Green Stockings Part 4

CELIA. (_Crossing to chair_ L. _of table_ R. _and sitting_) Letters for me?

PHYLLIS. One is a big one. (_Gives_ CELIA _letters, kneeling on sofa_.)

CELIA. I don't suppose any of them are very important.

PHYLLIS. (_Pityingly_) No, I don't suppose so.

CELIA. (_Looking at letters_) Circulars. Circulars. (_Tears open one envelope and takes out circular letter. Then seeing big envelope, says brightly as she picks it up and draws out fas.h.i.+on plates_) Oh, spring fas.h.i.+ons.

PHYLLIS. (_With an air of superiority_) Oh, _you_ don't want those.

Give them to _me_.

(CELIA _submissively hands them, over, leaving large blue envelope on table_. PHYLLIS _takes them and sits on sofa with_ TARVER, _who has come down after lighting his cigarette. They hold hands, backs to_ CELIA, _looking at fas.h.i.+ons_.)

CELIA. (_Reading letter that she has opened_) "Dear Sir or Madam: Having secured our unparalleled stock of sherry wine on a falling market----" (_Drops envelope and opens another. Reads_) "Dear Madam: You are cordially invited to attend our spring opening of household linens--"

FARADAY. (_Coming from card room_) Madge, you will play?

MADGE. No, thanks, I'll finish my letter. (_Who has been talking to_ AUNT IDA, _goes back to writing table up_ R. _and resumes writing_.)

FARADAY. (_Disappointedly_) And Phyllis doesn't.

AUNT IDA. Well, there's Celia.

FARADAY. (_Coming down to_ CELIA,) G.o.d bless my soul! Of course, why did I forget?

CELIA. Oh--that's all right, Father. (_Cheerfully opening her letters_) It's being done, you know.

FARADAY. (_To_ TARVER _and_ PHYLLIS, _who are seated on sofa, holding hands_) Now, then, you two, none of that! No holding hands! (_They rise quickly, looking embarra.s.sed and facing father_.) You are; not engaged yet, you know.

CELIA. (_Happily_) Engaged? Phyllis and Mr. Tarver?

FARADAY. (_Rea.s.suringly_) No, no, certainly not. Nothing of the kind.

Cheer up, my dear. (_Patting_ CELIA _on the shoulder_) You don't suppose I would allow a chick like _Phyllis_ to marry with you on my hands still?

AUNT IDA. (_Who has been watching him and listening to him_) William!

(_She takes him by the arm and they go up to the card room together_.)

(_There are now in the card room_ GRICE, FARADAY, STEELE, RALEIGH, LADY TRENCHARD _and_ AUNT IDA. AUNT IDA _is out of sight_. RALEIGH, LADY TRENCHARD, GRICE _and_ FARADAY _are playing_. STEELE _is circulating about above table_. TARVER _goes up in the morning room, sits left of table, and reads a magazine_. CELIA _rises and goes to_ PHYLLIS, _who meets her below sofa_.)

CELIA. Phyllis----?

PHYLLIS. (_Eagerly_) Oh, Celia, you don't really mind, do you? Just because _you can't_--I mean, because you _don't want_ to--get married, you won't try to stop Bobby and me, will you?

CELIA. (_In a hurt tone_) Phyllis--dear----

PHYLLIS. (_Relieved_) I knew you wouldn't. I _told_ Bobby----!

CELIA. And do you mean to say that Mr. Tarver---- (_Controlling herself with effort_) Phyllis, dear---- You ought to know--by now--there isn't anything I wouldn't do to make my littlest sister happy. (_Patting_ PHYLLIS _on cheek_.)

PHYLLIS. (_Carelessly engrossed in her own affairs_) Oh, of course, I _know_ that. But, Celia, you're quite mistaken and unjust about poor Bobby.

CELIA. (_Smiling, rather bitterly_) Oh--I hope not, Phyllis. I--can't stand--injustice!

PHYLLIS. (_Kneeling on stool_ R.C.) _But you are!_ In spite of all his worries and preoccupations about his election, Bobby takes the _greatest interest_ in you, Celia----

CELIA. (_Crosses_ C. _Smiles ironically_) Yes?

PHYLLIS. I tell you _he does!_ (_Forgetting herself in her zeal_) As soon as he has time, Bobby means to do everything he can to get _Admiral Grice to propose to you!_

CELIA. (_Recoiling_) What!!

PHYLLIS. (_Crestfallen_) Oh--I oughtn't to have told you, I suppose.

But it's true, all the same. (_Reproachfully_) You don't appreciate Bobby's _n.o.ble nature_, Celia. You don't know how Bobby realizes your--your _loneliness_, Celia. Unless you could hear him talk about you, you'd never guess how much darling Bobby _pities_ you.

CELIA. (_In a changed voice_) Phyllis. One moment, please---- (_With an effort at calm_) Do you mean to say that you and--and Mr. Tarver have been--been discussing--me? Oh! (_Clenching her handkerchief_.)

PHYLLIS. Not _discussing_---- (_Self-righteously_) Bobby _would not discuss_ anybody. But--you see, Celia, we were all--Aunt Ida and all of us--talking, just in fun, about your having to wear Green Stockings once more at my wedding, and Bobby--(_Laughs to herself_) Darling Bobby, _is so witty_----!

CELIA. Oh, yes--go on, Phyllis.

PHYLLIS. (_Injured_) Well, but he is.

CELIA. Oh, yes--yes----

PHYLLIS. And so Bobby was just being most awfully _sweet_ and _sympathetic_ about your--_your position_.

CELIA. My position--! (_Between her teeth_) My--position! And so Mr.

Robert Tarver was kind enough to express concern, was he--because there was no possible chance of any decent man ever wanting to marry me?

PHYLLIS. (_Half frightened_) Oh, Celia! (_Rises_.)

CELIA. And he makes jokes about my stockings. (_Goes_ L. _to chair_ R.

_of table_ L. _and stands beside it_.) I can hear his jokes!

PHYLLIS. Oh, Celia! Bobby is witty.

CELIA. (_Ironically_) Yes, very.

FARADAY. (_In card room_) I don't think much of that, Admiral.

GRICE. (_In card room_) You don't? What's the matter with it?

(_These last two lines are spoken hurriedly, almost together in card room, as_ CELIA'S _expression conveys to the audience her sudden determination to invent her story_.)