The Climbers | Page 7

I don't see why I couldn't learn typewriting, Blanche?
MRS. HUNTER. Huh! Why, you could never even learn to play the
piano; I don't think you'd be much good at typewriting.
CLARA. You want to be a typewriter, because in the papers they
always have an old gentleman taking them to theatres and supper! No,
sir, if there is to be any "old man's darling" in this family, _I'll_ be it!
RUTH. [_Dryly._] You'll have to learn to spell correctly first!
CLARA. [_Superciliously._] Humph!
JESSICA. There are lots of ways nowadays for women to earn their
living.
RUTH. Yes, typewriting we will consider.
MRS. HUNTER. Never!
[No one pays any attention to her except CLARA, _who agrees with
her._
RUTH. Jess, you learned enough to teach, didn't you?--even at that
fashionable school your mother sent you to?
JESSICA. Oh, yes, I think I could teach.

MRS. HUNTER. Never!
[Still no one pays any attention except CLARA _who again agrees with
her._
CLARA. No, indeed! I wouldn't teach!
BLANCHE. If we only knew some nice elderly woman who wanted a
companion, Jess would be a godsend.
CLARA. If she was a nice old lady with lots of money and delicate
health, I wouldn't mind that position myself.
RUTH. Clara, you seem to take this matter as a supreme joke!
MRS. HUNTER. [_With mock humility._] May I speak? [_She waits.
All turn to her. A moment's, silence._] MAY I speak?
RUTH. Yes, yes. Go on, Florence; don't you see we're listening?
MRS. HUNTER. I didn't know! I've been so completely ignored in this
entire conversation. But there is one thing for the girls--the easiest
possible way for them to earn their living--which you don't seem for a
moment to have thought of!
[_She waits with a smile of coming triumph on her face._
RUTH. Nursing!
MRS. HUNTER. [_Disgusted._] No!
CLARA. Manicuring?
MRS. HUNTER. _Darling!_
BLANCHE. Designing dresses and hats?
MRS. HUNTER. No!

JESSICA. Book-keeping?
MRS. HUNTER. No.
RUTH. Then what in the world is it?
MRS. HUNTER. Marriage!
CLARA. Oh, of course!
RUTH. Humph!
[JESSICA and BLANCHE _exchange glances._
MRS. HUNTER. That young Mr. Trotter would be a fine catch for
Jess.
JESSICA. Who loathes him!
MRS. HUNTER. Don't be old-fashioned! He's very nice.
RUTH. A little cad, trying to get into society--nice occupation for a
man!
JESSICA. Mother, you can't be serious.
CLARA. Why wouldn't he do for _me_?
RUTH. He would! The very thing!
MRS. HUNTER. We'll see, darling; I think Europe is the place for you.
I don't believe all the titles are gobbled up yet.
RUTH. Jess, I might get you some women friends of mine, to whom
you could go mornings and answer their letters.
MRS. HUNTER. I should not allow my daughter to go in that capacity
to the house of any woman who had refused to call on her mother,
which is the way most of your friends have treated me.

RUTH. Do you realize, Florence, this is a question of bread and butter,
a practical suggestion of life, which has nothing whatever to do with
the society columns of the daily papers?
MRS. HUNTER. I do not intend that my daughters shall lose their
positions because their father has been--what shall we call
it--criminally negligent of them.
RUTH. [_Rising._] How dare you! You are to blame for it all. If you
say another word injurious to my brother's memory, I'll leave this house
and let you starve for all I'll do for you.
BLANCHE. Aunt Ruth, please, for father's sake--
CLARA. Well, this house is ours, anyway!
BLANCHE. That is what _I've_ been thinking of. The house is yours.
It's huge. You don't need it. You must either give it up altogether--
MRS. HUNTER. [_Interrupts._] _What! Leave it? My house! Never!_
BLANCHE. Or--let out floors to one or two friends,--bachelor friends.
Mr. Mason, perhaps--
CLARA. [_Interrupts, rising, furious._] Take in boarders!
MRS. HUNTER. [_Who has listened aghast, now rises in outraged
dignity; she stands a moment glaring at_ BLANCHE, _then speaks._]
Take--[_She chokes._] That is the last straw!
[_And she sweeps from the room Right._
CLARA. Mama! Mama!
[_She goes out after her mother._
[_The other three women watch the two leave the room, then turn and
look at each other._

BLANCHE. We'll manage somehow, only I think it would be easier for
us to discuss all practical matters by ourselves.
RUTH. And I want you to understand this, girls,--I represent your dear
father; half of everything I have is yours, and you must promise me
always to come to me for everything.
[STERLING _enters suddenly Left._
[_He is a man of thirty-eight or forty, a singularly attractive personality;
he is handsome and distinguished. His hair is grayer than his years may
account for and his manner betrays a nervous system overtaxed and
barely under control. At the