The Gibson Upright | Page 9

the mouthpiece.] He
wants to know who it is talking.
FRANKEL: My goodness! Can't you tell him it's you?
CARTER: He wouldn't know who that was.
MIFFLIN: Tell him it's one of the owners of the company.
CARTER [looks at MIFFLIN solemnly; then in a hushed voice]: It's
one of the owners of the company.... Wait a minute; let me get that.
"The Central Associated Lumber Companies?" I hear you. Wait a
minute. [Looks round.] This here company says they want to lower
their bid for a couple hundred thousand feet o' lumber to forty-seven
dollars a thousand. They say that's a dollar lower than they offered
yesterday and a half a dollar lower than they offered this morning--says
got to know now.
FRANKEL: Says they come down to forty-seven, do they?
CARTER: Yes; says so!
SIMPSON: Well, tell 'em that's good; we'll take it.
THE OTHERS: Sure, that's right!... That's a good offer.... Sure, we'll
take it!
CARTER [at the telephone]: We'll take it. [Pause.] You're welcome.

[Puts down the telephone amid general buzz from all the others. They
rise somewhat dazedly, but relaxing, beginning to take in their
surroundings in the new life. SHOMBERG and SIMPSON shake hands.
FRANKEL goes over and examines the safe. SALVATORE picks up a
basket of correspondence from the desk as if it were a strange bug.
SHOMBERG opens a drawer in the table. There is a buzz of
congratulative, formless talk. They spread over the stage, looking at
everything.]
MIFFLIN [transfigured, his right hand lifted]: Gentlemen, this is the
New Dawn!

ACT II
The yard beside GIBSON'S house. Upon our left is seen the porch or
sun-room wing of a good "colonial" house of the present type. A hedge
runs across at the back, about five feet high, with a gateway and rustic
gate. Beyond is seen a residential suburban quarter, well wooded and
with ample shrubberies. A gravelled path leads from the gate to the
porch, or sun-room, where are broad steps. Upon the lawn are a white
garden bench, a table, and a great green-and-white-striped sun
umbrella, with several white garden chairs.
Autumn has come, and the foliage is beginning to turn; but the scene is
warm and sunlit.
After a moment a young housemaid brings out a tray with a chocolate
pot, wafers, and one cup and saucer and a lace-edged napkin. She
places the tray on the table, moves a chair to it, looks at the tray
thoughtfully, turns, starts toward the house--when GIBSON comes out.
He wears a travelling suit and is bareheaded.
ELLA: The cook thought you might like a cup of chocolate after a long
trip like that--just getting off the train and all, Mr. Gibson.
GIBSON: Thank you, Ella, I should.

ELLA: I'll bring your mail right out.
[She goes into the house and returns with a packet of letters.]
GIBSON: Thanks, Ella!
ELLA: Everything is there that's come since you sent the telegram not
to forward any more.
GIBSON: It's pleasant to find the house and everything just as I left it.
ELLA: My, Mr. Gibson, we pretty near thought you wasn't never
coming back. Those June roses in that bed round yonder lasted pretty
near up into August this year, Mr. Gibson. For that matter it's such mild
weather even yet some say we won't have any fall till Thanksgiving.
GIBSON: Yes, it's extraordinary.
ELLA: Shall I leave the tray?
GIBSON: No; you can take it. [She moves to do so.] Wait a minute.
Here's a letter from John Riley, up at the factory. Don't I remember his
son Tom coming here to see you quite a good deal?
ELLA: Yes, sir; Tom's one of the factory truckmen like his father. He
still comes to see me quite a good deal, sir. There isn't anything about
that in the letter, is there, sir? [She knows there isn't.]
GIBSON [absently]: No, no! [With faint irony.] He only wants to know
about where to get a stock of truck parts that had been ordered before I
broke connections with the factory. He thinks four months is a long
time for them to be on the way and doesn't know where to write.
ELLA: He's a terrible active man, Mr. Riley. Always pushing.
GIBSON: So Tom comes round more than ever, does he?
ELLA [coyly]: He does, sir!

GIBSON: I'm not going to lose you, am I, Ella?
ELLA: Well, sir, up to the time of that change in the factory we hadn't
expected we could get married for maybe two years yet, but the way
things are now--not that I want to leave here, sir--but it does look like
going right ahead with the wedding!
GIBSON: Tom feels that prosperous, does he?
ELLA: I guess he is prosperous, sir!
GIBSON [gravely digesting this]: Well, I suppose