FRANKIE, a gangling girl of twelve with blond hair cut like a boy’s, is wearing shorts and a sombrero and is standing in the arbor gazing adoringly at her brother JARVIS and his fiancée JANICE. She is a dreamy, restless girl, and periods of energetic activity alternate with a rapt attention to her inward world of fantasy. She is thin and awkward and very much aware of being too tall. JARVIS, a good-looking boy of twenty-one, wearing an army uniform, stands by JANICE. He is awkward when he first appears because this is his betrothal visit. JANICE, a young, pretty, fresh-looking girl of eighteen or nineteen is charming but rather ordinary, with brown hair done up in a small knot. She is dressed in her best clothes and is anxious to be liked by her new family. MR. ADDAMS, Frankie’s father, is a deliberate and absent-minded man of about forty-five. A widower of many years, he has become set in his habits. He is dressed conservatively, and there is about him an old-fashioned look and manner. JOHN HENRY, Frankie’s small cousin, aged seven, picks and eats any scuppernongs he can reach. He is a delicate, active boy and wears gold-rimmed spectacles which give him an oddly judicious look. He is blond and sunburned and when we first see him he is wearing a sun-suit and is barefooted.
(BERENICE SADIE BROWN is busy in the kitchen.)
JARVIS: Seems to me like this old arbor has shrunk. I remember when I was a child it used to seem absolutely enormous. When I was Frankie’s age, I had a vine swing here. Remember, Papa?
FRANKIE: It don’t seem so absolutely enormous to me, because I am so tall.
JARVIS: I never saw a human grow so fast in all my life. I think maybe we ought to tie a brick to your head.
FRANKIE: (hunching down in obvious distress): Oh, Jarvis! Don’t.
JANICE: Don’t tease your little sister. I don’t think Frankie is too tall. She probably won’t grow much more. I had the biggest portion of my growth by the time I was thirteen.
FRANKIE: But I’m just twelve. When I think of all the growing years ahead of me, I get scared.
(JANICE goes to FRANKIE and puts her arms around her comfortingly. FRANKIE stands rigid, embarrassed and blissful.)
JANICE: I wouldn’t worry.
(BERENICE comes from the kitchen with a tray of drinks. FRANKIE rushes eagerly to help her serve them.)
FRANKIE: Let me help.
BERENICE: Them two drinks is lemonade for you and John Henry. The others got liquor in them.
FRANKIE: Janice, come sit on the arbor seat. Jarvis, you sit down too.
(JARVIS and JANICE sit close together on the wicker bench in the arbor. Frankie hands the drinks around, then perches on the ground before JANICE and JARVIS and stares adoringly at them.)
FRANKIE: It was such a surprise when Jarvis wrote home you are going to be married.
JANICE: I hope it wasn’t a bad surprise.
FRANKIE: Oh, Heavens no! (with great feeling) As a matter of fact . . . (She strokes JANICE’s shoes tenderly and JARVIS’ army boot.) If only you knew how I feel.
MR. ADDAMS: Frankie’s been bending my ears ever since your letter came, Jarvis. Going on about weddings, brides, grooms, etc.
JANICE: It’s lovely that we can be married at Jarvis’ home.
MR. ADDAMS: That’s the way to feel, Janice. Marriage is a sacred institution.
FRANKIE: Oh, it will be beautiful.
JARVIS: Pretty soon we’d better be shoving off for Winter Hill. I have to be back in barracks tonight.
FRANKIE: Winter Hill is such a lovely, cold name. It reminds me of ice and snow.
JANICE: You know it’s just a hundred miles away, darling.
JARVIS: Ice and snow indeed! Yesterday the temperature on the parade ground reached 102.
(FRANKIE takes a palmetto fan from the table and fans first JANICE, then JARVIS.)
JANICE: That feels so good, darling. Thanks.
FRANKIE: I wrote you so many letters, Jarvis, and you never, never would answer me. When you were stationed in Alaska, I wanted so much to hear about Alaska. I sent you so many boxes of home-made candy, but you never answered me.
JARVIS: Oh, Frankie. You know how it is . . .
FRANKIE (sipping her drink): You know this lemonade tastes funny. Kind of sharp and hot. I believe I got the drinks mixed up.
JARVIS: I was thinking my drink tasted mighty sissy. Just plain lemonade—no liquor at all.
(FRANKIE and JARVIS exchange their drinks. JARVIS sips his.)
JARVIS: This is better.
FRANKIE: I drank a lot. I wonder if I’m drunk. It makes me feel like I had four legs instead of two. I think I’m drunk. (She gets up and begins to stagger around in imitation of drunkenness.) See! I’m drunk! Look, Papa, how drunk I am! (Suddenly she turns a handspring; then there is a blare of music from the club house gramophone off to the right.)
JANICE: Where does the music come from? It sounds so close.
FRANKIE: It is. Right over there. They have club meetings and parties with boys on Friday nights. I watch them here from the yard.
JANICE: It must be nice having your club house so near.
FRANKIE: I’m not a member now. But they are holding an election this afternoon, and maybe I’ll be elected.
JOHN HENRY: Here comes Mama.
(MRS. WEST, JOHN HENRY’s mother, crosses the yard from the right. She is a vivacious, blond woman of about thirty-three. She is dressed in sleazy, rather dowdy summer clothes.)
MR. ADDAMS: Hello, Pet. Just in time to meet our new family member.
MRS. WEST: I saw you out here from the window.
JARVIS (rising, with JANICE): Hi, Aunt Pet. How is Uncle Eustace?
MRS. WEST: He’s at the office.
JANICE (offering her hand with the engagement ring on it): Look, Aunt Pet. May I call you Aunt Pet?
MRS. WEST (hugging her): Of course, Janice. What a gorgeous ring!
JANICE: Jarvis just gave it to me this morning. He wanted to consult his father and get it from his store, naturally.
MRS. WEST: How lovely.
MR. ADDAMS: A quarter carat—not too flashy but a good stone.
MRS. WEST (to BERENICE, who is gathering up the empty glasses): Berenice, what have you and Frankie been doing to my John Henry? He sticks over here in your kitchen morning, noon and night.
BERENICE: We enjoys him and Candy seems to like it over here.
MRS. WEST: What on earth do you do to him?
BERENICE: We just talks and passes the time of day. Occasionally plays cards.
MRS. WEST: Well, if he gets in your way just shoo him home.
BERENICE: Candy don’t bother nobody.
JOHN HENRY (walking around barefooted in the arbor): These grapes are so squelchy when I step on them.
MRS. WEST: Run home, darling, and wash your feet and put on your sandals.
JOHN HENRY: I like to squelch on the grapes.
(BERENICE goes back to the kitchen.)
JANICE: That looks like a stage curtain. Jarvis told me how you used to write plays and act in them out here in the arbor. What kind of shows do you have?
FRANKIE: Oh, crook shows and cowboy shows. This summer I’ve had some cold shows—about Esquimos and explorers—on account of the hot weather.
JANICE: Do you ever have romances?
FRANKIE: Naw . . . (with bravado) I had crook shows for the most part. You see I never believed in love until now. (Her look lingers on JANICE and JARVIS. She hugs JANICE and JARVIS, bending over them from back of the bench.)
MRS. WEST: Frankie and this little friend of hers gave a performance of “The Vagabond King” out here last spring.
(JOHN HENRY spreads out his arms and imitates the heroine of the play from memory, singing in his high childish voice.)
JOHN HENRY: Never hope to bind me. Never hope to know. (speaking) Frankie was the king-boy. I sold the tickets.
MRS. WEST: Yes, I have always said that Frankie has talent.
FRANKIE: Aw, I’m afraid I don’t have much talent.
JOHN HENRY: Frankie can laugh and kill people good. She can die, too.
FRANKIE (with some pride): Yeah, I guess I die all right.
MR. ADDAMS: Frankie rounds up John Henry and those smaller children, but by the time she dresses them in the costumes, they’re worn out and won’t act in the show.
JARVIS (looking at his watch): Well, it’s time we shove off for Winter Hill—Frankie’s land of icebergs and snow—where the temperature goes up to 102.
(JARVIS takes JANICE’s hand. He gets up and gazes fondly around the yard and the arbor. He pulls her up and stands with his arm around her, gazing around him at the arbor and yard.)
JARVIS: It carries me back—this smell of mashed grapes and dust. I remember all the endless summer afternoons of my childhood. It does carry me back.
FRANKIE: Me too. It carries me back, too.
MR. ADDAMS (putting one arm around JANICE and shaking JARVIS’ hand): Merciful Heavens! It seems I have two Methuselahs in my family! Does it carry you back to your childhood too, John Henry?
JOHN HENRY: Yes, Uncle Royal.
MR. ADDAMS: Son, this visit was a real pleasure. Janice, I’m mighty pleased to see my boy has such lucky judgment in choosing a wife.
FRANKIE: I hate to think you have to go. I’m just now realizing you’re here.
JARVIS: We’ll be back in two days. The wedding is Sunday.
(The family move around the house toward the street. JOHN HENRY enters the kitchen through the back door. There are the sounds of “good-byes” from the front yard.)
JOHN HENRY: Frankie was drunk. She drank a liquor drink.
BERENICE: She just made out like she was drunk—pretended.
JOHN HENRY: She said, “Look, Papa, how drunk I am,” and she couldn’t walk.
FRANKIE’S VOICE: Good-bye, Jarvis. Good-bye, Janice.
JARVIS’ VOICE: See you Sunday.
MR. ADDAMS’ VOICE: Drive carefully, son. Good-bye, Janice.
JANICE’S VOICE: Good-bye and thanks, Mr. Addams. Good-bye, Frankie darling.
ALL THE VOICES: Good-bye! Good-bye!
JOHN HENRY: They are going now to Winter Hill.
(There is the sound of the front door opening, then of steps in the hall. FRANKIE enters through the hall.)
FRANKIE: Oh, I can’t understand it! The way it all just suddenly happened.
BERENICE: Happened? Happened?
FRANKIE: I have never been so puzzled.
BERENICE: Puzzled about what?
FRANKIE: The whole thing. They are so beautiful.
BERENICE (after a pause): I believe the sun done fried your brains.
JOHN HENRY (whispering): Me too.
BERENICE: Look here at me. You jealous.
FRANKIE: Jealous?
BERENICE: Jealous because your brother’s going to be married.
FRANKIE (slowly): No. I just never saw any two people like them. When they walked in the house today it was so queer.
BERENICE: You jealous. Go and behold yourself in the mirror. I can see from the color of your eyes.
(FRANKIE goes to the mirror and stares. She draws up her left shoulder, shakes her head, and turns away.)
FRANKIE (with feeling): Oh! They were the two prettiest people I ever saw. I just can’t understand how it happened.
BERENICE: Whatever ails you?—actin’ so queer.
FRANKIE: I don’t know. I bet they have a good time every minute of the day.
JOHN HENRY: Less us have a good time.
FRANKIE: Us have a good time? Us? (She rises and walks around the table.)
BERENICE: Come on. Less have a game of three-handed bridge.
(They sit down to the table, shuffle the cards, deal, and play a game.)
FRANKIE: Oregon, Alaska, Winter Hill, the wedding. It’s all so queer.
BERENICE: I can’t bid, never have a hand these days.
FRANKIE: A spade.
JOHN HENRY: I want to bid spades. That’s what I was going to bid.
FRANKIE: Well, that’s your tough luck. I bid them first.
JOHN HENRY: Oh, you fool jackass! It’s not fair!
BERENICE: Hush quarreling, you two. (She looks at both their hands.) To tell the truth, I don’t think either of you got such a grand hand to fight over the bid about. Where is the cards? I haven’t had no kind of a hand all week.
FRANKIE: I don’t give a durn about it. It is immaterial with me. (There is a long pause. She sits with her head propped on her hand, her legs wound around each other.) Let’s talk about them—and the wedding.
BERENICE: What you want to talk about?
FRANKIE: My heart feels them going away—going farther and farther away—while I am stuck here by myself.
BERENICE: You ain’t here by yourself. By the way, where’s your Pa?
FRANKIE: He went to the store. I think about them, but I remembered them more as a feeling than as a picture.
BERENICE: A feeling?
FRANKIE: They were the two prettiest people I ever saw. Yet it was like I couldn’t see all of them I wanted to see. My brains couldn’t gather together quick enough to take it all in. And then they were gone.
BERENICE: Well, stop commenting about it. You don’t have your mind on the game.
FRANKIE (playing her cards, followed by JOHN HENRY): Spades are trumps and you got a spade. I have some of my mind on the game.
(JOHN HENRY puts his donkey necklace in his mouth and looks away.)
FRANKIE: Go on, cheater.
BERENICE: Make haste.
JOHN HENRY: I can’t. It’s a king. The only spade I got is a king, and I don’t want to play my king under Frankie’s ace. And I’m not going to do it either.
FRANKIE (throwing her cards down on the table): See, Berenice, he cheats!
BERENICE: Play your king, John Henry. You have to follow the rules of the game.
JOHN HENRY: My king. It isn’t fair.
FRANKIE: Even with this trick, I can’t win.
BERENICE: Where is the cards? For three days I haven’t had a decent hand. I’m beginning to suspicion something. Come on less us count these old cards.
FRANKIE: We’ve worn these old cards out. If you would eat these old cards, they would taste like a combination of all the dinners of this summer together with a sweaty-handed, nasty taste. Why, the jacks and the queens are missing.
BERENICE: John Henry, how come you do a thing like that? So that’s why you asked for the scissors and stole off quiet behind the arbor. Now Candy, how come you took our playing cards and cut out the pictures?
JOHN HENRY: Because I wanted them. They’re cute.
FRANKIE: See? He’s nothing but a child. It’s hopeless. Hopeless!
BERENICE: Maybe so.
FRANKIE: We’ll just have to put him out of the game. He’s entirely too young.
(JOHN HENRY whimpers.)
BERENICE: Well, we can’t put Candy out of the game. We gotta have a third to play. Besides, by the last count he owes me close to three million dollars.
FRANKIE: Oh, I am sick unto death. (She sweeps the cards from the table, then gets up and begins walking around the kitchen. JOHN HENRY leaves the table and picks up a large blonde doll on the chair in the corner.) I wish they’d taken me with them to Winter Hill this afternoon. I wish tomorrow was Sunday instead of Saturday.
BERENICE: Sunday will come.
FRANKIE: I doubt it. I wish I was going somewhere for good. I wish I had a hundred dollars and could just light out and never see this town again.
BERENICE: It seems like you wish for a lot of things.
FRANKIE: I wish I was somebody else except me.
JOHN HENRY (holding the doll): You serious when you gave me the doll a while ago?
FRANKIE: It gives me a pain just to think about them.
BERENICE: It is a known truth that gray-eyed peoples are jealous.
(There are sounds of children playing in the neighboring yard.)
JOHN HENRY: Let’s go out and play with the children.
FRANKIE: I don’t want to.
JOHN HENRY: There’s a big cro
wd, and they sound like they having a mighty good time. Less go.
FRANKIE: You got ears. You heard me.
JOHN HENRY: I think maybe I better go home.
FRANKIE: Why, you said you were going to spend the night. You just can’t eat dinner and then go off in the afternoon like that.
JOHN HENRY: I know it.
BERENICE: Candy, Lamb, you can go home if you want to.
JOHN HENRY: But less go out, Frankie. They sound like they having a lot of fun.
FRANKIE: No, they’re not. Just a crowd of ugly, silly children. Running and hollering and running and hollering. Nothing to it.
JOHN HENRY: Less go!
FRANKIE: Well, then I’ll entertain you. What do you want to do? Would you like for me to read to you out of The Book of Knowledge, or would you rather do something else?
JOHN HENRY: I rather do something else. (He goes to the back door, and looks into the yard. Several young girls of thirteen or fourteen, dressed in clean print frocks, file slowly across the back yard.) Look. Those big girls.
FRANKIE (running out into the yard): Hey, there. I’m mighty glad to see you. Come on in.
HELEN: We can’t. We were just passing through to notify our new member.
FRANKIE (overjoyed): Am I the new member?
DORIS: No, you’re not the one the club elected.
FRANKIE: Not elected?
HELEN: Every ballot was unanimous for Mary Littlejohn.
FRANKIE: Mary Littlejohn! You mean that girl who just moved in next door? That pasty fat girl with those tacky pigtails? The one who plays the piano all day long?
DORIS: Yes. The club unanimously elected Mary.
FRANKIE: Why, she’s not even cute.
HELEN: She is too; and, furthermore, she’s talented.
FRANKIE: I think it’s sissy to sit around the house all day playing classical music.
DORIS: Why, Mary is training for a concert career.
FRANKIE: Well, I wish to Jesus she would train somewhere else.
DORIS: You don’t have enough sense to appreciate a talented girl like Mary.
Carson McCullers Page 26