The Skin of Our Teeth
Page 4
The same dying away of the words take place, and on the part of the REFUGEES the same retreat into recollection. Some of them murmur, “Yes, yes.”
The mood is broken by the abrupt entrance of MR. and MRS. ANTROBUS and SABINA bearing platters of sandwiches and a pail of coffee. SABINA stops and stares at the guests.
MR. ANTROBUS:
Sabina, pass the sandwiches.
SABINA:
I thought I was working in a respectable house that had respectable guests. I’m giving my notice, Mr. Antrobus: two weeks, that’s the law.
MR. ANTROBUS:
Sabina! Pass the sandwiches.
SABINA:
Two weeks, that’s the law.
MR. ANTROBUS:
There’s the law. That’s Moses.
SABINA:
Stares.
The Ten Commandments—FAUGH!!—(To Audience)
That’s the worst line I’ve ever had to say on any stage.
ANTROBUS:
I think the best thing to do is just not to stand on ceremony, but pass the sandwiches around from left to right—Judge, help yourself to one of these.
MRS. ANTROBUS:
The roads are crowded, I hear?
THE GUESTS:
All talking at once.
Oh, ma’am, you can’t imagine. . . . You can hardly put one foot before you . . . people are trampling one another.
Sudden silence.
MRS. ANTROBUS:
Well, you know what I think it is,—I think it’s sun-spots!
THE GUESTS:
Discreet hubbub.
Oh, you’re right, Mrs. Antrobus . . . that’s what it is. . . . That’s what I was saying the other day.
Sudden silence.
ANTROBUS:
Well, I don’t believe the whole world’s going to turn to ice.
All eyes are fixed on him, waiting.
I can’t believe it. Judge! Have we worked for nothing? Professor! Have we just failed in the whole thing?
MRS. ANTROBUS:
It is certainly very strange—well fortunately on both sides of the family we come of very hearty stock.—Doctor, I want you to meet my children. They’re eating their supper now. And of course I want them to meet you.
MISS M. MUSE:
How many children have you, Mrs. Antrobus?
MRS. ANTROBUS:
I have two,—a boy and a girl.
MOSES:
Softly.
I understood you had two sons, Mrs. Antrobus.
MRS. ANTROBUS in blind suffering; she walks toward the foot lights.
MRS. ANTROBUS:
In a low voice.
Abel, Abel, my son, my son, Abel, my son, Abel, Abel, my son.
The REFUGEES move with few steps toward her as though in comfort murmuring words in Greek, Hebrew, German, et cetera.
A piercing shriek from the kitchen,—SABINA’s voice.
All heads turn.
ANTROBUS:
What’s that?
SABINA enters, bursting with indignation, pulling on her gloves.
SABINA:
Mr. Antrobus—that son of yours, that boy Henry Antrobus—I don’t stay in this house another moment!—He’s not fit to live among respectable folks and that’s a fact.
MRS. ANTROBUS:
Don’t say another word, Sabina. I’ll be right back.
Without waiting for an answer she goes past her into the kitchen.
SABINA:
Mr. Antrobus, Henry has thrown a stone again and if he hasn’t killed the boy that lives next door, I’m very much mistaken. He finished his supper and went out to play; and I heard such a fight; and then I saw it. I saw it with my own eyes. And it looked to me like stark murder.
MRS. ANTROBUS appears at the kitchen door, shielding HENRY who follows her. When she steps aside, we see on HENRY’S forehead a large ochre and scarlet scar in the shape of a C. MR. ANTROBUS starts toward him. A pause. HENRY is heard saying under his breath:
HENRY:
He was going to take the wheel away from me. He started to throw a stone at me first.
MRS. ANTROBUS:
George, it was just a boyish impulse. Remember how young he is.
Louder, in an urgent wail.
George, he’s only four thousand years old.
SABINA:
And everything was going along so nicely!
Silence. ANTROBUS goes back to the fireplace.
ANTROBUS:
Put out the fire! Put out all the fires.
Violently.
No wonder the sun grows cold.
He starts stamping on the fireplace.
MRS. ANTROBUS:
Doctor! Judge! Help me!—George, have you lost your mind?
ANTROBUS:
There is no mind. We’ll not try to live.
To the guests.
Give it up. Give up trying.
MRS. ANTROBUS seizes him.
SABINA:
Mr. Antrobus! I’m downright ashamed of you.
MRS. ANTROBUS:
George, have some more coffee.—Gladys! Where’s Gladys gone?
GLADYS steps in, frightened.
GLADYS:
Here I am, mama.
MRS. ANTROBUS:
Go upstairs and bring your father’s slippers. How could you forget a thing like that, when you know how tired he is?
ANTROBUS sits in his chair. He covers his face with his hands. MRS. ANTROBUS turns to the REFUGEES:
Can’t some of you sing? It’s your business in life to sing, isn’t it? Sabina!
Several of the women clear their throats tentatively, and with frightened faces gather around HOMER’S guitar. He establishes a few chords. Almost inaudibly they start singing, led by SABINA: “Jingle Bells.” MRS. ANTROBUS continues to ANTROBUS in a low voice, while taking off his shoes:
George, remember all the other times. When the volcanoes came right up in the front yard.
And the time the grasshoppers ate every single leaf and blade of grass, and all the grain and spinach you’d grown with your own hands. And the summer there were earthquakes every night.
ANTROBUS:
Henry! Henry!
Puts his hand on his forehead.
Myself. All of us, we’re covered with blood.
MRS. ANTROBUS:
Then remember all the times you were pleased with him and when you were proud of yourself.—Henry! Henry! Come here and recite to your father the multiplication table that you do so nicely.
HENRY kneels on one knee beside his father and starts whispering the multiplication table.
HENRY:
Finally.
Two times six is twelve; three times six is eighteen—I don’t think I know the sixes.
Enter GLADYS with the slippers. MRS. ANTROBUS makes stern gestures to her: Go in there and do your best. The GUESTS are now singing “Tenting Tonight.”
GLADYS:
Putting slippers on his feet.
Papa . . . papa . . . I was very good in school today. Miss Conover said right out in class that if all the girls had as good manners as Gladys Antrobus, that the world would be a very different place to live in.
MRS. ANTROBUS:
You recited a piece at assembly, didn’t you? Recite it to your father.
GLADYS:
Papa, do you want to hear what I recited in class?
Fierce directorial glance from her mother.
“THE STAR” by Henry Wadsworth LONGFELLOW.
MRS. ANTROBUS:
Wait!!! The fire’s going out. There isn’t enough wood!
Henry, go upstairs and bring down the chairs and start breaking up the beds.
Exit HENRY. The singers return to “Jingle Bells,” still very softly.
GLADYS:
Look, Papa, here’s my report card. Lookit. Conduct A! Look, Papa. Papa, do you want to hear the Star, by Henry Wadsworth Longfellow? Papa, you’re not mad at me, are you?—I know it’ll get warmer. Soon it’ll be just like spring, and we can go t
o a picnic at the Hibernian Picnic Grounds like you always like to do, don’t you remember? Papa, just look at me once.
Enter HENRY with some chairs.
ANTROBUS:
You recited in assembly, did you?
She nods eagerly.
You didn’t forget it?
GLADYS:
No!!! I was perfect.
Pause. Then ANTROBUS rises, goes to the front door and opens it. The REFUGEES draw back timidly; the song stops; he peers out of the door, then closes it.
ANTROBUS:
With decision, suddenly.
Build up the fire. It’s cold. Build up the fire. We’ll do what we can. Sabina, get some more wood. Come around the fire, everybody. At least the young ones may pull through. Henry, have you eaten something?
HENRY:
Yes, papa.
ANTROBUS:
Gladys, have you had some supper?
GLADYS:
I ate in the kitchen, papa.
ANTROBUS:
If you do come through this—what’ll you be able to do? What do you know? Henry, did you take a good look at that wheel?
HENRY:
Yes, papa.
ANTROBUS:
Sitting down in his chair.
Six times two are—
HENRY:
—twelve; six times three are eighteen; six times four are—Papa, it’s hot and cold. It makes my head all funny. It makes me sleepy.
ANTROBUS:
Gives him a cuff.
Wake up. I don’t care if your head is sleepy. Six times four are twenty-four. Six times five are—
HENRY:
Thirty. Papa!
ANTROBUS:
Maggie, put something into Gladys’ head on the chance she can use it.
MRS. ANTROBUS:
What do you mean, George?
ANTROBUS:
Six times six are thirty-six.
Teach her the beginning of the Bible.
GLADYS:
But, Mama, it’s so cold and close.
HENRY has all but drowsed off. His father slaps him sharply and the lesson goes on.
MRS. ANTROBUS:
“In the beginning God created the heavens and the earth; and the earth was waste and void; and the darkness was upon the face of the deep—”
The singing starts up again louder. SABINA has returned with wood.
SABINA:
After placing wood on the fireplace comes down to the footlights and addresses the audience:
Will you please start handing up your chairs? We’ll need everything for this fire. Save the human race.—Ushers, will you pass the chairs up here? Thank you.
HENRY:
Six times nine are fifty-four; six times ten are sixty.
In the back of the auditorium the sound of chairs being ripped up can be heard. USHERS rush down the aisles with chairs and hand them over.
GLADYS:
“And God called the light Day and the darkness he called Night.”
SABINA:
Pass up your chairs, everybody. Save the human race.
CURTAIN
Act II
Toward the end of the intermission, though with the houselights still up, lantern slide projections begin to appear on the curtain. Timetables for trains leaving Pennsylvania Station for Atlantic City. Advertisements of Atlantic City hotels, drugstores, churches, rug merchants; fortune tellers, Bingo parlors.
When the houselights go down, the voice of an ANNOUNCER is heard.
ANNOUNCER:
The Management now brings you the News Events of the World. Atlantic City, New Jersey:
Projection of a chrome postcard of the waterfront, trimmed in mica with the legend: FUN AT THE BEACH.
This great convention city is playing host this week to the anniversary convocation of that great fraternal order,—the Ancient and Honorable Order of Mammals, Subdivision Humans. This great fraternal, militant and burial society is celebrating on the Boardwalk, ladies and gentlemen, its six hundred thousandth Annual Convention.
It has just elected its president for the ensuing term,—
Projection of MR. and MRS. ANTROBUS posed as they will be shown a few moments later.
Mr. George Antrobus of Excelsior, New Jersey. We show you President Antrobus and his gracious and charming wife, every inch a mammal. Mr. Antrobus has had a long and chequered career. Credit has been paid to him for many useful enterprises including the introduction of the lever, of the wheel and the brewing of beer. Credit has been also extended to President Antrobus’s gracious and charming wife for many practical suggestions, including the hem, the gore, and the gusset; and the novelty of the year,—frying in oil. Before we show you Mr. Antrobus accepting the nomination, we have an important announcement to make. As many of you know, this great celebration of the Order of the Mammals has received delegations from the other rival Orders,—or shall we say: esteemed concurrent Orders: the WINGS, the FINS, the SHELLS, and so on. These Orders are holding their conventions also, in various parts of the world, and have sent representatives to our own, two of a kind.
Later in the day we will show you President Antrobus broadcasting his words of greeting and congratulation to the collected assemblies of the whole natural world.
Ladies and Gentlemen! We give you President Antrobus!
The screen becomes a Transparency. MR. ANTROBUS stands beside a pedestal; MRS. ANTROBUS is seated wearing a corsage of orchids. ANTROBUS wears an untidy Prince Albert; spats; from a red rosette in his buttonhole hangs a fine long purple ribbon of honor. He wears a gay lodge hat,—something between a fez and a legionnaire’s cap.
ANTROBUS:
Fellow-mammals, fellow-vertebrates, fellow-humans, I thank you. Little did my dear parents think,—when they told me to stand on my own two feet,—that I’d arrive at this place.
My friends, we have come a long way.
During this week of happy celebration it is perhaps not fitting that we dwell on some of the difficult times we have been through. The dinosaur is extinct—
Applause.
—the ice has retreated; and the common cold is being pursued by every means within our power.
MRS. ANTROBUS sneezes, laughs prettily, and murmurs: “I beg your pardon.”
In our memorial service yesterday we did honor to all our friends and relatives who are no longer with us, by reason of cold, earthquakes, plagues and . . . and . . .
Coughs.
differences of opinion.
As our Bishop so ably said . . . uh . . . so ably said. . . .
MRS. ANTROBUS:
Closed lips.
Gone, but not forgotten.
ANTROBUS:
‘They are gone, but not forgotten.’
I think I can say, I think I can prophesy with complete . . . uh . . . with complete. . . .
MRS. ANTROBUS:
Confidence.
ANTROBUS:
Thank you, my dear,—With complete lack of confidence, that a new day of security is about to dawn.
The watchword of the closing year was: Work. I give you the watchword for the future: Enjoy Yourselves.
MRS. ANTROBUS:
George, sit down!
ANTROBUS:
Before I close, however, I wish to answer one of those unjust and malicious accusations that were brought against me during this last electoral campaign.
Ladies and gentlemen, the charge was made that at various points in my career I leaned toward joining some of the rival orders,—that’s a lie.
As I told reporters of the Atlantic City Herald, I do not deny that a few months before my birth I hesitated between . . . uh . . . between pinfeathers and gill-breathing,—and so did many of us here,—but for the last million years I have been viviparous, hairy and diaphragmatic.
Applause. Cries of “Good old Antrobus,” “The Prince chap!” “Georgie,” etc.
ANNOUNCER:
Thank you. Thank you very much, Mr. Antrobus.
Now I know that our visitors wi
ll wish to hear a word from that gracious and charming mammal, Mrs. Antrobus, wife and mother,—Mrs. Antrobus!
MRS. ANTROBUS rises, lays her program on her chair, bows and says:
MRS. ANTROBUS:
Dear friends, I don’t really think I should say anything. After all, it was my husband who was elected and not I. Perhaps, as president of the Women’s Auxiliary Bed and Board Society,—I had some notes here, oh, yes, here they are:—I should give a short report from some of our committees that have been meeting in this beautiful city.
Perhaps it may interest you to know that it has at last been decided that the tomato is edible. Can you all hear me? The tomato is edible.
A delegate from across the sea reports that the thread woven by the silkworm gives a cloth . . . I have a sample of it here . . . can you see it? smooth, elastic. I should say that it’s rather attractive,—though personally I prefer less shiny surfaces. Should the windows of a sleeping apartment be open or shut? I know all mothers will follow our debates on this matter with close interest. I am sorry to say that the most expert authorities have not yet decided. It does seem to me that the night air would be bound to be unhealthy for our children, but there are many distinguished authorities on both sides. Well, I could go on talking forever,—as Shakespeare says: a woman’s work is seldom done; but I think I’d better join my husband in saying thank you, and sit down. Thank you.
She sits down.
ANNOUNCER:
Oh, Mrs. Antrobus!
MRS. ANTROBUS:
Yes?
ANNOUNCER:
We understand that you are about to celebrate a wedding anniversary. I know our listeners would like to extend their felicitations and hear a few words from you on that subject.
MRS. ANTROBUS:
I have been asked by this kind gentleman . . . yes, my friends, this Spring Mr. Antrobus and I will be celebrating our five thousandth wedding anniversary.
I don’t know if I speak for my husband, but I can say that, as for me, I regret every moment of it.
Laughter of confusion.
I beg your pardon. What I mean to say is that I do not regret one moment of it. I hope none of you catch my cold. We have two children. We’ve always had two children, though it hasn’t always been the same two. But as I say, we have two fine children, and we’re very grateful for that. Yes, Mr. Antrobus and I have been married five thousand years. Each wedding anniversary reminds me of the times when there were no weddings. We had to crusade for marriage. Perhaps there are some women within the sound of my voice who remember that crusade and those struggles; we fought for it, didn’t we? We chained ourselves to lampposts and we made disturbances in the Senate,—anyway, at last we women got the ring.