The Flutter of the Goldleaf; and Other Plays Part 21

I am your father.

_Stranger_

What place is this? They told me somewhere--but I have forgotten--that I should die _there_ which is being born _here_ and come to the earth.

_Mother_

Yes, this is our world, and I shall give you a name. I shall name you Everychild.

_Everychild_

Is it always and everywhere so beautiful?

_Mother_

No, but it should be so, and some day it will be so.

_Father_

It is a dream we have.

_Mother_

It will be even more beautiful than this, for we shall go higher, and climb those Morning Mountains. The flowers of the Spirit grow there.

_Everychild_

And we shall gather them?

_Father_

Yes, Everychild. Come now, and bring all the others with you. We will take that path yonder to the hills.

_Mother_

No, wait! They are not all here. There are some missing. They must all come.

_Father_

It will be so long to wait. Let us go with these.

_Mother_ (_laying her hand on_ EVERYCHILD'S _head_)

Have we not named her Everychild?

_Father_

Yes. She must go down and find all who have lost their way. Perhaps some have awakened in the wrong place and are wandering about in the dark jungle of the world. We will wait here till they come.

_Mother_

Go, Everychild. Find them and bring them all back with you. Take this lamp. (_Hands her a rose-colored lamp, etc._)

_Father_

Our lamp?

_Mother_

Our love!

_Father_

Take it, Everychild. With this lamp you can find the lost children and bring them all back with you.

_Mother_

We will wait for them no matter how long.

(EVERYCHILD _starts down along a path leading off the stage to the right--the music and singing continue through the whole scene._ CHO-CHO _appears, right, for a moment and points her path to her saying: "This way, Everychild."_)

(CURTAIN FALLS)

CURTAIN _rises revealing_

SCENE II: _A squalid room in a city tenement, a miserable stove, a bedraggled bed. Right, a table at which a poorly dressed man and woman are working fast and feverishly. Three children of about four, eight, and ten years sit on a bench, left, sewing as fast as they can, looking tired, depressed, weary. It is evening, the room poorly lit. Noises from the street, street calls, rumbling of vehicles, honk of autos, etc., etc._

_The Younger Child_

Ma, can I go to bed? I am so tired and hungry.

_Mother_

It ain't ten yet. It will be only a few minutes more. The boss is coming early in the morning and we must have the work ready. Now you be still and keep working. You don't know what a good home you got. Ain't she got a good home, John?

_Father_

You bet she got a good home, and if you all work now we get the good coffee and bread in the morning and perhaps in a couple a weeks we all go to the movies.

_Oldest Child_

Gee, I like to see that fairy play what we see once.

(_Bell strikes ten._)

_Mother_