The noise outside has now increased, come nearer, swollen to the dimensions of a roar. Presently it is almost under the windows. Fish apparently does not hear it, but Jerry knits his hairless brows and rises to his feet. He goes to the window and throws it open. A mighty cheer goes up and there is the beating of a bass drum.
Jerry. Good gosh!
Cli-in-ng! Cli-in-ng! Cli-in-ng! The door-bell! Then the door swings open, and a dozen men rush into the room. In the lead is Mr. Jones, a politician.
Mr. Jones [approaching Jerry]. Is this Mr. Jeremiah Frost?
Jerry [with signs of fright]. Yes.
Mr. Jones. I’m Mr. Jones, the well-known politician. I am delegated to inform you that on the first ballot you were unanimously given the Republican nomination for President.
Wild cheers from inside and out, and renewed beating of the bass drum. Jerry shakes Mr. Jones’s hand, but Fish, sitting in silence, takes no heed of the proceeding—apparently does not see or hear what is going on.
Jerry [to Mr. Jones]. My golly! I thought you were a revenue officer.
Amid a still louder burst of cheering Jerry is elevated to the shoulders of the crowd, and borne enthusiastically out the door as
The Curtain Falls
ACT II
Any one who felt that the first Act was perhaps a little vulgar, will be glad to learn that we’re now on the lawn of the White House. Indeed, a corner of the Executive Mansion projects magnificently into sight, and steps lead up to the imposing swinging doors of a “Family Entrance.” From the window of the President’s office a flag flutters, and the awning displays this legend:
The White House
Jerry Frost, Pres.
And if you look hard enough at the office window you can see the President himself sitting at his desk inside.
The lawn, bounded by a white brick wall, is no less attractive. Not only are there white vines and flowers, a beautiful white tree, and a white table and chairs, but, also, a large sign over the gate, which bears the President’s name pricked out in electric bulbs.
Two white kittens are strolling along the wall, enjoying the ten-o’clock sunshine. A blond parrot swings in a cage over the table, and one of the chairs is at present occupied by a white fox-terrier puppy about the size of your hand.
That’s right. “Isn’t it darling!” We’ll let you watch it for a moment before we move into the Whirl of Public Affairs.
Look! Here comes somebody out. It’s Mr. Jones, the well-known politician, now secretary to President Frost. He has a white broom in his hands, and, after delighting the puppy with an absolutely white bone, he begins to sweep off the White House steps. At this point the gate swings open and Charlotte Frost comes in. As befits the first Lady of the Land, she is elaborately dressed—in the height of many fashions. She’s evidently been shopping—her arms are full of packages—but she has nevertheless seen fit to array herself in a gorgeous evening dress, with an interminable train. From her wide picture hat a plume dangles almost to the ground.
Mr. Jones politely relieves her of her bundles.
Charlotte [abruptly]. Good morning, Mr. Jones. Has everything gone to pieces?
Mr. Jones looks her over in some surprise.
Jones [apologetically]. Well, perhaps the petticoat——
Charlotte [a little stiffly]. I didn’t mention myself, I don’t think, Mr. Jones. I meant all my husband’s public affairs.
Jones. He’s been in his office all morning, Mrs. Frost. There are a lot of people waiting to see him.
Charlotte. [She’s relieved.] I heard them calling an extra, and I thought maybe everything had gone to pieces.
Jones. No, Mrs. Frost, the President hasn’t made any bad mistake for some time now. Of course, a lot of people objected when he appointed his father Secretary of the Treasury; his father’s being so old——
Charlotte. Well, I’ve had to stand for his family all my life—so I guess the country can. [Confidentially.]
Jones [a little embarrassed]. I see you’ve been shopping.
Charlotte. I’ve been buying some things for my sister’s wedding reception this afternoon.
The window of President Frost’s office opens abruptly. A white cigar emerges—followed by Jerry’s hairless eyebrows—passionately knit.
Jerry. All right. Go on and yell—and then when I make some awful mistake and the country goes to pieces, blame it on me!
Charlotte [very patiently]. Nagging me again. Picking on me. Pick—pick—pick! All day!
Jerry. Gosh, you can be disagreeable, Charlit!
Charlotte. Pick—pick—pick!
Jerry [confused]. Pick?
Charlotte [sharply]. Pick!
Jerry jams down his window.
Meanwhile from the window above has emerged a hand holding a mirror. The hand is presently followed by a head with the hair slicked back damply. Doris, sister-in-law to the President, is seeking more light for her afternoon toilet.
Doris [disapprovingly]. I can hear you two washing your clothes in public all over the lawn.
Charlotte. He keeps nagging at me.
Doris begins to apply a white lotion to her face. She daubs it at a freckle on her nose, and gazes passionately at the resultant white splotch.
Doris [abstractedly]. I should think you’d get so you could stand him in public, anyways.
Charlotte. He makes me madder in public than anywhere else.
She gathers her bundles and goes angrily into the White House. Doris glances down at Mr. Jones, and, deciding hastily that she is too publicly placid, withdraws her person from sight.
Jones picks up his broom and is about to go inside when a uniformed chauffeur opens the gate and announces:
“The Honorable Joseph Fish, Senator from Idaho.”
And now here’s Joseph Fish, in an enormous frock-coat and a tall silk hat, radiating an air of appalling prosperity.
Fish. Good morning, Mr. Jones. Is my fiancée around?
Jones. I believe she’s in her boudoir, Senator Fish. How is everything down at the capital?
Fish [gloomily]. Awful! I’m in a terrible position, Mr. Jones—and this was to have been my wedding reception day. Listen to this. [He takes a telegram from his pocket.] “Senator Joseph Fish, Washington, D. C. Present the State of Idaho’s compliments to President Frost and tell him that the people of Idaho demand his immediate resignation.”
Jones. This is terrible!
Fish. It’s because he made his father Secretary of the Treasury.
Jones. This will be depressing news to the President.
Fish. But think of me! This was to have been my wedding reception day. What will Doris say when she hears about this. I’ve got to ask her own brother-in-law to—to move out of his home?
Jones. Have a cocktail.
He takes a shaker and glasses from behind a porch pillar and pours out two drinks.
Jones. I saw this coming. But I’ll tell you now, Senator Fish, the President won’t resign.
Fish. Then it’ll be my duty to have him impeached.
Jones. Shall I call the President now?
Fish. Let’s wait until eleven o’clock. Give me one more hour of happiness. [He raises his eyes pathetically to the upper window.] Doris—oh Doris!
Doris, now fully dressed and under the influence of cosmetics, comes out onto the lawn. Mr. Jones, picking up the broom and the puppy, goes into the White House.
Fish [jealously]. Where were you all day yesterday?
Doris [languidly]. An old beau of mine came to see me and kept hanging around.
Fish [in wild alarm]. Good God! What’d he say?
Doris. He said I was stuck up because my brother-in-law was President, and I said: “Well, what if I am? I’d hate to say what your brother-in-law is.”
Fish [fascinated]. What is he?
Doris. He owns a garbage disposal service.
Fish [even more fascinated]. Is that right? Can you notice it on his brother-in-law?
Doris. Something awful. I wouldn’t of let him come in the house. Imagine if somebody came in to see you and said: “Sniff. Sniff. Who’s been sitting on these chairs?” And you said: “Oh, just my brother-in-law, the garbage disposal man.”
Fish. Doris—Doris, an awful thing has occurred——
Doris [looking out the gate]. Here comes Dada. Say, he must be going on to between eighty and ninety years old, if not older.
Fish [gloomily]. Why did your brother-in-law have to go and make him Secretary of the Treasury? He might as well have gone to an old men’s home and said: “See here, I want to get eight old dumb-bells for my cabinet.”
Doris. Oh, Jerry does everything all wrong. You see, he thought his father had read a lot of books—the Bible and the Encyclopædia and the Dictionary and all.
In totters Dada. Prosperity has spruced him up, but not to any alarming extent. The hair on his face is not under cultivation. His small, watery eyes gleam dully in their ragged ovals. His mouth laps faintly at all times, like a lake with tides mildly agitated by the moon.
Fish. Good morning, Mr. Frost.
Dada [dimly]. Hm.
He is under the impression that he has made an adequate response.
Doris [tolerantly]. Dada, kindly meet my fiancé—Senator Fish from Idaho.
Dada [expansively]. Young man, how do you do? I feel very well. You wouldn’t think I was eighty-eight years old, would you?
Fish [politely]. I should say not.
Doris. You’d think he was two hundred.
Dada [who missed this]. Yeah. [A long pause.] We used to have a joke when I was young—we used to say the first Frosts came to this country in the beginning of winter.
Doris. Funny as a crutch.
Dada [to Fish]. Do you ever read the Scriptures?
Fish. Sometimes.
Dada. I’m the Secretary of the Treasury, you know. My son made me the Secretary of the Treasury. He’s the President. He was my only boy by my second wife.
Dada. I was born in 1834, under the presidency of Andrew Jackson. I was twenty-seven years old when the war broke out.
Doris [sarcastically]. Do you mean the Revolutionary War?
Dada [witheringly]. The Revolutionary War was in 1776.
Doris. Tell me something I don’t know.
Dada. When you grow older you’ll find there are a lot of things you don’t know. [To Fish.] Do you know my son Jerry?
Doris [utterly disgusted]. Oh, gosh!
Fish. I met your son before he was elected President and I’ve seen him a lot of times since then, on account of being Senator from Idaho and all, and on account of Doris. You see, we’re going to have our wedding reception this afternoon——
In the middle of this speech Dada’s mind has begun to wander. He utters a vague “Hm!” and moves off, paying no further attention, and passing through the swinging doors into the White House.
Fish [impressed in spite of himself by Dada’s great age]. He’s probably had a lot of experience, that old bird. He was alive before you were born.
Doris. So were a lot of other old nuts. Come on—let’s go hire the music for our wedding reception.
Fish [remembering something with a start]. Doris—Doris, would you have a wedding reception with me if you knew—if you knew the disagreeable duty——
Doris. Knew what?
Fish. Nothing. I’m going to be happy, anyways [he looks at his watch]—for almost an hour.
They go out through the garden gate.
And now President Jerry Frost himself is seen to leave his window and in a minute he emerges from the Executive Mansion. He wears a loose-fitting white flannel frock coat, and a tall white stovepipe hat. His heavy gold watch-chain would anchor a small yacht, and he carries a white stick, ringed with a gold band.
After rubbing his back sensuously against a porch pillar, he walks with caution across the lawn and his hand is on the gate-latch when he is hailed from the porch by Mr. Jones.
Jones. Mr. President, where are you going?
Jerry [uneasily]. I thought I’d go down and get a cigar.
Jones [cynically]. It doesn’t look well for you to play dice for cigars, sir.
Jerry sits down wearily and puts his hat on the table.
Jones. I’m sorry to say there’s trouble in the air, Mr. President. It’s what we might refer to as the Idaho matter.
Jerry. The Idaho matter?
Jones. Senator Fish has received orders from Idaho to demand your resignation at eleven o’clock this morning.
Jerry. I never liked that bunch of people they got out there in Idaho.
Jones. Well, I just thought I’d tell you—so you could think about it.
Jerry [hopefully]. Maybe I’ll get some idea how to fix it up. I’m a very resourceful man. I always think of something.
Jones. Mr. President, would you—would you mind telling me how you got your start?
Jerry [carelessly]. Oh, I got analyzed one day, and they just found I was sort of a good man and would just be wasting my time as a railroad clerk.
Jones. So you forged ahead?
Jerry. Sure. I just made up my mind to be President, and then I went ahead and did it. I’ve always been a very ambitious sort of—sort of domineerer.
Jones sighs and takes several letters from his pocket.
Jones. The morning mail.
Jerry [looking at the first letter]. This one’s an ad, I’ll bet. [He opens it.] “Expert mechanics, chauffeurs, plumbers earn big money. We fit you in twelve lessons.” [He looks up.] I wonder if there’s anything personal in that. If there is it’s a low sort of joke.
Jones [soothingly]. Oh, I don’t think there is.
Jerry [offended]. Anybody that’d play a joke like that on a person that has all the responsibility of being President, and then to have somebody play a low, mean joke on him like that!
Jones. I’ll write them a disagreeable letter.
Jerry. All right. But make it sort of careless, as if it didn’t matter to me.
Jones. I can begin the letter “Damn Sirs” instead of “Dear Sirs.”
Jerry. Sure, that’s the idea. And put something like that in the ending, too.
Jones. “Yours insincerely,” or something like that.... Now there’s a few people waiting in here to see you, sir. [He takes out a list.] First, there’s somebody that’s been ordered to be hung.
Jerry. What about him?
Jones. I think he wants to arrange it some way so he won’t be hung. Then there’s a man that’s got a scheme for changing everybody in the United States green.
Jerry [puzzled]. Green?
Jones. That’s what he says.
Jerry. Why green?
Jones. He didn’t say. I told him not to wait. And there’s the Ambassador from Abyssinia. He says that one of our sailors on leave in Abyssinia threw the king’s cousin down a flight of thirty-nine steps.
Jerry [after a pause]. What do you think I ought to do about that?
Jones. Well, I think you ought to—well, send flowers or something, to sort of recognize that the thing had happened.
Jerry [somewhat awed]. Is the king’s cousin sore?
Jones. Well, naturally he——
Jerry. I don’t mean sore that way. I mean did he—did he take it hard? Did he think there was any ill feeling from the United States Government in the sailor’s—action?
Jones. Why, I suppose you might say yes.
Jerry. Well, you tell him that the sailor had no instructions to do any such thing. Demand the sailor’s resignation.
Jones. And Major-General Pushing has been waiting to see you for some time. Shall I tell him to come out here?
Jerry. All right.
Jones goes into the White House and returns, announcing: “Major-General Pushing, U. S. A.”
Out marches General Pushing. He is accompanied at three paces by a fifer and drummer, who play a spirited march. When the General reaches the President’s table the trio halt, the fife and drum cease playing, and the General salutes.
The General is a small fat man with a fierce gray mustache. His chest and back are fairly obliterated with medals, and he is wearing one of those great shakos peculiar to drum-majors.
Jerry. Good morning, General Pushing. Did they keep you waiting?
General Pushing [fiercely]. That’s all right. We’ve been marking time—it’s good for some of the muscles.
Jerry. How’s the army?
General Pushing. Very well, Mr. President. Several of the privates have complained of headaches. [He clears his throat portentously.] I’ve called on you to say I’m afraid we’ve got to have war. I held a conference last night with two others of our best generals. We discussed the matter thoroughly, and then we took a vote. Three to nothing in favor of war.
Jerry [alarmed]. Look at here, General Pushing, I’ve got a lot of things on my hands now, and the last thing I want to have is a war.
General Pushing. I knew things weren’t going very well with you, Mr. President. In fact, I’ve always thought that what this country needs is a military man at the head of it. The people are restless and excited. The best thing to keep their minds occupied is a good war. It will leave the country weak and shaken—but docile, Mr. President, docile. Besides—we voted on it, and there you are.
Jerry. Who is it against?
General Pushing. That we have not decided. We’re going to take up the details to-night. It depends on—just how much money there is in the Treasury. Would you mind calling up your—father— [the General gives this word an ironic accentuation]—and finding out?
Jerry takes up the white telephone from the table. Jones meanwhile has produced the shaker and glasses. He pours a cocktail for every one—even for the fifer and drummer.
Jerry [at the ’phone]. Connect me with the Treasury Department, please.... Is this the Treasury?... This is President Frost.... Oh, I’m very well, thanks. No, it’s better. Much better. The dentist says he doesn’t think I’ll have to have it out now.... Say, what I called you up about is to find how much money there is in the Treasury.... Oh, I see.... Oh, I see. Thanks. [He hangs up the receiver.]
Jerry [worried]. General Pushing, things seem to be a little confused over at the Treasury. Dada—the Secretary of the Treasury isn’t there right now—and they say nobody else knows much about it.
General Pushing [disapprovingly]. Hm! I could put you on a nice war pretty cheap. I could manage a battle or so for almost nothing. [With rising impatience.] But a good President ought to be able to tell just how much we could afford.
Jerry [chastened]. I’ll find out from Dada.
General Pushing [meaningly]. Being President is a sacred trust, you know, Mr. Frost.
Jerry. Well, I know it’s a sacred trust, don’t I?
General Pushing [sternly]. Are you proud of it?
Jerry [utterly crestfallen]. Of course, I’m proud of it. Don’t I look proud? I’m proud as a pecan. [Resentfully.] What do you know about it, anyways? You’re nothing but a common soldier—I mean a common general.
General Pushing [pityingly]. I came here to help you, Mr. Frost. [With warning emphasis.] Perhaps you are aware that the sovereign State of Idaho is about to ask your resignation.
Jerry [now thoroughly resentful]. Look at here, suppose you be the President for a while, if you know so much about it.
General Pushing [complacently]. I’ve often thought that what this country needs is a military man at the head of it.
Jerry. All right, then, you just take off that hat and coat!
Jerry takes off his own coat. Jones rushes forward in alarm.
Jones. If there’s going to be a fight hadn’t we all better go into the billiard-room?
Jerry [insistently to General Pushing]. Take off that hat and coat!
General Pushing [aghast]. But, Mr. President——
Jerry. Listen here—if I’m the President you do what I say.
General Pushing obediently removes his sword and takes off his hat and coat. He assumes a crouching posture and, putting up his fists, begins to dance menacingly around Jerry.
But, instead of squaring off, Jerry gets quickly into the General’s hat and coat and buckles on the sword.
Jerry. All right, since you know so much about being President, you put on my hat and coat and try it for a while.
The General, greatly taken aback, looks from Jerry to Jerry’s coat, with startled eyes. Jerry swaggers up and down the lawn, brandishing the sword. Then his eyes fall with distaste upon the General’s shirtsleeves.
Jerry. Well, what are you moping around for?
General Pushing [plaintively]. Come on, Mr. President, be reasonable. Give me that coat and hat. Nobody appreciates a good joke any more than I do, but——
Jerry [emphatically]. No, I won’t give them to you. I’m a general, and I’m going to war. You can stay around here. [Sarcastically, to Mr. Jones.] He’ll straighten everything out, Mr. Jones.
General Pushing [pleadingly]. Mr. President, I’ve waited for this war for forty years. You wouldn’t take away my coat and hat like that, just as we’ve got it almost ready.
Jerry [pointing to the shirtsleeves]. That’s a nice costume to be hanging around the White House in.
General Pushing [brokenly]. I can’t help it, can I? Who took my coat and hat, anyhow?
Jerry. If you don’t like it you can get out.
General Pushing [sarcastically]. Yes. Nice lot of talk it’d cause if I went back to the War Department looking like this. “Where’s your hat and coat, General?” “Oh, I just thought I’d come down in my suspenders this morning.”
Jerry. You can have my coat—and my troubles.
Charlotte comes suddenly out of the White House, and they turn startled eyes upon her, like two guilty schoolboys.
Charlotte [staring]. What’s the matter? Has everything gone to pieces?
General Pushing [on the verge of tears]. He took my coat and hat.
Charlotte [pointing to the General]. Who is that man?
General Pushing [in a dismal whine]. I’m Major-General Pushing, I am.
Charlotte. I don’t believe it.
Jerry [uneasily]. Yes, he is, Charlit. I was just kidding him.
Charlotte [understanding immediately]. Oh, you’ve been nagging people again.
Jerry [beginning to unbutton the coat]. The General was nagging me, Charlit. I’ve just been teaching him a lesson—haven’t I, General?
He struggles out of the General’s coat and into his own. The General, grunting his relief and disgust, re-attires himself in the military garment.
Jerry [losing confidence under Charlotte’s stare]. Honest, everything’s getting on my nerves. First it’s some correspondence school getting funny, and then he [indicating the General] comes around, and then all the people out in Idaho——
Charlotte [with brows high]. Well, if you want to know what I think, I think everything’s going to pieces.
Jerry. No, it isn’t, Charlit. I’m going to fix everything. I’ve got a firm grip on everything. Haven’t I, Mr. Jones? I’m just nervous, that’s all.
General Pushing [now completely buttoned up, physically and mentally]. In my opinion, sir, you’re a very dangerous man. I have served under eight Presidents, but I have never before lost my coat and hat. I bid you good morning, Mr. President. You’ll hear from me later.
At his salute the fife and drum commence to play. The trio execute about face, and the escort, at three paces, follows the General out the gate.
Jerry stares uneasily after them.
Jerry. Everybody’s always saying that I’m going to hear from ’em later. They want to kick me out of this job—that’s what they want. They think I don’t know.
Jones. The people elected you, Mr. President. And the people want you—all except the ones out in Idaho.
Charlotte [anxiously]. Couldn’t you be on the safe side and have yourself reduced to Vice-President, or something?
A Newsboy [outside]. Extra! Extra! Idaho says: “Resign or be Impeached.”
Jerry. Was that newsboy yelling something about me?
Charlotte [witheringly]. He never so much as mentioned you.
In response to Mr. Jones’s whistle a full-grown newsboy comes in at the gate. He hands Jerry a paper and is given a bill.
Jerry [carelessly]. Keep the change. It’s all right. I’ve got a big salary.
The Newsboy [pointing to Jerry’s frock coat]. I almost had one of them dress suits once.
Jerry [not without satisfaction]. I got six of them.
The Newsboy. I hadda get one so I could take a high degree in the Ku Klux. But I didn’t get one.
Jerry [absorbed in the paper]. I got six of ’em.
The Newsboy. I ain’t got none. Well, much obliged. So long.
The newsboy goes out.
Jones [reading over Jerry’s shoulder]. It says: “Idaho flays Treasury choice.”
Charlotte [wide-eyed]. Does that mean they’re going to flay Dada?
Jones [looking at his watch]. Senator Fish will be here at any moment now.
Charlotte. Well, all I know is that I’d show some spunk and not let them kick me out, even if I was the worst President they ever had.
Jerry. Listen, Charlit, you needn’t remind me of it every minute.
Charlotte. I didn’t remind you of it. I just mentioned it in an ordinary tone of voice.
She goes into the White House. Senator Joseph Fish comes in hesitantly through the gate.
Jerry [to Jones]. Here comes the State of Idaho.
Fish [timorously]. Good morning, Mr. President. How are you?
Jerry. Oh, I’m all right.
Fish [hurriedly producing the telegram and mumbling his words]. Got a little matter here, disagreeable duty. Want to get through as quickly as possible. “Senator Joseph Fish, Washington, D. C. Present the State of Idaho’s compliments to President Frost, and tell him that the people of Idaho demand his immediate resignation.” [He folds up the telegram and puts it in his pocket.] Well, Mr. President, I guess I got to be going. [He moves toward the gate and then hesitates.] This was to have been my wedding-reception day. Of course, Doris will never marry me now. It’s a very depressing thing to me, President Frost. [With his hand on the gate latch.] I suppose you want me to tell ’em you won’t resign, don’t you?
Jones. We won’t resign.
Fish. Well, then it’s only right to tell you that Judge Fossile of the Supreme Court will bring a motion of impeachment at three o’clock this afternoon.
He turns melancholy eyes on Doris’s window. He kisses his hand toward it in a tragic gesture of farewell. Then he goes out.
Jerry looks at Mr. Jones as though demanding encouragement.
Jerry. They don’t know the man they’re up against, do they, Mr. Jones?
Jones. They certainly do not.
Jerry [lying desperately and not even convincing himself]. I’ve got resources they don’t know about.
Jones. If you’ll pardon a suggestion, I think the best move you could make, Mr. President, would be to demand your father’s resignation immediately.
Jerry [incredulously]. Put Dada out? Why, he used to work in a bank when he was young, and he knows all about the different amounts of money.
A pause.
Jerry [uncertainly]. Do you think I’m the worst President they ever had?
Jones [considering]. Well, no, there was that one they impeached.
Jerry [consoling himself]. And then there was that other fellow—I forget his name. He was terrible. [Another disconsolate pause.] I suppose I might as well go down and get a cigar.
Jones. There’s just one more man out here to see you and he says he came to do you a favor. His name is—the Honorable Snooks, or Snukes, Ambassador from Irish Poland.
Jerry. What country’s that?
Jones. Irish Poland’s one of the new European countries. They took a sort of job lot of territories that nobody could use and made a country out of them. It’s got three or four acres of Russia and a couple of mines in Austria and a few lots in Bulgaria and Turkey.
Jerry. Show them all out here.
Jones. There’s only one. [He goes into the White House, returning immediately.]
Jones. The Honorable Snooks, or Snukes, Ambassador to the United States from Irish Poland.
The Honorable Snooks comes out through the swinging doors. His resemblance to Mr. Snooks, the bootlegger, is, to say the least, astounding. But his clothes—they are the clothes of the Corps Diplomatique. Red stockings enclose his calves, fading at the knee into black satin breeches. His coat, I regret to say, is faintly reminiscent of the Order of Mystic Shriners, but a broad red ribbon slanting diagonally across his diaphragm gives the upper part of his body a svelte, cosmopolitan air. At his side is slung an unusually long and cumbersome sword.
He comes in slowly, I might even say cynically, and after a brief nod at Jerry, surveys his surroundings with an appraising eye.
Jones goes to the table and begins writing.
Snooks. Got a nice house, ain’t you?
Jerry [still depressed from recent reverses]. Yeah.
Snooks. Wite, hey?
Jerry [as if he had just noticed it]. Yeah, white.
Snooks [after a pause]. Get dirty quick.
Jerry [adopting an equally laconic manner]. Have it washed.
Jerry [uneasily]. She’s all right. Have a cigar?
Snooks [taking the proffered cigar]. Thanks.
Jerry. That’s all right. I got a lot of them.
Snooks. That’s some cigar.
Jerry. I got a lot of them. I don’t smoke that kind myself, but I got a lot of them.
Snooks. That’s swell.
Jerry [becoming boastful]. See that tree? [The white tree.] Look, that’s a special tree. You never saw a tree like that before. Nobody’s got one but me. That tree was given to me by some natives.
Snooks. That’s swell.
Jerry. See this cane? The band around it’s solid gold.
Snooks. Is that right? I thought maybe it was to keep the squirrels from crawling up. [Abruptly.] Need any liquor? I get a lot, you know, on account of bein’ an ambassador. Gin, vermuth, bitters, absinthe?
Jerry. No, I don’t.... See that sign? I bet you never saw one like that before. I had it invented.
Snooks [bored]. Class. [Switching the subject.] I hear you made your old man Secretary of the Treasury.
Jerry. My father used to work in a——
Snooks. You’d ought to made him official Sandy Claus.... How you gettin’ away with your job?
Jerry [lying]. Oh, fine—fine! You ought to see the military review they had for me last week. Thousands and thousands of soldiers, and everybody cheered when they saw me. [Heartily.] It was sort of inspiring.
Snooks. I seen you plantin’ trees in the movies.
Jerry [excitedly]. Sure. I do that almost every day. That’s nothing to some of the things I have to do. But the thing is, I’m not a bit stuck up about any of it. See that gate?
Snooks. Yeah.
Jerry [now completely and childishly happy]. I had it made that way so that anybody passing by along the street can look in. Cheer them up, see? Sometimes I come out here and sit around just so if anybody passes by—well, there I am.
Snooks [sarcastically]. You ought to have yourself covered with radium so they can see you in the dark. [He changes his tone now and comes down to business.] Say, you’re lucky I found you in this morning. Got the time with you?