Tales of the Jazz Age - LightNovelsOnl.com
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JULIE: h.e.l.lo! (_No answer_) Are you a plumber? (_No answer_) Are you the water department? (_One loud, hollow bang_) What do you want? (_No answer_) I believe you're a ghost. Are you? (_No answer_) Well, then, stop banging. (_She reaches out and turns on the warm tap. No water flows. Again she puts her mouth down close to the spigot_) If you're the plumber that's a mean trick. Turn it on for a fellow. (_Two loud, hollow bangs_) Don't argue! I want water--water! _Water_!
(_A young man's head appears in the window--a head decorated with a slim mustache and sympathetic eyes. These last stare, and though they can see nothing but many fishermen with nets and much crimson ocean, they decide him to speak_)
THE YOUNG MAN: Some one fainted?
JULIE: (_Starting up, all ears immediately_) Jumping cats!
THE YOUNG MAN: (_Helpfully_) Water's no good for fits.
JULIE: Fits! Who said anything about fits!
THE YOUNG MAN: You said something about a cat jumping
JULIE: (_Decidedly_) I did not!
THE YOUNG MAN: Well, we can talk it over later, Are you ready to go out? Or do you still feel that if you go with me just now everybody will gossip?
JULIE: (_Smiling_) Gossip! Would they? It'd be more than gossip--it'd be a regular scandal.
THE YOUNG MAN: Here, you're going it a little strong. Your family might be somewhat disgruntled--but to the pure all things are suggestive. No one else would even give it a thought, except a few old women. Come on.
JULIE: You don't know what you ask.
THE YOUNG MAN: Do you imagine we'd have a crowd following us?
JULIE: A crowd? There'd be a special, all-steel, buffet train leaving New York hourly.
THE YOUNG MAN: Say, are you house-cleaning?
JULIE: Why?
THE YOUNG MAN: I see all the pictures are off the walls.
JULIE: Why, we never have pictures in this room.
THE YOUNG MAN: Odd, I never heard of a room without pictures or tapestry or panelling or something.
JULIE: There's not even any furniture in here.
THE YOUNG MAN: What a strange house!
JULIE: It depend on the angle you see it from.
THE YOUNG MAN: (_Sentimentally_) It's so nice talking to you like this--when you're merely a voice. I'm rather glad I can't see you.
JULIE; (_Gratefully_) So am I.
THE YOUNG MAN: What color are you wearing?
JULIE: (_After a critical survey of her shoulders_) Why, I guess it's a sort of pinkish white.
THE YOUNG MAN: Is it becoming to you?
JULIE: Very. It's--it's old. I've had it for a long while.
THE YOUNG MAN: I thought you hated old clothes.
JULIE: I do but this was a birthday present and I sort of have to wear it.
THE YOUNG MAN: Pinkish-white. Well I'll bet it's divine. Is it in style?
JULIE: Quite. It's very simple, standard model.
THE YOUNG MAN: What a voice you have! How it echoes! Sometimes I shut my eyes and seem to see you in a far desert island calling for me. And I plunge toward you through the surf, hearing you call as you stand there, water stretching on both sides of you--
(_The soap slips from the side of the tub and splashes in. The young man blinks_)
YOUNG MAN: What was that? Did I dream it?
JULIE: Yes. You're--you're very poetic, aren't you?
THE YOUNG MAN: (_Dreamily_) No. I do prose. I do verse only when I am stirred.
JULIE: (_Murmuring_) Stirred by a spoon--
THE YOUNG MAN: I have always loved poetry. I can remember to this day the first poem I ever learned by heart. It was "Evangeline."
JULIE: That's a fib.
THE YOUNG MAN: Did I say "Evangeline"? I meant "The Skeleton in Armor."
JULIE: I'm a low-brow. But I can remember my first poem. It had one verse:
Parker and Davis Sittin' on a fence Tryne to make a dollar Outa fif-teen cents.
THE YOUNG MAN: (_Eagerly_) Are you growing fond of literature?
JULIE: If it's not too ancient or complicated or depressing. Same way with people. I usually like 'em not too ancient or complicated or depressing.
THE YOUNG MAN: Of course I've read enormously. You told me last night that you were very fond of Walter Scott.
JULIE: (_Considering_) Scott? Let's see. Yes, I've read "Ivanhoe"
and "The Last of the Mohicans."
THE YOUNG MAN: That's by Cooper.
JULIE: (_Angrily_) "Ivanhoe" is? You're crazy! I guess I know. I read it. THE YOUNG MAN: "The Last of the Mohicans" is by Cooper.
