Plays by Susan Glaspell Part 46

(_Sits down, his back to them_.)

EMIL: (_after a silence_) Well, I'll go. (_but he continues to look at_ IRA, _who is holding the sack of com shut, as if someone may take it_) Too bad--(_stopped by a sign from_ MADELINE, _not to speak of it_) Well, I was saying, I have go on to Beard's Crossing. I'll stop for you on my way back. (_confidentially_) Couldn't you telephone your uncle? He could do something. You don't know what you're going up against. You heard what the Hindus got, I suppose.

MADELINE: No. I haven't seen anyone to-day.

EMIL: They're held for the grand jury. They're locked up now. No bail for them. I've got the inside dope about them. They're going to get what this country can hand 'em; then after we've given them a nice little taste of prison life in America, they're going to be sent back home--to see what India can treat them to.

MADELINE: Why are you so pleased about this, Emil?

EMIL: Pleased? It's nothin' to me--I'm just telling you. Guess you don't know much about the Espionage Act or you'd go and make a little friendly call on your uncle. When your case comes to trial--and Judge Lenon may be on the bench--(_whistles_) He's one fiend for Americanism. But if your uncle was to tell the right parties that you're just a girl, and didn't realize what you were saying--

MADELINE: I did realize what I was saying, and every word you've just said makes me know I meant what I said. I said if this was what our country has come to, then I'm not for our country. I said that--and a-plenty more--and I'll say it again!

EMIL: Well--gee, you don't know what it means.

MADELINE: I do know what it means, but it means not being a coward.

EMIL: Oh, well--Lord, you can't say everything you think. If everybody did that, things'd be worse off than they are now.

MADELINE: Once in a while you have to say what you think--or hate yourself.

EMIL: (_with a grin_) Then hate yourself.

MADELINE: (_smiling too_) No thank you; it spoils my fun.

EMIL: Well, look-a-here, Madeline, aren't you spoiling your fun now?

You're a girl who liked to be out. Ain't I seen you from our place, with this one and that one, sometimes all by yourself, strikin' out over the country as if you was crazy about it? How'd you like to be where you couldn't even see out?

MADELINE: (_a step nearer the cell_) There oughtn't to be such places.

EMIL: Oh, well--Jesus, if you're going to talk about that--! You can't change the way things are.

MADELINE: (_quietly_) Why can't I?

EMIL: Well, say, who do you think you are?

MADELINE: I think I'm an American. And for that reason I think I have something to say about America.

EMIL: Huh! America'll lock you up for your pains.

MADELINE: All right. If it's come to that, maybe I'd rather be a locked-up American than a free American.

EMIL: I don't think you'd like the place, Madeline. There's not much tennis played there. Jesus--what's Hindus?

MADELINE: You aren't really asking Jesus, are you, Emil? (_smiles_) You mightn't like his answer.

EMIL: (_from the door_) Take a tip. Telephone your uncle.

(_He goes_.)

IRA: (_not looking at her_) There might be a fine, and they'd come down on me and take my land.

MADELINE: Oh, no, father, I think not. Anyway, I have a little money of my own. Grandfather Morton left me something. Have you forgotten that?

IRA: No. No, I know he left you something. (_the words seem to bother him_) I know he left you something.

MADELINE: I get it to-day. (_wistfully_) This is my birthday, father.

I'm twenty-one.

IRA: Your birthday? Twenty-one? (_in pain_) Was that twenty-one years ago? (_it is not to his daughter this has turned him_)

MADELINE: It's the first birthday I can remember that I haven't had a party.

IRA: It was your Aunt Isabel gave you your parties.

MADELINE: Yes.

IRA: Well, you see now.

MADELINE: (_stoutly_) Oh, well, I don't need a party. I'm grown up now.

(_She reaches out for the old Hungarian dish on the table; holding it, she looks to her father, whose back is still turned. Her face tender, she is about to speak when he speaks_.)

IRA: Grown up now--and going off and leaving me alone. You too--the last one. And--_what for? (turning, looking around the room as for those long gone_) There used to be so many in this house. My grandmother. She sat there. (_pointing to the place near the open door_) Fine days like this--in that chair (_points to the rocker_) she'd sit there--tell me stories of the Indians. Father. It wasn't ever lonely where father was.

Then Madeline Fejevary--my Madeline came to this house. Lived with me in this house. Then one day she--walked out of this house. Through that door--through the field--out of this house. (_bitter silence_) Then Fred--out of this house. Now you. With Emil Johnson! (_insanely, and almost with relief at leaving things more sane_) Don't let him touch my corn. If he touches one kernel of this corn! (_with the suspicion of the tormented mind_) I wonder where he went? How do I know he went where he _said_ he was going? (_getting up_) I dunno as that south bin's locked.

MADELINE: Oh--father!

IRA: I'll find out. How do I know what he's doing?

(_He goes out, turning left_. MADELINE _goes to the window and looks after him. A moment later, hearing someone at the door, she turns and finds her_ AUNT ISABEL, _who has appeared from right. Goes swiftly to her, hands out_.)

MADELINE: Oh, _auntie_--I'm glad you came! It's my birthday, and I'm--lonely.

AUNT ISABEL: You dear little girl! (_again giving her a hug, which_ MADELINE _returns, lovingly_) Don't I know it's your birthday? Don't think that day will ever get by while your Aunt Isabel's around. Just see what's here for your birthday. (_hands her the package she is carrying_)

MADELINE: (_with a gasp--suspecting from its shape_) Oh! (_her face aglow_) Why--_is_ it?

AUNT ISABEL: (_laughing affectionately_) Foolish child, open it and see.

(MADELINE _loosens the paper and pulls out a tennis racket_.)

MADELINE: (_excited, and moved_) Oh, aunt Isabel! that was dear of you.

I shouldn't have thought you'd--quite do that.

AUNT ISABEL: I couldn't imagine Madeline without a racket. (_gathering up the paper, lightly reproachful_) But be a little careful of it, Madeline. It's meant for tennis b.a.l.l.s. (_they laugh together_)

MADELINE: (_making a return with it_) It's a _peach_. (_changing_) Wonder where I'll play now.