Fifty Contemporary One-Act Plays Part 168

_A man of forty enters, leaving the bedroom door open behind him.

His small head and childish face, on a tall, thin, and extremely erect body, resemble those of a species of putty-like rubber doll whose head may be reshaped by the hand. He wears a winter cap, blue flannel shirt, well-worn trousers with suspenders, and sneakers that were once white. Outside shirt sleeves are rolled to the elbow; undershirt sleeves are not. His shoes make no noise; nevertheless, he comes on tiptoe, his eyes fixed on the shelves.

For a moment he stops and glances into the room he has just quitted. Satisfied, he squats before the shelves. He hesitates, then quickly lifts from a lower shelf an inverted cooking vessel, and grasps a small tin box which was hidden under it. He inspects the box, trying to decide whether he can pry open its lock._]

[_The voice of an old, infirm man in the adjoining room_]: Seth?

SETH [_alarmed; starts to return the box to the shelf_]. Yes, Pa? [_His voice is pitched high._]

PA [_querulously_]. What yuh doin'?

SETH. Jest settin'.

PA. Don't yuh go near my tin box 'til I'm dead.

[_Seth makes no answer._]

PA. D'yuh hear?

SETH. I hear.

PA. I won't heve no one know nothin' 'bout my last will an' testament 'til I'm dead.

[_There is a pause. Seth is regarding the box intently._]

PA. Seth?

SETH [_peevishly_]. What d'yuh want?

PA. Bring me a drink.

SETH. There ain't no more water in the pail.

PA. There's lots in the well this spring.

[_A pause. Seth continues his scrutiny of the lock._]

PA. My throat's burnin' up.

SETH. Well, maybe I kin find a drop. [_Puts the box on the shelf and re-covers it; in doing so makes a slight noise._]

PA. What's that noise?

SETH. I'm gettin' yuh a drink!

[_Seth strolls to the stove, lifts the top from the kettle, and looks inside. He finds a tin cup and fills it with water. Looking into the kettle again, he sees there is little water left. Why make a trip to the pump necessary? Back into the kettle goes some of the water. Cup in hand, he moves toward the bedroom. He reaches the door when a sagging bellied man enters from the yard. It is Lon, the elder, shorter brother. His face has become molded into an expressionless stare, and his every movement seems to be made with an effort. An abused man, Lon, the most ill-treated fellow in the world. At least, so he is ever at pains to have all understand. He wears an old felt hat, cotton shirt, badly patched trousers, suspenders attached to the b.u.t.tons of his trousers with string, and shoes that are almost soleless. His shirt, stained with sweat, is opened at the throat, revealing red flannel underwear. When Seth sees Lon he immediately closes the bedroom door, silently turns the key in the lock, and puts the key in his pocket. For a moment the men stand looking at each other, reminding one of two roosters. Then Seth strolls to the stove, pours the water into the kettle, and planks himself down in the rocker. Lon glances once or twice at the bedroom door, but moves not to it. He watches Seth suspiciously. Finally he speaks._]

LON [_in an expressionless drawl_]. I hear Pa's dyin'.

SETH. Yuh hear right.

LON [_with a motion of his head toward the bedroom_]. Is he in there?

SETH. Yes.

[_Lon hesitates, then moves slowly toward Pa's room. An idea strikes Seth suddenly and he interrupts Lon's progress._]

SETH. He's asleep.

[_Lon stops. Seth fills his pipe and lights it. Lon takes his corncob from his pocket and coughs meaningly. Seth looks at Lon, sees what he wants, but does not offer him tobacco. Lon puts his pipe back in his pocket, moves to the table, sits, and sighs. He crosses his right foot so Seth sees what was once the sole of his shoe._]

SETH. What did yuh come here fur?

LON. 'Cause Pa's dyin'.

SETH. Yuh never come when he was about.

LON. Wall, no one ever seed yuh a settin' here much.

SETH [_fleeringly_]. Suppose yuh want t' know what he's left yuh.

LON. Wall, ... it warn't comfortable comin' three miles an' a quarter on a day like this un.

SETH [_cackles_]. Sand's hot on yer bare naked feet, ain't it?

LON [_moves his feet_]. Yuh kin talk about my holey boots. If I didn't heve no mouths but my own t' feed I guess I could buy new ones too. So there, Seth Polland!

SETH. Jacobs offered yuh a job at the fisheries same as me.

LON. It's too fur t' hoof it twict a day.

SETH. Yuh could sleep at the fisheries.

LON. I got t' look after my kids.

SETH [_grins_]. 'Tain't my fault yuh've kids.

LON [_threateningly_]. Don't yuh talk 'bout that! [_Pause._] Yer woman had t' leave yuh. [_Laughs._] Yuh didn't give her 'nough t' eat.

SETH [_indifferently_]. She warn't no good.

LON. She had t' leave yuh same as Ma left Pa twenty years ago. Pa's dyin' fur sure?

SETH. Who told yuh?

LON. Ma.

SETH [_greatly surprised_]. Ma? [_suspiciously._] What you got t' do with her?

LON. I was pa.s.sin' her place this mornin'. Furst time I spoke t' her in a year.