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
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
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.