THE DEACON DINING-ROOM: Plain rose paper, oak sideboard, straight chairs, a soft old brown divan, table laid for supper. Large pictures of, say, "Paul and Virginia" and Abbott Thayer's "Motherhood." A door left leads to kitchen; a door right front leads to the passage and the "other" room. Back are two windows with lace curtains, revealing shrubbery or blossoming plants; and a shelf with a clock and a photograph of Ninian Deacon. Over the table is a gas burner in a glass globe. In the center of the table is a pink tulip in a pot. The stage is empty.
(Enter MONONA. She tiptoes to the table, tastes a dish or two, hides a cooky in her frock; begins a terrible little chant on miscellaneous notes.)
(Enter DWIGHT DEACON. )
DWIGHT. What! You don't mean you're in time for supper, baby?
MONONA. I ain't a baby.
DWIGHT. Ain't. Ain't. Ain't.
MONONA. Well, I ain't.
DWIGHT. We shall have to take you in hand, mama and I. We shall-have-to-take-you in hand.
MONONA. I ain't such a bad girl.
DWIGHT. Ain't. Ain't. Ain't.
(Enter INA, Door R. E.)
INA. Dwightie! Have I kept you waiting?
DWIGHT. It's all right, my pet. Bear and forbear. Bear and forbear.
INA. Everything's on the table. I didn't hear Lulu call us, though. She's fearfully careless. And Dwight, she looks so bad–when there's company I hate to have her around.
(They seat themselves.)
DWIGHT. My dear Ina, your sister is very different from you.
INA. Well, Lulu certainly is a trial. Come Monona.
DWIGHT. Live and let live, my dear. We have to overlook, you know. What have we on the festive board to-night?
INA. We have creamed salmon. On toast.
MONONA. I don't want any.
DWIGHT. What's this? No salmon?
MONONA. No.
INA. Oh now, pet! You liked it before.
MONONA. I don't want any.
DWIGHT. Just a little? A very little? What
is this? Progeny will not eat?
INA. She can eat if she will eat. The trouble
is, she will not take the time.
DWIGHT. She don't put her mind on her
meals.
INA. Now, pettie, you must eat or you'll get
sick.
MONONA. I don't want any.
INA. Well, pettie–then how would you
like a nice egg?
MONONA. No.
INA. Some bread and milk?
MONONA. No.
(Enter LULU BETT. She carries a plate of muffins.)
INA. Lulu, Monona won't eat a thing. I
should think you might think of something to fix for her.
LULU. Can't I make her a little milk toast?
MONONA. Yes!
INA. Well now, sister. Don't toast it too much. That last was too–and it's no use, she will not eat it if it's burned.
LULU. I won't burn it on purpose.
INA. Well, see that you don't... Lulu! Which milk are you going to take?
LULU. The bottle that sets in front, won't I?
INA. But that's yesterday's milk. No, take the fresh bottle from over back. Monona must be nourished.
LULU. But then the yesterday's'll sour and I can't make a custard pie–
DWIGHT. Kindly settle these domestic matters without bringing them to my attention at meal time. (Observes the tulip.) Flowers! Who's been having flowers sent in?
INA. Ask Lulu.
DWIGHT. Suitors?
LULU. It was a quarter. There'll be five flowers.
DWIGHT. You bought it?
LULU. Yes. Five flowers. That's a nickel apiece.
DWIGHT. Yet we give you a home on the supposition that you have no money to spend, even for the necessities.
INA. Well, but Dwightie. Lulu isn't strong enough to work. What's the use–
DWIGHT. The justice business and the dental profession do not warrant the purchase of spring flowers in my home.
INA. Well, but Dwightie–
DWIGHT. No more. Lulu meant no harm.
INA. The back bottle, Lulu. And be as quick as you can. Remember, the back bottle. She has a terrible will, hangs on to her own ideas, and hangs on–
(Exit LULU.)
DWIGHT. Forbearance my pet, forbearance. Baked potatoes. That's good–that's good. The baked potato contains more nourishment than potatoes prepared in any other way. Roasting retains it.
INA. That's what I always think.
DWIGHT. Where's your mother? Isn't she coming to supper?
INA. No. Tantrum.
DWIGHT. Oh ho, mama has a tantrum, eh? My dear Ina, your mother is getting old. She don't have as many clear-headed days as she did.
INA. Mama's mind is just as good as it ever was, sometimes.
DWIGHT. Hadn't I better call her up?
INA. You know how mama is.
(Enter
LULU. She takes flowerpot from table and throws it out the window. Exit LULU.)