One Day More eBook

Joseph M. Carey
This eBook from the Gutenberg Project consists of approximately 33 pages of information about One Day More.

One Day More eBook

Joseph M. Carey
This eBook from the Gutenberg Project consists of approximately 33 pages of information about One Day More.

Bessie.  Perhaps Captain Hagberd is not so mad as the town takes him for.

Carvil. (Grimly).  Don’t everybody know how he came here from the North to wait till his missing son turns up—­here—­of all places in the world.  His boy that ran away to sea sixteen years ago and never did give a sign of life since!  Don’t I remember seeing people dodge round corners out of his way when he came along High Street.  Seeing him, I tell you. (Groan.) He bothered everybody so with his silly talk of his son being sure to come back home--next year--next spring--next month------.  What is it by this time, hey?

Bessie.  Why talk about it?  He bothers no one now.

Carvil.  No.  They’ve grown too fly.  You’ve got only to pass a remark on his sail-cloth coat to make him shut up.  All the town knows it.  But he’s got you to listen to his crazy talk whenever he chooses.  Don’t I hear you two at it, jabber, jabber, mumble, mumble------

Bessie.  What is there so mad in keeping up hope?

Carvil (Scathing scorn).  Not mad!  Starving himself to lay money by—­for that son.  Filling his house with furniture he won’t let anyone see—­for that son.  Advertising in the papers every week, these sixteen years—­for that son.  Not mad!  Boy, he calls him.  Boy Harry.  His boy Harry.  His lost boy Harry.  Yah!  Let him lose his sight to know what real trouble means.  And the boy—­the man, I should say—­must ’ve been put away safe in Davy Jones’s locker for many a year—­drowned—­food for fishes—­dead....  Stands to reason, or he would have been here before, smelling around the old fool’s money. (Shakes Bessie’s arm slightly.) Hey?

Bessie.  I don’t know.  May be.

Carvil (Bursting out).  Damme if I don’t think he ever had a son.

Bessie.  Poor man.  Perhaps he never had.

Carvil.  Ain’t that mad enough for you?  But I suppose you think it sensible.

Bessie.  What does it matter?  His talk keeps him up.

Carvil.  Aye!  And it pleases you.  Anything to get away from your poor blind father....  Jabber, jabber—­mumble, mumble—­till I begin to think you must be as crazy as he is.  What do you find to talk about, you two?  What’s your game?

(During the scene Carvil and Bessie have crossed stage from L. to R. slowly with stoppages.)

Bessie.  It’s warm.  Will you sit out for a while?

Carvil (Viciously).  Yes, I will sit out. (Insistent.) But what can be your game?  What are you up to? (They pass through garden gate.) Because if it’s his money you are after-------

Bessie.  Father!  How can you!

Carvil (Disregarding her).  To make you independent of your poor blind father, then you are a fool. (Drops heavily on seat.) He’s too much of a miser to ever make a will—­even if he weren’t mad.

Bessie.  Oh!  It never entered my head.  I swear it never did.

Copyrights
Project Gutenberg
One Day More from Project Gutenberg. Public domain.