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*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK ALIAS SANTA CLAUS ***
Transcriber’s Note Italic text displayed as: italic
Alias Santa Claus
By PERCIVAL WILDE
COLLECTED PLAYS:
DAWN AND OTHER ONE-ACT PLAYS OF LIFE TODAY
DAWN—THE NOBLE LORD—THE TRAITOR—A HOUSE OF CARDS—PLAYING WITH FIRE—THE FINGER OF GOD
A QUESTION OF MORALITY AND OTHER PLAYS
A QUESTION OF MORALITY—CONFESSIONAL—THE VILLAIN IN THE PIECE—ACCORDING TO DARWIN—THE BEAUTIFUL STORY
THE UNSEEN HOST AND OTHER WAR PLAYS
THE UNSEEN HOST—MOTHERS OF MEN—PAWNS—IN THE RAVINE—VALKYRIE!
EIGHT COMEDIES FOR LITTLE THEATRES
THE SEQUEL—THE PREVIOUS ENGAGEMENT—THE DYSPEPTIC OGRE—IN THE NET—A WONDERFUL WOMAN—CATESBY—HIS RETURN—EMBRYO
THE INN OF DISCONTENT AND OTHER FANTASTIC PLAYS
THE INN OF DISCONTENT—LADY OF DREAMS—THE LUCK-PIECE—ASHES OF ROMANCE—NOCTURNE
CHILDREN’S PLAYS:
THE TOY SHOP REVERIE THE ENCHANTED CHRISTMAS TREE KINGS IN NOMANIA
CRITICISM:
THE CRAFTSMANSHIP OF THE ONE-ACT PLAY
A Play for Children
by
Percival Wilde
Author of “Kings in Nomania,” “The Enchanted Christmas Tree,” etc.
[Illustration: Decoration]
D. Appleton and Company New York :: 1927 :: London
COPYRIGHT, 1927, BY D. APPLETON AND COMPANY
All Rights Reserved
This play is fully protected in all countries by the copyright law, all requirements of which have been complied with. No performance, professional or amateur, no public reading, nor any radio broadcast, may be given without permission of the publisher, D. APPLETON AND COMPANY, 35 W. 32nd St., New York, or D. APPLETON AND COMPANY, 34 Bedford Street, Covent Garden, London, England.
Copyright, 1926, by The Pictorial Review Co.
PRINTED IN THE UNITED STATES OF AMERICA
CHARACTERS
DAVID MILLMAN, JR. HALLIGAN VICKY DAVID MILLMAN, SR. BILL } SLIM } Juvenile Delinquents BESSIE } PETE } MAGGIE } T’EODORE } Uninvited Guests ANNIE } GROVER } WOODROW } CALVIN }
It is Christmas day in the Millman home, and the large room upon which our curtain rises is appropriately adorned for the occasion. The lighting fixtures are gayly festooned. A holly wreath hangs at the big window at the back; more wreaths hang from the doors at either side. There is a wealth of hothouse flowers.
Near the center is a very large and magnificently trimmed Christmas tree; a tree so splendid that you gasp when you see it. It is surrounded by a small ocean of gifts; enough to stock a fair-sized store. A gorgeous bicycle has a place of honor; it is hemmed in by a whole library of books, a pair of boxing gloves, two sleds, a regiment of the very latest mechanical wonders, enough musical instruments to equip a miniature band, and any number of games. There is everything you can think of—and more.
The toys are most expensive, and you wonder how many children are to be made happy by them—and then we tell you that they are all for the exclusive use of David Millman, Jr., who is seven years old, and who would greatly prefer permission to put on rompers, and play on some not too clean floor. But being an only child of a widowed father, and being heir to a string of banks, and at least one railroad, and half a dozen mansions in town and country, he is not permitted to do such things.
* * * * *
As our play begins the room is empty—but not for long. A face peers in through the window at the back, the sash is raised slowly and noiselessly, and a fourteen-year-old boy hoists himself across the sill. He is roughly dressed. His eyes are covered by a black mask with slits in it. Under his arm, with exaggerated care, he carries a gayly decorated box of candy.
He looks about stealthily, tiptoeing about the room. Then he turns to the window to hiss to an accomplice:
SLIM
Coast’s clear!
[BILL, another boy, masked, and wearing a badly fitting beard and whiskers, climbs into the room. His appearance is one-half villainous, one-half pathetic. He is thin, and he is suffering from a cold.]
Shh!
BILL
I ain’t makin’ no noise—not a w’isper.
[He upsets a chair. It is loaded with mechanical toys, and falls with a fearful racket.]
Sufferin’ cats!
[They rush to concealment. There is a dreadful pause. Presently they poke their heads out cautiously.]
Nobody hoid it.
Dey must be deef in dis house.
[He steals to one door and applies his ear to the keyhole. BILL, timid in the presence of so much luxury, moves to the other.]
Well?
Naw—not a sound.
Deef—or asleep!
Slim, pipe de tree!
Ain’t it a boid?
It’s a humdinger! It’s a pippin! It’s a looloo!
[He surveys it from top to bottom.]
T’ink of it, Slim, just t’ink of it: a tree like dat—an’ fer one kid!
Pretty soft, I’ll tell de woild!
’Tain’t fair! ’Tain’t! Here we got eight young ’uns at home, an’ I promised ’em a tree fer Christmas, an’ dey ain’t got nuttin’: not even a geranium! Gee, wouldn’t dey love dis!
[Scornfully.]
Are yuh gettin’ mushy?
[With pathetic bravado.]
Me mushy? I’m hard-boiled!
[Suddenly.]
Say——
W’at?
I gotta sneeze.
Sneeze, an’ I’ll moider yuh!
[He crosses hastily to BILL, and waves his arms grotesquely in a futile effort to prevent him from sneezing.]
Now!... Now!... Now!...
[Thunderously.]
A-choo!
[SLIM hastens to hide; BILL follows. There is another dreadful pause, but nobody comes to disturb them. Presently BILL becomes visible again. Cheerfully.]
Nobody hoid me.
[With unlimited sarcasm.]
Dey t’ought it was just blastin’ in de subway!
Wouldn’t be surprised if dey did. Sounded like it.
Now keep yer eyes open!
[He crosses stealthily to the tree, and deposits his box of candy at its foot. It is a large box tied up with red ribbon. It is very conspicuous.]
Dere!
Yer sure it ain’t gonna hoit de kid, Slim?
Leave it to me!
[Hopefully.]
Maybe he won’t eat it.
W’at kid won’t eat candy?
Dis one’s a millionaire kid.
He’s a kid just de same, ain’t he? He’ll eat one—maybe two. W’at’s de diff? One’ll do de trick fine an’ dandy. It won’t hoit him none—
How do yuh know?
Knock-out drops, dat’s all dere’s in ’em. He’ll go off to sleep just as nice an’ easy—
W’at good’s dat gonna do us? De rest of ’em ain’t gonna go to sleep, an’ dere’s a noice, an’ dere’s a guard dat watches him every minute, an’ dere’s—
[Interrupting.]
Dey’ll all holler fer help—see? Dey’ll run fer a doctor. Dey’ll leave him right here, alone, an’ dead to de woild, an’ den we lift him outa de winder, wit’out nobody to stop us.
[He rubs his hands happily.]
We’ll get a million—a cool million—outa his dad before we give him back.
[Eagerly.]
Do yuh t’ink he’ll pay it?
[Grimly.]
He’ll pay it if he expec’s to lay eyes on dat kid again.
[Anxiously.]
Slim, yuh wouldn’t hoit de kid?
I don’t know what I’d do. I’m desprit!
[He surveys BILL with scorn.]
Are yuh gettin’ mushy again?
[With his same pathetic bravado.]
Well, stay dat way!
[He leads the way toward the window.]
Stick to me, Bill, an’ in a week we’ll be rollin’ in money! A million! A million!
I don’t need dat much.
[Going out at the window.]
I’ll take w’at yuh don’t want.
[Following.]
I gotta sneeze!
[SLIM’S arm reaches up, grabs him by the collar, and hauls him out head first. The window closes.]
[Outside.]
[There is a monstrous sneeze.]
[There is only an instant’s pause this time. Then, from the right, enters HALLIGAN, a brawny middle-aged Irishman, whose business it is to guard the young millionaire. He is followed by VICKY, the nurse.]
HALLIGAN
I thought I was after hearin’ something.
VICKY
You’re forever hearing things, Mr. Halligan!
[Seriously.]
I’m paid to keep my eyes and ears open. I’m on the job.
[He looks about the room, goes to the window and looks out.]
[Impressed by his earnestness.]
See anybody?
Nary a soul!
I’m glad of that! With a young millionaire to look out for, it’s nerve-racking, I tell you! You never know what to expect—you never know what might happen.
DAVID
[Saunters in at the right. He is a winsome, appealing boy of seven, dressed in a most expensive and most uncomfortable manner. There is an eager look in his face—a look of yearning that has never been gratified. What he wants he cannot have, and what he has means very little indeed to him.]
Hello, Vicky.
Master David, you knew you weren’t to come in here until ten o’clock!
[Glancing at a wrist watch.]
It’s nearly that now, Vicky.
Exactly ten, your father said; ten exactly. He’s very busy dictating letters in his study—he’s brought a lot of work home from the office—but he’s going to give you a few minutes.
[Without sentimentality.]
I know what that means: a few minutes.
You’re not to look at the Christmas tree until he comes.
All right; I won’t look.
[He turns his back squarely on the tree.]
I’ll watch the door, and wait.
[He faces the left-hand door.]
[Sotto voce, to HALLIGAN.]
Did you ever see such a child? You’d think he couldn’t help looking.
He doesn’t care about the tree.
[Snapping her fingers.]
Not that much!
He doesn’t want to see his presents.
Why should he—when he has everything in the world?
It’s his father he’s after wantin’, I think. Just that.
[A clock strikes ten. DAVID glances nervously at his watch. HALLIGAN stiffens to attention. VICKY stands erect, expectantly. The door at the left opens, and MILLMAN, a fine-looking man in his forties, enters briskly, snapping shut his watch as he crosses the threshold. He is all alertness and no waste motion—his time is precious—he never forgets that.]
MILLMAN
Merry Christmas, Davy.
[Whose lips are trembling, and whose eyes never leave his father.]
Merry Christmas, Daddy.
[Turning to the others, and handing each an envelope.]
Merry Christmas. Merry Christmas.
Thank you, sir—and the same to you.
Merry Christmas—and thank you.
Tut—tut!
[He turns briskly toward the tree.]
Well, Davy, and how do you like your tree?
[Not glancing at it.]
Very much, Daddy.
It was nice of Santa to bring you so many presents.
Very nice, Daddy.
[Examining the cards attached to the gifts.]
And here are more presents from your little friends—and your uncle Joe—and your uncle Eldridge—and your uncle Twombly—
Yes, Daddy.
[Examining an envelope.]
Here’s an envelope from your aunt Mary—and look what’s in it!
[He draws out a yellow-backed bill.]
You take care of it for me, Daddy.
[Putting the envelope in his pocket.]
Here’s an electric train from Santa. Switches, and stations, and coal-cars—I declare, it’s a wonderful train. Isn’t it, Halligan?
It is that, sir.
You ought to be a very happy boy, Davy.
[Glancing at his watch again.]
I must go now. You don’t mind, do you, Davy? Important cablegrams—letters—
I understand, Daddy.
[Already in the doorway.]
By the way, there’s a present from me downstairs—a new limousine. Later on you’ll go riding in it.
[Rushing to him with pathetic eagerness.]
Will you come too, Daddy?
Sorry, Davy—haven’t time.
[He pats the boy’s head and nods pleasantly to the others.]
Good morning.
[The door closes behind him, and DAVID, as if struck by a blow, withdraws again into his shell.]
A fine gentleman, Mr. Millman!
That he is!
Did you see the check he gave me?
[Shows it.]
Just take a look at this one!
[Fervently.]
The salt of the earth!
A fine gentleman!
[Who has been motionless, now turns to HALLIGAN, in joyous assent.]
A fine gentleman, isn’t he, Halligan?
[Proudly.]
When my father walks along the street everybody stops to look at him! I can see the people nudging each other, and saying, “There goes Mr. Millman.” And the newspapers send men here to take his picture—but father’s too busy to let them do that. And when I go out I hear everybody say, “There goes Millman’s boy.” And all the policemen touch their caps and talk to me.
Yes, I’ve seen that many a time.
And it’s all because daddy’s such a fine man!
[Finding the statement difficult to correct.]
Yes; I guess that’s the reason.
[He is in distress.]
[Coming to the rescue.]
Now you may look at the tree, Master David.
[Suddenly unenthusiastic, barely glancing at the tree.]
It’s very nice.
Is that all you can say about it?
It’s just as nice as the one we had last year—and that was the nicest I ever saw.
[Taking up the gifts.]
Boxing gloves!
[Tentatively, knowing what to expect.]
May I put them on?
Some day, perhaps—not just yet. Sleds!
May I go coasting on them?
Next year, maybe—not now. A trumpet?
May I blow on it?
Mercy, no! Not until it has been boiled.
But that’ll spoil the paint.
Better to spoil the paint than to ruin your health.
[Disappointed.]
Oh, all right.
[Coming to the rescue in his turn.]
I have a list of the presents here.
[He produces a long sheet.]
Two railroad trains—complete.
[Not boasting; simply stating facts.]
I have four already.
Two phonographs.
I have three—and I can’t play more than one at once.
Your cousin Willy sent you a set of books.
And what did I send him?
[Referring to the list.]
You sent him a Boy Scout outfit.
Why didn’t he keep the books and send me the outfit?
[Avoiding the question.]
Your aunt Genevieve sent you a bicycle.
[Interested despite himself.]
Oh, that’s nice!
[He moves toward it.]
[Interposing.]
You may ride on it when you’re older.
But not now?
[With real solicitude.]
You might hurt yourself, Master David.
[Crestfallen; turning to HALLIGAN.]
Don’t read me any more, Halligan.
[Christmas is a complete failure so far as he is concerned. VICKY realizes it, and directs his attention to the gifts.]
Look: a tennis racket.
[Despite himself.]
That’ll be fun this summer!
It will that!
I may play with it?
All you like.
Good! Watch my overhand!
[He swings the racket.]
[Taking it from him.]
Not in the house, Master David; you’ll break something.
I knew there was a string tied to it.
[Indicating.]
Golf clubs.
For the summer?
Naturally for the summer.
[Nodding.]
I see; it’s winter now.
[He sees a pair of ice skates, and takes them up.]
Do these have to wait for the summer, too?
[Impressively.]
You’re to go to the rink with them this afternoon.
That will be nice!
They’re a gift from us, Master David—
From me and her.
[Sincerely.]
Thank you, Vicky.
[He kisses her.]
Thanks, Halligan.
[He shakes hands.]
You couldn’t have given me anything I’d like better.
[He feels the edge.]
They’re sharp, aren’t they?
I saw to that.
[Alarmed.]
Be careful, Master David!
[Smiling.]
You aren’t going to get them away from me!
[He gives them to HALLIGAN, and turns back to the tree.]
Look!
[Following his glance.]
Candy!
[Horrified.]
Candy? Who sent it?
It’s not down on the list.
[Kneeling to examine it.]
There’s no card.
I guess it came from Santa Claus.
[Reluctantly.]
Of course you mayn’t eat it.
That’s all right, Vicky; I don’t mind.
[Who has opened the box.]
There’s no card inside, but it looks lovely.
I mayn’t have any, Vicky; eat it yourself.
Do you really want me to?
Of course, Vicky.
[Eating and smacking her lips.]
They’re good! Have one, Mr. Halligan?
I don’t mind if I do.
[He eats a candy.]
[Watching with interest.]
What do they taste like?
Chocolate—
[Taking another.]
With strawberry cream inside—
This one has a cherry.
This has a walnut.
Santa Claus makes good candy, doesn’t he? Some day, when I’m older, he’ll make some that I can eat. I’d like that!
Another, Mr. Halligan?
[He pauses, and looks toward the door.]
Now, it isn’t up to me to say what I’m thinkin’, and nobody knows that better than myself, but it’s cruel not to let him have a taste.
Mr. Halligan!
Who ever heard of candy hurtin’ anybody?
Orders are orders, and they’ll be followed!
[She relents, and, about to put the lid on the box, offers it a last time to HALLIGAN.]
More?
[Swallowing hard and passing his hand over his forehead.]
No, thanks.
[Rising suddenly and tottering.]
Mr. Halligan—I don’t feel well. Please get me some water.
[Alarmed; hastening out of the room.]
Right away!
What’s the matter, Vicky? Vicky, dear?
It’s nothing, Master David. It’ll pass away in a minute.
[She sways, and DAVID steadies her.]
I feel dizzy—very dizzy—all of a sudden.
Sit down, Vicky.
[Catching the back of a chair.]
I can’t imagine what’s wrong. Nothing like this has ever happened to me before. Oh, dear! Oh, dear! Why doesn’t Halligan bring the water? Why doesn’t he bring it? I’m so dizzy—so dizzy.
[From the hall at the right there is the sound of a heavy fall, accompanied by the crash of breaking glass.]
Halligan fell!
[Reeling toward the door.]
Mr. Halligan! Mr. Halligan! I’m afraid I’m going to faint.
[On the threshold a sudden suspicion comes to her, and she pulls herself together with a heroic effort.]
David! Davy, boy. Don’t touch the candy!
[She collapses on the threshold.]
[On his knees at her side.]
Vicky! Vicky, dear! Answer me, Vicky!
[During the last few seconds the window has been raised, and SLIM has come into the room.]
[To BILL, who follows.]
It woiked.
De kid didn’t eat de candy.
De udders did—dat suits me.
[Rising to confront the newcomers.]
What are you doing here?
We come after yuh—
[Pushing SLIM to one side easily.]
Nuttin’ to get excited about, kid; yer lady friend’s all right—see?
[He leads DAVID back into the room; SLIM thrusts the door shut, and locks it.]
She’s just daydreamin’—takin’ a little cat nap. It won’t hoit her a bit—honest! She’ll feel fine when she wakes up.
What happened to Halligan?
He’s daydreamin’, too. De two of ’em are daydreamin’ togedder—nice an’ sociable-like—see? Dey’re dreamin’ about de little boidies singin’ in de tree tops. Ain’t dat pretty?
[SLIM has come forward. BILL waves a hand.]
Meet my friend Slim.
[Extending a hand.]
How do you do?
[Shaking hands.]
Pleased to meet-cha.
Slim an’ me—we’re gonna look after yuh fer a w’ile.
Yes?
[He looks up at BILL with sudden recognition.]
You don’t have to tell me who you are!
[Worried.]
I don’t?
I’ve seen you before!
Yuh know my name?
Of course! Who doesn’t?
[He pauses while BILL plainly shows his anxiety.]
Why, you’re Santa Claus!
[Overcome and relieved.]
W’at? W’at did yuh say?
[Laughing.]
You’re Santa Claus, and you know you are!
Ha! Ha!
[He breaks into guffaws.]
[Poking SLIM violently in the midriff with his elbow.]
Yuh guessed it right de very foist time, kid. John W. Santa—dat’s me!
[He tidies his impossible beard and whiskers.]
I knew you right off!
Yuh sure did!
[Intensely interested, catching his hand.]
Did you have a cold trip coming here?
W’at’s dat?
Wasn’t it cold, coming all the way from the North Pole?
Well, it wasn’t so bad after we got to a Hunner an’ Twenty-fift’ Street—
[Fascinated.]
No?
Den de goin’ was pretty good.
But before you got there?
It was a wee bit chilly.
It was sixty below.
Sixty below what?
Not below nuttin’. Just below—see?
[He gesticulates vividly, placing his hand parallel to the floor at the level of his ankles.]
Dat was w’ere I caught cold. I gotta sneeze.
Now!... Now!... Now!
Oh, let him sneeze!
[BILL sneezes.]
God bless you!
Much obliged.
That’s all right. I always say “God bless you” when anybody sneezes.
[Returning to the main topic.]
We’re gonna take care of yuh—me an’ Bill.
We’re gonna take yuh fer a long ride.
Are we going to the North Pole?
Foider den dat.
[Approaching him.]
But you gotta keep quiet!
[With a nod of comprehension.]
I know; you don’t want to frighten the reindeer.
De w’ich?
Blixen and Vixen—
—And Prancer and Dancer—
[Decidedly worried, to BILL.]
Did youse see any of dem guys w’en yuh come in?
Maybe dey was under cover.
[To DAVID.]
Say, kid, w’ere do dey keep?
[Puzzled.]
Keep?
W’ere do dey hang out? W’ere do dey park? W’ere’s deir stampin’-ground?
Oh, outside!
[To SLIM.]
I told yuh de house was watched!
[Quoting some book.]
“Drawing Santa Claus from his home in the North, reindeer, swifter than the wind, swift as light—”
[Beginning to understand.]
Hey! I get him now! He’s talkin’ about a noo kind of flivver!
“Swifter even than dreams, sturdy and strong, champing at their bits, sparks coming from their nostrils—”
De kid’s got de right dope, Slim.
Dey’re waitin’ fer us outside: balloon tires, an’ four-w’eel brakes, an’ sparks just w’ere yuh said. Come on.
[Going toward the window.]
They’re in a big hurry, aren’t they? They know we’re coming, Santa Claus. They can’t wait for us! I hear them shaking their sleigh bells!
[Sleigh bells are audible.]
[Much alarmed.]
Do yuh hear dat, Slim?
[With glee.]
Sleigh bells!
[They hide in corners of the room. DAVID cannot understand their actions; he looks about, puzzled. Then a ten-year-old girl, wearing a harness covered with sleigh bells, appears at the window.]
BESSIE
[Softly.]
Bill!
[More loudly.]
Bill! Bill!
[She spies DAVID.]
Is he here?
[DAVID nods silently, and indicates with his thumb where BILL is hiding. BESSIE climbs into the room, bells jangling.]
Bill, we found yuh!
[Climbing through the window come seven more children, in decreasing sizes. The smaller ones are helped by the larger, and the smallest, which is but an infant, is carried by one of the others.]
A BABBLE OF TALK
Hey, give us a hand, Pete!
Look out!
Yuh’ll fall!
Mind de baby!
Gimme a good push!
Hey, you, Woodrow, quit yer crowdin’!
Up yuh go!
[Now that they are all in the room, we may pause to inspect them. They are all badly dressed. Their clothes are torn and shabby; their stockings are full of holes; and they average about three quarters of a glove to every hand. But they are all extraordinarily happy, and not at all shy about showing it. And being BILL’S younger brothers and sisters, they are as tough as the proverbial nails.]
[Emerging from his concealment, looking decidedly sheepish.]
How did youse get here?
We seen yuh go, an’ we run after yuh.
All of youse?
Maggie carried de baby.
MAGGIE
See brudder’s funny face, baby?
[Coming out, and speaking with boundless contempt.]
Dat’s de last time I tackle a job along wit’ a fambly man!
Bill, yuh promised us a Christmas tree!
PETE
An’ we knowed yuh’d get us one!
ANNIE
Yuh said yuh was gonna get one, didn’t yuh, Bill?
So we folleyed yuh all de way—
Yuh couldn’t lose us, Bill!
Not on yer life!
We wanted dat tree!
T’EODORE
[A grand climax.]
An’ here it is!
[There is a chorus of delighted screams as the children surround the tree.]
Bill, what a peach of a tree!
Some tree!
Lookit de presents!
Golly, lookit de presents!
See de boo-ful tree, baby?
[She makes the baby clap its hands.]
[Puzzled, as the children, shrilling their delight, descend upon the gifts.]
Say, Santa Claus, I didn’t know you had a family.
[With infinite disgust.]
Kid, yuh said a mout’ful!
Are they all related to you?
[Not too modestly.]
Me eight brudders an’ sisters—count ’em. Bessie—an’ Pete—dey’re twins. An’ Maggie—dat’s her holdin’ de baby—an’ T’eodore—an’ Annie—an’ Grover—an’ Woodrow—an’ Calvin—dat’s de baby.
Do they all come from the North Pole?
[With injured American pride.]
W’at do yuh t’ink? We’re a lot of Polanders?
De Nort’ Pole? De Nort’ Pole’s warm next to w’ere dey come from. My paw ain’t woikin’, an’ de landlord toined off de heat w’en I didn’t pay de rent.
Rent? What’s rent?
[As BILL gazes appealingly at him.]
Yuh started dis. Yuh tell him.
Rent? Rent’s somethin’ yuh pay w’en yuh get money.
And when you don’t get it?
Yuh don’t.
[Becoming impatient.]
Say, what I wanna know is dis: is dis a kidnapin’ party, or is dis a kid party?
What’s a kidnaping party, Santa Claus?
I’ll show yuh.
[He calls to the children.]
Hey, fellers, we’re gonna beat it.
Naw!
We don’t wanna go, Bill.
We wanna play wit’ de presents!
Lookit de sleds!
An’ de boxin’ gloves!
An’ de railroad trains!
An’ de trumpets!
See de pretty flowers, baby?
[Parceling out the musical instruments.]
Yuh take dis—and yuh take dis—an’ w’en I say “Ready,” yuh all blow to onct.
Nuttin’ doin’!
Ready!
[The din is terrific.]
[Indicating the instruments with some anxiety, and pulling BILL’S sleeve.]
Santa Claus, they haven’t been boiled!
They haven’t been boiled, Mr. Slim!
[And you know he means the children—not the toys.]
Dey oughta be!
All ready? Go!
[The uproar is repeated.]
[To BILL.]
An’ I told yuh not to make a sound!
Say, kid, dere ain’t nobody else on dis floor, is dere?
No—nobody but us.
Bill
[Drawing a sigh of relief.]
Dat’s good. Now, fellers, we’re gonna go—
An’ we’re gonna take him—
[He indicates DAVID.]
along with us.
W’at’s de hurry, Bill?
We don’t wanna go!
Not now!
Bill, dere’s no place fer us to go to.
W’at do yuh mean?
De landlord, he come along w’ile we was leavin’, an’ he says we needn’t come back—none of us—never.
[Rather pleased with her news.]
He says he’ll put de furniture on de sidewalk, an’ yuh can git it w’enever yuh like.
De sooner de better, he says.
Yea—an’ dat wasn’t all he says!
[Aghast.]
He trun yuh out de moment my back was toined?
Yuh bet he did!
He trun yuh out? He trun yuh out?
Dat’s w’at I’m tellin’ yuh.
An’ what did paw say?
Paw says ef yuh can’t support him in better style den dat, he’s gonna quit yuh cold.
W’at do yuh t’ink of dat, Slim? Ain’t it de limit? Ain’t dat de absoloot limit?
[Seizing BILL’S hand.]
What’s the matter, Santa Claus?
[Angrily.]
Aw, nuttin’!
Why don’t you tell me, Santa Claus?
[Bitterly.]
Dere’s nuttin’ de matter—on’y de kids ain’t gonna have a roof over deir heads to-night!
Because you didn’t get money?
Dat’s w’y.
And because you didn’t pay the rent?
Yuh said it, kid.
But why do you want a roof over their heads? Can’t we take them along with us?
They can come to the North Pole too, can’t they? Of course it will be a little crowded in the sleigh, but there’ll be room for all of us if we sit close. And we’ll have lots of fun!
[Meaningly.]
Do yuh hear dat, Bill?
The reindeer are waiting outside!
Aroun’ de corner.
Dancer and Prancer, and Blixen and Vixen—
De reindeer’s name is Lizzie—an’ her radiator’s froze.
[Crossing to him earnestly.]
But it’s gonna get us away from here, Bill! We get outa de city—we go somew’eres in de Bronx—an’ den we give Millman a ring on de telephone—
Don’t telephone daddy; he’s always busy.
He won’t be busy dis time.
[He argues with BILL.]
You don’t know my daddy! My daddy is the busiest man in the world! When he comes to see me, he says, “Exactly ten”—and that means exactly ten. When I want to see him I have to ask his secretary—and sometimes he can’t see me at all.
Do yuh like dat?
I don’t like it—but I guess daddy has to work.
Your daddy woik? W’at fer?
I guess he wants his money—so that he can pay his rent.
[BESSIE snickers. DAVID bridles indignantly.]
Don’t make fun of him! I won’t let anybody do that! I don’t think anybody works as hard as he works! Why, he starts in the morning before I get up, and sometimes when I wake in the middle of the night, I tiptoe to the door of my room, and I can see the light burning in his study downstairs! Daddy works hard—and he looks so tired! He’s so tired sometimes that he won’t let me sit in his lap.
My daddy lets me sit in his lap all I like!
Does everybody call him a fine man?
[A bit dubiously.]
Dey calls him all sorts of t’ings—but he don’t mind dat.
Do the policemen stop and speak to him?
Not ef he sees dem foist.
Do they send men to his house to take his picture?
[With pardonable pride.]
Dey don’t have ter: dey got his pitcher at headquarters.
[Who has been arguing with SLIM in undertones during the preceding dialogue, now turns abruptly.]
Come on, fellers! We’re gonna go!
[Slim takes DAVID’S hand.]
A CHORUS
Naw, Bill!... We wanna play wit’ de presents!... We don’t wanna leave de presents!... We want de presents!
Come on, I say!
[Appealingly.]
Baby don’t wanna leave de presents!
Santa Claus, let them take the presents with them!
[As SLIM releases him in astonishment, he runs to the children.]
Here: you take this, and here’s something for you; and you take one of the railroad trains—don’t forget the tracks—and you take the other one.
[Dumbfounded.]
Yuh’re givin’ away yer toys?
[Busy distributing gifts.]
They want them more than I do!
[He turns again to the children.]
Here: you can carry more than that!
[ANNIE’S arms are full already, but he piles toys on the heap.]
Put these on top. Take them along.
[To PETE.]
Do they let you ride a bicycle?
Sure t’ing!
Then take this one.
[To BESSIE.]
Do they let you go coasting on a sled?
All I want—ef I gotta sled.
Here’s one for you.
[To T’EODORE, holding up a pair of boxing gloves.]
Can you use them?
Kin a duck swim?
Take them.
Hey, Bill, can I have de tennis racket?
How about it?
[And you see it hurts—and besides PETE’S arms are full.]
He wants it more than I do.
[With a cry of delight.]
Gee, look w’at I found! Ice skates! See de ice skates, baby?
Ice skates!
[He pauses; takes them in his hand; caresses them. This time it hurts very much indeed.]
[Almost savagely.]
W’at are yuh gonna do, kid?
[Smiling at BILL.]
I’m going to give them to her.
[He places them in MAGGIE’S hands.]
Take good care of them—and look out for the baby—they’re sharp.
[He turns to BILL.]
And now, Santa Claus, what’s a kidnaping party?
Yuh wanna know dat?
Yes, Santa Claus!
Yuh really wanna know?
[DAVID takes his hand and nods eagerly. BILL hesitates. Then he glares defiantly at SLIM, and turns to DAVID.]
Kid, yuh ain’t never gonna loin dat from me!
[With hostility.]
W’at did yuh say?
[Apologetically.]
I didn’t mean to forget your present, Mr. Slim.
[He runs to the tree and fetches the candy.]
Here you are! And Merry Christmas!
[He gives SLIM the box.]
De candy! Dat’s my idee of one fine present!
And now, Santa Claus?
[Shaking his head.]
Kid, it’s gonna cost me a lotta coin—an’ gee, w’at wouldn’t I do wit’ just a coupla dollars?—but youse a little gen’leman—see?—an’ ef anybody lays a finger on yuh, I’ll moider him!
[He casts a defiant glance at SLIM, and claps his arm upon DAVID’S shoulders in a rough accolade.]
Kid, youse a good sport—
[He bows grotesquely.]
—an’ I take me hat off to yuh! Yours truly, John W. Santa.
[Gasping.]
Youse gonna leave him here?
Yuh hoid me.
But we come here to—
I changed my mind—see? A guy dat’s a he-man can do dat little t’ing—an’ John W. Santa’s a he-man!
I’m gonna leave him here—an’ me an’ de kids is gonna beat it—an’ youse is comin’ along, too; don’t yuh forget dat!
Bill! Yuh said yuh was hard-boiled!
[Crossing to him menacingly.]
Ef yuh don’t believe it, now’s de time to try me!
[He pauses.]
[There is a sudden loud knocking at the locked door at the right.]
Let me in! Let me in or I’ll break down the door!
Beat it!
[There is a rush for the windows, but it stops short as the door at the left, which has been ajar for some moments, suddenly opens, and MILLMAN stands on the threshold.]
[Rising nobly to the occasion.]
We’re pinched!
[Quietly.]
Just that.
[Jerking his thumb toward the window.]
Cops outside?
They saw you come in. They’ve been waiting for you to come out.
[Beginning to cry.]
I want my presents!
[Hammering at the door again.]
Let me in!
Let him in.
[BILL crosses to the door and unlocks it. HALLIGAN and VICKY, both wabbly, but on their feet again, come into the room.]
Master David! Master David! They haven’t hurt you, have they?
[She rushes to him.]
Santa Claus wouldn’t hurt anybody. He was going to give me a kidnaping party, that was all.
[He pats BILL’S hand.]
Master David!
[Producing a whistle.]
Shall I whistle for the police, sir?
Wait, Halligan.
[He turns to the intruders.]
The house is surrounded. There is no way you can get out.
[Most unhappily.]
Yes, sir.
[He takes off his mask. For the first time we see his face: the face of a half-starved lad with big eyes.]
Bear that in mind.
[Most unaccountably, most leisurely, he turns his back on BILL, and draws up a chair.]
Davy, how would you like to sit in my lap?
I’d love it, Daddy!
So would I.
[DAVID rushes to him. MILLMAN settles him comfortably, quite oblivious of the others.]
There. There. David, where were you going with this man?
Not “this man,” Daddy: it’s Santa Claus.
I meant Santa Claus.
I was just going to the North Pole.
Were you going to leave me alone?
I would have come back to-morrow or the next day, Daddy—if you wanted me.
[Eloquently.]
If I wanted you!
Are you sure you would have come back, Davy?
Well, pretty sure.
[He hesitates.]
I wouldn’t want to bother you if you were busy.
[Wincing.]
I’m not so busy as you think, Davy.
No.
Sometimes, when a man’s lonely—when he misses somebody who’s gone terribly, terribly much—he tries to make himself busy. Do you understand that, Davy?
I think I do. You mean—Mummy.
I mean—Mummy.
[His voice lightens.]
But now that my little boy is growing older, I don’t expect to be nearly so busy any more.
[Ecstatically.]
Really, Daddy?
Honest and truly!
[Turning to Bill.]
Did you hear that, Santa Claus?
[BILL shuffles his feet and does not answer.]
[Sharply.]
Yes, sir. I hoid him.
[Trying to speak lightly.]
And now, if you still want to go to the North Pole with Santa Claus—you may go.
Do you want to go?
[Hesitates; rises; looks at his father; looks at BILL—and then, to his father’s unutterable horror, runs to BILL.]
You won’t mind, will you, Santa Claus?
[BILL is silent.]
[In a tone like that of a whiplash.]
Answer him!
[Addressing DAVID, and exceedingly gruff.]
W’at do yuh mean, kid?
You won’t mind if I stay here, will you? I don’t care so much about that old North Pole.
[Tremulous with joy.]
Davy! Davy, boy!
[A mighty effort.]
A-choo-oo—
[After a pause.]
Shall I take them away now, Mr. Millman?
Yes, Halligan.
[Gruffly.]
Come on, you!
[He herds them toward the door.]
Don’t forget the presents!
No; don’t forget the presents!
[The children need no second invitation. They take up the gifts, as many as they can carry, in great haste. But there are more than they can carry unaided.]
Help them, Halligan.
[Surprised at the order, but doing as he is told.]
[And VICKY helps without being told. The children begin to file out at the door.]
[Who has been watching with an eagle’s eye, and halting BESSIE, who is next to last.]
Take the sled!
[Taking it.]
[Stopping MAGGIE and the baby.]
You’re forgetting the skates!
Don’t forget the skates!
[DAVID gives them to her.]
T’anks. Come, baby.
[She goes, followed by VICKY.]
[Burdened with gifts, stands in the doorway, and crooks his finger at BILL and SLIM.]
Come on!
You’re forgetting your candy, Mr. Slim!
[Refusing to take it.]
I never seen dat box before in all my life!
[He goes quickly.]
[After a brief hesitation.]
Give it here, kid.
[DAVID gives him the box. BILL turns apologetically to MILLMAN.]
’Tain’t safe to leave dat stuff around.
[Gravely.]
Why not?
[Hesitates again; then he squares his shoulders.]
De candy’s loaded wit’ knock-out drops.
[There is a sharp intake of breath from HALLIGAN, but his employer is not surprised.]
I guessed as much.
[He halts BILL as the latter turns to go.]
You came here intending to kidnap my boy?
You could have done it?
Why didn’t you do it?
[BILL hesitates.]
Out with it!
[Raising his head, and looking MILLMAN in the eye.]
He was nice to de kids—see? He give ’em all his presents. He didn’t hold out none fer himself. He’s de foist guy dat ever treated ’em like dey was yooman. I’d lay down me life fer him after he done dat!
[He pauses, and continues hesitantly.]
Yuh see, paw don’t woik reg’lar; an’ maw’s sick, an’ ever sence I been old enough to go out on de street an’ sell papers, I’ve been keepin’ de kids alive—an’—an’ dere’s eight of ’em now.
[Once more he raises his head.]
He treated ’em square, see?—an’ I, I done de same by him.
You know where my office is?
Come and see me to-morrow.
[He turns.]
Halligan!
Yes, sir?
This gentleman will leave my house as a gentleman ought to leave it. You will show him to the door. You will send for my car. You will tell my chauffeur to drive him home. And you will see to it that the police do not molest him.
[Incredulous.]
Mr. Millman!
[Protesting.]
[Once more the whiplash.]
Halligan! Do as I say!
[Crushed.]
Yes, sir. I am to send this man home—
[Correcting him.]
This gentleman.
This gentleman—and his friend?
[MILLMAN nods.]
And the children?
Of course the children.
Very good, sir.
[Halting them.]
Daddy, Santa Claus has no home to go to.
I forgot.
[He produces an envelope from his pocket.]
I listened at the door for ten minutes before I came in. I heard every word that was spoken.
[He claps BILL heartily on the shoulder, and extends his hand—and in it is the same envelope that hung on the tree.]
Merry Christmas, my friend!
[Wiping his hand on his trousers leg before taking MILLMAN’S, and painfully embarrassed.]
De same to youse, Mr. Millman, an’ de same, an’ lots of ’em, to de little gen’leman.
Thanks, Santa Claus.
[BILL goes, followed by HALLIGAN. The door clicks shut after them. For a second father and son gaze at each other in silence. Then:]
I gave him your aunt Mary’s envelope.
I know you did, Daddy.
[The two gaze at each other, wishing to say much, but unable to break through their masculine reserve. MILLMAN inspects the stripped tree with elaborate care. DAVID does likewise. MILLMAN turns toward his son, distant ten feet; gazes at him; folds his arms. DAVID observes the gesture—deliberately mimics it to the life.]
Well, son?
Well, Daddy?
[MILLMAN unfolds his arms, and hooks his thumbs into his trouser pockets. Again DAVID observes—and copies the pose.]
Christmas is over, Davy.
[From downstairs comes a joyful din: the blare of toy trumpets, the jingling of BESSIE’S sleighbells, the shouting and the laughter of children. MILLMAN turns his head to listen; opens the door to hear better. DAVID goes to his side, takes his hand, and listens with him.]
Christmas has just begun.
[The joyful din grows louder—louder.]
THE CURTAIN FALLS
*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK ALIAS SANTA CLAUS ***