  Scene: Gilchrist's Room—"Upstairs." The room is cheerful. That is its chief aspect. Cheerful, and comfortable, and homelike. Such a room ... in the rear of the fourth story ... might be had anywhere for seven dollars a week, and its contents duplicated for a couple of hundred, yet no one should be able to look in without envying the occupant. Before the warm glow of a fireplace down R. is a big, brown leather-covered armchair. An electric lamp stands on a table stage left of the chair and squarely opposite the fireplace. There are books on the table, too, and writing things, and another chair on its left. Above the grate a picture of Christ in the Temple. Conspicuous in the flat, and visible from all parts of the house, a big studio window. There are cream-colored outside curtains, and brown denim inside curtains, drawn now, but when they are pulled aside, one sees chimney-pots, and roof-tops, and a blue night-sky, with one particularly bright star. Up L., a curtained arch into a hall bedroom, and down L. a door. The walls, covered with old-gold grass-cloth, are hidden, to a height of six feet, by roughly-built bookcases, filled with much-used books. A sofa, against the wall At Rise: It is just after eight o'clock, Christmas Eve, 1920. Daniel is discovered, dreaming, in the armchair R., a pipe in his mouth and his face to the fire. He has not lighted the desk lamp, and, except for the glow of the embers, the room is in darkness. Hanging over the left arm of the chair, Daniel's hand holds a magazine, but he has not begun reading. After a pause long enough for the audience to take in his surroundings, there is a light tap at the door and, without waiting for a response, Mary Margaret enters. She walks without crutches—quite briskly—but plainly is on some secret business. Daniel is lost in the darkness. A package in her hand, Mary Margaret crosses quickly to the table, and turns on one and then the other of the two lights in the lamp. Instantly, of course, she sees the figure in the chair, and conceals the package beneath her apron. Mary Margaret Mr. Gilchrist? [He shows himself] Goo'ness, how you scared me! I thought you went out! Daniel No; I just slipped up here to read a while before we put our gifts on the tree.... Where's Grubby? Mary Margaret [Contemptuously]: Grubby! Daniel He promised to help with the packages. Mary Margaret Grubby's all swelled up with his new taxicab. Christmas Eve's the big night in his business, but he says don't worry ... he'll be here in time for the sandwiches. Am I interruptin' your readin'? Daniel Oh, no! What have you there? Mary Margaret Where? Daniel Under your apron. Mary Margaret Oh! [She reveals the parcel] I was gonna surprise you. It's your Christmas present. Daniel From you? Mary Margaret [Handing it across the table]: Yes. It ain't much ... you know ... an' I didn't want it on the tree Daniel Mary Margaret! Mary Margaret The name's on the back! [He turns it around, revealing to the audience a cheap and highly-colored chromo] See ... "Mama's Treasure." Daniel It's just what I wanted. Mary Margaret [Delighted]: Is it ... honest?... Let's put it in place of that one over the mantel-piece! That's an awful pretty pitcher, but mine's got colors in it! Daniel Why not in place of the Venus who fell on her nose? Mary Margaret Oh, yes! [She stands "Mama's Treasure" atop a bookcase L.] It looks good, don't it? Daniel Beautiful. I can't thank you enough. [Takes her hand] I can't really. Mary Margaret You can't thank me! You that's give me—[She looks down at her legs, and up again with eyes full of tears] Oh, Mr. Gilchrist! Daniel Now! Now! Now! We mustn't cry on Christmas! Mary Margaret What're you going to do if you're happy? Daniel Try laughing. [She does] Anyway, if I'm having my Christmas now, you must have yours. Suppose you rummage on the sofa. Mary Margaret Oh! [She runs to obey, and holds up a parcel inquiringly.] Daniel That's a book for Miss Levinson. Mary Margaret [Reads from another bundle]: Mrs. Henchley. [Takes up a third] This one ain't marked. Daniel Gloves for Mack. I wanted to show I appreciated his bringing back that coat. Mary Margaret [Reading from two packages]: Peter ... Paul.... Daniel For your brothers. Mary Margaret [With a fourth]: And ... Mary Margaret! Daniel Open it now. Mary Margaret [Breathless, she comes to him C. Hesitates, and then, removing the wrapping, reveals a child's set in beaver—muff and neckpiece]: Oh, Mr. Gilchrist! [She tries them] Oh, Mr. Gilchrist; you oughtn't! [Looks about for a mirror] They're beautiful! They're the most beautifulest furs I ever seen! I've wanted a set like this always! You've made me so happy! I never was so happy before in my life! [And she begins to cry again.] Daniel Now! [She remembers, and laughs.] Mary Margaret I don't know how to thank you. Daniel Don't try. Mary Margaret I never expected no such a Christmas! [Starts for door] I gotta show mother! Daniel [Turning R.]: Take down a few of the packages! Mary Margaret I'll be back in a minute! [She opens the door, disclosing Goodkind. Seriously alarmed] Oh!... Mr. Gilchrist! Daniel [Turning L.]: Well ... Mr. Goodkind! Goodkind May I come in? Daniel Of course! [He enters. Dan indicates chair L. of table R.] Sit down! Goodkind I've only a moment. Jerry's waiting for me in the car. Daniel How is Jerry? [Mary Margaret arranges the chair.] Goodkind [Shakes his head despairingly. Looks at Mary Margaret]: I wish you could perform a miracle on him. Daniel I wish I could. Goodkind [To Mary Margaret]: You seem to walk all right. Mary Margaret Oh, yes! Goodkind [To Dan]: Had a doctor look her over? Daniel Three of 'em. Goodkind Any opinion? Daniel Three opinions. Mary Margaret They said he didn't do it, and you seen him! Daniel [Holds up a warning finger]: Ssh! [Then to Goodkind] They all say she suffered from hysterical paraplegia. [Goodkind puzzled] Hysterical paralysis. One says she was cured by shock—you know; the riot. Another says it was suggestion ... believing ... which is another way of saying faith, isn't it? The important thing is that she's cured! Mary Margaret God did it—God and Mr. Gilchrist! Daniel [Hushing her again]: Take down an armful of those packages ... like a good girl! Mary Margaret I will. [She gathers them up, and, returning L. C., looks apprehensively at Goodkind] You call ... if you want me! [Exits] Goodkind [Hesitates. Doesn't know how to begin. Takes cigars from his pocket]: Smoke? Daniel Thanks. [Showing his pipe] I'll stick to my old friend. [He sits.] Goodkind How are things with you? Daniel [Enthusiastically]: Fine! Goodkind Happy? Daniel [Radiantly]: Yes!... And you? Goodkind No. Everything's ... all wrong. My boy's very ill. Clare's wonderful to him. I can't explain it—she's like a different woman. And she seems happy. But Jerry's had to give up work, and there's more trouble in Black River, and that's what brought me! Daniel You don't want my advice? Goodkind I want you ... as general manager. These strikes are such utter damned waste! We had a working compromise on your agreement, and everything was all right, but we began figuring we could make more money ... and the men walked out, and flooded the mines. I'd like you to take charge, Daniel. Daniel I can't. Goodkind Name your own salary. Daniel My work is here. Goodkind You can have anything you want. Daniel I don't want anything. Goodkind You want to see the men get their rights. Daniel They'll get 'em. Nothing can stop that. Goodkind You're not going to turn down fifty thousand dollars a year? Daniel What can I buy with it that I haven't got? Goodkind What can you buy with fifty—— Daniel What have you bought? Goodkind I've got one of the finest houses in New York! Daniel Is it any more comfortable than this? Goodkind This one little room! Daniel How many rooms do you live in at the same time? Goodkind I've got half a dozen cars! Daniel I've two legs, and I walk, and keep well. Goodkind I've twenty servants—— Daniel Don't tell me you enjoy that! Goodkind And the respect of people about me—— Daniel So have I! Goodkind And, what's most important of all, I'm a success! Daniel Are you? Goodkind Huh? Daniel Are you? What is success? Money? Yes; that's what our civilization tells us. Money! But where has that brought us? Only to the elevation of the unfit ... the merely shrewd and predatory. All around us we see men of wealth who have nothing else ... neither health nor happiness nor love nor respect. Men who can get no joy out of books, or pictures, or music, or even themselves. Tired, worried men who are afraid to quit because they have no resource except to make money—money with which to buy vulgar excitement for their own debased souls. Why, Mr. Goodkind, I have an income that you wouldn't suggest to your bookkeeper, but I have peace, and health, and friends, and time to read, and think, and dream, and help. Which of us is the rich man? Goodkind But if everybody lived your way, what would become of the world's work? Daniel Living that way is my contribution to the world's work. Another man's might be selling shoes, or writing plays, or digging ditches. Doing his job doesn't prevent any man from doing his bit. "From every man according to his ability, to every man according to his needs." And every man who gives his best must find his happiness. Goodkind I'm afraid there wouldn't be much progress ... living your way. Daniel That's the second time you've spoken of my way. It isn't my way. It's the sum total of all that has been learned and taught. You, and Jerry, and the others have called me eccentric, and a fool, because I'm trying to walk a path trod hard by countless feet. Was Christ eccentric? Was Confucius a fool? And how about Buddha and Mohammed? What of St. Bernard, and St. Teresa, and St. Francis of Assisi—of Plato, and Zeno, and Lincoln, and Emerson, and Florence Nightingale, and Father Damien, and Octavia Hill, and all the saints and scientists, and poets and philosophers, who have lived and died in complete forgetfulness of self? Were they fools, or were they wise men and women who had found the way to peace and happiness? Were they failures, or were they the great successes of all Time and all Eternity? Goodkind God knows! [Jerry enters ... a dying man. He drags his legs with difficulty, and his speech is thick, but he is still cynical and defiant.] Jerry Well, you've been the devil of a time! I came up to see what was keeping you! Goodkind [Rising]: Mr. Gilchrist. Jerry Hello, Gilchrist! Daniel [Crossing to C.]: How are you, Jerry? Jerry Not so damned well! But I'll be all right in the Spring! Clare's looking after me. Clare's a good sport. What I need now's a run down to Palm Beach! [Looks around] So you're reduced to this, are you? Daniel Yes. Jerry Going to take my job? Daniel No. Jerry Why not? Daniel Your father understands. Jerry Yes ... so do I! Didn't I always say you were a nut? That's it; a nut! [He laughs with a laugh that begins to get the better of him.] Goodkind [Crossing rapidly to the door]: Come, Jerry! [A light rap; Goodkind opens. Enter Mary Margaret. She glances at him and crosses to upper L. C. Jerry looks at her, and turns back to Dan.] Jerry Who's the girl? Daniel Your father's waiting. Jerry A' right!... [Crosses L.] Some failure you've made out of life! [Turns back and leers at Mary Margaret. In the doorway, looks at Dan.] Wheels ... by God! Wheels! [He laughs, and exits.] Goodkind [Goes to Dan and takes his hand]: I wonder if you're the failure, after all. [Returns to the door.] Good-night! [He exits.] [Dan takes his pipe from his pocket and puts it in his mouth. Some chimes, in the distance, begin the Mary Margaret Mr. Gilchrist! Is that the Star of Bethlehem? Daniel I wonder. [The chimes swell out, and the curtain falls Transcriber's Notes |
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