 | The poet, the fool and the faeries |  |
195
THE WOMAN ON THE ROAD
- A Woman, with a Child in her arms
- A Little Boy
- A Man
Persons:
The Man
(overtaking the Woman, who looks worn and tired):
That's a good load now for a weary woman!
The babe's enough, but the big bag beside!—
It is too much.
The Woman
(wearily, looking at him and speaking with impatience):
What would you have me do, man?—
They who have money can afford to ride.
It seems to me I am no longer human.—
What time is it?
The Man
(with a kindly smile):
Not long till eventide.—
Your boy looks worn out, too.
The Woman
(fiercely, addressing, as it were, the malign cause of it all):
No wonder! Walking
Since seven to-day, and little rest between,
And less of food. But I'm too tired for talking.
196
(softly):
That you are tired is easy to be seen.
The Woman
(somewhat mollified and setting down bundle):
But what one don't see is the heavy aching
Here. (Laying hand on heart.)
While I walk it does n't bother so.
The rocking keeps the baby too from waking.
Perhaps you are a father, and you know.
The Man
(quietly smiling):
I wish I knew.—Your children are quite taking. ...
And where's their father?
The Woman
(dejectedly):
Dead a year ago.
Killed by a train—a freight, where he was braking.
The Man
(quickly):
And did n't the railroad pay?—
The Woman
(indignantly):
Pay?—Carelessness
They proved it was. And all our savings went.
And then—and then—the baby came.
The Man
(sympathizingly):
I guess
What followed:—hunger.— (Indignantly):
They not mulct a cent!
197
(wearily):
We've walked and begged our way for many a mile.
It's Shepherdstown that we are walking to.
My husband's folks are there.
The Man
(musingly):
'T will take a while.—
At least till midnight. (With decision):
It would never do.
You can not walk it with that tired boy.—
How old is he? A sturdy lad.
The Woman:
Just six.
The Man
(ingratiatingly):
Come here, young man. What have you there? A toy?
Child:
No, sir: a torch,—just berries stuck on sticks,—
To light the way with.—Have you any cakes?
I'm hungry, Mister. (Smiling up wistfully at the Man.)
The Man
(with decision, turning to the Woman):
Give the babe to me,
And rest you here.
198
(as the baby wakes, seating herself and beginning to nurse it):
How my poor body aches!
So Shepherdstown is miles away?
The Man
(vaguely):
May be.—
My farm is close. You'll stop there for awhile,
Till I search out the people you would know
At Shepherdstown. (Suddenly)
: Your boy now has the smile
Of someone that I know, or knew. But, no,
Impossible.
The Woman
(impressively):
He has his father's eyes.
His father came from Shepherdstown, you see.
The Man
(intently):
And may I ask his name?
The Woman:
His name was Wise—
Jim Wise.—Perhaps you know his family?
You live so near to Shepherdstown.
The Man
(with emotion):
Why, yes.
I know his family. Why, Jim, now,—Jim—
199
You're speaking of.—Years since we heard of him.
The Woman
(incredulously):
Where do you live, sir?
The Man
(dreamily):
Not so far from here:
Beyond this strip of wood.—You see, I farm.
Jim never did like farming. It was queer.
The City swallowed him. He came to harm,
So I have heard, through women.
The Woman
(vehemently, starting to her feet):
It's a lie!—
Here is the only woman whom he knew,
And here the children you may know her by.
The Man:
I meant no insult. Why, I know how true
A woman you are. You must have helped my brother.—
We heard he'd married, that was all.—Well, well.
And you're his widow?—This is news for mother.
The Boy
(who has been looking wide-eyed at the Man during all this talk):
It's suppertime. It's nearly time to start.
200
(laughing and hugging the boy close up to him):
Why, so it is. And there's a lot to tell
To your old Granny.—Seems incredible.—
Look at me, boy. Why, you're Jim's counterpart.
The Boy
(looking earnestly at the Man):
What is a counterpart?—Where people eat?—
And will 't be cake? or something like a tart?—
The Man
(with decision in his manner and voice):
Yes, it'll be cake.—Now hurry.—Come this way.
But I must carry you. Your little feet
Have earned a ride. (Mounting boy on his back):
There!
The Woman
(smiling wanly):
You're Jim's brother Ray.
The Man
(nodding over his shoulder):
How did you guess?
The Woman:
Just by the way you treat
My little boy and me. One need not say.—
Often I've heard Jim tell of you.
201
(pointing):
But look!
There is your home now; by the roadside there,
Among the flowers, beyond this cressy brook.
The Woman:
How honeysuckle-sweet! And what a bed
Of Giant-of-Battle roses!—Everywhere
Are flowers!—Just as Jim has often said.
He loved to picture it. ... All those iron years
The memory of this place kept soft his heart.
He was a good man—Jim.
The Man:
Don't cry now. Tears
Are done with. This is home. You've done your part
By Jim, and now we'll do our part by you.
The Woman
(drying her eyes):
It seems to me too beautiful to be true.
It is a dream I'll wake from.
The Man
(smiling at her):
Not this week
Nor many a week to come.—There's mother, see!
Look where she waits now in that sunset streak
Beside the gate, gray in the shrubbery.
202
What a kind face she has; it breathes of rest.
But we've no right here.
The Man:
That's no way to speak!
Our home is your home.—Don't look so distressed.
You are Jim's widow.—Mother'll daughter you.—
And there're your children!—Don't, or won't you see
You're giving more than you receive?—I do.—
Now let's meet mother.—Leave it all to me.
| The poet, the fool and the faeries | |