Delphi Complete Works of William Dean Howells

by William Dean Howells

  Roberts: “Hello yourself.”

  Miller, invisibly from the shaft: “Is that you, Roberts?”

  Roberts: “Yes; where in the world are you?”

  Miller: “In the elevator.”

  Mrs. Crashaw: “We’re all here, Edward.”

  Roberts: “What! You, Aunt Mary!”

  Mrs. Crashaw: “Yes. Didn’t I say so?”

  Roberts: “Why don’t you come up?”

  Miller: “We can’t. The elevator has got stuck somehow.”

  Roberts: “Got stuck? Bless my soul! How did it happen? How long have you been there?”

  Mrs. Curwen: “Since the world began!”

  Miller: “What’s the use asking how it happened? We don’t know, and we don’t care. What we want to do is to get out.”

  Roberts: “Yes, yes! Be careful!” He rises from his frog-like posture at the grating, and walks the landing in agitation. “Just hold on a minute!”

  Miller: “Oh, we sha’n’t stir.”

  Roberts: “I’ll see what can be done.”

  Miller: “Well, see quick, please. We have plenty of time, but we don’t want to lose any. Don’t alarm Mrs. Miller, if you can help it.”

  Roberts: “No, no.”

  Mrs. Curwen: “You may alarm Mr. Curwen.”

  Roberts: “What! Are you there?”

  Mrs. Curwen: “Here? I’ve been here all my life!”

  Roberts: “Ha! ha! ha! That’s right. We’ll soon have you out. Keep up your spirits.”

  Mrs. Curwen: “But I’m not keeping them up.”

  Miss Lawton: “Tell papa I’m here too.”

  Roberts: “What! You too, Miss Lawton?”

  Mrs. Crashaw: “Yes, and young Mr. Bemis. Didn’t I tell you we were all here?”

  Roberts: “I couldn’t realize it. Well, wait a moment.”

  Mrs. Curwen: “Oh, you can trust us to wait.”

  Roberts, returning with Dr. Lawton, and Mr. Bemis, who join him in stooping around the grated door of the shaft: “They’re just under here in the well of the elevator, midway between the two stories.”

  Lawton: “Ha! ha! ha! You don’t say so.”

  Bemis: “Bless my heart! What are they doing there?”

  Miller: “We’re not doing anything.”

  Mrs. Curwen: “We’re waiting for you to do something.”

  Miss Lawton: “Oh, papa!”

  Lawton: “Don’t be troubled, Lou, we’ll soon have you out.”

  Young Mr. Bemis: “Don’t be alarmed, sir, Miss Lawton is all right.”

  Miss Lawton: “Yes, I’m not frightened, papa.”

  Lawton: “Well, that’s a great thing in cases of this kind. How did you happen to get there?”

  Miller, indignantly: “How do you suppose? We came up in the elevator.”

  Lawton: “Well, why didn’t you come the rest of the way?”

  Miller: “The elevator wouldn’t.”

  Lawton: “What seems to be the matter?”

  Miller: “We don’t know.”

  Lawton: “Have you tried to start it?”

  Miller: “Well, I’ll leave that to your imagination.”

  Lawton: “Well, be careful what you do. You might” —

  Miller, interrupting: “Roberts, who’s that talking?”

  Roberts, coming forward politely: “Oh, excuse me! I forgot that you didn’t know each other. Dr. Lawton, Mr. Miller.” Introducing them.

  Lawton: “Glad to know you.”

  Miller: “Very happy to make your acquaintance, and hope some day to see you. And now, if you have completed your diagnosis” —

  Mrs. Curwen: “None of us have ever had it before, doctor; nor any of our families, so far as we know.”

  Lawton: “Ha! ha! ha! Very good! Well, just keep quiet. We’ll have you all out of there presently.”

  Bemis: “Yes, remain perfectly still.”

  Roberts: “Yes, we’ll have you out. Just wait.”

  Miller: “You seem to think we’re going to run away. Why shouldn’t we keep quiet? Do you suppose we’re going to be very boisterous, shut up here like rats in a trap?”

  Mrs. Curwen: “Or birds in a cage, if you want a more pleasing image.”

  Mrs. Crashaw: “How are you going to get us out, Edward?”

  Roberts: “We don’t know yet. But keep quiet” —

  Miller: “Keep quiet! Great heavens! we’re afraid to stir a finger. Now don’t say ‘keep quiet’ any more, for we can’t stand it.”

  Lawton: “He’s in open rebellion. What are you going to do, Roberts?”

  Roberts, rising and scratching his head: “Well, I don’t know yet. We might break a hole in the roof.”

  Lawton: “Ah, I don’t think that would do. Besides you’d have to get a carpenter.”

  Roberts: “That’s true. And it would make a racket, and alarm the house” — staring desperately at the grated doorway of the shaft. “If I could only find an elevator man — an elevator builder! But of course they all live in the suburbs, and they’re keeping Christmas, and it would take too long, anyway.”

  Bemis: “Hadn’t you better send for the police? It seems to me it’s a case for the authorities.”

  Lawton: “Ah, there speaks the Europeanized mind! They always leave the initiative to the authorities. Go out and sound the fire-alarm, Roberts. It’s a case for the Fire Department.”

  Roberts: “Oh, it’s all very well to joke, Dr. Lawton. Why don’t you prescribe something?”

  Lawton: “Surgical treatment seems to be indicated, and I’m merely a general practitioner.”

  Roberts: “If Willis were only here, he’d find some way out of it. Well, I’ll have to go for help somewhere” —

  Mrs. Roberts and Mrs. Miller, bursting upon the scene: “Oh, what is it?”

  Lawton: “Ah, you needn’t go for help, my dear fellow. It’s come!”

  Mrs. Roberts: “What are you all doing here, Edward?”

  Mrs. Miller: “Oh, have you had any bad news of Mr. Miller?”

  Mrs. Roberts: “Or Aunt Mary?”

  Miller, calling up: “Well, are you going to keep us here all night? Why don’t you do something?”

  Mrs. Miller: “Oh, what’s that? Oh, it’s Mr. Miller! Oh, where are you, Ellery?”

  Miller: “In the elevator.”

  Mrs. Miller: “Oh! and where is the elevator? Why don’t you get out? Oh” —

  Miller: “It’s caught, and we can’t.”

  Mrs. Miller: “Caught? Oh, then you will be killed — killed — killed! And it’s all my fault, sending you back after my fan, and I had it all the time in my own pocket; and it comes from my habit of giving it to you to carry in your overcoat pocket, because it’s deep, and the fan can’t break. And of course I never thought of my own pocket, and I never should have thought of it at all if Mr. Curwen hadn’t been going back to get Mrs. Curwen’s glove, for he’d brought another right after she’d sent him for a left, and we were all having such a laugh about it, and I just happened to put my hand on my pocket, and there I felt the fan. And oh, what shall I do?” Mrs. Miller utters these explanations and self-reproaches in a lamentable voice, while crouching close to the grated door to the elevator shaft, and clinging to its meshes.

  Miller: “Well, well, it’s all right. I’ve got you another fan, here. Don’t be frightened.”

  Mrs. Roberts, wildly: “Where’s Aunt Mary, Edward? Has Willis got back?” At a guilty look from her husband: “Edward! don’t tell me that she’s in that elevator! Don’t do it, Edward! For your own sake don’t. Don’t tell me that your own child’s mother’s aunt is down there, suspended between heaven and earth like — like” —

  Lawton: “The coffin of the Prophet.”

  Mrs. Roberts: “Yes. Don’t tell me, Edward! Spare your child’s mother, if you won’t spare your wife!”

  Mrs. Crashaw: “Agnes! don’t be ridiculous. I’m here, and I never was more comfortable in my life.”

  Mrs. Roberts, calling down the grating “
Oh! Is it you, Aunt Mary?”

  Mrs. Crashaw: “Of course it is!”

  Mrs. Roberts: “You recognize my voice?”

  Mrs. Crashaw: “I should hope so, indeed! Why shouldn’t I?”

  Mrs. Roberts: “And you know me? Agnes? Oh!”

  Mrs. Crashaw: “Don’t be a goose, Agnes.”

  Mrs. Roberts: “Oh, it is you, aunty. It is! Oh, I’m so glad! I’m so happy! But keep perfectly still, aunty dear, and we’ll soon have you out. Think of baby, and don’t give way.”

  Mrs. Crashaw: “I shall not, if the elevator doesn’t, you may depend upon that.”

  Mrs. Roberts: “Oh, what courage you do have! But keep up your spirits! Mrs. Miller and I have just come from seeing baby. She’s gone to sleep with all her little presents in her arms. The children did want to see you so much before they went to bed. But never mind that now, Aunt Mary. I’m only too thankful to have you at all!”

  Mrs. Crashaw: “I wish you did have me! And if you will all stop talking and try some of you to do something, I shall be greatly obliged to you. It’s worse than it was in the sleeping car that night.”

  Mrs. Roberts: “Oh, do you remember it, Aunt Mary? Oh, how funny you are!” Turning heroically to her husband: “Now, Edward, dear, get them out. If it’s necessary, get them out over my dead body. Anything! Only hurry. I will be calm; I will be patient. But you must act instantly. Oh, here comes Mr. Curwen!” Mr. Curwen mounts the stairs to the landing with every sign of exhaustion, as if he had made a very quick run to and from his house. “Oh, he will help — I know he will! Oh, Mr. Curwen, the elevator is caught just below here with my aunt in it and Mrs. Miller’s husband” —

  Lawton: “And my girl.”

  Bemis: “And my boy.”

  Mrs. Curwen, calling up: “And your wife!”

  Curwen, horror-struck: “And my wife! Oh, heavenly powers! what are we going to do? How shall we get them out? Why don’t they come up?”

  All: “They can’t.”

  Curwen: “Can’t? Oh, my goodness!” He flies at the grating, and kicks and beats it.

  Roberts: “Hold on! What’s the use of that?”

  Lawton: “You couldn’t get at them if you beat the door down.”

  Bemis: “Certainly not.” They lay hands upon him and restrain him.

  Curwen, struggling: “Let me speak to my wife! Will you prevent a husband from speaking to his own wife?”

  Mrs. Miller, in blind admiration of his frenzy: “Yes, that’s just what I said. If some one had beaten the door in at once” —

  Mrs. Roberts: “Oh, Edward, dear, let him speak to his wife.” Tearfully: “Think if I were there!”

  Roberts, releasing him: “He may speak to his wife all night. But he mustn’t knock the house down.”

  Curwen, rushing at the grating: “Caroline! Can you hear me? Are you safe?”

  Mrs. Curwen: “Perfectly. I had a little faint when we first stuck” —

  Curwen: “Faint? Oh!”

  Mrs. Curwen: “But I am all right now.”

  Curwen: “Well, that’s right. Don’t be frightened! There’s no occasion for excitement. Keep perfectly calm and collected. It’s the only way — What’s that ringing?” The sound of an electric bell is heard within the elevator. It increases in fury.

  Mrs. Roberts and Mrs. Miller: “Oh, isn’t it dreadful?”

  The Elevator Boy: “It’s somebody on the ground-floor callin’ the elevator!”

  Curwen: “Well, never mind him. Don’t pay the slightest attention to him. Let him go to the deuce! And, Caroline!”

  Mrs. Curwen: “Yes?”

  Curwen: “I — I — I’ve got your glove all right.”

  Mrs. Curwen: “Left, you mean, I hope?”

  Curwen: “Yes, left, dearest! I mean left.”

  Mrs. Curwen: “Eight-button?”

  Curwen: “Yes.”

  Mrs. Curwen: “Light drab?”

  Curwen, pulling a light yellow glove from his pocket: “Oh!” He staggers away from the grating and stays himself against the wall, the mistaken glove dangling limply from his hand.

  Roberts, Lawton, and Bemis: “Ah! ha! ha! ha!”

  Mrs. Roberts: “Oh, for shame! to laugh at such a time!”

  Mrs. Miller: “When it’s a question of life and death. There! The ringing’s stopped. What’s that?” Steps are heard mounting the stairway rapidly, several treads at a time. Mr. Campbell suddenly bursts into the group on the landing with a final bound from the stairway. “Oh!”

  Campbell: “I can’t find Aunt Mary, Agnes. I can’t find anything — not even the elevator. Where’s the elevator? I rang for it down there till I was black in the face.”

  Mrs. Roberts: “No wonder! It’s here.”

  Mrs. Miller: “Between this floor and the floor below. With my husband in it.”

  Curwen: “And my wife!”

  Lawton: “And my daughter!”

  Bemis: “And my son!”

  Mrs. Roberts: “And aunty!”

  All: “And it’s stuck fast.”

  Roberts: “And the long and short of it is, Willis, that we don’t know how to get them out, and we wish you would suggest some way.”

  Lawton: “There’s been a great tacit confidence among us in your executive ability and your inventive genius.”

  Mrs. Roberts: “Oh, yes, we know you can do it.”

  Mrs. Miller: “If you can’t, nothing can save them.”

  Campbell, going to the grating: “Miller!”

  Miller: “Well?”

  Campbell: “Start her up!”

  Miller: “Now, look here, Campbell, we are not going to stand that; we’ve had enough of it. I speak for the whole elevator. Don’t you suppose that if it had been possible to start her up we” —

  Mrs. Curwen: “We shouldn’t have been at the moon by this time.”

  Campbell: “Well, then, start her down!”

  Miller: “I never thought of that.” To the Elevator Boy: “Start her down.” To the people on the landing above: “Hurrah! She’s off!”

  Campbell: “Well, now start her up!”

  A joint cry from the elevator: “Thank you! we’ll walk up this time.”

  Miller: “Here! let us out at this landing!” They are heard precipitately emerging, with sighs and groans of relief, on the floor below.

  Mrs. Roberts, devoutly: “O Willis, it seems like an interposition of Providence, your coming just at this moment.”

  Campbell: “Interposition of common sense! These hydraulic elevators weaken sometimes, and can’t go any farther.”

  Roberts, to the shipwrecked guests, who arrive at the top of the stairs, crestfallen, spent, and clinging to one another for support: “Why didn’t you think of starting her down, some of you?”

  Mrs. Roberts, welcoming them with kisses and hand-shakes: “I should have thought it would occur to you at once.”

  Miller, goaded to exasperation: “Did it occur to any of you?”

  Lawton, with sublime impudence: “It occurred to all of us. But we naturally supposed you had tried it.”

  Mrs. Miller, taking possession of her husband: “Oh, what a fright you have given us!”

  Miller: “I given you! Do you suppose I did it out of a joke, or voluntarily?”

  Mrs. Roberts: “Aunty, I don’t know what to say to you. You ought to have been here long ago, before anything happened.”

  Mrs. Crashaw: “Oh, I can explain everything in due season. What I wish you to do now is to let me get at Willis, and kiss him.” As Campbell submits to her embrace: “You dear, good fellow! If it hadn’t been for your presence of mind, I don’t know how we should ever have got out of that horrid pen.”

  Mrs. Curwen, giving him her hand: “As it isn’t proper for me to kiss you” —

  Campbell: “Well, I don’t know. I don’t wish to be too modest.”

  Mrs. Curwen: “I think I shall have to vote you a service of plate.”

  Mrs. Roberts: “Come and look at the pattern of mine. And,
Willis, as you are the true hero of the occasion, you shall take me in to dinner. And I am not going to let anybody go before you.” She seizes his arm, and leads the way from the landing into the apartment. Roberts, Lawton, and Bemis follow stragglingly.

  Mrs. Miller, getting her husband to one side: “When she fainted, she fainted at you, of course! What did you do?”

  Miller: “Who? I! Oh!” After a moment’s reflection: “She came to!”

  Curwen, getting his wife aside: “When you fainted, Caroline, who revived you?”

  Mrs. Curwen: “Who? Me? Oh! How should I know? I was insensible.” They wheel arm in arm, and meet Mr. and Mrs. Miller in the middle. Mrs. Curwen yields precedence with an ironical courtesy: “After you, Mrs. Miller!”

  Mrs. Miller, in a nervous, inimical twitter: “Oh, before the heroine of the lost elevator?”

  Mrs. Curwen, dropping her husband’s arm, and taking Mrs. Miller’s: “Let us split the difference.”

  Mrs. Miller: “Delightful! I shall never forget the honor.”

  Mrs. Curwen: “Oh, don’t speak of honors! Mr. Miller was so kind through all those terrible scenes in the elevator.”

  Mrs. Miller: “I’ve no doubt you showed yourself duly grateful.” They pass in, followed by their husbands.

  Young Mr. Bemis, timidly: “Miss Lawton, in the elevator you asked me not to leave you. Did you — ah — mean — I must ask you; it may be my only chance; if you meant — never?”

  Miss Lawton, dropping her head: “I — I — don’t — know.”

  Young Mr. Bemis: “But if I wished never to leave you, should you send me away?”

  Miss Lawton, with a shy, sly upward glance at him: “Not in the elevator!”

  Young Mr. Bemis: “Oh!”

  Mrs. Roberts, re-appearing at the door: “Why, you good-for-nothing young things, why don’t you come to — Oh! excuse me!” She re-enters precipitately, followed by her tardy guests, on whom she casts a backward glance of sympathy. “Oh, you needn’t hurry!”

  EVENING DRESS

  I

  Mrs. Edward Roberts: “Now, my dear, Amy and I will get there early, so as to make up for your coming a little late, but you must be there for the last half, at least. I would excuse you altogether if I could, for I know you must be dead tired, up all night, that way, on the train, but Mrs. Miller is one of those people who never can listen to reason, and she would take deadly offence if you missed her musicale, and wouldn’t forgive us the longest day she lived. So you see?” Mrs. Roberts addresses herself to her husband in the library of their apartment in Hotel Bellingham, at Boston, as she stands before the fire pulling on a long glove and looking at him across his desk, where he has sunk into a weary heap in his swivel chair. “You are dreadfully used up, Edward, and I think it’s cruel to make you go out; but what can I do? If it was anybody but Mrs. Miller I wouldn’t think of having you go; I’m sure I never want to have her about, anyway. But that’s just the kind of people that you’re a perfect slave to! Now, dear, I’ve let the two girls go out, and you must remember that you’re in the place alone with the children; but you needn’t be troubled, because nobody will come after this hour till Willis does, and the girls will be back before that. Willis is to come and get you on his way to the Millers’, and it’s all been arranged for you, and you needn’t think of a thing till Willis comes. You’ll have to dress, of course; but you needn’t begin that at once, and you can just sit here in your chair and rest.” Mr. Roberts stretches his arms wildly abroad, and, throwing back his head, permits himself a yawn that eclipses his whole face. Mrs. Roberts lets both her arms fall at her side in token of extreme despair. “Edward! If you should go to sleep!”