Annette (goes dejectedly to the door, but opens it again after she has gone out, and puts her head in, calls.) Christmis gif! (No answer—a pause.) Christmis gif, Miss Dayton.
Miss D. Run along, child. No. No Christmas gifts from me. I don’t approve of them at all. (Resumes the reading of her letter. Annette goes.) Of all things! Here’s a letter from the ladies of the church asking me to help with their Christmas tree for poor children. I think I see myself! It is no better than a bid for pauperism. All nonsense! No indeed! Not I. (Reads other letter.) And if here isn’t more of the same! Mr. Fletcher wants me to help a poor woman with four children so she can have Christmas. The idea! As if there was nothing to use one’s money for but buying toys and candy and such nonsense. (Lets letter drop in her lap. Seems to be thinking. Silence.)
CURTAIN.
Scene II: Interior of Mr. Radcliffe’s room. Table, chairs, couch, clothes scattered over the room. Mr. R. is sitting reading the paper, his feet on a chair. He puts paper down, yawns, resumes paper.
Mr. Radcliffe. Jupiter! What a wretched day! Cold and rainy outside and stupid and tiresome inside. (Knock.) Come in. Oh, it’s you, is it, Bob?
Bob (briskly). Yessir. It’s me, sir. Here’s yer mail, sir.
Mr. R. Toss ’em over, then. (Drops paper, takes letters.) Beastly day.
Bob (picking up Mr. R.’s paper from the floor, setting chairs straight, etc.) Oh, no, sir. Fine day, sir. Most Christmas, sir.
Mr. R. (sharply). What of it, then? What if it is most Christmas?
Bob (surprised). W’y, sir! Ev’rybody’s glad w’en Christmas comes.