The Melting-Pot Part 9

DAVID Why, what has the poor old la----?

KATHLEEN I don't be saltin' the mate and I do be mixin' the crockery and----!

DAVID [_Gently_]

I know, I know--but, Kathleen, remember she was brought up to these things from childhood. And her father was a Rabbi.

KATHLEEN What's that? A priest?

DAVID A sort of priest. In Russia he was a great man. Her husband, too, was a mighty scholar, and to give him time to study the holy books she had to do ch.o.r.es all day for him and the children.

KATHLEEN Oh, those priests!

DAVID [_Smiling_]

No, _he_ wasn't a priest. But he took sick and died and the children left her--went to America or heaven or other far-off places--and she was left all penniless and alone.

KATHLEEN Poor ould lady.

DAVID Not so old yet, for she was married at fifteen.

KATHLEEN Poor young crathur!

DAVID But she was still the good angel of the congregation--sat up with the sick and watched over the dead.

KATHLEEN Saints alive! And not scared?

DAVID No, nothing scared her--except me. I got a broken-down fiddle and used to play it even on _Shabbos_--I was very naughty. But she was so lovely to me. I still remember the heavenly taste of a piece of _Motso_ she gave me dipped in raisin wine! Pa.s.sover cake, you know.

KATHLEEN [_Proudly_]

Oh, I know _Motso_.

DAVID [_Smacks his lips, repeats_]

Heavenly!

KATHLEEN Sure, I must tashte it.

DAVID [_Shaking his head, mysteriously_]

Only little boys get that tashte.

KATHLEEN That's quare.

DAVID [_Smiling_]

Very quare. And then one day my uncle sent the old lady a ticket to come to America. But it is not so happy for her here because you see my uncle has to be near his theatre and can't live in the Jewish quarter, and so n.o.body understands her, and she sits all the livelong day alone--alone with her book and her religion and her memories----

KATHLEEN [_Breaking down_]

Oh, Mr. David!

DAVID And now all this long, cold, snowy evening she'll sit by the fire alone, thinking of her dead, and the fire will sink lower and lower, and she won't be able to touch it, because it's the holy Sabbath, and there'll be no kind Kathleen to brighten up the grey ashes, and then at last, sad and shivering, she'll creep up to her room without a candlestick, and there in the dark and the cold----

KATHLEEN [_Hysterically bursting into tears, dropping her parcel, and untying her bonnet-strings_]

Oh, Mr. David, I won't mix the crockery, I won't----

DAVID [_Heartily_]

Of course you won't. Good night.

[_He slips out hurriedly through the street-door as KATHLEEN throws off her bonnet, and the curtain falls quickly. As it rises again, she is seen strenuously poking the fire, illumined by its red glow._]

Act II

_The same scene on an afternoon a month later. DAVID is discovered at his desk, scribbling music in a fever of enthusiasm. MENDEL, dressed in his best, is playing softly on the piano, watching DAVID. After an instant or two of indecision, he puts down the piano-lid with a bang and rises decisively._

MENDEL David!

DAVID [_Putting up his left hand_]

Please, please---- [_He writes feverishly._]

MENDEL But I want to talk to you seriously--at once.

DAVID I'm just re-writing the Finale. Oh, such a splendid inspiration!

[_He writes on._]

MENDEL [_Shrugs his shoulders and reseats himself at piano. He plays a bar or two. Looks at watch impatiently. Resolutely_]

David, I've got wonderful news for you. Miss Revendal is bringing somebody to see you, and we have hopes of getting you sent to Germany to study composition.

[_DAVID does not reply, but writes rapidly on._]

Why, he hasn't heard a word!

[_He shouts._]

David!

DAVID [_Writing on_]

I can't, uncle. I _must_ put it down while that glorious impression is fresh.

MENDEL What impression? You only went to the People's Alliance.

DAVID Yes, and there I saw the Jewish children--a thousand of 'em--saluting the Flag.

[_He writes on._]

MENDEL Well, what of that?

DAVID What of that?

[_He throws down his quill and jumps up._]

But just fancy it, uncle. The Stars and Stripes unfurled, and a thousand childish voices, piping and foreign, fresh from the lands of oppression, hailing its fluttering folds. I cried like a baby.

MENDEL I'm afraid you _are_ one.

DAVID Ah, but if you had heard them--"Flag of our Great Republic"--the words have gone singing at my heart ever since-- [_He turns to the flag over the door._]