MOONSHINEBYARTHUR HOPKINS

[Maryopens her hand and shows her a five-dollar bill.

AUNTCANDACE. De Lawd help my life, chile!

MARY. An' look here what Mr. Henry sent you, too. [She undoes the bundle, revealing several cooked sweet potatoes, sausages, spareribs, and some boiled ham.] He said as 'twas Christmas time he sent you this with the collards there.

[She points toward the collards at the window.Aunt Candacepays little attention to the food asMaryplaces it in her lap, but continues to look straight intoMary'sface. The girl starts to give her the money, but she pushes her away.

AUNTCANDACE. [Excitedly.] Whah'd you git dat, honey? Whah'd you git it? Mr. Henry ain't never been dat kind befo'. Dey ain't no past Christmas times he was so free wid 'is money. He ain't de kind o' man foh dat. An' he a-havin' 'is washin' done on Christmas Eve. [Her look is direct and troubled.] Chile, Mr. Hugh didn't give you dat money, did he?

MARY. [Still looking in the fire.] Aunty, I ain't said Mr. Henry sent you this money. Yes'm, Mr. Hugh sent it to you. I done some washin' for him. I washed his socks and some shirts—pure silk they was. [She smiles at the remembrance.] An' he give me the money an' tole me to give it to you—said he wished he could give you somethin' more.

[She hands the money toAunt Candace,who takes it quickly.

AUNTCANDACE. Help my soul an' body! De boy said dat! Bless 'is soul! He ain't fo'got 'is ol' aunty, even if he ain't been to see 'er since he come back from school way out yander. De Lawd bless 'im! Allus was a good boy, an' he ain't changed since he growed up nuther. When I useter nuss 'im he'd never whimper, no suh. Bring me de tin box, honey. An' don't notice what I's been sayin'. I spects I's too perticler 'bout you. I dunno.

[Marygoes to the bureau and gets a tin box. She puts the money in it, returns it, and lights the lamp.Aunt Candacetakes off her bonnet and hangs it behind her on the rocking-chair. Then she begins to eat greedily, now and then licking the grease off her fingers. Suddenly she utters a low scream, putting her hands to her head and rocking to and fro. She grasps her stick and begins beating about her as if striking at something, crying out in a loud voice.

AUNTCANDACE. Ah-hah, I'll git you! I'll git you!

[Marygoes to her and pats her on the cheek.

MARY. It's your poor head, ain't it, aunty? You rest easy, I'll take care of you. [She continues to rub her cheek and forehead until the spell passes.] Set still till I git in a turn of light-wood. It's goin' to be a terrible cold night an' looks like snow.

[After a momentAunt Candacequiets down and begins eating again.Marygoes out and brings in an armful of wood which she throws into the box. She takes a bottle and spoon from the mantel, and starts to pour out some medicine.

AUNTCANDACE. I's better now, honey. Put it back up. I ain't gwine take none now. D'ain't no use ... d'ain't no use in dat. I ain't long foh dis world, ain't long. I's done my las' washin' an' choppin' an' weighed up my las' cotton. Medicine ain't no mo' good.

MARY. You're allus talkin' like that, aunty. You're goin' to live to be a hundred. An' this medicine——

AUNTCANDACE. I ain't gwine take it, I say. No, suh, ain't gwine be long. I's done deef. I's ol' an' hipshot now. No, suh, I don't want no medicine. [Childishly.] I's got a taste o' dese heah spareribs an' sausages, an' I ain't gwine take no medicine. [Maryputs the bottle and spoon back on the mantel and sits down.Aunt Candacestops eating and looks atMary'sdreaming face.] Honey, what makes you look like dat? [Excitedly.] Mr. Henry ain't said ... he ain't said no mo' 'bout us havin' to leave, has he?

MARY. [Looking up confusedly.] No'm, he ... no'm, he said ... he said to-day that he'd 'bout decided to let us stay right on as long as we please.

AUNTCANDACE. Huh, what's dat?

MARY. He said it might be so we could stay right on as long as we please.

AUNTCANDACE. [Joyously.] Thank de Lawd! Thank de Lawd! I knowed he's gwine do it. I knowed. But I's been pow'ful feared, chile, he's gwine run us off. An' he ain't never liked Mr. Hugh's takin' up foh us. But now I c'n rest in peace. Thank de Lawd, I's gwine rest my bones rat whah I loves to stay till dey calls foh me up yander. [Stopping.] Has you et?

MARY. Yes'm, I et up at Mr. Henry's. Mr. Hugh ... [hesitating] he said 'twas a shame for me to come off without eatin' nothin' an' so I et.

[Aunt Candacebecomes absorbed in her eating.Marygoes to the chest, opens it, and takes out a faded cloak and puts it on. Then she goes to the bureau, takes out a piece of white ribbon, and ties it on her hair. For a moment she looks at her reflection in the mirror. She goes to the chest and stands looking down in it. She makes a movement to close it. The lid falls with a bang.Aunt Candaceturns quickly around.

AUNTCANDACE. What you want, gal? You ain't botherin' de li'l box, is you?

MARY. [Coming back to the fire.] Botherin' that box! Lord, no, I don't worry about it no more ... I'm just dressin' up a little.

AUNTCANDACE. Ah-hah, but you better not be messin' 'round de chist too much. You quit puttin' you' clothes in dere. I done tol' you. What you dressin' up foh? Is Jim comin' round to-night?

[She wraps up the remainder of her supper and puts it in the chimney corner.

MARY. [Not noticing the question.] Aunty, don't I look a little bit like a white person?

AUNTCANDACE. [Taking out her snuff-box.] Huh, what's dat?

MARY. I don't look like a common nigger, do I?

AUNTCANDACE. Lawd bless you, chile, you's purty, you is. You's jes' as purty as any white folks. You's lak yo' mammy what's dead an' gone. Yessuh, you's her very spit an' image, 'ceptin' you's whiter. [Lowering her voice.] Yes, suh, 'ceptin' you's whiter. [They both look in the fire.] 'Bout time foh Jim to be comin', ain't it?

MARY. Yes'm, he'll be comin', I reckon. They ain't no gittin' away from him an' his guitar.

AUNTCANDACE.Whatyou got agin Jim? Dey ain't no better nigger'n Jim. He's gwine treat you white, an' it's time you's gittin' married. I's done nussin' my fust chile at yo' age, my li'l Tom 'twas. Useter sing to 'im. [Pausing.] Useter sing to 'im de sweetest kin' o' chunes, jes' lak you, honey, jes' lak you. He's done daid an' gone do'. All my babies is. De Marster he call an' tuck 'em. An' 'druther'n let 'em labor an' sweat below, he gi'n 'em a harp an' crown up dere. Tuck my ol' man from 'is toil an' trouble, too, an' I's left heah alone now. Ain't gwine be long do', ain't gwine be long. [Her voice trails off into silence. All is quiet save for the ticking of the clock.Aunt Candacebrushes her hand across her face, as if breaking the spell of her revery.] Yessuh, I wants you to git married, honey. I told you, an' told you. We's lived long enough by ourselves. I's lak to nuss yo' li'l uns an' sing to 'em fo' I go. Mind me o' de ol' times.

MARY. [Lost in abstraction, apparently has not been listening.] Aunty, you ought to see him now. He's better to me than he ever was. He's as kind as he can be. An' he wears the finest clothes! [She stares in the fire.

AUNTCANDACE. Dat he do. Dey ain't no 'sputin' of it. Iallus said he's de best-lookin' nigger in de country. An' dey ain't nobody kinder'n Jim. No, suh.

MARY. An' to-day he said 'twas a pity I had to work an' wash like a slave for a livin'. He don' treat me like I was a nigger. He acts like I'm white folks. Aunty, you reckon ...

AUNTCANDACE. [Gazing at her with a troubled look of astonishment.] I knows it, honey, I knows it. Course dey ain't no better nigger'n Jim an' I wants you to marry Jim. He's awaitin' an' ...

MARY. [Vehemently.] I ain't talkin' 'bout Jim. What's Jim? He ain't nothin'.

AUNTCANDACE. [Guessing at the truth, half rises from her seat.] What you mean? Huh! What you talkin' 'bout?

MARY. [Wearily sitting down.] Nothin', aunty, jes' talkin'.

AUNTCANDACE. Jes' talkin'? Chile ... chile ...

MARY. Aunty, did you ever wish you was white?

AUNTCANDACE. [Troubled.] Laws a mercy! Huh! White! Wish I's white? Lawdy, no! What I want to be white foh? I's born a nigger, an' I's gwine die a nigger. I ain't one to tear up de work o' de Lawd. He made me an' I ain't gwine try to change it. What's in yo' haid, chile? [Sadly.] Po' thing, don't do dat. Yo' po' mammy useter talk lak dat ... one reason she ain't livin' to-day. An' I ain't done prayin' foh 'er nuther. Chile, you git such notions ra't out'n yo' haid. [She shakes her head, groaning.] Oh, Lawdy! Lawdy! [Then, screaming, she puts her hands to her head. She grasps her stick and begins striking about her, shrieking.] Dey's after me! Dey's after me! [She continues beating around her.] Open de do'! Open de do'!

[Maryputs her arms around her and tries to soothe her, but she breaks away from her, fighting with her stick. ThenMaryruns and opens the door, andAunt Candacedrives the imaginary devils out.

MARY. They're gone now, they're gone.

[She closes the door and leads her back to her seat.Aunt Candacesits down, mumbling and groaning. The spell passes and the wild look dies from her face.

AUNTCANDACE. [Looking up.] I's had another spell, ain't I, honey?

MARY. Yes'm, but you're all right now.

[She pours out some medicine and gives it to her.

AUNTCANDACE. Some dese days I's gwine be carried off by 'em, chile; I's ol' an' po'ly, ol' an' po'ly now. Dem debbils gwine git me yit.

[She mumbles.

MARY. No, they ain't, aunty. I ain't goin' to let 'em.

[There is a knock at the door, and stamping of feet.

AUNTCANDACE. What's dat?

MARY. Nothin'. Somebody at the door. [The low strumming of guitar is heard.] That's Jim. Come in!

[Jim Matthewsenters. He is a young negro about twenty-two years old, and as black as his African ancestors. He carries a guitar slung over his shoulders, wears an old derby hat, tan shirt with a dark tie, well-worn blue suit, the coat of which comes to his knees, and tan shoes, slashed along the sides to make room for his feet. As he comes in he pulls off his hat and smiles genially, showing his white teeth. With better clothes he might call himself a spo't.

JIM. Good even', ladies.

[He lays his derby an the bed.

AUNTCANDACE. [Turning around in her chair.] What does he say?

MARY. He says good evenin'.

AUNTCANDACE.Ah-hah! Good even', Jim. Take a seat. I's sho glad you come. Mary's been talkin' 'bout you. [He smiles complacently.] We's sho glad you come.

[He takes a seat betweenAunt CandaceandMary.

JIM. Yes'm. An' I's sho glad to be wid you all. I's allus glad to be wid de ladies.

AUNTCANDACE. What's he say?

JIM. [Louder.] I's glad to be wid you all.

AUNTCANDACE. Ah-hah! [Jimpulls out a large checkered handkerchief from his breast-pocket, wipes his forehead, and then flips the dust from his shoes. He folds it carefully and puts it back in his pocket.] Any news, Jim?

JIM. No'm, none 'tall. Any wid you?

AUNTCANDACE. Hah? No, nothin' 'tall, 'ceptin' Mr. Henry done said ... said ...

[Here she groans sharply and puts her hand to her head.

JIM. What's that she's sayin'? [AsAunt Candacecontinues groaning.] Still havin' them spells, is she, Miss Mary?

MARY. Yes, she has 'em about every night.

[Making a movement as if to go toAunt Candace.She stops and stares in the fire.

AUNTCANDACE. Ne' min' me. I's all right now. An' you chillun go on wid yo' cou'tin'. I's gwine peel my 'taters.

[Raking the potatoes from the ashes, she begins peeling them. Then she takes a piece of sausage from the package in the corner.Jimsmiles sheepishly and strums his guitar once or twice. He moves his chair nearer toMary.She moves mechanically from him, still gazing in the fire.

JIM. Er ... Miss Mary, you's lookin' 'ceedin' snatchin' wid dat white ribbon an' new cloak. I's glad to see you thought I's comin' 'round. Yes'm, I tells all de gals you got 'em beat a mile. [He stops.Marypays no attention to him.] From here slam to France an' back, I ain't seed no gals lak you. Yes'm, dat's what I tells 'em all, an' I oughta know, kaze I's an ol' road nigger. I's seen de world, I has. But I's tired of 'tall, an' I wants to settle down ... an' ... you knows me.... [He stops and fidgets in his chair, strums his guitar, feels of his necktie, takes out his handkerchief and wipes his forehead.] Miss Mary, I's ...

MARY. Jim, I done tol' you, you needn't come messin' 'round here. I ain't lovin' you. I ain't goin' to marry—nobody, never!

JIM. [Taken aback.] Now, Miss Mary ... er ... honey. I knows jas' how you feels. It's kaze I been a rounder, but you'll hadder forgive me. An' I's gwine 'form, I is. I's quit all dem tother gals, near 'bout broke dey hearts, but I hadder do it. Dey's only one foh me, you know. To-day I's talkin' to dat young feller, Hugh Mawgin, an' ...

MARY. Hugh what! What you sayin', Jim Matthews! Mr. Hugh, you mean.

JIM. [Hurriedly.] Yes'm, I said "Mr. Hugh." Didn't you hear me, Miss Mary?

MARY. What'd you say to him?

JIM. I told 'im I's callin' 'round here 'casionally, an' he said ... he ...

MARY. [Looking straight atJim.] He said what?

JIM. He axed me if I's a-courtin', an' I told 'im I mought ... er ... be ...

MARY. Go on; tell me. Did he say I ought to marry you?

JIM. [Eagerly.] Yes'm.... [Marygasps.] No'm, not ezzactly.... He said as how it was a pity you had nobody to take care o' you, an' had to work so hard lak a slave every day. An' he said you's most too purty an' good to do it. An' I tuck from 'is talk dat he meant he thought you's good enough foh me, an' wanted me to take care o' you, so's you wouldn't hadder work.

MARY.Oh!...Yes, I reckon so.

[She is silent.

JIM. He's a eddicated boy, an' he knows. Dey teaches 'im how to know everything out yander at dat college place. He sees my worf', he does. Co'se I ain't braggin', but de gals all do say ... oh, you know what dey says.

MARY. [Jumping up from her chair.] Jim Matthews, you think I'd marry a ... oh, I'd ...

AUNTCANDACE. [Turning around.] What's you sayin', gal?

MARY. [Sittin' down.] Oh, aunty! I ... I ... was just askin' Jim to play a piece. [ToJimin a lower voice.] For the Lord's sake play somethin'....

[She hides her face in her apron.

AUNTCANDACE. Ah-hah.... Play us a piece on yo' box, Jim.

[Jim,at a loss as to the meaning ofMary'stears, but feeling that they are somehow a further proof of his power with the ladies, smiles knowingly, tunes his guitar, and begins strumming a chord. After playing a few bars, he starts singing in a clear voice, with "Ohs" and "Ahs" thrown in.

Jim.Oh, whah you gwine, my lover?Gwine on down de road.Oh, whah you gwine, my lover?Gwine on down de road.(Bass) Gwine ... on ... gwine on down de road.She th'owed her arms aroun' meAn' cast me silver an' gold.Said, "Whah you gwine, my lover?"Gwine on down de road.(Bass) Oh, Lawd! ... Oh, Lawd!Gwine ... on ... down ... de ... road.

[Marystill leans forward, with her face in her hands.Jimstops playing and speaks softly.

JIM. Miss Mary, I's sho' sorry I made you cry. Honey, I don't want you to cry 'bout me lak dat ...

[She remains silent. He smiles in self-gratulation, but utters a mournful sigh for her benefit. Pulling his guitar further up on his lap, he takes out his pocket-knife, fits it between his fingers in imitation of the Hawaiians, clears his throat and strikes another chord.

AUNTCANDACE. [Noticing the silence, looks atMary.]What's de trouble wid you, gal? What's de trouble, chile? Oh, Lawdy me! [Passing her hand across her forehead.

MARY. [Raising her head.] Nothin', nothin'. I'm tickled at Jim. [ToJim.] Go on, play her piece about the hearse. Play it!

Jim.[Strums his guitar, tunes it, and begins.]Hearse done carried somebody to de graveyard.Lawd, I know my time ain't long.Hearse done carried somebody to de graveyard.Lawd, I know my time ain't long.[He sings louder, syncopating with his feet.]Preacher keeps a-preachin' an' people keep a-dyin'.Lawd, I know my time ain't long.

[Aunt Candacebegins swaying rhythmically with the music, clapping her hands, and now and then exclaiming.

AUNTCANDACE. Jesus! Lawdy, my Lawd!

[She andJimbegin to sing alternately, she the first verse andJimthe refrain. While this is going onMary,unobserved, goes to the window, pulls open the curtain and looks out, stretching her clenched hands above her head. She turns to the mirror, smooths back her heavy hair, shakes her head, snatches off the ribbon and throws it on the floor. Then she pulls off her cloak and lays it on the bed. She picks up the ribbon and puts it in the bureau. Meanwhile the music has continued.

Hammer keep ringin' on somebody's coffin.

JIM.Lawd, I know my time ain't long.

[They repeat these lines.

AUNTCANDACE.Gwineroll 'em up lak leaves in de judgment.

JIM. Lawd, I know my time ain't long.

[After these lines have been repeated,Jim,noticingMary'sabsence from his side, stops and looks around.Aunt Candacekeeps on singing a verse or two. She stops andlooks around, seasMarystanding in an attitude of despair.Jimspeaks.

JIM. Miss Mary!

AUNTCANDACE. What is it, honey?

[There is a stamping of feet outside.Maryraises her head with an expectant look an her face. She runs to the door and opens it. Her expression changes to one of disappointment and fear asHenry Morganenters. He is a man of powerful build, about fifty years old, rough and overbearing. A week's growth of grizzled beard darkens his face. He wears a felt hat, long black overcoat, ripped at the pockets and buttoned up to his chin, big laced boots, and yarn mittens. In his hand he carries a package, which he throws contemptuously on the bed. He keeps his hat on.Marycloses the door and stands with her back to it, clasping the latch-string.Aunt CandaceandJimoffer their seats.Jim'slook is one of servile respect, that of Aunt Candace one of troubled expectancy.

MORGAN. [In a booming voice.] Dad burn you, Jim. Still a-courtin', eh? Set down, Candace. I ain't goin't to stay long.

AUNTCANDACE. [Querulously.] What's he say?

MARY. [Coming to the centre of the room.] He says for you to set down. He ain't goin' to stay long.

AUNTCANDACE. [Sitting down.] Ah-hah ... Oh, Lawdy! Lawdy!

MORGAN. [Coming closer toAunt Candace.] How you gettin' 'long now, Candace?

AUNTCANDACE. Po'ly, po'ly, Mr. Mawgin. Ain't got much longer down here, ain't much longer.

MORGAN. [Laughing.] Aw come on, Candace, cut out your foolin'. You ain't half as bad off as you make out. [Jimmoves his chair to the corner and sits down.] I understand you. If you'd git up from there an' go to work you'd be well in a week.

AUNTCANDACE. Oh, Lawd, Mr. Mawgin, I sho' is po'ly! I hopes you'll never have to suffer lak me.

[Mumbling, she shakes her head, rocks to and fro without taking her feet from the floor, punctuating her movements by tapping with her stick.MorganseesMarylooking at the package.

MORGAN. That's for Mary. I was comin' down this way an' caught up with John. He said he was comin' here to bring it. An' so I took an' brought it, though he acted sort of queer about it, like he didn't want me even to save him a long walk. Wonder what that nigger can be givin' you. [Marystarts toward the bed.] No, you ain't goin' to see it now, gal. We got a little business to 'tend to first. Did you tell Candace what I said?

MARY. Mr. Morgan, how could I?... I couldn't do it, not to-night.

MORGAN. Uh-huh ... I knowed it. Knowed I'd better come down here an' make sure of it. Durn me, you been cryin', ain't you? [His voice softens.] What's the trouble, gal?

MARY. Nothin', nothin'. I ... I been tickled at Jim.

JIM. Tickled at Jim?

AUNTCANDACE. What does he say?

MORGAN. [Turning to her.] Keep quiet, can't you, Candace; I got a little business with Mary. [Aunt Candacebecomes silent and begins watching the package. She half starts from her chair, then settles back, staring hard at the bundle.Morganspeaks toMary.] You ain't been cryin' about what I told you this evenin', have you?

MARY. No, sir. I was tickled at Jim. It wan't nothin', honest it wan't.

MORGAN. Well, go on lyin' if you want to.

MARY. Mr. Morgan, I was jes' ...

MORGAN. No matter. [Brusquely.] Well, what you goin' to do about what I said? [He looks at her squarely.Jimwatches them both with open mouth.Aunt Candacekeeps staring at the bundle on the bed, and now and then glancing around to see if anyone is watching her. She is oblivious of the conversation.Marystands with bowed head.] Well, what about it? I've done told you you got to get out at the first o' the year if you ain't a mind to marry Jim. [Jimstraightens up.] At least you've got to marry somebody that can come here and work. I told you to tell Candace to look out for it. Why didn't you tell her like I said?

MARY. I couldn't do it. It'd kill her to leave here. You know it. She's been good to me all my life. Oh, I can't do it.

[Aunt Candacestealthily slips across the room and picks up the package from the bed, unseen by any one butJim.

MORGAN. Can't do it? Well, what you want me to do? Lose money on you till the end of time! You ain't earned enough to keep you in clothes for the last three years since Candace got down, an' ...

[A terrible cry rings out.Aunt Candacestands by the bed, holding a white dress up before her.Morganlooks perplexed. Suddenly he starts back in astonishment.

MARY. [Starting forward.] It's for me! [Joyously.] It's mine!

MORGAN. [CatchingMaryby the arm.] What—what is it?... Heigh! Don't you move, gal! Wait a minute!

[He pulls her back.Aunt Candacelooks atMorgan.Gradually he lowers his head.

AUNTCANDACE. I's a-feared on it. I knowed it ... I knowed it. [She throws the dress back on the bed and hobbles to the fire, groaning.] Oh, Lawdy! Oh, Lawdy! My po' li'l gal! My po' li'l gal!

[She rocks to and fro.Morgan'shand falls fromMary'sshoulder, and she runs to the bed.

MARY. He sent it to me! He sent it to me! I knowed he wouldn't forget.

[She hugs the dress to her.

MORGAN. [Turning to her.] Well, and what nigger's sendingyou presents now? [With suspicion fully aroused.] Who give you that, Mary!

MARY. He did!

MORGAN. [Sternly.] Who?

MARY. [Impetuously.] It was him! An' I don't care if you do know it!

MORGAN. Who? You don't mean ...

MARY. I do too—an' ...

MORGAN. God a'mighty, my ... it can't be so.

[Marygoes to the window and holds the dress in front of her.

MARY. It is, too. Mr. Hugh sent it to me. [Morgangroans.] He told me to-day he's sorry for me. I knowed he'd remember me; I knowed it. An', after all, I ain't been workin' the whole year for nothin'. He's got a heart if nobody else ain't.

MORGAN. What in the devil! I wonder ... Lord!

[Aunt Candacestill looks in the fire. For a momentMorganstands lost in abstraction, then he speaks fiercely.

MORGAN. Mary, put them damned things up. Put 'em up, I say. [He goes toward her. She shrinks back; holding the dress to her. He snatches it from her and throws it on the bed, then he pushes her out in the middle of the floor. She wipes the tears from her eyes with her apron.] You listen here, gal. We're goin' to settle it right here and now, once and for all. You're goin' to marry Jim?

MARY. Mr. Morgan ... oh ... I can't marry him. I can't! I won't! Let me stay. Don't drive her out; she'll die. I'll work, I'll hoe an' wash, day an' night. I'll do anything, I'll ...

MORGAN. [Fiercely.] You've tole me that a thousand times, an' you've got to say one or the other right now. Right now! Do you hear! Marry Jim, I tell you, and it'll be all right. He's smart and he'll take care of you ...

MARY. I can't do it, I tell you. I can't! I'd rather die. Look at me. Ain't I almost white? Look at him. He's blackand I hate him. I can't marry no nigger. Oh, don't make me do it.

MORGAN. White! What's that got to do with your marryin'? Ain't you a ...? You don't think you can marry a white man, do you? I tell you you've got to decide to-night. I've been after you now for two years and, gal, you've got to do it!

MARY. Don't make me do it! I hate him. I ain't black. Oh, Lord!...

MORGAN. [Desperately.] Candace!

MARY. [Clutching at his arm.] Don't tell her. I ain't goin' to see her drove out in the cold from her home. Don't tell her.

[Aunt Candacestill looks in the fire.Jimsits lost in amazement, idly strumming his guitar.

MORGAN. Well?

MARY. [Looking wildly around, as if seeking help.] Oh!...

MORGAN. [Wiping his face.] Gal, I don't want to be too hard on you. But use common sense. I've been good to you. They ain't another man in the county that would have kept you for the last three years, an' losin' money on you every year. I'm done of it, gal, I'm done. Marry Jim.

MARY. He wouldn't let you do it if he was here. He wouldn't.

MORGAN. Who? Who you talkin' about?

MARY. Mr. Hugh, your boy. He's got feelin's, he has. If he was here ...

MORGAN. [Hoarsely.] I know it. I know it. Don't you see? He's all I got. I can't run the risk of his ... Oh, Mary, I can't tell you. For God's sake, marry Jim. Can't you see? You've got to marry him! Hugh's gone off for a week, an' I'm goin' to settle it before he ever gets back. And when he gets back, you and Candace will be clean out of this country, if you don't marry Jim. They ain't nobody else 'round here will take you in, and keep you like I have.

MARY. Where ... where's he gone?

MORGAN. He's gone to see his gal. The one he's going to marry. And by God, you've got to marry Jim.

MARY. [Half sobbing.] They ain't no use tryin' to change it. I've tried and tried, but they ain't no use. I jus' as well do it. Yes, yes, I'll marry him. I'll marry him. They ain't no way to be white. I got to be a nigger. I'll marry him, yes. I'll marry him, an' work an' hoe an' wash an' raise more children to go through it all like me, maybe other children that'll want to be white an' can't. They ain't nobody can help me. But look at him. [Pointing toJim.] He's a nigger an' ... yes ... I'm a nigger too.

[She throws her arms out, letting them fall at her side.

MORGAN. [Almost gently.] All right, Mary ... I'll send for the preacher and the license in the morning and have him marry you and Jim right here. You needn't think about leavin' any more. And you and Jim can live here as long as you please. Is that all right, Jim?

JIM. [Uncertainly.] Yes-suh, yes-suh, Mr. Mawgin! An' I thanks you 'specially.

MORGAN. [Going up toAunt Candace.] Mary and Jim are going to be married to-morrow, Candace. It'll be a lucky day for you. [She makes no answer, but continues her trancelike stare in the fire.Morgancomes toMaryand offers his hand. She fails to see it.] Child, what I've had to do to-night has hurt me a whole lot worse'n you.... Good-night, Mary.

[He stands a moment looking at the floor, then goes out quietly.

JIM. [Coming up toMary.] Miss Mary, don't look lak dat. I's gwine do better, I's.... [Marykeeps her head muffled in her apron.] Honey, I's sho' gwine make you a good man.

[Marypays no attention to him. In his embarrassment he strums his guitar, clears his throat, props his foot up on a chair rung, and begins singing in a low voice.]

Jim.Lyin' in the jail house,A-peepin' th'ough de bars....

AUNTCANDACE. [Waking from her reverie.] Bring me de li'l black box, gal. Bring me de box! [Marydrops her apron and stares dully at the floor.] Bring me de box! [Half-screaming.] Bring me de box, I say! [Trembling and groaning, she stands up.Marygoes to the chest and brings her the black box.Aunt Candacedrops her stick and clutches it.] I's gwine tell you de secret o' dis li'l box. Yo' mammy told me to tell you if de time ever come, an' it's come. She seed trouble an' our mammy befo' us. [She takes a key, tied by a string around her neck, and unlocks the box, pulling out a wrinkled white dress, yellowed with age, of the style of the last generation.Jimsits down, overcome with astonishment, staring at the old woman with open mouth.] Look heah, chile. I's gwine tell you now. Nineteen yeahs ago come dis Christmas dey's a white man gi'n your mammy dis heah, an' dat white man is kin to you, an' he don't live fur off nuther. Gimme dat dress dere on de bed. [Marygets it and holds it tightly to her breast.Aunt Candacesnatches at it, butMaryclings to it.] Gimme dat dress!

MARY. It's mine!

AUNTCANDACE. Gimme! [She jerks the dress fromMary.Hobbling to the fireplace, she lays both of them carefully on the flames.Jimmakes a movement as if to save them, but she waves him back with her stick.] Git back, nigger! Git back! Dis night I's gwine wipe out some o' de traces o' sin. [Marysits in her chair, sobbing. As the dresses burnAunt Candacecomes to her and lays her hand upon her head.] I knows yo' feelin's, chile. But yo's got to smother 'em in. Yo's got to smother 'em in.

CURTAIN

ARTHUR HOPKINS

Arthur Hopkins, one of the well-known men of the practical theatre of to-day, was born in Cleveland, Ohio, in 1878. He completed his academic training at Western Reserve University, Cleveland, Ohio. At present he is the manager of Plymouth Theatre, New York City.

Mr. Hopkins's entire life has been given to the theatre, which is his hobby. In the midst of his various activities as a manager he has found time to do some dramatic writing. Among his one-act plays areThunder God,Broadway Love, andMoonshine, which appeared in theTheatre Acts Magazinefor January, 1919.

Moonshineis an excellent play of situation that has grown out of the reaction of character on character.

SCENE:Hut of a moonshiner in the mountain wilds of North Carolina. Door back left. Window back right centre. Old deal table right centre. Kitchen chair at either side of table, not close to it. Old cupboard in left corner. Rude stone fireplace left side. On back wall near door is a rough pencil sketch of a man hanging from a tree.

At rise of curtain a commotion is heard outside of hut.

LUKE. [Off stage.] It's all right, boys.... Jist leave him to me.... Git in there, Mister Revenue.

[Revenue,a Northerner in city attire, without hat, clothes dusty, is pushed through doorway.Luke,a lanky, ill-dressed Southerner, following, closes door.Revenue'shands are tied behind him.

LUKE. You must excuse the boys for makin' a demonstration over you, Mister Revenue, but you see they don't come across you fellers very frequent, and they allus gits excited.

REVENUE. I appreciate that I'm welcome.

LUKE. 'Deed you is, and I'm just agoin' to untie your hands long nuff fer you to take a sociable drink. [Goes to stranger, feels in all-pockets for weapons.] Reckon yer travellin' peaceable. [Unties hands.] Won't yer sit down?

REVENUE. [Drawing over chair and sitting.] Thank you. [Rubs wrists to get back circulation.]

LUKE. [Going over to cupboard and taking out jug.] Yessa, Mister, the boys ain't seen one o' you fellers fer near two years. Began to think you wus goin' to neglect us. I wus hopin' you might be Jim Dunn. Have a drink?

REVENUE. [Starts slightly at mention ofJim Dunn.] No, thank you, your make is too strong for me.

LUKE. It hain't no luck to drink alone when you git company. Better have some.

REVENUE. Very well, my friend, I suffer willingly.

[Drinks a little and chokes.

LUKE. [Draining cup.] I reckon ye all don't like the flavor of liquor that hain't been stamped.

REVENUE. It's not so bad.

LUKE. The last Revenue that sit in that chair got drunk on my make.

REVENUE. That wouldn't be difficult.

LUKE. No, but it wuz awkward.

REVENUE. Why?

LUKE. I had to wait till he sobered up before I give him his ticker. I didn't feel like sendin' him to heaven drunk. He'd a found it awkward climbin' that golden ladder.

REVENUE. Thoughtful executioner.

LUKE. So you see mebbe you kin delay things a little by dallyin' with the licker.

REVENUE. [Picking up cup, getting it as far as his lips, slowly puts it down.] The price is too great.

LUKE. I'm mighty sorry you ain't Jim Dunn. But I reckon you ain't. You don't answer his likeness.

REVENUE. Who's Jim Dunn?

LUKE. You ought to know who Jim Dunn is. He's just about the worst one of your revenue critters that ever hit these parts. He's got four of the boys in jail. We got a little reception all ready for him. See that?

[Pointing to sketch on back wall.

REVENUE. [Looking at sketch.] Yes.

LUKE. That's Jim Dunn.

REVENUE. [Rising, examining picture.] Doesn't look much like any one.

LUKE. Well, that's what Jim Dunn'll look like when we git 'im. I'm mighty sorry you hain't Jim Dunn.

REVENUE. I'm sorry to disappoint you.

LUKE. [Turning to cupboard and filling pipe.] Oh, it's all right. I reckon one Revenue's about as good as another, after all.

REVENUE. Are you sure I'm a revenue officer?

LUKE. [Rising.] Well, since we ketched ye climin' trees an' snoopin' round the stills, I reckon we won't take no chances that you hain't.

REVENUE. Oh.

LUKE. Say, mebbe you'd like a seggar. Here's one I been savin' fer quite a spell back, thinkin' mebbe I'd have company some day. [Brings out dried-up cigar, hands it to him.

REVENUE. No, thank you.

LUKE. It hain't no luck to smoke alone when ye got company. [Striking match and holding it toRevenue.] Ye better smoke. [Revenuebites off end and mouth is filled with dust, spits out dust.Lukeholds match to cigar. With difficultyRevenuelights it.] That's as good a five-cent cigar as ye can git in Henderson.

REVENUE. [After two puffs, makes wry face, throws cigar on table.] You make death very easy, Mister.

LUKE. Luke's my name. Yer kin call me Luke. Make you feel as though you had a friend near you at the end—Luke Hazy.

REVENUE. [Starting as though interested, rising.] Not the Luke Hazy that cleaned out the Crosby family?

LUKE. [Startled.] How'd you hear about it?

REVENUE. Hear about it? Why, your name's been in every newspaper in the United States. Every time you killed another Crosby the whole feud was told all over again. Why, I've seen your picture in the papers twenty times.

LUKE. Hain't never had one took.

REVENUE. That don't stop them from printing it. Don't you ever read the newspapers?

LUKE. Me read? I hain't read nothin' fer thirty years. Reckon I couldn't read two lines in a hour.

REVENUE. You've missed a lot of information about yourself.

LUKE. How many Crosbys did they say I killed?

REVENUE. I think the last report said you had just removed the twelfth.

LUKE. It's a lie! I only killed six ... that's all they wuz—growed up. I'm a-waitin' fer one now that's only thirteen.

REVENUE. When'll he be ripe?

LUKE. Jes as soon as he comes a-lookin' fer me.

REVENUE. Will he come?

LUKE. He'll come if he's a Crosby.

REVENUE. A brave family?

LUKE. They don't make 'em any braver—they'd be first-rate folks if they wuzn't Crosbys.

REVENUE. If you feel that way why did you start fighting them?

LUKE. I never started no fight. My granddad had some misunderstandin' with their granddad. I don't know jes what it wuz about, but I reckon my granddad wuz right, and I'll see it through.

REVENUE. You must think a lot of your grandfather.

LUKE. Never seen 'im, but it ain't no luck goin' agin yer own kin. Won't ye have a drink?

REVENUE. No—no—thank you.

LUKE. Well, Mr. Revenue, I reckon we might as well have this over.

REVENUE. What?

LUKE. Well, you won't get drunk, and I can't be put to the trouble o' havin' somebody guard you.

REVENUE. That'll not be necessary.

LUKE. Oh, I know yer like this yer place now, but this evenin' you might take it into yer head to walk out.

REVENUE. I'll not walk out unless you make me.

LUKE. Tain't like I'll let yer, but I wouldn't blame yer none if yu tried.

REVENUE. But I'll not.

LUKE. [Rising.] Say, Mistah Revenue, I wonder if you know what you're up against?

REVENUE. What do you mean?

LUKE. I mean I gotta kill you.

REVENUE. [Rising, pauses.] Well, that lets me out.

LUKE. What do yu mean?

REVENUE. I mean that I've been trying to commit suicide for the last two months, but I haven't had the nerve.

LUKE. [Startled.] Suicide?

REVENUE. Yes. Now that you're willing to kill me, the problem is solved.

LUKE. Why, what d'ye want to commit suicide fer?

REVENUE. I just want to stop living, that's all.

LUKE. Well, yu must have a reason.

REVENUE. No special reason—I find life dull and I'd like to get out of it.

LUKE. Dull?

REVENUE. Yes—I hate to go to bed—I hate to get up—I don't care for food—I can't drink liquor—I find people either malicious or dull—I see by the fate of my acquaintances, both men and women, that love is a farce. I have seen fame and preference come to those who least deserved them, while the whole world kicked and cuffed the worthy ones. The craftier schemer gets the most money and glory, while the fair-minded dealer is humiliated in the bankruptcy court. In the name of the law every crime is committed; in the name of religion every vice is indulged; in the name of education greatest ignorance is rampant.

LUKE. I don't git all of that, but I reckon you're some put out.

REVENUE. I am. The world's a failure ... what's more, it's a farce. I don't like it but I can't change it, so I'm just aching for a chance to get out of it.... [ApproachingLuke.] And you, my dear friend, are going to present me the opportunity.

LUKE. Yes, I reckon you'll get your wish now.

REVENUE. Good ... if you only knew how I've tried to get killed.

LUKE. Well, why didn't you kill yerself?

REVENUE. I was afraid.

LUKE. Afreed o' what—hurtin' yourself?

REVENUE. No, afraid of the consequences.

LUKE. Whad d'ye mean?

REVENUE. Do you believe in another life after this one?

LUKE. I kan't say ez I ever give it much thought.

REVENUE. Well, don't—because if you do you'll never kill another Crosby ... not even a revenue officer.

LUKE. 'Tain't that bad, is it?

REVENUE. Worse. Twenty times I've had a revolver to my head—crazy to die—and then as my finger pressed the trigger I'd get a terrible dread—a dread that I was plunging into worse terrors than this world ever knew. If killing were the end it would be easy, but what if it's only the beginning of something worse?

LUKE. Well, you gotta take some chances.

REVENUE. I'll not take that one. You know, Mr. Luke, life was given to us by some one who probably never intended that we should take it, and that some one has something ready for people who destroy his property. That's what frightens me.

LUKE. You do too much worryin' to be a regular suicide.

REVENUE. Yes, I do. That's why I changed my plan.

LUKE. What plan?

REVENUE. My plan for dying.

LUKE. Oh, then you didn't give up the idea?

REVENUE. No, indeed—I'm still determined to die, but I'm going to make some one else responsible.

LUKE. Oh—so you hain't willing to pay fer yer own funeral music?

REVENUE. No, sir. I'll furnish the passenger, but some one else must buy the ticket. You see, when I finally decided I'd be killed, I immediately exposed myself to every danger I knew.

LUKE. How?

REVENUE. In a thousand ways.... [Pause.] Did you ever see an automobile?

LUKE. No.

REVENUE. They go faster than steam engines, and they don'tstayon tracks. Did you ever hear of Fifth Avenue, New York?

LUKE. No.

REVENUE. Fifth Avenue is jammed with automobiles, eight deep all day long. People being killed every day. I crossed Fifth Avenue a thousand times a day, every day for weeks, never once trying to get out of the way, and always praying I'd be hit.

LUKE. And couldn't yu git hit?

REVENUE. [In disgust.] No. Automobiles only hit people who try to get out of the way. [Pause.] When that failed, I frequented the lowest dives on the Bowery, flashing a roll of money and wearing diamonds, hoping they'd kill me for them. They stole the money and diamonds, but never touched me.

LUKE. Couldn't you pick a fight?

REVENUE. I'm coming to that. You know up North they believe that a man can be killed in the South for calling another man a liar.

LUKE. That's right.

REVENUE. It is, is it? Well, I've called men liars from Washington to Atlanta, and I'm here to tell you about it.

LUKE. They must a took pity on ye.

REVENUE. Do you know Two Gun Jake that keeps the dive down in Henderson?

LUKE. I should think I do.... Jake's killed enough of 'em.

REVENUE. He's a bad man, ain't he?

LUKE. He's no trifler.

REVENUE. I wound up in Jake's place two nights ago, pretending to be drunk. Jake was cursing niggers.

LUKE. He's allus doin' that.

REVENUE. So I elbowed my way up to the bar and announced that I was an expert in the discovery of nigger blood ... could tell a nigger who was 63-64ths white.

LUKE. Ye kin?

REVENUE. No, I can't, but I made them believe it. I then offered to look them over and tell them if they had any nigger blood in them. A few of them sneaked away, but the rest stood for it. I passed them all until I got to Two Gun Jake. I examined his eyeballs, looked at his finger-nails, and said, "You're a nigger."

LUKE. An' what did Jake do?

REVENUE. He turned pale, took me into the back room. He said: "Honest to God, mister, can ye see nigger blood in me?" I said: "Yes." "There's no mistake about it?" "Not a bit," I answered. "Good God," he said, "I always suspected it." Then he pulled out his gun—

LUKE. Eh ... eh?

REVENUE. And shothimself.

LUKE. Jake shot hisself!... Is he dead?

REVENUE. I don't know—I was too disgusted to wait. I wandered around until I thought of you moonshiners ... scrambled around in the mountains until I found your still. Isaton it and waited until you boys showed up, and here I am, and you're going to kill me.

LUKE. [Pause.] Ah, so ye want us to do yer killin' fer ye, do ye?

REVENUE. You're my last hope. If I fail this time I may as well give it up.

LUKE. [Takes out revolver, turns sidewise and secretly removes cartridges from chamber. Rises.] What wuz that noise?

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