  The same as Act I—one year later. Early afternoon. A moment after the rise of the curtain Lucy Belle enters, Left, carrying her hat and jacket. She advances to Center and lays them on the table. Her walk is listless and her eyes are bright with nervous fatigue. She glances at the alarm clock which stands on top of the cupboard, Left Center. The hands point to half-past twelve. She drops down in a chair to the left of the table and stares dismally before her. Presently she rests her elbows on her knees, bends forward, covers her face with her hands and gives way to a series of dry, racking sobs. LUCY BELLE (looking up eventually with a face full of woe) Sam! Mah ole Sam-boy—come back ter me! Ain’ yo’ evah gwine ter come back? Honey-baby! Mah own honey-baby, buddy boy! (From off stage, Right, as though proceeding from the upstairs room come the weird, discordant, thin strains of a hymn played on an old wheezy organ, and an old Negro can be heard singing it in deep, unsteady tones. Lucy Belle becomes momentarily composed and sits listening as though the music soothed her. In the course of several moments she rises, goes to the mirror which hangs on the wall, Right, and stands before it wiping her eyes and adjusting her hair. Presently the music stops, and someone can be heard coming slowly and heavily down the stairs, Right. Abruptly the door, Right, opens and old man Pocher enters. He is a very old Negro with white hair and a face seamed with wrinkles. His back is quite bent and he walks with the aid of a heavy, gnarled stick. His manner is a combination of the patriarchal-Calvinistic, and that of the homely, old, ante-bellum house servant. He wears an old black suit of clothes, green with age, and carries an old and very dusty felt hat.) LUCY BELLE H’yo’, Mistah Pocher! POCHER Howdy, chile—howdy! Ain’ yo’ wukkin’ terday? LUCY BELLE Sho’! Jes’ home fo’ a lil’ while. Gwine back d’rectly. POCHER (with stern resentment) Dem boys skylarkin’ agin las’ night—! LUCY BELLE Gawd sakes—! POCHER Put salt on de do’step—! LUCY BELLE De dirty devils—! POCHER Secon’ time dis week! Wust neighborhood I’se evah in! LUCY BELLE ’Deed I’se gwine ter stay home ternight an’ git ’em. POCHER (fiercely) Git so many evil sparits ’roun’ dat dey choke yo’ ter deaf in yo’ sleep. LUCY BELLE Ef dey don’ stop I’se gwine ter put de po-lice on ’em. POCHER Dey wuk on me night fo’ las’— LUCY BELLE Who? POCHER Evil sparits! Wuk on me till I kain’t hardly breafe. Yo’ yere me wrestlin’ wid ’em? LUCY BELLE Gawd, no! POCHER Ain’ gwine ter put up wid it no longer. LUCY BELLE ’Deed I don’ want yo’ ter, Mistah Pocher. POCHER (vehemently) Ain’ gwine ter! All dey is ’bout it! LUCY BELLE Boys in dis alley ain’ had no bringin’ up. POCHER (advancing to the door, Back) Salt on de do’step wust thin’ in de worl’ ter bring evil sparits ’roun’. LUCY BELLE Yas, indeedy! I knows it is. POCHER (at the door, Back) Gwine down ter de sto’. Reckon I be right back. LUCY BELLE (nodding) Make up yo’ bed fo’ yo’ d’rectly. (Pocher nods and grunts and goes out, Back, closing the door after him. Lucy Belle stands for a moment, pondering, and a thin smile plays over her face. At length she turns and moves listlessly toward the door, Right. As she reaches there, comes the sound of boyish shouts and laughter and the shuffling of feet about the door, Back. Lucy Belle pauses and listens. She scowls darkly, hurries to the door, and throws it open. This is followed immediately by the clatter of scurrying feet and taunting shouts as those who were about the door run rapidly down the alley.) LUCY BELLE (standing in the doorway and shouting angrily after them) I seen yo’ Jack Kramer! Yo’ too, Lippy an’ Mule! Keep away from yere or I’se gwine ter wring yo’ damn necks! Yas, yo’s—Lippy! I ain’ scar’t of none-a yo’! Quit skylarkin’ ’roun’ dis door! Sweah out-a warran’ fo’ yo’, too! (She stands glaring off Left at them. Slim suddenly appears from Right.) SLIM H’yo’, Luce! LUCY BELLE (shortly, as she steps back into the room) ’Lo, Slim. SLIM (entering, Back, and noting her ill-humor) W’at’s de mattah? LUCY BELLE (closing the door) Oh, dat Jack an’ Lippy an’ Mule is allas skylarkin’ ’roun’ mah do’. SLIM Tryin’ ter git back at yo’? LUCY BELLE (shaking her head) Makin’ out ter plague ole man Pocher. SLIM Git somefin’ on him? LUCY BELLE (nodding) Gits wise dat he scar’t ter deaf ob evil sparits—an’ bein’ conjuhed. SLIM Sho’ nuff! LUCY BELLE Lil’ while aftah he rents dis room—an’ been aftah him evah since. Puts salt on de do’step an’ ev’thin’ like dat. SLIM Bus’ ’em in de haid. LUCY BELLE Do wuss’ an dat ef dey keeps on. SLIM Clean up fo’ ’em! LUCY BELLE I sho’ gwine ter ef dey don’ lay off him! (In tones of pondering indignation and protest.) Dat room is hard ter rent. Ole man Pocher is kep’ it longer den anabody. (Slim nods.) Two mon’s dere could’n’ rent it at all—an’ ole Jennie Wurmser goes off owin’ me fo’ five weeks. SLIM How long Pocher been yere? LUCY BELLE Free mon’s. SLIM He sing too much. LUCY BELLE Ain’ boderin’ ’bout dat so long as I gits mah money ev’y Monday mawnin’. SLIM Whar he git his money? LUCY BELLE Son in New York send it ter him. I couldn’ hardly git by now widout somefin’ like dat comin’ in reg’lar ev’y week. SLIM Wukkin’ now? LUCY BELLE Sho’ I’se wukkin! SLIM Whar? LUCY BELLE Fo’ Moy Wing—up on Seventh Street. SLIM Chink—? (Lucy Belle nods.) W’at doin’? LUCY BELLE Washin’ an’ iron’. W’at yo’ think? SLIM Steady? LUCY BELLE Free times a week—Monday, We’nesday, an’ Friday. SLIM Dat ain’ no kin’-a job. LUCY BELLE Yo’ go out an’ git me a bettah one. SLIM (with a laugh) Sho’—! LUCY BELLE An’ git yo’se’f one an’ keep it. SLIM Been in hospital. LUCY BELLE Yo’ ain’ dere now. SLIM I git one quick ’nuff. Don’ yo’ worry. LUCY BELLE Git it! SLIM Dem Chinks is crazy ’bout Niggahs an’ white people’s hearts. LUCY BELLE Go ’long! SLIM Sho! Dey kills yo’, cuts out yo’ heart, an’ eats it. Ef yo’ eats a heart nobody kin cunjuh yo’—an’ each one dat yo’ eat give yo’ a yeah’s luck. LUCY BELLE Yo’ crazy! I knowed Moy Wing ’long time. SLIM Kain’t trus’ none ob ’em. LUCY BELLE I ain’ scar’t-a him. He ain’ gwine ter do nuffin’ ter me. (Shakes her head.) Onlies’ kin’-a job dat do fo’ me right now. SLIM How yo’ make dat out? LUCY BELLE Kain’t stay ’way from de chillen all de time. (Sighs and drops down in a chair. Draws a hand across her forehead.) Gawd—! SLIM W’at’s de mattah? LUCY BELLE I’se tired. Wash dis mawnin’. Got ter go back dis aftahnoon an’ iron. SLIM Wuk yo’ ter deaf. LUCY BELLE Be twict as hard ef I’se wukkin’ ev’y day. (With a little wistful cry.) Ef—ef Sam was only yere—den—den I would’n’ care how hard I haf ter wuk—or ’bout nuffin’—(Staring abstractedly into space.) Be a yeah de fust-a nex’ monf since he wen’ ter jail. SLIM Sho’ nuff—! LUCY BELLE (shaking her head) Seem like five yeahs. (Pause. Lucy Belle sits staring into space. Slim nonchalantly rolls a cigarette.) SLIM W’at become ob Jeff? LUCY BELLE I don’ know. Dey nevah done nuffin’ ter him. He was in de hospital fo’ a while. He lef’ town soon as he gits out an’ I ain’ nevah seen him since. SLIM (at length, as he lights the cigarette) How long is Sam up fo’? LUCY BELLE Fo’ yeahs—! SLIM Maybe he git out sooner—fo’ bein’ good. Kain’t tell. LUCY BELLE (jumping up with an eager cry and searching his face) Yo’—yo’ think so, Slim? SLIM Dey does sometimes. LUCY BELLE How—how soon yo’ think dey let him out? SLIM Don’ know. Yo’ nevah kain tell. LUCY BELLE Maybe in anoder yeah? SLIM Ef he have any luck. LUCY BELLE (clasping her hands tightly together and raising her eyes heavenward) Oh, Gawd! Ef he only do—! I kin make out fo’ ’noder yeah ef I keeps wukkin’ fo’ Moy—an’ washin’ extra yere at home like I is—an’ ef I keeps de room rented right ’long. SLIM Yo’ ain’ gwine ter have no trouble. LUCY BELLE Ef Pocher only keep dat room an’ pay me reg’lar. (Old man Pocher is heard grumbling and grunting to himself immediately outside the door, off stage, Back.) Yere he come now! (The door, Back, opens and Pocher enters, carrying a small package under his arms. He stands in the doorway and points angrily with his cane at the doorstep.) POCHER Look dere! Look! Yo’ see—! LUCY BELLE W’at—? POCHER (trembling with anger and fear) Salt on de do’step agin! LUCY BELLE Gawd sakes! POCHER Tol’ yo’ I was’n’ gwine ter put up wid it no longer! LUCY BELLE I did’n’ know dey done it. POCHER Yo’ bus’ness ter watch ’em! LUCY BELLE I does try ter. POCHER Oughter put de po-lice on ’em long ’go. LUCY BELLE Gwine ter—right ’way. Ain’ gwine ter wait ’noder minute. POCHER Turrible! Turrible! LUCY BELLE I knows, Mistah Pocher—but— POCHER Third time in de las’ two days. LUCY BELLE (nodding) —but, yo’ see, wid de chillen an’ mah oder wuk— POCHER Kain’t he’p dat—! LUCY BELLE Kain’t allas be stickin’ mah haid out dat do’. POCHER Nevah seen nuffin’ like it. LUCY BELLE Yas, yas—! I’se gwine ter sweep it right off. (She goes to the closet door, up Left, opens it, takes out a broom, closes the door and goes quickly to the doorway, Back, where she stands sweeping off the doorstep.) POCHER De spell done wuk. LUCY BELLE (as she sweeps) Yo’ reckon so? POCHER It wuk ef de salt stay dere two secon’s. LUCY BELLE ’Deed, I’se sorry, Mistah Pocher. POCHER Nuffin’ kin stop ’em rizin’ up now. LUCY BELLE Dem boys ain’ gwine ter git neah dis do’ agin. POCHER Dey riz up an’ riz up on yo’ till de spell done break. LUCY BELLE Yo’ see, I don’ yere ’em ha’f de time—even POCHER Yo’ wan’ ter die? LUCY BELLE (pausing in her work and turning) No, no—Mistah Pocher. POCHER Dem evil sparits git ter wukkin’ on yo’ in yo’ sleep— LUCY BELLE I know, I know— POCHER Liable ter choke yo’ ter deaf. LUCY BELLE Sho’ don’ wan’ nuffin’ like dat ter happen. POCHER Salt on de do’step draw ’em like syrup do flies. LUCY BELLE I know, I know— POCHER (shuffling over to the door, Right) Ain’ gwine ter put up wid it no longer! LUCY BELLE I’se gwine ter do mah bes’ ter stop ’em. POCHER (vehemently) Ain’ gwine ter put up wid it no longer! (He goes out, Right.) LUCY BELLE (her gaze remaining ruefully fixed on the door, Right) Ain’ dat de limit? Gawd—! SLIM Damn ole fool. LUCY BELLE I sartainly gwine ter make trouble fo’ somebody in dis alley. (She turns to the doorway again and completes the task of sweeping off the steps. This done she closes the door, crosses thoughtfully to closet, places the broom in it, then comes down to Left Center. Slim stands, Right Center, puffing away at his cigarette.) LUCY BELLE (abstractedly) Dey gittin’ wuss lately. SLIM Done tol’ yo’ w’at ter do. (Lucy Belle gives a little nod and stands lost in thought. Slim regards her with a look of sly, calculating appraisal.) SLIM (at length) Luce—. LUCY BELLE Yas—? SLIM He’p me out a lil’—? LUCY BELLE W’at yo’ mean? SLIM Lemme eat yere fo’ a few days. LUCY BELLE Eat yere—! SLIM Jes’ till I gits on mah feet. LUCY BELLE (tartly facetious) W’at yo’ standin’ on—yo’ han’s? SLIM Gwine ter take me a week ter git goin’. LUCY BELLE Yo’ mean a monf. SLIM Lay off me wid dat kin’-a talk. LUCY BELLE Nuffin’ doin’—! SLIM Luce—please— LUCY BELLE Yo’ yered w’at I say. SLIM I’se only jes’ out-a de hospital— LUCY BELLE Yo’ own fault yo’ wen’ dere. SLIM Yo’ lie—! LUCY BELLE Git in a fight in Messer’s stable—an’ somebody bus’ yo’ ovah de haid wid a stick. SLIM Who say I did? LUCY BELLE I yered all ’bout it. SLIM Nevah raise a han’—. LUCY BELLE Dat’s wa’t yo’ say. SLIM Gawd’s truf! Nevah done a thin’. Dick Simpson LUCY BELLE I ain’ carin’ ’bout w’at happen—all I knows— SLIM Luce— LUCY BELLE Done feed yo’ all I’se gwine ter! SLIM Wan’ me ter starve? LUCY BELLE Git out an’ hussle—now. Yo’s a lot bettah able den I is. SLIM (harshly reproachful) Gittin’ hard as hell, ain’ yo? LUCY BELLE I reckon I’se gittin’ wise in mah ole age. SLIM Len’ me a dollah, den. LUCY BELLE Len’ yo’ nuffin’, Slim. SLIM Fifty cents—! LUCY BELLE (emphatically, as she shakes her head) No—! SLIM Keep me gwine till termorrer. LUCY BELLE Nuffin’ doin’. SLIM (clenching his fists and coming toward her menacingly) Yo’ bettah by a damn sight change yo’ min’! LUCY BELLE (backing away) Yo’ keep ’way from me, Slim Dorsey! SLIM (with a savage shout) Gimme a dollah—! LUCY BELLE (stopping abruptly and standing her ground squarely) Die fo’ I give yo’ ’noder cent! (He leans forward as though to lunge at her. She steps back a pace.) Don’ yo’ dare lay a han’ on me! Don’ yo’ dare! I’se gwine ter yell “Po-lice!” an’ “Murder!” ef yo’ tech me—! (Old man Pocher is heard coming heavily down the stairs, Right. Both Slim and Lucy Belle turn and listen.) LUCY BELLE Sen’ ole man Pocher out fo’ he’p. (Slim hesitates for a moment or two, then turns and slinks to the door, Back.) SLIM (turning at the door) I git yo’ fo’ dis! LUCY BELLE (defiantly) Git me! (She turns and stands listening as Pocher descends the stairs. At length the door, Right, opens and the old man enters carrying a very old black leather portmanteau—so old and battered and scarred that it looks as though it were about to fall to pieces. There is fiery resolve in Pocher’s eyes. He gives Lucy Belle a sharp glance and makes directly for the door, Back.) LUCY BELLE (hesitatingly) H’yo’, Mistah Pocher—! POCHER (halting and glaring at her) W’at—? LUCY BELLE Yo’—yo’ gwine ’way? POCHER Sho’ I’se gwine ’way. LUCY BELLE Visit yo’ son—? POCHER (fiercely) I’se gwine ter leave dis place fo’ good. LUCY BELLE Leave—fo’ good—! POCHER Tol’ yo’ I was’n’ gwine ter put up wid dat nonsense no longer. LUCY BELLE Oh, but, Mistah Pocher— POCHER Had er vision dat somebody gwine ter make dem evil sparits riz up on me agin. Pack mah valise dis mawnin’ ter be ready. LUCY BELLE I ain’ gwine ter let it happen agin. POCHER Yo’ say dat befo’. LUCY BELLE Gwine ter de station right dis minute an’ put de po-lice on ’em. POCHER Kin feel dem sparits wukkin’ on me now. LUCY BELLE Yo’ kin break de spell. POCHER I’se gwine ter break it by gittin’ ’way. LUCY BELLE Please, Mistah Pocher—don’ go off like dis— POCHER (taking a step or two toward the door) Kain’t stan’ it yere no longer. LUCY BELLE Gimme anoder chanct. POCHER (pausing) Warn yo’ ha’f er dozen times. LUCY BELLE I know—I know— POCHER (proceeding toward the door) Mus’ live in peace—an’ de presence ob de sparit ob de Lawd! LUCY BELLE Mistah Pocher—! POCHER (turning and speaking in fierce tones as he reaches the door) Hush yo’ talk! Done made up mah min’ ter leave dis place! Nuffin’ gwine ter stop me! LUCY BELLE (pulling herself together and speaking in resigned tones) Ef—ef yo’ feels dat way ’bout it—I reckon dey ain’ no use. POCHER I sen’ mah nephew—Joe Davis—’roun’ fo’ mah organ. LUCY BELLE All right. POCHER Reckon he’ll come ’roun’ termorrer wid his wagon. LUCY BELLE Gwine ter pay me? POCHER Pay yo’ fo’ w’at? LUCY BELLE Yo’ been yere free days dis week. (He glares at her, gives a snort, drops the portmanteau, thrusts a hand down in his pocket and brings out a small, soiled bag, tied at the top with a string. He unties the string, fumbles around in the bag, finally pulls out a dirty, torn one-dollar bill.) POCHER (holding it out to her) Yere. LUCY BELLE (advancing and taking it) T-thanks. Might—mighty sorry yo’ gwine off—like dis. (Pocher gives an impatient grunt and mumbles something to himself. He returns the bag to his pocket, picks up his portmanteau and opens the door.) LUCY BELLE Goodbye. POCHER (shortly) Goodbye. (He goes out, Back, closing the door after him.) (Lucy Belle gives a little despairing sigh, then returns slowly to Center, where she halts and stands ISRAEL Mamma! Mamma! LUCY BELLE W’at yo’ wan’ now? FANNY Mamma—! ISRAEL Mamma, I’se hangry! LUCY BELLE Did I call yo’? FANNY No, but— LUCY BELLE Stay out dere an’ play till I calls yo’! FANNY I’se hangry! LUCY BELLE (displaying the pocket book) I’se gwine down ter de mawket in jes a minute. FANNY W’en we gwine ter have dinnah? LUCY BELLE (impatiently) Jes’ as soon as I kin cook it. ISRAEL Mamma—! LUCY BELLE (angrily) Shet up, now—bof-a yo’! Wan’ me ter lock yo’ up? (Israel begins to whimper.) Yo’ yere me? Go on out dere an’ play! (The children hesitate.) Go ’long! Wan’ me ter beat yo’? (They both scamper to the door, Back.) Min’ yo’ don’ go out-a dis alley! (They go out, Back, banging the door shut after them. She drops her pocket book on the table, picks up her coat and puts it on. A light knock sounds on the door, Back. She starts to answer the door, but halts abruptly and a look of suspicion comes over her face. Her eyes light upon the pocket book. She picks it up, goes to the cupboard, Left, drops it in the crockery jar, puts the lid on, closes the cupboard door and hurries to the door, Back. Just as she reaches it, the knock sounds again. She opens it. Chick Avery stands outside.) LUCY BELLE Chick—! CHICK (making an obsequious bow) Dat’s me! LUCY BELLE Come in! (He enters, carrying a suit case, which he deposits CHICK De boat jes’ git in. LUCY BELLE It did—? CHICK Mighty good ter see yo’ agin. LUCY BELLE (with a coy toss of her head) Go ’long! CHICK On mah way ter de Gran’ Imperial. LUCY BELLE (trying to place the name) Gran’ Imperial—! CHICK Colored hotel ovah yere on M Street. LUCY BELLE Oh—de one Jim Mumbly keep! CHICK (nodding) Yas. LUCY BELLE Uster be de Johnson House. CHICK (with a laugh) Yas, yas. Change its name ev’y monf. LUCY BELLE Is yo’ stoppin’ dere, now? CHICK Jes’ now an’ den. Git tired gwine ’way out ter mah broder’s in G’orgetown ev’y time I’se in LUCY BELLE No, indeedy! CHICK Ef dey is, I’ll sen’ a boy ovah fo’ it—ef dey ain’, I’ll drap back an’ git it an’ go on out ter G’orgetown,—’less yo’ wan’ ter put me up yere. LUCY BELLE W’at yo’ talkin’ ’bout? CHICK (sitting on the edge of the table) Jes’ met ole man Pocher gwine down de line. LUCY BELLE Yo’ did—! CHICK Say he jes’ give up his room. LUCY BELLE (removing her jacket and throwing it over the back of a chair) I reckon he tol’ yo’ de truf. CHICK W’at’s de mattah? LUCY BELLE Boys in de alley keep aftah him all de time. Pesters him ter deaf. Puts salt on de do’step an’ ev’ythin’ like dat. CHICK Go ’long! LUCY BELLE Done ev’ythin’ dey could ter git his goat. CHICK Hard bunch, ain’ dey? LUCY BELLE ’Deed dey is—an’ I ain’ had no time ter lay fo’ ’em. CHICK Mighty sorry yo’ havin’ dis trouble. Ef dey’s any way I kin he’p yo’ clean up fo’ ’em, lemme know. LUCY BELLE Ain’ nuffin’ yo’ kin do. I oughter put de po-lice on ’em—but, yo’ knows, dat gwine ter make all kin’-a trouble fo’ me. (He nods.) Dere people ’ud blackguard me—an’ raise hell. CHICK Why don’ yo’ move? LUCY BELLE (shaking her head) Kain’t right now. CHICK Gwine ter keep on rentin’ it? LUCY BELLE W’at—? CHICK De room. LUCY BELLE Sho’—! CHICK Got anabody fo’ it? LUCY BELLE (irritated by the assumption she should act so quickly) W’at yo’ spec’? He only jes’ give it up. CHICK Lemme have it. LUCY BELLE (measuring him with a withering glare) Fo’ Gawd sakes—! Listen ter yo’—! CHICK Go ahaid! LUCY BELLE Is yo’ crazy—? CHICK I only be in it free days a week—an’ I’ll pay yo’ twict as much as Pocher. LUCY BELLE Don’ care ef yo’ pays me five times as much. CHICK W’at’s de mattah wid yo’? I ain’ got smallpox or nuffin’ like dat— LUCY BELLE Yo’ knows I ain’ gwine ter let yo’ have dat room. CHICK Don’ like mah looks—huh? LUCY BELLE (With a laugh) Sho’—dat’s it. Waitin’ fo’ a bettah lookin’ man ter come ’long. CHICK (with an explosive laugh) Nevah did have no luck wid de ladies. LUCY BELLE (in the same spirit) Ain’ gwine ter till yo’ git anoder face. (Chick nods and chuckles.) CHICK (at length, seriously) Luce—listen ter me— LUCY BELLE Chick Avery, lay off wid dat nonsense— CHICK I gits so lonesome— LUCY BELLE (shaking her head and scowling) Nuffin’ doin’. CHICK Jes’ till I fin’s a room ’roun’ dis neighborhood dat suit me. LUCY BELLE (with mock ferocity) Yo’ wan’ me ter bus’ yo’ in de eye? CHICK Ain’ I yo’ frien’—? LUCY BELLE (nodding) Sho’ yo’ is! An’ I wan’s yo’ ter stay mah frien’. (Chick grins and shakes his head, as though he regarded her as an extremely difficult person to understand.) CHICK (breaking into song) “Yo’ kin break mah bones, LUCY BELLE Yo’ oughter be singin’ fo’ a livin’—’stead-a barbarin’. CHICK Dat’s w’at ev’body tell me. (They both laugh explosively. Lucy Belle sits down.) CHICK (at length) Enjoyed yo’se’f at dat dance at de Mawnin’ Star, did’n’ yo’? LUCY BELLE Sho’ did—! CHICK Glad yo’ wen’, now, ain’ yo’? LUCY BELLE I reckon so. CHICK Yo’ knows so! LUCY BELLE Anaway yo’ says. CHICK Had ter beg yo’ long nuff ter git yo’ ter go. LUCY BELLE I was’n’ feelin’ so good jes’ den. CHICK ’Noder dance up dere Saturday night. LUCY BELLE Yo’ don’ say— CHICK Big or-kestra an’ plenty ter drink. LUCY BELLE Yo’ gwine—? CHICK Sho’! Wan’ ter go? LUCY BELLE Kain’t. CHICK (impatiently) Sho’ yo’ kin. (She shakes her head.) W’at’s de mattah wid yo’? LUCY BELLE Not dis time. CHICK Why not? Is yo’ sick? LUCY BELLE I ain’ feelin’ jes’ right. CHICK Dat’s wa’t yo’ needs—ter git out an’ have a good time. LUCY BELLE I know— CHICK Yo’ wan’ ter quit wukkin’ so steady. LUCY BELLE Tell me somefin’ I don’ know. CHICK Why don’ yo’—? LUCY BELLE Why don’ I quit breafin’? CHICK Yo’ look ten yeahs younger at dat las’ dance. LUCY BELLE (with a deprecating laugh) Wish I thought so. CHICK I’m tellin’ yo’ so! LUCY BELLE Did’n’ feel no ten yeahs younger w’en I gits out on dat flo’. CHICK ’Noder one up dere free weeks from nex’ Saturday. LUCY BELLE Dat so? CHICK Come on an’ go ter dat. LUCY BELLE (rising) Kain’t, Chick. CHICK (sliding off the table) Gwine ter stick home yere—all de time? LUCY BELLE Right now, I is. CHICK Luce—is yo’ sore at me? LUCY BELLE No—no, indeedy, Chick. CHICK Den w’at’s de mattah? LUCY BELLE Nuffin’—nuffin’ at all. Only I jes’ don’ wan’ ter go nowhars—fo’ a while. CHICK An’ yo’ don’ wan’ me ter show yo’ a good time? (She shakes her head.) Or he’p yo’ out a lil’—? LUCY BELLE Don’ wan’ nobody ter he’p me out! (Chick springs over to her side and takes her forcibly in his arms.) LUCY BELLE Chick! Stop! Oh, mah Gawd—! Yo’—! CHICK Yo’ mine—mine—! LUCY BELLE (struggling frantically to free herself) Lemme go, Chick—! Chick! Stop—! CHICK Mah lil’ budigee—! Yas, yo’ is! Ain’ yo’ mine! Damn yo’, say yo’s mine! LUCY BELLE Lemme go! Yo’ wan’ me ter yell, “Po-lice!” CHICK (savagely) Yo’ ain’ gwine ter yell nuffin’! (His arms LUCY BELLE (turning her head away and protesting between gasps) Chick! Yo’ killin’ me—! CHICK Kiss me—lovah! Yo’ yere—! Kiss me! LUCY BELLE Oh, Gawd—! Chick, don’—! (He contrives to implant a prolonged kiss on her lips. At length, with a superhuman effort, she wrenches herself free, and retreats to the opposite side of the table. Chick starts to follow her, whereupon she runs around to the back of the table, where she stands, breathing heavily and weak from the struggle. Chick stands facing her—on the opposite side of the table and with back to the audience—his muscles taut, as though ready to lunge after her.) LUCY BELLE (stretching out her arms beseechingly) Don’, Chick—oh, don’—! Don’ come at me like dat! CHICK Luce—listen ter me—! LUCY BELLE Chick—! Please—! Sam—mah own Sam-boy—he’s mah lovah. He’s de onlies’ one—now! CHICK He ain’ nevah comin’ back ter yo’! LUCY BELLE Yas, he is! De minute he git out! Yo’ don’ know Sam like I does. I got ter stick ter him—no (He gives a little, hollow laugh, reaches in his pocket, brings out a package of Sweet Corporals, puts one in his mouth and lights it. Lucy Belle runs a hand over her hair, which is all dishevelled, then glances down at her waist.) LUCY BELLE Don’ make a wreck ob me. (She moves hesitatingly to the door, Left, and pauses for a moment when she reaches there. He watches her with a narrow, tense gaze.) LUCY BELLE ’Scuse me a minute. (She goes out, Left. Chick leans back against the table and smokes in sullen, contemplative silence. Presently a knock sounds on the door, Back. Chick turns his head and listens. The knock sounds again. He goes nonchalantly to the door and opens it. Aunt Rebecca stands in the doorway.) AUNT REBECCA (exclaiming) Gawd-a-massy! Chick Avery, how is yo’? CHICK Fine and dandy. (She steps into the room. Chick closes the door.) AUNT REBECCA Still on de Norfolk boat? CHICK Yas, indeedy. AUNT REBECCA Makin’ good money? CHICK Would’n’ be dere ef I was’n’. AUNT REBECCA Whar’s Lucy Belle? CHICK In dere. (He inclines his head toward the room, off Left.) AUNT REBECCA Drap in ter say howdy. (Chick, who has stood with his hand on the knob, opens the door again.) Yo’ ain’ gwine—? CHICK On mah way. See yo’ some mo’. AUNT REBECCA (shortly) Goodbye. (He goes out, closing the door after him.) AUNT REBECCA (somewhat peeved by the abruptness of his departure) Humph! No-count, like all de res’ dem yallow niggahs (Calling.) Lucy Belle—oh, Lucy Belle! LUCY BELLE (off stage, Left) Dat yo’, Aun’ Becky—? AUNT REBECCA Sho’ is, honey! LUCY BELLE Come on in yere. (Aunt Rebecca goes out, Left. A moment or two later the door, Back, opens a foot or two and Slim sticks his head in and looks about. Seeing no one, he enters stealthily and closes the door slowly and with extreme care. He moves cautiously to the chair, Left Center, on which Lucy Belle’s coat lies. He picks up the coat—or jacket—and goes rapidly through the pockets in search of her pocket book. Unable to find it in them, he drops the coat and stands in tense thought. His eyes wander over to the cupboard, Left. With quick, cat-like movements he goes to it, opens one of the top doors, removes the lid from a crockery jar, peers into it, sees nothing, removes the lid from the next one, peers into it, discovers the pocket book, reaches in and takes it out. He quickly extracts the four one-dollar bills, counts them and stuffs them in his pocket. He then drops the pocket book back in the jar, replaces the lid, and closes the door of the cupboard. He slips quickly across to the door, Back, opens it and goes out. In his hurry to get out he gives the door a little bang as he shuts it. A moment later Lucy Belle enters, Left, with a startled, inquiring look and glances about.) AUNT REBECCA (off stage, Left) W’at’s de mattah? LUCY BELLE Thought I yered somebody come in. (Aunt Rebecca enters, Left.) AUNT REBECCA (glancing about) Jes’ now? LUCY BELLE Yas. AUNT REBECCA Go ’long! LUCY BELLE Reckon I mus’ been dreamin’. AUNT REBECCA W’at yo’ yere? LUCY BELLE Soun’ like de do’ shettin’. AUNT REBECCA Sho’ don’ see nobody. LUCY BELLE (glancing at the clock on the cupboard. The hands point to half-past one) Um! Got ter hussle. AUNT REBECCA Wukkin’ dis afternoon? LUCY BELLE (nodding) Lot-a ironin’ ter do. Got ter git some dinnah fust, dough. AUNT REBECCA (in surprise) Ain’ yo’ had yo’ dinnah? LUCY BELLE No. AUNT REBECCA Gawd-a-massy! LUCY BELLE Waste a lot-a time chewin’ de rag wid Chick. AUNT REBECCA Go ahaid! Don’ lemme stop yo’. LUCY BELLE (with a sigh, as she picks up her jacket) Gawd—! (Draws a hand across her forehead.) AUNT REBECCA Honey, w’at’s de mattah—? LUCY BELLE Oh—nuffin’— AUNT REBECCA Yo’ did’n’ look right ter me w’en I fus’ look at yo’—in dere jes’ now. LUCY BELLE I’se a lil’ tired—dat’s all, I reckon. AUNT REBECCA (stepping over and observing Lucy Belle closely) Why, honey, yo’ all nervous an’ trembly—! LUCY BELLE No, I ain’, Aun’ Becky— AUNT REBECCA Yo’ is! Now, listen ter me—don’ yo’ go ter wuk dis aftahnoon. LUCY BELLE Got ter! AUNT REBECCA No yo’ ain’! W’at yo’ talkin’ ’bout? LUCY BELLE Put Moy in a hole ef I don’. AUNT REBECCA Don’ make no diff’rence. LUCY BELLE ’Spose ter deliver mos’-a dem clothes termorrer. AUNT REBECCA Yo’ good healf come fust. LUCY BELLE Liable ter git sore an’ git somebody else ef I don’ show up. AUNT REBECCA (with a snort) W’at d’yo’ care? Let him! Dat ole Chink ain’ got de onlies’ job in de worl’. LUCY BELLE (shakes her head) Ain’ got no time ter go ’roun’ lookin’ fo’ somefin’ else right now. AUNT REBECCA (impatiently) Yo’ nevah take no ’vice. LUCY BELLE Yas, I does, Aun’ Becky, but— AUNT REBECCA Yo’ don’—! Yo’ be in bed ef yo’ ain’ careful. LUCY BELLE (in conciliatory tones) ’Deed, I got ter git back dere dis aftahnoon. AUNT REBECCA (shuffling grumpily toward door, Back) Go ahaid, den. Git yo’se’f some dinnah fo’ yo’ do, dough. LUCY BELLE I’se sho’ gwine ter! Reckon I feel bettah aftah I gits a lil’ somefin’ ter eat. (Following Aunt Rebecca to the door.) Come ovah dis evenin! AUNT REBECCA I don’ know— LUCY BELLE Oh, please, Aun’ Becky. AUNT REBECCA (at the door) W’at time? LUCY BELLE Oh—oh, ’bout eight o’clock. AUNT REBECCA (nodding) See yo’ some mo’. LUCY BELLE See yo’ some mo’. (Aunt Rebecca goes out, Back. Lucy Belle puts on her jacket. She goes to the cupboard, Left, opens the top door, removes the lid from the crockery jar, reaches in and gets her pocket book. Something about its flatness rouses her curiosity. She casually opens it. A look of tragic dismay comes over her face as she discovers that the money is missing.) LUCY BELLE Oh, Gawd! (She fumbles about in the jar again, then searches through her pockets. It suddenly comes over her that she has been robbed. She stands staring dumbly before her with an expression of anguish and despair. Israel and Fanny run in, Back.) ISRAEL Mamma! I’se hangry! FANNY W’en we gwine ter have dinnah? LUCY BELLE (with a sob) Hush up! FANNY Yo’ said yo’d have it right ’way. ISRAEL Mamma—ain’ yo’ gwine ter hurry? LUCY BELLE (in a choking voice) Yas, yas—Mamma’s gwine right out— (She is suddenly seized with a spell of dizziness. She sways unsteadily for a moment or two, finally collapses and sinks heavily down on a chair. The children scream and run to her side. She places one hand against the table, grips the back of the chair with the other and manages to hold herself up.) LUCY BELLE (in weak, disjointed tones) Israel, son—hush! Yo’ yere me—? Mamma’s gwine ter be all right. Fanny! Git me glass-a watah. (The girl hesitates.) Go on! Quick! (Fanny runs off, Left.) ISRAEL (crying) Mamma! Yo’—yo’ gwine ter die? LUCY BELLE No, no! Hush up! (He clings to her sobbingly. Fanny enters, Left, with the glass of water and hurries to her mother’s side.) LUCY BELLE (to Israel) Son! Mamma gwine ter beat yo’ ef yo’ don’ stop! FANNY Yere, Mamma! (The child hands Lucy Belle the glass of water. She drinks it slowly.) LUCY BELLE (half to herself) Gawd, dat tas’ good. (She gradually revives. At length, as she sets the glass on the table.) Listen FANNY Yassum. LUCY BELLE Beat it now! (They go out, Back, closing the door after them. Lucy Belle, weak and completely unnerved, sits staring tragically before her. At length a knock sounds on the door, Back.) LUCY BELLE (half turning and speaking in still feeble tones) Come in! (The door opens and Chick Avery enters. Lucy Belle struggles to her feet.) CHICK Back agin—! LUCY BELLE Oh—er—! Did’n’ take yo’ long—. CHICK No rooms at de Gran’ Imperial. Gwine on out ter mah broder’s. (He directs a fascinated gaze at her for a brief interval, as though half-tempted to make another ardent and forcible appeal. He thinks better of it, however, and starts to reach for the suit case.) LUCY BELLE (in tremulous, half-hysterical tones) Chick—! CHICK (straightening up) Yas—? LUCY BELLE Reckon yo’ kin have dat room. CHICK (incredulously) W’at—? LUCY BELLE I—I’ll rent it ter yo’. CHICK (as though he could hardly believe his ears) Luce—! (She half turns away from him and gazes before her with a face full of woe.) CURTAIN |
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