Contemporary One-Act Plays Part 69

HUGH. Hush, she's gone!

NELI. [_Amazed, and whispering to herself._] Under the table!

HUGH. [_Rising and putting up his hand as a sign for her to keep silent._] Nay, 'twas Mrs. Jones the Wash come to buy her soap whatever!

NELI. Aye, well, why didn't she come in whatever?

HUGH. [_Whispering._] I locked the door, Neli, so I could finish readin'

those essays whatever! An' then she looked in at the window, an' I had to get under the table.

NELI. [_Indignantly._] Locked the door against a customer, an' after all I said! An' crawled under a table! Hugh Williams, your wits are goin'

quite on the downfall!

HUGH. [_In a whisper._] Aye, but Neli, those essays--an' I thought ye had gone to market.

NELI. I had started, but I came back for my purse. Put down that book!

HUGH. Aye, but, Neli----

NELI. [_Angrily._] Much less of heaven an' much more of earth is what I need in a husband! Ye have sent away a customer; very like Mrs. Jones the Wash after soap will go elsewhere.

HUGH. Aye, but Neli....

[_Steps are heard approaching._

NELI. Get up! Some one is coming.

[HUGH _gets up very unwillingly_.

HUGH. [_Whispering still._] Aye, but Neli....

NELI. [_Angrily._] Put down that book, I say! [_She crunches over some eggsh.e.l.ls._] Eggs? Broken?

HUGH. [_Putting down book._] Aye, Neli, my elbow an' the eggs in Babylon....

NELI. [_Sarcastically._] Aye, I see beasts in Babylon here together--doleful creatures smearin' one an' sixpence worth of eggs all over the floor. An' a half-dozen eggs gone last week. [_Wiping up eggs._] An' I'm to suppose Babylon had something to do with that half-dozen eggs, too? They were put in the basket after Mrs. Jones the Wash had left whatever, an' before Deacon Roberts came.

HUGH. Neli, I did not say----

NELI. [_Still angrily._] Well, indeed, unlock that door!

HUGH. [_Going to unlock door._] But, Neli....

NELI. [_Disappearing through door back centre._] Not a word! Your mind has gone quite on the downfall--lockin' doors against your own bread and b.u.t.ter an' soap.

HUGH. [_Unlocking door sullenly._] But, Neli, salvation an' soap....

NELI. [_Snappily._] Salvation an' soap are as thick as thieves.

HUGH. But, Neli, a man is his own master.

NELI. Yiss, I see he is!

[NELI _goes out, slamming door noisily_.

HUGH. Dear anwyl, she seems angry!

[HUGH _opens street door left just as_ NELI _goes out through kitchen, by door back centre_. DEACON ROBERTS _enters the door_ HUGH _has unlocked. He looks at_ HUGH, _smiles, and goes over to counter in a businesslike way. He is a stout man, dressed in a black broadcloth cutaway coat, tight trousers, a drab vest, high collar and stock, woollen gloves, a m.u.f.fler wound about his neck and face, and a tall Welsh beaver hat. Under his arm he carries a book._

DEACON ROBERTS. [_Speaking affectionately, pulling off his gloves, putting down book on counter, and beginning eagerly to touch the various groceries._] Essays on Babylon to-day, Hughie lad?

HUGH. [_Looking about for_ NELI _and speaking fretfully_.] Nay.

DEACON ROBERTS. [_Unwinding his m.u.f.fler._] Ye look as if ye had been in spiritual struggle.

HUGH. [_Drearily._] I have.

DEACON ROBERTS. Well, indeed, Hughie, 'tis neither the angel nor the archfiend here now, nor for me any struggle except the struggle to both live an' eat well--ho! ho! _an'_ eat well, I say--in Bala. [_Laughs jovially._] Ho! ho! not bad, Hughie lad--live _an'_ eat in Bala!

HUGH. [_Patiently._] With that m.u.f.fler around your head, deacon, ye are enough to frighten the devil out of Babylon.

DEACON ROBERTS. [_Unwinding last lap of m.u.f.fler._] Yiss, yiss, Hughie lad. But I dunno but ye will understand better if I call myself, let us say the angel with the sickle--ho! ho!--not the angel of fire, Hughie, but the angel with the sharp sickle gatherin' the cl.u.s.ters of the vines of the earth. [_Sudden change of subject._] Where is Neli?

HUGH. [_Vacantly._] I dunno--yiss, yiss, at market.

DEACON ROBERTS. [_Chuckling._] Dear, dear, at market--a fine day for marketing! An' my essays on the Flamin' Wickedness of Babylon, Hughie lad, how are they? Have ye finished them?

HUGH. Nay, not yet.

DEACON ROBERTS. [_Looking over counter, touching one article after another as he mentions it._] Pickled herrin'--grand but wet!

Pickles--dear me, yiss, Neli's--an' good! b.u.t.ter from Hafod-y-Porth--sweet as honey! [_He picks up a pat of b.u.t.ter and sniffs it, drawing in his breath loudly. He smiles with delight and lays down the b.u.t.ter. He takes off his hat and dusts it out inside. He puts his hat back on his head, smiles, chuckles, picks up b.u.t.ter, taps it thoughtfully with two fingers, smells it and puts down the pat lingeringly. He lifts up a loaf of_ NELI WILLIAMS'S _bread, glancing from it to the b.u.t.ter_.] Bread! Dear me! [_His eyes glance on to codfish._] American codfish [_picks up package and smacks his lips loudly_], dear _anwyl_, with potatoes--[_reads_] "Gloucester." [_Reaches out and touches eggs affectionately._] Eggs--are they fresh, Hugh?

HUGH. [_Dreamily._] I dunno. But I broke some of them. They might be!

[_Looks at floor._

DEACON ROBERTS. _Were_ they fresh?

HUGH. I dunno.

DEACON ROBERTS. [_Sharply._] Dunno? About _eggs_?

[_Picks up egg._

HUGH. [_Troubled._] Neli's hens laid them.

DEACON ROBERTS. I see, Neli's hens laid 'em, an' you broke 'em!

Admirable arrangement! [_Putting down the egg and turning toward the cheese, speaks on impatiently._] Well, indeed then, were the hens fresh?

HUGH. [_More cheerful._] Yiss, I think. Last week the basket was grand an' full of fresh eggs, but they disappeared, aye, they did indeed.