The Straw Part 8

Act Two: Scene One

_The a.s.sembly room of the main building of the sanatorium--early in the morning of a fine day in June, four months later. The room is large, light and airy, painted a fresh white. On the left forward, an armchair. Farther back, a door opening on the main hall. To the rear of this door, a pianola on a raised platform. At back of the pianola, a door leading into the office. In the rear wall, a long series of French windows looking out on the lawn, with wooded hills in the far background. Shrubs in flower grow immediately outside the windows Inside, there is a row of potted plants. In the right wall, rear, four windows. Farther forward, a long well-filled bookcase, and a doorway leading into the dining-room. Following the walls, but about five feet out from them a stiff line of chairs placed closely against each other forms a sort of right-angled auditorium of which the large, square table that stands at centre, forward, would seem to be the stage._

_From the dining-room comes the clatter of dishes, the confused murmur of many voices, male and female--all the mingled sounds of a crowd of people at a meal._

_After the curtain rises,_ Doctor Stanton _enters from the hall, followed by a visitor,_ Mr. Sloan, _and the a.s.sistant physician,_ Doctor Simms. Doctor Stanton _is a handsome man of forty-five or so with a grave, care-lined, studious face lightened by a kindly, humorous smile. His grey eyes, saddened by the suffering they have witnessed, have the sympathetic quality of real understanding. The look they give is full of companionship, the courage-renewing, human companionship of a hope which is shared. He speaks with a slight Southern accent, soft and slurring._ Doctor Simms _is a tall, angular young man with a long sallow face and a sheepish, self-conscious grin._ Mr. Sloan _is fifty, short and stout, well dressed--one of the successful business men whose endowments have made the Hill Farm a possibility._

STANTON (_as they enter_). This is what you might see in the general a.s.sembly room, Mr. Sloan--where the patients of both s.e.xes are allowed to congregate together after meals, for diets, and in the evening.

SLOAN (_looking around him_). Couldn't be more pleasant, I must say--light and airy. (_He walks to where he can take a peep into the dining-room._) Ah, they're all at breakfast, I see.

STANTON (_smiling_). Yes, and with no lack of appet.i.te, let me tell you. (_With a laugh of proud satisfaction._) They'd sure eat us out of house and home at one sitting, if we'd give them the opportunity. (_To his a.s.sistant._) Wouldn't they, Doctor?

SIMMS (_with his abashed grin_). You bet they would, sir.

SLOAN (_with a smile_). That's fine. (_With a nod towards the dining-room._) The ones in there are the sure cures, aren't they?

STANTON (_a shadow coming over his face_). Strictly speaking, there are no sure cures in this disease, Mr. Sloan. When we permit a patient to return to take up his or her activities in the world, the patient is what we call an arrested case. The disease is overcome, quiescent; the wound is healed over. It's then up to the patient to so take care of himself that this condition remains permanent. It isn't hard for them to do this, usually. Just ordinary, bull-headed common sense--added to what they've learned here--is enough for their safety. And the precautions we teach them to take don't diminish their social usefulness in the slightest, either, as I can prove by our statistics of former patients. (_With a smile._) It's rather early in the morning for statistics, though.

SLOAN (_with a wave of the hand_). Oh, you needn't. Your reputation in that respect, Doctor---- (Stanton _inclines his head in acknowledgment._ Sloan _jerks his thumb towards the dining-room_.) But the ones in there _are_ getting well, aren't they?

STANTON. To all appearances, yes. You don't dare swear to it, though.

Sometimes, just when a case looks most favourably, there's a sudden, unforeseen breakdown, and they have to be sent back to bed, or, if it's very serious, back to the Infirmary again. These are the exceptions, however, not the rule. You can bank on most of those eaters being out in the world and usefully employed within six months.

SLOAN. You couldn't say more than that (_Abruptly._) But--the unfortunate ones--do you have many deaths?

STANTON (_with a frown_). No. We're under a very hard, almost cruel imperative which prevents that. If, at the end of six months, a case shows no response to treatment, continues to go down hill--if, in a word, it seems hopeless--we send them away, to one of the State Farms if they have no private means. (_Apologetically._) You see, this sanatorium is overcrowded and has a long waiting list, most of the time, of others who demand their chance for life. We have to make places for them. We have no time to waste on incurables. There are other places for them--and sometimes, too, a change is beneficial and they pick up in new surroundings. You never can tell. But we're bound by the rule. It may seem cruel--but it's as near justice to all concerned as we can come.

SLOAN (_soberly_). I see. (_His eyes fall on the pianola in surprise._) Ah--a piano.

STANTON (_replying to the other's thought_). Yes, some patients play and sing. (_With a smile._) If you'd call the noise they make by those terms. They'd dance, too, if we permitted it. There's only one big taboo--Home, Sweet Home. We forbid that--for obvious reasons.

SLOAN. I see. (_With a final look around._) Did I understand you to say this is the only place where the s.e.xes are permitted to mingle?

STANTON. Yes, sir.

SLOAN (_with a smile_). Not much chance for a love affair then.

STANTON (_seriously_). We do our best to prevent them. We even have a strict rule which allows us to step in and put a stop to any intimacy which grows beyond the casual. People up here, Mr. Sloan, are expected to put aside all ideas except the one--getting well.

SLOAN (_somewhat embarra.s.sed_). A d.a.m.n good rule, too, I should say, under the circ.u.mstances.

STANTON (_with a laugh_). Yes, we're strictly anti-Cupid, sir, from top to bottom, (_Turning to the door to the hall._) And now, if you don't mind, Mr. Sloan, I'm going to turn you loose to wander about the grounds on an unconducted tour. To-day is my busy morning--Sat.u.r.day. We weigh each patient immediately after breakfast.

SLOAN. Every week?

STANTON. Every Sat.u.r.day. You see we depend on fluctuations in weight to tell us a lot about the patient's condition. If they gain, or stay at normal, all's usually well. If they lose week after week without any reason we can definitely point to, we keep careful watch. It's a sign that something's wrong. We're forewarned by it and on our guard.

SLOAN (_with a smile_). Well, I'm certainly learning things. (_He turns to the door._) And you just shoo me off wherever you please and go on with the good work. I'll be glad of a ramble in the open on such a glorious morning.

STANTON. After the weighing is over, sir, I'll be free to----

(_His words are lost as the three go out. A moment later,_ Eileen _enters from the dining-room. She has grown stouter, her face has more of a healthy, out-of-door colour, but there is still about her the suggestion of being worn down by a burden too oppressive for her courage. She is dressed in blouse and dark skirt. She goes to the armchair, left forward, and sinks down on it. She is evidently in a state of nervous depression; she twists her fingers together in her lap; her eyes stare sadly before her; she clenches her upper lip with her teeth to prevent its trembling.

She has hardly regained control over herself when_ Stephen Murray _comes in hurriedly from the dining-room and, seeing her at his first glance, walks quickly over to her chair. He is the picture of health, his figure has filled out solidly, his tanned face beams with suppressed exultation._)

MURRAY (_excitedly_). Eileen! I saw you leave your table. I've something to tell you. I didn't get a chance last night after the mail came. You'd gone to the cottage. Just listen, Eileen--it's too good to be true--but on that mail--guess what?

EILEEN (_forgetting her depression--with an excited smile_). I know!

You've sold your story!

MURRAY (_triumphantly_). Go to the head of the cla.s.s. What d'you know about that for luck! My first, too--and only the third magazine I sent it to! (_He cuts a joyful caper._)

EILEEN (_happily_). Isn't that wonderful, Stephen! But I knew all the time you would. The story's so good.

MURRAY. Well, you might have known, but I didn't think there was a chance in the world. And as for being good--(_With superior air_)--wait till I turn loose with the real big ones, the kind I'm going to write.

Then I'll make them sit up and take notice. They can't stop me now.

This money gives me a chance to sit back and do what I please for a while. And I haven't told you the best part. The editor wrote saying how much he liked the yarn and asked me for more of the same kind.

EILEEN. And you've the three others about the same person--just as good, too! Why, you'll sell them all! (_She clasps her hands delightedly._)

MURRAY. And I can send them out right away. They're all typed, thanks to you. That's what's brought me luck, I know. I never had a bit by myself. (_Then, after a quick glance around to make sure they are alone, he bends down and kisses her._) There! A token of grat.i.tude--even if it is against the rules.

EILEEN (_flushing--with timid happiness_). Stephen! You mustn't!

They'll see.

MURRAY (_boldly_). Let them!

EILEEN. But you know--they've warned us against being so much together, already.

MURRAY. Let them! We'll be out of this prison soon. (Eileen _shakes her head sadly, but he does not notice._) Oh, I wish you could leave when I do. We'd have some celebration together.

EILEEN (_her lips trembling_). I was thinking last night--that you'd soon be going away. You look so well. Do you think--they'll let you go--soon?

MURRAY. You bet I do. I'm bound to go now. It's ridiculous keeping me here when I'm as healthy as a pig. I caught Stanton in the hall last night and asked him if I could go.

EILEEN (_anxiously_). What did he say?

MURRAY. He only smiled and said: "We'll see if you gain weight to-morrow." As if that mattered now! Why, I'm way above normal as it is! But you know Stanton--always putting you off. But I could tell by the way he said it he'd be willing to consider----

EILEEN (_slowly_). Then--if you gain to-day---

MURRAY. He'll let me go. Yes, I know he will. I'm going to insist on it.

EILEEN. Then--you'll leave----?

MURRAY. Right away. The minute I can get packed.