Here is the play with the latest lines added to it (NOTE: the new lines begin after MARY'S line: "Are you comparing my Susan to a plow horse?")
PS; I just jotted these new lines off this morning. I meant to just include the new lines in this post, but accidentally copied the whole script (in a hurry, have to leave for work shortly) Let me know if you see any problems or serious errors..and thanks so much for critiqing my work. xx (big hugs)
Ten-minute Play
The Old Maid
by N. B. G.
SETTING: An old New England farm, in the hills of Vermont. The year is 1917. It is early November, at dusk, the end of a long day of laborious farm chores. The sun is setting, painting its orange and rose-tinted colors over the silvery-gray boards of the old barn. There is a bench outside the barn, and some bits of harness that have been left there, in the process of being mended.
CAST:
JACOB…………….about 75 years old, stooped from years of hard toil
MARY……………..JACOB’S wife, a severe and staunchly upright woman
SUSAN…………….JACOB’S daughter
GEORGE…………..a slow-witted itinerant farm hand--they refer to him as a “boy, even tho’ he’s a grown man.
AT RISE: JACOB enters from stage right. He limps to the bench in front of the barn, carrying a leather sewing awl in his hand. He sits slowly, taking a moment to admire the sunset.
JACOB: “What a beautiful evenin’! The sun glowing on the smoky gray hills, like it was shinin’ through stained glass. Just beautiful! After a hard day of cuttin’ firewood, moments like this are a real treat--yessiree bob, it’s a real pleasure, to just set here and admire God’s handiwork. (He looks upward.) You painted a genuine masterpiece tonight, Lord, and I give you thanks for that. Nothin’ like a November sunset, it’s the best thing about this time a’ year, I reckon.” (He sighs contentedly, and bends to the task of fixing the harness.)
(MARY calls from off of stage right)
MARY: “Jacob? Jacob? Where are you?”
JACOB: “I’m out by the barn, Mary, mendin’ some harness”.
MARY: (Enters stage right, standing just in sight of the audience, as if standing in a door yard.) “Well don’t forget to tell George to bring me some more kindling for the stove. I want to bake some bread tomorrow, and the kindling’s near gone--and you know what an addle-brain that boy is!”
JACOB: “Wife, don’t be sayin’ such things about George! I won’t have it. He’s a good boy.”
MARY: “Just you tell him, Jacob, you hear?” (Without waiting for a response she exits).
JACOB: (Sighing heavily) “Yes, Mary, I’ll remind him when I see him.” (Frowning, he bends to the task of mending the harness again--but then his hand slips and he winces and flexes his hand.) “Darn hands don’t want to work right any longer. Like the rest of me, I suppose. Slowing down, like a clock that life has forgotten to re-wind. (Suddenly, he gasps and clutches his heart. JACOB bends over for a minute, then, slowly relaxes and straightens up again, breathing slowly. He looks up at the sky again, pensively.) "Well Lord, I feel the steely touch of darkness gathering itself into my wounded heart. The rushing of the moon-cold wind, a tumultuous feathery trembling inside my cobalt-tinged soul. It scares me, sometimes. This ebony-colored space that hides in the violet-edged gloom of my life." (He looks sadly at the fading sun). “I’m just slowly fading away now, like the night shadows, slowly creeping oer’ the hills.”
(GEORGE enters, shambling along, carrying an empty water bucket. He nods to JACOB.)
GEORGE: Hello, Jacob.
JACOB: Evenin’ George.
(George stands next to Jacob, and they stare appreciatively at the sunset.)
GEORGE: “Pretty, ain’t it?”
JACOB: Ey’yah.
GEORGE: I got the stock watered, what you want me to do now, Jacob?
JACOB: “Mary’s doin’ her bakin’ tomorrah’. She asked me to remind you to bring her a stack of kindlin’ for the stove.
GEORGE: (Unenthusiastically.) Oh. (He dithers, looking down at the ground and scraping his toe in the dirt.) Okay, Jacob.
JACOB: (Kindly) I know she’s a bit stern with you, sometimes. She wasn’t blessed with the patience of men, like you or I, George. But, she’s a good woman, in her way, and she don’t mean nothin’ by it. Why only yesterday, she told me you were one of the hardest working hands we’d ever hired. (Smiling gently) You just go along now, and in a little while, we’ll all of us set down to a nice supper, ey?
GEORGE: (Returning the smile.) Okay, Jacob. (He sets the bucket down and shambles offstage. JACOB sighs, and intently resumes his repair of the harness.)
( SUSAN runs out from stage right, over to where JACOB is sitting.)
SUSAN: Papa!
JACOB: Now, just wait one moment, Susan. (He works industriously at finishing his sewing of the piece of leather.)
SUSAN: Papa!
JACOB: Can’t rush some things, my pet--not if you want the job done right, anyhow. Whatever it is, I’m sure it can wait another minute or two. Why don’t you just take a breath, and enjoy the nice sunset, ey?
SUSAN: (Gives a scornful glance in the direction of the setting sun, and stamps her foot impatiently.) A person would think you are more fond of some rotten old piece of leather, than you are of your own daughter!
JACOB: (Sewing the last stitch, he puts the little piece of leather on the bench beside him. He looks up into his daughter’s face with a serious expression.) Now, Susan, you know that isn’t true, dear. Here, see this old piece of harness?
SUSAN: Of course I can see it, papa! I’m not addled ya’know!
JACOB: But, you see Susan, if I’d not have gone to the trouble of repairing it, it would have become utterly useless-why, I’d have to go out and buy a whole new set of harness--just for the failure of one little piece that I’d allowed to fall into neglect.
SUSAN: So, your savin’ money is more important than talkin’ to your own daughter, is that it?
JACOB: Not at all, sweetheart. (He gestures towards the bench) Come here and sit beside me. (SUSAN sits on the edge of the bench, still slightly agistated.) What I mean is, dear, that if we neglect the little things that go wrong--then those things can worsen, and get out of hand. Why, suppos’n I didn’t repair that little bit o’ harness, and it broke while I was drivin’ you and your mother to town in the buggy? Well, then we’d have a rather serious problem on our hands, wouldn’t we? Now, I’m listening. Tell me, what is it that has you in such a state, Susan?
SUSAN: It’s George, papa.
JACOB: What about him?
SUSAN: He keeps staring at me, every time we sit down at the table for a meal.
JACOB: Waal, maybe that’s because he thinks you’re pretty.
SUSAN: But I don’t like it, papa! That idiot staring at me, it’s just not right.
JACOB: Whoa, now hold on there, gal. You know I don’t hold with petty name-calling.
SUSAN: Sorry, papa. But, I still don’t like him. He gives me the shudders.
JACOB: What are you saying? What’s he done to make you so afraid of him? Is it because he’s different? Or, is it something else? Something you’re not tellin’ me?
SUSAN: No, he hasn’t made a move towards me.
JACOB: Do you want him to?
SUSAN: (Genuinely shocked) No! Papa, how could you even suggest such a thing? I-I don’t need a beau, I’m happy just as I am, with you and mama.
(All of a sudden, JACOB leans in and gently places his hand on SUSAN’S thigh)
JACOB: You like being with me, here, don’t you Susan? We make a good team, you and I. Like my ol’ plow horses, Andy and Arrow, pullin’ together, (Absently sliding his hand down her dress and squeezing her knee.) sharin’ the work and helping things to grow.
(Without seeming to realize she’s even doing it, Susan squirms at her father’s touch. For a moment, there is an uncomfortable silence. It is broken by the banging of a door, and a few seconds later, MARY comes stalking over. SUSAN hurriedly stands up and stands, guiltily looking at her mother.)
Uh-oh. (To himself.) By the looks a’things, I’d say the storm clouds are approachin’, to rain upon our tranquility. (He heaves an audible, martyred sigh.)
MARY: Susan? What are you doing out here? I thought I asked you to finish the ironing, and here you are, jawin’ the evening away with papa. Honestly girl! I don’t know what’s getting into you these days. I swear you’re getting more daft in the head than George is!
JACOB: Now, Mary…
MARY: Don’t you make excuses to me, Jacob! Well you know, that the only way we can keep this farm going, is by all of us workin’ together. And if one of us isn’t holding up our end, the whole thing falls apart, like a barn whose beams have rotted from the inside. What was so important Susan, for you had to come all the way out here to see papa?
(Unseen by the three of them, GEORGE comes walking up from stage left, with an armload of kindling wood. He stands a short distance off, hesitant, but with an innocent curiosity over what has brought the three family members together. Meanwhile, there is a brief, awkward silence, as JACOB studiously returns to repairing the harness, and SUSAN dithers between looking to her father for guidance, and the stern gaze of her mother.)
SUSAN: It’s..it’s nothing mama.
JACOB: She’s upset about George, mother.
(GEORGE, on hearing this, quietly sets down the wood he’s holding. Still unseen by the others, GEORGE draws slightly closer, his face suddenly anxious.)
SUSAN: Papa!
JACOB: It’s alright girl, I think your mother will understand.
MARY: Understand what? What’s George done?
JACOB: Calm yourself, Mary, ‘tis nothing at all.
SUSAN: Papa, no!
JACOB: Susan, your mother has a right to know what’s going on under her own roof.
(MARY is suddenly alarmed at hearing this.)
MARY: Jacob, what has George done? What has he done? My God, don’t tell me he…
(While all of this is going on, GEORGE has moved closer, intently listening, his face continually registering his changing emotions.)
JACOB: He hasn’t done anything wrong, mother, calm yourself. Susan’s just upset because George has been lookin’ at her while we’ve been settin’ down to dinner, that’s all.
MARY: How d’ya mean, Jacob? Lookin’ at her like what? Just exactly
Where has his eyes been roamin’, husband of mine?
JACOB: Nowhere, Mary. But, happens that I do have a notion, mother.
MARY: And what sort of notion could something like this give you? I swear if that half-wit has any filthy thoughts about…
SUSAN: (Rounds on her parents and shouts) Will you two stop talking like I’m not even here?
(Clearly astonished by her outburst, both JACOB and MARY turn to SUSAN with raised eyebrows.)
Mama, papa, George didn’t do anything, alright? He just…stares at me, like I’m some kind of exotic animal in a circus exhibit. He’s never laid a hand on me! And, in regards to any romantic notions, Andy and Arrow have more romance in them than George does. I don’t think he knows anything about making love. In fact, I doubt he’s even aware of what his…his…thing, is really for!
MARY: Susan!
JACOB: His thing? You mean his penis?
MARY: Jacob!
SUSAN: Papa!
JACOB: Maybe you should marry the boy, Susan.
SUSAN AND MARY: What?
(Shocked, GEORGE backpedals so fast, he almost trips over his pile of wood that he’d dropped.)
JACOB: Well the matter of fact is, Susan, you’re not getting any younger, your mother and I won’t be around forever. George may be slow, but he’s a hard worker and a God-fearin’ boy. You could do worse, ya’know. You can’t run this farm on your own.
SUSAN: Oh I can’t, can I? The widow Cole down the road manages just fine, with her two hired hands.
MARY: Yes, and all the village gossips wonder just where those hired hands have been roamin’, let me tell you. No, Jacob may have a point, Susan. Face facts girl, you’ve had thirty-nine years to find a beau, and you’re still an old maid. George may be an idiot, but then, what man isn’t?
JACOB: Come again?
MARY: Hush husband. And, if George is fond of you, what’s the harm? I mean, true, he’s not my vision of the ideal son-in-law, but, what with your head for facts and figures, and George’s strong, muscular back and his sinewy arms and….uh—uh, well, what I mean is, he knows the farm work, you know how to make a farm run smoothly and pay for itself.
JACOB: Mary’s right, Susan. Why girl, you were at the top of your class in the village school. And George knows the farm work inside and out. Just tell ‘em what needs doin’ and it’s as good as done. Life isn’t always plain to us, daughter. Sometimes the solution to our problems is hoverin’ just out of our vision, like dust motes in the sunlight, driftin’ ‘round our heads when we’re busy pitchin’ hay. Now that I think on it, I can see that you two might fight being hitched together, like two young horses in training, but I think soon you’d settle, and the farm would thrive with the pair of you workin’ together. It’d it be a practical match, if’n you were ta’ ask me.
GEORGE: But, what about me?
(All three of the family look up startled, only just now aware of GEORGE’S presence. SUSAN cringes and shelters behind MARY.)
Ja-Jacob, what about me? My mother told me once that marriage was about two people, lovin’ each other, and wanting to be together forever and ever. She said it was about helpin’ and carin’ for each other. Like that time you and I took care of Arrow, when he was sick. Remember that? You and I, we worked together for three whole days, and gave him his life back, and now he’s strong again, one of the best plow horses around. You and me, Jacob, the two of us together saved him ‘cause we cared, didn’t we? Didn’t we Jacob? You and me, we care about things.
MARY: Are you comparin’ my Susan to some plow horse?
JACOB: Not now, Mary. Just wait here and be quiet, the both of you. I want to go and have a word with the boy. (He stiffly gets up and limps over to GEORGE. The lights on that side of the stage go down, leaving the two women in shadow, while a dim spot shines on GEORGE.) Hello George, I didn’t see you there. Been there long, have you?
GEORGE: (Clearly distressed) Jacob, I don’t understand. I thought you were my fr-friend. Why are you doing this to me?
JACOB: Doing what to you? What do you mean, George? Don’t you like girls?
GEORGE: I-I, I dunno’, Jacob.
JACOB: You don’t know if you like girls?
(GEORGE merely shrugs and says nothing, looking away JACOB places a reassuring hand on GEORGE’S shoulder.)
What do you think will happen to this place when I’m gone? With no man in charge to do what needs to be done, why, I reckon this old farm will go to rot and ruin. And as for Susan, what d’ya think will happen to her? She’d just pine away the rest of her life, sewin’ and ironin’ and reading those dime novels of hers. She’d have no purpose in life. With a husband to look after, it’d give her something to live for, something to make her feel useful and needed. And Mary wouldn’t have to worry about losin’ the farm, with a son-in-law to pass things on to. So you see, I just want to do what’s best for us all, George. For you and Susan and Mary and me—and the farm, of course.
GEORGE: (Bewldered) But, what about me, Jacob. What about me?
JACOB: Why, you’d always have a home here, George, and you’d never have to worry about going hungry, or having a place to sleep, ever again. That’s a good thing, isn’t it? If you were to wed Susan, you’d be set for life.
GEORGE: (Suddenly looking searchingly, almost longingly at JACOB.) What about love?
JACOB: (Stepping away slightly) Ey?
GEORGE: Isn’t marriage supposed to be about love? It’s about two people, wantin’ to become one. Isn’t it, Jacob? That’s what mama always told me, an’ I believe her.
JACOB: Err—well, George…
GEORGE: Jacob, you seem so sad lately. How come?
JACOB: (Seemingly relieved at the sudden change of topic) Come here, George. (He pulls GEORGE a few feet further away from the two women, who have been intently listening to the men’s conversation.) It’s like this, George: I’m stuck.
GEORGE: (Looking around, confused.) Stuck to what, Jacob?
JACOB: Stuck to this life, George. To this little spot of New England soil, to this farm, to this family, to this (He clenches his fists bitterly) existence. I’m like that old ladder we just threw away. I've been scaling the ladder of life all these years, and now, I'm stuck. I've been up the creek, over the mountain, and down the outhouse hole, trying all my life to make a living out of this stony mountain soil. And, in many ways, I’ve not many regrets. In my lifetime, I've touched the stars, had my dreams dazzle my eyes, been blessed, at times, to have been lifted to those heights known as serenity and tranquility. But, my ladder is wobbly now Jacob, the rungs bent and broken. I cannot go up, because all those rungs that lead me to greater heights have been taken away. I can go down, of course--it's not far away at all, just a few steps, but at the bottom of those steps is the great stinking tarry morass of a living hell.
GEORGE: I—I don’t understand, Jacob. Do you mean you might lose the farm if I don’t marry Susan?
JACOB: (Smiling bitterly) I suppose you’ve hit the nail on the head, George. I want you to marry Susan, so that I can die knowing that all I’ve worked for these past sixty years hasn’t been for nothing.
GEORGE: But…I don’t love her.
JACOB: Love! Pah! D’ya think I love Mary? But, she’s been a good wife, always kept a good house and did what needed doin’, raised Susan well and made sure things ran smoothly. What more could any man ask for?
GEORGE: But…I don’t love Susan. I love you.
(There is a long silence as what GEORGE has said, sinks in)
