ACT I
Time: Christmas Eve.
Scene: Nursery or sitting-room, children sitting about, each working upon a Christmas gift. Nurse at one side with her work-basket. All singing a Christmas carol.[8]
Daisy. I just can't believe that to-morrow really will be Christmas!... What do you think of that for a book-mark? [Holds it up.] Don't you suppose Papa will be pleased?
Phil [driving a last nail into a bootjack]. Papa says he can't get his new boots off. If he can't do it now, with this, I'm sure he never will be able to. Isn't that fine?
Sarah. Sure, Master Phil, he'll be wantin' a new house to kape that big thing in!
Daisy. Now, Sarah, you mustn't say that! You know Papa always likes the things we make for him.
Dot [crossing to Sarah]. Sarah, please fasten my thread.... Now, my spectacle-wiper is done. Oh, boys, don't you wish it was to-morrow morning!
Tom. You bet! I'm going to do Papa's knife up in a great big bundle, so he'll think it's a pair of slippers or a book, anyway, and see how surprised he'll be.
Charlie [clapping his hands]. What fun! Say, Tom, don't you wish we could see Santa Claus?
Phil. Let's try and stay awake all night.
Dot. No! you bad boys! Santa Claus doesn't like to have children see him when he comes to put things in the stockings.
Daisy. No, of course he doesn't. And, besides, Mamma has a better way. She told me to ask you all whether you would rather hang your stockings this year, or get Santa Claus to come and bring us a tree.
Charlie. Oh, jolly! But how is Santa Claus going to know in time?
Phil. That's what I'd like to know.
Daisy. I asked Papa that, and he said, Oh, he guessed he could telegraph.
Tom. Then do let's have him come here!
Children. Oh, yes, let's!
Dot. I want to thank him for my dolly's bed that he brought last year.
Daisy. Well, I'll go tell Mamma. [Exit.]
Sarah. Ye'd all better come down and wrap up yer things now.
Phil. All right. Come along. [Exeunt all but Tom.]
Tom. I'll be along in a minute. [Looks up chimney.] I'm so glad Santa Claus is coming this year. [Crosses to front of stage and sits astride a small chair with its back to audience.] There are so many things I want to know about him. I'm just going to count. [Checks off on his fingers.] First, I want to know where he lives. Daisy says he lives at the North Pole, and she's got a picture of his house, with icicles and snow all over it. But then he always brings us oranges and bananas and nuts and figs, and I know they don't grow at the North Pole. I wish I could find out. Next, what he feeds the reindeer on. Next, how he ever gets all the things into the sleigh. How fast the reindeer can go. And whether they ever get balky. He'd be late all the time if they did. Horses do, but perhaps reindeer are different. But the one thing I'd rather know than all the others put together, is just this: Sarah said, the other day when I took a bite out of one of her hot pies, that Santa Claus [very slowly and impressively] would put a whip in my stocking! Now I wonder if he would do that? [Thinks awhile, then shakes his head.] No, no! I don't believe he would. He's always smiling in his pictures, and he looks so jolly. And then, if anybody wanted to spend all his time giving presents, like Santa Claus, I don't believe he would ever put ashes or whips in anybody's stocking, just because he forgot the pie was for company.... Oh, dear! I wish I did know. [Jumps up suddenly, puts one knee on the chair, and holds on to the back with both hands.] Oh! Oh! I've got such a splendid plan! It'll be easy enough to find out, after all. I don't really want anything for Christmas this year ... 'cept maybe a sled, and ... well, I guess Phil will let me coast on his sled. Now, I'm going to be just as cross, as cross as a bear, to-night and see if Santa Claus will give me a whip. I don't care—I know he won't! Anyway, Mamma never lets anybody whip me—only Papa—and if Santa Claus wants me whipped he'll have to give the whip to Papa. There! I hear somebody coming. I'm just going to begin right off.
Charlie [calling, without]. Tom, Tom! Aren't you coming to wrap up your things?
Tom [very crossly]. No!
Charlie [much surprised]. Why not?
Tom. Don't want to. [Chuckles.] He sounded rather surprised. I guess they won't know what to make of it. It'll be such fun! [Sits astride chair again.] Here comes somebody else. I won't look around. [Puts his head down on his arms. Enter Dot.]
Dot. Tom!
Tom. What do you want?
Dot [timidly]. What's the matter, Tom?
Tom. Ain't nothing the matter.
Dot [aside]. Oh, dear! Tom, do you want me to wrap up the knife for you?
Tom. Can if you want to. Here. [Takes it from his pocket and hands it to her without looking up.]
Dot [aside]. What can be the matter? We can't any of us be happy if Tom isn't. [Exit, putting her handkerchief to her eyes.]
Tom [looking after her]. 'Tisn't so much fun as I thought. [Puts his head down. Enter Sarah.]
Sarah [hands on hips, looking at Tom]. Well, what 'ud be the trouble here? [Goes about, putting things to rights. Dusts chair, giving Tom a brush.]
Tom [hits out at her]. Go 'way!
Sarah. Oh, is that yerself?
Tom. Yes, it's meself.
Sarah. Well, what's the matter wid yerself?
Tom. Never you mind what! [The other children run in.]
Daisy. Oh, Sarah, Sarah, give us our coats, quick! Papa says he'll take us along Fourth Street, to see the shop windows lighted up!
Charlie. Do hurry, Sarah!
Daisy. I can't find my mittens!
Dot [softly, nudging Phil]. Phil, tell Tom to come.
Phil. Come along, Tom, and be quick!
Tom. Won't.
Phil. You won't?
Charlie. Why not?
Tom. Don't want to.
Charlie. Well, then, don't! Come on, Dot! [Takes her by the arm, and leads her out. Phil and Daisy look at Tom.]
Daisy. Please come, Tom.
Tom. I tell you I won't.
Daisy. We'll have such fun.
Tom. Well, you can have it for all me.
Phil. See here, Tom, don't be a donkey! Come along! [Takes him by the arm.]
Tom [shakes him off]. Get out!
Daisy. Well, I suppose we'll have to go without him. Papa is waiting. [They start.] Phil, what is the matter with Tom?
Phil. I don't know. Dot said he was cross——
[Exeunt.
Sarah. Ye'd betther remember what I was a-tellin' ye, Master Tom. Ye gettin' ready for the stick?
Tom. You be still and clear out, Sarah!
Sarah. Oh, I'm a-goin'—I'm a-goin'! Shall I tell Santa Claus to make it out of rattan, Master Tom?
Tom. Go on out, I say! [Chases her out.] Well, it's some fun to be cross to Sarah, but I really don't like to be cross to Dot and the others. Oh, dear! I wish I didn't have to. [Sees Sarah's dust-cloth, which he rolls into a wad and tucks into a cap lying on one of the chairs.] He-he! that'll fix her. Now she can't find it. [Enter Sarah. Tom sits down by the fire, holding his knee.] What do you want?
Sarah. Oh, my clearin'-up's not done yet! I declare, if I've redd up this room once, I've done it forty times this day. [Straightens things, then looks for her duster. Tom watches slyly.] Did I take that cloth downstairs wid me? Sure, I know I didn't. Where did I put it, then? 'Tain't here annywheres. Maybe that little squirrel hid it. Seen my duster, Tom?
Tom. No, I don't see your duster.
Sarah. Did I ax ye if ye saw it now? I said, have ye sane it?
Tom. And I said I didn't see it.
Sarah. Well, ye little fox, I know yer tricks, and I'll find it yet. Them as hides, finds, but sometimes other folks can find, too, when they know who did the hiding. Ah! what did I tell ye! I've got it at last. I knew ye put it somewheres. Now I can get my work done.
Tom. Well, don't you bother me.
Sarah [stands with hands on hips, looking at Tom, who scowls at her]. If I were you, I wouldn't scowl like that, Master Tom; yer furhead might stay that way.
Tom. If I were you, I wouldn't either.
Sarah. Ye don't look a bit pretty, Master Tom.
Tom. You don't have to look at me.
Sarah. See, this is what ye look like. [Makes a face and hunches up her shoulders. Tom refuses to look.] Do ye think that's rale handsome? [Aside.] Well, since I can't t'ase ye into a good humor, I'll go on down.
[Exit.
Tom. I did want to laugh at her awfully. If she comes in again, I think I'll just have to.
[Enter Daisy and Phil.
Daisy. We didn't go far, because it was so late. Phil, did you ever see anything so perfectly grand as that last window? [Taking off things.]
Phil. Never! Don't I wish I had that air-rifle!
Daisy. I'd rather have the doll's piano than anything else.
[Enter Sarah with Dot and Charlie.
Sarah takes children's coats, etc.
Sarah. Here, give me yer coats. Now just sit down and get warm for a minute, and then ye've got to go to bed. Yer Ma said so.
Daisy. Let's sing while we're here. We don't know our new carol very well. [All begin to sing a carol. Tom claps, stamps, whistles, and bangs his chair up and down, to put them out. They stop.]
Charlie. See here, Tom, if you don't want to sing, you don't have to, but you shan't stop us!
Sarah. No, sir! That ye shall not. Ye can't stay here makin' disturbances, so just be off with ye to bed. [Pushes him out. Children sing a carol, and curtain falls during last verse.]
CURTAIN