Contemporary One-Act Plays Part 72

DEACON ROBERTS. 'Tis sweet to be clean, Mrs. Jones the Wash.

MRS. JONES THE WASH. [_Laughing._] Yiss, yiss, Deacon Roberts, there has many a chapel been built out of a washtub, an' many a prayer risen up from the suds!

DEACON ROBERTS. [_Solemnly._] Aye, Mrs. Jones the Wash, 'tis holy work, washin' is very holy work.

MRS. JONES THE WASH. [_Touched._] Yiss, yiss, I thank ye, Deacon Roberts.

DEACON ROBERTS. Well, I must be steppin' homeward now.

NELI. [_Firmly._] Nay, Mr. Roberts. I am searchin' on the shelf where I think that American Indian relish is. Ye act as if ye had some cause to hurry, Mr. Roberts. Wait a moment, if you please.

DEACON ROBERTS. Well, indeed, but I am keepin' Mrs. Jones the Wash waitin'!

NELI. [_To_ MRS. JONES.] Ye are in no haste?

MRS. JONES THE WASH. [_Thoroughly comfortable and happy._] Nay, mum, no haste at all. I am havin' a rest, an' 'tis grand an' warm here whatever.

NELI. [_Maliciously to_ DEACON.] Does it feel hot by the fire?

DEACON ROBERTS. [_Experiencing novel sensations on the crown of his bald head._] Mrs. Williams, mum, 'tis hot in Y Gegin, but as with Llanycil Churchyard, Y Gegin is only the portal to a hotter an' a bigger place where scorchin' flames burn forever an' forever. Proverbs saith, "h.e.l.l an' destruction are never full." What, then, shall be the fate of women who have no wisdom, Mrs. Williams, mum?

NELI. [_Searching for relish._] Aye, what? Well, indeed, the men must know.

MRS. JONES THE WASH. [_Nodding her head appreciatively at_ HUGH.] Such eloquence, Mr. Williams! Aye, who in chapel has such grand theology as Deacon Roberts!

[_She sighs. The bell rings violently again, and_ TOM MORRIS THE SHEEP _enters. He is dressed in gaiters, a shepherd's cloak, etc., etc. He carries a crook in his hand. He is a grizzle-haired, rosy-faced old man, raw-boned, strong, and awkward, with a half-earnest, half-foolish look._

NELI. [_Looking around._] Aye, Tom Morris the Sheep, come in an' sit down. I am lookin' out an American Indian relish for the deacon.

TOM MORRIS THE SHEEP. Yiss, mum. I am wantin' to buy a little tobacco, mum. 'Tis lonely upon the hillsides with the sheep, whatever.

DEACON ROBERTS. [_Hastily._] I must go now, Mrs. Williams, mum, an' ye can wait on Tom Morris.

TOM MORRIS THE SHEEP. Nay, nay, Mr. Roberts, sir, there is no haste.

NELI. [_To_ TOM MORRIS.] Sit down there by the door, if you please.

[TOM MORRIS _seats himself on other side of door by back centre_.

TOM MORRIS THE SHEEP. Yiss, mum. [_Touches his forelock to_ MRS. JONES THE WASH.] A grand day for the clothes, Mrs. Jones, mum.

MRS. JONES THE WASH. Yiss, yiss, an' as I was just sayin' 'tis a meltin'

day for the soap!

NELI. [_Significantly._] An' perhaps 'tis a meltin' day for somethin'

besides soap! [_She looks at_ DEACON.

HUGH. [_Earnestly._] Yiss, yiss, for souls, meltin' for souls, I am hopin'. [_Picking up the book from the little three-legged table, and speaking to the_ DEACON.] They are enlargin' the burial ground in Llanycil Churchyard--achoo! achoo!

DEACON ROBERTS. [_Slyly moving a step away from fire._] They're only enlargin' h.e.l.l, Hughie lad, an' in that place they always make room for all. [_He casts a stabbing look at_ NELI.

MRS. JONES THE WASH. [_Nodding head._] True, true, room for all!

[_Chuckling._] But 'twould be a grand place to dry the clothes in!

DEACON ROBERTS. [_Severely._] Mrs. Jones, mum, h.e.l.l is paved with words of lightness.

HUGH. [_Looking up from book, his face expressing delight._] Deacon Roberts, I have searched for the place of h.e.l.l, but one book sayeth one thing, an' another another. Where is h.e.l.l?

TOM MORRIS THE SHEEP. Aye, where is h.e.l.l?

[_The bell rings violently. All start except_ NELI. MRS. JENKINS THE MIDWIFE _enters. She is an old woman, white-haired, and with a commanding, somewhat disagreeable expression on her face. She wears a cloak and black Welsh beaver and walks with a stick._

NELI. Yiss, yiss, Mrs. Jenkins the Midwife, I am just lookin' out a relish for the Deacon. Sit down by the fire, please.

MRS. JENKINS THE MIDWIFE. [_Seating herself on other side of fire._]

Aye, mum, I've come for pins; I'm in no haste.

NELI. is it Jane Elin's baby?

MRS. JENKINS THE MIDWIFE. Aye, Jane Elin's, an' 'tis my sixth hundredth birth.

HUGH. We're discussing the place of h.e.l.l, Mrs. Jenkins, mum.

MRS. JENKINS THE MIDWIFE. Well, indeed, I have seen the place of h.e.l.l six hundred times then. [_Coughs and nods her head up and down over stick._] Heaven an' h.e.l.l I'm thinkin' we have with us here.

HUGH. Nay, nay, how could that be? Tell us where is the place of h.e.l.l, Deacon Roberts.

[_All listen with the most intense interest._

DEACON ROBERTS. [_Nodding._] Aye, the place of h.e.l.l-- [_stopping suddenly, a terrified look on his face, as the b.u.t.ter slides against the forward rim of his hat, almost knocking it off, then going on with neck rigid and head straight up_] to me is known where is that place--their way is dark an' slippery; they go down into the depths, an' their soul is melted because of trouble.

NELI. [_Pausing sceptically._] Aye, 'tis my idea of h.e.l.l whatever with souls meltin', Mr. Roberts!

HUGH. [_Tense with expectation._] Tell us where is that place!

DEACON ROBERTS. [_Neck rigid, head unmoved, and voice querulous._] Yiss, yiss. [_Putting his hand up and letting it down quickly._] Ahem! Ye believe that it rains in Bala?

HUGH. [_Eyes on_ DEACON, _in childlike faith_.] I do.

MRS. JENKINS THE MIDWIFE. Yiss, yiss, before an' after every birth whatever!

MRS. JONES THE WASH. Yiss, yiss, who would know better than I that it rains in Bala?

TOM MORRIS THE SHEEP. Aye, amen, it rains in Bala upon the hills an' in the valleys.

DEACON ROBERTS. Ye believe that it can rain in Bala both when the moon is full an' when 'tis new?

HUGH. [_Earnestly._] I do.