The Pot Boiler | Page 4

test for you. Upstairs in my trunk is an old suit that I wore when I went out and lived as a hobo. Put it on. Put on the torn overcoat and the ragged hat. I was going to say empty your pockets--but you needn't do that--there's nothing in the pockets. Go out of here tonight, and make this bargain--that for six months you won't tell a soul who you are, that you won't communicate with one of your friends, nor use any of their influence. For six months you'll shift for yourself and take what comes to you. And then you can come back, and we'll see how far you've risen in the world. Also we'll see whether you haven't changed some of your ideas! _(A pause.)_
Jack (in a low voice).--That would satisfy you, would it?
Bob. Yes, that would satisfy me.
Jack. All right! By thunder--I'll go you! (Starts away.) To-night!
Jessie (horrified). Jack! You're out of your senses.
Jack. I'm not. I mean it. I'm tired of his jawing at me!
Jessie (rushes to him). I won't hear of it!
Jack. I'm going to show him.
Jessie (turns to Bob). I won't have my brother leave me!
Bob. Don't worry, Jessie. Your brother won't really go!
Jack. Yes, I will!
Jessie (wildly). But Jack! It's time for your birthday-dinner!
Bob. We'll save the dinner and eat it cold. He'll be back in a day or two.
Jack. You may spare your taunts, Bob.
Jessie (catching him by the arm).--I'll send for Dad! You shan't go!
Jack (aside to Jessie). Listen, Jessie. There's another reason. I've got to go. I've got into another row at college.
Jessie. Jack! What have you done?
Jack. Oh, it's a long story--the point is, Dad has heard of it to-day, and he'll be wild. He said the last time that if I got into any more trouble, he'd turn me out.
Jessie. But, Jack! He won't really do it!
Jack. Yes, he meant it! And I don't want to give him a chance to order me out--I want to go before he gets here----_(He starts off Left.)_ I'll go and put on those hobo clothes.
Jessie. Jack! I beg you----(Jack exit.)
Jessie (turns upon Bob). Bob, I think it's wicked of you!
Bob. Why, Jessie?
Jessie. To nag at Jack all the time! You've driven him crazy!
Bob. Never mind--he'll soon get sane. You never knew him to stick at anything very long.
Jessie. Oh! Oh! I think you're horrid! And right before our party--what will we tell the guests?
Bob. Tell them the truth; they'll think it's romantic--like a story in a play. Why, Jessie----
_(During this dialogue Jack has slipped back into the coat of Will and sits at the desk, Left 1. The sound of a sharp whistle heard in the Real-play, Left_ 1. Instantly the Play-play vanishes. Full light on the Real-play.)_
Will (looking up in bewilderment and disgust). My God! What's that?
Peggy. Something at the dumb-waiter, dear.
Will. Oh, Lord!
Peggy (rises). Wait, dear. _(Hurries out of door Left, calls at shaft.)_ Well?
Voice below. Garbage!
Will (tears hair). Garbage.
Peggy (cheerfully). All right! _(Returns and gets can, exit Left.)_
Will. Garbage! Garbage! Garbage!
Peggy. A little higher, please--there, that'll do! All right! (Enters.)
Will. Can you explain to me one mystery of this universe?
Peggy. What, dear?
Will. Why does the garbage-man always call when I'm inspired?
Peggy. Dear Will--probably the garbage-man is wondering why you are always inspired when he calls.
Will (moans). Well, shall I go on?
Peggy. You must wait, dear. He'll be returning the can in a few minutes.
Will. A few minutes! Oh, the agonies of being an author! (Eagerly.) Well, what do you think of my play?
Peggy. Why, Will, I'm sorry to disappoint you. It's very interesting--but it isn't a practical play. It would never go on Broadway.
Will (in dismay). Not go on Broadway!
Peggy. No, dear. It's too talky--too much sociology. You can't get a Broadway audience to listen to long arguments.
Will. Isn't it what they all need? Those wage-slaves up in the galleries----
Peggy. I know, dear--but they've no idea they are wage-slaves, and they won't pay their money to hear you call them names. And down in the three-dollar seats are people who've made their pile, and don't want any questions asked about the way they made it. Cut out the sociology, Will!
Will. But can't one discuss modern problems in a modern play?
Peggy. Yes, dear, but you've got to go at it differently. You've got to get what the crowd calls the punch. Look at their faces, Will--see how tired they are! You've got to find something that comes home to them! Not arguments, not abstractions--but a clash of human wills! Something fundamental, that every man in the crowd can understand! Your idea's a good one, I think--having a rich boy go out to try his luck in the under-world. There's a chance in it for adventure, for fun, for suspense. You ought to know about that, since you did