The Atlantic Book of Modern Plays | Page 7

an' in a hundred years
he'll be juist a stane still--unless he's broken up, an' then he'll be juist
not a stane, but he'll no' ken what's happened to him, because he didna
break up gradual and first lose his boat an' then his hoose, an' then hae
his wee grandson taken away when he was for tellin' him a bit story
before he gangs tae his bed.--It's yon losing yer grip bit by bit and
kennin' that yer losin' it that makes a philosopher, John.
JOHN. If I kennt what ye meant by philosophy, feyther, I'd be better
able to follow ye.
(LIZZIE _enters quietly and closes door after her._)
JOHN. Is he asleep?
LIZZIE. No, he's no' asleep, but I've shut both doors, and the neighbors
canna hear him.
JOHN. Aw, Lizzie--
LIZZIE (_sharply_). John--
DAVID. Whit was I tellin' ye, John, about weans gettin' their ain way if
the neighbors had ears an' they lived close? Was I no' richt?
LIZZIE (_answering for JOHN with some acerbity_). Aye, ye were
richt, feyther, nae doot; but we dinna live that close here, an' the

neighbors canna hear him at the back o' the hoose.
DAVID. Mebbe that's why ye changed Alexander into the parlor an'
gied me the bed in here when it began to get cold---
LIZZIE (_hurt_). Aw, no, feyther; I brought ye in here to be warmer--
DAVID (_placably_). I believe ye, wumman--(_with a faint
twinkle_)--but it's turned oot luckily, has it no'?
(_DAVID waits for a reply but gets none. LIZZIE fetches needlework
from the dresser drawer and sits above table. DAVID'S face and voice
take on a more thoughtful tone._)
DAVID (_musing_). Puir wee man! If he was in here you'd no' be
letting him greet his heart oot where onybody could hear him. Wud ye?
LIZZIE (_calmly_). Mebbe I'd no'.
JOHN. Ye ken fine ye'd no', wumman.
LIZZIE. John, thread my needle an' dinna take feyther's part against
me.
JOHN (_surprised_). I'm no'.
LIZZIE. No, I ken ye're no meanin' to, but you men are that thrang--
(She is interrupted by a loud squall from DAVID, _which he maintains,
eyes shut, chair-arms gripped, and mouth open, for nearly half a minute,
before he cuts it off abruptly and looks at the startled couple at the
table._)
LIZZIE. Mercy, feyther, whit's wrang wi' ye?
DAVID (_collectedly_). There's naethin' wrang wi' me, Lizzie, except
that I'm wantin' to tell wee Alexander a bit story--
LIZZIE (_firmly but very kindly_). But ye're no' goin' to--

(_She breaks off in alarm as her father opens his mouth preparatory to
another yell, which however he postpones to speak to_ JOHN.)
DAVID. Ye mind whit I was saying aboot the dispensation o'
Providence to help weans till they could try for theirselves, John?
JOHN. Aye.
DAVID. Did it no' occur to ye then that there ought to be some sort of
dispensation to look after the auld yins who were past it?
JOHN. No.
DAVID. Aweel--it didna occur to me at the time--(_and he lets off
another prolonged wail_).
LIZZIE (_going to him_). Shsh! Feyther! The neighbors will hear ye!!!
DAVID (_desisting as before_). I ken fine; _I'm_ no' at the back of the
hoose. (_Shorter wail._)
LIZZIE (_almost in tears_). They'll be coming to ask.
DAVID. Let them. They'll no'ask me. (_Squall._)
LIZZIE. Feyther--ye're no'behaving well. John--
JOHN. Aye?
LIZZIE (_helplessly_). Naething--feyther, stop it. They'll think ye're
clean daft.
DAVID (_ceasing to howl and speaking with gravity_). I ken it fine,
Lizzie; an' it's no easy for a man who has been respeckit an' lookit up to
a' his life to be thought daft at eighty-three; but the most important
thing in life is to get yer ain way. (_Resumes wailing._)
LIZZIE (_puzzled, to_ JOHN). Whit's that?

JOHN. It's his philosophy that he was talking aboot.
DAVID (_firmly_). An' I'm gaein' to tell wee Alexander yon bit story,
tho' they think me daft for it.
LIZZIE. But it's no' for his ain guid, feyther. I've telt ye so, but ye
wudna listen.
DAVID. I wudna listen, wumman! It was you wudna listen to me when
I axed ye whit harm--(_Chuckles.--Checking himself_) No! I'm no
gaein' to hae that ower again. I've gied up arguing wi' women. I'm juist
gaein' tae greet loud an' sair till wee Alexander's brought in here to hae
his bit story; an' if the neighbors--(_Loud squall._)
LIZZIE (aside to JOHN). He's fair daft!
JOHN (_aghast_). Ye'd no send him to--
LIZZIE (_reproachfully_). John!
(_A louder squall from the old man._)
LIZZIE (_beating her hands together distractedly_). He'll be
--We'll--He'll--Och!!! (_Resigned and beaten_) John, go and bring wee
Alexander in here.
(JOHN _is off like a shot. The opening of the door of the other room
can be told by the burst of_ ALEXANDER'S _voice. The old