The Gibson Upright | Page 5

Have satisfactory answers ever satisfied you?
SALVATORE: Ain't we got no right to stand up for our rights?
FRANKEL: Don't you get all you can from us? Well, you bet your life
we're goin' to keep on gettin' all we can from you!

GIBSON: Then life isn't worth anything to either of us--if it's all fight!
Is that to go on forever?
NORA: No, Mr. Gibson; it's to go on until the abolition of the wage
system!
MIFFLIN: Good!
NORA: The struggle with capitalism will continue till the workers take
possession of the machinery of production. It is theirs by right; the
wealth they produce is morally their own. The parasites who now
consume that wealth must be destroyed.
[Great approval from workmen; almost a cheer. MIFFLIN chuckles
and noiselessly claps his hands.]
GIBSON: I'm the parasite!
SHOMBERG: Well, do we get any answer?
GIBSON: Does any one of you men here think he could answer all of
these demands satisfactorily?
SALVATORE: Sure! [All acquiesce: "Sure, sure!"]
FRANKEL: You can't put us off any longer with just no little bunch of
funny talk!
GIBSON: I'll have an answer for you in fifteen minutes. [Turns to his
desk.] That's all.
SHOMBERG: Better have it before twelve o'clock.
CARTER [as they go]: Do what you kin, Mr. Gibson. All the
departments is worked up pretty unusual.
GIBSON [wearily dropping back into his chair]: Oh, no, Carter; pretty
usual; that's the trouble.

MIFFLIN: A splendid manifestation of spirit, Mr. Gibson! I'll just take
advantage of the--
[GIBSON waves his hand, assenting. MIFFLIN overtakes the group at
door, puts his hands on the shoulders of two of the workers; and goes
out with them talking eagerly. NORA follows. GIBSON sighs heavily;
the telephone bell rings. He takes up the receiver.]
GIBSON: Who is it?... Wait a minute! [He takes a pad and writes]:
"Central Associated Lumber Companies." ... Wait a minute. [Looks at a
slip in a pigeonhole of his desk.] Oh, yes, you called me yesterday....
This is Mr. Ragsdale?... No, no, Mr. Ragsdale, I don't think I'm going
to do any business with you. You asked me forty-eight dollars a
thousand on 200,000 feet.... No, your coming down half a dollar a
thousand won't do it.... I say seventeen cents won't do it.... Hold the
wire a minute. [Looks for letter in pigeonhole, but finds it in his inside
pockets. Then he holds it open, looking at it beside the telephone as he
speaks.] Hello!... No; I was right; there's nothing doing, Mr. Ragsdale, I
know where I can get that 200,000 feet at forty-five dollars.... I say I
know where I can get that lumber at forty-five dollars.... No; I can get it.
There won't be any use for you to call up again.... Good-bye!
[He paces the floor again thoughtfully, then abruptly goes to the
factory door; opens it and calls.]
GIBSON: Miss Gorodna!
[NORA appears in the doorway. She looks at him with disapproving
inquiry; then walks in and closes the door. He goes to his desk and
touches the rose.]
GIBSON: Why didn't you take it this morning? That poor little rosebed
in my yard at home; it's just begun to brighten up. I suppose it thought
it was going to send you a June rose every day, as it did last June. You
don't want it?
NORA [gently, but not abating her attitude]: No, thank you!

GIBSON: [dropping the rose upon his blotting pad, not into the glass
again]: This is the fourth that's had to wither disappointed.
NORA [in a low voice]: Then hadn't you better let the others live?
GIBSON: I'd like to live a little myself, Nora. Life doesn't seem much
worth living for me as it is, and if your theories are making you detest
me I think I'm about through.
NORA: It's what you stand for that my theories make me detest--since
you used the word.
GIBSON: Well, what is it that I stand for?
NORA: Class and class hatred.
GIBSON: Which class is the hatred coming from?
NORA: From both!
GIBSON: Just in this room right now it seems to be all on one side.
And lately it has seemed to me to be more and more not so much class
as personal; because really, Nora, I haven't yet been able to understand
how a girl with your mind can believe that you and I belong to different
classes.
NORA: You don't! So long as capital exists you and I are in warring
classes, Mr. Gibson.
GIBSON: What are they?
NORA: Capitalist and proletariat. You can't get out of your class and I
don't want to get out of mine.
GIBSON: Nora, the law of the United States doesn't recognize any
classes--and I don't know why you and I should. We both like
Montaigne