Plays Part 7

ANTHONY: Oh, I do. (fervently) I do. Harm was near, and that woke her up.

HARRY: And what about the harm to-(tapping his chest) Do roses get pneumonia?

ANTHONY: Oh, yes-yes, indeed they do. Why, Mr Archer, look at Miss Claire herself. Hasn't she given her heat to the roses?

HARRY: (pulling the rug around him, preparing for the blizzard) She has the fire within.

ANTHONY: (delighted) Now isn't that true! How well you said it. (with a glare for this appreciation, HARRY opens the door. It blows away from him) Please do close the door!

HARRY: (furiously) You think it is the aim of my life to hold it open?

ANTHONY: (getting hold of it) Growing things need an even temperature, (while saying this he gets the man out into the snow)

(ANTHONY consults the thermometer, not as pleased this time as he was before. He then looks minutely at two of the plants-one is a rose, the other a flower without a name because it has not long enough been a flower. Peers into the hearts of them. Then from a drawer under a shelf, takes two paper bags, puts one over each of these flowers, closing them down at the bottom. Again the door blows wildly in, also HATTIE, a maid with a basket.)

ANTHONY: What do you mean-blowing in here like this? Mrs Archer has ordered-

HATTIE: Mr Archer has ordered breakfast served here, (she uncovers the basket and takes out an electric toaster)

ANTHONY: Breakfast-here? Eat-here? Where plants grow?

HATTIE: The plants won't poison him, will they? (at a loss to know what to do with things, she puts the toaster under the strange vine at the back, whose leaves lift up against the gla.s.s which has frost leaves on the outer side)

ANTHONY: (s.n.a.t.c.hing it away) You-you think you can cook eggs under the Edge Vine?

HATTIE: I guess Mr Archer's eggs are as important as a vine. I guess my work's as important as yours.

ANTHONY: There's a million people like you-and like Mr Archer. In all the world there is only one Edge Vine.

HATTIE: Well, maybe one's enough. It don't look like nothin', anyhow.

ANTHONY: And you've not got the wit to know that that's why it's the Edge Vine.

HATTIE: You want to look out, Anthony. You talk nutty. Everybody says so.

ANTHONY: Miss Claire don't say so.

HATTIE: No, because she's-

ANTHONY: You talk too much!

(Door opens, admitting HARRY; after looking around for the best place to eat breakfast, moves a box of earth from the table.)

HARRY: Just give me a hand, will you, Hattie?

(They bring it to the open s.p.a.ce and he and HATTIE arrange breakfast things, HATTIE with triumphant glances at the distressed ANTHONY)

ANTHONY: (deciding he must act) Mr Archer, this is not the place to eat breakfast!

HARRY: Dead wrong, old boy. The place that has heat is the place to eat breakfast. (to HATTIE) Tell the other gentlemen-I heard Mr Demming up, and Mr Edgeworthy, if he appears, that as long as it is such a pleasant morning, we're having breakfast outside. To the conservatory for coffee.

(HATTIE giggles, is leaving.)

And let's see, have we got everything? (takes the one shaker, shakes a little pepper on his hand. Looks in vain for the other shaker) And tell Mr Demming to bring the salt.

ANTHONY: But Miss Claire will be very angry.

HARRY: I am very angry. Did I choose to eat my breakfast at the other end of a blizzard?

ANTHONY: (an exclamation of horror at the thermometer) The temperature is falling. I must report. (he punches the buzzer, takes up the phone) Miss Claire? It is Anthony. A terrible thing has happened. Mr Archer-what? Yes, a terrible thing.-Yes, it is about Mr Archer.-No-no, not dead. But here. He is here. Yes, he is well, he seems well, but he is eating his breakfast. Yes, he is having breakfast served out here-for himself, and the other gentlemen are to come too.-Well, he seemed to be annoyed because the heat had been turned off from the house. But the door keeps opening-this stormy wind blowing right over the plants. The temperature has already fallen.-Yes, yes. I thought you would want to come.

(ANTHONY opens the trap-door and goes below. HARRY looks disapprovingly down into this openness at his feet, returns to his breakfast. ANTHONY comes up, bearing a box.)

HARRY: (turning his face away) Phew! What a smell.

ANTHONY: Yes. Fertilizer has to smell.

HARRY: Well, it doesn't have to smell up my breakfast!

ANTHONY: (with a patient sense of order) The smell belongs here. (he and the smell go to the inner room)

(The outer door opens just enough to admit CLAIRE-is quickly closed. With CLAIRE in a room another kind of aliveness is there.)

CLAIRE: What are you doing here?

HARRY: Getting breakfast. (all the while doing so)

CLAIRE: I'll not have you in my place!

HARRY: If you take all the heat then you have to take me.

CLAIRE: I'll show you how I have to take you. (with her hands begins scooping upon him the soil ANTHONY has prepared)

HARRY: (jumping up, laughing, pinning down her arms, putting his arms around her) Claire-be decent. What harm do I do here?

CLAIRE: You pull down the temperature.

HARRY: Not after I'm in.

CLAIRE: And you told Tom and d.i.c.k to come and make it uneven.

HARRY: Tom and d.i.c.k are our guests. We can't eat where it's warm and leave them to eat where it's cold.

CLAIRE: I don't see why not.

HARRY: You only see what you want to see.

CLAIRE: That's not true. I wish it were. No; no, I don't either. (she is disturbed-that troubled thing which rises from within, from deep, and takes CLAIRE. She turns to the Edge Vine, examines. Regretfully to ANTHONY, who has come in with a plant) It's turning back, isn't it?