Fifty Contemporary One-Act Plays - LightNovelsOnl.com
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HAMMER. There's something the matter with all of us. How is your throat, Helms?
HELMS. Pretty good. [_There is silence again._]
HANSEN. Fine weather to-day.
JOHNSTON. Regular birthday weather.
HAMMER. On my birthday it always rains.
HANSEN [_points to the window_]. You can see the sun from here.
BUFFE. I read in the papers about your son-in-law's appointment.
HELMS [_shortly_]. Yes?
JOHNSTON. Yes, we must congratulate you over again.
HANSEN. Helms is the luckiest man in the place.
HAMMER. Has your grandson been here yet?
HELMS. No.
BUFFE. Of course he's coming.
HELMS. I don't know.
JOHNSTON. Of course he'll come on your birthday. He's a fine young fellow.
HANSEN. Yes, indeed, Helms, you should be proud of him.
HAMMER [_sees Knut's portrait_]. There he is. [_All except Helms and Bolling look at the picture._]
HANSEN. Looks something like his grandfather.
JOHNSTON. Yes, it's a striking resemblance.
HAMMER. The nose.
JOHNSTON. And the eyes--look at the eyes.
HANSEN. Yes.
BUFFE. We are looking at his grandson's picture, Bolling.
[_Bolling stares indifferently. Helms casts apprehensive glances at Krakau._]
HAMMER. Look at the gifts.
HANSEN. He's a lucky man.
JOHNSTON [_with a sigh_]. Ah yes, when you have your family--
BUFFE [_showing the stockings_]. Helms got some wonderful birthday presents, Bolling.
BOLLING [_feeling them_]. Good wool.
HANSEN [_suddenly_]. What is Krakau doing over there?
HELMS [_angrily_]. Yes, why don't you stop skulking over there like a homeless dog.
BUFFE [_to Hammer_]. They have quarreled.
HAMMER. I guess so. [_To Hansen._] Have they had a fight?
HANSEN. I don't know.
JOHNSTON. That's right, be sociable, Krakau.
HELMS [_irritably_]. Why don't you get the wine, Krakau?
KRAKAU. How should I know--
HELMS [_interrupts_]. You know it is in the closet. [_Krakau takes bottle and gla.s.ses from the cupboard._]
HAMMER [_delighted_]. Did you say wine?
BUFFE. Wine! Did you hear?
HANSEN. You might think Helms was a postal inspector himself.
JOHNSTON. More than that! He's a millionaire in disguise. Krakau can tell you--he has stockings full of good red gold.
[_Krakau pours the wine. All watch with eager eyes. The sun now s.h.i.+nes full in the room._]
KRAKAU. Hadn't we better push the tables together.
HELMS [_petulantly_]. No. It's my birthday. And we can do very well without your table.
HAMMER. There'd be more room with both tables.
BUFFE. We can't all sit around one table.
HELMS. All right--push them together. [_They do so._]
JOHNSTON. We must fix our tables this way, too, Peter.
HANSEN. All right.
