The Easiest Way Part 11

[_Hurdy-gurdy dies out_.

LAURA. Yes, and there's always to-day to look after.

JIM. I'm ready to give up. I've tramped Broadway for nine weeks until every piece of flagstone gives me the laugh when it sees my feet coming. Got a letter from the missis this morning. The kids got to have some clothes, there's measles in the town, and mumps in the next village. I've just got to raise some money or get some work, or the first thing you'll know I'll be hanging around Central Park on a dark night with a club.

LAURA. I know just how you feel. Sit down, Jim. [JIM _crosses and sits in chair right of table_.] It's pretty tough for me [_Offers_ JIM _gla.s.s of milk; he refuses; takes crackers_.], but it must be a whole lot worse for you with a wife and kids.

JIM. Oh, if a man's alone he can generally get along--turn his hand to anything; but a woman--

LAURA. Worse, you think?

JIM. I was just thinking about you and what Burgess said?

LAURA. What was that?

[_Crosses to bed; sits on up-stage side, sipping milk_.

JIM. You know Burgess and I used to be in the circus business together. He took care of the grafters when I was boss canvas man. I never could see any good in shaking down the rubes for all the money they had and then taking part of it. He used to run the privilege car, you know.

LAURA. Privilege car?

JIM. Had charge of all the pickpockets,--dips we called 'em--sure-thing gamblers, and the like. Made him rich. I kept sort o'

on the level and I'm broke. Guess it don't pay to be honest--

LAURA. [_Turns to him and in a significant voice_:] You don't really think that?

JIM. No, maybe not. Ever since I married the missis and the first kid come, we figured the only good money was the kind folks worked for and earned; but when you can't get hold of that, it's tough.

LAURA. I know.

JIM. Burgess don't seem to be losing sleep over the tricks he's turned. He's happy and prosperous, but I guess he ain't any better now than he was then.

LAURA. Maybe not. I've been trying to get an engagement from him.

There are half a dozen parts in his new attractions that I could do, but he has never absolutely said "no," but yet somehow he's never said "yes."

JIM. He spoke about you.

LAURA. In what way? [_Rising, stands behind_ JIM'S _chair._

JIM. I gave him my address and he seen it was yours, too. Asked if I lived in the same place.

LAURA. Was that all?

JIM. Wanted to know how you was getting on. I let him know you needed work, but I didn't tip my hand you was flat broke. He said something about you being a d.a.m.ned fool.

LAURA. [_Suddenly and interested._] How? [_She crosses._

JIM. Well, Johnny Ensworth--you know he used to do the fights on the _Evening Journal_; now he's press-agent for Burgess; nice fellow and way on the inside--he told me where you were in wrong.

LAURA. What have I done? [_Sits in armchair._

JIM. Burgess don't put up the money for any of them musical comedies--he just trails. Of course he's got a lot of influence, and he's always Johnny-on-the-Spot to turn any dirty trick that they want. There are four or five rich men in town who are there with the bank-roll, providing he engages women who ain't so very particular about the location of their residence, and who don't hear a curfew ring at 11:30 every night.

LAURA. And he thinks I am too particular?

JIM. That's what was slipped me. Seems that one of the richest men that is in on Mr. Burgess's address-book is a fellow named Brockton from downtown some place. He's got more money than the Shoe and Leather National Bank. He likes to play show business.

LAURA. [_Rises quickly._] Oh! [_Crosses to wardrobe, gets hat; crosses to dresser, gets scissors with intention of curling feathers._

JIM. I thought you knew him. I thought it was just as well to tell you where he and Burgess stand. They're pals.

LAURA. [_Coming over to_ JIM _and with emphasis crosses to down-stage side of bed; puts hat and scissors on bed._] I don't want you to talk about him or any of them. I just want you to know that I'm trying to do everything in my power to go through this season without any more trouble. I've p.a.w.ned everything I've got; I've cut every friend I knew. But where am I going to end? That's what I want to know--where am I going to end? [_To bed and sits_.] Every place I look for a position something interferes. It's almost as if I were blacklisted.

I know I could get jobs all right if I wanted to pay the price, but I won't. I just want to tell you, I won't. No!

[_Rises, crosses to mantel, rests elbow._

JIM. That's the way to talk. [_Rises._] I don't know you very well, but I've watched you close. I'm just a common, ordinary showman who never had much money, and I'm going out o' date. I've spent most of my time with n.i.g.g.e.r-minstrel shows and circuses, but I've been on the square. That's why I'm broke. [_Rather sadly._] Once I thought the missis would have to go back and do her acrobatic act, but she couldn't do that, she's grown so d.a.m.n fat. [_Crosses to_ LAURA.] Just you don't mind. It'll all come out right.

LAURA. It's an awful tough game, isn't it?

JIM. [_During this speech_ LAURA _gets cup, pours milk back into bottle, closes biscuit-box, puts milk on shed outside, and biscuits into wardrobe, cup in alcove._] It's h.e.l.l forty ways from the Jack.

It's tough for me, but for a pretty woman with a lot o' rich fools jumping out o' their automobiles and hanging around stage doors, it must be something awful. I ain't blaming the women. They say "self-preservation is the first law of nature," and I guess that's right; but sometimes when the show is over and I see them fellows with their hair plastered back, smoking cigarettes in a [LAURA _crosses to chair right of table and leans over back._] holder long enough to reach from here to Harlem, and a bank-roll that would bust my pocket and turn my head, I feel as if I'd like to get a gun and go a-shooting around this old town.

LAURA. Jim!

JIM. Yes, I do--you bet.

LAURA. That wouldn't pay, would it?

JIM. No, they're not worth the job of sitting on that throne in Sing Sing, and I'm too poor to go to Matteawan. But all them fellows under nineteen and over fifty-nine ain't much use to themselves or anyone else.

LAURA. [_Rather meditatively._] Perhaps all of them are not so bad.

JIM. [_Sits on bed._] Yes, they are,--angels and all. Last season I had one of them shows where a rich fellow backed it on account of a girl. We lost money and he lost his girl; then we got stuck in Texas. I telegraphed: "Must have a thousand, or can't move." He just answered: "Don't move." We didn't.

LAURA. But that was business.

JIM. Bad business. It took a year for some of them folks to get back to Broadway. Some of the girls never did, and I guess never will.

LAURA. Maybe they're better off, Jim. [_Sits right of table._

JIM. Couldn't be worse. They're still in Texas. [_To himself._] Wish I knew how to do something else, being a plumber or a walking delegate; they always have jobs.

LAURA. Well, I wish I could do something else too, but I can't, and we've got to make the best of it.

JIM. I guess so. I'll see you this evening. I hope you'll have good news by that time. [_Starts to exit, about to open door; then retreats a step, with hand on door-k.n.o.b, crosses and in a voice meant to be kindly_] If you'd like to go to the theatre to-night, and take some other woman in the house, maybe I can get a couple of tickets for some of the shows. I know a lot of fellows who are working.

LAURA. No, thanks. I haven't anything to wear to the theatre, and I don't--