Yes?

John. He spends all his leisure time playing with that fool toy there.

[_He points to the model theatre._

_Nathaniel smiles and crosses to the piano and lifts the cloth that covers the theatre; then he looks at the placard and laughs joyously._

Nathaniel. "Zenobia." " Alexander Jefferson, Sr."

John. He pretends that's his name--Alexander Jefferson, Sr!

Nathaniel. People like to have other names. Look at all artists--like writers, pugilists, and actors, and base ball players. And the Sr. Is an effort to appear older.

John. Well, I'm breaking him of all that nonsense. I allow him only a certain number of hours for play. Emily used to spoil him and it's been a task to conquer him.

Nathaniel. Jonathan is fourteen. When I was fourteen--What are Jonathan's tastes?

John. He reads all the time and he wants to write plays and poetry; but I am conquering that silliness.

Nathaniel. I think I am going to like my nephew. John, I'll come into the house shortly. I think I'll look at this toy a moment and I'll get Aunt Letitia to show me some of Emily's things. A mere matter of sentiment.

John. Now don't put any foolishness into the boy's head.

Nathaniel. I promise you I sha'n't try to change the boy's head, brother.

John. I play golf from five to six.

Nathaniel. Oh, you've taken up athletics?

John. The doctor's advice. Will you join me?

Nathaniel. Thank you, no.

John. Very well. I'll see you at dinner.

Nathaniel. Thank you. (_John goes out. Nathaniel looks musingly at Letitia who has been sitting silently on Emily's trunk, knitting, Nathaniel crosses to her and sits on a stool at her feet_) Does John always talk to you so much, little church mouse?

Letitia. I have been a poor relation for thirty-five years, my boy, and to be a successful poor relation, one must learn the art of silence.

Nathaniel. No wonder I ran away!

Letitia. But you should have written to me.

Nathaniel. Perhaps--I should--yes--I should have written, but I didn't. You see, Aunt Letty, I was a sensitive boy. All my life I had dreamed of doing my own work. I saw Henry disappointed in life, I saw Emily made miserable enough through the traditions of the family. John couldn't understand me and I couldn't understand him. There was no common meeting-ground. John was the head of the family and so deeply was the idea of submission to rule ingrained in me that I could think of only one way out of my restraint. I wouldn't study engineering, and I wouldn't continue at Somerset School. Well, I ran away from my ancestral castle to find my way in a new world. I think I have found it.

Letitia. Jonathan doesn't want to study engineering, either.

NATHANIEL (_Looks closely at her a moment and then smiles_)

As Ibsen would say--Ghosts! (_He walks toward the window_) Poor John!

Letitia. Poor Jonathan!

[_At this moment Jonathan enters the room. He is a slender boy of fourteen with a deep problem in his eyes. When he smiles before his elders, which is seldom, he seems always prepared to restrain the smile. His voice is just changing and this adds to his reticence. He has a tremendous capacity for expressing wonderment and, as usual with one of his type, he is capable of great displays of temper. He gives the impression of thinking about everything he sees. He is at the age of wonder and only custom prevents the world from becoming the promised land of visions and enchantments._

Nathaniel. Poor Jonathan!

[_He turns and sees the boy._

_The two stand face to face for a moment. For Nathaniel it is the first moment of a new relationship. For Jonathan it is a moment of uncertainty. He has heard himself called "Poor Jonathan" and he is facing another male relative._

_Jonathan looks first at Letitia, then at Nathaniel and then at Letitia._

Letitia. Jonathan, this is your Uncle Nathaniel. Nathaniel, this is Emily's boy.

NATHANIEL (_Holds out his hand which Jonathan takes very shyly_)

Jonathan!

Jonathan. How do you do, sir?

Nathaniel. How tall you are!

JONATHAN (_quite conscious of his short trousers_)

Yes, sir.

Nathaniel. I didn't take you away from any studies, did I?

Jonathan. No, sir.... I was just writing something when Susan called me.

Nathaniel. May I ask what you were writing?

Jonathan. Yes, sir....

[_He swallows._

... A play.

Nathaniel. A play! _Zenobia_?

JONATHAN (_Looks quickly for some indication of laughter in Nathaniel's eyes_)

Yes, sir.

Nathaniel. It's a tragedy, isn't it?

Jonathan. Yes, sir.

Nathaniel. In ten acts.

Jonathan. There may be only eight.

Nathaniel. Then I know who you are! (_Jonathan looks at him in surprise_) You are the celebrated dramatist, Alexander Jefferson, Sr.

Jonathan. Did Aunt Letitia tell you?

Nathaniel. No, sir. I read it on the billboards. (_Jonathan laughs with a catch in his breath_) And I should like to attend a performance, Mr. Jefferson.

Jonathan. It isn't finished yet.

Nathaniel. Well, when am I to see this theatre?

Letitia. Your Uncle Nathaniel and I shall come together.

Jonathan. You've seen all the plays.

Letitia. That doesn't make any difference. I'd like to see them again.

[_Jonathan looks at her to be sure she is in earnest. Then he smiles._

Jonathan. I'll finish _Zenobia_ for tomorrow.

Nathaniel. Agreed! Can you get the scenery ready?

Jonathan. I painted it last week.

Letitia. You must have the orchestra, too, Jonathan.

Jonathan. Yes, ma'am. Susan has some new pieces.

Nathaniel. Is Susan the orchestra?

Jonathan. Yes, sir.

Nathaniel. What else have you written?

Jonathan. A lot of plays, sir. Mother and I used to write little plays. I don't write many any more.

Nathaniel. Why not?

Jonathan. I'm getting too big.

Nathaniel. Do you ever write anything beside plays?

Jonathan. Yes, sir.

Nathaniel. That's splendid. Stories?

Jonathan. Yes, sir.... And I've written some po--poetry.

Nathaniel. Excellent!

Jonathan. They're not very good, but Susan always wants me to write the poetry for the music.

[_Aunt Letitia has repacked the trunk and locked it. She sees that Nathaniel and Jonathan are getting on famously._

Letitia. I'll go to the house now and you can talk to Jonathan, Nathaniel.

[_Jonathan looks appealingly at Letitia, but with a smile she goes downstairs._

_Jonathan and Nathaniel look at each other for an embarrassed minute, then Jonathan takes refuge at his theatre._

Nathaniel. May I see some of your plays?

Jonathan. Do you really want to see them?

Nathaniel. Yes.

[_Jonathan goes to a box on the piano in which there are many manuscripts carefully bound. He hands one to Nathaniel._

Jonathan. Here is one that mother and I wrote. She loved the theatre.

NATHANIEL (_taking the strange-looking little manuscript._ _Reading_:)

"Robin Hood and His Merry Men."

Jonathan. We used to make all those old stories into plays.

Nathaniel. Do you like to write?

Jonathan. Oh, yes. I wish I could write real plays, but there's no one to help me now. My mother used to correct them and tell me what was wrong. She knew a lot about the theatre and she used to tell me all sorts of things. But now Aunt Letitia doesn't say anything. Sometimes she comes to a show, but she can't help me. And Uncle John doesn't like the theatre. He thinks I'm too old to give shows, but I can't help it. There's nothing I like so much.

Nathaniel. May I read this some time?

Jonathan. Yes, sir.... Would you like to see it played?

Nathaniel. I want to see them all.

Jonathan. Forty-one of them?

Nathaniel. Forty-one of them! Where do you keep them all?

Jonathan. Here in this box.

[_He shows all the manuscripts._

Nathaniel. What are the pink ones?

Jonathan. Those are the ones mother liked best and these--(_showing blue ones_) are the ones I liked best.... I like them all now, but it used to be lots of fun to choose our favorites.

Nathaniel. What is this one that's different from all the rest?

Jonathan. That's one that mother wrote all by herself. It's best of all.

Nathaniel. You must save these carefully, Jonathan--all your life.

Jonathan. Oh, yes, sir.

Nathaniel. Some day you may be proud of them.

Jonathan. See--she wrote this, and I wrote this. I was a bad writer, wasn't I?

Nathaniel. What do you want to do, Jonathan?

Jonathan. You mean what do I want to be?

Nathaniel. Yes.

Jonathan. I want to write plays.

Nathaniel. Is that all?

Jonathan. Well, I'd like to run a theatre.

Nathaniel. What else?

Jonathan. I'd--you won't tell anyone, will you?

Nathaniel. Of course not.

Jonathan. You see, Uncle John wants me to go to Somerset School to study engineering and learn the business.

Nathaniel. And you don't want to--Is that it?

Jonathan. I'd rather be a writer.

Nathaniel. They say you can't make any money at writing.

Jonathan. That's what Uncle John says, but I want to just the same.

Nathaniel. If you follow John's advice, you'll be a rich man.

Jonathan. I'd rather be poor. What would you do, Uncle Nathaniel?

Nathaniel. I--why I'd--Oh, come now, Jonathan--you know John is the head of the Clay family and you and he must decide this question.

Jonathan. Wouldn't you want to be what you want to be?

Nathaniel. Perhaps I should.

Jonathan. I don't see how anyone can decide what you want to be--no matter how old he is.

Nathaniel. Have you ever talked to John?

Jonathan. Oh, yes, sir.

Nathaniel. What did he say?

Jonathan. He said I had to study engineering or go to work in the factory next fall for good.

Nathaniel. What do you want to do?

Jonathan. I want to go to a fine prep school and then to college and then--

Nathaniel. Then what?

Jonathan. I want to be an actor!!

Nathaniel. I see.

Jonathan. Don't tell anybody.

Nathaniel. I won't. That's pretty far from engineering, isn't it?

Jonathan. Yes, sir. But everybody can't be alike. You and Uncle John aren't anything alike.

Nathaniel. And we're brothers, too.

Jonathan. Do you ever get all mixed up and don't know what to do?

Nathaniel. Oh, yes. I think everybody does.

Jonathan. What do you do then?

Nathaniel. I do something very silly.

Jonathan. Do you do silly things, too?

Nathaniel. Yes. I'm afraid I do.

Jonathan. What do you do when you get all mixed up?

Nathaniel. I'll tell you--it might not work with everybody, you know--but it works with me.

Jonathan. Yes, sir!

Nathaniel. My mother used to sing me a song called--"There is a green hill far away." I always liked that song because it gave me a feeling of contentment and happiness. I imagined that I could see that hill with its pleasant green slopes and at its foot lay a little cottage all cool and pleasant and open to the winds. There were no locks and bolts to keep one out or to keep one in. I used to imagine that I was climbing that hill to the top of the world and when I reached the summit I could see--

JONATHAN (_enthralled_)

I know--the whole wide world.

Nathaniel. Its very bigness made me happy in my imagination.... Then when I grew up and heavy troubles came to me I remembered the Green Hill Far Away and one day I found such a hill and I climbed it--clear to the top--and there below me lay the world--the whole wide world--and I told the world something then and felt the better for it.... Jonathan, there is nothing like a hilltop to make a man feel worth while.

Jonathan. I know what you mean.... But I always want to jump when I look down from any place, do you?

Nathaniel. I suppose everybody does.

Jonathan. Uncle John thinks every boy ought to be alike.

Nathaniel. Many schools used to think that way.

Jonathan. But boys don't all think the same. They're different just like men, only they don't know so much.

Nathaniel. Perhaps not.

Jonathan. Uncle John won't let me put on long pants until I'm fifteen.

Nathaniel. He let me put them on when I was fifteen, too.

Jonathan. Were you as tall as I am?

Nathaniel. Just about the same height, but my legs were like pipe stems and I was very much ashamed.

Jonathan. So am I.

Nathaniel. You'll forget all about it after you're fifteen.

Jonathan. I can talk to you like I used to talk to my mother.

Nathaniel. Thank you. We're going to be fine friends, aren't we?

Jonathan. You bet. Is it silly for me to like to write plays?

Nathaniel. Why do you ask that?

Jonathan. Because Uncle John says it's silly.

Nathaniel. Well, it all depends upon the way you look at it, Jonathan. The world has never been able to agree as to what is and what is not silly. Mr. Browning, the poet, might have considered hooks and eyes the silliest things in the world; but to Mr. de Long, they were, no doubt, the most important things in the world. Many men agree with Mr. Browning and many ladies agree with Mr. de Long.

Jonathan. That's what I think.

Nathaniel. You and I probably have many thoughts in common.

[_Susan and Mlle. Perrault enter. Mlle. Perrault is a Frenchwoman of exquisite grace and poise. She speaks English fluently, but with a charming accent and an occasional Gallic phrase larding her pleasant sentences. Her entrance into the room is electric. She has already won Susan._

Mlle. Perrault. Ah, there you are, Mr. Nathaniel Clay. I met la belle Susanne in the roadway and she told me you were in the lumber room in the carriage house and I say to her, "We shall track him to his lair." Besides, I want to see what a lumber room is.

Nathaniel. I was hiding from you.

Mlle. Perrault. Villain! And this is Jonathan. How do you do? Susanne tells me you write poetry and she writes music and she promise me that you will sing for me.

Jonathan. I can't sing.

Mlle. Perrault. Ah! Susanne tell me you have a theatre and you write plays and paint scenery and write poetry and sing songs and she say if I come here to the lumber room in the carriage house you will play me a tragedy and sing me a song.

Jonathan. Yes, ma'am.

Nathaniel. Having introduced yourself to everybody, will you tell me, Susan, how Mlle. Perrault learned so much in such a little time?

Susan. Well, I was waiting for Jonathan to call me.

Jonathan. Oh, I forgot.

Mlle. Perrault. She was sitting like a little fairy in the grass by the roadway, and I stop my car and ask for Mr. Nathaniel Clay and she say you are here in the lumber room in the carriage house and she tell me many things--because we like each other very, very much and we walk very, very slowly.

Nathaniel. Now! Now that you know all about Miss Susan Sample and Mr. Jonathan--(_He realizes he doesn't know Jonathan's second name_) I think I shall introduce you by your pen name, Jonathan--Mr. Alexander Jefferson, Sr.

(_To Mlle. Perrault_)

I am going to let them know about you. This, lady and gentleman, is Mlle. Marthe Perrault of Paris, France. Mlle. Perrault, may I present my friend Susan and my nephew Jonathan?

MLLE. PERRAULT (_falling into the mood_)

I am very, very pleased to see you again, Miss Sample. It is a great pleasure to have the honor of meeting you, Mr. Alexander Jefferson, Sr. I am looking forward to the première of your great tragedy, _Zenobia_, of which Miss Sample has been telling me.

SUSAN (_Puts her arms about Mlle. Perrault and Jonathan is uncertain whether to be happy or afraid_)

He wrote lots of others, too.

Jonathan. Forty-one.

Nathaniel. I think I'll tell you two a secret. (_Susan pricks up her ears_) Do you like secrets?

Susan. Yes, sir.

Nathaniel. And can you keep them?

Susan. Oh, yes, sir.

Nathaniel. Well, some day Mlle. Perrault is going to be my wife.

[_He kisses Mlle. Perrault's hand._

_Mlle. Perrault shows her engagement ring._

Susan. When?

Nathaniel. Very soon. She is here on some war work and when she and her father go back to France I shall follow and we shall be married.

Nathaniel. Now you mustn't tell.

Susan. Honest.

Jonathan. No, sir!

Mlle. Perrault. Now, we have a secret. And you are going to sing me a little song.

Susan. Come on, Jonathan. Let's do the new one.

Jonathan. Well, I'll try.

[_He is quite miserable with stage-fright._

_Susan sits at the piano and plays a chord. Then Jonathan begins to sing with much fear in his voice._

JONATHAN (_singing_)

All on a summer's day, With flowers by the way, A fair young prince and his purple knight Found a princess at her play. So by the crescent moon He asked a royal boon And sat him down on a soft green knoll-- And the night-time came too soon.

Mlle. Perrault. Oh, that is just like a little French peasant song! How does it go? La--la--la--la--la--la.

[_Susan begins to play it again._

_Jonathan sings more surely than before._

_Slowly Mlle. Perrault falls into the rhythm and very simply dances a little peasant dance to Jonathan's and Susan's song. The two youngsters are in the seventh heaven of delight._

So--when one is very happy or very sad, he makes a song and when he's very, very happy, he dances. And when he is very, very, very unhappy he dies. You see, _I_ am very, very happy. When do you play _Zenobia_, Mr. Jefferson, Sr.?

Jonathan. I'll have it ready tomorrow, maybe tonight.

Nathaniel. We shall have a season ticket. But now, I want you to meet my blessed Aunt Letitia. She hasn't changed one bit in all these years.

Mlle. Perrault. To Aunt Letitia then. Good-bye, Jonathan. Tomorrow is the day of the great première.

JONATHAN (_awkwardly_)

Thanks.

Mlle. Perrault. And la belle petite Susanne, au revoir.

Susan. I'll walk with you part of the way.

Mlle. Perrault. Very well. Marchons, marchons....

[_They go out._

NATHANIEL (_holding back a little_)

Good-bye, Mr. Manager.

[_He goes out calling_ "Marthe."

_Jonathan is left alone in his joy_. _As he stands, a strange, aimless, vacuous whistling is heard outside the window an though from one ambling by. Jonathan hears it unconsciously, moves to put his plays away, alternately whistling and singing "All on a summer's day."_

_Presently the whistling of the strange air is heard as though coming from downstairs. It stops and a voice calls out_ "Hi!"

Jonathan. Who is it?

VOICE

It's me.

Jonathan. What do you want?

[_By this time the Voice has become a person in the shape of Hank, one of the scum of creation who asks nothing of life and gives nothing. He was born of woman and he grew into man's form, but one looking at him wonders how he survived dirt and the mere effort of breathing. He is stoutish with no marked coloring unless it be a cross between khaki and field-gray. Weather and time have conspired to render him inconspicuous. When he speaks his voice is produced with a careful effort to conserve energy. When he walks it seems to be a movement in answer to prayer rather than a physical fact._

Hank. Say--

Jonathan. How'd you get in here?

Hank. Well, it's this way, you see. The gate was open out there and this looked pretty fine to me so I come in.

Jonathan. You'd better go away before my uncle sees you.

Hank. Look here, young feller, I ain't goin' a-do no harm.

Jonathan. Well, he doesn't allow strangers on the place.

Hank. I jus' come in to ask if I could sleep somewhere around here if I worked for my sleep and grub.

Jonathan. No, he won't let you.

Hank. How do you know he won't?

Jonathan. 'Cause it's a rule.

[_Hank whistles a snatch of the strange air and sits down._

Hank. Where's your pa?

Jonathan. He's dead.

Hank. Long?

Jonathan. Ten years ago.

Hank. How old are you?

Jonathan. Fourteen.

Hank. Your pa died when you were four. So did mine.

Jonathan. Did you ever have an uncle?

Hank. How many you got?

Jonathan. I got two living and one dead.

Hank. All three of mine's dead.

[_He whistles a snatch of the strange air and takes a chew of tobacco._

Where's your ma?

JONATHAN (_Is about to become impatient, but an innate tolerance causes him to answer_)

She died when I was twelve.

Hank. So did mine. (_Whistles_) We're alike in lots of ways, ain't we?

Jonathan. What did you do when your mother died?

Hank. I felt pretty sorry.

Jonathan. Did your brothers and sisters help you any?

Hank. Have you any brothers and sisters?

Jonathan. No--

Hank. Me neither. (_Whistles casually_) No one took no notice of me.

Jonathan. What'd you do?

Hank. I went away.

Jonathan. Why didn't you try to work?

Hank. Couldn't find nothing suitable. 'T first I felt sort o' worried an' then I kep' walkin' on and I seen so much trouble where I went I says to myself, "Hank, you're lucky," I says. "You ain't got no fam'ly to bother you an' you ain't got nothing to worry you an' you don't have to get no place in partic'lar and you don't have to stay no place." A man wot's got a wife's all the time worrying about her health or her money spendin' or her gaddin' or her naggin'. An' a man w'ots got a fam'ly's always wondering where they'll end. An' a man's wot's got a home's all time worrying about keepin' it locked up. I bet the poor nut wot owns this place can't breathe easy for bein' scared things'll be took or burnt up. W'y you--look at you--(_Whistles_) You're wishin' I'd go 'cause you're 'fraid I'll take somethin'. I won't take nothin', young feller, 'cause I don't need nothin' now and I won't need nothin' till it's cold again--and then I'll git an overcoat maybe. It's too much trouble takin' things--'cause you have to carry 'em. (_Whistles_) You goin' to let me sleep here some place?

Jonathan. I can't. My uncle would drive you away. Maybe he'd have you arrested.

Hank. I ain't done nothin'. I ain't hurtin' nobody.

Jonathan. Well, he doesn't allow strangers around.

HANK (_Whistles. At the window_)

That's where I went by jus' now.

Jonathan. I heard you whistling.

Hank. That's a tune I made up once. (_Whistles_)

Jonathan. Do you make up tunes?

Hank. That's the only one I ever done. It comes in handy and it don't hurt no one.

[_Jonathan unconsciously tries to whistle a phrase of the tune._

Hank. No, that ain't it. It's this way.

[_Whistles._

_Jonathan tries it again and fails._

No. Here.

_Jonathan makes it this time._

Hank. That's it. Say, what you got these bars for? It's like jail. Are they afraid you'll jump out on them rocks?

Jonathan. No, I guess not. There isn't much danger of my wanting to jump out.

Hank. You never can tell for sure, young feller.

Jonathan. It's to keep people from climbing in.

Hank. There ain't no bars over that one. (_Pointing to gable window_)

Jonathan. That's too high.

Hank. It'd be like fallin' off the top of a house, wouldn't it?

[_Whistles._

_Jonathan whistles "All on a Summer's Day."_

Hank. What you got there?

Jonathan. That's my theatre.

Hank. A show?

Jonathan. Yes.

Hank. How does it work?

Jonathan. These are the actors.

Hank. What's the string fer?

Jonathan. You put him in a groove and pull him.

Hank. Lemme see it.

Jonathan. All right. I'll show you a scene from the play I'm going to play for my Uncle Nathaniel tomorrow.

Hank. Fire away.

[_Jonathan lights the lamps that are back of the screen and pulls the blinds or some cover over the barred windows._

Hank. I wouldn't have all this junk if you'd give it to me. No, sir, when I move I carry my house with me and there ain't much o' that now. (_Indicates his clothes_)

Jonathan. All ready. Now you sit there.

[_Places Hank on the bench._

_He goes behind the screen and taps some bells._

Hank. What's that fer?

Jonathan. That's to get ready.

Hank. Well, I'm ready.

[_Jonathan opens the curtain and discloses a scene from Zenobia._

That's beautiful. It's just like real.

[_Jonathan pulls a figure across the stage._

Hello, old man. That's the one I jus' seen. Where's the string?

[_Jonathan lifts the string._

Jonathan. Here it is.

Hank. Now where's that feller goin' to?

JONATHAN (_coming out from behind the screen_)

Well, you see, _Zenobia_--

Hank. _Zenob_--God, what a name!

Jonathan. They used to have names like that.

Hank. How d' you do it?

Jonathan. Look, I'll show you a little.

[_He goes behind the screen and closes the curtain._

Hank. What you doin' that for? I like to see that picture.

Jonathan. I'm going to show you how I do it.

[_Jonathan rings the bells._

Hank. All right. I'm ready. Let her go.

[_Jonathan opens the curtain and pulls a character on, then another._

JONATHAN (_in assumed voice_)

"Hail, noble duke." "All is well, I ween."

Hank. Say, are they talkin' to each other?

Jonathan. Yes.

Hank. Which is the noble duke?

JONATHAN (_pulling a string_)

This one.

Hank. And the other one's name is Iween, ain't it?

Jonathan. No, his name is Rollo.

[Illustration: JONATHAN MAKES A WISH

ACT I.]

Hank. All right, fire ahead. I guess you know what you're doing.

JONATHAN (_in assumed voice_)

"Hail, noble duke."

"All is well, I ween."

"Not very well, noble duke."

"What is wrong?"

"Queen Zenobia is very mad, noble duke."

"What is she mad about, Rollo?"

[_Uncle John enters suddenly._

John. Jonathan--

[_He sees Hank._

What does this mean?

Hank. I'm seein' a show.

John. You get out of here this instant.

Hank. I ain't hurtin' nothin', mister, but I'll git out if you say so.

John. What do you mean by this, Jonathan?

Hank. I'll git out. Thank you fer the show, boy.

[_He goes out whistling._

_John crosses to the door._

JOHN (_calling after Hank_)

Come on, get out of here quickly.

HANK (_off_)

I'm out, mister.

John. Now, Jonathan, what do you mean by bringing such people into this place?

Jonathan. I didn't bring him in. He came up while I was working.

John. Do you call that silly stuff _working_?

Jonathan. I was getting it ready for Uncle Nathaniel.

John. He's been putting that nonsense in your head, has he?

Jonathan. He asked me to let him see all my plays.

John. I suppose he told you to ask that dirty tramp in here.

Jonathan. No, sir. He didn't see the tramp.

[_Hank is heard whistling._

_John crosses to one of the windows and opens it._

JOHN (_calling_)

You get away from there. Move on.

HANK'S VOICE

I guess the roadside's free, mister.

John. We'll see about that.

[_Hank whistles._

John. Jonathan, I won't have you waste your time on this stuff. I've been pretty lenient with you and I've allowed you to keep your toys because Emily spoiled you; but you're too big for such things and I'm going to put my foot down right now. I'm not going to have this silly stuff around.

Jonathan. Uncle Nathaniel doesn't think it's silly.

John. I'll decide what is and is not good for you.

Jonathan. The same thing isn't good for everybody.

John. Don't talk back to me, young man.

Jonathan. I've got a right to think.

John. Jonathan!

Jonathan. If my mother was living, she wouldn't call everything I like to do silly.

John. Your mother didn't know what was good for you.

Jonathan. My mother was the best woman in the world.

John. That will do, Jonathan. Your mother was my sister and I am not saying anything against her. But I do say that stuff must go.

[_He starts for the door._

Jonathan. If this theatre goes, I go, too. I'm not--

[_John walks over to the theatre and sweeps the whole structure onto the floor._

John. Now.

Jonathan. You dirty coward, you--

[_John turns upon the boy and strikes him across the face._

_In mingled rage and humiliation Jonathan sobs wildly once or twice, then controls himself and glares violently at his uncle._

John. I'll let you think about it. I'll leave you here with your toys like a girl-baby.

[_He goes out the door, closing it and turning the key in the lock._

_Jonathan runs to the door._

Jonathan. You let me out of here! You let me out of here!

[_He pounds the door with his fists._

_Then he turns in despair and humiliation._

_He paces the floor a moment, not knowing what to do. Suddenly Hank's whistle is heard. The boy listens as though fascinated and goes to the window and watches Hank. Jonathan goes to his wrecked theatre and, taking it up, piles his manuscripts, the pink and the blue, on it. He hesitates to include one in the pile, offering once or twice to put it in his pocket, but he finally places it in grim determination with the others. Then he takes it off and stuffs it in his pocket. He stuffs the pile in the stove and sets a match to it, watches it a moment, then writes on a piece of paper, fastens it to the door. Then he finds a piece of rope on a packing case, moves the ladder under the gable window, fastens the rope to a peg in the wall, climbs the ladder, considers a moment, returns to the stove with the beloved manuscript, stuffs it in the fire, remounts the ladder and lets his weight onto the rope. As he disappears from view, the rope breaks and a cry and sound of falling are heard._

_The flames from the burning theatre and manuscripts flicker against the wall for a silent moment._

_The key is heard to turn in the lock and John and Nathaniel enter._

John. Jonathan!

Nathaniel. He's hiding.

John. Jonathan!

NATHANIEL (_Sees paper on door_)

What's this?

John. What does it say?

Nathaniel. "Good-bye!... Jonathan."

JOHN (_Looks suspiciously at Nathaniel_)

Did you tell the silly boy about your running away?

Nathaniel. I told Jonathan nothing about myself. You are the head of the Clay family and out of custom I respected your position; but, by God, John, you're a failure with this boy.

John. He--

[_Hank enters carrying Jonathan in his arms. Jonathan is limp and pitiful. His clothes are torn. He is moaning pitifully._

Hank. He fell on the rocks out there.

Nathaniel. Put him over here.

[_Hank places Jonathan on the bench near the piano. Nathaniel places the costume, which Susan left there, under his head for a pillow._

John. What was he doing?

Hank. He was--

Nathaniel. This is no time for questions, John. Call a doctor.

[_Jonathan moans and rolls his head, looking vacantly at Hank now and then._

JONATHAN (_moaning_)

Good-bye.... Jonathan.

John. We'd better take him in the house.

Jonathan. My mother was the best woman--

Nathaniel. He'd better stay here until the doctor comes.

[_John exits._

Jonathan. All on a summer's day--

[_All the time Nathaniel has been passing his hands over Jonathan._

Hank. He's out of his head, ain't he?

Nathaniel. Perhaps, but sometimes one's heart speaks in a delirium.

Hank. He acts like his back's broke.

Nathaniel. My God--his back!

[_Touches the boy's back._

_Jonathan winces with pain._

Jonathan. My back's broken, Hank.

Hank. Listen, he's saying my name. We wuz pals, sure nuff.

Jonathan. My back's broken, Hank.

_Curtain._