Page:Representative American plays.pdf/832
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WILLIAM VAUGHN MOODY
815
Mrs. Beeler. (Looks again at Rhoda, then dismisses her wonderment, and looks out at the window dreamily.) Another day—and to-morrow the best of all the days of the year.
Annie. What day is to-morrow? (She leaves Michaelis and comes to her mother's side.) What day is to-morrow?
Mrs. Beeler. (With exultation in her voice.) My child, to-morrow is the most wonderful and the most beautiful day of all the year. The day when—all over the whole world—there is singing in the air, and everything rises into new life and happiness.
Annie. (Fretfully.) Mamma, I don't understand! What day is to-morrow?
Mrs. Beeler. To-morrow is Easter.
Annie. (With sudden interest.) Easter! Can I have some eggs to color?
Mrs. Beeler. Ask Aunt Martha.
Annie. (Singsong, as she skips out.) Eggs to color! Eggs to color!
(Rhoda has meanwhile fetched a large tray from the cupboard and has been piling the dishes noiselessly upon it.)
Rhoda. Shall I wheel you in, Aunt Mary?
Mrs. Beeler. Yes, please. (Rhoda wheels the chair toward the hall door, which Michaelis opens. Mrs. Beeler gazes at him as she passes.) Will you come in soon, and sit with me? There is so much that I want to hear.
Michaelis. Whenever you are ready.
Mrs. Beeler. I will ring my bell.
(As they go out, Martha bustles in, gathers up the dish tray and is about to depart, with a vindictive look. At the door she turns, and jerks her head toward the boy.)
Martha. Is it against the law to work where he comes from?
Michaelis. (Abstractedly.) What?—No.
Martha. Then he might as well do me some chores. Not but right, payin' only half board.
Michaelis. (To the boy.) Do whatever she tells you. (The boy follows Martha out. Michaelis stands by the window in thought. As Rhoda reënters, he looks up. He speaks significantly, with suppressed excitement.) She saw the sun!
Rhoda. Poor dear Auntie!
Michaelis. You pity her?
Rhoda. (After an instant's silence, during which she ponders her reply.) I think I envy her.
(She removes the cloth from the table, and begins deftly to put the room in order. Michaelis watches her with a kind of vague intentness.)
Michaelis. How long did you say she had been sick?
Rhoda. More than four years—nearly five.
Michaelis. She has never walked in that time?
Rhoda. (Shakes her head.) Nor used her right hand, either.
Michaelis. (With intensity.) Are you certain?
Rhoda. (Surprised at his tone.) Yes—I have n't lived here long, but I am certain.
Michaelis. She has tried medicine, doctors?
Rhoda. Uncle has spent everything he could earn on them. She has been three times to the mineral baths, once as far as Virginia.
Michaelis. But never as far as Bethesda.
Rhoda. Bethesda? Where is that?
Michaelis. The pool, which is called Bethesda, having five porches.
Rhoda. Oh, yes. The pool in the Bible, where once a year an angel troubled the waters, and the sick and the lame and the blind gathered, hoping to be healed.
Michaelis. And whoever first, after the troubling of the waters, stepped in, he was made whole of whatsoever disease he had.
Rhoda. If anybody could find the way there again, it would be Aunt Mary. (Pause.) And if anybody could show her the way it would be—you. (She goes on in a different tone, as if to escape from the embarrassment of her last speech.) Her saying just now she saw the sun. She often says things like that. Have you noticed?
Michaelis. Yes.
Rhoda. (With hesitation.) Her brother Seth—the one who died—has she told you about him?
Michaelis. Yes.
Rhoda. What she thinks happens—since—he died? (Michaelis nods assent.) And yet in most other ways her mind is perfectly clear.
Michaelis. Perhaps in this way it is clearer still.
Rhoda. (Startled.) You mean—that maybe she really does—see her brother?
Michaelis. It may be.
Rhoda. It would make the world a very