Fifty Contemporary One-Act Plays - LightNovelsOnl.com
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HAMMER. Then it's a good thing she's a nurse.
HELMS. Every young woman ought to be trained as a nurse.
BUFFE [_to Bolling_]. The nurse in the hospital is going to marry the doctor.
BOLLING. I was married, too.
HELMS. Fill the gla.s.ses, Krakau. [_Krakau does._]
BUFFE. How is La.r.s.en's brain fever getting along?
HANSEN. He must be worse. The porter chased the organ grinder away.
HAMMER. I thought I heard the organ. Is this Thursday?
KRAKAU. Thursday, September twentieth.
HELMS [_testily_]. Don't show off, Krakau.
JOHNSTON [_raises his gla.s.s_]. Here's health. Splendid sherry.
KRAKAU [_to Buffe_]. Why aren't you drinking?
BUFFE. Thanks. I never take more than one gla.s.s. This suns.h.i.+ne warms you as much as wine.
HAMMER. I have the morning sun in my window.
HANSEN. So have I. It wakes me up every morning. It's supposed to be healthy.
HELMS. Krakau stole it from me.
KRAKAU. You know very well that--
HELMS. Yes you did. And the stove, too.
KRAKAU. The stove--
HELMS. Isn't the morning sun on your side?
KRAKAU. Yes, but--
HELMS. And the stove, too?
KRAKAU. Didn't you--
HELMS. Nothing of the kind. You live on the east side, and the morning sun is healthiest.
KRAKAU. We can change, for my part.
HELMS. Do you hear that? Now he wants to steal my view of the street, too?
HAMMER. What do you old friends want to quarrel for?
JOHNSTON. And on your birthday.
HELMS. Who is quarreling?
BUFFE. You may be well satisfied with the afternoon sun, Helms. See how beautifully it s.h.i.+nes in the window. Look at the sun, Bolling.
BOLLING. I've seen it before.
BUFFE [_explaining with pride_]. Bolling used to be a carpenter, you know. He traveled all over the world.
BOLLING. I have seen everything.
[_There is a rap at the door. Silence. Krakau opens it, Knut enters._]
KNUT [_to Krakau_]. h.e.l.lo, Grandpop! [_To Helms, shaking his hand._]
Congratulations, grandfather. [_To the others._] h.e.l.lo, everybody.
[_The old men nod their heads, delighted. Buffe whispers to Bolling._]
BUFFE. It's Knut. The son of Helms' daughter.
BOLLING. I had a son.
HELMS. I'm glad you came my--my son [_glares at Krakau defiantly._]
KNUT. I can only stay a minute. Have you heard about father's appointment?
JOHNSTON. He's been bragging to us about it, sonny.
HAMMER. And treated us to sherry.
BOLLING. Port wine is poison.
HANSEN. And cigars.
KNUT. Not really!
HELMS. Why don't you hang up your cap?
KNUT. I must be off in a minute. Back to school. I had only an hour's leave, and it takes half an hour to ride each way.
BUFFE. How old are you, my boy?
KNUT. Seventeen.
BUFFE. It's sixty-one years since I was that young. He's only seventeen, Bolling.
