Plays
GRANDMOTHER: 1820, that was.
SMITH: And--you mean you were here all alone?
GRANDMOTHER: No, we weren't alone. We had the Owens ten miles down the
river.
SMITH: But how did you get here?
GRANDMOTHER: Got here in a wagon, how do you s'pose? (_gaily_) Think we
flew?
SMITH: But wasn't it unsafe?
GRANDMOTHER: Them set on safety stayed back in Ohio.
SMITH: But one family! I should think the Indians would have wiped you
out.
GRANDMOTHER: The way they wiped us out was to bring fish and corn. We'd
have starved to death that first winter hadn't been for the Indians.
SMITH: But they were such good neighbours--why did you throw dish water
at them?
GRANDMOTHER: That was after other white folks had roiled them up--white
folks that didn't know how to treat 'em. This very land--land you want
to buy--was the land they loved--Blackhawk and his Indians. They came
here for their games. This was where their fathers--as they called
'em--were buried. I've seen my husband and Blackhawk climb that hill
together. (_a backward point right_) He used to love that
hill--Blackhawk. He talked how the red man and the white man could live
together. But poor old Blackhawk--what he didn't know was how many white
man there was. After the war--when he was beaten but not conquered in
his heart--they took him east--Washington, Philadelphia, New York--and
when he saw the white man's cities--it was a different Indian came back.
He just let his heart break without ever turning a hand.
SMITH: But we paid them for their lands. (_she looks at him_) Paid them
something.
GRANDMOTHER: Something. For fifteen million acres of this Mississippi
Valley land--best on this globe, we paid two thousand two hundred and
thirty-four dollars and fifty cents, and promised to deliver annually
goods to the value of one thousand dollars. Not a fancy price--even for
them days, (_children's voices are heard outside. She leans forward and
looks through the door, left_) Ira! Let that cat be!
SMITH: (_looking from the window_) These, I suppose, are your
grandchildren?
GRANDMOTHER: The boy's my grandson. The little girl is Madeline
Fejevary--Mr Fejevary's youngest child.
SMITH: The Fejevary place adjoins on this side? (_pointing right, down_)
GRANDMOTHER: Yes. We've been neighbours ever since the Fejevarys came
here from Hungary after 1848. He was a count at home--and he's a man of
learning. But he was a refugee because he fought for freedom in his
country. Nothing Silas could do for him was too good. Silas sets great
store by learning--and freedom.
SMITH: (_thinking of his own project, looking off toward the hill--the
hill is not seen from the front_) I suppose then Mr Fejevary has great
influence with your son?
GRANDMOTHER: More 'an anybody. Silas thinks 'twas a great thing for our
family to have a family like theirs next place to. Well--so 'twas, for
we've had no time for the things their family was brought up on. Old Mrs
Fejevary (_with her shrewd smile_)--she weren't stuck up--but she did
have an awful ladylike way of feeding the chickens. Silas thinks--oh, my
son has all kinds of notions--though a harder worker never found his bed
at night.
SMITH: And Mr Fejevary--is he a veteran too?
GRANDMOTHER: (_dryly_) You don't seem to know these parts well--for one
that's all stirred up about the development of the town. Yes--Felix
Fejevary and Silas Morton went off together, down that road (_motioning
with her hand, right_)--when them of their age was wanted. Fejevary came
back with one arm less than he went with. Silas brought home everything
he took--and something he didn't. Rheumatiz. So now they set more store
by each other 'an ever. Seems nothing draws men together like killing
other men. (_a boy's voice teasingly imitating a cat_) Madeline, make
Ira let that cat be. (_a whoop from the girl--a boy's whoop_)
(_looking_) There they go, off for the creek. If they set in it--(_seems
about to call after them, gives this up_) Well, they're not the first.
(_rather dreams over this_)
SMITH: You must feel as if you pretty near owned this country.
GRANDMOTHER: We worked. A country don't make itself. When the sun was up
we were up, and when the sun went down we didn't. (_as if this renews
the self of those days_) Here--let me set out something for you to eat.
(_gets up with difficulty_)
SMITH: Oh, no, please--never mind. I had something in town before I came
out.
GRANDMOTHER: Dunno as that's any reason you shouldn't have something
here.
(_She goes off, right; he stands at the door, looking toward the hill
until she returns with a glass of milk, a plate of cookies._)
SMITH: Well, this looks good.
GRANDMOTHER: I've fed a lot of folks--take it by and large. I didn't
care how many I had to feed in the daytime--what's ten or fifteen more
when you're up and around. But to get up--after sixteen hours on your
feet--_I_ was willin', but my bones complained some.
SMITH: But did you--keep a tavern?
GRANDMOTHER: Keep a tavern? I guess we did. Every house is a tavern when
houses are sparse. You think the way to settle a country is to go on
ahead and build hotels? That's all you folks know. Why, I never went to
bed without leaving something on the stove for the new ones that might
be coming. And we never went away from home without seein' there was
a-plenty for them that might stop.
SMITH: They'd come right in and take your food?
GRANDMOTHER: What else could they do? There was a woman I always wanted
to know. She made a kind of bread I never had before--and left a-plenty
for our supper when we got back with the ducks and berries. And she left
the kitchen handier than it had ever been. I often wondered about
her--where she came from, and where she went, (_as she dreams over this
there is laughing and talking at the side of the house_) There come the
boys.
(MR FEJEVARY _comes in, followed by_ SILAS MORTON. _They are men not far
from sixty, wearing their army uniforms, carrying the muskets they used
in the parade_. FEJEVARY _has a lean, distinguished face, his dark eyes
are penetrating and rather wistful. The left sleeve of his old uniform
is empty_. SILAS MORTON _is a strong man who has borne the burden of the
land, and not for himself alone--the pioneer. Seeing the stranger, he
sets his musket against the wall and holds out his hand to him, as_ MR
FEJEVARY _goes up to_ GRANDMOTHER MORTON.)
SILAS: How do, stranger?
FEJEVARY: And how are you today, Mrs Morton?
GRANDMOTHER: I'm not abed--and don't expect to be.
SILAS: (_letting go of the balloons he has bought_) Where's Ira? and
Madeline?
GRANDMOTHER: Mr Fejevary's Delia brought them home with her. They've
gone down to dam the creek, I guess. This young man's been waiting to
see you, Silas.
SMITH: Yes, I wanted to have a little talk with you.
SILAS: Well, why not? (_he is tying the gay balloons to his gun, then as
he talks, hangs his hat in the corner closet_) We've been having a
little talk ourselves. Mother, Nat Rice was there. I've not seen Nat
Rice since the day we had to leave him on the road with his torn
leg--him cursing like a pirate. I wanted to bring him home, but he had
to go back to Chicago. His wife's dead, mother.
GRANDMOTHER: Well, I guess she's not sorry.
SILAS: Why, mother.
GRANDMOTHER: 'Why, mother.' Nat Rice is a mean, stingy, complaining
man--his leg notwithstanding. Where'd you leave the folks?
SILAS: Oh--scattered around. Everybody visitin' with anybody that'll
visit with them. Wish you could have gone.
GRANDMOTHER: I've heard it all. (_to_ FEJEVARY) Your folks well?
FEJEVARY: All well, Mrs Morton. And my boy Felix is home. He'll stop in
here to see you by and by.
SILAS: Oh, he's a fine-looking boy, mother. And think of what he knows!
(_cordially including the young man_) Mr Fejevary's son has been to
Harvard College.
SMITH: Well, well--quite a trip. Well, Mr Morton, I hope this is not a
bad time for me to--present a little matter to you?
SILAS: (_genially_) That depends, of course, on what you're going to
present. (_attracted by a sound outside_) Mind if I present a little
matter to your horse? Like to uncheck him so's he can geta a bit
o'grass.
SMITH: Why--yes. I suppose he would like that.
SILAS: (_going out_) You bet he'd like it. Wouldn't you, old boy?
SMITH: Your son is fond of animals.
GRANDMOTHER: Lots of people's fond of 'em--and good to 'em. Silas--I
dunno, it's as if he was that animal.
FEJEVARY: He has imagination.
GRANDMOTHER: (_with surprise_) Think so?
SILAS: (_returning and sitting down at the table by the young man_) Now,
what's in your mind, my boy?
SMITH: This town is growing very fast, Mr Morton.
SILAS: Yes. (_slyly--with humour_) I know that.
SMITH: I presume you, as one of the early settlers--as in fact a son of
the earliest settler, feel a certain responsibility about the welfare
of--
SILAS: I haven't got in mind to do the town a bit of harm. So--what's
your point?
SMITH: More people--more homes. And homes must be in the healthiest
places--the--the most beautiful places. Isn't it true, Mr Fejevary, that
it means a great deal to people to have a beautiful outlook from their
homes? A--well, an expanse.
SILAS: What is it they want to buy--these fellows that are figuring on
making something out of--expanse? (_a gesture for expanse, then a
reassuring gesture_) It's all right, but--just what is it?
SMITH: I am prepared to make you an offer--a gilt-edged offer for that
(_pointing toward it_) hill above the town.
SILAS: (_shaking his head--with the smile of the strong man who is a
dreamer_) The hill is not for sale.
SMITH: But wouldn't you consider a--particularly good offer, Mr Morton?
(SILAS, _who has turned so he can look out at the hill, slowly shakes
his head_.)
SMITH: Do you feel you have the right--the moral right to hold it?
SILAS: It's not for myself I'm holding it.
SMITH: Oh,--for the children?
SILAS: Yes, the children.
SMITH: But--if you'll excuse me--there are other investments might do
the children even more good.
SILAS: This seems to me--the best investment.
SMITH: But after all there are other people's children to consider.
SILAS: Yes, I know. That's it.
SMITH: I wonder if I understand you, Mr Morton?
SILAS: (_kindly_) I don't believe you do. I don't see how you could. And
I can't explain myself just now. So--the hill is not for sale. I'm not
making anybody homeless. There's land enough for all--all sides round.
But the hill--
SMITH: (_rising_) Is yours.
SILAS: You'll see.
SMITH: I am prepared to offer you--
SILAS: You're not prepared to offer me anything I'd consider alongside
what I am considering. So--I wish you good luck in your business
undertakings.
SMITH: Sorry--you won't let us try to help the town.
SILAS: Don't sit up nights worrying about my chokin' the town.
SMITH: We could make you a rich man, Mr Morton. Do you think what you
have in mind will make you so much richer?
SILAS: Much richer.
SMITH: Well, good-bye. Good day, sir. Good day, ma'am.
SILAS: (_following him to the door_) Nice horse you've got.
SMITH: Yes, seems all right.
(SILAS _stands in the doorway and looks off at the hill_.)
GRANDMOTHER: What are you going to do with the hill, Silas?
SILAS: After I get a little glass of wine--to celebrate Felix and me
being here instead of farther south--I'd like to tell you what I want
for the hill. (_to_ FEJEVARY _rather bashfully_) I've been wanting to
tell you.
FEJEVARY: I want to know.
SILAS: (_getting the wine from the closet_) Just a little something to
show our gratitude with.
(_Goes off right for glasses_.)
GRANDMOTHER: I dunno. Maybe it'd be better to sell the hill--while
they're anxious.
FEJEVARY: He seems to have another plan for it.