One-Act Plays Part 54

CATHERINE JONES, _his wife_.

EILIR MORRIS, _nephew of Vavasour Jones_.

MRS. MORGAN, _the baker_.

HOWELL HOWELL, _the milliner_.

[Footnote 39: p.r.o.nUNCIATION OF WELSH NAMES

1 _ch_ has, roughly, the same sound as in German or in the Scotch _loch_.

2 _dd_ = English _th_, roughly, in brea_th_e.

3 _e_ has, roughly, the sound of _ai_ in d_ai_ry.

4 _f_ = English _v_.

5 _ff_ = English sharp _f_.

6 _ll_ represents a sound intermediate between _the_ and _fl_.

7 _w_ as a consonant is p.r.o.nounced as in English; as a vowel = _oo_.

8 _y_ is sometimes like _u_ in b_u_t, but sometimes like _ee_ in gr_ee_n.

NOTE: _The author will gladly answer questions about p.r.o.nunciation, costuming, etc., etc._]

_PLACE._--_Beddgelert, a little village in North Wales._

_A Welsh kitchen. At back, in center, a deep ingle, with two hobs and fire bars fixed between, on either side settles. On the left-hand side near the fire a church; on the right, in a pile, some peat ready for use. Above the fireplace is a mantel on which are set some bra.s.s candlesticks, a deep copper cheese bowl, and two pewter plates. Near the left settle is a three-legged table set with teapot, cups and saucers for two, a plate of bread and b.u.t.ter, a plate of jam, and a creamer. At the right and to the right of the door, is a tall, highly polished, oaken grandfather's clock, with a s.h.i.+ning bra.s.s face; to the left of the door is a tridarn. The tridarn dresser is lined with bright blue paper and filled with l.u.s.ter china. The floor is of beaten clay, whitewashed around the edges; from the rafters of the peaked ceiling hang flitches of bacon, hams, and bunches of onions and herbs.

On the hearth is a copper kettle singing gaily; and on either side of the fireplace are latticed windows opening into the kitchen. Through the door to the right, when open, may be seen the flagstones and cottages of a Welsh village street; through latticed windows the twinkling of many village lights._

_It is about half after eleven on Allhallows' Eve in the village of Beddgelert._

_At rise of curtain, the windows of kitchen are closed; the fire is burning brightly, and two candles are lighted on the mantelpiece.

VAVASOUR JONES, about thirty-five years old, dressed in a striped vest, a short, heavy blue coat, cut away in front, and with swallowtails behind, and trimmed with bra.s.s b.u.t.tons, and somewhat tight trousers down to his boot tops, is standing by the open door at the right, looking out anxiously on to the glittering, rain-wet flagstone street and calling after someone._

VAVASOUR[40] [_calling_]. Kats, Kats, mind ye come home soon from Pally Hughes's!

[Footnote 40: The _a_'s are broad throughout, i. e., Kats is p.r.o.nounced Kaats; Vavasour is Vavasoor: _ou_ is oo.]

CATHERINE [_from a distance_]. Aye, I'm no wantin' to go, but I must.

Good-by!

VAVASOUR. Good-by! Kats, ye mind about comin' home? [_There is no reply, and VAVASOUR looks still further into the rain-wet street. He calls loudly and desperately._] Kats, Kats darlin', I cannot let you go without tellin' ye that--Kats, do ye hear? [_There is still no reply and after one more searching of the street, VAVASOUR closes the door and sits down on the end of the nearest settle._]

VAVASOUR. Dear, dear, she's gone, an' I may never see her again, an'

I'm to blame, an' she didn't know whatever that in the night--[_Loud knocking on the closed door; VAVASOUR jumps and stands irresolute._]

The devil, it can't be comin' for her already? [_The knocking grows louder._]

VOICE [_calling_]. Catherine, Vavasour, are ye in?

VAVASOUR [_opening the door_]. Aye, come in, whoever ye are. [_MRS.

MORGAN, the Baker, dressed in a scarlet whittle and freshly starched white cap beneath her tall Welsh beaver hat, enters, shaking the rain from her cloak._]

MRS. MORGAN. Where's Catherine?

VAVASOUR. She's gone, Mrs. Morgan.

MRS. MORGAN. Gone? Are ye no goin'? Not goin' to Pally Hughes's on Allhallows' Eve?

VAVASOUR [_shaking his head and looking very white_]. Nay, I'm no feelin' well.

MRS. MORGAN. Aye, I see ye're ill?

VAVASOUR. Well, I'm not ill, but I'm not well. Not well at all, Mrs.

Morgan.

MRS. MORGAN. We'll miss ye, but I must hurryin' on whatever; I'm late now. Good-night!

VAVASOUR [_speaking drearily_]. Good-night! [_He closes the door and returns to the settle, where he sits down by the pile of peat and drops his head in his hand. Then he starts up nervously for no apparent cause and opens one of the lattice windows. With an exclamation of fear, he slams it to and throws his weight against the door. Calling and holding hard to the door._] Ye've no cause to come here! Ye old death's head, get away! [_Outside there is loud pounding on the door and a voice shouting for admittance. VAVASOUR is obliged to fall back as the door is gradually forced open, and a head is thrust in, a white handkerchief tied over it._]

HOWELL HOWELL [_seeing the terror-stricken face of VAVASOUR_]. Well, man, what ails ye; did ye think I was a ghost? [_HOWELL HOWELL, the Milliner, in highlows and a plum-colored coat, a handkerchief on his hat, enters, stamping off the rain and closing the door. He carefully wipes off his plum-colored sleeves and speaks indignantly._] Well, man, are ye crazy, keepin' me out in the rain that way? Where's Catherine?

VAVASOUR [_stammering_]. She's at P-p-p-ally Hughes's.

HOWELL HOWELL. Are ye no goin'?

VAVASOUR. Nay, Howell Howell, I'm no goin'.

HOWELL HOWELL. An' dressed in your best? What's the matter? Have ye been drinkin' whatever?

VAVASOUR [_wrathfully_]. Drinkin'! I'd better be drinkin' when neighbors go walkin' round the village on Allhallows' Eve with their heads done up in white.

HOWELL HOWELL. Aye, well, I can't be spoilin' the new hat I have, that I cannot. A finer beaver there has never been in my shop. [_He takes off the handkerchief, hangs it where the heat of the fire will dry it a bit, and then, removing the beaver, shows it to VAVASOUR, turning it this way and that._]

VAVASOUR [_absent-mindedly_]. Aye, grand, grand, man!

HOWELL HOWELL. What are ye gazin' at the clock for?

VAVASOUR [_guiltily_]. I'm no lookin' at anything.

HOWELL HOWELL. Well, indeed, I must be goin', or I shall be late at Pally Hughes's. Good-night.

VAVASOUR. Good-night. [_He closes the door and stands before the clock, studying it. While he is studying its face the door opens slowly, and the tumbled, curly head of a lad about eighteen years of age peers in. The door continues slowly to open. VAVASOUR unconscious all the while._] 'Tis ten now. Ten, eleven, twelve; that's three hours left, 'tis; nay, nay, 'tis only two hours left, after all, an' then--

EILIR MORRIS [_bounding in and shutting the door behind him with a bang_]. Boo! Whoo--o--o!

VAVASOUR [_his face blanched, dropping limply on to the settle_]. The devil!

EILIR MORRIS [_troubled_]. Uch, the pity, Uncle! I didn't think, an'

ye're ill!

VAVASOUR. Tut, tut, 'tis no matter, an' I'm not ill--not ill at all, but Eilir, lad, ye're kin, an'--could ye promise never to tell?

EILIR MORRIS [_who thinks his uncle has been drinking, speaks to him as if he would humor his whim_]. Aye, Uncle, I'm kin, an' I promise.

Tell on. What is it? Are ye sick?