ACT I

The interior of a blacksmith shop. Right centre, aforge. Left, a loft, from which are hanging driedcornstalks, hay, and the yellow ears of cattle-corn.Back centre, a wide double door, closed when thecurtain rises. Through this door—when later it isopened—is visible a New England landscape in the latespringtime: a distant wood; stone walls, high elms, awell-sweep; and, in the near foreground, a ploughedfield, from which the green shoots of early corn arejust appearing. The blackened walls of the shop arecovered with a miscellaneous collection of old iron,horseshoes, cart wheels, etc., the usual appurtenancesof a smithy. In the right-hand corner, however, is anarray of things quite out of keeping with the shopproper: musical instruments, puppets, tall clocks, andfantastical junk. Conspicuous amongst these articlesis a large standing mirror, framed grotesquely in oldgold and curtained by a dull stuff, embroidered withpeaked caps and crescent moons.Just before the scene opens, a hammer is heardringing briskly upon steel. As the curtain risesthere is discovered, standing at the anvil in theflickering light of a bright flame from the forge, awoman—powerful, ruddy, proud with a certain masterfulbeauty, white-haired (as though prematurely),bare-armed to the elbows, clad in a dark skirt (aboveher ankles), a loose blouse, open at the throat; aleathern apron and a workman’s cap. The woman isGoody Rickby.On the anvil she is shapinga piece of iron. Beside her stands a framework of ironformed like the ribs and backbone of a man. For a fewmoments she continues to ply her hammer, amid a showerof sparks, till suddenly the flame on the forge dies down.GOODY RICKBYDickon! More flame.A VOICE[Above her.]Yea, Goody.[The flame in the forge spurts up high and suddenly.]GOODY RICKBYNay, not so fierce.THE VOICE[At her side.]Votre pardon, madame.[The flame subsides.]Is that better?GOODY RICKBYThat will do.[With her tongs, she thrusts the iron into the flame;it turns white-hot.]Quick work; nothing like brimstone for the smithy trade.[At the anvil, she begins to weld the iron ribon to the framework.]There, my beauty! We’ll make a stout set of ribs for you.I’ll see to it this year that I have a scarecrow can outstandall the nor’easters that blow. I’ve no notion to lose mycorn-crop this summer.[Outside, the faint cawings of crows are heard. Puttingdown her tongs and hammer, Goody Rickby strides to thedouble door, and flinging it wide open, lets in thegray light of dawn. She looks out over the fields andshakes her fist.]So ye’re up before me and the sun, are ye?[Squinting against the light.]There’s one! Nay, two. Aha!One for sorrow,Two for mirth—Good! This time we’ll have the laugh on our side.[She returns to the forge, where again the fire has died out.]Dickon! Fire! Come, come, where be thy wits?THE VOICE[Sleepily from the forge.]’Tis early, dame.GOODY RICKBYThe more need—[Takes up her tongs.]THE VOICE[Screams.]Ow!GOODY RICKBYHa! Have I got thee?[From the blackness of the forge she pulls out with hertongs, by the right ear, the figure of a devil, hornedand tailed. In general aspect, though he resemblesa mediæval familiar demon, yet the suggestions of agoatish beard, a shrewdly humorous smile, and(whenhe speaks)the slightest of nasal drawls, remotelysimulate a species of Yankee rustic.Goody Rickby substitutes her fingers for the tongs.]Now, Dickon!DICKONDeus!I haven’t been nabbed like that since St.Dunstan tweaked my nose. Well, sweet Goody?GOODY RICKBYThe bellows!DICKON[Going slowly to the forge.]Why, ’tis hardly dawn yet. Honest folks are still abed.It makes a long day.GOODY RICKBY[Working, while Dickon plies the bellows.]Aye, for your black pets, the crows, to work in.That’s why I’m at it early. You heard ’em. We musthave this scarecrow of ours out in the field at hispost before sunrise.[Finishing.]So, there! Now, Dickon boy, I want that you should—DICKON[Whipping out a note-book and writing.]Wait! Another one! “I want that you should—”GOODY RICKBYWhat’s that you’re writing?DICKONThe phrase, Goody dear; the construction. Your New Englanddialect is hard for a poor cosmopolitan devil. What withutclauses in English and Latinized subjunctives—You want that Ishould—Well?GOODY RICKBYMake a masterpiece. I’ve made the frame strong, so as tostand the weather;youmust make the body lifelike soas to fool the crows. Last year I stuck up a poor sham andafter a day they saw through it. This time, we must make ’emthink it’s a real human crittur.DICKONTo fool the philosophers is my specialty, but the crows—hm!GOODY RICKBYPooh! That staggers thee!DICKONMadame Rickby, prod not the quick of my genius.I am Phidias, I am Raphael, I am the Lord God!—You shall see—[Demands with a gesture.]Yonder broomstick.GOODY RICKBY[Fetching him a broom from the corner.]Good boy!DICKON[Straddling the handle.]Haha! gee up! my Salem mare.[Then, pseudo-philosophically.]A broomstick—that’s for imagination![He begins to construct the scarecrow, while Goody Rickby,assisting, brings the constructive parts from variousnooks and corners.]We are all pretty artists, to be sure, Bessie. Phidias, hesculptures the gods; Raphael, he paints the angels; the LordGod, he creates Adam; and Dickon—fetch me the poker—aha!Dickon! What doth Dickon? He nullifies ’em all; he endows theScarecrow!—A poker: here’s his conscience. There’s two finelegs to walk on,—imagination and conscience. Yonder flailsnow! The ideal—thebeau idéal, dame—that’s what we artistsseek. The apotheosis of scarecrows! And pray, what’s ascarecrow? Why, the antithesis of Adam.—“Let there becandles!” quoth the Lord God, sitting in the dark. “Let therebe candle-extinguishers,” saith Dickon. “I am made in theimage of my maker,” quoth Adam. “Look at yourself in theglass,” saith Goodman Scarecrow.[Taking two implements from Goody Rickby.]Fine! fine! here are flails—one for wit, t’other forsatire.Sapristi!I with two such arms, my lad, how thouwilt work thy way in the world!GOODY RICKBYYou talk as if you were making a real mortal, Dickon.DICKONTo fool a crow, Goody, I must fashion a critturthat will first deceive a man.GOODY RICKBYHe’ll scarce do that without a head.[Pointing to the loft.]What think ye of yonder Jack-o’-lantern? ’Twas made last Hallowe’en.DICKONRare, my Psyche! We shall collaborate. Here![Running up the ladder, he tosses down a yellowhollowed pumpkin to Goody Rickby, who catches it.Then rummaging forth an armful of cornstalks, ears,tassels, dried squashes, gourds, beets, etc., hedescends and throws them in a heap on the floor.]Whist! the anatomy.GOODY RICKBY[Placing the pumpkin on the shoulders.]Look!DICKONO Johannes Baptista!What wouldst thou have given forsuch a head! I helped Salome to cut his off, dame, and itlooked not half so appetizing on her charger. Tut! Copernicuswore once such a pumpkin, but it is rotten. Look at his goldensmile! Hail, Phœbus Apollo!GOODY RICKBY’Tis the finest scarecrow in town.DICKONNay, poor soul, ’tis but a skeleton yet.He must have a man’s heart in him.[Picking a big red beet from among the cornstalks,he places it under the left side of the ribs.]Hush! Dost thou hear itbeat?GOODY RICKBYThou merry rogue!DICKONNow for the lungs of him.[Snatching a small pair of bellows from a peg on the wall.]That’s for eloquence! He’ll preach the black knaves a sermonon theft. And now—[Here, with Goody Rickby’s help, he stuffs the frameworkwith the gourds, corn, etc., from the loft, weaving thehusks about the legs and arms.]here goes for digestion and inherited instincts! More corn,Goody. Now he’ll fight for his own flesh and blood!GOODY RICKBY[Laughing.]Dickon, I am proud of thee.DICKONWait till you see his peruke.[Seizing a feather duster made of crow’s feathers.]Voici!Scalps of the enemy![Pulling them apart, he arranges the feathers on thepumpkin, like a gentleman’s wig.]A rare conqueror!GOODY RICKBYOh, you beauty!DICKONAnd now a bit of comfort for dark days and stormy nights.[Taking a piece of corn-cob with the kernels onit, Dickon makes a pipe, which he puts into thescarecrow’s mouth.]So! There, Goody! I tell thee, with yonder brand-new coatand breeches of mine—those there in my cupboard!—we’ll makehim a lad to be proud of.[Taking the clothes, which Goody Rickby brings—a pairof fine scarlet breeches and a gold-embroidered coatwith ruffles of lace—he puts them upon the scarecrow.Then, eying it like a connoisseur, makes a fewfinishing touches.]Why, dame, he’ll be a son to thee.GOODY RICKBYA son? Ay, if I had but a son!DICKONWhy, here you have him.[To the scarecrow.]Thou wilt scare the crows off thy mother’s corn-field—won’t my pretty? And send ’em all over t’other side thewall—to her dear neighbour’s, the Justice Gilead Merton’s.GOODY RICKBYJustice Merton! Nay, if they’d only peck his eyes out,instead of his corn.DICKON[Grinning.]Yet the Justice was a dear friend of “Blacksmith Bess.”GOODY RICKBYAy, “Blacksmith Bess!” If I hadn’t had a good stout arm whenhe cast me off with the babe, I might have starved for all hisworship cared.DICKONTrue, Bessie; ’twas a scurvy trick he played on thee—and onme, that took such pains to bring you together—to steal ayoung maid’s heart—GOODY RICKBYAnd then toss it away like a bad penny to the gutter!And the child—to die![Lifting her hammer in rage.]Ha! if I could get the worshipful Justice Gilead into mypower again—[Drops the hammer sullenly on the anvil.]But no! I shall beat my life away on this anvil, whilst myjustice clinks his gold, and drinks his port to a fat old age.Justice! Ha—justice of God!DICKONWhist, dame! Talk of angels and hear the rustle of theirrelatives.GOODY RICKBY[Turning, watches outside a girl’s figure approaching.]His niece—Rachel Merton! What can she want so early? Nay, Imind me; ’tis the mirror. She’s a maid after our own hearts,boy,—no Sabbath-go-to-meeting airs abouther! She hath read thebooks of themagifrom cover to cover, and paid me good guineasfor ’em, though her uncle knows naught on’t. Besides, she’s in love,Dickon.DICKON[Indicating the scarecrow.]Ah? Withhim? Is it a rendezvous?GOODY RICKBY[With a laugh.]Pff! Begone!DICKON[Shakes his finger at the scarecrow.]Thou naughty rogue![Then, still smiling slyly, with his head placedconfidentially next to the scarecrow’s ear, as ifwhispering, and with his hand pointing to the maidenoutside, Dickon fades away into air.Rachelenters, nervous and hesitant. Goody Rickby makes hera courtesy, which she acknowledges by a nod, halfabsent-minded.]GOODY RICKBYMistress Rachel Merton—so early! I hope your uncle, ourworshipful Justice, is not ill?RACHELNo, my uncle is quite well. The early morning suits mebest for a walk. You are—quite alone?GOODY RICKBYQuite alone, mistress. [Bitterly.] Oh, folks don’tcall on Goody Rickby—except on business.RACHEL[Absently, looking round in the dim shop.]Yes—you must be busy. Is it—is it here?GOODY RICKBYYou mean the—RACHEL[Starting back, with a cry.]Ah! who’s that?GOODY RICKBY[Chuckling.]Fear not, mistress; ’tis nothing but a scarecrow.I’m going to put him in my corn-field yonder. The crows areso pesky this year.RACHEL[Draws her skirts away with a shiver.]How loathsome!GOODY RICKBY[Vastly pleased.]He’ll do!RACHELAh, here!—This isthemirror?GOODY RICKBYYea, mistress, and a wonderful glass it is, as I told you.I wouldn’t sell it to most comers, but seeing how you andMaster Talbot—RACHELYes; that will do.GOODY RICKBYYou see, if the town folks guessed what it was, well—You’veheard tell of the gibbets on Salem hill? There’s not many inNew England like you, Mistress Rachel. You know enough toapprove some miracles—outside the Scriptures.RACHELYou are quite sure the glass will do all you say?It—never fails?GOODY RICKBYAy, now, mistress, how could it? ’Tis the glass oftruth—[insinuatingly] the glass of true lovers. Itshows folks just as they are; no shams, no varnish. If yoursweetheart be false, the glass will reveal it. If a wolfshould dress himself in a white sheep’s wool, this glass wouldreflect the black beast inside it.RACHELBut what of the sins of the soul, Goody? Vanity, hypocrisy,and—and inconstancy? Will it surely reveal them?GOODY RICKBYI have told you, my young lady. If it doth not as I say,bring it back and get your money again. Trust me, sweeting,’tis your only mouse-trap for a man. Why, an old dame hatheyes in her heart yet. If your lover be false, this glassshall pluck his fine feathers!RACHEL[With aloofness.]’Tis no question of that. I wish the glass to—to amuse me.GOODY RICKBY[Laughing.]Why, then, it shall amuse you. Try it on some of your neighbours.RACHELYou ask a large price for it.GOODY RICKBY[Shrugs.]I run risks. Besides, where will you get another?RACHELThat is true. Here, I will buy it. That is thesum you mentioned, I believe?[She hands a purse to Goody Rickby who opens it andcounts over some coins.]GOODY RICKBYLet see; let see.RACHELWell?GOODY RICKBYGood: ’tis good. Folks call me a witch, mistress.Well—harkee—a witch’s word is as good as a justice’s gold.The glass is yours—with my blessing.RACHELSpare yourself that, dame. But the glass: how am I to get it?How will you send it to me—quietly?GOODY RICKBYTrust me for that. I’ve a willing lad that helps me withsuch errands; a neighbour o’ mine.[Calls.]Ebenezer!RACHEL[Startled.]What! is he here?GOODY RICKBYIn the hay-loft. The boy’s an orphan; he sleeps there o’times. Ebenezer![A raw, dishevelled country boy appears in the loft,slides down the ladder, and shuffles up sleepily.]THE BOYEvenin’.RACHEL[Drawing Goody Rickby aside.]You understand; I desire no comment about this purchase.GOODY RICKBYNor I, mistress, be sure.RACHELIs he—?GOODY RICKBY[Tapping her forehead significantly.]Trust his wits who hath no wit; he’s mum.RACHELOh!THE BOY[Gaping.]Job?GOODY RICKBYYea, rumple-head! His job this morning is to bear yonderglass to the house of Justice Merton—the big one on the hill;to the side door. Mind, no gabbing. Doth he catch?THE BOY[Nodding and grinning.]’E swallows.RACHELBut is the boy strong enough?GOODY RICKBYHim?[Pointing to the anvil.]Ebenezer![The boy spits on his palms, takes hold of the anvil,lifts it, drops it again, sits on it, and grins atthe door, just as Richard Talbot appears there, fromoutside.]RACHELGracious!GOODY RICKBYTrust him. He’ll carry the glass for you.RACHELI will return home at once, then. Let him go quietly to theside door, and wait for me. Good morning.[Turning, she confronts Richard.]RICHARDGood morning.RACHELRichard!—Squire Talbot, you—you are abroad early.RICHARDAs early as Mistress Rachel. Is it pardonable?I caught sight of you walking in this direction, soI thought it wise to follow, lest—[Looks hard at Goody Rickby.]RACHELVery kind. Thanks. I’ve done my errand.Well; we can return together.[To Goody Rickby.]You will make sure that I receive the—the article.GOODY RICKBYTrust me, mistress.[Courtesying.]Squire Talbot! the honour, sir!RICHARD[Bluntly, looking from one to the other.]What article?[Rachel ignores the question and starts to pass out.Richard frowns at Goody Rickby, who stammers.]GOODY RICKBYBegging your pardon, sir?RICHARDWhat article? I said.[After a short, embarrassed pause: more sternly.]Well?GOODY RICKBYOh, the article! Yonder old glass, to be sure, sir.A quaint piece, your honour.RICHARDRachel, you haven’t come here at sunrise to buy—that thing?RACHELVerily, “that thing” and at sunrise. A pretty time for apretty purchase. Are you coming?RICHARD[In a low voice.]More witchcraft nonsense? Do you realize this is serious?RACHELOh, of course. You know I am desperately mystical,so pray let us not discuss it. Good-by.RICHARDRachel, just a moment. If you want a mirror, youshall have the prettiest one in New England. Or I willimport you one from London. Only—I beg of you—don’tbuy stolen goods.GOODY RICKBYStolen goods?RACHEL[Aside to Richard.]Don’t! don’t!RICHARDAt least, articles under suspicion.[To Goody Rickby.]Can you account for this mirror—how you came by it?GOODY RICKBYI’ll show ye! I’ll show ye! Stolen—ha!RICHARDCome, old swindler, keep your mirror, and givethis lady back her money.GOODY RICKBYI’ll damn ye both, I will!—Stolen!RACHEL[Imploringly.]Will you come?RICHARDLook you, old Rickby; this is not the first time. Charm allthe broomsticks in town, if you like; bewitch all the tablesand saucepans and mirrors you please; but gull no more moneyout of young girls. Mind you! We’re not so enterprising inthis town as at Salem; but—it may come to it! So looksharp! I’m not blind to what’s going on here.GOODY RICKBYNot blind, Master Puritan? Oho! You can see through all mycounterfeits, can ye? So! you would scrape all the wonderout’n the world, as I’ve scraped all the meat out’n mypunkin-head yonder! Aha! wait and see! Afore sundown, I’llsend ye a nut to crack, shall make your orthodox jaws ache.Your servant, Master Deuteronomy!RICHARD[To Rachel, who has seized his arm.]We’ll go.[Exeunt Richard and Rachel.]GOODY RICKBY[Calls shrilly after them.]Trot away, pretty team; toss your heads. I’ll unhitch ye andtake off your blinders.THE SLOUCHING BOY[Capering and grimacing in front of themirror, shrieks with laughter.]Ohoho!GOODY RICKBY[Returning, savagely.]Yes, yes, my fine lover! I’ll pay thee for “stolengoods”—I’ll pay thee.[Screams.]Dickon! Stop laughing.THE BOYO Lord! O Lord!GOODY RICKBYWhat tickles thy mirth now?THE BOYFor to think as the soul of an orphan innocent,what lives in a hay-loft, should wear horns.[On looking into the mirror, the spectator perceivestherein that the reflection of the slouching boy isthe horned demon figure of Dickon, who performs thesame antics in pantomime within the glass as the boydoes without.]GOODY RICKBYYea; ’tis a wise devil that knows his own face in the glass.But hark now! Thou must find me a rival for thiscock-squire,—dost hear? A rival, that shall steal away theheart of his Mistress Rachel.DICKONAnd take her to church?GOODY RICKBYTo church or to Hell. All’s one.DICKONA rival![Pointing at the glass.]How wouldheserve—in there? Dear Ebenezer! Fancythe deacons in the vestry, Goody, and her uncle, the Justice,when they saw him escorting the bride to the altar, with histail round her waist!GOODY RICKBYTut, tut! Think it over in earnest, and meantime take herthe glass. Wait, we’d best fold it up small, so as not toattract notice on the road.[Dickon, who has already drawn the curtains over theglass, grasps one side of the large frame, GoodyRickby the other.]Now![Pushing their shoulders against the two sides, the framedisappears and Dickon holds in his hand a mirror abouta foot square, of the same design.]So! Be off! And mind, a rival for Richard!DICKONFor Richard a rival,Dear Goody RickbyWants Dickon’s connival:Lord! What can the trick be?[To the scarecrow.]By-by, Sonny; take care of thy mother.[Dickon slouches out with the glass, whistling.]GOODY RICKBYMother! Yea, if only I had a son—the Justice Merton’s andmine! If the brat had but lived now to remind him of thosemerry days, which he has forgotten. Zooks, wouldn’t I put aspoke in his wheel! But no such luck for me! No such luck![As she goes to the forge, the stout figure of a manappears in the doorway behind her. Under one arm hecarries a large book, in the other hand a gold-headedcane. He hesitates, embarrassed.]THE MANPermit me, Madam.GOODY RICKBY[Turning.]Ah, him!—Justice Merton!JUSTICE MERTON[Removing his hat, steps over the sill, and lays hisgreat book on the table; then with a superciliouslook, he puts his hat firmly on again.]Permit me, dame.GOODY RICKBYYou![With confused, affected hauteur, the Justice shifts fromfoot to foot, flourishing his cane. As he speaks,Goody Rickby, with a shrewd, painful expression, drawsslowly backward toward the door left, which opens intoan inner room. Reaching it, she opens it part way,stands facing him, and listens.]JUSTICE MERTONI have had the honour—permit me—to entertain suspicions;to rise early, to follow my niece, to meet just now SquireTalbot, an excellent young gentleman of wealth, if not offashion; to hear his remarks concerning—hem!—you, dame! tocall here—permit me—to express myself and inquire—GOODY RICKBYConcerning your waistcoat?[Turning quickly, she snatches an article of apparelwhich hangs on the inner side of the door, and holdsit up.]JUSTICE MERTON[Starting, crimson.]Woman!GOODY RICKBYYou left it behind—the last time.JUSTICE MERTONI have not the honour to remember—GOODY RICKBYThe one I embroidered?JUSTICE MERTON’Tis a matter—GOODY RICKBYOf some two and twenty years.[Stretching out the narrow width of the waistcoat.]Will you try it on now, dearie?JUSTICE MERTONUnconscionable! Un-un-unconscionable witch!GOODY RICKBYWitchling—thou used to say.JUSTICE MERTONPah! pah! I forget myself. Pride, permit me, goeth before afall. As a magistrate, Rickby, I have already borne with youlong! The last straw, however, breaks the camel’s back.GOODY RICKBYPoor camel!JUSTICE MERTONYou have soiled, you have smirched, the virgin reputation ofmy niece. You have inveigled her into notions of witchcraft;already the neighbours are beginning to talk. ’Tis a long lanewhich hath no turning, saith the Lord. Permit me—as a witch,thou art judged. Thou shalt hang.A VOICE[Behind him.]And me too?JUSTICE MERTON[Turns about and stares.]I beg pardon.THE VOICE[In front of him.]Not at all.JUSTICE MERTONDid—did somebody speak?THE VOICEDon’t you recognize my voice?Still and small, you know.If you will kindly let me out, we can chat.JUSTICE MERTON[Turning fiercely on Goody Rickby.]These are thy sorceries. But I fear them not.The righteous man walketh with God.[Going to the book which lies on the table.]Satan, I ban thee! I will read from the Holy Scriptures![Unclasping the Bible, he flings open the ponderouscovers.—Dickon steps forth in smoke.]DICKONThanks; it was stuffy in there.JUSTICE MERTON[Clasping his hands.]Dickon!DICKON[Moving a step nearer on the table.]Hillo, Gilly! Hillo, Bess!JUSTICE MERTONDickon! No! No!DICKONDo ye mind Auld Lang Syne—the chorus that night, Gilly?[Sings.]Gil-ead, Gil-ead, Gil-ead Merton,He was a silly head, silly head, Certain,When he forgot to steal a bed-Curtain!Encore, now!JUSTICE MERTONNo, no, be merciful! I will not harm her; she shall nothang: I swear, I swear it![Dickon disappears.]I swear—ah! Is he gone? Witchcraft! Witchcraft! I havewitnessed it. ’Tis proved on thee, slut. I swear it: thoushalt hang.[Exit wildly.]GOODY RICKBYAy, Gilead! I shall hangon! Ahaha! Dickon, thouangel! Ah, Satan! Satan! For a son now!DICKON[Reappearing.]Videlicet, in law—a bastard.N’est ce pas?GOODY RICKBYYea, in law and in justice, I should-a had one now. Worseluck that he died.DICKONOne and twenty years ago?[Goody Rickby nods.]Good; he should be of age now. One and twenty—a pretty age,too, for a rival. Haha!—For arrival?—Marry, he shall arrive,then; arrive and marry and inherit his patrimony—all on hisbirthday! Come, to work!GOODY RICKBYWhat rant is this?DICKONYet, Dickon, it pains me to perform such an anachronism. Allthis Mediævalism in Massachusetts!—These old-fashioned flamesand alchemic accompaniments, when I’ve tried so hard to be anative American product; it jars. Butche vuole! I’mnaturally middle-aged. I haven’t been really myself, let methink,—since 1492!GOODY RICKBYWhat art thou mooning about?DICKON[Still impenetrable.]There was my old friend in Germany, Dr. Johann Faustus; hewas nigh such a bag of old rubbish when I made him over. Ain’tit trite! No, you can’t teach an old dog like me new tricks.Still, a scarecrow! that’s decidedly local color. Come then; aYankee masterpiece![Seizing Goody Rickby by the arm, and placing her beforethe scarecrow, he makes a bow and wave of introduction.]Behold, madam, your son—illegitimate; the future affiancedof Mistress Rachel Merton, the heir-elect, through matrimony,of Merton House,—Gilead Merton second; Lord Ravensbane! Yourlordship—your mother.GOODY RICKBYDickon! Can you do it?DICKONI can—try.GOODY RICKBYYou will create him for me?—[Wickedly.]and for Gilead!DICKONI will—for a kiss.GOODY RICKBY[About to embrace him.]Dickon!DICKON[Dodging her.]Later. Now, the waistcoat.GOODY RICKBY[Handing it.]Rare! rare! He shall go wooing in’t—like his father.DICKON[Shifting the scarecrow’s gold-trimmed coat, slips on theembroidered waistcoat and replaces the coat.]Stand still, Jack! So, my macaroni.Perfecto!Stay—a walking-stick!GOODY RICKBY[Wrenching a spoke out of an old rickety wheel.]Here: the spoke for Gilead. He used to take me to drive inthe chaise it came out of.DICKON[Placing the spoke as a cane, in the scarecrow’s sleeve,views him with satisfaction.]Sic!There, Jacky!Filius fit non nascitur.—SamHill! My Latin is stale. “In the beginning, was the—gourd!”Of these thy modest ingredients may thy spirit smack![Making various mystic passes with his hands, Dickonintones, now deep and solemn, now with fanciful shrillrapidity, this incantation:]Flail, flip;Broom, sweep;Sic itur!CornstalkAnd turnip, talk!Turn crittur!Pulse, beet;Gourd, eat;AveHellas!Poker and punkin,Stir the old junk in:Breathe, bellows!Corn-cob,And crow’s feather,End the job:Jumble the rest o’ the rubbish together;Dovetail and tune ’em.E pluribus unum![The scarecrow remains stock still.]The devil! Have I lost the hang of it? Ah! Hullo! He’sdropped his pipe. What’s a dandy without his ’baccy![Restoring the corn-cob pipe to the scarecrow’s mouth.]’Tis the life and breath of him. So; hand me yon hazelswitch, Goody.[Waving it.]Presto!Brighten, coal,I’ the dusk between us!Whiten, soul!Propinquit Venus![A whiff of smoke puffs from the scarecrow’s pipe.]Sic! Sic! Jacobus![Another whiff.]Bravo![The whiffs grow more rapid and the thing trembles.]GOODY RICKBYPuff! puff, manny, for thy life!DICKONFiat, fœtus!—Huzza!Noch einmal!Go it![Clouds of smoke issue from the pipe, half fill the shop,and envelop the creature, who staggers.][A]GOODY RICKBYSee! See his eyes!DICKON[Beckoning with one finger.]Veni, fili! Veni!Take ’ee first step,bambino!—Toddle![The Scarecrow makes a stiff lurch forward and fallssidewise against the anvil, propped half-recliningagainst which he leans rigid, emitting fainter puffsof smoke in gasps.]GOODY RICKBY[Screams.]Have a care! He’s fallen.DICKONWell done, Punkin Jack! Thou shalt be knighted for that![Striking him on the shoulder with the hazel rod.]Rise, Lord Ravensbane![The Scarecrow totters to his feet, andmakes a forlorn rectilinear salutation.]GOODY RICKBYLook! He bows.—He flaps his flails at thee. He smiles likea tik-doo-loo-roo!DICKON[With a profound reverence, backing away.]Will his lordship deign to follow his tutor?[With hitches and jerks, the Scarecrow follows Dickon.]GOODY RICKBYO Lord! Lord! the style o’ the broomstick!DICKON[Holding ready a high-backed chair.]Will his lordship be seated and rest himself?[Awkwardly the Scarecrow half falls into the chair; hishead sinks sideways, and his pipe falls out. Dickonsnatches it up instantly and restores it to hismouth.]Puff! Puff,puer; ’tis thy life.[The Scarecrow puffs again.]Is his lordship’s tobacco refreshing?GOODY RICKBYLook now! The red colour in his cheeks. The beet-juice ispumping, oho!DICKON[Offering his arm.]Your lordship will deign to receive an audience?[The Scarecrow takes his arm and rises.]The Marchioness of Rickby, your lady mother, entreats leaveto present herself.GOODY RICKBY[Courtesying low.]My son!DICKON[Holding the pipe, and waving the hazel rod.]Dicite!Speak![The Scarecrow, blowing out his last mouthful of smoke,opens his mouth, gasps, gurgles, and is silent.]In principio erat verbum!Accost thy mother![The Scarecrow, clutching at his side in a strugglefor coherence, fixes a pathetic look of pain onGoody Rickby.]THE SCARECROWMother!GOODY RICKBY[With a scream of hysterical laughter, seizes bothDickon’s hands and dances him about the forge.]O Beelzebub! I shall die!DICKONThou hast thy son.[Dickon whispers in the Scarecrow’s ear, shakes hisfinger, and exit.]GOODY RICKBYHe called me “mother.” Again, boy, again.THE SCARECROWFrom the bottom of my heart—mother.GOODY RICKBY“The bottom of his heart”—Nay, thou killest me.THE SCARECROWPermit me, madam!GOODY RICKBYGilead! Gilead himself! Waistcoat, “permit me,” and all: thyfather over again, I tell thee.THE SCARECROW[With a slight stammer.]It gives me—I assure you—lady—the deepest happiness.GOODY RICKBYJust so the old hypocrite spoke when I said I’d have him.But thou hast a sweeter deference, my son.[Re-enter Dickon; he is dressed all in black, save for awhite stock,—a suit of plain elegance.]DICKONNow, my lord, your tutor is ready.THE SCARECROW[To Goody Rickby.]I have the honour—permit me—to wish you—good morning.[Bows and takes a step after Dickon, who, taking athree-cornered cocked hat from a peg, goes towardthe door.]GOODY RICKBYWhoa! Whoa, Jack! Whither away?DICKON[Presenting the hat.]Deign to reply, sir.THE SCARECROWI go—with my tutor—Master Dickonson—to pay myrespects—to his worship—the Justice—Merton—tosolicit—the hand—of his daughter—the fairMistress—Rachel.[With another bow.]Permit me.GOODY RICKBYPermit ye? God speed ye! Thou must teach him his tricks,Dickon.DICKONTrust me, Goody. Between here and Justice Merton’s, I willplay the mother-hen, and I promise thee, our bantling shall beas stuffed with compliments as a callow chick withcaterpillars.[As he throws open the big doors, the cawing of crowsis heard again.]Hark! your lordship’s retainers acclaim you on yourbirthday. They bid you welcome to your majority. Listen!“Long live Lord Ravensbane! Caw!”GOODY RICKBYLook! Count ’em, Dickon.One for sorrow,Two for mirth,Three for a wedding,Four for a birth—Four on ’em! So! Good luck on thy birthday!And see! There’s three on ’em flying into theJustice’s field.—Flight o’ the crowsTells how the wind blows!—A wedding! Get ye gone. Wed the girl, and stingthe Justice. Bless ye, my son!THE SCARECROW[With a profound reverence.]Mother—believe me—to be—your ladyship’s—most devoted—and obedient—son.DICKON[Prompting him aloud.]Ravensbane.THE SCARECROW[Donning his hat, lifts his head in hauteur, shakes hislace ruffle over his hand, turns his shoulder, nodsslightly, and speaks for the first time with completemastery of his voice.]Hm! Ravensbane![With one hand in the arm of Dickon, the other twirlinghis cane (the converted chaise-spoke), wreathed inhalos of smoke from his pipe, the fantastical figurehitches elegantly forth into the daylight, amid louderacclamations of the crows.]

Just before the scene opens, a hammer is heardringing briskly upon steel. As the curtain risesthere is discovered, standing at the anvil in theflickering light of a bright flame from the forge, awoman—powerful, ruddy, proud with a certain masterfulbeauty, white-haired (as though prematurely),bare-armed to the elbows, clad in a dark skirt (aboveher ankles), a loose blouse, open at the throat; aleathern apron and a workman’s cap. The woman isGoody Rickby.On the anvil she is shapinga piece of iron. Beside her stands a framework of ironformed like the ribs and backbone of a man. For a fewmoments she continues to ply her hammer, amid a showerof sparks, till suddenly the flame on the forge dies down.

GOODY RICKBYDickon! More flame.

A VOICE[Above her.]Yea, Goody.[The flame in the forge spurts up high and suddenly.]

GOODY RICKBYNay, not so fierce.

THE VOICE[At her side.]Votre pardon, madame.[The flame subsides.]Is that better?

GOODY RICKBYThat will do.[With her tongs, she thrusts the iron into the flame;it turns white-hot.]Quick work; nothing like brimstone for the smithy trade.

[At the anvil, she begins to weld the iron ribon to the framework.]

There, my beauty! We’ll make a stout set of ribs for you.I’ll see to it this year that I have a scarecrow can outstandall the nor’easters that blow. I’ve no notion to lose mycorn-crop this summer.

[Outside, the faint cawings of crows are heard. Puttingdown her tongs and hammer, Goody Rickby strides to thedouble door, and flinging it wide open, lets in thegray light of dawn. She looks out over the fields andshakes her fist.]

So ye’re up before me and the sun, are ye?[Squinting against the light.]There’s one! Nay, two. Aha!One for sorrow,Two for mirth—Good! This time we’ll have the laugh on our side.[She returns to the forge, where again the fire has died out.]Dickon! Fire! Come, come, where be thy wits?

THE VOICE[Sleepily from the forge.]’Tis early, dame.

GOODY RICKBYThe more need—[Takes up her tongs.]

THE VOICE[Screams.]Ow!

GOODY RICKBYHa! Have I got thee?

[From the blackness of the forge she pulls out with hertongs, by the right ear, the figure of a devil, hornedand tailed. In general aspect, though he resemblesa mediæval familiar demon, yet the suggestions of agoatish beard, a shrewdly humorous smile, and(whenhe speaks)the slightest of nasal drawls, remotelysimulate a species of Yankee rustic.Goody Rickby substitutes her fingers for the tongs.]

Now, Dickon!

DICKONDeus!I haven’t been nabbed like that since St.Dunstan tweaked my nose. Well, sweet Goody?

GOODY RICKBYThe bellows!

DICKON[Going slowly to the forge.]Why, ’tis hardly dawn yet. Honest folks are still abed.It makes a long day.

GOODY RICKBY[Working, while Dickon plies the bellows.]Aye, for your black pets, the crows, to work in.That’s why I’m at it early. You heard ’em. We musthave this scarecrow of ours out in the field at hispost before sunrise.[Finishing.]So, there! Now, Dickon boy, I want that you should—

DICKON[Whipping out a note-book and writing.]Wait! Another one! “I want that you should—”

GOODY RICKBYWhat’s that you’re writing?

DICKONThe phrase, Goody dear; the construction. Your New Englanddialect is hard for a poor cosmopolitan devil. What withutclauses in English and Latinized subjunctives—You want that Ishould—Well?

GOODY RICKBYMake a masterpiece. I’ve made the frame strong, so as tostand the weather;youmust make the body lifelike soas to fool the crows. Last year I stuck up a poor sham andafter a day they saw through it. This time, we must make ’emthink it’s a real human crittur.

DICKONTo fool the philosophers is my specialty, but the crows—hm!

GOODY RICKBYPooh! That staggers thee!

DICKONMadame Rickby, prod not the quick of my genius.I am Phidias, I am Raphael, I am the Lord God!—You shall see—[Demands with a gesture.]Yonder broomstick.

GOODY RICKBY[Fetching him a broom from the corner.]Good boy!

DICKON[Straddling the handle.]Haha! gee up! my Salem mare.[Then, pseudo-philosophically.]A broomstick—that’s for imagination!

[He begins to construct the scarecrow, while Goody Rickby,assisting, brings the constructive parts from variousnooks and corners.]

We are all pretty artists, to be sure, Bessie. Phidias, hesculptures the gods; Raphael, he paints the angels; the LordGod, he creates Adam; and Dickon—fetch me the poker—aha!Dickon! What doth Dickon? He nullifies ’em all; he endows theScarecrow!—A poker: here’s his conscience. There’s two finelegs to walk on,—imagination and conscience. Yonder flailsnow! The ideal—thebeau idéal, dame—that’s what we artistsseek. The apotheosis of scarecrows! And pray, what’s ascarecrow? Why, the antithesis of Adam.—“Let there becandles!” quoth the Lord God, sitting in the dark. “Let therebe candle-extinguishers,” saith Dickon. “I am made in theimage of my maker,” quoth Adam. “Look at yourself in theglass,” saith Goodman Scarecrow.[Taking two implements from Goody Rickby.]Fine! fine! here are flails—one for wit, t’other forsatire.Sapristi!I with two such arms, my lad, how thouwilt work thy way in the world!

GOODY RICKBYYou talk as if you were making a real mortal, Dickon.

DICKONTo fool a crow, Goody, I must fashion a critturthat will first deceive a man.

GOODY RICKBYHe’ll scarce do that without a head.[Pointing to the loft.]What think ye of yonder Jack-o’-lantern? ’Twas made last Hallowe’en.

DICKONRare, my Psyche! We shall collaborate. Here!

[Running up the ladder, he tosses down a yellowhollowed pumpkin to Goody Rickby, who catches it.Then rummaging forth an armful of cornstalks, ears,tassels, dried squashes, gourds, beets, etc., hedescends and throws them in a heap on the floor.]

Whist! the anatomy.

GOODY RICKBY[Placing the pumpkin on the shoulders.]Look!

DICKONO Johannes Baptista!What wouldst thou have given forsuch a head! I helped Salome to cut his off, dame, and itlooked not half so appetizing on her charger. Tut! Copernicuswore once such a pumpkin, but it is rotten. Look at his goldensmile! Hail, Phœbus Apollo!

GOODY RICKBY’Tis the finest scarecrow in town.

DICKONNay, poor soul, ’tis but a skeleton yet.He must have a man’s heart in him.[Picking a big red beet from among the cornstalks,he places it under the left side of the ribs.]Hush! Dost thou hear itbeat?

GOODY RICKBYThou merry rogue!

DICKONNow for the lungs of him.[Snatching a small pair of bellows from a peg on the wall.]That’s for eloquence! He’ll preach the black knaves a sermonon theft. And now—

[Here, with Goody Rickby’s help, he stuffs the frameworkwith the gourds, corn, etc., from the loft, weaving thehusks about the legs and arms.]

here goes for digestion and inherited instincts! More corn,Goody. Now he’ll fight for his own flesh and blood!

GOODY RICKBY[Laughing.]Dickon, I am proud of thee.

DICKONWait till you see his peruke.[Seizing a feather duster made of crow’s feathers.]Voici!Scalps of the enemy!

[Pulling them apart, he arranges the feathers on thepumpkin, like a gentleman’s wig.]

A rare conqueror!

GOODY RICKBYOh, you beauty!

DICKONAnd now a bit of comfort for dark days and stormy nights.

[Taking a piece of corn-cob with the kernels onit, Dickon makes a pipe, which he puts into thescarecrow’s mouth.]

So! There, Goody! I tell thee, with yonder brand-new coatand breeches of mine—those there in my cupboard!—we’ll makehim a lad to be proud of.

[Taking the clothes, which Goody Rickby brings—a pairof fine scarlet breeches and a gold-embroidered coatwith ruffles of lace—he puts them upon the scarecrow.Then, eying it like a connoisseur, makes a fewfinishing touches.]

Why, dame, he’ll be a son to thee.

GOODY RICKBYA son? Ay, if I had but a son!

DICKONWhy, here you have him.[To the scarecrow.]Thou wilt scare the crows off thy mother’s corn-field—won’t my pretty? And send ’em all over t’other side thewall—to her dear neighbour’s, the Justice Gilead Merton’s.

GOODY RICKBYJustice Merton! Nay, if they’d only peck his eyes out,instead of his corn.

DICKON[Grinning.]Yet the Justice was a dear friend of “Blacksmith Bess.”

GOODY RICKBYAy, “Blacksmith Bess!” If I hadn’t had a good stout arm whenhe cast me off with the babe, I might have starved for all hisworship cared.

DICKONTrue, Bessie; ’twas a scurvy trick he played on thee—and onme, that took such pains to bring you together—to steal ayoung maid’s heart—

GOODY RICKBYAnd then toss it away like a bad penny to the gutter!And the child—to die![Lifting her hammer in rage.]Ha! if I could get the worshipful Justice Gilead into mypower again—[Drops the hammer sullenly on the anvil.]But no! I shall beat my life away on this anvil, whilst myjustice clinks his gold, and drinks his port to a fat old age.Justice! Ha—justice of God!

DICKONWhist, dame! Talk of angels and hear the rustle of theirrelatives.

GOODY RICKBY[Turning, watches outside a girl’s figure approaching.]His niece—Rachel Merton! What can she want so early? Nay, Imind me; ’tis the mirror. She’s a maid after our own hearts,boy,—no Sabbath-go-to-meeting airs abouther! She hath read thebooks of themagifrom cover to cover, and paid me good guineasfor ’em, though her uncle knows naught on’t. Besides, she’s in love,Dickon.

DICKON[Indicating the scarecrow.]Ah? Withhim? Is it a rendezvous?

GOODY RICKBY[With a laugh.]Pff! Begone!

DICKON[Shakes his finger at the scarecrow.]Thou naughty rogue!

[Then, still smiling slyly, with his head placedconfidentially next to the scarecrow’s ear, as ifwhispering, and with his hand pointing to the maidenoutside, Dickon fades away into air.Rachelenters, nervous and hesitant. Goody Rickby makes hera courtesy, which she acknowledges by a nod, halfabsent-minded.]

GOODY RICKBYMistress Rachel Merton—so early! I hope your uncle, ourworshipful Justice, is not ill?

RACHELNo, my uncle is quite well. The early morning suits mebest for a walk. You are—quite alone?

GOODY RICKBYQuite alone, mistress. [Bitterly.] Oh, folks don’tcall on Goody Rickby—except on business.

RACHEL[Absently, looking round in the dim shop.]Yes—you must be busy. Is it—is it here?

GOODY RICKBYYou mean the—

RACHEL[Starting back, with a cry.]Ah! who’s that?

GOODY RICKBY[Chuckling.]Fear not, mistress; ’tis nothing but a scarecrow.I’m going to put him in my corn-field yonder. The crows areso pesky this year.

RACHEL[Draws her skirts away with a shiver.]How loathsome!

GOODY RICKBY[Vastly pleased.]He’ll do!

RACHELAh, here!—This isthemirror?

GOODY RICKBYYea, mistress, and a wonderful glass it is, as I told you.I wouldn’t sell it to most comers, but seeing how you andMaster Talbot—

RACHELYes; that will do.

GOODY RICKBYYou see, if the town folks guessed what it was, well—You’veheard tell of the gibbets on Salem hill? There’s not many inNew England like you, Mistress Rachel. You know enough toapprove some miracles—outside the Scriptures.

RACHELYou are quite sure the glass will do all you say?It—never fails?

GOODY RICKBYAy, now, mistress, how could it? ’Tis the glass oftruth—[insinuatingly] the glass of true lovers. Itshows folks just as they are; no shams, no varnish. If yoursweetheart be false, the glass will reveal it. If a wolfshould dress himself in a white sheep’s wool, this glass wouldreflect the black beast inside it.

RACHELBut what of the sins of the soul, Goody? Vanity, hypocrisy,and—and inconstancy? Will it surely reveal them?

GOODY RICKBYI have told you, my young lady. If it doth not as I say,bring it back and get your money again. Trust me, sweeting,’tis your only mouse-trap for a man. Why, an old dame hatheyes in her heart yet. If your lover be false, this glassshall pluck his fine feathers!

RACHEL[With aloofness.]’Tis no question of that. I wish the glass to—to amuse me.

GOODY RICKBY[Laughing.]Why, then, it shall amuse you. Try it on some of your neighbours.

RACHELYou ask a large price for it.

GOODY RICKBY[Shrugs.]I run risks. Besides, where will you get another?

RACHELThat is true. Here, I will buy it. That is thesum you mentioned, I believe?

[She hands a purse to Goody Rickby who opens it andcounts over some coins.]

GOODY RICKBYLet see; let see.

RACHELWell?

GOODY RICKBYGood: ’tis good. Folks call me a witch, mistress.Well—harkee—a witch’s word is as good as a justice’s gold.The glass is yours—with my blessing.

RACHELSpare yourself that, dame. But the glass: how am I to get it?How will you send it to me—quietly?

GOODY RICKBYTrust me for that. I’ve a willing lad that helps me withsuch errands; a neighbour o’ mine.[Calls.]Ebenezer!

RACHEL[Startled.]What! is he here?

GOODY RICKBYIn the hay-loft. The boy’s an orphan; he sleeps there o’times. Ebenezer!

[A raw, dishevelled country boy appears in the loft,slides down the ladder, and shuffles up sleepily.]

THE BOYEvenin’.

RACHEL[Drawing Goody Rickby aside.]You understand; I desire no comment about this purchase.

GOODY RICKBYNor I, mistress, be sure.

RACHELIs he—?

GOODY RICKBY[Tapping her forehead significantly.]Trust his wits who hath no wit; he’s mum.

RACHELOh!

THE BOY[Gaping.]Job?

GOODY RICKBYYea, rumple-head! His job this morning is to bear yonderglass to the house of Justice Merton—the big one on the hill;to the side door. Mind, no gabbing. Doth he catch?

THE BOY[Nodding and grinning.]’E swallows.

RACHELBut is the boy strong enough?

GOODY RICKBYHim?[Pointing to the anvil.]Ebenezer!

[The boy spits on his palms, takes hold of the anvil,lifts it, drops it again, sits on it, and grins atthe door, just as Richard Talbot appears there, fromoutside.]

RACHELGracious!

GOODY RICKBYTrust him. He’ll carry the glass for you.

RACHELI will return home at once, then. Let him go quietly to theside door, and wait for me. Good morning.[Turning, she confronts Richard.]

RICHARDGood morning.

RACHELRichard!—Squire Talbot, you—you are abroad early.

RICHARDAs early as Mistress Rachel. Is it pardonable?I caught sight of you walking in this direction, soI thought it wise to follow, lest—[Looks hard at Goody Rickby.]

RACHELVery kind. Thanks. I’ve done my errand.Well; we can return together.[To Goody Rickby.]You will make sure that I receive the—the article.

GOODY RICKBYTrust me, mistress.[Courtesying.]Squire Talbot! the honour, sir!

RICHARD[Bluntly, looking from one to the other.]What article?

[Rachel ignores the question and starts to pass out.Richard frowns at Goody Rickby, who stammers.]

GOODY RICKBYBegging your pardon, sir?

RICHARDWhat article? I said.[After a short, embarrassed pause: more sternly.]Well?

GOODY RICKBYOh, the article! Yonder old glass, to be sure, sir.A quaint piece, your honour.

RICHARDRachel, you haven’t come here at sunrise to buy—that thing?

RACHELVerily, “that thing” and at sunrise. A pretty time for apretty purchase. Are you coming?

RICHARD[In a low voice.]More witchcraft nonsense? Do you realize this is serious?

RACHELOh, of course. You know I am desperately mystical,so pray let us not discuss it. Good-by.

RICHARDRachel, just a moment. If you want a mirror, youshall have the prettiest one in New England. Or I willimport you one from London. Only—I beg of you—don’tbuy stolen goods.

GOODY RICKBYStolen goods?

RACHEL[Aside to Richard.]Don’t! don’t!

RICHARDAt least, articles under suspicion.[To Goody Rickby.]Can you account for this mirror—how you came by it?

GOODY RICKBYI’ll show ye! I’ll show ye! Stolen—ha!

RICHARDCome, old swindler, keep your mirror, and givethis lady back her money.

GOODY RICKBYI’ll damn ye both, I will!—Stolen!

RACHEL[Imploringly.]Will you come?

RICHARDLook you, old Rickby; this is not the first time. Charm allthe broomsticks in town, if you like; bewitch all the tablesand saucepans and mirrors you please; but gull no more moneyout of young girls. Mind you! We’re not so enterprising inthis town as at Salem; but—it may come to it! So looksharp! I’m not blind to what’s going on here.

GOODY RICKBYNot blind, Master Puritan? Oho! You can see through all mycounterfeits, can ye? So! you would scrape all the wonderout’n the world, as I’ve scraped all the meat out’n mypunkin-head yonder! Aha! wait and see! Afore sundown, I’llsend ye a nut to crack, shall make your orthodox jaws ache.Your servant, Master Deuteronomy!

RICHARD[To Rachel, who has seized his arm.]We’ll go.[Exeunt Richard and Rachel.]

GOODY RICKBY[Calls shrilly after them.]Trot away, pretty team; toss your heads. I’ll unhitch ye andtake off your blinders.

THE SLOUCHING BOY[Capering and grimacing in front of themirror, shrieks with laughter.]Ohoho!

GOODY RICKBY[Returning, savagely.]Yes, yes, my fine lover! I’ll pay thee for “stolengoods”—I’ll pay thee.[Screams.]Dickon! Stop laughing.

THE BOYO Lord! O Lord!

GOODY RICKBYWhat tickles thy mirth now?

THE BOYFor to think as the soul of an orphan innocent,what lives in a hay-loft, should wear horns.

[On looking into the mirror, the spectator perceivestherein that the reflection of the slouching boy isthe horned demon figure of Dickon, who performs thesame antics in pantomime within the glass as the boydoes without.]

GOODY RICKBYYea; ’tis a wise devil that knows his own face in the glass.But hark now! Thou must find me a rival for thiscock-squire,—dost hear? A rival, that shall steal away theheart of his Mistress Rachel.

DICKONAnd take her to church?

GOODY RICKBYTo church or to Hell. All’s one.

DICKONA rival![Pointing at the glass.]How wouldheserve—in there? Dear Ebenezer! Fancythe deacons in the vestry, Goody, and her uncle, the Justice,when they saw him escorting the bride to the altar, with histail round her waist!

GOODY RICKBYTut, tut! Think it over in earnest, and meantime take herthe glass. Wait, we’d best fold it up small, so as not toattract notice on the road.

[Dickon, who has already drawn the curtains over theglass, grasps one side of the large frame, GoodyRickby the other.]

Now!

[Pushing their shoulders against the two sides, the framedisappears and Dickon holds in his hand a mirror abouta foot square, of the same design.]

So! Be off! And mind, a rival for Richard!

DICKONFor Richard a rival,Dear Goody RickbyWants Dickon’s connival:Lord! What can the trick be?[To the scarecrow.]By-by, Sonny; take care of thy mother.

[Dickon slouches out with the glass, whistling.]

GOODY RICKBYMother! Yea, if only I had a son—the Justice Merton’s andmine! If the brat had but lived now to remind him of thosemerry days, which he has forgotten. Zooks, wouldn’t I put aspoke in his wheel! But no such luck for me! No such luck!

[As she goes to the forge, the stout figure of a manappears in the doorway behind her. Under one arm hecarries a large book, in the other hand a gold-headedcane. He hesitates, embarrassed.]

THE MANPermit me, Madam.

GOODY RICKBY[Turning.]Ah, him!—Justice Merton!

JUSTICE MERTON[Removing his hat, steps over the sill, and lays hisgreat book on the table; then with a superciliouslook, he puts his hat firmly on again.]Permit me, dame.

GOODY RICKBYYou!

[With confused, affected hauteur, the Justice shifts fromfoot to foot, flourishing his cane. As he speaks,Goody Rickby, with a shrewd, painful expression, drawsslowly backward toward the door left, which opens intoan inner room. Reaching it, she opens it part way,stands facing him, and listens.]

JUSTICE MERTONI have had the honour—permit me—to entertain suspicions;to rise early, to follow my niece, to meet just now SquireTalbot, an excellent young gentleman of wealth, if not offashion; to hear his remarks concerning—hem!—you, dame! tocall here—permit me—to express myself and inquire—

GOODY RICKBYConcerning your waistcoat?

[Turning quickly, she snatches an article of apparelwhich hangs on the inner side of the door, and holdsit up.]

JUSTICE MERTON[Starting, crimson.]Woman!

GOODY RICKBYYou left it behind—the last time.

JUSTICE MERTONI have not the honour to remember—

GOODY RICKBYThe one I embroidered?

JUSTICE MERTON’Tis a matter—

GOODY RICKBYOf some two and twenty years.[Stretching out the narrow width of the waistcoat.]Will you try it on now, dearie?

JUSTICE MERTONUnconscionable! Un-un-unconscionable witch!

GOODY RICKBYWitchling—thou used to say.

JUSTICE MERTON

Pah! pah! I forget myself. Pride, permit me, goeth before afall. As a magistrate, Rickby, I have already borne with youlong! The last straw, however, breaks the camel’s back.

GOODY RICKBYPoor camel!

JUSTICE MERTONYou have soiled, you have smirched, the virgin reputation ofmy niece. You have inveigled her into notions of witchcraft;already the neighbours are beginning to talk. ’Tis a long lanewhich hath no turning, saith the Lord. Permit me—as a witch,thou art judged. Thou shalt hang.

A VOICE[Behind him.]And me too?

JUSTICE MERTON[Turns about and stares.]I beg pardon.

THE VOICE[In front of him.]Not at all.

JUSTICE MERTONDid—did somebody speak?

THE VOICEDon’t you recognize my voice?Still and small, you know.If you will kindly let me out, we can chat.

JUSTICE MERTON[Turning fiercely on Goody Rickby.]These are thy sorceries. But I fear them not.The righteous man walketh with God.[Going to the book which lies on the table.]Satan, I ban thee! I will read from the Holy Scriptures!

[Unclasping the Bible, he flings open the ponderouscovers.—Dickon steps forth in smoke.]

DICKONThanks; it was stuffy in there.

JUSTICE MERTON[Clasping his hands.]Dickon!

DICKON[Moving a step nearer on the table.]Hillo, Gilly! Hillo, Bess!

JUSTICE MERTONDickon! No! No!

DICKONDo ye mind Auld Lang Syne—the chorus that night, Gilly?[Sings.]Gil-ead, Gil-ead, Gil-ead Merton,He was a silly head, silly head, Certain,When he forgot to steal a bed-Curtain!Encore, now!

JUSTICE MERTONNo, no, be merciful! I will not harm her; she shall nothang: I swear, I swear it![Dickon disappears.]I swear—ah! Is he gone? Witchcraft! Witchcraft! I havewitnessed it. ’Tis proved on thee, slut. I swear it: thoushalt hang.[Exit wildly.]

GOODY RICKBYAy, Gilead! I shall hangon! Ahaha! Dickon, thouangel! Ah, Satan! Satan! For a son now!

DICKON[Reappearing.]Videlicet, in law—a bastard.N’est ce pas?

GOODY RICKBYYea, in law and in justice, I should-a had one now. Worseluck that he died.

DICKONOne and twenty years ago?[Goody Rickby nods.]Good; he should be of age now. One and twenty—a pretty age,too, for a rival. Haha!—For arrival?—Marry, he shall arrive,then; arrive and marry and inherit his patrimony—all on hisbirthday! Come, to work!

GOODY RICKBYWhat rant is this?

DICKONYet, Dickon, it pains me to perform such an anachronism. Allthis Mediævalism in Massachusetts!—These old-fashioned flamesand alchemic accompaniments, when I’ve tried so hard to be anative American product; it jars. Butche vuole! I’mnaturally middle-aged. I haven’t been really myself, let methink,—since 1492!

GOODY RICKBYWhat art thou mooning about?

DICKON[Still impenetrable.]There was my old friend in Germany, Dr. Johann Faustus; hewas nigh such a bag of old rubbish when I made him over. Ain’tit trite! No, you can’t teach an old dog like me new tricks.Still, a scarecrow! that’s decidedly local color. Come then; aYankee masterpiece!

[Seizing Goody Rickby by the arm, and placing her beforethe scarecrow, he makes a bow and wave of introduction.]

Behold, madam, your son—illegitimate; the future affiancedof Mistress Rachel Merton, the heir-elect, through matrimony,of Merton House,—Gilead Merton second; Lord Ravensbane! Yourlordship—your mother.

GOODY RICKBYDickon! Can you do it?

DICKONI can—try.

GOODY RICKBYYou will create him for me?—[Wickedly.]and for Gilead!

DICKONI will—for a kiss.

GOODY RICKBY[About to embrace him.]Dickon!

DICKON[Dodging her.]Later. Now, the waistcoat.

GOODY RICKBY[Handing it.]Rare! rare! He shall go wooing in’t—like his father.

DICKON[Shifting the scarecrow’s gold-trimmed coat, slips on theembroidered waistcoat and replaces the coat.]Stand still, Jack! So, my macaroni.Perfecto!Stay—a walking-stick!

GOODY RICKBY[Wrenching a spoke out of an old rickety wheel.]Here: the spoke for Gilead. He used to take me to drive inthe chaise it came out of.

DICKON[Placing the spoke as a cane, in the scarecrow’s sleeve,views him with satisfaction.]Sic!There, Jacky!Filius fit non nascitur.—SamHill! My Latin is stale. “In the beginning, was the—gourd!”Of these thy modest ingredients may thy spirit smack!

[Making various mystic passes with his hands, Dickonintones, now deep and solemn, now with fanciful shrillrapidity, this incantation:]

Flail, flip;Broom, sweep;Sic itur!CornstalkAnd turnip, talk!Turn crittur!

Pulse, beet;Gourd, eat;AveHellas!Poker and punkin,Stir the old junk in:Breathe, bellows!

Corn-cob,And crow’s feather,End the job:Jumble the rest o’ the rubbish together;Dovetail and tune ’em.E pluribus unum!

[The scarecrow remains stock still.]

The devil! Have I lost the hang of it? Ah! Hullo! He’sdropped his pipe. What’s a dandy without his ’baccy![Restoring the corn-cob pipe to the scarecrow’s mouth.]’Tis the life and breath of him. So; hand me yon hazelswitch, Goody.[Waving it.]Presto!Brighten, coal,I’ the dusk between us!Whiten, soul!Propinquit Venus!

[A whiff of smoke puffs from the scarecrow’s pipe.]Sic! Sic! Jacobus![Another whiff.]Bravo![The whiffs grow more rapid and the thing trembles.]

GOODY RICKBYPuff! puff, manny, for thy life!

DICKONFiat, fœtus!—Huzza!Noch einmal!Go it!

[Clouds of smoke issue from the pipe, half fill the shop,and envelop the creature, who staggers.][A]

GOODY RICKBYSee! See his eyes!

DICKON[Beckoning with one finger.]Veni, fili! Veni!Take ’ee first step,bambino!—Toddle!

[The Scarecrow makes a stiff lurch forward and fallssidewise against the anvil, propped half-recliningagainst which he leans rigid, emitting fainter puffsof smoke in gasps.]

GOODY RICKBY[Screams.]Have a care! He’s fallen.

DICKONWell done, Punkin Jack! Thou shalt be knighted for that![Striking him on the shoulder with the hazel rod.]Rise, Lord Ravensbane![The Scarecrow totters to his feet, andmakes a forlorn rectilinear salutation.]

GOODY RICKBYLook! He bows.—He flaps his flails at thee. He smiles likea tik-doo-loo-roo!

DICKON[With a profound reverence, backing away.]Will his lordship deign to follow his tutor?[With hitches and jerks, the Scarecrow follows Dickon.]

GOODY RICKBYO Lord! Lord! the style o’ the broomstick!

DICKON[Holding ready a high-backed chair.]Will his lordship be seated and rest himself?

[Awkwardly the Scarecrow half falls into the chair; hishead sinks sideways, and his pipe falls out. Dickonsnatches it up instantly and restores it to hismouth.]

Puff! Puff,puer; ’tis thy life.[The Scarecrow puffs again.]Is his lordship’s tobacco refreshing?

GOODY RICKBYLook now! The red colour in his cheeks. The beet-juice ispumping, oho!

DICKON[Offering his arm.]Your lordship will deign to receive an audience?[The Scarecrow takes his arm and rises.]The Marchioness of Rickby, your lady mother, entreats leaveto present herself.

GOODY RICKBY[Courtesying low.]My son!

DICKON[Holding the pipe, and waving the hazel rod.]Dicite!Speak!

[The Scarecrow, blowing out his last mouthful of smoke,opens his mouth, gasps, gurgles, and is silent.]

In principio erat verbum!Accost thy mother!

[The Scarecrow, clutching at his side in a strugglefor coherence, fixes a pathetic look of pain onGoody Rickby.]

THE SCARECROWMother!

GOODY RICKBY[With a scream of hysterical laughter, seizes bothDickon’s hands and dances him about the forge.]O Beelzebub! I shall die!

DICKONThou hast thy son.[Dickon whispers in the Scarecrow’s ear, shakes hisfinger, and exit.]

GOODY RICKBYHe called me “mother.” Again, boy, again.

THE SCARECROWFrom the bottom of my heart—mother.

GOODY RICKBY“The bottom of his heart”—Nay, thou killest me.

THE SCARECROWPermit me, madam!

GOODY RICKBYGilead! Gilead himself! Waistcoat, “permit me,” and all: thyfather over again, I tell thee.

THE SCARECROW[With a slight stammer.]It gives me—I assure you—lady—the deepest happiness.

GOODY RICKBYJust so the old hypocrite spoke when I said I’d have him.But thou hast a sweeter deference, my son.

[Re-enter Dickon; he is dressed all in black, save for awhite stock,—a suit of plain elegance.]

DICKONNow, my lord, your tutor is ready.

THE SCARECROW[To Goody Rickby.]I have the honour—permit me—to wish you—good morning.

[Bows and takes a step after Dickon, who, taking athree-cornered cocked hat from a peg, goes towardthe door.]

GOODY RICKBYWhoa! Whoa, Jack! Whither away?

DICKON[Presenting the hat.]Deign to reply, sir.

THE SCARECROWI go—with my tutor—Master Dickonson—to pay myrespects—to his worship—the Justice—Merton—tosolicit—the hand—of his daughter—the fairMistress—Rachel.[With another bow.]Permit me.

GOODY RICKBYPermit ye? God speed ye! Thou must teach him his tricks,Dickon.

DICKONTrust me, Goody. Between here and Justice Merton’s, I willplay the mother-hen, and I promise thee, our bantling shall beas stuffed with compliments as a callow chick withcaterpillars.

[As he throws open the big doors, the cawing of crowsis heard again.]

Hark! your lordship’s retainers acclaim you on yourbirthday. They bid you welcome to your majority. Listen!“Long live Lord Ravensbane! Caw!”

GOODY RICKBYLook! Count ’em, Dickon.One for sorrow,Two for mirth,Three for a wedding,Four for a birth—Four on ’em! So! Good luck on thy birthday!And see! There’s three on ’em flying into theJustice’s field.—Flight o’ the crowsTells how the wind blows!—A wedding! Get ye gone. Wed the girl, and stingthe Justice. Bless ye, my son!

THE SCARECROW[With a profound reverence.]

Mother—believe me—to be—your ladyship’s—most devoted—and obedient—son.

DICKON[Prompting him aloud.]Ravensbane.

THE SCARECROW[Donning his hat, lifts his head in hauteur, shakes hislace ruffle over his hand, turns his shoulder, nodsslightly, and speaks for the first time with completemastery of his voice.]Hm! Ravensbane![With one hand in the arm of Dickon, the other twirlinghis cane (the converted chaise-spoke), wreathed inhalos of smoke from his pipe, the fantastical figurehitches elegantly forth into the daylight, amid louderacclamations of the crows.]

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