The Complete Plays of J. M. Barrie - 30 Titles in One Edition. Джеймс Барри
make out the date.
HENDERS. But it maun be many years old, for the letterbox hasna been used for ages.
LUCY. What letterbox?
HENDERS. The Professor’s old letterbox, whaur I found it.
LUCY. You found it in — Ah, it must be her letter!
HENDERS. You ken wha it’s to?
LUCY. I believe I do. But how could it have lain unseen in the letterbox all these years?
HENDERS. The letterbox was lined wi’ zinc, and the letter had slipped between the zinc and the wood. It never would have been found but for my cleverness in breaking the box. Wha is she, Miss?
LUCY. I have no right to tell you.
HENDERS. But I give you the right.
LUCY. No, no, Henders!
HENDERS. What are you to do with it?
LUCY. I am to hand it on to its rightful owner. There shall be one woman happy tonight, at any rate. She has waited a very long time for it. No, that seems a harsh way of doing it. I’ll give it to the Professor and then he can break the dear news to her.
HENDERS. TO her? Is it someone he kens?
LUCY. Henders, you’ll need all your time to take my box to the station.
(Exit henders lucy writes something on letter. At same time miss goodwillie appears in the room, lighting lamp, lucy goes to side and calls ‘effie’ two or three times, miss goodwillie hears and comes to window suspiciously, effie comes out.)
EFFIE. It’s you, Miss White?
LUCY. Give this letter to the Professor.
EFFIE (eagerly). A secret letter.
LUCY. It is very important.
EFFIE. Oh, Miss White, I’ve been guessing that you and him is fond o’ one another. Is it a loveletter?
LUCY. Yes — it is — a loveletter.
(miss goodwillie nods significantly, retires from window.)
EFFIE. Then I’ll no let her see it, for she would just tear it up.
LUCY. Tear it up! If she did that she would deprive herself of the dearest pleasure life now holds for her.
EFFIE. How could that be?
LUCY. It isn’t our affair, Effie.
EFFIE (taking letter). A loveletter. I’ve often heard o’ them, but this is the first I’ve ever seen. Love’s a fine thing,.Miss White.
LUCY. Yes, Effie, and I hope you will have abundance of it.
EFFIE (sadly). I’m doubtin’ it’s not for common folk like me, Miss. We have our wistful hopes, but in the end we maun just tak’ what we can get.
LUCY. You mustn’t talk of Henders in that way, you know.
EFFIE. I would never talk of Henders in that way, Miss White. He was the wistful hope, I was speaking of Pete. I’ll give the Professor your letter.
LUCY. Thank you, Effie.
(lucy goes and effie stands gazing at letter.)
MISS GOODWILLIE (appearing at window). Effie, give me that letter.
EFFIE (concealing it). What letter, ma’am?
MISS GOODWILLIE. Miss White’s letter to the Professor.
EFFIE. But it’s a — it’s a —
MISS GOODWILLIE. A loveletter. Yes, I heard her. Give it me at once.
(effie hands up letter and re-enters house, miss goodwillie is tempted to read letter, then tears it in two and is about to do so again when professor enters room. He is now in his old coat, etc.)
PROFESSOR. What are you doing, Agnes? Miss goodwillie (slipping letter into her pocket). Nothing.
(He sits at window sighing. She watches him.)
Is it as bad as that, Tom? (Goes to him, hand on shoulder.)
PROFESSOR. Pretty bad, Agnes.
MISS GOODWILLIE. Tom, you and I used to be all in all to each other.
PROFESSOR. We must be so again, Agnes.
MISS GOODWILLIE. I have always tried to make you happy.
PROFESSOR. You have been my guardian angel all my life.
MISS GOODWILLIE. I am so proud of you, Tom.
PROFESSOR. In the dark days, Agnes, I should have lost heart but for you. Three times I made an advance — and three times I had to begin the world over again. But at last, I triumphed by the grace of God and the faith of one woman!
MISS GOODWILLIE. Ah, Tom!
PROFESSOR. Help me to be brave again, Agnes.
MISS GOODWILLIE. There is your book to finish. (Gets his MSS.)
PROFESSOR. Ah, work, work, there is nothing like it. Work is the only woman for me! The sparkling face of her, Agnes, when she opens your eyes of a morning and cries, ‘Up, up, we have a glorious day’s toil before us.’ I have run back to her from dinners and marriages and funerals. How often she and I have sat up through the night on tiptoe, so as not to wake the dawn!
MISS GOODWILLIE (getting his papers). And I will be your amanuensis again, Tom.
PROFESSOR. For tonight. We must not ask Miss Lucy to come tonight. (Sweetly) Don’t you think it is a very pretty name — Miss Lucy?
(miss goodwillie goes to tobacco jar and fills his pipe.)
Look for page 141 B, Agnes.
MISS GOODWILLIE. There, Tom. (Handing him pipe and lighting it.) Just as I used to do.
PROFESSOR. Ah, Agnes!
MISS GOODWILLIE. I shall sit here.
PROFESSOR. Just as you used to do. Miss goodwillie. Did you say 141 B?
PROFESSOR. Yes, read out, and I’ll correct as we go along.
MISS GOODWILLIE. ‘The machine consists of two glass discs, A and D, carefully covered with a fine varnish — a fine varnish. The plate D is somewhat larger than the plate A.’ Are you listening, Tom?
PROFESSOR. I forgot for a moment. This is in — in Miss Lucy’s handwriting. Her writing is very like herself, don’t you think?
MISS GOODWILLIE. ‘The plate D is stationary and is kept in its place by four circular grooved rings of vulcanite placed in horizontal—’ Tom, do you feel as if you couldn’t live without her?
PROFESSOR. Who am I, Agnes, that I should ask so much of God? I must not be a selfish man. Agnes, do you remember James Spens who used to be my great friend when we were boys?
MISS GOODWILLIE. Of course. He is a smith now. His smithy is only a few miles from here.
PROFESSOR. I passed it to-day. I had a talk with him about auld lang syne.
MISS GOODWILLIE. He is tremendously proud of your success, Tom.
PROFESSOR (simply). Is he? Yes, I think he said that. I saw his wife, also, and a pair of such splendid children. I knew which of us two had been a success, Agnes.
MISS GOODWILLIE (moved, but going on). ‘Horizontal glass rods which — which—’ (PROFESSOR’S head sinks on table. She is affected but tries to go on.)
‘are connected by—’ (She gives way, rises, produces letter, looks sadly at it, hands it to him.) Tom! I haven’t been fair to you.
PROFESSOR. What is this? (Eagerly) From Lucy?
MISS GOODWILLIE. Yes.
(Her back is now towards him. He reads letter to himself, and you see from