Green Stockings: A Comedy in Three Acts

by A. E. W. Mason

Aunt Ida. Now what was that? (Her eye lights on telephone and a smile breaks over her face) The telephone. Wilson's message. Must write it down. (Goes carefully and slowly to desk and sits heavily in chair. Takes off receiver and places transmitter to her ear. There is a pause as she listens. A look of terror and surprise creeps over her face.) Now! something's the matter with my ears. I can't hear a word they say. I believe I'm paralyzed. Oh, dear. (Looks helplessly about her.) Why doesn't Celia come back? (She has taken a pen in her right hand to write down the message. She holds the receiver in her left hand. She looks from one to the other and cannot make up her mind which goes where. She finally decides and elaborately puts the pen in the telephone hooks with a satisfied smile. She then carefully places the receiver on the desk where the pen ought to be.) It's not us. This has been a dreadful day. (Slowly and carefully rising and looking tipsily about) If I'm to be good for anything to-night, I will have to lie down somewhere. (Goes up to doors) If only for five minutes. (Unlocks and opens doors) I'll have to lie down--I'll--have--to---- (She exits at back to R., whimpering to herself. When she is off, the telephone bell begins to ring. After it has rung for a moment, Faraday is heard off stage, calling)

Faraday. (Off stage L.) Celia! Celia! Where are you, Celia? (He appears from the L. and stands in C. doorway, looking off right. His jaw drops.) What--is--the--matter--with--your--Aunt? (The telephone bell continues to ring. He hurries down.) Here! Stop it! Stop it! Stop it! (Smith enters and comes down L. of table above chair where Celia's coat and bag are. Faraday sees pen in telephone hooks, jerks it out and throws it on desk and picks up receiver. Bell stops ringing.) Hello! Hello! Faraday Hall. Mr. Faraday speaking.--Tell Miss Faraday what? You've made the reservation on the midnight train, change cars at Cobden?

Smith. (Sees Celia's wraps and bag and starts slightly) Miss Faraday going? (Moves R. above table, thinking.)

Faraday. (Into telephone) Nonsense, man, you mean Mrs. Faraday. At twelve noon, she's leaving, not twelve midnight.--What's that you say? It was Miss Celia that telephoned and said she was going herself? Nonsense, man! Don't argue with me. I'm afraid you've been drinking, my man. (Smells telephone) The telephone reeks of brandy! Try to be sober by morning. Remember, we need you in this election. (As he hangs up telephone) I've only known him to be drunk once before--decent chap and devoted to Celia.

Smith. (R. of table) Every one is, sir. She's peculiarly attractive.

Faraday. Yes, but it's taken people a long time to find it out. Now, where has Martin put that whiskey? (He goes fussing about the room) But the men who want to step into Smith's shoes now are legion. (Still looking about and fussing. Picks up brandy decanter. Smells it and puts it down.)

Smith. It's a legion, sir, I'd like to enlist in at once. Have I your permission?

Faraday. Of course you have, my dear fellow, of course you have! (Crossing R.) If I can only find that damn whiskey and soda, I will drink good luck to you. (Rattles door down R. Finds it locked) What do you suppose that scoundrel Martin has been up to? Has everybody been drinking to-night? Come, we'll have to go around through the library. (Goes up to C. door and exits R. Smith follows him. As Smith gets to door, the motor horn toots twice. He pauses and looks back, knowingly, then exits off R. After his exit, horn toots twice.)

(Enter Celia with box supposed to contain love letters and small box supposed to contain watch and pin. She closes the door and deliberately disregards open doors at back.)

Celia. (Keeping her eyes fixed on her box of letters, crosses C. below table) I'm back, Aunty dear. I wasn't very long, was I? I've got my box of love letters. (Holds out box and looks at it ruefully) Well, they will go into the furnace with my own hands. (Places box right of her on table.) And his watch and his pin, infamous things, he'll have those back and a letter with them, that I hope will burn without going into the furnace. (Celia goes to desk and takes up a piece of paper as if to write) Tell me, dear. Did Wilson telephone?