Fifty Contemporary One-Act Plays Part 161

HAMMER. There's something the matter with all of us. How is your throat, Helms?

HELMS. Pretty good. [_There is silence again._]

HANSEN. Fine weather to-day.

JOHNSTON. Regular birthday weather.

HAMMER. On my birthday it always rains.

HANSEN [_points to the window_]. You can see the sun from here.

BUFFE. I read in the papers about your son-in-law's appointment.

HELMS [_shortly_]. Yes?

JOHNSTON. Yes, we must congratulate you over again.

HANSEN. Helms is the luckiest man in the place.

HAMMER. Has your grandson been here yet?

HELMS. No.

BUFFE. Of course he's coming.

HELMS. I don't know.

JOHNSTON. Of course he'll come on your birthday. He's a fine young fellow.

HANSEN. Yes, indeed, Helms, you should be proud of him.

HAMMER [_sees Knut's portrait_]. There he is. [_All except Helms and Bolling look at the picture._]

HANSEN. Looks something like his grandfather.

JOHNSTON. Yes, it's a striking resemblance.

HAMMER. The nose.

JOHNSTON. And the eyes--look at the eyes.

HANSEN. Yes.

BUFFE. We are looking at his grandson's picture, Bolling.

[_Bolling stares indifferently. Helms casts apprehensive glances at Krakau._]

HAMMER. Look at the gifts.

HANSEN. He's a lucky man.

JOHNSTON [_with a sigh_]. Ah yes, when you have your family--

BUFFE [_showing the stockings_]. Helms got some wonderful birthday presents, Bolling.

BOLLING [_feeling them_]. Good wool.

HANSEN [_suddenly_]. What is Krakau doing over there?

HELMS [_angrily_]. Yes, why don't you stop skulking over there like a homeless dog.

BUFFE [_to Hammer_]. They have quarreled.

HAMMER. I guess so. [_To Hansen._] Have they had a fight?

HANSEN. I don't know.

JOHNSTON. That's right, be sociable, Krakau.

HELMS [_irritably_]. Why don't you get the wine, Krakau?

KRAKAU. How should I know--

HELMS [_interrupts_]. You know it is in the closet. [_Krakau takes bottle and gla.s.ses from the cupboard._]

HAMMER [_delighted_]. Did you say wine?

BUFFE. Wine! Did you hear?

HANSEN. You might think Helms was a postal inspector himself.

JOHNSTON. More than that! He's a millionaire in disguise. Krakau can tell you--he has stockings full of good red gold.

[_Krakau pours the wine. All watch with eager eyes. The sun now s.h.i.+nes full in the room._]

KRAKAU. Hadn't we better push the tables together.

HELMS [_petulantly_]. No. It's my birthday. And we can do very well without your table.

HAMMER. There'd be more room with both tables.

BUFFE. We can't all sit around one table.

HELMS. All right--push them together. [_They do so._]

JOHNSTON. We must fix our tables this way, too, Peter.

HANSEN. All right.