Contemporary One-Act Plays Part 84

BETTY. [_Protesting._] Nay, father, why consider it at all? Marriage is yet a great way off. Mayhap I shall never leave thee.

COTTON. Thou little thinkest that I may be suddenly called on to leave _thee_. The Good Word cautions us to boast not ourselves of the morrow, for we know not what a day may bring forth.

BETTY. [_Dropping her knitting._] Father, thou art not feeling well.

Perhaps----

COTTON. Nay, child, be not alarmed. 'Tis but a most necessary lesson to be learned and laid up in the heart. I will not always be with thee and I would like to be comfortably a.s.sured of thy future welfare before I go.

BETTY. [_Picking her knitting up._] Be comfortably a.s.sured, then, I prithee; I have no fears.

COTTON. [_Bringing his arm down forcibly on the arm of the chair._] Aye!

There it is. Thou hast no fears. Would that thou had'st some! [_Looks up at the portrait._] Had thy prudent and virtuous mother only lived to point the way, I might be spared this anxiety; but, beset by diverse difficulties in establishing the kingdom of G.o.d in this country, and sorely hara.s.sed by many hardships and by evil men, I fear me I have not propounded to thee much that I ought.

BETTY. In what then is mine education lacking? Have I not all that is fitting and proper for a maiden to know?

COTTON. [_Perplexed._] I know not. I have done my best, but thou hast not the proper att.i.tude of mind befitting a maiden about to enter the married estate.

BETTY. [_Protesting._] Nay, but I am not about to enter the married estate.

COTTON. It is time.

BETTY. [_Mockingly pleading._] Entreat me not to leave thee, father, nor forsake thee; for whither thou goest I will go, and whither----

COTTON. [_Interrupting sternly._] Betty! It ill befitteth a daughter of mine to quote the Scriptures with such seeming irreverence.--I would not be parted from thee, yet I would that thou wert promised to some G.o.dly and upright soul that would guide thee yet more surely in the paths of righteousness. There be many such.

BETTY. Yea, too many.

COTTON. What meanest thou?

BETTY. One were one too many when I would have none.

COTTON. [_Shaking his head._] Ah. Betty, Betty! When wilt thou be serious? There is a goodly youth among the friends surrounding thee whom I have often marked, both on account of his G.o.dly demeanor and simple wisdom.

BETTY. [_Nodding._] Yea, simple.

COTTON. I speak of Adonijah Wigglesworth, a most estimable young gentleman, an acquaintance whom thou would'st do well to cultivate.

BETTY. Yea, cultivate.

COTTON. What thinkest thou?

BETTY. A sod too dense for any ploughshare. My wit would break in the turning.

COTTON. His is a strong nature, born to drive and not be driven. There is not such another, nay, not in the whole of Boston.

BETTY. Nay. I have lately heard there be many such!

COTTON. [_Testily._] Mayhap thou wouldst name a few.

BETTY. [_Musingly, holds up her left hand with fingers outspread._] Aye, that I can. [_Checks off one on the little finger._] There be Marcus Ainslee----

COTTON. A goodly youth that hath an eye for books.

BETTY. One eye, sayest thou? Nay, four; and since I am neither morocco bound nor edged with gilt, let us consign him to the shelf wherein he findeth fullest compensation.

COTTON. How now? A man of action, then, should appeal to thy brash tastes. What sayest thou to Jeremiah Wadsworth?

BETTY. Too brash and rash for me [_checking off that candidate on the next finger_], and I'll have none of him. There's Percy Wayne.

COTTON. Of the bluest blood in Boston.

BETTY. Yet that be not everything [_checks off another finger_]--and Jonas Appleby----

COTTON. He hath an eye to worldly goods----

BETTY. [_Quickly._] Especially the larder. To marry him would be an everlasting round between the tankard and the kettle. [_Checks him off._] Nay, let me look yet farther--James Endicott. [_Checking._]

COTTON. Aye, there might be a lad for thee; birth, breeding, a well-favored countenance, and most agreeable.

BETTY. Yea, most agreeable--unto himself. 'Twere a pity to disturb such unanimity. Therefore, let us pa.s.s on. Take Charles Manning, an you please----

COTTON. It pleaseth me not! I know the ilk; his father before him a devoted servant of the devil and King Charles. With others of his kind he hath brought dissension among the young men of Harvard, many of whom are dedicated to the service of the Lord, with his wicked apparel and unG.o.dly fashion of wearing long hair after the manner of Russians and barbarous Indians. Many there be with him brought up in such pride as doth in no ways become the service of the Lord. The devil himself hath laid hold on our young men, so that they do evaporate senseless, useless, noisy impertinency wherever they may be; and now it has e'en got out in the pulpits of the land, to the great grief and fear of many G.o.dly hearts.

[_He starts to his feet and paces the floor._

BETTY. [_Standing upright._] But Charles----

COTTON. [_Interrupting._] Mention not that scapegrace in my hearing.

BETTY. [_Still persisting._] But, father, truly thou knowest not----

COTTON. [_Almost savagely, while_ BETTY _retreats to a safe distance_.]

Name him not. I will not have it. Compared with Adonijah he is a reed shaken in the winds, whereas Adonijah resembleth a tree planted by the river of waters.

BETTY. [_Who has been looking out of the window._] Converse of the devil and thou wilt behold his horns. Even now he approacheth the knocker.

[_The knocker sounds._

COTTON. [_Sternly._] Betake thyself to thine own chamber with thine unseemly tongue, which so ill befitteth a maid.

[BETTY _is very demure, with head slightly bent and downcast eyes; but the moment_ COTTON _turns she glances roguishly after his retreating form; then while her glance revolves about the room, she starts slightly as her gaze falls upon the clock. A smile of mischievous delight flits over her countenance as she tiptoes in_ COTTON'S _wake until the clock is reached_. COTTON, _unsuspecting, meanwhile, proceeds to do his duty as host, with never a backward glance. While he is out in the hall_ BETTY, _with a lingering smile of triumph, climbs into the clock and cautiously peeks forth as her father opens the door and ushers in_ ADONIJAH, _whereupon the door softly closes_.

ADONIJAH. Good-morrow, reverend sir.

COTTON. Enter, and doubly welcome.

ADONIJAH. I would inquire whether thy daughter Betty is within.