# Craig's Wife (1926)/Act 1

Layout 2
CRAIG’S WIFE
ACT I
The entire action of the play transpires between five-thirty in the evening and nine o’clock the following morning, in the living room in the home of Mr. Walter Craig. This room, like all the other rooms in the house, reflects the very excellent taste and fanatical orderliness of its mistress. It is a kind of frozen grandeur, in dark, highly polished wood—strewn with gorgeous, gold-colored rugs and draped in rich brocaded satins. The piano scarf and the scarf on the oblong center table are canary-colored, and the draperies on the bay window at the left, and on the curving window on the stair landing at the back, are dark green. This curving window has a beautiful built-in window seat, with lovely cushions, and there is another built-in seat at the right of the staircase, from which the balustrade curves upwards. On the right, at the back, there is a wide door hung with brown velvet portières; and the rest of the room at the right is taken up with an ornamental mantelpiece, fancy mirror and fireplace. In front of this fireplace there is a beautiful high-backed chair. There is another big chair at the left of the center table, a small fancy chair beside the piano, and a chair at either side of the room, forward. There are two fancy benches, one immediately above the center table, and one in front of the center table. There is sufficient room between the table and this forward bench to permit of the business of passing between them. Up at the left there is a glass vestibule, one ​door of which opens into the room and the other out on to the front porch. As Mrs. Craig enters, she appears to have been dressed for this particular room. She wears an extremely fashionable fawn-colored ensemble suit, brown slippers and stockings, and a small, dark brown velvet toque. She carries a brown leather pocket-book and a brown silk umbrella.
Miss Austen hurries down the stairs and out through the portières at the right. Mrs. Harold comes in through the door up at the left, carrying the evening newspaper and some tabourette doilies, and moves down towards the center table.
Mrs. Harold (stopping halfway to the table and peering out after Miss Austen)
    Is there something you wanted, Miss Austen?
Miss Austen
    No, thanks, dear, I’m just looking for that pattern that I sent for the other day: I wanted to show it to Mrs. Frazier.
Mrs. Harold
    Lift up the lid of that worktable there, Miss Austen; I think I saw a pattern of some kind in there this morning.
    [Continuing to the table and putting down the newspaper and doilies.
Miss Austen
    Yes, here it is, I have it. (There is a sound from the right) I knew I left it right here somewhere.
    [She hurries in through the portières and up the stairs.
Mrs. Harold (moving up to the door at the left)
    I gave those roses she brought to Mazie to put in some water.
​Miss Austen
    Oh, did you—thanks ever so much.
Mrs. Harold
    She’s gettin’ a vase for them.
Miss Austen
    They’re lovely, aren’t they?
Mrs. Harold
    Yes, they’re handsome.
    [She goes out on to the porch again, and Mazie comes in through the portières, carrying a vase of pink roses, which she puts on the upper corner of the small grand piano at the left.
Mazie (calling out through the French windows to Mrs. Harold)
    Did the paper come yet, Mrs. Harold?
Mrs. Harold
    Yes, I just brought it in,—it’s there on the table.
    [Mazie turns and comes back to the table, picks up the paper, and strolls forward, holding it up as though to allow the light from a window at the right to fall upon it.
Mazie
    More rain again to-morrow.
Mrs. Harold (answering her from the front porch)
    Does it say so?
Mazie
    Unsettled to-night and Friday—probably thunder showers. Slightly cooler, with moderate winds,
Mrs. Harold (coming in)
    I don’t know where all the rain is comin’ from.
Mazie
    It isn’t very nice weather for Mrs. Craig, is it?
Mrs. Harold (moving forward to the piano)
    You can’t tell; it might not be rainin’ in Albany. Aren’t these roses beautiful?
Mazie
    Yes, they’re lovely.
    [Mrs. Harold smells the roses.
Mrs. Harold (crossing to the foot of the stairs)
    I heard her telling Miss Austen she’s got over two hundred rose bushes in her garden.
Mazie (turning and looking at Mrs. Harold)
    Is she still upstairs?
Mrs. Harold
    Yeh. I guess she’s talkin’ poor Miss Austen to death. (Mazie laughs and resumes her paper, and Mrs. Harold gives an eye around the room) Bring that paper out with you when you’re comin’, Mazie; don’t leave it layin’ around in here.
Mazie
    All right.
Mrs. Harold (moving up to the door at the left and looking out)
    It’ud be just like the lady to walk in on us.
    [Mazie turns sharply and looks at her.
Mazie
    Mrs. Craig, do you mean?
Mrs. Harold
    She might, you can’t tell.
Mazie
    I thought you said she wouldn’t be back before Saturday.
Mrs. Harold (coming back to the table and picking up the doilies)
    That’s what she told me when she was goin’ away. ​But it’s just as well to keep a day or two ahead of a woman like Mrs. Craig, Mazie (she flicks the dust from the table with the doilies); if she gets an idea up there that there’s a pin out of place around here,—she’ll take the first train out of Albany. (Mazie makes a sound of amusement and resumes her paper and Mrs. Harold starts for the door at the right) Oh, there’s plenty like her—I’ve worked for three of them; you’d think their houses were God Almighty.
    [She goes into the other room.
Mazie
    Didn’t you tell me, Mrs. Harold, that you worked out on Willows Avenue one time?
Mrs. Harold (calling from the other room)
    Yes, I worked out there for two years, at Doctor Nicholson’s.
Mazie
    Did you know any people out that way by the name of Passmore?
Mrs. Harold (appearing between the portières)
    By the name of what?
Mazie
    Passmore. Capital P-a-double s-m-o-r-e. Mr. J. Fergus Passmore and wife.
Mrs. Harold (coming forward at the right)
    No, I don’t remember anybody by that name; why?
Mazie
    Nothing.—It says here they were both found dead this morning in their home on Willows Avenue.
Mrs. Harold
    Oh, Lord have mercy on them! What happened to them?
​Mazie (reading)
    Why, it sez: “Fashionable Willows Avenue Residence Scene of Double Tragedy—Bodies of J. Fergus Passmore and Wife, Socially Prominent in This City, Found Dead in Library from Bullet Wounds—Empty Revolver Near Fireplace—Cause of Death Shrouded in Mystery—Police Working upon Identity of Gentleman Visitor Seen Leaving Premises in Automobile Shortly After Midnight.” (Mazie looks fearfully at Mrs. Harold, who shakes her head dolefully) “About eight o’clock this morning upon entering the library in the home of Mr. J. Fergus Passmore of 2214 Willows Avenue, Miss Selma Coates, a colored maid—”
Mrs. Harold
    Twenty-two fourteen must be out near the lake. (The front doorbell rings incisively) See who that is, Mazie.
    [Mrs. Harold disappears into the other room and Mazie crosses up to the door at the left, putting down the newspaper on the table as she passes.
Mrs. Craig (out on the porch)
    We can leave these right here, Ethel,—Mazie’ll bring them in.
Mazie
    Oh, how do you do, Mrs. Craig.
Mrs. Craig
    Hello, Mazie.
Mazie (going out)
    You’re back a little ahead of time.
    [Mrs. Harold comes in through the portières, peering out toward the front porch.
Mrs. Craig
    Yes, a little. Will you take these things, Mazie?
​Mazie
    Yes, Ma’m.
    [Mrs. Harold sees that it is Mrs. Craig, gives a quick glance around the room, snatches up the paper from the table, and, with another glance over her right shoulder toward the front door, vanishes into the other room.
Mrs. Craig
    And will you see that that catch is on that screen door, Mazie—
Mazie
    Yes, Ma’m.
Mrs. Craig (appearing in the door)
    It was half open when I came in. (She comes into the room, sweeping it with a narrow eye, and crosses to the table to put down her handbag and umbrella. Ethel wanders in after her and stands at the upper corner of the piano. The screen door closes outside) Take your things off, dear, and sit down; you look tired. (She moves across to the mirror over the mantelpiece at the right, and Ethel puts her handbag on the piano and commences to remove her coat and hat) I think there’s nothing in the world so exhausting as train riding. (Mazie comes in, carrying a lady’s satchel and a suitcase. Mrs. Craig turns) You may as well take those things right upstairs, Mazie.
Mazie
    Yes, Ma’m.
Mrs. Craig (crossing up and over to Ethel)
    Put that suitcase in the corner room, Mazie—Miss Landreth’ll occupy that room for the next few days.
Mazie (going up the stairs)
    Yes, Ma’m.
​Mrs. Craig (taking Ethel’s hat and coat)
    I’ll take them, dear.
Ethel
    Thanks.
Mrs. Craig
    I’ll have Mazie take them right up to your room.
    [She puts them down on the table carefully and Ethel crosses down towards the mirror, settling her hair.
Ethel
    I suppose I look terrible, don’t I?
Mrs. Craig (crossing and taking Ethel’s bag from the piano)
    No, dear, you look quite all right. Would you like a drink of something?
Ethel
    I would like a drink of water, yes, if you don’t mind.
    [Mrs. Harold appears between the portières.
Mrs. Craig
    Hello, Mrs. Harold
Mrs. Harold
    I see you’re back again.
Mrs. Craig
    This is Mrs. Harold, Ethel.
Ethel
    How do you do.
    [Mrs. Herold bows and Ethel moves back again to the roses on the piano.
Mrs. Craig
    Miss Landreth will be staying here with us for a week or two, Mrs. Harold, so I wish you’d see that everything is all right in that corner room.
​Mrs. Harold
    All right, I will.
    [Mazie comes down the stairs.
Mrs. Craig (moving down to the mirror, removing her coat)
    And will you bring a glass of water, please, Mrs. Harold.
Mrs. Harold
    Yes, Ma’m. Just one glass?
Mrs. Craig
    Yes, I don’t want any.
    [Mrs. Harold goes out again.
Ethel
    Aren’t these roses beautiful. (Mrs. Craig shifts her eyes from Mazie, who is gathering Ethel’s things up from the table, and looks steadily at the roses) I don’t think I’ve ever seen such lovely roses.
Mrs. Craig
    Yes, they’re very nice. Take those things upstairs, Mazie.
Mazie (starting up the stairs)
    Yes, Ma’m.
Mrs. Craig
    And I wish you’d use that back way when you go up and down stairs, Mazie.
Mazie (coming down again)
    I always keep forgettin’ that.
    [Ethel turns and looks at Mazie, and Mrs. Craig, laying her coat across Mazie’s arm as she passes her, moves up to look at the stairs closely, Mazie goes out at the right.
Mrs. Craig
    This stairway’ll soon look the way it did before, with everybody tramping up and down it every five minutes, (She turns to Ethel with a kind of apologetic smile, and ​commences to remove her gloves) It doesn’t seem ever to occur to anybody in the house, Ethel, to use the back stairway. It’s the funniest thing you’ve ever seen in your life, really. We might just as well not have one. No matter how many times they have to go up or down stairs, they must go tramping up and down this front way. And you know what stairs look like after they’ve been tramped up and down a few times. (Mrs. Harold comes in with a glass of water on a small silver tray) Thanks, Mrs. Harold.
Ethel (picking up a framed photograph from the piano)
    Isn’t this Mother’s picture, Aunt Harriet?
    [Mrs. Harold goes out.
Mrs. Craig (crossing to Ethel)
    Yes, that’s your mother.
Ethel
    I thought it looked something like her.
Mrs. Craig (taking the picture)
    She had it taken at Lakewood one summer, and I always liked it. I like that dress; it never seemed to get old-fashioned.
Ethel (starting to cry)
    It doesn’t look much like her now, does it?
    [She moves forward to the chair beside the piano and sits down.
Mrs. Craig (putting the picture back on the piano)
    Now, Ethel dear, you mustn’t start that. Your mother’s been through this very same kind of thing many times before.
Ethel
    But, I should be there, Aunt Harriet. Supposing something should happen.
​Mrs. Craig
    But, nothing is going to happen, dear child. I haven’t the slightest doubt but that your mother will come through this little spell just as she’s come through all the others.
Ethel
    I don’t think the others have been as serious as this, though.
Mrs. Craig
    Listen, Ethel dear, I’ve seen your mother at least a dozen times at what I was perfectly sure was the point of death, and she’s always come around all right.
Ethel
    Well, why did Doctor Wood send for me, if he didn’t think it was serious?
Mrs. Craig
    Because your mother asked him to, I suppose, dear; just as she asked him to send for me. But he certainly couldn’t have thought it was so very serious when he suggested you come away with me.
Ethel
    It wasn’t the doctor that suggested that, Aunt Harriet, it was the night nurse,—I heard her tell him so. She said it upset Mother too much to see me, and if I were there she’d want to see me.
Mrs. Craig
    Well, that’s very true, dear; but you know how she cried when you came in. And there’s nothing in the world so upsetting to the heart as crying.
Ethel
    But, I should be there; it seems terrible to me now to have walked away and left Mother in that condition.
​Mrs. Craig
    But, what could you do if you’d stayed, dear?
Ethel (with a touch of desperation)
    I’d at least know what was going on.
Mrs. Craig (handing her the glass of water, and putting her arm around her shoulder)
    Now, don’t upset yourself, Ethel. Here, take a sip of this water. I’m perfectly sure you’re magnifying the seriousness of your mother’s condition, dear. And I most certainly should never have come away myself only that I’ve seen this same thing over and over again. (She turns and settles the photograph on the piano) Besides, there isn’t a solitary thing we could do if we’d stayed; those nurses won’t allow it. (Taking the glass from Ethel) And the doctor said I was upsetting your mother;—simply because I told her a few things I thought she should be told.
    [She crosses to the table and sets down the glass.
Ethel
    There was something I wanted to tell her, too, but he said he thought I’d better wait.
Mrs. Craig
    Well, I’d have told her anyway, if I’d been you.
Ethel
    I’m rather sorry now I didn’t,—I think it would have made her easier in her mind.
Mrs. Craig (taking her handkerchief from her bag)
    Was it something important?
Ethel
    It was about Professor Fredericks, at school. Mother met him last year when she was up there at Commencement, and she liked him very much. And when we got ​home she said if he ever said anything to me, she’d be glad if I could like him well enough to marry him. She said she’d feel easier about me, in case anything ever happened to her. And I wanted to tell her.
Mrs. Craig
    You mean he had said something?
Ethel
    Yes, he asked me to marry him right after Easter. But I didn’t write anything about it to Mother; I thought I’d wait until she’d be up there in June for my Commencement, and then I’d tell her.
Mrs. Craig
    I don’t know why your mother should be so panicky about your future, Ethel; you’re only nineteen.
Ethel
    She said she’d like to feel that I’d have somebody.
Mrs. Craig
    Why does a person need anybody, dear, if he has money enough to get along on? (She turns and crosses to the mirror to remove her hat) And, as a matter of fact, you wouldn’t be left absolutely desolate even if something did happen to your mother. You’d always have me—I’m your mother’s sister. So that, really, I think you’re a very foolish girl, Ethel, if you allow your mother’s apprehensions to rush you into marriage. Unless, of course, it were an advantageous marriage.
Ethel
    She didn’t want to rush me into it —she simply said she thought it would be better for me to be settled.
Mrs. Craig (bringing her hat back to the table, and taking a powder puff from her bag)
    Well, naturally, I can understand that, of course. ​But, after all, simply being settled isn’t everything, Ethel—a girl can be a great deal worse off being settled than when she was unsettled. And, personally, I can’t conceive of being very much worse off than married to a college professor—stuck away in some dreadful place like Poughkeepsie or Northampton—with not a ten-cent piece to bless yourself with—unless you used your own money. I’m constantly reading agitations in the newspapers about the poor pay of college professors. And your marrying one of them will hardly improve the situation. (She flips the bag back on to the table, and moves forward to a small ornamental bench in front of the center table, where she kneels) Did you accept this man when he asked you?
Ethel
    Practically, yes. We’d rather thought of being married sometime during the summer.
Mrs. Craig
    Then, you mean you’re engaged to him?
Ethel
    Yes. I knew Mother liked him, for she said so. The only thing was, she wanted me to be sure that I liked him.
Mrs. Craig
    Well, that’s all very nice, Ethel, but simply liking a man isn’t going to go very far toward keeping things going, is it?
Ethel
    Well, I have money of my own, Aunt Harriet.
Mrs. Craig
    I know that, dear child, but surely he isn’t marrying you because of that?
​Ethel
    No, of course not; he doesn’t know anything about that.
Mrs. Craig
    Well, I hope not—he surely wouldn’t expect you to use your own money to keep his house going. If a man marries a girl he certainly must expect to support her, at least.
Ethel
    Well, he does expect to support me, naturally.
Mrs. Craig
    How, dear—on a professor’s salary?
Ethel
    Why, lots of professors are married, Aunt Harriet.
Mrs. Craig
    But their wives are not living the way you’ve been accustomed to living, Ethel: not the wives of young professors, at least. And I suppose this man is young, isn’t he?
Ethel
    He’s twenty-seven.
Mrs. Craig
    Well, there you are. He’s very lucky if he’s getting two hundred dollars a month: unless he’s some very extraordinary kind of professor; and he can scarcely be that at twenty-seven years of age.
Ethel
    He’s professor of the Romance Languages.
Mrs. Craig
    Naturally. And I suppose he’s told you he loves you in all of them.
Ethel
    Well, I certainly shouldn’t care to think about marriage ​at all, Aunt Harriet, unless I were at least in love with the man.
    [Mrs. Craig gives a little smile of pained amusement, and moves towards Ethel.
Mrs. Craig
    That is your age, Ethel darling: we all pass through that. It’s the snare of romance,—that the later experience of life shows us to have been nothing more than the most impractical sentimentality. (She arranges the piano scarf more precisely) Only the majority of women are caught with the spell of it, unfortunately; and then they are obliged to revert right back to the almost primitive feminine dependence and subjection that they’ve been trying to emancipate themselves from for centuries.
    [She crosses to the big chair at the left of the center table and straightens it.
Ethel
    Well, you married, Aunt Harriet.
Mrs. Craig (leaning on the back of the chair)
    But not with any romantic illusions, dear. I saw to it that my marriage should be a way toward emancipation for me. I had no private fortune like you, Ethel; and no special equipment,—outside of a few more or less inapplicable college theories. So the only road to independence for me, that I could see, was through the man I married. I know that must sound extremely materialistic to you, after listening to the professor of romantic languages;—but it isn’t really; because it isn’t financial independence that I speak of particularly. I knew that would come—as the result of another kind of independence; and that is the independence of ​authority—over the man I married. And that doesn’t necessarily imply any dishonesty of attitude toward that man, either. I have a full appreciation of Mr. Craig—he’s a very good man; but he’s a husband—a lord and master—my master. And I married to be independent.
Ethel
    Independent of your husband too, do you mean?
Mrs. Craig
    Independent of everybody. I lived with a stepmother, Ethel, for nearly twelve years, and with your mother after she was married for over five; I know what it is to be on some one else’s floor. And I married to be on my own—in every sense of the word. I haven’t entirely achieved the condition yet—but I know it can be done.
    [She turns and glances up the stairs and out through the portières, to assure herself that no one is listening.
Ethel
    I don’t understand what you mean, exactly, Aunt Harriet.
Mrs. Craig (turning to Ethel again)
    I mean that I’m simply exacting my share of a bargain. Mr. Craig wanted a wife and a home; and he has them, And he can be perfectly sure of them, because the wife that he got happens to be one of the kind that regards her husband and home as more or less ultimate conditions. And my share of the bargain was the security and protection that those conditions imply. And I have them. But, unlike Mr. Craig, I can’t be absolutely sure of them; because I know that, to a very great extent, they are at the mercy of the mood of a man. ​(She smiles knowingly) And I suppose I’m too practical-minded to accept that as a sufficient guarantee of their permanence. So I must secure their permanence for myself.
Ethel
    How?
Mrs. Craig
    By securing into my own hands the control of the man upon which they are founded.
Ethel
    How are you ever going to do a thing like that, Aunt Harriet?
Mrs. Craig
    Haven’t you ever made Mr. Fredericks do something you wanted him to do?
Ethel
    Yes, but I always told him that I wanted him to do it.
Mrs. Craig (half-sitting on the arm of the big chair)
    But there are certain things that, men can’t be told, Ethel; they don’t understand them; particularly romantic men; and Mr. Craig is inveterately idealistic.
Ethel
    But, supposing he were to find out sometime?
Mrs. Craig
    Find out what?
Ethel
    What you’ve just been telling me—that you wanted to control him.
Mrs. Craig
    One never comprehends, dear, what it is not in one’s nature to comprehend. And even if it were possible, what about it? It’s such an absolutely unprovable ​thing; that is, I mean to say, it isn’t a thing that one does or says, specifically; it’s a matter of—interpretation. (She is amused) And that’s where women have such a tremendous advantage over men; so few men are capable of interpreting them. But, they can always interpret themselves, if they’re so disposed. And if the interpretation is for the instruction of a romantic husband, a woman can always keep it safely within the exigencies of the moment. (She laughs a little, and moves over to Ethel, resting her hand on Ethel’s shoulder) I know you’re mentally deploring my lack of nobility.
Ethel
    No, I’m not at all, Aunt Harriet.
Mrs. Craig
    Yes, you are, FE see it in your face. (She crosses to the front of the center table) You think I’m a very sordid woman.
Ethel
    No, I don’t think anything of the kind.
Mrs. Craig (turning to Ethel)
    Well, what do you think?
Ethel
    Well, frankly, Aunt Harriet, I don’t think it’s quite honest.
Mrs. Craig
    But it’s very much safer, dear—for everybody. Because, as I say, if a woman is the right kind of a woman, it’s better that the destiny of her home should be in her hands—than in any man’s. (Mrs. Harold appears between the portières) Did you want to see me about something, Mrs. Harold?
​Mrs. Harold
    It’ll do after a while, Mrs. Craig; I thought the young lady had gone upstairs.
Mrs. Craig
    No, not yet, she’s going up immediately. (Turning to Ethel) That’s what I want you to do, Ethel—go upstairs and lie down for an hour or so; you’ll feel ever so much better. I’ll call you in time for dinner.
    [Ethel rises and moves towards the stairs.
Ethel
    I don’t think I’ll be able to eat any dinner, Aunt Harriet.
Mrs. Craig (guiding Ethel towards the stairs)
    Well, now, you might feel very different after you’ve had a bit of a rest.
Ethel
    I’m so terribly worried, Aunt Harriet.
Mrs. Craig
    I know, dear child, it’s very trying; but it’s one of the things we’ve got to go through with, I suppose. Besides, worrying can’t possibly help her, dear.
    [Mrs. Craig continues with Ethel up to the landing, and Ethel goes on up the stairs.
Ethel
    Oh, how can I help worrying.
Mrs. Craig
    You can’t help it, of course, dear; that’s the reason I want you to lie down for a while. I’ll be up in a few minutes—just as soon as I’ve seen to a few things down here. It’s the room straight down the hall, to the right. Mazie’s very likely in there now. And don’t worry, ​dear. (Ethel disappears at the head of the stairs, and Mrs. Craig looks closely at the landing, to see if she can discover any fresh scratches upon it. Mrs. Harold comes in at the right) What was it you wanted to see me about, Mrs. Harold?
    [She comes down, into the room again.
Mrs. Harold
    Why, I wanted to tell you, Mrs. Craig, that the cook left on Thursday. She went away and didn’t come back.
Mrs. Craig
    Did she get her wages?
Mrs. Harold
    I paid her up till Tuesday.
Mrs. Craig
    Did she take her things with her?
Mrs. Harold
    Why, she only had a suitcase and a small graphophone; she took them. But I didn’t think anything about it, because she took them every Thursday.
Mrs. Craig
    Have you been doing the cooking since, Mrs. Harold?
Mrs. Harold
    Yes, we’ve been managin’ between us. Mazie’s a pretty good cook. I called up the Camac Agency on Saturday to send somebody out, but Miss Hewlitt said she wanted to see you first. (Mrs. Craig looks at her) She sez she’s sent so many, she wants to find out what’s the matter before she sends any more.
Mrs. Craig (crossing to the piano)
    She ought to have a few of them cook for her; she’d know what was the matter. Where did these roses come from, Mrs. Harold?
​Mrs. Harold
    Why, that woman across the street brought them over to Miss Austen.
Mrs. Craig
    Mrs. Frazier, you mean?
Mrs. Harold
    Yes, Ma’m, she brought them over to the porch—Miss Austen was sitting out there sewing.
Mrs. Craig
    Well, you’d better take them out of here, Mrs. Harold: the petals’ll be all over the room.
    [Mrs. Harold moves across to the roses, and Mrs. Craig busies herself with the draperies in the bay window beyond the piano.
Mrs. Harold
    You didn’t have to stay away as long as you thought, did you?
Mrs. Craig
    Well, I suppose I could have stayed away indefinitely, if I had allowed myself to become sentimental. But I’m afraid I haven’t very much patience with sick people, Mrs. Harold.
    [Mrs. Harold takes the vase of roses and starts back across towards the portières.
Mrs. Harold
    Well, I suppose it takes all kinds to make a world.
Mrs. Craig
    I suppose so.
Mrs. Harold (stopping, and turning)
    Where do you want these roses put, Mrs. Craig?
Mrs. Craig
    I don’t care where you put them, Mrs. Harold, as long ​as they’re not in the rooms; I don’t want to be picking up petals every two minutes.
Mrs. Harold
    Maybe Miss Austen ’ud like them in her room.
Mrs. Craig (moving down to examine the spot where the vase stood)
    Maybe she would; you can ask her. Is she up there now?
Mrs. Harold
    Yes, Ma’m; Mrs. Frazier is showing her something about a pattern that she has.
    [Mrs. Craig looks at her.
Mrs. Craig
    Do you mean to tell me that Mrs. Frazier is upstairs, Mrs. Harold?
Mrs. Harold
    Yes, Ma’m, she’s up there.
Mrs. Craig
    And how did she happen to get up there?
Mrs. Harold
    Well, I don’t know, I’m sure, Mrs. Craig, unless Miss Austen asked her.
Mrs. Craig
    All right. (She crosses to the foot of the stairs and looks up, and Mrs. Harold goes out through the portières) Have there been any letters or messages for me, Mrs. Harold, since I’ve been away?
Mrs. Harold
    Why, there were two letters, yes; I left them in your room. (Coming into the room again) One came this morning, and one came Tuesday. And there was a gentleman called Mr. Craig last night about eight o’clock, ​but he’d gone out. So I gave him the telephone number that Mr. Craig gave me in case anybody called him.
Mrs. Craig
    Who was the gentleman? Did you get his name?
Mrs. Harold
    Yes, Ma’m, he said his name was Birkmire.
Mrs. Craig
    Do you know if he got Mr. Craig all right?
Mrs. Harold
    Yes, Ma’m, he did; because when I told Mr. Craig this morning about him calling, he said it was all right, that he’d talked to him last night. (Mrs. Craig nods and moves down to the center table) And then he called again this afternoon about half-past four.
    [Mrs. Craig turns and looks at her.
Mrs. Craig
    Mr. Birkmire did?
Mrs. Harold
    Yes, Ma’m; he said he wanted Mr. Craig to get in touch with him as soon as he came in.
Mrs. Craig
    What number was it Mr. Craig gave you last night, Mrs. Harold, to have Mr. Birkmire call him at?
Mrs. Harold
    Why, it was Levering three, one hundred. I wrote it down on a piece of paper, so I wouldn’t forget it.
Mrs. Craig
    All right, Mrs, Harold, I’ll tell him when he comes. (Mrs. Harold goes out) And will you get another vase for those roses, Mrs. Harold, before you take them up—
Mrs. Harold
    All right, I will.
​Mrs. Craig
    That one belongs down here. (She stands and thinks quietly for a second; then, with a glance up the stairs and out after Mrs. Harold, she moves to the telephone and picks it up) Give me Information, please.
    [She waits, glancing toward the other room and up the stairs. Mazie comes down the stairs.
Mazie
    Miss Landreth sent me down for her bag.
Mrs. Craig
    It’s there on the table. (Mazie picks up the bag from the table and starts for the stairs again. Mrs. Craig looks steadily at her and is about to speak when Mazie thinks of herself and turns back, crossing towards the portières) Take that glass out, too, Mazie.
Mazie (picking up the glass from the table as she goes)
    Yes, Ma’m.
Mrs. Craig (into the telephone)
    Information? Why, could you give me the address of the telephone number, Levering three, one hundred? Oh, don’t you?—All right, it isn’t important—thank you very much.
    [She stands thinking for a second. Then the screen door outside bangs, and she sets down the telephone and moves towards the door. Mr. Craig comes in briskly, wearing a Panama hat and carrying a newspaper.
Craig
    Well, look who’s here, bright and smiling!
    [He advances, removing his hat, and she moves a step or two towards him.
Mrs. Craig
    You almost beat me home.
​Craig
    How did this happen? (He kisses her affectionately) When did you get in, Harriet ?
Mrs. Craig (taking his hat and the newspaper from him and putting them on the table)
    A few minutes ago. I left Albany at noon.
Craig (tossing his gloves on the piano)
    And how is it you didn’t wire or something?
Mrs. Craig (picking up her own gloves from the table and straightening out the fingers)
    I never thought of it, to tell the truth; there was so much to be done around there—getting Ethel’s things together, and one thing and another.
Craig
    Was Ethel there?
Mrs. Craic
    Yes, Estelle insisted that she be sent for last Saturday. And for the life of me I don’t know why she did such a thing; for it upset her terribly. So the doctor said he thought the best thing to do would be to get Ethel out of her sight for a few days: so I brought her back with me. She’s upstairs, lying down,
Craig
    How is Estelle?
Mrs. Craig
    Why, I couldn’t see that there was anything the matter with her—any more than usual. But you’d think from her letter she was dying. And then I have to walk out, and leave my house for a whole week, and go racing up to Albany.
Craig
    Has she a trained nurse?
​Mrs. Craig (picking up his hat from the table)
    My dear, she’s had two of them, for over six weeks. But you know what trained nurses are.
Craig
    Well, I’m sorry to hear Estelle is so bad.
Mrs. Craig (handing him his hat)
    Here, take this, Walter.
Craig (drawing her back into his arms)
    But I’m glad to have you back again.
Mrs. Craig (laughing lightly)
    Stop it, Walter.
Craig
    Seems you’ve been away a month instead of a week.
    [He kisses the side of her head.
Mrs. Craig
    Don’t break my bones, Walter!
Craig
    That’s what I think Id like to do sometimes.
Mrs. Craig (laughing)
    Now, stop it. (He releases her and she straightens up, touching her hair) Stop. Here, take this hat and put it out where it belongs. (He takes the hat and crosses above her towards the portières) And take this paper out of here too; this room’s a sight. (He steps back and takes the paper, then goes on out into the other room) Your aunt’s company will be scandalized.
Craig (from the other room)
    Has Auntie Austen got some company?
Mrs. Craig (moving up to arrange the pillows on the fancy seat at the right of the stairway)
    So Mrs. Harold says. She’s upstairs with her.
​Craig (reëntering, and crossing directly over to the bay window at the left)
    Who is it?
Mrs. Craig
    The lady of the roses, across the street there.
Craig
    Mrs. Frazier?
Mrs. Craig
    Yes. She’s getting very sociable.
Craig
    She certainly has some beautiful roses over there, hasn’t she?
Mrs. Craig
    She ought to have; she has nothing to do but look after them.
Craig
    Those ramblers make a pretty effect, down at the side there, don’t they?
Mrs. Craig
    Wait till you see them a week from now.
Craig (turning to her)
    Why?
Mrs. Craig
    Why, there’ll be petals all over the place over there.
Craig
    That ought to be prettier than the way it is now.
Mrs. Craig
    Well, you might not think it was so pretty if you had to sweep them up.
Craig (taking some papers from his inside pocket, and moving to the chair beside the piano)
    I wouldn’t sweep them up. (Mrs. Craig makes a sound ​of vast amusement) I can’t think of anything much prettier than to have rose petals scattered all over the lawn.
    [He sits down.
Mrs. Craig (straightening the big chair in front of the fireplace)
    You’d have a nice looking place, I must say.
Craig
    It’s a wonder she wouldn’t bring a few of those roses over here to Auntie Austen.
Mrs. Craig
    I guess she has sense enough to know that if we wanted roses we could plant some. (She starts across towards him, above the center table, glancing toward the head of the stairs) Listen; she’s apt to be down here any minute, Walter, and if I were you I wouldn’t be sitting there when she comes; for if she sees you you’ll never get away till she’s told you her entire history. I’ve just escaped it twice.
    [She gathers her things together on the table.
Craig
    I’ve talked to her a couple of times on the way up from the garage.
Mrs. Craig
    You mean she’s talked to you.
Craig
    No, she was out there fixing the roses when I came by.
Mrs. Craig
    Of course she was. That’s where she is most of the time. (Becoming confidential, and moving towards him, below the table) And the funny part of it is, Walter, I don’t think she realizes that people know exactly why ​she does it. Really, it’s the most transparently obvious thing I’ve ever seen in my life.
Craig
    Well, why do you think she does it?
Mrs. Craig
    Why do I think she does it?
Craig
    Yes.
    [Mrs. Craig laughs, with a shade of amused impatience.
Mrs. Craig
    Well now, Walter—why do certain women go about all the time with a child by the hand, or a dog on a leash. To facilitate the—approach. (She returns to the table and puts her gloves in her pocketbook; and Craig sits looking at her, mystified) Only the lady upstairs uses roses. So, really, I wouldn’t be sitting there when she comes down, if I were you, Walter; you know there is a danger in propinquity.
Craig (resuming his letters)
    I guess she could have gotten plenty of men if she’d wanted them.
Mrs. Craig
    But she may not have been able to get the kind she wanted. And you may be the kind. (He looks at her and laughs) And this little visit this afternoon, laden with flowers, may be simply the initial attack in a very highly premeditated campaign.
Craig
    Did you say she brought some flowers over this afternoon?
Mrs. Craig
    I said, “highly premeditated.” I believe you told me you’d stopped a number of times to talk to her.
​Craig
    I’ve stopped twice, as a matter of fact.
Mrs. Craig
    And admired her roses?
Craig
    There was nothing much else to talk about.
Mrs. Craig
    Of course there wasn’t; that’s the point. And if there hadn’t been any roses, there wouldn’t have been anything at all to talk about. And you wouldn’t have stopped, and talked. (She looks at him directly and smiles) But since you did, why—it isn’t at all inconceivable that she should conclude that you probably liked roses. And that you might regard it as a very charming little gesture if she were to just bring a few ever sometime—to your aunt—when your wife was out of the city.
Craig (leaning back against the piano and looking at his letters)
    What are you trying to do, kid me, Harriet?
Mrs. Craig
    Not at all. Don’t lean back against that piano that way, Walter, you might scratch it.
Craig
    My coat won’t scratch it.
Mrs. Craig (crossing hurriedly)
    Well, there might be something in your pocket that will. (She pushes him away from the piano) Now, sit up. (She gives him a little slap on the back) Sit over there.
    [She indicates the big chair at the left of the center table, and he rises good-naturedly and crosses to it. Then she ​busies herself examining the spot on the piano where he leaned, and settling the piano scarf carefully.
Craig
    Yes, sir, I think that’s what you’re trying to do, Harriet, just kid me.
Mrs. Craig
    Well now, do you think what I’ve been saying is at all improbable?
Craig
    No, it isn’t improbable; it’s just funny.
Mrs. Craig (crossing back to the table and gathering all her things up)
    The flowers were on the piano when I came in.
Craig
    Well, if they were they were for Auntie Austen.
Mrs. Craig
    Maybe they were. I sent them up to her room, anyway. So Mrs. Frazier probably thinks I thought they were for Auntie Austen. (She starts for the portières at the right, and he looks after her and laughs. She turns and looks at him) What are you laughing at?
Craig
    You.
Mrs. Craig
    Really?
Craig
    You’re very amusing to-night.
Mrs. Craig (coming forward at the right of the table)
    And I think you’re just a little bit reckless, Walter—sitting there tempting the temptress.
Craig
    You know, I think you’re getting jealous of me, Harriet.
​Mrs. Craig (amused)
    Not at all, dear boy; I’m simply suspicious of rich, middle-aged divorcees, who specialize in wayside roses.
    [She leans on her umbrella.
Craig
    Mrs. Frazier isn’t a divorcee.
Mrs. Craig
    Isn’t she?
Craig
    No, her husband was killed in an automobile accident in 1915. She told me so herself. She was in the car with him.
Mrs. Craig
    And how is it she wasn’t killed?
Craig (laughing a little)
    Well now, does everybody have to be killed in automobile accidents?
Mrs. Craig
    No, there’s always the Galveston Flood, for husbands. You’re a very guileless young man, Walter; and I’m sorry your mind doesn’t work just a little bit more rapidly.
Craig
    It works pretty thoroughly, though, when it sees the point.
Mrs. Craig
    But, that’s a very slight advantage, Walter, if the point is made before you see it.
Craig
    Do you know, I’d like to be able to see just what’s going on in your mind to-night.
Mrs. Craig
    Well, if you could, I daresay you’d find something very ​similar to what’s going on in the minds of most of our neighbors these days.
Craig
    Now, just what do you mean by that?
Mrs. Craig
    They have eyes, Walter; and they use them. And I wish you’d use yours. And I also wish you’d tell me whose telephone number Levering three, one hundred is.
Craig
    Fergus Passmore, why?
Mrs. Craig
    Nothing, I was just wondering. Mrs. Harold told me you gave her that number last night in case anybody wanted you, and I was wondering where it was.
    [She moves towards the door again.
Craig
    Fergus Passmore’s, I was playing cards out there last night. I ran into him yesterday in front of the First National, and he asked me to come out there last night and play a little poker.
Mrs. Craig
    What did Billy Birkmire want you for?
Craig
    Why, a—
Mrs. Craig
    Mrs. Harold said he called you up.
Craig
    Yes, Fergus told me to get hold of him, too, and bring him out there; so I did; but he called me up later to tell me that his father had just come in from St. Paul, and he wouldn’t be able to make it. I wasn’t here when he called, so I talked to him from there.
​Mrs. Craig
    I hope you’re not going to get into card-playing again, Walter.
Craig
    Why, I never gave up card-playing.
Mrs. Craig
    Well, you haven’t played in nearly a year.
Craig
    Well, I suppose that’s because you don’t play. And most of the folks know that, so they don’t ask me. I don’t suppose Fergus would have asked me yesterday, only that I happened to mention that you were away.
Mrs. Craig
    Was his wife there?
Craig
    She was for a while, but she didn’t play; she was going out somewhere.
Mrs. Craig
    I suppose that’s the reason Fergus asked you, wasn’t it?
Craig
    What do you mean?
Mrs. Craig
    Why, you know how insanely jealous of her he used to be.
Craig
    Well, I’m sure he was never jealous of me.
Mrs. Craig
    He was jealous of everybody, from what I could see.
Craig
    Oh, don’t be silly, Harriet.
Mrs. Craig
    Well, you wouldn’t know it, Walter, even if he were.
​Craig
    Well, I’m glad I wouldn’t.
Mrs. Craig
    And you come to find out, I’ll bet that’s just the reason Billy Birkmire dodged it. I’ll bet that’s just what he called you up to tell you.
Craig
    He didn’t call me up to tell me anything of the kind, now, Harriet; he simply called me to tel! me that his father had come in unexpectedly from—
Mrs. Craig
    I don’t mean last night; I mean when he called you to-day.
Craig
    He didn’t call me to-day.
Mrs. Craig
    He did, this afternoon, around four o’clock.
Craig
    Here?
Mrs. Craig
    So Mrs. Harold told me. Said he wanted you to get in touch with him as soon as you came in.
Craig (rising, and crossing to the telephone)
    Wonder why he didn’t call the office.
Mrs. Craig (moving towards the portières)
    Probably he did, and you’d gone.
Craig
    What’s Birkmire’s number, do you know?
Mrs. Craig (turning at the door)
    Park 840, isn’t it? Unless they’ve changed it.
Craig
    I think it is.
​Mrs. Craig (lowering her voice)
    And I’m really serious, Walter, about that woman upstairs.
Craig (into the telephone)
    Park 840.
    [There is a laugh from Mrs. Frazier, at the head of the stairs.
Mrs. Craig
    So if I were you I wouldn’t be here when she comes down.
    [He silences her with a gesture; and, with a glance towards the head of the stairs, she goes out at the right.
Mrs. Frazier
    I used to have considerable difficulty myself, when I first started to use them.
Craig
    Hello—Park 840?
Miss Austen (at the head of the stairs)
    Well, I think I understand it now.
Craig
    Is Mr, Birkmire there? (Mrs. Frazier and Miss Austen come down the stairs) Oh, that’s too bad; I just missed him, didn’t I?
Mrs. Frazier
    Well now, please don’t hesitate to call me, Miss Austen, if there’s anything you don’t understand,—
Craig
    Yes, this is Mr. Craig speaking.
Miss Austen
    I will, I’ll let you know.
Mrs. Frazier
    Because I haven’t a solitary thing to do.
    [She sees Mr. Craig at the telephone, and turns to Miss Austen, laying her finger on her lips.
​Craig
    Then, he’ll probably be here pretty soon. (Mrs. Frazier comes down into the room, and Miss Austen stops on the landing, looking at Mr. Craig) Thanks—that’s fine. Thank you very much.
    [He hangs up.
Miss Austen
    Hello, Walter.
Craig
    Hellow, Auntie. How are you?
Miss Austen (coming down from the landing)
    I didn’t know you were home.
Craig
    Just got in this minute. How do you do, Mrs. Frazier.
Mrs. Frazier
    How do you do, Mr. Craig.
Miss Austen
    Mrs. Frazier was kind enough to come up and show me something about a new pattern that I just bought,
Craig
    That so?
Miss Austen
    Mrs. Harold tells me that Harriet is home.
Craig
    Yes, she just got in ahead of me.
Miss Austen
    Did she say how Mrs. Landreth was?
Craig
    Pretty bad shape, I imagine, from what she says.
Miss Austen
    Where is Harriet, upstairs?
​Craig
    Yes, she’s just taken her things up.
Mrs. Frazier
    Miss Austen was telling me that Mrs. Craig’s sister has heart trouble.
Craig
    Yes, she’s had it a long time.
Mrs. Frazier
    Poor woman.
Miss Austen
    Nearly ten years.
Mrs. Frazier
    How unfottunate. I suppose Mrs. Craig is very much upset, isn’t she?
Craig
    Yes, I suppose she is.
Mrs. Frazier
    Is she her only sister?
Craig
    Yes, there are just the two of them.
Mrs. Frazier
    Too bad. But, that’s the way it seems to go as a rule, doesn’t it?
Craig
    Yes, that’s true.
Miss Austen
    Walter, you should see all the wonderful roses Mrs. Frazier just brought me over.
    [Mrs. Frazier gives a little deprecating laugh and moves towards the piano at the left.
Craig
    Oh, yes?
​Miss Austen
    They’re perfectly beautiful.
Mrs. Frazier
    Not a very generous giving, I’m afraid, when there are so many of them.
Craig and Miss Austen (speaking together)
    Craig: Well, I’m sure we appreciate it very much.
    Miss Austen: I think it’s very charming of you to remember us at all.
Mrs. Frazier
    Sometimes I think perhaps I am a bit foolish to have so many of them, because it is a lot of work.
Miss Austen
    It must be; I often say that to Walter.
Mrs. Frazier
    Yes, it is. But, you see, they were more or less of a hobby with my husband when he was alive; and I suppose I tend them out of sentiment, really, more than anything else.
Miss Austen
    How long has your husband been dead, Mrs. Frazier?
Mrs. Frazier
    He’ll be dead ten years this coming November. Yes. Yes, he died the twenty-third of November, 1915. He was injured on the second, in an automobile accident at Pride’s Crossing, Massachusetts: we were on our way back from Bar Harbor—I was telling Mr. Craig about it. And he lingered from that until the twenty-third. So, you see, the melancholy days have really a very literal significance for me,
Miss Austen
    I should say so, indeed.
​Mrs. Frazier
    Yes, that is the one month I must get away. I don’t care where I go, but I must go somewhere; I couldn’t stand it here; I have too many memories. So every year, as soon as ever November comes around, I just pack up my things and go out to Dayton, Ohio. I have a married daughter living out there; her husband is connected with the National Cash Register Company. And, of course, she makes all manner of fun of my annual pilgrimages to Dayton. She says instead of being in England now that April’s there, with me it’s in Dayton now that November’s there. (She laughs faintly) We have great fun about it. But, of course, her husband’s business is there. And I think sometimes perhaps I should spend more time with her; I think it would help us both. But the trouble is, when I go out there, it’s so very difficult for me to get away again. She has the most adorable baby—just fifteen months old; and he thinks there’s nobody in the world like his grandmother. And, of course, I think there’s nobody in the world like him. Although, to tell the truth, I did resent him terrifically when he was born—to think that he’d made me a grandmother. But he’s quite won me over; and I suppose I’m as foolish now as all the other grandmothers.
Miss Austen
    Is she your only daughter, Mrs. Frazier?
Mrs. Frazier
    Yes, she was my only child.
Craig
    Then, you live alone over here, Mrs. Frazier?
Mrs. Frazier
    All alone, yes.
​Miss Austen
    Is that so?
Mrs. Frazier
    Yes, I’ve lived alone now for nearly four years—ever since my daughter was married. Alone at fifty. (She laughs lightly) Rather a premature desolation, isn’t it?
    [She laughs again, a little.
Craig
    Certainly is.
Miss Austen
    I should say so.
Mrs. Frazier
    I remember reading a story by that name one time, a number of years ago; and I remember thinking then, how dreadful that would be—to be left alone—especially for a woman. And yet the very same thing happened to me before I was fifty.
Miss Austen
    Well, didn’t you ever think of going out and living with your daughter, Mrs, Frazier?
Mrs. Frazier
    Well, of course, she has never given up trying to persuade me to do that; but I always say to her, “No, darling, I will live out my days in your father’s house—even though he isn’t there.” I say, “I have my memories, at least; and nobody can take those from me.” Of course, she says I’m sentimental; (she laughs) but I’m not, really—not the least bit. Because if I were, I should have probably married again; but I feel that—
Craig
    I should think you would have married again, Mrs. Frazier.
​Mrs. Frazier
    Well, I suppose that would have been the logical thing to do, Mr. Craig; but, I don’t know—I suppose perhaps I’m one of those one-man women. There are such women, you know.
Miss Austen
    Yes, indeed there are.
Mrs. Frazier
    Just as there are one-woman men. And I think it’s particularly unfortunate when anything happens to the attachment of a person of that kind—whether it’s death, or disillusionment, or whatever it is—because the impairment is always so absolutely irreparable. A person of that type can never care very greatly again, about anything.
Miss Austen (looking away off)
    That’s very true, Mrs. Frazier.
Mrs. Frazier (falling into a mood)
    Never. (She shakes her head slowly from side to side; then starts) Well, I think I’d better go, or you’ll be agreeing with my daughter that I’m sentimental.
    [They follow her towards the door.
Miss Austen and Craig (speaking together)
    Miss Austen: Oh, not at all, Mrs. Frazier; I agree with you perfectly.
    Craig: I think a little bit of sentiment is a very nice thing sometimes.
Mrs. Frazier (turning at the door)
    And I do hope you’ll tell Mrs. Craig that I was inquiring about her sister.
Craig
    I will, Mrs. Frazier, thank you very much.
​Mrs. Frazier
    I hope she’ll be better soon.
    Good afternoon, Mr. Craig.
    [She goes out.
Craig
    Good afternoon, Mrs. Frazier. I hope you’ll come over again very soon.
Mrs. Frazier (calling back)
    Thanks ever so much, I shall be delighted to.
Miss Austen (following her out)
    And thanks again for the roses.
    [Craig turns away from the door and goes up the stairs. Mrs. Craig appears between the portières, looking darkly towards the bay window at the left, where Mrs. Frazier can be seen passing across the lawn.
Mrs. Frazier
    Oh, don’t mention it, dear child, I should have brought you twice as many.
Miss Austen
    And I’ll let you know if there’s anything I don’t understand as I go along.
Mrs. Frazier
    Please do, now, Miss Austen; don’t hesitate to call me.
Miss Austen
    I will, I’ll let you know.
Mrs. Frazier
    Good-by.
Miss Austen
    Good-by, Mrs. Frazier.
    [The screen door slams. Mrs. Craig moves forward to the mirror over the mantelpiece at the right.
​Mrs. Craig
    The silly creature.
    [She stands looking in the mirror, touching her hair. Miss Austen comes in.
Miss Austen (stopping just inside the door)
    Oh, Harriet, I was just going up to your room. How did you find your sister? Mrs. Harold told me a moment ago that you were back.
Mrs. Craig (without turning)
    Yes, I’m back. (Turning, with a touch of challenge in her manner) And I think it’s about time I came back, don’t you?
Miss Austen
    Why, dear?
Mrs. Craig
    Why?
Miss Austen
    Yes, I don’t understand what you mean.
Mrs. Craig
    Well, from the looks of things, if I’d stayed away much longer, I should have probably come back to find my house a thoroughfare for the entire neighborhood.
Miss Austen
    You mean Mrs. Frazier being here?
Mrs. Craig
    You know perfectly well what I mean, Auntie Austen; please don’t try to appear so innocent. (She moves up to the foot of the stairs, to assure herself that Mr. Craig is not within hearing distance. Miss Austen gives her a long, narrow look and moves forward at the right of the piano. There is a pause; then Mrs, Craig comes forward to the ​center table in a perfect fury) That’s exactly what that woman’s been trying to do ever since we’ve been here; and the minute you get my back turned you Jet her succeed—just for the sake of a lot of small talk. How did she happen to get in here?
Miss Austen
    Why, I asked her in, of course; you don’t suppose she walked in of her own accord.
Mrs. Craig
    I wouldn’t put it past her, if she knew I was away. (Miss Austen looks at her) I know Mrs. Frazier’s type better than you do. (She settles the things on the table) What did you do; go over after her?
Miss Austen
    No, I did not. I was sewing on the porch there, and she brought me some roses over, which I think was very thoughtful of her.
Mrs. Craig
    Very thoughtful.
Miss Austen
    And I happened to mention the dress that I was making, and that the pattern that I’d bought for it wasn’t quite clear to me. And she seemed to know from my description just what pattern it was, and very kindly offered to help me.
Mrs. Craig
    Of course; and you walked right into the trap.
Miss Austen (turning to her)
    Well, why do you think she should be so anxious to get in here, Harriet?
Mrs. Craig
    For the same reason that a lot of other women in this ​neighborhood want to get in here—to satisfy their vulgar curiosity; and see what they can see.
Miss Austen
    And, why should you care if they do see?
Mrs. Craig
    I wouldn’t gratify them—I don’t want a lot of idle neighbors on visiting terms. Let them tend to their houses, and they’ll have plenty to do: instead of wasting their time with a lot of silly roses. (She crosses down to the mirror again) Mrs. Frazier is very likely one of those housekeepers that hides the dirt in the corners with a bunch of roses.
Miss Austen
    You know nothing about her house, Harriet.
Mrs. Craig
    I know what her lawn looks like,—that’s enough for me. (Turning) And you had to bring her upstairs, too, for fear she wouldn’t see enough down here.
Miss Austen
    I don’t suppose the woman knows what you’ve got in your house, Harriet.
Mrs. Craig
    Oh, Auntie Austen! Really, I wish you were as guileless in certain other respects as you seem to be in the matter of visiting neighbors.
Miss Austen
    A good neighbor is a very good thing sometimes, Harriet.
Mrs. Craig
    Well, you may have them; I don’t want them running in and out to me.
​Miss Austen
    None of them has ever run in and out to you so far that I remember.
Mrs. Craig
    One of them has just left.
Miss Austen
    She wasn’t here to see you.
Mrs. Craig
    She was in my house, wasn’t she?
Miss Austen
    And in your husband’s house.
Mrs. Craig
    Oh— (She gives a little laugh of mirthless amusement) Well, she was hardly here to see my husband, was she?
    [Miss Austen holds her eye for a second.
Miss Austen
    No, she was not; although I’ve no doubt you’d attempt such an interpretation if you thought there was any possibility of Walter’s believing it. I don’t think any extremity would be too great for you, Harriet, as long as it kept people out of the Temple of the Lord. This Holy of Holies. It’s a great wonder to me you haven’t asked us to take off our shoes, when we walk across the carpet. (Mr. Craig coughs, somewhere upatairs, and Mrs. Craig moves suddenly to the foot of the stairs and looks up) Mrs. Frazier was here to see me, your husband’s aunt. And I made her welcome; and so did he. And asked her to come back again. And I don’t think you’d find him very much in accord with your attitude, if he knew about it.
Mrs. Craig
    Well, you’ll probably tell him.
​Miss Austen
    Oh, I’ve got a lot of things to tell him, Harriet.
Mrs. Craig
    I’ve no doubt you have.
Miss Austen
    I’ve had plenty of time to think about them during the past two years, up there in my room. And they’ve been particularly clear to me this past week that you’ve been away. That’s why I’ve decided to tell Walter; (Mrs. Craig turns sharply and looks at her) because I think he should be told. Only I want you to be here when I tell him, so that you won’t be able to twist what I say.
Mrs. Craig (coming forward to the table)
    You have a very good opinion of me, haven’t you, Auntie Austen?
Miss Austen
    It isn’t an opinion I have of you at all, Harriet; it’s you that I have.
Mrs. Craig
    Well, whatever it is, I’m not at all interested in hearing about it. And I want you to know that I resent intensely your having brought Mrs. Frazier in here.
Miss Austen (turning away)
    Oh, be honest about it, at least, Harriet!
Mrs. Craig
    What do you mean?
Miss Austen
    Why particularize on Mrs. Frazier?
Mrs. Craig
    Because I don’t want her here.
Miss Austen
    You don’t want anybody here.
​Mrs. Craig
    I don’t want her.
    [She strikes the table with her knuckles.
Miss Austen (looking directly at her)
    You don’t want your husband—(Mrs. Craig starts slightly and then stands rigid) only that he’s necessary to the upkeep here. But if you could see how that could be managed without him, his position here wouldn’t be as secure as the position of one of those pillows there.
    [She indicates the pillows on the seat at the right of the stairway.
Mrs. Craig
    Well, I must say, Miss Austen, that’s a very nice thing for you to say to me.
Miss Austen
    It’s the truth, whether you like to hear it or not. You want your house, Harriet, and that’s all you do want. And that’s all you’ll have, at the finish, unless you change your way. People who live to themselves, Harriet, are generally left to themselves; for other people will not go on being made miserable indefinitely for the sake of your ridiculous idolatry of house furnishings.
Mrs. Craig
    You seem to have borne it rather successfully.
Miss Austen
    I did it for Walter’s sake; because I knew he wanted to have me here; and I didn’t want to make it difficult. But I’ve been practically a recluse in that room of mine upstairs ever since we’ve been here; just to avoid scratching that holy stairway, or leaving a footprint on one of these sacred rugs. I’m not used to that kind of stu​pidity. I’m accustomed to living in rooms; (Mr. Craig comes quietly down the stairs and stands on the landing, looking inquiringly from one to the other. Mrs. Craig sees him out of the corner of her eye, and drifts forward to the mirror at the right) and I think too much of myself to consider their appearance where my comfort is concerned. So I’ve decided to make a change. Only I want my reasons to be made perfectly clear to Walter before I go—I think I owe it to him; for his own sake as well as mine.
    [Miss Austen becomes aware of Craig’s presence on the stairway and turns and looks at him. There is a dead pause. Then she turns away, and Craig comes down into the room and forward at the left of the table.
Craig
    What’s the matter?
Mrs. Craig (turning)
    I haven’t the faintest idea, I’m sure. But from what Auntie Austen has just been saying, she seems to think there are quite a few things the matter.
Craig
    What is it, Auntie?
Mrs. Craig
    She tells me she’s going to leave us.
    [He looks at his wife, then at his aunt.
Miss Austen
    It’s nothing very new, Walter.
Craig (to his wife)
    Going to leave the house, you mean?
Mrs. Craig
    So she says.
    [He looks at Auntie Austen again.
​Craig
    You didn’t say that, did you, Auntie?
Mrs. Craig
    Haven’t I just told you she said it?
Miss Austen
    I am leaving to-morrow, Walter.
Craig
    But, why? What’s happened?
Mrs. Craig
    She says she finds my conduct of affairs here unendurable.
Miss Austen
    I’ll be obliged to you, Harriet, if you’ll allow me to explain the reasons for my going; I know them better than you do,
Mrs. Craig (turning to the large chair in front of the fireplace and sitting down)
    You haven’t any reasons that I can see; except the usual jealous reasons that women have—of the wives of men they’ve brought up.
Miss Austen
    You’ll have plenty of time to give your version of my leaving after I’ve gone.
Mrs. Craig
    Well, sit down, then, and let us hear your version of it.
Miss Austen
    I prefer to stand, thank you.
Mrs. Craig
    Just as you please.
Miss Austen (glancing at the chair at the left, below the piano)
    I doubt if I’d know quite how to sit in one of these chairs.
​Craig
    Why, what do you mean, Auntie? I can’t believe that you’ve had any difficulty with any one; and especially with Harriet—who thinks the world of you. (Miss Austen smiles dryly) Now, you know she does, Auntie. Harriet is just as fond of you as I am. (Turning to his wife) Why, it’s incredible, positively.
Mrs. Craig
    I’m glad you’re here—to hear some of this.
Craig
    I suppose there are little irritations come up around a house occasionally, just as there are in any other business; but I’m sure you’re too sensible, Auntie, to allow them to affect you to the extent of making you want to leave the house. Why, what would we do around here without you. It wouldn’t seem to me that we had any house at all. What was it you said to Auntie, Harriet?
Mrs. Craig
    I haven’t said anything to her, of course; she’s simply using her imagination,
Craig
    Then, it isn’t anything that Harriet has said to you, Auntie?
Miss Austen
    Oh, no—Harriet never says anything. She simply acts; and leaves you to interpret—if you’re able. And it takes a long time to be able—until you find the key. And then it’s all very simple—and very ridiculous, and incredibly selfish. So much so, Walter, that I rather despair of ever convincing you of my justification for leaving your house.
​Craig
    Well, what has Harriet done, Auntie?
Mrs. Craig
    I’ll tell you what I did, Walter—I objected to Auntie Austen’s having brought that woman across the street there in here while I was away.
Craig
    You mean Mrs. Frazier?
Mrs. Craig
    Yes, I mean Mrs. Frazier.
Craig
    Why, what’s the matter with Mrs. Frazier?
Mrs. Craig
    She’s a vulgar old busybody, that’s what’s the matter with her—that’s been trying to get in here ever since we’ve been here.
Craig
    What do you mean, she’s been trying to get in here?
Mrs. Craig
    You wouldn’t understand if I told you, Walter. It’s a form of curiosity that women have about other women’s houses that men can’t appreciate.
Miss Austen
    Harriet is chiefly provoked, Walter, because she has allowed herself to be tempted off form for a moment. She would much prefer to have excluded Mrs. Frazier by the usual method—that has been employed in the exclusion of every other man and woman that has ever visited here. But since she’s blundered, she must attempt to justify herself now by arraigning Mrs. Frazier as everything from a vulgarian to a busybody—and ​even to insinuating that her visit here this afternoon was inspired by an interest in you.
Mrs. Craig
    I insinuated nothing of the kind. I simply asked a question in answer to an insinuation of yours.
Miss Austen
    The details are unimportant, Harriet; I know the principle.
Mrs. Craig
    Well, tell the truth about it, at least.
Miss Austen
    That is exactly what I am going to do—even at the risk of Walter’s disfavor.
Craig
    I don’t think you could very well incur that, Auntie.
Miss Austen
    You’re a man, Walter; and you’re in love with your wife. And I am perfectly familiar with the usual result of interference under those circumstances.
Craig
    Well, I hope I’m open to conviction, Auntie, if you have a grievance.
Miss Austen
    It isn’t my own cause I’m about to plead; it doesn’t matter about me. I sha’n’t be here. But I don’t want to be witness to the undoing of a man that was by way of becoming a very important citizen, without warning him of the danger.
Craig
    I don’t understand what you mean, Auntie.
Miss Austen
    That is probably the greater part of the danger, Walter​—that you don’t understand. If you did it would be scarcely necessary to warn you.
Craig
    Of what?
    [There is a pause; and Miss Austen looks right into his eyes.
Miss Austen
    Your wife.
    [Mrs. Craig breaks into a mirthless laugh, at the absurdity of Miss Austen’s implication. Craig turns and looks at her.
Craig
    What are you laughing at, Harriet?
Mrs. Craig
    Why, don’t you think that’s very amusing?
Craig
    I don’t know that I think it’s so very amusing.
Mrs. Craig
    Well, wait till you’ve heard the rest of it; you’ll probably change your mind.
Miss Austen (looking steadily at Mrs. Craig)
    Harriet isn’t really laughing, Walter.
Mrs. Craig
    What em I doing, crying?
Miss Austen
    You are whistling in the dark.
Mrs. Craig (vastly amused, and rising)
    Oh, dear!
    [She touches her hair before the mirror.
Miss Austen
    You’re terrified that your secret has been discovered.
    [Mrs. Craig turns sharply and faces her.
​Mrs. Craig
    Really? And what is my secret?
Miss Austen
    I think it’s hardly necessary to tell you that, Harriet.
Mrs. Craig
    But, I’m interested in hearing it.
Miss Austen
    Well, you can listen while I tell it to Walter.
Mrs. Craig
    Very well.
Miss Austen
    But, I want you to know before I tell him that it didn’t remain for your outburst against Mrs. Frazier here a few minutes ago to reveal it to me; I knew it almost as soon as Walter’s mother knew it.
    [There is a pause: then Mrs. Craig moves a few steps towards her husband.
Mrs. Craig (with a touch of mock mysteriousness)
    She means that I’ve been trying to poison you, secretly, Walter.
Miss Austen
    Not so secretly, either, Harriet.
    [Mrs. Craig laughs lightly.
Mrs. Craig (going up towards the portières)
    Well, I’m sorry I must go, for I’m sure this is going to be very amusing.
Miss Austen
    I’ve asked Harriet to stay here, Walter.
    [Mrs. Craig turns sharply at the portières,
Mrs. Craig
    Well, I don’t intend to stay.
​Miss Austen
    I didn’t think you would.
Craig
    Why not, Harriet?
Mrs. Craig
    Because I have something more important to do than listen to a lot of absurdities.
Miss Austen
    Then I shall have to regard your going as an admission of the truth of those absurdities.
Mrs. Craig
    Well, you may regard it as you please: only I hope when you’ve finished discussing me, you’ll be as frank in letting Walter know something of what I’ve been putting up with during the past two years.
    [She goes out through the portières.
Miss Austen
    Playing the martyr as usual. (Craig takes a step or two towards the portières, and they stand for a second looking after her. Then he turns and looks at his aunt) I could have almost spoken those last words for her, Walter; I know her so well.
Craig (coming down to the front of the table)
    I wish you’d tell me what’s happened here, Auntie.
Miss Austen (crossing to him)
    That isn’t so easy to tell to a man, Walter; it requires a bit of elucidation.
Craig
    What is it?
Miss Austen
    Walter—why do you suppose your mother asked you to promise her, when she was dying, that you’d take me with you when you married?
​Craig
    Why, I think that was a perfectly natural request, Auntie, considering what you’d been to both of us during her illness.
Miss Austen
    But, it wasn’t as though I should need a home—for she knew I preferred to travel,—that that’s what I was preparing to do when she was first stricken. And I never told you, Walter, but she asked me to promise her that I should accept your invitation when you made it. You see, she knew her woman, Walter,—the woman you were going to marry.
Craig
    You mean that Mother didn’t like Harriet?
Miss Austen
    Nobody could like Harriet, Walter; she doesn’t want them to.
Craig
    I like her.
Miss Austen
    You’re blinded by a pretty face, son, as many another man has been blinded,
Craig
    Well, what has Harriet done?
Miss Austen
    She’s left you practically friendless, for one thing; because the visits of your friends imply an importance to you that is at variance with her plan: so she’s made it perfectly clear to them, by a thousand little gestures, that they are not welcome in her house. Because this is her house, you know, Walter; it isn’t yours—don’t make any mistake about that. This house is what ​Harriet married—she didn’t marry you. You simply went with the house—as a more or less regrettable necessity. And you must not obtrude; for she wants the house all to herself. So she has set about reducing you to as negligible a factor as possible in the scheme of things here.
Craig
    You don’t really believe that, Auntie, do you?
Miss Austen
    That is her plan concerning you, Walter, I’m telling you. That is why the visits of your friends have been discouraged.
Craig
    I can’t think that Harriet would discourage my friends, Auntie.
Miss Austen
    Does any of them come here?
Craig
    Why, most of them have been here at one time or another, yes.
Miss Austen
    Not within the last eighteen months; and you’ve only been married two years.
Craig
    Well, why shouldn’t Harriet want my friends here?
Miss Austen
    For the same reason that she doesn’t want anybody else here. Because she’s a supremely selfish woman; and with the arrogance of the selfish mind, she wants to exclude the whole world—because she cannot impose her narrow little order upon it. And these four walls are the symbol of that selfish exclusion.
​Craig (turning away, and crossing towards the right)
    I can’t believe that, Auntie.
Miss Austen (extending her arms towards the front door)
    Can you remember when any one has darkened that door—until here to-day, when Mrs. Frazier came over? —And you see the result of that. And why do you suppose that people have so suddenly stopped visiting you? They always visited you at home. It can hardly be that you’ve changed so radically in two years. And I daresay all those charming young men and women that used to have such pleasant times at home, thought that when you married your house would be quite a rendezvous. But they reckoned without their—hostess, Walter—just as they are beginning to reckon without you. (He turns and looks at her) You never go out any more.—Nobody ever asks you.—They’re afraid you might bring her; and they don’t want her.—Because she’s made it perfectly clear to them that she doesn’t want them. (Craig turns away again slowly) And just as your friends are beginning to reckon without you in their social life, so it is only a question of time till they begin to reckon without you in their business life. (He looks at her again, and she moves across towards him) Walter—why do you suppose your appointment as one of the directors of the local bank never materialized?
Craig
    Why, I think Littlefield had something to do with that; he’s been high-hatting me a bit lately.
Miss Austen
    Because Harriet insulted his wife here; I saw her do it.
Craig
    When?
​Miss Austen
    The week after New Year’s, when Mrs. Littlefield called.
Craig
    What did Harriet do?
Miss Austen
    Nothing—what Harriet always does. It was a little feline subtlety—that would sound too incredible in the ears of a man. But Mrs. Littlefield appreciated it, for all her stupidity. I saw her appreciate it—and you were not appointed. (Craig looks away) And I want to tell you something else that I saw the other day in the city, or rather heard. I was having luncheon at the Colonnade, and two of your old Thursday-night poker crowd came in, and sat at a table within hearing distance of me. And presently a man and his wife came in and sat down at another table. And the wife immediately proceeded to tell the man how he should have sat down; and how he should sit now that he was down, and so on. And I distinctly heard one of your friends say to the other, “Listen to Craig’s wife over here.” (Craig turns his head and looks right into Miss Austen’s eyes. There is a slight pause. Then he crosses in front of her, and continues over to the piano at the left. She moves towards the left also, going up above the table) That is a little straw, Walter, that should show you the way the wind is blowing. Your friends resent being told where they shall sit, and how; so they are avoiding the occasion of it—just as I am going to avoid it. But you cannot avoid it, so you must deal with it.
Craig How? How should I deal with it?
​Miss Austen (taking hold of the back of the chair at the left of the table)
    By impressing your wife with the realization that there is a man of the house here, as well as a woman; and that you are that man. And if you don’t, Walter, you are going to go the way of every other man that has ever allowed himself to be dominated by a selfish woman.—Become a pallid little echo of her distorted opinions; believing finally that every friend you ever had before you met her was trying to lead you into perdition—and that she rescued you, and made a man of you. (She makes a little sound of bitter amusement, and turns away towards the foot of the stairs) The irony of it. And yet they can do it.
Craig (crossing back towards the right)
    Harriet could never turn me against my friends.
Miss Austen (turning at the foot of the stairs, and speaking with level conviction)
    Walter—they can make men believe that the mothers that nursed them—are their arch enemies. (She comes forward suddenly and rests her left hand on the table) That’s why I’m warning you. For you’re fighting for the life of your manhood, Walter; and I cannot in conscience leave this house without at least turning on the light here, and letting you see what it is that you’re fighting against.
    [She starts for the stairs, and Craig turns suddenly and follows her.
Craig
    Auntie, I can’t see you leave this house!
Miss Austen (stopping on the second step)
    But, if I’m not happy here.
​Craig
    Well, why have I been so blind that I haven’t seen that you were not happy, and fixed it so that you would be!
Miss Austen (quietly)
    Because you haven’t seen your wife, Walter.
Craig
    Oh, I can’t be convinced that there isn’t an enormous element of misunderstanding between you and Harriet. (Miss Austen closes her eyes and shakes her head from side to side) Oh, I’m not disputing that she has a peculiar disposition—she may be all that you say of her;—but I really can’t see the necessity of your leaving the house; the thing must be susceptible of some sort of adjustment.
    [Miss Austen lays her right hand on his shoulder.
Miss Austen
    No house is big enough, Walter, for two women who are interested in the same man.
Craig (crossing over to the left)
    I’ll never have a minute’s peace if you leave here; I’ll reproach myself.
Miss Austen
    You have nothing to reproach yourself with, Walter; you’ve always been very kind and very good to me.
Craig
    What will you do if you leave here?
Miss Austen
    What I’ve always wanted to do—travel—all over the world—far and wide: so that I shan’t become—little. I have such a deadly fear of that after these past two years.
​Craig
    But, I promised Mother that you’d always have a home with me, and if you go, I’ll feel somehow that I’m breaking that promise.
Miss Austen
    You haven’t a home to offer me, Walter. (He looks at her) You have a house—with furniture in it—that can only be used under highly specified conditions. I have the impression somehow or other, when I look at these rooms—that they are rooms that have died—and are laid out.
    [She turns and starts up the stairs.
Craig
    Well, whatever they are, they’ll seem less if you leave them. I don’t think I’d feel worse if it were Mother herself that were leaving.
    [Miss Austen turns, with her hand on the balustrade.
Miss Austen
    Be glad that it isn’t your mother, Walter; she would have left long ago.
    [She goes on up the stairs, and he stands looking after her. There is a ring at the front door. He turns and looks out through the French windows, then moves to the middle of the room and looks out through the portières. The bell rings again; then Mazie comes down the stairs.
Craig
    There’s a little boy at the front door, Mazie.
Mazie
    Yes, sir, I heard the bell.
Craig
    I’m expecting a gentleman, too, Mazie, in a few minutes; I’ll be upstairs.
​Mazie
    All right, Mr. Craig, I’ll call you when he comes.
    [Mazie goes out to answer the bell, and Craig goes up the stairs. He stops halfway up and thinks.
Boy’s voice (at the front door)
    Why, Christine, up at the corner, sez if you’re goin’ to the Society to-night, would you mind payin’ her dues for her; she sez she can’t go to-night.
    [Craig disappears.
Mazie
    Oh, sure, tell her I’ll be glad to.
Boy’s voice
    She sez the card’s in the envelope there with the money.
    [Mrs. Harold comes in through the portières and crosses towards the door, looking out keenly.
Mazie
    All right, dear, tell her I’ll tend to it.
    [The screen door slams and Mazie comes in.
Mrs. Harold
    Did you answer that door, Mazie?
Mazie (crossing below the table to the mantelpiece)
    Yes, it was the tailor’s little boy, up at the corner, with Christine’s Society money. He sez Christine can’t go to-night.
Mrs. Harold
    Is to-night Society night again already?
Mazie (putting an envelope back of the center ornament on the mantelpiece)
    It’s the third Friday.
Mrs. Harold
    I can never keep track of that old Society.
​Mazie
    Do you want me to pay your dues for you?
Mrs. Harold (moving to the foot of the stairs)
    No, dear, I’m paid up to the first of July. (Mazie turns from the mantelpiece and moves towards her) Where did Mr. Craig go—upstairs?
Mazie
    I guess so, unless he’s out there somewhere.
Mrs. Harold (glancing towards the front porch, and taking a step or two towards Mazie)
    No, he’s not out there.
Mazie
    Why, what’s the matter?
Mrs. Harold (laying her hand on Mazie’s arm, and lowering her voice)
    I think the old lady’s goin’ to leave.
    [She tiptoes to the portières, Mazie watching her.
Mazie
    Miss Austen?
    [Mrs. Harold nods; and then looks out through the adjoining rooms.
Mrs. Harold (turning to Mazie)
    The lady made a row about Mrs. Frazier being here.
    [She looks out again.
Mazie
    Did she?
Mrs. Harold (coming back)
    She was furious. I knew it was coming by the face on her when she told me to take the roses out of the room. So as soon as J heard Mrs. Frazier goin’, I went right up to the library; you can hear every word up there, you know, over near the radiator.
​Mazie
    Yes, I know you can. Was he here?
Mrs. Harold
    He wasn’t at first, but I think he must have come down while they were at it. I heard her say she didn’t want her house made a thoroughfare for the neighborhood.
Mazie
    Can you imagine it—as though anybody ever came in here.
Mrs. Harold
    That’s what I felt like sayin’. But Miss Austen told her.
Mazie
    Did she?
Mrs. Harold
    I should say she did. It didn’t take Mrs. Craig long to get out of the room once Miss Austen got started.
    [A door closes upstairs, and Mazie darts to the center table and settles the table scarf. Mrs. Harold steps to the big chair in front of the mantelpiece and feigns to be occupied in setting it straight. Mazie glances over her right shoulder up the stairs, then steps up to the foot of the stairs and glances up. Then she hurries forward to Mrs. Harold again, glancing through the portières as she goes.
Mazie
    What did Mrs, Craig do, walk out of the room?
Mrs. Harold
    Yes. She said she had something else to do besides listenin’ to a lot of silly talk. (Mazie raises her eyes to heaven) I felt like sayin’ I’d like to know what it was she had to do.
Mazie
    So would I.
​Mrs. Harold
    I’ve been here nearly a year now, and I have my first time to see her do anything—only a lot of snoopin’—after somebody else has finished.
Mazie
    It’s too bad Miss Austen didn’t tell her that while she was at it.
Mrs. Harold (raising her hand, with a touch of solemnity)
    She told her enough.
    [She goes up to the foot of the stairs and looks up.
Mazie
    Well, didn’t he say anything?
Mrs. Harold
    Not very much; Miss Austen done most of the talkin’. (She comes down to Mazie’s left, confidentially) She told him if he didn’t do something very soon, his wife ’ud make him look like an echo.
Mazie
    She will, too.
Mrs. Harold
    He said she had a peculiar disposition—and that Miss Austen didn’t understand her. Well, I felt like sayin’ if Miss Austen don’t understand her, I do. And I’d soon tell her how well I understand her, too, only that she gives me a wide berth.
Mazie
    I feel kind of sorry for him sometimes, though.
Mrs. Harold
    Yes, it’s a pity for him. (Lowering her voice, and speaking with great conviction) She could build a nest in his ear, and he’d never know it.
    [She turns to the table and settles the various ornaments.
​Mazie
    She certainly is the hardest woman to please that I’ve ever worked for.
Mrs. Harold
    Well, I don’t know whether she’s hard to please or not, Mazie, for I’ve never tried to please her. I do my work, and if she don’t like it she has a tongue in her head; she can soon tell me, and I can go somewhere else. I’ve worked in too many houses to be cut of a place very long. (Straightening up and resting her left hand on the table) Did I tell you about her wanting me to dust the leaves off that little tree in front of the dining-room window last week?
Mazie
    Dust the leaves?
Mrs. Harold (looking to heaven for witness)
    That’s the honest God’s fact. And me with the rheumatism at the time.
Mazie
    Can you imagine such a thing?
Mrs. Harold
    Well, you know how I done it, don’t you?
Mazie
    What’d you say to her?
Mrs. Harold
    I told her right up; I said, “I’ll dust no tree for nobody.”
Mazie
    You done right.
Mrs. Harold
    She sez, “You mean you refuse to dust. it?”—“Yes,” I sez, “I refuse, and,” I sez, “what’s more, I’m goin’ to stay refuse.” “Well,” she sez, “it needs dusting, ​whether you dust it or not.” “Well,” I sez, “let it need it,” I sez. I sez, “A little dust won’t poison it.” I sez, “We’ll be dust ourselves some day, unless we get drownded.”
    [She goes to the portières.
Mazie
    You done right.
Mrs. Harold
    Oh, I told her.
    [She glances out through the rooms.
Mazie
    I think the worst kind of a woman a girl can work for is one that’s crazy about her house.
Mrs. Harold
    I do, too; because I think they are crazy half the time. You know, you can go crazy over a house, Mazie, the same as you can over anything else.
Mazie
    Sure you can.
Mrs. Harold
    Doctor Nicholson’s wife was one of them; although she wasn’t as generous a woman as this one.
Mazie
    No, that’s one thing you’ve got to say for Mrs. Craig; she’s not stingy.
Mrs. Harold
    No, that’s true, she isn’t.
Mazie
    I don’t think I’ve ever worked in a house where there was as good a table for the help.
Mrs. Harold
    That’s right; you always get whatever they get.
​Mazie
    And you never have to ask for your wages, neither.
    [The doorbell rings.
Mrs. Harold
    No, she’s very good that way.
Mazie (going to answer the door, settling her cap and apron)
    I guess that’s that gentleman Mr. Craig’s expectin’.
Mrs. Harold
    Come out when you come in, Mazie.
    [She goes out through the portières. Mr. Craig comes down the stairs.
Birkmire (at the front door)
    Good evening. Is Mr. Craig in?
Mazie
    Yes, sir, he’s in.
    [The screen door is heard to close, and Birkmire enters.
Craig (coming in)
    Hello, Billy, how are you?
Birkmire (shaking hands earnestly)
    Hello, Walt.
    [He looks right into Craig’s eyes.
Craig
    I called your house a little while ago; (Birkmire turns to the piano with his raincoat and hat) there was a message here for me when I got in, saying you’d called.
    [Mazie comes in and crosses towards the portières.
Birkmire
    Yes, I’ve been trying to get hold of you since four o’clock.
Craig
    Let me take those things out of your way.
    [Mazie stops near the portières and looks back, to see if they want her to take Birkmire’s things.
​Birkmire
    No, thanks, Walter, I’ve got to get right back to the house.
    [Mazie goes out; and Craig moves down towards the table.
Craig
    Your father still here?
Birkmire
    Yes, he’ll be here for a day or two yet.
    [He looks keenly out through the portières, stepping up towards the back of the room.
Craig (watching him curiously)
    What’s the matter? (Birkmire makes a deft gesture, signifying that Mazie may be within hearing distance) What is it?
Birkmire (stepping down close to Craig and laying his hand on his sleeve)
    What about it, Walt?
Craig
    About what?
Birkmire
    About Fergus and his wife. You were out there last night, weren’t you?
Craig
    Sure. That’s where I talked to you from.
Birkmire
    Well, my God, what happened out there, Walter?
Craig
    What do you mean?
Birkmire
    Haven’t you seen the evening papers?
Craig
    Not yet, no. Why?
​Birkmire (smothering an exclamation, and stepping to the piano to get a newspaper out of his pocket)
    Jesus, how did you miss it!
Craig
    Why, what’s happened?
Birkmire
    Fergus and his wife are dead.
Craig
    What!
Birkmire
    Found them this morning in the library.
Craig
    Passmore, you mean?
Birkmire (handing him the paper)
    Here it is on the front page of the Telegraph.
Craig (crossing down to the right)
    What are you saying, Billy?
Birkmire (stepping over towards the portières and looking out)
    It’s in every paper in town,
Craig
    Where is it?
Birkmire (coming forward at Craig’s left and indicating a certain headline)
    Fergus Passmore and wife found dead in library.
Craig
    My God!
Birkmire
    I happened to see it over a man’s shoulder coming down in the elevator in the Land Title Building about four o’clock, and I damned near had heart failure. (He turns away to the left and takes a cigarette from a case) I’ve been trying to get you on the ’phone ever since. ​And I saw her myself at the Ritz last night at twelve o’clock. I was talking to her. I took the old man over there for a bit of supper after the show, and she was there with that military gent she’s been stepping it with lately. (Suddenly laying his hand on Craig’s arm) That’s my hunch on this thing, Walter. I think she’s been playing this soldier fellow a little too much lately and Fergus has heard of it and probably called it when she got in last night, and busted up the show, You know, he was always jealous as hell of her.
    [He takes a step or two towards the back and glances through the portières.
Craig
    There must be a catch in this thing somewhere, Billy.
Birkmire (coming forward again)
    How could there be a catch in it, Walter? Do you think they’d print that kind of stuff for a joke.
Craig
    Well, my God, I was out there last night till twelve o’clock.
Birkmire (tearing the cigarette between his fingers)
    Well, evidently this thing happened after you got away from there. Did she get in before you left there last night?
Craig (looking up from the paper)
    What?
Birkmire
    I say, did Adelaide get in last night before you left out there?
Craig
    No, but she was there when I got out there, about nine o’clock, She was going out somewhere.
​Birkmire
    Yes, and I know who it was she was going out with, too; that’s the third time I’ve run into her with that bird lately. And I want to find out what his name is right away quick, too, for he might be in on this thing.
Craig
    Have you been out there yet?
Birkmire
    Out to Fergus’, you mean?
Craig
    Yes.
Birkmire
    Sure, I hopped right out there as soon as I read it; but you can’t get near the place.
Craig
    I think I ought to get in touch with Police Headquarters right away, Billy.
Birkmire
    Well, that’s why I wanted to get hold of you. It says there they’re looking for a man seen leaving the house after midnight.
Craig
    Sure, that’s me.
Birkmire
    Well, not necessarily you, Walter.
Craig
    That’s the time I got away from there.
Birkmire
    That doesn’t mean anything. Only I think it ’ud be a good thing to let them know right away.
Craig (turning suddenly and going up to the telephone)
    Sure, I’ll call up right away.
​Birkmire (following him up)
    Well, now, wait a minute, Walter, don’t move too fast; you know a thing like this can take a thousand and one turns, and we don’t want to make any false move. This kind of thing ’ud be pie for the newspapers, you know; and the fact that we were invited out there to play cards wouldn’t read any too well.
Craig
    Well, you weren’t out there.
Birkmire
    I know that; but I’m not sitting back in the corner in this thing, you know, Walter. It just so happened that I wasn’t out there. But I talked to you on the telephone out there last night, from my house, and in a thing of this kind they trace telephone calls and everything else.
Craig (looking at the paper again)
    My God, this is a terrible thing, though, isn’t it, Billy.
Birkmire (turning away to the left, and passing his hand across hie brow)
    I haven’t got it myself yet.
Craig
    Terrible.
Birkmire
    It’ll be a jar to your wife when she hears it, won’t it?
Craig
    Awful.
Birkmire
    She’ll very likely see it in the paper up there in Albany.
Craig
    She’s back from Albany.
Birkmire
    Is she?
​Craig
    She got in a while ago.
Birkmire
    Well, she doesn’t know anything about this yet, does she?
Craig
    I don’t think so; unless she happened to see the paper I brought home. I suppose it’s in it.
Birkmire
    Sure, it’s in all of them.
Craig
    I just took it from the boy and put it in my pocket.
Birkmire
    Where is Harriet?
Craig
    She’s upstairs.
Birkmire (lowering his voice)
    Does she know you were out there last night?
Craig
    I don’t know, I guess she does. Yes, I think I mentioned it a while ago.
Birkmire (stepping to Craig’s side, and laying his hand on his arm)
    Well, now, listen, Walter—If she doesn’t happen to see the paper, what she doesn’t know won’t bother her. And this thing is apt to clear itself up over night. It might be cleared up now, for all we know; for I suppose the police have been working on it all day. But, I think the wise move for us is just to hop out there and try to find out what’s going on; and if they haven’t found anything out yet, just get in touch with Police Headquarters and let them know where we’re at.
​Craig (tossing the newspaper on to the seat beside the telephone table)
    Yes, let’s do that. Wait till I get my hat.
    [He goes through the portières.
Birkmire (crossing to the piano for his things)
    I’ve got my car out here; we can cut across the park and be out there in ten minutes.
    [He throws his raincoat across his arm, picks up his hat, and steps quickly across to get the newspaper that Craig left on the seat. He glances up the stairs and out through the portières. Then he sees Craig coming through the adjoining room, and starts for the front door.
Craig (entering, wearing his hat, and carrying the newspaper he brought home)
    I’ll take this paper with me; keep it out of sight.
Birkmire
    I’ve got the other one here in my pocket.
    [Birkmire goes out.
Craig (glancing about the room as he crosses to the front door)
    We take the Globe here in the afternoon, but I don’t see it anywhere around out there.
    [He goes out.
Birkmire (outside)
    I’ve got the car right out here.
Craig (outside)
    I guess across the park will be the quickest.
Birkmire
    Yes, we can be over there in ten minutes.
    [There is a dead pause. Then a clock somewhere out at the right strikes half-past six, with a soft gong. There is another slight pause, and then Mrs. Craig sweeps through the portières, carrying an open newspaper. She sees ​that no one is in the room, and rushes to the forward window to see of she can see Mr. Craig anywhere about. Then she starts for the front door, but changes her mind and rushes up to the landing of the stairway.
Mrs. Craig (calling up the stairs)
    Walter!—Walter!—Are you up there, Walter? (She hurries down into the room again and over to the portières) Mazie!—Mazie!
    [She runs across to the front door and out. Mazie comes in through the portières and looks about, then starts towards the front door. Mrs. Craig hurries in again.
Mazie
    Were you calling me, Mrs. Craig?
Mrs. Craig
    Yes, Mazie. Have you seen anything of Mr. Craig?
Mazie
    Why, he was here a few minutes ago, Mrs. Craig, with a gentleman,
Mrs. Craig
    What gentleman? Who was he?
Mazie
    I don’t know who he was, Mrs. Craig; I never saw him before.
Mrs. Craig
    Didn’t you catch his name?
Mazie
    No, Ma’m, I didn’t. He came in an automobile.
Mrs. Craig
    Well, did Mr. Craig go away with him?
Mazie
    I don’t know whether he did or not, Mrs. Craig. I didn’t know he’d gone.
​Mrs. Craig (turning Mazie around quickly by the shoulder and urging her towards the portières)
    See if Mr. Craig’s hat’s on the rack out there.
Mazie (hurrying out)
    Isn’t he up in his room?
Mrs. Craig
    No, he isn’t. (She turns breathlessly and looks towards the bay window at the left) Oh, Lord! (Turning to the portières again) Is it?
Mazie (from somewhere out at the right)
    No, Ma’nm, it isn’t.
Mrs. Craig
    Well, listen, Mazie, run over to the garage there and see if he’s there! No, no, come this way, it’s quicker. (She waits frantically until Mazie rushes through the portières and across towards the front door) And if he’s there tell him to come over here immediately; I want to see him.
Mazie
    Yes, Ma’m.
    [The screen door slams after her, and she hurries past the bay window at the left.
Mrs. Craig
    Hurry now, Mazie. Tell him I want him right away. (She turns in the door and leans against the jamb, looking straight out, wide-eyed, and holding the newspaper against her bosom) Oh, my God! (She hurries across above the center table and down to the window, forward, at the right) Oh, my God!
    [She stands looking eagerly through the window, toward the left, as though watching Mazie running down the street.
THE CURTAIN DESCENDS SLOWLY