Dr. Jonathan | Page 6

of the
trenches as a boudoir.
AUGUSTA. Such nice girls! I wish he'd marry one of them. Who made
you the wristlets? I hadn't seen them.
GEORGE (taking of the wristlets and putting them in his bag). Oh, I
can't give her away. I was--just trying them on, to see if they fitted.
AUGUSTA. When did they come?
GEORGE (glancing at DR. JONATHAN). Er--this morning.
(Enter ASHER and TIMOTHY from the study, left. ASHER is
evidently wrought up from his talk with TIMOTHY.)
ASHER. Remember, Timothy, I rely on sensible men like you to put a
stop to this nonsense.
AUGUSTA. Asher, here's Jonathan.
ASHER. Oh! (He goes up to DR. JONATHAN and takes his hand,
though it is quite evident that his mind is still on the trouble in the
shops). Glad to see you back in Foxon Falls, Jonathan. I heard you'd
arrived, and would have dropped in on you, but things are in a muddle
here just now.
DR. JONATHAN. Not only here, but everywhere.
ASHER. You're right. The country's going to the dogs. I don't know
what will straighten it out.
DR. JONATHAN. Intelligence, open-mindedness, cooperation, Asher.
ASHER (arrested: looking at him). Hum!

DR. JONATHAN (leaving him and going up to TIMOTHY). You don't
remember me, Timothy?
TIMOTHY. Sure and I do, sir,--though you were only a little lad. You
mind me of your father,--your smile, like. He was the grand, simple
man! It's happy I am to see you back in Foxon Falls.
DR. JONATHAN. Yes, I've been ordered to the rear.
TIMOTHY. The rear, is it? I'm thinking we'll be fighting this war in
Foxon Falls, too.
DR. JONATHAN. Yes, much of it will be fought behind the battle
lines.
AUGUSTA. You think the Germans will come over here?
DR. JONATHAN. No, but the issue is over here already.
(DR. JONATHAN picks up her ball of wool, which has fallen to the
floor.)
AUGUSTA (looking at him apprehensively: puzzled). Thank you,
Jonathan.
(She turns to TIMOTHY, who has started toward the door, lower right)
Wait a moment, Timothy, I want to ask you about your children. What
do you hear from Minnie? I always took an interest in her, you know,--
especially when she was in the tool packing department of the shops,
and I had her in my Bible class. I appreciated your letting her come,
--an Irishman and a Catholic as you are.
TIMOTHY. The Church has given me up as a heathen, ma'am, when I
married your cook, and she a Protestant.
AUGUSTA. I've been worried about Minnie since she went to
Newcastle. She has so much vitality, and I'm afraid she's pleasure
loving though she seemed to take to religion with her whole soul. And
where's Jamesy?
TIMOTHY. Jamesy, is it? It's gone to the bad entirely he is, with the
drink. He left the shops when the twelve-hour shifts began--wherever
he's at now. It's home Minnie came from Newcastle yesterday, ma'am,
for a visit,--she's outside there now, with Bert,--they walked along with
me.
AUGUSTA. Bring them in, I want to see them,--especially Minnie. I
must say I'm surprised she should have come home without calling on
me.
TIMOTHY. I'll get them, ma'am.

(He goes out of the door, upper right. GEORGE, who has been
palpably ill at ease during this conversation, now makes for the door,
lower right.)
AUGUSTA. Where are you going, my dear?
GEORGE (halting). I thought I'd look around and see if I'd forgotten
anything, mother.
AUGUSTA. Stay with us,--there's plenty of time.
(TIMOTHY returns through the doorway, upper right, with BERT, but
without MINNIE.)
TIMOTHY. It's disappeared entirely she is, ma'am,--here one minute
and there the next, the way with young people nowadays. And she's
going back to Newcastle this afternoon, to her job at the Wire Works.
AUGUSTA. I must see her before she goes. I feel in a measure
responsible for her. You'll tell her?
TIMOTHY. I'll tell her.
AUGUSTA. How are you getting along, Bert?
BERT. Very well, thank you, Mrs. Pindar.
(The MAID enters, lower right.)
MAID. Miss Thorpe wishes to speak with you, ma'am.
AUGUSTA (gathering up her knitting). It's about the wool for the Red
Cross.
(Exit, lower right.)
GEORGE (shaking hands with BERT). Hello, Bert,--how goes it?
BERT. All right, thank you, lieutenant.
GEORGE. Oh, cut out the title.
(BERT FARRELL is about twenty three. He wears a brown flannel
shirt and a blue four-in-hand tie, and a good ready-made suit. He holds
his hat in front of him. He is a self-respecting, able young Irish
American of the blue-eyed type that have died by thousands on the
battle fields of France, and whose pictures may be seen in our
newspapers.)
ASHER. You're not working today, Bert?
BERT. I've left the shops, Mr. Pindar,--I got through last night.
ASHER. Left