Dr. Jonathan | Page 4

if
your mother was to find me here she'd want to send me up to the
reformatory (she frees herself).
GEORGE. Where the deuce did you blow in from? (Regarding her with
admiration.) Is this the little Minnie Farrell who left Foxon Falls two
years ago? Gee whiz! aren't we smart!
MINNIE. Do you like me? I'm making good money, since the war.

GEORGE. Do I like you? What are you doing here?
MINNIE. My brother Bert's out there--he ain't working today. Mr.
Pindar sent for father, and we walked up here with him. Where is he?
GEORGE (nodding toward the study). In there. But what are you doing,
back in Foxon Falls?
MINNIE. Oh, visiting the scenes of my childhood.
GEORGE (tearing open the tissue paper from the parcel). Did you
make these for me? (He holds up a pair of grey woollen wristlets.)
MINNIE. Well, I wanted to do something for a soldier, and when I
heard you was going to France I thought you might as well have 'em.
GEORGE. How did you hear I was going?
MINNIE. Bert told me when I came home yesterday. They say it's cold
in the trenches, and nothing keeps the hands so warm as wristlets. I
know, because I've had 'em on winter mornings, early, when I was
going to work. Will you wear 'em, George?
GEORGE. Will I wear them! (He puts then on his wrists.) I'll never
take them off till the war's over.
MINNIE (pleased). You always were a josher!
GEORGE. Tell me, Minnie, why did you run away from me two years
ago?
MINNIE. Run away from you! I left because I couldn't stand this
village any longer. It was too quiet for me.
GEORGE. You're a josher! You went off while I was away, without
telling me you were going. And then, when I found out where you were
and hustled over to Newcastle in my car, you turned me down hard.
MINNIE. You didn't have a mortgage on me. There were plenty of girls
of your own kind at that house party you went to. I guess you made
love to them, too.
GEORGE. They weren't in the same class with you. You've got the
ginger.
MINNIE. I've still got the ginger, all right.
GEORGE. I thought you cared for me.
MINNIE. You always had the nerve, George.
GEORGE. You acted as if you did.
MINNIE. I'm a good actor. Say, what was there in it for me?--packing
tools in the Pindar shops, and you the son of my boss? You didn't want
nothing from me except what all men want, and you wouldn't have

wanted that long.
GEORGE. I was crazy about you.
MINNIE (her eyes falling on the travelling pillow and the pincushion;
picking theron: up in turn). I guess you told them that, too.
GEORGE (embarrassed). Oh, I'm popular enough when I'm going
away. They don't care anything about me.
MINNIE (indicating the wristlets). You don't want them,--I'll give 'em
to Bert.
GEORGE. No, you won't.
MINNIE. I was silly. But we had a good time while it lasted,--didn't we,
George?
(She evades him deftly, and picks up the life-preserving suit.)
What's this?--a full dress uniform?
GEORGE. When a submarine gets you, all you've got to do is to jump
overboard and blow this--
(He draws the siren from the pocket and starts to blow it, but she seizes
his hand.)
--and float around until a destroyer picks you up.
(Takes from another pocket a metal lunch box.)
This is for pate de foie gras sandwiches, and there's room in here--
(Indicating another pocket.)
--for a bottle of fizz. Come along with me, Minnie, ship as a Red Cross
nurse, and I'll buy you one. The Atlantic wouldn't be such a bad place,
with you,--and we wouldn't be in a hurry to blow the siren. You'd look
like a peach in a white costume, too.
MINNIE. Don't you like me in this?
GEORGE. Sure, but I'd like that better.
MINNIE. I'd make a good nurse, if I do say it myself. And I'd take
good care of you, George,--as good as any of them.
(She nods toward the pillow and pincushion.)
GEORGE. Better!
(He seizes her hands and attempts to draw her toward him.)
You used to let me!
MINNIE. That ain't any reason.
GEORGE. Just once, Minnie,--I'm going away.
MINNIE. No. I didn't mean to come in here--I just wanted to see what
you looked like in your uniform.

(She draws away from him, just as Dr. JONATHAN appears in the
doorway, lower right.)
Goodbye, George.
(She goes out through the doorway, upper right.)
(DR. JONATHAN may be almost any age,--in reality about thirty five.
His head is that of the thinker, high above the eyes. His face bears
evidence in its lines