The Collected Short Plays of Thornton Wilder, Volume I

  LUBBOCK (Amazed): Miss Buckingham’s aunt! She never told me she had an aunt.

  MRS. MOWBREY: No, Mr. Lubbock, she wouldn’t. I am the black sheep of the family. My name is not mentioned in that house. —Will you pour me some port, please. I am glad to see that you have helped yourself . . . Thank you . . . Yes, I am your future mother-in-law’s sister. (He is standing up, holding his glass—waiting) Our lives took different directions. (He sits down)

  But before we get into the legal matter, let’s get to know one another a little better. —Tell me, I haven’t seen my niece for fifteen years. Is she a pretty girl?

  LUBBOCK: Yes—very.

  MRS. MOWBREY: We’re a good-looking family.

  LUBBOCK (Indicating the pictures on the wall): And a distinguished one. Miss Buckingham would be very interested in seeing these family portraits.

  MRS. MOWBREY: Yes. (She sips her wine, then says dryly, without a smile) It’s not hard to find family portraits, Mr. Lubbock. There are places on Twelfth Street, simply full of them. Bishops and generals—whatever you want.

  LUBBOCK (Continuing to look at them, also without a smile): Very fine collection, I should say.

  (She takes another sip of wine.)

  MRS. MOWBREY: Mr. Lubbock, I’ve made some inquiries about you. You are twenty-seven years old.

  LUBBOCK: Yes, I am.

  MRS. MOWBREY: You took your time finding yourself, didn’t you? All that unpleasantness down in Philadelphia. What happened exactly? Well, we won’t go into it. Then you gave yourself a good shaking. You pulled yourself together. Law school—very good. People are still wondering where you got all that spending money. It wasn’t horse racing. It wasn’t cards. No one could figure it out. Apparently it was something you were doing up in Harlem. —Certainly, your parents couldn’t afford to give you anything. In fact, you were very generous to them. You bought them a house on Staten Island. You were a very good son to them and I think you’ll make a very good family man.

  LUBBOCK (With a slight bow and a touch of dry irony): You are very well informed, ma’am.

  MRS. MOWBREY: Yes, I am. (She takes another sip of wine) On Saturday nights you often went to 321 West Street—“The Palace,” you boys called it. Nice girls, every one of them, especially Dolores.

  LUBBOCK (Mastering violence; rises): I don’t like this conversation, ma’am. I shall ask you to let me take my leave.

  MRS. MOWBREY (Raising her voice): You and I have met before, Mr. Lubbock. You knew me under another name. I owned The Palace.

  LUBBOCK: Mrs. Higgins!!

  MRS. MOWBREY: My hair is no longer blond. (She rises and crosses the room) You may leave any moment you wish, but I never believed you were a hypocrite.

  LUBBOCK (After returning her fixed gaze wrathfully; then sitting down again): What do you want?

  MRS. MOWBREY: Yes, I owned The Palace and several other establishments—refined, very refined in every way. I’ve sold them. I’ve retired. I see no one—no one—whom I knew in those days. Except today I am seeing yourself. Naturally, I am never going to mention these matters again. I am going to forget them, and I hope that you will forget them, too. But it would be very valuable to me to have a lawyer who knew them and who was in a position to forget them. —I’ll have a little more port, if you’ll be so good.

  (Lubbock takes the glass from her hand in silence, fills it at the taboret and carries it to her. She murmurs: “Thank you.” He returns and stands by the taboret, talking to her across the length of the stage.)

  LUBBOCK: I don’t believe you asked me here to engage me as your lawyer. There’s something else on your mind. Will you say it and then let me take my leave?

  MRS. MOWBREY: You were always like that, Jack.

  LUBBOCK (Loud): I will ask you not to call me Jack.

  MRS. MOWBREY (Bowing her head slightly): That was always your way, Mr. Lubbock. Suspicious. Quick to fight. Imagining that everybody was trying to take advantage of you.

  LUBBOCK: What do you want? I don’t know what you’re talking about. (He starts with fuming lowered head for the door) Good afternoon.

  MRS. MOWBREY: Mr. Lubbock, I will tell you what I want. (He pauses with his back to her) I am a rich woman and I intend to get richer. And I am a lonely woman, and I don’t think that that is necessary. I want to live. And when you and Katy are married, I want you to help me. (He is “caught” and half turns) I want company. I want to entertain. I also want to help people. I want—so to speak—to adopt some. Not young children, of course, but young men and women who want bringing out in some way or other. I have a gift for that kind of thing. —Even in my former work I was able to do all sorts of things for my girls. —Did you ever hear anyone say that Mrs. Higgins was mean—unkind—to the girls in her place? (He refuses to answer; the port is going to her head. She strikes her bosom emotionally) I’m kind to a fault. I love to see young people happy. Dozens of those girls—I helped them get married. I encouraged them to find good homes. Against my own interest. —Your friend, Dolores: married a policeman. Happy as a lark. (She puts a delicate lace handkerchief to her eyes and then to her nose) —Will you consent to be my lawyer?

  LUBBOCK (Scorn and finality): My firm doesn’t allow us to serve family connections.

  MRS. MOWBREY: Oh, I don’t want to have anything to do with that wretched firm: Wilbraham, Clayton, what’s-its-name? All you do for me will be on your own time. I shall start giving you three thousand a year for your advice. Then—

  LUBBOCK: I beg your pardon. It’s entirely out of the question.

  MRS. MOWBREY (After a slight pause; in a less emotional voice): Yes, yes. I know that you are always ready with your no! no! You haven’t yet heard what I can do for you. And I don’t mean in the sense of money. There is something you are greatly in need of . . . (Pause) . . . John Lubbock. One can see that you are a lawyer—and a very good one, I suspect. —So, you looked about you and you selected my niece?

  LUBBOCK: Oh, much more than that. I’m very much in love with your niece. You should know her. Katy’s an extraordinary girl.

  MRS. MOWBREY: Is she? There’s nothing very extraordinary about her mother? What’s extraordinary about Katy?

  LUBBOCK: Why, she’s . . . I feel that I’m the luckiest man in the world.

  MRS. MOWBREY: Come now, Mr. Lubbock. You don’t have to talk like that to me.

  LUBBOCK (Earnestly): I assure you, I mean it.

  MRS. MOWBREY (A touch of contempt): Very clever, is she? Reads a lot of books and all that kind of thing?

  LUBBOCK: No-o. (With a slight laugh) But she asks a lot of questions.

  MRS. MOWBREY (Pleased): Does she? So do I, Mr. Lubbock, as you have noticed. (She rises and starts toward her former seat by the decanter of port) She asks lots of questions. I like that. —I asked her to call this afternoon.

  LUBBOCK (Startled and uneasy): You did? Did you tell her that I would be here?

  MRS. MOWBREY: No. I thought I would surprise her.

  LUBBOCK: Katy doesn’t like surprises. (Preparing to leave, with hand outstretched) I think that at your first meeting with—after so long a time—you should see her alone. Perhaps I can call on you at another time.

  MRS. MOWBREY (Still standing): What are you so nervous about? It’s not time for her to come yet, and besides I have this law matter to discuss with you.

  LUBBOCK: Thank you. —I’ll ask if I can call some other time.

  MRS. MOWBREY: Anyway, perhaps she won’t come. She’ll have shown my letter to her mother and her mother will have forbidden her to come. Would Katy disobey her mother?

  LUBBOCK: Yes.

  MRS. MOWBREY (Eyeing him): Has Katy chosen to marry you against her mother’s wishes?

  LUBBOCK: Yes. Very much so.

  MRS. MOWBREY: I see. Tears? Scenes? Slamming of doors?

  LUBBOCK: Yes, I think so.

  MRS. MOWBREY (Leaning toward him confidentially, lifted finger): Katy is like me, Mr. Lubbock. I can feel it with every word you say.

 
(Still uneasy, Lubbock has been taking a few steps around the room; he looks up at the ceiling and weighs this thoughtfully:)

  LUBBOCK: If you told her you were her aunt . . . Yes, I think she will come. Katy likes to know . . . where she stands; what it’s all about, and that kind of thing.

  MRS. MOWBREY: I see. A lawyer’s wife. As you suggested a few moments ago: she’s inquisitive?

  LUBBOCK (With a nervous laugh): Yes, she is.

  MRS. MOWBREY: And you think I’m inquisitive, too—don’t you?

  LUBBOCK: Yes, I do.

  MRS. MOWBREY: Well, let me tell you something, Mr. Lubbock. Everybody says we women are inquisitive. Most of us are. We have to be. I wouldn’t give a cent for a woman who wasn’t. And why? (The wine has gone to her head. She emphasizes what she is about to say by tapping with jeweled rings on the taboret) Because a good deal is asked of us for which we are not prepared. Women have to keep their wits about them to survive at all, Mr. Lubbock. (She leans back in her chair) When I was married I didn’t hesitate to read every scrap of paper my husband left lying around the house. But (She leans forward) as I said, I have some business to discuss with you before Katy comes. —Do you always walk about that way?

  LUBBOCK (Surprised): People tell me I do. I do in court. If it makes you uneasy—

  MRS. MOWBREY: I would like to ask another thing. When you are married—and as a wedding present I shall give Katy a very large check, I assure you—I want you both to give me the opportunity to meet some of your friends, young people in whom I could take an interest. New York must be full of them. But most of all I want to see you two. I want you to feel that this house is your second home. (Very emotional) I will do everything for you. I have no one else in the world. I will do everything for you. (Again she puts her handkerchief to her face)

  Now I’ve talked a good deal. Have you anything to say to all this?

  LUBBOCK (After rising and taking a few steps about): Mrs. Mowbrey, I like people who talk frankly, as you do, and who go straight to the point. And I’m going to be frank with you. There’s one big hitch in what you propose.

  MRS. MOWBREY: Hitch?

  LUBBOCK: Katy. (He looks directly at her and repeats) Katy. Naturally, she wouldn’t have anything to say about my professional life. —And I want to thank you for the confidence you express in my ability to be of service to you. (He looks up at the ceiling in thought) But about those other points: I don’t know. I tell you frankly, Mrs. Mowbrey, I’m in love with Katy. I’m knocked off my feet by Katy. But I feel that I don’t know her. How can I put it? I’m . . . I’m even afraid of Katy.

  MRS. MOWBREY (Almost outraged): What? A man like you, afraid of a mere girl!

  LUBBOCK (Short laugh): Well, perhaps that’s going too far; but I swear to you I still can’t imagine what it will be like to be married to Katy.

  (His manner changes and he goes to her briskly as though to shake her hand) Really, I think it’s best that I say good night now. Katy will want to see you alone. So I’ll thank you very much and say good-bye. And ask if I may call on you at some other time.

  MRS. MOWBREY: Nonsense! What possible harm could there be —?

  (The doorbell rings.)

  There! That’s the doorbell. That’s Katy. It’s too late to go now. Do calm down, Mr. Lubbock.

  (Enter Marget.)

  MARGET: That’s the front door bell, Mrs. Mowbrey. Shall I take out the tray?

  MRS. MOWBREY: Yes, Marget. And be quick about it.

  (Marget scutters out with the tray.)

  Really, I don’t understand you, Mr. Lubbock. This is not like you at all. There’s nothing to get nervous about. The young girls of today are perfect geese—don’t I know them! Pah!

  (Marget at the door.)

  MARGET: Miss Buckingham to see you, ma’am.

  (Katy, twenty-one, very pretty, stands a moment at the top step and looks all about the room.)

  MRS. MOWBREY (Throwing her arms wide, without rising): Ah, there you are, dear.

  KATY (Taking a few steps forward, her eyes on Lubbock): Aunt Julia, I’m very glad to see you.

  MRS. MOWBREY (Apparently expecting to be kissed): This is a joy!

  (Katy, approaching her, looks at her smiling, and suddenly drops her reticule which she has opened. Thus avoiding an embrace, she leans over and takes some time picking the objects up. Lubbock and Marget come to her assistance.)

  KATY: Oh, how awkward of me! I’m so sorry. I’m always doing things like this. Thank you. There’s my key . . . and my card case. Thank you.

  MRS. MOWBREY: Marget, we’re ready for tea now. I’m sure you’ll want some tea, dear.

  (Exit Marget.)

  KATY: Thank you, I would. —You’re here, John?

  LUBBOCK (Uncomfortable): Mrs. Mowbrey wrote me and asked me to call.

  MRS. MOWBREY: Yes, dear, I’ve wanted a lawyer so badly. Now sit down and let me look at you.

  (Katy sits in the chair Mrs. Mowbrey has indicated.)

  What a dear, beautiful girl you are! —And you’re so like my father! You’re like me and my father.

  LUBBOCK (Reluctantly): Yes . . . There is something there.

  MRS. MOWBREY: Oh, I’ve lost my looks—I know that! I’ve been through great unhappiness, but the resemblance is there, there’s no doubt about it.

  KATY: Did you know I was coming, John?

  LUBBOCK: No, no.

  KATY: Is John going to be your lawyer, Aunt Julia?

  MRS. MOWBREY: I hope so, dear. I certainly hope he will be. That’ll bring us all closer and closer together.

  KATY: Aunt Julia . . . I scarcely remember you. Why . . . why haven’t we seen you more often?

  MRS. MOWBREY: Mildred, dear, your mother and I . . . let’s not talk about it. I’ll just say this: sometimes in families, there are people who simply can’t get on together. I hope your mother’s happy. I wish her every good thing in the world. If she doesn’t wish to see me, that doesn’t change anything. I wish her every good thing in the world. You can tell her that any time you wish, Mildred. —But Mr. Lubbock tells me you wish to be called Kate?

  KATY: Yes, I do.

  MRS. MOWBREY: But why?

  KATY (After looking down a moment): That would take too long to explain, Aunt Julia.

  MRS. MOWBREY: Well, you are a dear original girl, aren’t you?

  KATY: John, are you Aunt Julia’s lawyer?

  MRS. MOWBREY: He will be. He will be. We’ve just settled that. So that both my business and my pleasure—my affection, let us hope—will be close together. Oh, here’s the tea.

  (Enter Marget with the tea service.)

  Oh, I have such plans for you. Cream and sugar—both of you?

  KATY AND LUBBOCK: Thank you.

  MRS. MOWBREY: You see, dear, I’ve lived too much alone, since my dear husband’s death. That’s not good. That’s not right. And you are going to bring me out. —Now tell me, Katy, where are you going to live? Have you found just what you wanted?

  KATY: Yes, we have. —Thank you.

  MRS. MOWBREY: Splendid! Tell me, dear, don’t have a moment’s hesitation . . . What will it be: linen? silver?

  KATY: Aunt Julia, I don’t like receiving presents. I never have. I may be strange in that, but . . . I don’t.

  MRS. MOWBREY: Presents! But I’m your aunt—this is the family.

  KATY (Clearly): But we don’t know one another very well yet.

  (Mrs. Mowbrey is stopped short. She fumbles with her handkerchief. She begins silently to weep.)

  Have you been living in New York, Aunt Julia?

  MRS. MOWBREY: That was not kind, Mildred. That was not kind.

  KATY (Searching herself softly): I’m sorry. I’m sorry, if . . . I think I’m supposed to be a very outspoken person, Aunt Julia, but I didn’t mean to be unkind.

  MRS. MOWBREY (Still drying one eye; but in a low firm tone of instruction): That means you must have been hurt in life, in some way. I’ve seen it often.

  KATY (Another glance at John, slowly
): No, I . . . don’t think I have.

  LUBBOCK (Floundering, but trying to do his part): Katy’s right, Mrs. Mowbrey. But when she does make a friend, she’s a real one.

  MRS. MOWBREY: That I believe. And so am I. And I want to prove it to you. I want you to come to feel that this is your second home. I want to be useful to you, in any way.

  Do you know, Katy, that when I was a girl I changed my name, too? I was christened Julia; but I didn’t like it. I wanted a name out of the Bible. I liked the story of Esther. I liked her courage. That’s what I like—courage. Now will you tell me why you changed yours?

  KATY: Well . . . I used to read Shakespeare all the time. And I liked the girls in Shakespeare. Even when I was very young . . . Every day I’d pretend I was a different one. And, you know, they . . . most of them have no fathers or mothers, or else . . . and they have to go live in foreign countries or live in a forest . . . and they even have to change their clothes and pretend they’re men. They’re very much thrown on their own resources. That’s what they learn. There are four or five that I admired most—but I knew I wouldn’t be like them. So I chose one of the lesser ones, one of the easier ones—

  MRS. MOWBREY: I remember. I remember. That play. I can’t remember its name—but that Kate had an awful temper. Mr. Lubbock, has our Kate got an awful temper?

  (Katy stiffens.)

  LUBBOCK: No, indeed, Mrs. Mowbrey.

  KATY: No, I wish I did. I think people with a temper are lucky.

  MRS. MOWBREY: Lucky! How could you wish a thing like that.

  KATY: When things seem all wrong to me, I do something worse than have a temper. I turn all cold and stormy inside. It’s as though something were dead in me.

  MRS. MOWBREY: I understand every word of that. Katy, dear, we will be good friends. —Now surely there’s some furniture I can lend you, some household appointments?

  KATY (Quietly): Thank you very much, Aunt Julia. But, of course, we mean to live very simply. And we won’t be seeing anyone for the first year or two. —Will we John?

  LUBBOCK (Floundering): Just as you wish, Katy . . .

  MRS. MOWBREY: Oh, dear! That’s so unwise! My dear children, you must come and see me—and my friends. I have so many friends who will be delighted to meet you: artists and writers and young men in politics—so valuable for Mr. Lubbock’s work. And the dear rector of my church, Mr. Jenkins.