By Felicia Metcalfe - greenroompress.com room press, inc. p.o. box 248 • cedar rapids, iowa 52406 toll free (888) 350-5005 • fax (319) 368-8011 grandad steps out by felicia metcalfe

Grandad Steps OutBy Felicia Metcalfe

greenroompress.com

GREEN ROOM PRESS, INC. P.O. BOX 248 • CEDAR RAPIDS, IOWA 52406 TOLL FREE (888) 350-5005 • FAX (319) 368-8011

GRANDAD STEPS OUT B y F e l i c i a M e t c a l f e

Copyright © MCMXLIV Renewed MCMLXXI by Felicia Metcalfe, All rights reserved.

CAUTION: Professionals and amateurs are hereby warned that this Work is subject to a royalty. This Work is fully protected under the copyright laws of the United States of America and all countries with which the United States has reciprocal copyright relations, whether through bilateral or multilateral treaties or otherwise, and including, but not limited to, all countries covered by the Pan-American Copyright Convention, the Universal Copyright Convention and the Berne Convention.

RIGHTS RESERVED: All rights to this Work are strictly reserved, including professional and amateur stage performance rights. Also reserved are: motion picture, recitation, lecturing, public reading, radio broadcasting, television, video or sound recording, all forms of mechanical or electronic reproduction, such as CD-ROM, CD-I, DVD, information and storage retrieval systems and photocopying, and the rights of translation into non-English languages.

PERFORMANCE RIGHTS AND ROYALTY PAYMENTS: All amateur and stock performance rights to this Work are controlled exclusively by Green Room Press, INC. No amateur or stock production groups or individuals may perform this play without securing license and royalty arrangements in advance from Green Room Press, INC. Questions concerning other rights should be addressed to Green Room Press, INC. Royalty fees are subject to change without notice. Professional and stock fees will be set upon application in accordance with your producing circumstances. Any licensing requests and inquiries relating to amateur and stock (professional) performance rights should be addressed to Green Room Press, INC..

Royalty of the required amount must be paid, whether the play is presented for charity or profit and whether or not admission is charged.

AUTHOR CREDIT: All groups or individuals receiving permission to produce this play must give the author(s) credit in any and all advertisement and publicity relating to the production of this play. The author’s billing must appear directly below the title on a separate line where no other written matter appears. The name of the author(s) must be at least 50% as large as the title of the play. No person or entity may receive larger or more prominent credit than that which is given to the author(s).

PUBLISHER CREDIT: Whenever this play is produced, all programs, advertisements, flyers or other printed material must include the following notice: Produced by special arrangement with Green Room Press, INC.

COPYING: Any unauthorized copying of this Work or excerpts from this Work is strictly forbidden by law. No part of this Work may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form, by any means now known or yet to be invented, including photocopying or scanning, without prior permission from Green Room Press, INC.

2 GRANDAD STEPS OUT

GRANDAD STEPS OUT

B y F e l i c i a M e t c a l f e SYNOPSIS: Mrs. Laura Morton considers her father frail, feeble and very fragile. When Jim Mahoney, one of Grandpa's old friends, plans a dinner party for all of their old buddies, they devise a plan to get Grandpa out of the house without upsetting Laura...they decide not to tell her. Unfortunately, all of Grandpa's clothes are in storage so they steal some of his grandson’s clothes and sneak out of the house. A nosy old maid across the street sees them and calls Laura, who scoffs at the idea, saying her father is asleep on the couch. When Laura discovers her housekeeper cuddled up on the couch, she calls the police and assumes Grandpa is either lost or worse yet, kidnapped. While the detective, a regular “human bloodhound,” and the family are out looking for Grandpa, Jim and Grandpa slip into the house with mysterious bandages wrapped around their heads and lots of explaining to do.

CAST OF CHARACTERS (5 males, 8 females, 3 extras)

MRS. LAURA MORTON (f) ....................... A pleasant looking woman of

about forty. She wears simple house dresses. (237 lines)

GRANDAD (m) ............................................ About sixty. He has been a semi-invalid for a year. He has white hair and a white goatee. He wears striped cotton pajamas. (207 lines)

TILLY (f) ...................................................... A green country housekeeper who walks with a funny gait and talks out of first one corner of her mouth and then the other. (63 lines)

FELICIA METCALFE 3

BETTY SHADDUCK (f) .............................. An attractive girl of about nineteen. Wears a casual outfit in Act One and a fancy dress in Act Two and Act Three. (149 lines)

KIP SHADDUCK (m) .................................. Betty’s fourteen year old brother. (177 lines)

NORWOOD TRIPLETS: Fourteen years old. The girls comb their hair the same and wear similar dresses and shoes. TRUDIE (f) ............................................. (48 lines) JUDY (f) .................................................. (29 lines) LUDIE (f) ................................................ (33 lines) JACK NORWOOD (m) ................................ The triplets’ brother, about

twenty years old. (56 lines) JIM MAHONEY (m) .................................... A tall, heavyset man, about

sixty. He wears a broad-brimmed felt hat, a red bandana around his neck, a checkered shirt, leather boots, and leather belt. (111 lines)

MISS ABBY HIGGINS (f) ........................... A coy old maid, about fifty. She is man-crazy. Frizzes her hair and acts coquettish. Wears a dress down to her ankles. (56 lines)

MRS. JOBE FEENEY (f) ............................. A tall, heavyset country woman, about fifty. She is belligerent in manner. Wears a ridiculous looking hat along with a country dress and shoes. (18 lines)

OFFICER (m) ............................................... Thinks he knows it all, but doesn’t. (34 lines)

3 EXTRAS (m) ............................................. Three extra non-speaking men may be used, but are not necessary.

This perusal script is for reading purposes only.No performance or photocopy rights are conveyed.

4 GRANDAD STEPS OUT

PROPS

BLANKET

THREE CANS OF SOUP

PLATE OF CAKE

BOWL, SPOON, AND THREE CRACKERS ON A TRAY

WHITE NAPKIN

TELEGRAM

THREE SUITCASES

OVERNIGHT BAG

CANE

POT OF COFFEE

TWO CLEAN SHEETS

PLATE OF COOKIES

WHEEL CHAIR (OPTIONAL)

POLICEMAN’S BADGE

RED BANDANA HANDKERCHIEF

POCKET KNIFE

BOTTLE OPENER

HAMMER

HATCHET

BOX OF TACKS

SEVERAL MAGAZINES

SMALL BOOK FOR TELEGRAPH MESSENGER

COPY OF “SATURDAY EVENING POST” OR “COLLIERS”

KNITTING AND BAG

“BLOODY” BANDAGES (USE KETCHUP)

GLASS AND SPOON

ADHESIVE TAPE

UMBRELLA

NIGHT SHIRT

COIN PURSE AND SMALL CHANGE

STAGE MONEY SOUND EFFECTS: Telephone ringing.


FELICIA METCALFE 5

SYNOPSIS OF SCENES ACT ONE: Eleven o’clock in the morning. ACT TWO: Six o’clock in the evening, the same day. ACT THREE: About two hours later.

SET

The living room of Mrs. Laura Morton’s home, 1940’s. Same for all three acts, no change of scenery required.

Easy chair

Occasional chair

Telephone and stand

Desk and chair

Wall mirror

Large floor rug

Pictures on the wall

Sofa

Footstool

Two sofa pillows

Rugs, pictures, lamps, etc.

Small screen (or high-backed chair)


6 GRANDAD STEPS OUT

ACT ONE SETTING: The living room in MRS. LAURA MORTON’S home. It is a homey-looking room with simple but comfortable furnishings. There is a door leading to the front porch, stage left. A desk and chair are upstage left. There is an arch upstage center that leads to the bedrooms and bath. There is a small table, easy chair, and a screen behind the easy chair stage left of the arch. Stage right, a door leads into the dining room and kitchen. Up right there is a long sofa. A telephone is on a stand down left. Rugs, pictures, etc. decorate the room. AT RISE: The stage is vacant. TILLY, Morton’s housekeeper, enters from the back of the house, stage right, and crosses left to the front door. She’s a comical looking girl who walks awkwardly with the rolling gait of a sailor on land. She opens the door and takes a telegram from a Messenger. MESSENGER: (He doesn’t need to appear on stage.) Here’s a

telegram. Sign here. TILLY: (Stupidly.) Sign what? MESSENGER: Sign your name. TILLY: (Talking out of one corner of her mouth and then the other.)

No, sir. I don’t put my name to nothin’! My daddy told me not to, and I ain’t. (She looks at the telegram curiously.)

MESSENGER: Give this to Mrs. Morton. And here’s the book. TILLY: All right. Gimme that book. She can sign it if she wants ter,

but I ain’t. MRS. MORTON appears at the arch, upstage center. She is a middle-aged woman dressed in a neat cotton print dress. Her hair is arranged rather plainly. She is a pleasant looking woman. MRS. MORTON: What is it, Tilly? TILLY: Somebody done sent you a letter. Here it is. MRS. MORTON: (Coming downstage.) That’s not a letter. It’s a

telegram.


FELICIA METCALFE 7

TILLY: (Handing her a book to sign.) Here’s a book he wants you to sign. I guess it’s his memory book.

MRS. MORTON: Tell him to wait. TILLY: (Goes back to the door, cups her hand around her mouth.

Loudly.) She said “wait!” MRS. MORTON goes to a desk or table, gets a pen and signs. MRS. MORTON: (Holding out the book.) Here. Give this to him. I

hope I signed in the right place. I’ve misplaced my glasses. TILLY gives him the book and returns immediately. MRS. MORTON: (Opens the telegram.) What does it say? Read it

to me. I don’t have my glasses. (She hands it to TILLY.) TILLY: (Looking at it with a puzzled expression.) It don’t say nothing. MRS. MORTON: It must. Aren’t there any words on it? TILLY: Yes, but it don’t make no sense. MRS. MORTON: (Irritably.) Read it out loud! TILLY: (Very slowly and laboriously.) “Betty and Kip started stop.

Arrive today stop. Eleven-thirty stop. Cora.” You see it don’t make no sense. They keep a-stoppin’ every time they start.

MRS. MORTON: Oh! I understand. It’s from my sister Cora. Her son and daughter are coming to visit us. They should be here any minute now. Go get your broom and sweep over there by the door. Somebody’s tracked in some dirt.

TILLY: Yes, ma’am. (She exits right.) From offstage, GRANDAD pounds his cane on the floor. MRS. MORTON: (Calling.) Yes, Father. I’m coming! MRS. MORTON exits through the arch as TILLY enters right with the broom, walking with her usual slow lope. She begins sweeping near the front door. The phone rings and TILLY picks up the receiver and holds it about a foot from her ear as if she’s afraid of it.


8 GRANDAD STEPS OUT

TILLY: (Very loudly.) Hello! Hello! Hello!—Ma’am?—Yes, Ma’am—I’ll call her. (She goes to the upstage center door and calls.) Mis’ Morton, somebody wants ye on the phone.

MRS. MORTON: (Offstage.) Who is it? TILLY: It’s that lady across the street who’s done called you half a

dozen times this morning. MRS. MORTON: (Enters frowning.) Miss Abby Higgins again! As

busy as I am. (She goes to the phone.) Hello—Yes, Miss Abby—No, Miss Abby—Yes, Miss Abby—It was just a telegram messenger—It was a message from my sister—Yes, they’re coming this morning—Yes on the 11:30 train—goodbye! (She hangs up with a bang.) Tilly, Father wants to come in here. Please put the stool in front of the easy chair. (MRS. MORTON exits through the arch.)

TILLY: (As MRS. MORTON exits.) Yes, ma’am. (She gets the stool from in front of the sofa and places it in front of the easy chair, moving the chair out from the wall a bit.)

MRS. MORTON reenters through the arch with an old man about sixty years old. If a wheel chair is available, she rolls him in. If not, she holds one of his arms and leads him in. He has a cane in his hand. He’s a sharp-faced, wizened little man with white chin whiskers which he moves up and down like a goat. He talks in a high quavering voice. He has on striped cotton pajamas or bath robe over trousers. She places him in the easy chair facing the audience, and puts his feet on a stool, gets a sofa pillow from the sofa and puts it behind his head. MRS. MORTON: How’s that? Nice and soft, isn’t it? GRANDAD: (Grumbling.) Feels like it’s full o’ rocks. MRS. MORTON: It’s filled with fresh feathers. GRANDAD: Must o’ been Plymouth Rocks. Take it away. I’m not a

sissy. I don’t want a pillow. (He throws it down.) MRS. MORTON: (Sighing.) Well, I’ve got to go to the kitchen now

and fix your soup. GRANDAD: (Exploding.) Soup! Soup! I’ve eaten enough to fill the

Pacific Ocean with enough left over to fill Lake Michigan. I don’t want to see another drop of it.


FELICIA METCALFE 9

MRS. MORTON: (Comfortingly.) But that’s all you can digest with your stomach.

GRANDAD: (Shouting.) Where else could I digest it but in my stomach?

MRS. MORTON: But, Father, you must remember your ulcers. GRANDAD: (Ranting.) Remember’em? How could I forget’em

That’s all I hear “Remember your ulcers.” It’s got to be as common as “Remember the Alamo.”

MRS. MORTON: You’ve got to humor ulcers. GRANDAD: I’ve humored’em all right. They come before anything

else in my life. Say, what are you gonna eat for your lunch? MRS. MORTON: (Reluctantly.) Oh I don’t know exactly. GRANDAD: (With a martyr-like tone.) Go on and tell me. MRS. MORTON: Well—roast beef—baked beans—creamed

potatoes—apple pie and cheese. He groans louder and louder at every item. GRANDAD: (Corners of his mouth drooping.) If I could just have one

little morsel of roast beef. MRS. MORTON: (Firmly.) Well, you can’t have it, so stop torturing

yourself by thinking about it. GRANDAD: (Dreamily.) I dreamed last night I ate a big thick steak

covered with onions and a dish of french fried potatoes. MRS. MORTON: And I guess you woke up with indigestion. GRANDAD: (Exploding.) No, I didn’t! I woke up feeling like I’d been

to heaven. MRS. MORTON: (Goes to the sofa and gets a blanket.) It’s a little

cool this morning so I’ll spread this over your knees. GRANDAD: (Waving his cane.) I’m hot. I don’t want that blanket. MRS. MORTON: You’ll take your death of cold sitting here without

anything over you. GRANDAD blubbers his lips like a horse and sulks. MRS. MORTON: Now I have to go to the kitchen. Just call if you

want anything, dear. (She starts right.) Come, Tilly.


10 GRANDAD STEPS OUT

They go out right. GRANDAD wiggles and twists. He starts to throw the blanket off but thinks he hears MRS. MORTON coming and pulls it up again. Knock at front door left. GRANDAD: (In a high shaky voice.) Come in! A pretty young girl of fourteen enters. She has on a checked gingham or a pinafore, and a ribbon bow of the same color in her hair. TRUDIE: Good morning! GRANDAD: (With a sour look.) Don’t wish me a good morning. TRUDIE: (Surprised.) Why not? GRANDAD: I haven’t had one in so long I wouldn’t know what it was

like. TRUDIE: (Curiously.) Are you sick? GRANDAD: Sick? I’ve been sick a year. I don’t get any better and I

don’t get any worse. TRUDIE: What’s the matter? GRANDAD: I’ve got a catch in my back, a crick in my neck, a pain in

my knee and stomach ulcers. TRUDIE: (Awe-struck.) And you’re still alive? GRANDAD: (Unhappily.) Sometimes I’m not so sure. TRUDIE: (Crossing to sit on sofa.) Have your grandchildren arrived

yet? GRANDAD: No, they’ll be here in a little while. TRUDIE: Who’s going to the train to meet them? GRANDAD: (Sourly.) They’ll get a taxi like they always do. TRUDIE: I can’t wait to meet them. Is Mrs. Morton here? GRANDAD: Yes. I’ll call her. (He beats on the floor with his cane.) MRS. MORTON: (Entering with three cans of soup.) Good morning. TRUDIE: (Rising.) Good morning. I’m Trudie Norwood and Mother

sent me over here to ask a little favor, if you don’t mind. MRS. MORTON: Certainly. Anything at all. TRUDIE: Well, I’ve got to help Mother get things straightened up in

the house. She wants to borrow a hammer for a little while if you have one.

MRS. MORTON: Of course. Go in the kitchen and ask the maid to get it for you.


FELICIA METCALFE 11

TRUDIE: Thanks. (TRUDIE exits right.) MRS. MORTON: (Holds up the cans of soup.) Here are some cans

of nice soup. Tell me what kind you want. This one is chicken noodle—and this one is mock-turtle.

GRANDAD groans louder and louder at each one she names. MRS. MORTON: And here’s a new kind. Alphabet soup. GRANDAD: (Exploding.) Alphabet soup? I already know the

alphabet. If I didn’t, I wouldn’t want to learn anyway. MRS. MORTON: (With finality.) You’ve got to have something to eat,

so go on and choose. GRANDAD: All right. I’ll shut my eyes and point to one. I’ll take that

one. (He points.) MRS. MORTON: You pointed to the alphabet soup. I’ll go fix it for

you. (She starts right.) GRANDAD: (Plaintively.) Laura, couldn’t I have a little bitsy piece of

butter in it? MRS. MORTON: (Stopping and turning.) Absolutely not. The doctor

said you were not to have anything greasy, and I’m not going against his orders.

GRANDAD: (Hopefully.) Couldn’t I have just a little taste of apple pie and cheese?

MRS. MORTON: Do you want to kill yourself? GRANDAD: (Shrugging.) Well, it would be a mighty pleasant way to

die. TRUDIE: (Enters right. Holds up the hammer.) She gave it to me. MRS. MORTON: Fine. TRUDIE: I’ll bring it back just as soon as we get the curtains hung.

(She crosses left.) MRS. MORTON: That’ll be fine. TRUDIE: Thanks. (She exits left.) MRS. MORTON: (Going right.) I’ll be back with your soup in a few

minutes. GRANDAD: (Sourly, as she goes.) You needn’t hurry. She goes out. He knocks with his cane. TILLY appears right.



GRANDAD: (Demandingly.) Bring me a glass of water. My throat feels as dry as a camel’s—and twice as long.

TILLY: Yes sir. (She goes out right. He squirms and twists and waves the blanket in the air. TILLY enters with a glass of water on a tray. Talking out of one corner of her mouth and then the other.) Here’s your glass of water, Mr. Ike.

GRANDAD: Mr. Ike? That’s not my name. TILLY: That’s what Mis’ Morton said it was. GRANDAD: It’s Eichelburger. TILLY: (Eyes bulging out.) Sir? GRANDAD: I’ll spell it for you. E-I-C-H-E-L-B-U-R-G-E-R. TILLY: (Mouth opens.) You’ve got the entire alphabet covered. GRANDAD: (Angrily.) Give me that water. TILLY: Yes, sir. She starts to hand it to him and trips over the stool and upsets the water on the blanket. GRANDAD: (Shouting.) Look at ye! TILLY: How’m I gonna look at myself? GRANDAD: (Shaking the cane at her.) It don’t do me no good to

look at you, so get out. TILLY: Don’t you want no water? GRANDAD: Not in my lap! TILLY: (Taking the blanket.) I’d better hang that blanket up. It’s wet. GRANDAD: (Starting to smile.) That’s more like it! Here’s a nickel

for you. (He reaches in his shoe and gets out a small coin purse and extracts a nickel.)

TILLY: A nickel? What fer? I ain’t did nothin’ ter git a nickel. GRANDAD: That’s all right. Go hang that blanket up. (TILLY takes

the blanket out through the arch. The phone rings. GRANDAD beats the floor with his cane.) Somebody come answer the phone!

TILLY: (Comes back and answers the telephone.) Hello—Yes, ma’am, I’ll call her. (She goes to door right and calls for MRS. MORTON.)

MRS. MORTON: (Appears.) Who wants me? TILLY: That same lady.


FELICIA METCALFE 13

MRS. MORTON: Miss Abby? Oh, goodness! (She goes to the phone, speaking crossly.) Hello—Yes, Miss Abby—No, Miss Abby—That was Trudie Norwood—they are some new people who moved into the house next door this morning—She wanted to borrow a hammer—Goodbye! (She slams down the receiver and turns to look at GRANDAD.) Father! Where’s your blanket?

GRANDAD: (Shouting.) It’s gone! Where did you think it was! If you must know, I spilled some water on it!

MRS. MORTON: Well, I declare. I’ve sent all the other blankets to the laundry to be stored for the summer. I hope you don’t take pneumonia. Well, I’ve got to go fix lunch. Come Tilly.

They exit right. Knock at front door. GRANDAD: Come in. JUDY Norwood comes in. She’s one of the triplets. She has on a dress just like TRUDIE’s. Her hair is arranged like hers and she also has a bow of ribbon in her hair. JUDY: Good morning. (GRANDAD looks at her suspiciously, but

says nothing.) How are you feeling? GRANDAD: There haven’t been any changes in the last five minutes

so far as I can see. The fact is, there hasn’t been any for the last year.

JUDY: That’s too bad. What’s your trouble? GRANDAD: (Astonished.) What say? JUDY: What’s the matter with you? GRANDAD: The same ailments I had five minutes ago. JUDY: (Not understanding.) Where is Mrs. Morton? May I see her? GRANDAD: I’ll call her. (He beats with his cane. MRS. MORTON

enters right.) JUDY: (Crossing to center.) Mother was wondering if we could

borrow a few tacks? MRS. MORTON: Yes, I think so. Go in the kitchen and ask the maid

to get a box for you. JUDY: Thanks. (She goes out right.) MRS. MORTON: Father, I forgot to ask you if you wanted your

crackers plain or toasted?



GRANDAD: (Making a wry face.) Crackers? Do I have to have crackers?

MRS. MORTON: Why, certainly. GRANDAD: (Grumbling.) I’ve eaten enough crackers to build the

Washington Monument. Can’t I have a few crumbs of bread instead?

MRS. MORTON: (Firmly.) No. The doctor said “crackers” and I have to do what he said. Do you want them toasted for a change?

GRANDAD: Change? If you’ve been livin’ on crackers a solid year, what change would it be?

MRS. MORTON: (Unbending.) Make up your mind—plain or toasted?

GRANDAD: I’ll take’em plain. I can wash’em down faster that way. JUDY: (Enters right.) I got the tacks. Thank you so much. MRS. MORTON: You’re quite welcome. (JUDY exits left.) Phone rings. MRS. MORTON answers. MRS. MORTON: (With great impatience.) Hello—Yes, Miss Abby—

one of the Norwood girls—She wanted to borrow some tacks—Well, goodbye. (She slams the receiver down and crosses right hurriedly.) Grandad will never get lunch if this keeps up.

GRANDAD: (Slyly.) That’d be just fine with me. MRS. MORTON exits right. Knock is heard at door left. GRANDAD: Come in. LUDIE Norwood enters. She is dressed like the other two. LUDIE: (Brightly.) Good morning. GRANDAD: (Crabbily.) It’s the same morning and it’s not good. LUDIE: How are you feeling? GRANDAD: (Raving.) Just like I did five minutes ago. No better, no

worse. LUDIE: What’s your trouble? GRANDAD: You should know my ailments by heart now. LUDIE: (Frowning.) I don’t understand.


FELICIA METCALFE 15

GRANDAD: (Impatiently.) Well, I’ll tell you again. I’ve got a catch in my back, a crick in my neck, a pain in my knee and stomach ulcers.

LUDIE: (Unimpressed.) That’s too bad. Where is Mrs. Morton? May I speak to her?

GRANDAD: She’s still in the kitchen. LUDIE: Mother wants to borrow a hatchet. GRANDAD: (Shouting.) Go ask her for it! LUDIE: (Crossing right.) Thank you. LUDIE goes out right, almost running into TILLY, who enters right, and pulls up a small table by GRANDAD’s chair to hold his tray. Ties a napkin around his neck. GRANDAD: (Raving.) Why don’t you put me in a high chair and be

done with it? TILLY exits right. Knock is heard at door. GRANDAD: Come in! (TRUDIE enters. GRANDAD’s eyes bulge.)

Didn’t you just go into the kitchen a minute ago? TRUDIE: No, sir. GRANDAD: Then I must be losing my mind. Oh! Mercy! Oh,

mercy! (He leans back in his chair.) TRUDIE: I want to borrow some matches if I may. GRANDAD: (Points off right weakly.) Go in there. TRUDIE exits right. Knock at door. GRANDAD: (Weakly.) Come in. JUDY enters. GRANDAD sits up straight and looks frightened. GRANDAD: (As though frightened.) Laura! Laura! He begins beating on the floor with his cane. MRS. MORTON rushes in.



MRS. MORTON: (Excitedly.) What’s the matter? GRANDAD: (Moaning.) Somethin’ awful’s happened to me. MRS. MORTON: (Rushing to him.) What is it? GRANDAD: (Hand to head.) I’ve gone out o’ my mind. Call the

lunatic asylum and tell’em to come and get me. Oh-h-h-h! MRS. MORTON: (Feeling his brow.) Why, Father! What in the

world? GRANDAD: (Weekly.) Every time I look up I see that same girl a

comin’ in the front door. MRS. MORTON: (Smiling, relieved.) It’s not the same girl . They’re

triplets. GRANDAD: (Puzzled.) You mean there’s three of ‘em? MRS. MORTON: Yes. Here come the other two. They enter right. GRANDAD: (Mouth dropping open.) Well! I never saw the beat of it.

How do you know which one is yourself? TRUDIE: (Curtsying.) I’m Trudie. JUDY: (Curtsying.) I’m Judy. LUDIE: (Curtsying.) I’m Ludie. GRANDAD: (Seriously.) Did your folks get ye any cheaper orderin’

ye wholesale? They laugh. TRUDIE: Mrs. Morton, Mother wants to know if she can borrow one

more thing? MRS. MORTON: What is it? TRUDIE: Do you have the last Ladies’ Home Journal and the

Women’s Home Companion? MRS. MORTON: Yes. TRUDIE: She wants to get some ideas about hanging the window

draperies. MRS. MORTON: Here they are. (She gets several copies of

magazines and hands them to TRUDIE.) TRUDIE: Thank you Mrs. Morton. Hopefully, we won’t have to

bother you again.


FELICIA METCALFE 17

They go out left. TILLY enters with soup and crackers on a tray. MRS. MORTON: Put it on the table, Tilly, and I’ll feed him. (TILLY

does this, then she exits through the arch.) Father, I’ve added an extra treat today since you’re so hungry.

GRANDAD: (Sits up and looks eager.) What is it? MRS. MORTON: An extra cracker. You may have three today. (He

groans.) Now open your mouth and take this spoonful of nice alphabet soup. (He shakes his head. Trying to interest him.) Let’s see what letters you got this time— (She looks at the spoon.) C-A-T-

GRANDAD: (Angrily.) Take it away. I’ll eat chicken soup and turtle soup, but I’m not gonna eat cat soup. (He pushes her hand away.)

MRS. MORTON: (Gently.) Now, Father, you must eat something. You can’t starve.

GRANDAD: If it comes to eatin’ soup or starve, I’ll take starving. It’ll take less will-power.

TILLY: (Rushes in.) They’s one o’ them taxi cars a-stopping’ out in front.

MRS. MORTON: (Jumping up.) It’s the children. Tilly, run help them bring in their bags. (She puts the tray up.)

TILLY starts running and hits her shin on a chair. MRS. MORTON: Watch where you’re going. TILLY: I was going too fast to watch. (She rubs her shin and limps

out left.) GRANDAD: (Angrily.) She’s the silliest, awkwardest excuse for a girl

I ever saw. KIP and BETTY enter. He is carrying a leather suitcase. BETTY has a weekend bag. TILLY has two long suitcases which keep knocking against her shins fore and aft. She planks them down on the floor. KIP is a regular boy of about fourteen, BETTY is a pretty, attractive girl of about nineteen dressed in a spring coat suit, a pretty blouse and fashionable hat. They rush to MRS. MORTON and greet her,



then BETTY runs to GRANDAD and kisses him on the forehead. KIP shakes his hand. BETTY: (Full of pep.) Hello, Grandad, you don’t know how glad I am

to see you! KIP: Sure is good to get back, Grandad. GRANDAD: (Rubbing his forehead where BETTY kisses him. To

BETTY.) Humph, you done got real pretty. Where are all those freckles you used to couldn’t see your face for?

BETTY: (Laughing.) Oh, they finally faded away. GRANDAD: (To KIP.) You been a-growin’ over time, haven’t ye? KIP: Yes sir. A good deal since I was here last. MRS. MORTON: Are you tired from the trip? BETTY: No, not very. MRS. MORTON: Suppose you take your bags to your rooms. The

same rooms you’ve always had. Kip, I know you’re hungry. We’ll soon have lunch ready.

KIP: (Rubbing his stomach.) Good! I feel like I haven’t had a square meal in a year.

GRANDAD: (Rubbing his stomach.) I feel like I haven’t had one in fifty years.

They go out upstage center through the arch. TILLY follows with the two suitcases. Phone rings. MRS. MORTON: (Crossly.) Hello—Yes, they came—I’ll tell ‘em to

come over and meet you after lunch—Goodbye. (She slams the receiver down. Crossing right.) I’ve a good mine to have that thing taken out.

GRANDAD: I wish you’d keep the kitchen door closed. MRS. MORTON: (Turning.) Why? GRANDAD: (Hungrily.) I keep smellin’ that roast beef cookin’. MRS. MORTON: Don’t you want to go to your room and take a little

nap? GRANDAD: Nap! I’ve already beat Rip Van Winkle’s record now. I

want to sit here and see what goes on. BETTY enters through the arch.


FELICIA METCALFE 19

MRS. MORTON: Make yourself at home, Betty. I have a new

housekeeper and I have to help her. BETTY: Want me to help? MRS. MORTON: No. I’d rather you stay in here with your

grandfather and answer the phone, if you will. If Miss Abby Higgins calls, please get rid of her by some hook or crook. I haven’t time to talk to her.

BETTY: (Laughing.) I’ll try. MRS. MORTON: And if any agents come, get rid of them too. The

town’s been infested with them lately. BETTY: All right. (MRS. MORTON exits right. BETTY gets a

magazine and sits down to read. Phone rings. BETTY answers.) Hello—Betty Shadduck talking—No, I didn’t say you’d “better shut up.” I said Betty Shadduck—What’s this number?—I don’t know. I’ve never called it—Sorry. (She hangs up and gets her magazine again.)

Knock at door left. BETTY goes to the door. An attractive young man of about twenty comes in. He has several magazines under his arm. JACK: (Smiling.) Good morning. I have some magazines here and

I— BETTY: (Brusquely.) We don’t want any magazines. We already

take more than we have time to read. JACK: But this Ladies Home Journal— (He tries to show it to her.) BETTY: (Firmly.) I tell you we do not want it. JACK: And this Woman’s Home Companion— BETTY: We already take both of them. I think you’d better leave.

We have illness in the house— (She points to GRANDAD.) I don’t think it’s contagious, but you never can tell, so I’ll say good morning. (She takes hold of the doorknob.)

JACK: (Laughing.) But really—if you’d only let me tell you— BETTY: (Angrily.) I told you we have sickness here. You don’t want

to run any risk, do you? JACK: Why not? BETTY: You surely don’t want to take anything, do you?



JACK: (Grinning at her.) I wouldn’t mind taking a little of your time. BETTY: Well, take your magazines and go! GRANDAD falls asleep. JACK: (Shaking his head.) They are not my magazines. BETTY: Whose are they? JACK: Mrs. Morton’s. My sister borrowed them a while ago and I

was bringing them back. BETTY: (Surprised.) You mean you are not a magazine agent? JACK: (Smiling.) Well, hardly. BETTY: (Not sure of him,) And you are not trying to work your way

through college selling magazines? JACK: (Laughing.) If I had to get an education peddling magazines

I’m afraid I’d never learn to read and write. BETTY: Who are you anyway? JACK: (Explaining.) I’m your new neighbor. Jack Norwood. BETTY: (Taken aback.) Oh! JACK: I’m just a bit curious as to who you are. BETTY: (Apologetically.) I’m Betty Shadduck, Mrs. Morton’s niece.

I’m sorry I was so rude. JACK: How about a truce? (He puts his hand out.) BETTY: Sure! (He takes her hand and looks at her admiringly.) JACK: Do you promise not to try to shove me out again? BETTY: Of course. They stand looking at each other. GRANDAD gives a big snore and they jump. JACK: (Starting left.) Well, I must be getting back home. Thanks for

the magazines. We’ve borrowed everything but the kitchen stove. I’ll be over for it next.

BETTY: (Laughing.) All right. JACK: (Hesitating.) At least—I’ll be back—to see you—if I may— BETTY: (Looking after him.) Fine. JACK: ‘Bye! (He exits left.) GRANDAD rubs his eyes.


FELICIA METCALFE 21

GRANDAD: (Yawning.) I must-a dropped off to sleep. BETTY: Yes, I think you did. GRANDAD: Did I sort-er snore. BETTY: (Crossing right.) Well, you ran the scale once or twice. KIP enters through the arch. GRANDAD: Well, young man, how are you planning to spend the

rest of the day? KIP: After lunch I’m going to the picture show. GRANDAD: (Scowling.) Picture shows cost money. Have you got

any? KIP: Twenty dollars. GRANDAD: Whew! Where’d you get it? KIP: Mother paid me for mowing the yard twice. GRANDAD: You’re not gonna spend it all today, are ye? KIP: No sir. I’m just goin’ to spend five dollars today. GRANDAD: (Nodding.) That’s right. Save your money. Betty, can

you help me go back to my room? I think I’ll finish that cat nap I started.

BETTY: Sure! (She takes him out through the arch, he leans on his cane.)

Knock at door left. KIP: Come in. TRUDIE: (Enters with hammer.) Thanks. Here’s the hammer I

borrowed from Mrs. Morton. KIP: All right. I’ll give it to her. (He takes it.) TRUDIE: You’re her nephew, aren’t you? KIP: Uh huh. TRUDIE: She told me she was expecting you. KIP: Won’t you sit down? (She sits down in the straight chair upper

left. KIP sits on the sofa, facing her, right. Silence for a second and then suddenly KIP says.) Is your school out?

TRUDIE: Uh huh.



Silence for a second. KIP: (With a rush of breath.) What grade are you in? TRUDIE: I’ll be in eighth grade next fall. KIP: So will I. Silence for a second. KIP: (Suddenly.) I’m fourteen going on fifteen. How old are you? TRUDIE: Fourteen, going on fifteen. Silence for a second. KIP: (Hopefully.) I like vacation, don’t you? TRUDIE: Uh huh. KIP: (Quickly.) Do you like movies? TRUDIE: (Eagerly.) I sure do. KIP: (More energetically.) Is there a good one here? TRUDIE: There sure is. KIP: (Flatly.) I thought maybe I’d go this afternoon. TRUDIE: (Looking crestfallen.) Oh! Silence for a second. KIP: Did—ur—did you ever go to a movie with a boy? TRUDIE: No. KIP: Would you? TRUDIE: (Eagerly.) Yes, I guess so. Why? KIP: I was just wondering. TRUDIE: Oh! (Silence for a second. TRUDIE stands up.) I’ve got to

go. KIP: Where? TRUDIE: Home. (She starts toward door left.) KIP: Wait a minute. TRUDIE: Why? KIP: (Swallows.) I wanted to ask you something. TRUDIE: What?


FELICIA METCALFE 23

KIP: (Twisting his hands together embarrassed.) Ur—would—ur-you like to go with me?

TRUDIE: Where? KIP: To a movie. TRUDIE: When? KIP: This afternoon. TRUDIE: Sure! I’ll go. KIP: (Embarrassed.) Well—ur—I’ll stop by for you about three

o’clock. TRUDIE: Fine! I’ll be ready. KIP: Okay. TRUDIE: Okay. KIP: See you at three. TRUDIE: Okay. KIP: Okay. (TRUDIE runs out left. KIP goes to a mirror hanging on

the wall down right, takes a small comb out of his pocket, and begins combing his hair. One lock won’t stay down. BETTY enters singing. She gets a magazine and sits curled up on one foot on the sofa. Disgusted with his hair, KIP starts combing it all over again.) Aw! Shucks!

BETTY: What’s the matter? KIP: My hair won’t stay in place. One piece sticks straight up. BETTY: Why don’t you put some water on it? KIP: That won’t do any good. BETTY: Wear a hairnet. That’ll train it to stay down.

(Scoffing.) I’m no sissy. BETTY: Put some oil on it. KIP: (Suddenly.) Say, Sis— BETTY: What? KIP: (Thoughtfully.) Do you remember your first date? BETTY: Sure. It was just about five years ago. When I was fourteen. KIP: Were you sorta nervous? BETTY: No, not that I remember. KIP: Well, I am. BETTY: (Surprised.) What’s going on here? You don’t mean to tell

me you have a date? KIP: Yep! I’m gonna take a girl to the movies this afternoon. BETTY: (Amazed.) And pay her way?



KIP: Sure! BETTY: As close fisted as you are? KIP: I don’t mind spending money—sometimes. BETTY: This is fast work. What girl do you know here? KIP: One that lives next door. BETTY: It’s good you’ve got that money. KIP: (Scornfully.) I’m not going to spend all of it—on a girl! BETTY: You don’t think you can take a girl out and get by on less

than twenty dollars, do you? KIP: (Loftily.) Sure I can. Our tickets won’t cost but four dollars a

piece. That’s eight dollars. BETTY: Tickets cost eight dollars. What are you talking about? KIP: (Knowingly.) Not in the afternoon—up in the balcony. BETTY: You’ll want to buy a bag of popcorn apiece. KIP: One bag’ll do for both of us. No use in foundering yourself on it. BETTY: After the show you are supposed to take her by the

drugstore to get a drink. KIP: (Alarmed.) She will expect that? BETTY: Sure! She’ll be thirsty after eating the popcorn. KIP: (Thoughtfully.) Maybe I’d better not buy any popcorn. BETTY: Don’t be a piker. Go on and spread it on right. KIP: (Scowling.) Say, that’s gonna cost a lot—let me see—eight

dollars for tickets and then popcorn and drinks. Gosh! I won’t have anything left. What did I ever get into this for.

BETTY: Love at first sight. KIP: I didn’t know it would mount up to big money. BETTY: Well, it’s too late to backtrack now. KIP: (Sadly.) Shucks! I won’t have enough to go to but one more

movie while I’m here. (He sits down looking forlorn.) BETTY: What are you going to wear? KIP: What I have on of course. I didn’t bring another suit—just some

overalls. BETTY: That suit’s awfully wrinkled from sleeping on the train. KIP: (Looking down at it.) It sure is. BETTY: What’ll you give me to press it for you? KIP: Will you, sis? BETTY: Yes, I’ll fix you up—after lunch. Have you got a clean shirt? KIP: Won’t this one do?


FELICIA METCALFE 25

BETTY: Certainly not. It’s got spots on it where you spilled your coffee at breakfast.

KIP: (Remembering.) I think I have another one in my bag. BETTY: (Rising.) Okay, sis. They exit through the arch. Knock at door left. TILLY enters right and goes to the door. TILLY: Come in. JUDY Norwood enters with a box of tacks. JUDY: (Crossing to center.) Here’s that box of tacks I borrowed. TILLY: (Taking the tacks.) All right. JUDY: (Hesitantly) Mother says she hates to impose on Mrs.

Morton’s good nature—but do you have a few old newspapers we could spread out while my brother does a little painting in the kitchen?

TILLY: Yes, they’s a stack of ‘em out on the back porch. I’ll go get you some.

JUDY: (Smiling.) Thanks so much. TILLY: (Pointing at the chair up left.) Sit down and rest. JUDY: (Sitting.) Thanks. TILLY exits right. KIP enters through the arch. KIP: (Surprised.) Why, hello! JUDY: Hello. KIP: (Sitting down.) I was just thinking— JUDY: What? KIP: Do you know what picture’s on this afternoon? JUDY: Let me see—oh, yes—it’s Brad Pitt. KIP: What in? JUDY: A mystery. KIP: You think it’s any good? JUDY: (Eagerly.) Yes. They say it’s wonderful! KIP: That’s good. I don’t like to waste my mon—I mean my time

goin’ to somethin’ stuffy.



JUDY: I don’t like stuffy ones either. KIP: Do you like Brad Pitt? JUDY: (Emphatically.) Oh yes! I think he’s darling. KIP: You think you’d like him in a mystery? JUDY: Yes, I’m sure I would. KIP: Well, all right. I’ll come by your house about three o’clock. JUDY: All right. I’ll be ready. (TILLY enters with old papers.) TILLY: (Crossing to JUDY.) Here they are. JUDY: (Rising to take them.) Thank you so much. (TILLY exits

right.) JUDY: I’ve got to get going, Jack’s waiting for these papers. (She

crosses to door left.) KIP: See you at three. JUDY: Okay! KIP: Okay! She exits left. TILLY sticks her head in door right. TILLY: Your aunty says come here a minute. She wants you to open

a pickle bottle. KIP: All right. Tell her I’ll be there in a minute. TILLY exits. KIP pretends he is escorting a lady. He crooks his arm and walks across stage toward door right. BETTY enters with several neckties. BETTY: (Disgustedly.) Your things are in a mess. Look at these

ties—all mussed—which one do you want to wear? I’ll lay it out to press with the other things.

KIP: (Wrinkling his nose.) I don’t have to wear a tie, do I? BETTY: Of course! Why not? KIP: They make me hot. BETTY: Silly! Go on—choose one. (She holds them up.) KIP: I’ll take the little red bow tie—if I have to wear one. BETTY: All right. Come on, let’s find the ironing board. They exit through the arch. Knock at door. TILLY enters right and answers. LUDIE enters with a magazine.


FELICIA METCALFE 27

LUDIE: Here’s one of Mrs. Morton’s magazines. My brother forgot to

bring it with the others. TILLY: All right. LUDIE: Mother says she’s sorry to be so much trouble, but she

wants to know if you have a can opener. We’re trying to fix lunch and we can’t find ours.

TILLY: I’ll go get you one. (TILLY goes out right.) LUDIE gets a magazine and sits down, up left. While she’s turning the pages, KIP enters through the arch. KIP: (Surprised.) Hello! LUDIE: Hello! KIP: I didn’t know you were here. LUDIE: I came over to borrow a can opener. Pretty soon we’ll have

borrowed everything you have. KIP: That’s all right. Is somebody getting it for you? LUDIE: Yes—the maid. KIP: That’s good. LUDIE: (Holds up a magazine like the “Saturday Evening Post” or

“Collier’s.”) Doesn’t this Coca Cola ad look good! KIP: Yeah, sure does. LUDIE: Makes me thirsty to look at it. KIP: Me too. Does your mother let you drink coke? LUDIE: Yes, if I don’t drink but one. KIP: (Definitely.) Well, that’s all anybody ought to drink. Do you like

popcorn? LUDIE: (Shaking her head.) No, not much. KIP: (Eagerly.) You don’t? LUDIE: No. I’d rather have candy. KIP: (Wilting.) Oh! LUDIE: Why? KIP: (Generously.) Well, I thought I’d buy you some popcorn this

afternoon. It’s right nice to eat during a movie. LUDIE: Oh, I like it all right. KIP: We can get a Coca Cola after the show. LUDIE: (Puzzled.) After the show?



KIP: Yeah, after we go to see Brad Pitt. LUDIE: (Smiling happily.) That’ll be nice. KIP: You’re sure you want to go? LUDIE: (Nodding.) Yes, of course. KIP: (Gloomily.) I don’t know whether the show’s any good or not. LUDIE: What? They say it’s grand! KIP: All right. I’ll be by for you as soon as my suit’s pre - I mean, as

soon as I can after lunch. LUDIE: I’ll be ready. TILLY enters right with a can opener. TILLY: (Crossing to LUDIE.) Here it is. LUDIE: Thanks. (She gets up to go.) KIP: See you later. LUDIE: Okay! KIP: Okay! (LUDIE goes out left. KIP lolls on the sofa. Phone

rings.) TILLY: (Answers.) Hello!—yes, ma’am—no, ma’am—I’ll call her.

(She goes to door right, calling off right.) Mis’ Morton somebody wants ye on the phone.

MRS. MORTON comes in drying her hands on the apron which she has on. She goes to the table, takes the receiver from TILLY and plunks it down beside the phone, but not on the hook, and walks away. TILLY: Ain’t ye gonna answer it. MRS. MORTON: No! Just leave the receiver off the hook till we get

lunch ready. I guess that will stop her for awhile. Thumping of cane offstage, up center. MRS. MORTON: Kip, will you please go see what your grandfather

wants. TILLY goes out right. KIP doesn’t get up at once. GRANDAD thumps his cane again.


FELICIA METCALFE 29

MRS. MORTON: Please, Kip. Father gets so impatient. KIP: (Rising and crossing, up stage to exit, calling as he goes.) All

right, Grandad. I’m coming. MRS. MORTON fluffs up the pillows on the easy chair and rearranges the foot stool in front of it. KIP enters up center with GRANDAD and helps him to the chair. MRS. MORTON: Is everything all right, Father? GRANDAD: (Sourly.) Just don’t bother me, that’s all. We men can

manage all right without any women getting in our way. Now run along with ye!

MRS. MORTON crosses to exit, right. KIP: (When GRANDAD is seated.) How’s that? GRANDAD: All right, I guess. KIP: Anything you want? GRANDAD: No, not right now. KIP: (Exiting up center.) I’ve got to go shine my shoes. GRANDAD: (Crabbily.) Shine your shoes? What for? It’s not

Sunday. KIP: (Sheepishly.) I’ve got a date with a girl this afternoon. GRANDAD: (Chuckling in a high tee-hee tone.) With a girl? Well, I’ll

be! Where you goin’? KIP: To a movie. GRANDAD: Well, I’ll be! KIP: Grandad, do you remember the first movie you ever took a girl

to? GRANDAD: Movie? We didn’t have any movies back then. I took

my girl to Sunday night preachin’! All it cost me was a nickel in the plate.

BETTY: (Appears through the arch.) Kip, come get the iron down from the top shelf.

KIP: (Crossing to the arch.) Okay. They both exit. Very loud knock at front door left.



GRANDAD: (In his high squeaky voice.) Come in! The door opens and a tall, heavy-set man wearing a cowboy costume comes in. He is about sixty years old, has on a ten-gallon wide-brimmed hat of some kind, a red bandanna tied around his neck, a checkered red and blue shirt, high leather boots and a leather belt. He has a long handlebar mustache and heavy eyebrows. He talks very loudly. His name is JIM Mahoney. JIM: (Striding across the room to GRANDAD’s side.) Well! Well! If it

ain’t ol’ Bill Eichelburger, as big as life and twice as natural. (He slaps GRANDAD on the back and pumps his hand. GRANDAD flinches and looks at him suspiciously.) Don’t ye know me, Bill?

GRANDAD: No. Who are ye? JIM: You mean to say you don’t recognize me? Take a good squint

at me. (He poses for GRANDAD to look at him.) GRANDAD: As fer as I know I never saw ye before. (JIM laughs a

loud guffaw.) JIM: Well, if that don’t beat the world. This is Jim Mahoney from

Arizony. GRANDAD: Jim Mahoney? You mean the little cuss that used to live

on the farm next to us out at Three Forks? JIM: (Slapping his chest.) One and the same. GRANDAD: (Amazed.) You mean that little runt that looked like a

bar o’ soap after a hard day’s washin’? JIM: (Boisterously.) One and the same. GRANDAD: (Unbelievingly.) The boy I used to wrastle and beat the

livin’ lights out of? JIM: One and the same. GRANDAD: (Slapping his knee.) Well, I’ll be! What happened to

start ye a-growin’, Jim? JIM: Well, Pa took us out West and bought a ranch, and I

commenced to grow. ‘Count o’ having so much good victuals and plenty o’ exercise ropin’ cattle. I growed straight up fer a while, since then I been a-growin’ side-ways and front-ways. (Slapping his stomach.)

GRANDAD: Where’s your folks?


FELICIA METCALFE 31

JIM: I ain’t got none. Pa and Ma died and left me all alone. GRANDAD: And you never got married? JIM: (Laughing.) Me, marry? No, sir, not so long as I could outrun

the women. GRANDAD: (Pointing his cane at the sofa.) Well, sit down, Jim, I’m

sure glad to see ye again. JIM: (Crossing right to sit.) Say, what you a-doin’ settin’ in that

chair? GRANDAD: (Drooping.) I been a-ailin’ fer a long time. JIM: What’s ailin’ ye? GRANDAD: (Sadly.) A little bit o’ everything. Worst trouble is, I got

ulcers. JIM: Where ‘bouts? GRANDAD: (Rubbing his stomach.) In my stomach. JIM: How ye know ye got’em? Ye ain’t never seen ‘em have ye? GRANDAD: The doctor said I did. I guess I don’t have long to live.

(The corners of his mouth droop.) JIM: (Snapping his fingers.) Now listen, you ain’t old enough yet to

pass in yer chips, get up from there man and fool the doctor. GRANDAD: (Whimpering.) I don’t have any strength. JIM: (Snorting.) Why ain’t ye? GRANDAD: I’m on a diet. I don’t get enough to eat. JIM: (Exploding.) Diet be hanged! What you need’s a big bait of

food. I’m plannin’ a little supper party tonight to celebrate my homecoming. I’m goin’ out to Three Forks after awhile, and round up some of the boys and bring’em in to give ‘em a good feed. And you’ll have to be there too.

GRANDAD: (Shaking his head.) I couldn’t go, Jim. I’m not able. JIM: (Confidently.) I’ll get ye there and I’ll buy ye a steak three

inches thick and as big as my hat. GRANDAD leans forward, his eyes gleaming, his mouth watering as he licks his lips. GRANDAD: A steak?! JIM: Sure! A big juicy Porterhouse covered with onions. GRANDAD: (Interestedly.) Where you going to have your party?



JIM: I done made arrangements to have it at the Greasy Spoon. We’re goin’ upstairs in a private dining room where nobody’ll bother us. The proprietor himself is a gonna do the cookin’ fer us and they say he’s plenty good.

GRANDAD: I wisht I could go. Who’s gonna be there? JIM: I’m plannin’ on havin’ Jobe Feeney and Dave Hawkins and Dr.

Zeke Johnson, and you and me. GRANDAD: I wisht I could-a had Zeke to doctor me stead o’ this

town-upstart that Laura called in. I bet Zeke could-a cured me. JIM: (Rising.) I’ll be back fer ye about six o’clock, an’ you be ready.

I got ter go to town now and find me a way to ride out to Three Forks.

GRANDAD: (Unhappily shaking his head.) Ain’t no use in you comin’ by fer me, Jim.

JIM: Why not? GRANDAD: My daughter won’t let me go. JIM: Don’t let her know nothin’ about it. GRANDAD: How’m I gonna keep her from knowin’? JIM: (Taking off his hat and scratching his head.) I’ll think of a way

to git ye out o’ the house. Just leave that to me. GRANDAD: Well, all right—if ye kin. (Knock at front door.) Come in. The door opens and MISS ABBY Higgins comes in. She is a funny-looking old maid of about fifty. Her gray hair is curled and wrapped in a knot on top of her head. She has on a fancy dress with a frill about her neck. Her skirt comes down to her shoes. She is rather coy and puts her hand up to her mouth and turns her face away when she is embarrassed. MISS ABBY: Good morning, Mr. Eichelburger. GRANDAD: (Rather ungraciously.) Good morning, Miss Abby. MISS ABBY: I tried to get you on the phone just now, but it must be

out of fix. None of ye would answer. GRANDAD: I guess it’s wore out. MISS ABBY: (Looks at JIM coyly.) I saw him come in and I thought

maybe it was somebody I knew and I’d run over ter see—but I see now it ain’t.


FELICIA METCALFE 33

GRANDAD: (Pointing his cane at JIM.) This is an old neighbor of mine before we moved to town. Mr. Jim Mahoney—Miss Abby Higgins.

MISS ABBY: (Dropping a curtsy.) Pleased-to-meet-cha. JIM: Pleased-to-meet-cha. (He bows stiffly.) MISS ABBY: What did ye say the name was? JIM: (Proudly.) They call me “Big Jim” Mahoney out in Arizony. MISS ABBY: (Crossing right, near him, giggling.) Oh! You are one

of those cowboys, ain’t ye? JIM: I guess you’re right, ma’am. MISS ABBY: (Coyly.) I just adore westerners. They’re all so big and

strong and manly. JIM: (Pleased.) Some of ‘em are, I guess. MISS ABBY: Please sit down and tell me all about life on the

western plains. It would hold me spellbound to hear about it—all those cows and things. (She sits down downstage on the sofa to encourage him.)

JIM: I’m sorry, ma’am, but I ain’t got time. I’m fixin’ to go out to the country and I got to hurry. (He crosses left to the door.)

MISS ABBY: Are you visiting here in town? Do you have kinfolks here?

JIM: (Uncomfortably.) No, ma’am. I come back to see some of my old pals.

MISS ABBY: Where are you staying?—If I may be so bold as to ask. JIM: At the Kelly Hotel. MISS ABBY: That awful dirty place! They say the food’s not fitten to

eat. JIM: I don’t eat there. MISS ABBY: Where do you eat? If I may be so bold as to ask. JIM: I et breakfast at the Greasy Spoon this morning, and it was

mighty good. MISS ABBY: I see. Well I hope you don’t get indigestion eatin’ at

places like that. What a man needs is good home cooking. (She giggles.)

MRS. MORTON: (Enters right.) Well! I didn’t know we had company.

GRANDAD: Laura, this is one of my old friends, Jim Mahoney. JIM: From out in Arizony.



MRS. MORTON: I’m glad to meet you, Mr. Mahoney. (She shakes hands with him. To MISS ABBY.) Good morning, Miss Abby, I’m real busy in the kitchen this morning. Sorry I can’t stay and entertain you.

MISS ABBY: That’s all right. Don’t bother about me. These two gentlemen will entertain me. Mr. Mahoney was just fixin’ to tell me about life out west.

JIM: I’m sorry, ma’am, but I’ve got to be goin,” (He turns to MRS. MORTON.) glad I met you.

MRS. MORTON: Won’t you stay for lunch? MISS ABBY: Yes, do, and I’ll just stay too if I won’t put you out none,

Mrs. Morton. JIM: Thank you, ma’am, but I can’t this time. (To GRANDAD.)

Remember what I said, Bill. Knock at door left. MRS. MORTON goes to the door. TRUDIE, JUDY, and LUDIE enter. TRUDIE, JUDY, and LUDIE: (In unison.) May we speak to Kip?

(JIM goes upstage to GRANDAD’s right.) MRS. MORTON: Yes, I’ll call him. (She goes to the door upstage

center and calls “KIP!”) JIM ad-libs to GRANDAD. KIP enters blithely into the room. When he sees the three girls lined up, he stops aghast, his mouth drops open, his eyes bulge out. He looks from one to the other. KIP: (Making inarticulate sounds like water pouring out of a bottle.)

Oogle—doogle—oog—I—I—ur—I—ur- MRS. MORTON: Let me introduce the Norwood triplets, Mr.

Mahoney—Miss Abby Higgins and Kip you already know them it seems.

TRUDIE: (Curtsying.) I’m Trudie. JUDY: (Curtsying.) I’m Judy. LUDIE: (Curtsying.) I’m Ludie. TRUDIE, JUDY, and LUDIE: (In unison.) Kip, we can’t go to the

movie this afternoon. KIP: (His face lights up eagerly.) You say you can’t?


FELICIA METCALFE 35

TRUDIE, JUDY, and LUDIE: No—but we can go tonight after supper! Mother said we might. (KIP looks crestfallen.)

KIP: Ohoh! (He staggers, hand to head.) But I—ah—I—ohhhh! (He staggers to the sofa, right, and sits weakly.)

TRUDIE: Toodle-ooh! (She goes out left waving her finger tips at KIP.)

JUDY: Toodle-ooh! (She goes out left waving her finger tips.) LUDIE: Toodle-ooh! (She goes out left waving finger tips.) BLACKOUT.

END OF ACT ONE



ACT TWO SETTING: MRS. MORTON’s living room. Six o’clock in the evening on the same day. AT RISE: MRS. MORTON is knitting. KIP enters through the door right whistling. He has on blue overalls. His face and hands are dirty and his hair is a mess. KIP: Well, I finished cuttin’ the grass, Aunt Laura. MRS. MORTON: That’s nice. Where’d you put the lawn mower? KIP: In the garage. MRS. MORTON: That’s right. He stands twisting one foot around nervously. MRS. MORTON goes on knitting. KIP: Aunt Laura? MRS. MORTON: Yes? KIP: Ur—where’s my money? MRS. MORTON: Oh, yes, of course. I forgot. I don’t know whether

I have any change or not. Won’t tomorrow do? KIP: (Embarrassed.) Ur—no ma’am. I’ve got to have it tonight. MRS. MORTON: Very well. Hand me my purse. There it is over on

the table. He gets it and hands it to her. She gets money out and gives it to him. He goes to the phone and thumbs through the directory, then he calls a number. KIP: Hello!—Is this the Empire Picture show? How much are the

tickets for the show tonight? Whew! (His voice sounds worried.) Well, how much are they in the balcony? Whew!—What time does the first feature start?—A quarter to seven?—Thanks. (He hangs up. To MRS. MORTON.) Aunt Laura, where can I find a pencil and a piece of paper? I want to do a little figuring.

MRS. MORTON: Over there on the desk.


FELICIA METCALFE 37

He goes to the desk, sits down on the desk chair, chews on his pencil, runs his fingers through his hair, props his heels on the rungs of the chair, and does his figuring out loud. KIP: Two times naught is naught. Put down a naught and carry

nothing. Four times five is twenty. Put down naught and carry two. Four times three is twelve and two is fourteen. Let’s see—tickets, two bags of popcorn and drinks. I lack twenty cents. (He sits humped over the desk, leaning his head on his hand looking dejected. He turns around.) Aunt Laura!

MRS. MORTON: (Not looking up.) Yes? KIP: Could you—ur—could you lend me twenty cents? MRS. MORTON: (Looking up.) I just gave you money. KIP: (Whining.) But I got to have twenty cents more. MRS. MORTON: What for? KIP: It’ll take all I’ve got and twenty cents more to take all those girls

to the movie tonight. MRS. MORTON: It’s ridiculous to spend all that money on a movie. KIP: That’s what it’ll take it to buy’em all tickets and drinks after the

show. MRS. MORTON: (Snorting.) That’s absurd. Let them buy their own

drinks. KIP: (Moves his chair closer to her.) Sis said they’d expect me to

buy’em. MRS. MORTON: You children ought to stay home and play games. I

never thought of going to the movies when I was your age! KIP: Were there any movies to go to? MRS. MORTON: (Ignoring his question.) Take your feet off the

rungs of that chair. KIP: (Dolefully.) I don’t know what I’m going to do. MRS. MORTON: (Knitting again.) All young folks think of now-a-

days is spending money. Those movies’ll do you more harm than good. Call the girls up and tell’em to come over here and make candy instead.

KIP: But I want to go to the show. They say it’s a bang-up good picture.


Thank you for reading this free excerpt from:GRANDAD STEPS OUT

by Felicia Metcalfe.

For performance rights and/or a complete copy of the script,please contact us at:

GREEN ROOM PRESS, [email protected]

www.greenroompress.com

Documents

By Felicia Metcalfe - greenroompress.com room press, inc. p.o. box 248 • cedar rapids, iowa 52406 toll free (888) 350-5005 • fax (319) 368-8011 grandad steps out by felicia metcalfe