 Act 2 of the Vegetable or from President to Postman by F. Scott Fitzgerald. This is a LibriVox recording. All LibriVox recordings are in the public domain. For more information or to volunteer, please visit LibriVox.org. Act 2 Anyone 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, President. 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 blonde 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 world 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. 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. 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 been so old. Well, I've had to stand for his family all my life. Confidentially. So I guess the country can. Jones, a little embarrassed. Uh, I see you've been shopping. I've been buying some things from 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. All right, go on and yell. And then when I make some awful mistake and the counter goes to pieces, blame it on me. Charlotte, very patiently. Magging me again. Picking on me. Pick, pick, pick. All day. Gosh, you can be disagreeable, 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. He keeps snagging me. Doris begins to apply a white lotion to her face. She dobs 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. 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 frockcoat and a tall silk hat, radiating an air of appalling prosperity. Oh, good morning, Mr. Jones. Is my fiancée around? I believe she's in her boudoir, Senator Fish. How is everything down at the capitol? 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. Let the state of Idaho's compliments to President Frost, and tell him that the people of Idaho demand his immediate resignation. This is terrible. It's because he made his father Secretary of the Treasury. This will be depressing news to the President. 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 move out of his home. Have a cocktail. He takes a shaker and glasses from behind a porch pillar and pours out two drinks. I saw this coming, but I'll tell you now, Senator Fish, the President won't resign. Then it'll be my duty to have him impeached. Shall I call the President now? 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 bow of mine came to see me and kept hanging around. Fish in wild alarm. Good God! What did he say? 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? He owns a garbage disposal service. Fish, even more fascinated. Is that right? Can you notice it on his brother-in-law? Something awful. I wouldn't have 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. 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 dumbbells from our cabinet. Oh, Jerry does everything all wrong. You see, he thought his father had read a lot of books, the Bible and the Encyclopedia and the Dictionary and all. In Toddur's 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 dullly in their ragged ovals. His mouth laps faintly at all times, like a lake with tides mildly agitated by the moon. Good morning, Mr. Frost. Dada, dimly. He is under the impression that he has made an adequate response. Doris, tolerantly. Dada, kindly meet my fiance, 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. You'd think he was two hundred. Dada, who missed this. A long pause. We used to have a joke when I was young. We used to say that the first frosts came to this country in the beginning of winter. Funny as a croach. Dada, to Fish. Do you ever read the scriptures? Sometimes. 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. The old dumbbell. I was born in eighteen thirty-four 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 seventeen seventy-six. Tell me something I don't know. 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. I met your son before he was elected president. And I've seen him a lot of time 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, hmm, 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. 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? Knew what? 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 stove-pipe 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. 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 a cigar, sir. Jerry sits down wearily and puts his hat on the table. I'm sorry to say, there's trouble in the air, Mr. President. It's what we might refer to as the Idaho matter. The Idaho matter? Senator Fish has received orders from Idaho to demand your resignation at 11 o'clock this morning. I never liked that bunch of people they got out there in Idaho. Well, I just thought I'd tell you, so you could think about it. Jerry, hopefully. Maybe I'll get you some idea how to fix it up. I'm a very resourceful man. I always think of something. Mr. President, 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. So you forged ahead? 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 a... sort of a domineera. Jones sighs and takes several letters from his pocket. Ah, the morning mail. Jerry, looking at the first letter. This one's an ad, I'll bet. He opens it. Expert mechanics, chauffeurs, plumbers, and big money. We fit you in 12 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. I'll write them a disagreeable letter. All right. But make it sort of careless, as if it didn't matter to me. I can begin the letter damn sirs instead of dear sirs. Sure, that's the idea. And put something like that in the ending, too. 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. What about him? 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. That's what he says. Why green? 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 39 steps. Jerry, after a pause. What do you think I ought to do about that? Well, I think you ought to... Well, send flowers or something to sort of recognize that the thing had happened. Jerry, somewhat odd. Is the king's cousin sore? Well, naturally he... I don't mean sore that way. I mean, did he take it hard? Did he think there was any ill feeling from the United States government in the sailors' action? Why, I suppose you might say yes. Well, you tell him that the sailor had no instructions to do any such thing. Demand the sailor's resignation. And Major General Pushing has been avoiding to see you for some time. Shall I tell him to come out here? All right. Jones goes into the White House and returns, announcing Major General Pushing, USA. Out marches General Pushing. He is accompanied at three paces by a pfeifer and drummer who play a spirited march. When the general reaches the president's table, the trio halt. The pfeife 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 shackles peculiar to drum majors. Good morning, General Pushing. Did they keep you waiting? General Pushing fiercely. Well, that's all right. We have been marking time. It's good for some of the muscles. How is the army? 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 a 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 is to have a war. 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. Who is it against? That we have not decided. We're going to take up the details tonight. 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 everyone, even for the pfeiffer and drummer. Jerry, at the phone. Connect me with the treasury department, please. Is this the treasury? This is President Frost. Oh, ha, I'm very well, things. No, he'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 out how much money there is in the treasury. Oh, I see. Oh, I see. Thanks. He hangs up the receiver. Jerry, worried. General Pushin, things seem to be a little confused over at the treasury. Data, the secretary of the treasury, isn't there right now. And they say nobody else knows much about it. General Pushin, disapprovingly. Hmm, I could put you on a nice war pretty cheap. I could manage a battle or two 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 data. General Pushin, meaningly. Being president is a sacred trust, you know, Mr. Frost. Well, I know it's a sacred trust, don't I? General Pushin, 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 Pushin, 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'd be the president for a while if you know so much about it. General Pushin, complacently. I've often thought that what this country needs is a military man at the head of it. All right then. You just take off that hat and coat. Jerry takes off his own coat. Jones rushes forward in alarm. If there's going to be a fight, hadn't we all better go into the billiard room? Jerry insistently to General Pushin. Take off that hat and coat. General Pushin aghast. But, Mr. President. Listen here. If I'm the president, you do what I say. General Pushin 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. 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 swagger's up and down the lawn, brandishing the sword. Then his eyes fall with distaste upon the general's shirt sleeves. Well, what are you moping around for? General Pushin, 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 Pushin, pleadingly. Mr. President, I've waited for this war for 40 years. You wouldn't take away my coat and hat just like that, just as we've got it almost ready. Jerry pointing to the shirt sleeves. That's an ass costume to be hanging around the White House in. General Pushin, brokenly. I can't help it, can I? Who took my coat and hat anyhow? If you don't like it, you can get out. General Pushin, sarcastically. Yes, nice lot of talking cause if I went back to the ward apartment looking like this. Where's your hiding coat, General? Oh, I just thought I'd come down to my suspenders this morning. 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 Pushin on the verge of tears. He took my coat and hat. Charlotte pointing to the general. Who is that man? General Pushin in a dismal whine. I'm Major General Pushin, I am. I don't believe it. Jerry uneasily. Yes, he is, Charlotte. The house 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, Charlotte. 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, reattires himself in the military garment. Jerry losing confidence under Charlotte's stare. Honest, everything's getting on my nerves. First it's some correspondent 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. No, it isn't, Charlotte. I'm gonna fix everything. I've got a firm grip on everything. Haven't I, Mr. Jones? I'm just nervous, that's all. General Pushin 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. Everybody's always saying that I'm gonna hear from them later. They want to kick me out of this job. That's what they want. They think I don't know. The people elected you, Mr. President, and the people want you. I'll accept the ones out in Idaho. Charlotte anxiously. Couldn't you be on the safe side and have yourself reduced to wise president or something? A news boy outside. Extra, extra, Idaho says, resign or be impeached. Was that news boy yelling something about me? Charlotte, witheringly. He never so much as mentioned you. In response to Mr. Jones' whistle, a full grown news boy 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 news boy pointing to Jerry's frock coat. I almost did one of them dress suits once. Jerry, not without satisfaction. Ah, I got six of them. I had to 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 them. I ain't got none. Well, much obliged. So long. The news boy goes out. Jones, reading over Jerry's shoulder. It says Idaho Flays treasury choice. Charlotte, why died? Does that mean they're going to flay data? Jones, looking at his watch. Senator Fish will be here any moment now. Well, all I know is that I show some spunk and not let them kick me out, even if I was the worst president they ever had. Listen, Charlotte, you mean to remind me of it every minute. 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 a state of Idaho. Fish, Timorously. Good morning, Mr. President. How are you? 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, DC. 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 him you won't resign, don't you? We won't resign. Well, then it's only right I tell you that Judge Fossil of the Supreme Court will bring a motion of impeachment at 3 o'clock this afternoon. He turns Melancholy eyes on Doris' 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. They don't know the man they're up against, do they, Mr. Jones? They certainly do not. Jerry lying desperately and not even convincing himself. I've got resources they don't know about. If you'll pardon the suggestion, I think the best move you could make, Mr. President, would be to demand your father's resignation immediately. Jerry incredulously. Put Dad out? Why, he used to work in a bank when he was young. And he knows all about the different amounts of money. 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. There's just one more man out there to see you and he says he came to do you a favor. His name is the Honorable Snooks, or Snooks. Ambassador from Irish Poland. What country's that? Irish Poland is 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. Show them all out here. There's only one. He goes into the White House, returning immediately. The Honorable Snooks, or Snooks. Ambassador to the United States from Irish Poland. The Honorable Snooks comes out through the swinging doors. His resemblance to Mr. Snooks, the bootlugger, 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. Got a nice house, ain't ya? Jerry, still depressed from recent reverses. Yeah. Why'd I? Jerry, as if he had just noticed it. Yeah. Why it? Snooks after a pause. Get dirty quick. Jerry, adopting an equally laconic manner. Have it washed. As your old woman. Jerry, uneasily. She's all right. Have a cigar? Snooks, taking the proffered cigar. Thanks. That's all right. I got a lot of them. That's some cigar. I got a lot of them. I don't smell that kind myself, but I got a lot of them. 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. That's swell. See this cane? The band around it, it's solid gold. Is that right? I thought maybe it was to keep the squirrels from crawling up. Abruptly. Need any liquor? I got a lot, you know? On account of being an ambassador. Gin, the mirth, bitters, absinthe. No, I don't. See that sign? I bet you never saw one like that before. I had it invented. Snooks. Board. Class. Switching the subject. I hear you made your old man's secretary of the treasury. My father used to work in a... You oughta made him official sanny claws. How you getting away with your job? Jerry, lying. Oh, fine, fine. You ought to see the military review that had for me last week. Thousands and thousands of soldiers, and everybody cheered when they saw me. Hardly. It was sort of inspiring. Oh, seeing you planting trees in the movies. Jerry, excitedly. Sure, I do that almost every day. There'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? Yeah. Jerry, now completely and childishly happy. Oh, had it made that way so that anybody passing by along the street can look in. Cheer them up, see? Sometimes they 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 on you? Jerry pulls out his watch. Snooks takes it, as though to inspect it more closely. Look here now, Mr. President. I've got a swell scheme for you. Jerry, trying to look keen. Let's hear it. You needn't got to think now, just because I'm a 100% Irish pole, that I ain't gonna do the other guy a favour once in a while. And I've got something smooth for you. He puts Jerry's watch in his own pocket. The nerve of the man. What is it? Snooks, confidentially. Islands. What islands? The buzzard islands. Jerry looks blank. Ain't you never heard of the buzzard islands? Jerry, apologetically. I never was any good at geography. I used to be pretty good in penmanship. Snooks, in horror. You ain't never heard of the buzzard islands? It's sort of a disagreeable name. The buzzard islands. Property of the country of Irish Poland. Garden spots. Flurry paradises in the middle of the Atlantic. Rainbow islands and milk and honey. Palms and pines. Smellin' with good smellin' woods. And high-priced spices. Full of animals with million-buck skins. And with birds that's got feathers that they had dives on Fifth Avenue would go nuts about. The folks in the islands. Swell-lookin', husky, square, rich. 100% buzzard dites. Jerry, startled. You mean buzzards? 100% buzzard dites. Crazy about their island, butter, milk, livestock, wives, and industries. Jerry, fascinated. Sounds sort of pretty, don't it? Pretty. Say it's smooth. Now here's my proposition. And take it from me. It's the real stuff. Impressively. The country of Irish Poland wants to sell you the buzzard islands. Cheap. Jerry, impressed. You're willing to sell him, eh? Listen, I'll be fair with you. I regret to say that at this point, he leans close to Jerry, removes the latter's stick pin and places it in his own tie. I've handed you the swellest proposition ever laid before a president since Andrew Jackson bought the population of Ireland from Great Britain. Yeah? Snooks, intently. Take it from me, press, and snap it up. Dead cheap. You're sure it's a good... Snooks, indignantly. Say, do you think an ambassador would tell you something that ain't true? Jerry, man to man. That's right, Mr. Snooks. I beg your pardon for that remark. Snooks, touching his handkerchief to his eyes. You hurt me, press. You hurt me, but I'll forgive you. They shake hands warmly. And now Jerry has an idea, a gorgeous idea. Why didn't he think of it before? His voice literally trembles as he lays his plan before Snooks. Honourable Snooks, listen, I'll tell you what I'll do. I'll take those islands and pay, oh, say, around million dollars for them on one condition. Snooks, quickly. Done. Name your condition. Jerry, breathlessly. The chill let me throw in one of the states on the trade. What state? The state of Idaho. How much do you want for it? Jerry, hastily. Oh, I'll just throw that in free. Snooks indicates Mr. Jones with his thumb. Get him to take it down. Jones takes pen in hand. During the ensuing conversation, he writes busily. Jerry, anxiously. The state of Idaho is just a gift, see? But you've got to take it. Suddenly the Honourable Snooks realizes how the land lies. He looks narrowly at Jerry, marveling at an opportunity so ready to his hand. Jerry to Jones. Here, get this down. We agree to buy the buzzard islands from the nation of Irish Poland for one million. Snooks interrupting. Two million. Two million dollars, on condition that Irish Poland will also incorporate into their nation the state of Idaho with all its people. They shouldn't get that, Jones, with all its people. I have it. The state of Idaho and 431,866 people, including Colored. Yes, including Colored. Snooks, craftily. Just a minute, Prez. This is state of Idaho. It's mostly mountains, ain't it? Jerry, anxiously. I don't know. Is it Mr. Jones? It has quite a few mountains. Snooks, hesitating. Well, now, I don't know if we better do it after all. Jerry, quickly. Three million. I'll tell you, I'd like to pull it off for you, Prez. But you see, a state like that has got to have upkeep. You take one of them mountains, for instance. You can't just let a mountain alone like you would a ocean. You've got to groom it. You've got to chop it down. You've got to explore it. Now, take that alone. You've got to explore it. Jerry, swallowing. Um, uh, four million. That's more like it. Now, these buzzard islands don't require no attention. You just have to let them alone. But you take the upkeep on a thing like the state of Idaho. Jerry, wiping his brow. Five millions. Sold. You get the buzzard islands and we get five million bucks in the state of Idaho. Got that down, Jones? On second thoughts. Jerry, in a panic. No, no, you can't get out of it. It's all down in black and white. Snooks, resignedly. All right. I must say, Mr. President, you turned out to be a real man. When I first met you, I wouldn't have thought it. But I'd been pleasantly surprised. He slapped Jerry heartily on the back. Jerry is so tickled at the solution of the Idaho problem that he feverishly seizes Snooks' hand. And even if Irish Poland gets stung on the deal, we'll put it through. Say you and me ain't politicians, fella. We're statesmen, real statesmen. You ain't got a cigarette about you, have you? Jerry hands him a cigarette case. Snooks, after taking one, returns the case to his own pocket. Jerry, enthusiastically. Send me a postcard, Ambassador Snooks. The White House, city will reach me. Postcard? Say lay off. You and me are pals. I'll do anything for a pal. Come on down to the corner and I'll buy you a cigar. Jerry to Mr. Jones. I guess I can go out now for a while. Oh, yes. Hang on to that treaty. And say, when the Secretary of the Treasury wakes up, tell them I've got to have $5 million right away. If you'll just come into the office for a moment, you could put your signatures on it right away. Jerry and the honorable Snooks go into the White House arm in arm, followed by Mr. Jones. Presently, Jerry can be seen in the window of the President's office. A moment later, the doors swing open again, this time for the tottering egress of data. Data, not without difficulty, arranges himself a place in the sun. He is preparing for his morning siesta, and indeed has almost managed to spread a handkerchief over his face when in through the gate comes Doris. Her eye falls on him and a stern purpose is born. Data, seeing her approach, groans in anticipation. Data, I want to speak to you. Data blinks up at her, weirdly. Data, I want to tell you something for your own good and for Jerry's good. You want Jerry to keep his position, don't you? Jerry's a fine boy. He was born to my second wife in 1800 and... Yes, I know how he was, but I mean no. No, I'll never have any more children. Children are hard to raise properly. This is aimed at her. Look at here, Data. What I think is the best thing to do is to resign your position. The... You're too old, you see, if you know what I mean. You're sort of, oh, not crazy, but just sort of feeble-minded. Data, who has caught one word? Yes, I am a little feeble. He dozes off. Doris, absorbed in her thesis. I don't mean you're crazy, don't get mad. I don't mean you go around thinking you're like Napoleon or a poached egg or anything like that, but you're sort of feeble-minded. Don't you understand yourself? Sort of simple. Data, waking up suddenly. Oh, how's that? Doris, infuriated. That's just the sort of thing I was talking about. Going to sleep like that when a person is trying to tell you something for your own son's good. That's just exactly what I mean. Data, puzzled, but resentful. I don't like you. You're a very, hmm, forward young girl. Your parents brought you up very unsuccessfully indeed. Doris, smugly. All right, you're just making me think so more than ever. Go right ahead. Don't mind me. Go right ahead. Then when you begin to really rave, I'll send for the lunatic asylum wagon. Data, with an air of cold formality. I'll ask you to excuse me. He wants to get to sleep. First thing you know, you take all the money in the treasury and hide it and forget where you put it. Data, succinctly. There isn't any money in the treasury. Doris, after a stunned pause. Just what do you mean by that statement? Data, drowsily. There isn't any money in the treasury. There was $7,000 left yesterday, but I worked from morning till night and now there isn't one red penny in there. You must be crazy. Data, he can scarcely keep awake. Hmm. Look at here. What do you mean? Have you been spending that money that doesn't belong to you, you know, on some fast woman? Data, as usual, he doesn't quite hear. Yes, it's all gone. I went down yesterday morning and I said to myself, uh, ratio, you got only $7,000 left and you got to work from morning till night and get rid of it. And I did. Doris, furious, but impressed at the magnitude of the crime. How much was there altogether? Altogether? I haven't the figures with me. Why, you old dumbbell, you, imagine an old man your age that hasn't had anything to do for 20 years but just sit around and think, going crazy about a woman at your age. With scornful pity. Don't you know she just made a fool of you? Data, shaking his finger at her. You must not talk like that. Be courteous and... Yes, and pretty soon some woman comes along and you get courteous with her to the extent of all the money in a treasury. Yes, that's one thing that stood me in good stead. My mother used to say to me, uh, ratio. Doris, paying no attention to him. What was her name? Her name was Roxanna. Where did she get hold of you? My mother? Your paramour. She used to say to me, uh, ratio. She probably used to say a lot more than that. Oh, I know how they handle old men like you. I've seen a lot of that. Slush is what appeals to old men like you. No, I said courtesy. You mean slush. What did she call you? Her old toodle-dums and all that sort of thing? How perfectly disgusting. Out comes Jerry now, just in time to catch Data's next remark and to realise that there's persecution in the air. Data, to Doris. It's been a hot day and I'll ask you to excuse me. I never liked you, you know. Say, Doris, why can't you leave Data alone? He's got more important things to think about than your new dresses in your silk stockings. Got something more important than silk stockings, has he? Ask him. Data's got a lot more to him than anybody ever gives him credit for. Haven't you, Data? Doris, excitedly. Yeah, yeah, all right. Wait till you hear what he's done now. Wait till you hear. To Data. Tell him what you did at your age. Some woman came up to him and said, her ratio. She gives an awe-inspiring imitation of a passionate woman. And he said, here. What woman did? Her name was Roxanna. Ask him where all the money in the treasury is, at his age. Jerry in growing alarm. Look at here, Doris. The old dumbbell. I take back what I said about your not being really crazy. To Jerry. Look out, he'll begin to rave. She pretends to be alarmed. Yes, Data, you're a poached egg. It's all right. I'll send for the lunatic asylum wagon. I've been working in the dark. I thought it best. You needn't tell us all the disgusting details. Please respect my engagement. You must have bought her about everything in the world. No wonder I can't get any good shoes in Washington. Jerry should have got you analysed. Jerry now begins to realise that something appalling has indeed happened. He sits down weekly. I was working in the dark. Well, Jerry should have analysed you in the dark. Jerry suddenly. Charlotte. Charlotte at the upper window. Stop screaming at me. Charlotte, come on out here. That has done something awful at his age. Hurry up out, Charlotte. You wouldn't want me to come out in my chemise, would you? It wouldn't matter. We'll be kicked out anyways. Has Dada been drinking? Worse than that. Some woman's got a hold of him. Don't let him go till I come down. I can handle him. Mr. Jones comes out. Dada, impressively. I think the world is coming to an end at three o'clock. Doris, wildly. We've got a maniac here. Go get some rope. Mr. Jones in horror. Are you going to hang him? Out rushes, Charlotte. The United States was the wealthiest country in all the world. It's easier for a camel to pass through a needle's eye than for a wealthy man to enter heaven. They all listen in expectant horror. So all the money in the treasury I have had destroyed by fire or dumped into the deep sea. We are all saved. Do you mean to say that you haven't even got five million dollars? I finished it up all yesterday. It was not easy. It took a lot of resourcefulness, but I did it. Jerry, in horror. But I've got to have five million dollars this afternoon or I can't get rid of Addo. And I'll be impeached. Dada, complacently. We're all saved. Jerry, wildly. You mean we're all lost? He sinks disconsolately into a chair and buries his face in his hands. Charlotte, who knew everything would go to pieces, stands over him with an, I told you so, air. Doris shakes her finger at Dada, who shakes his finger vigorously back at her. Mr. Jones, with great presence of mind, produces the cocktail shaker and passes around the consoling glasses to the violently agitated household. At two thirty, the horizontal sunlight is bright upon the White House lawn. Through the office window, the President can be seen, bent over his desk in an attitude of great dejection. And here comes the Honorable Snooks through the gate, looking as if he'd been sent for. Mr. Jones hurries forth from the White House to greet him. Did you sin for me, fella? Jones, excitedly. I should say we did, Honorable Snooks. Sit down, and I'll get the President. As Mr. Jones goes in search of the President, Dada comes in through the gate at a triumphant, tottering strut. He includes the Honorable Snooks in the splendor of his elation. Dada, jubilantly. Hooray! Hooray! I worked in the dark, but I won out. Snooks, with profound disgust. Well, if it ain't sanny claws. This is a great day for me, Mr. You see, the world is coming to an end. Well, sanny claws, everybody's got a right to enjoy themselves their own way. That's in strict confidence you understand. I wouldn't spoil the surprise for nothing. Out rushes Jerry. Jerry in great excitement. Honorable Snooks. Honorable Snooks. Dada, suddenly. Hooray! In at the finish. He tries to slap the Honorable Snooks on the back. But the Honorable Snooks steps out of the way, and Dada loses his balance. Snooks and Jerry pick him up. Jerry suspiciously. Dada, have you been drinking? Just a little bit. Just enough to fortify me. I never touched a drop before today. You're a naughty boy. Yes, I think I'll go in and rest up for the big event. He wanders happily into the White House. Jerry in a hushed voice. Honorable Snooks, Dada has done something awful. Snooks pointing after Dada. Him? He took all the money in the treasury and destroyed it. What type of talk is that? You trying to kid me? You see, he's a very religious man, Honorable Snooks. You mean you ain't got five million for me? Jerry shakes his head. Good night. This is a swell country. A bunch of Indian givers. There's no use cursing at me, Honorable Snooks. I'm a broken man myself. Say can the sob stuff and call up the treasury. Get him to strike off a couple billion dollars more. You're the president, ain't ya? Cheering up a little. Jerry goes to the telephone. Give me the treasury department. Say, this is President Frost speaking. I just wanted to ask you if you couldn't strike off a little currency, see? About five million dollars, see? And if you didn't know whose picture to put on him, you could put my picture on him, see? How God a good picture I just had taken. You can't strike any off. Well, I just asked you. Well, I just thought I'd ask you. Well, no harm done. I just asked you. It didn't hurt to ask, did it? He rings off despondently. It didn't hurt him to ask. Nothing do, ain't I? In comes Mr. Jones. It's all over, Mr. President. I've just received word that Chief Justice Fossil of the Supreme Court, accompanied by the Senate Committee on Inefficiency, is on his way to the White House. Jerry sits down, completely overcome. Jones retires. They're gonna throw you out on your ear, eh? Jerry, brooding. It's that low-mean bunch of people out in Idaho. Snooks, who has been ruminating on the situation, comes to a decision. Look at here, Mr. President. I'm gonna help you out. I'll pass up that five million bucks, and we'll make a straight swap of the Buzzard Islands for the State of Idaho. Jerry, in amazement. You'll give me the Buzzard Islands for the State of Idaho? Snooks nods. Jerry rings his hand in great emotion. At this point, Charlotte comes out of the White House. At the sight of the honorable Snooks, a somewhat disapproving expression passes over her face. Jerry, excitedly. Charlotte, Charlotte, this gentleman has saved me. Charlotte, suspiciously. Who is he? His name is the honorable Snooks, Charlotte. Snooks, under Charlotte's stern eye. Well, I guess I gotta be going. Won't you stay for my husband's impeachment? We're having a few people in. Out comes Doris, accompanied by Dada. Dada is in such a state of exultation, but much to Doris's annoyance, he is attempting a gavotte with her. Doris repulsing him. Say, haven't I got enough troubles having to throw over my fiancée without having you try to do your indecent old dances with me? Dada sits down and regards the heavens with a long telescope. Jerry has now recovered his confidence, and is marching up and down waving his arms and rehearsing speeches under his breath. Snooks taps Dada's head, and winks ludely at Charlotte and Doris. Honestly, everybody seems to be going a little crazy around here. Is Jerry going to be fired, or isn't he? He says he isn't, but I don't believe him for a minute. Jones comes out, followed by an excitable Italian gentleman with long musical hair. This gentleman said he had an appointment with Miss Doris. Who are you? I am Stutz Mozart's orangutan band. I am ordered to come here with my band at three o'clock to play high-class jazz at a young lady's wedding reception. I remember now. I did order him. It's supposed to be the best jazz band in the country. Jerry, to Stutz Mozart. Don't you know there's going to be a big political crisis here at three o'clock? We can't use you now, Mr. Stutz Mozart. Anyways, I had to throw over my fiancé on account of political reasons. Stutz Mozart, indignantly. But I have my orangutan band outside. Charlotte, her eyes staring. Real orangutans? Of course not. They just call it that because they look kind of like orangutans, and they play kind of like orangutans, sort of. I mean the way orangutans would play if they knew how to play it all. Jerry, to Stutz Mozart. Well, you'll have to get them away from here. I can't have a lot of senators and judges coming in and finding me with a bunch of men that look like orangutans. But I have been hired to play. Yes, but what do you think people would say? They'd say, yes, here's a fine sort of president we've got. All his friends look sort of like orangutans. You waste my time. You pay me, or else we play. Look at here. If you're one of these radical agitators, my advice to you is to go right back where you came from. I came from Hoboken. He goes threateningly out the gate. Jones announcing from the steps. Chief Justice Fossil of the Supreme Court, accompanied by a committee from the Senate. Charlotte, to Jerry. Speak right up to them. Show them you're not just a vegetable. Here they come. Chief Justice Fossil in a portentous white wig is walking ponderously at the head of the procession. Five of the six senators who follow him are large, grave gentlemen whose cutaway coats press in their swollen stomachs. Beside them, Senator Fish seems frail and ineffectual. The delegation comes to a halt before Jerry, who regards it defiantly, but with some uneasiness. To the President of the United States, greetings. Jerry, nervously. Greetings yourself. Mr. Jones has provided chairs, and the senators seat themselves in a row, with Judge Fossil in front. Fish looks miserably at Doris. The Honorable Snooks lurks in the shadow of the special tree. Mr. President, on the motion of the gentleman from Idaho. He points to Fish, who tries unsuccessfully to shrink out of sight. We have come to analyze you, with a view to impeachment. Jerry sarcastically. Oh, is that so? He looks for encouragement at Charlotte. Charlotte grunts. I believe that is the case. Senator Fish. Fish, nervously. Yes, but personally, I like him. Oh, you do, do you? She nudges Jerry. Beak right up to them like that. Oh, you do, do you? Remove that woman. No one pays any attention to his request. Now, Mr. President, do you absolutely refuse to resign on the request of the senator from Idaho? You're darn right I refuse. Well then, I... At this point, Mr. Stutz Mozart's orangutan band outside of the wall launches into a jovial jazz rendition of Way Down Upon the Suwani River. Suspecting it to be the national anthem, the senators glance at each other uneasily, and then, removing their silk hats, get to their feet one by one. Even Judge Fossil stands at respectful attention until the number dies away. That wasn't the star-spangled banner. The senators look confused. Doris, tragically. This was to have been my wedding reception day. Senator Fish begins to weep softly to himself. Judge Fossil, angrily to Jerry. This is preposterous, sir. You're a dangerous man. You're a menace to the nation. We will proceed no further. Have you anything to say before we vote on the motion made by the State of Idaho? Yes, he has. He's got a whole mouthful. This is the feature moment of my life. Cecil beat a meal, but shoot it with ten cameras. Remove these women. The women are not removed. Jerry, nervously. Gentlemen, before you take the step into your hands, I want to put my best foot forward. Let us consider a few aspects. For instance, for the first aspect, let us take, for example, the War of the Revolution. There was ancient Rome, for example. Let us not only live so that our children who live after us, but also that our ancestors who precede us and fought to make this country what it is. General applause. And now, gentlemen, a boy today is a man tomorrow. Or rather, in a few years. Consider the winning of the West. Daniel Boone and Kit Carson. And in our own time, Buffalo Bill and... And Jesse James. Prolonged applause. Finally, in closing, I want to tell you about a vision of mine that I seem to see. I seem to see Columbia. Columbia. Blindfolded. Recovered with scales. Driving the ship of state over the battlefields of the Republic into the heart of the Golden West and the cotton fields of the sunny South. Great applause. Mr. Jones, with his customary thoughtfulness, serves a round of cocktails. Judge Fossil, sternly. Gentlemen, you must not let yourselves be moved by this man's impassioned rhetoric. The State of Idaho has moved his impeachment. We shall put it to a vote. Listen here, Judge Fossil. A state has got to be part of a country in order to impeach anybody, don't they? Yes. Well, the State of Idaho doesn't belong to the United States anymore. A general sensation. Senator Fish stands up and sits down. Then who does it belong to? Snooks, pushing his way to the front. It belongs to the nation of Irish Poland. An even greater sensation. The State of Idaho is nothing but a bunch of mounds. I have traded it to the nation of Irish Poland for the buzzard islands. Mr. Jones hands the treaty to Judge Fossil. Fish, on his feet. Judge Fossil, the people of Idaho. Treason, treason! Sit down, fella. You're a subject at the nation of Irish Poland. Jerry, pointing to Fish. Those foreigners think they can run this country. The other senators shrink away from Fish. Judge Fossil to Fish. If you want to speak as a citizen of the United States, you'll have to take out a naturalization papers. I won't let him. I'm gonna take him with me. He's part of more property. He seizes the indignant Fish firmly by the arm, and pins a large, sold badge to the lapel of his coat. Doris, heartily. Well, I'm certainly glad I didn't marry a foreigner. Just at this point, when Jerry seems to have triumphed all around, there is the noise of a fife and drum outside, and General Pushing marches in, followed by his musical escort. The general is in a state of great excitement. Mr. President, I am here on the nation's business. War must be declared. Who is the enemy? The enemy is the nation of Irish Poland. All eyes are now turned upon snooks, who looks considerably alarmed. General Pushing raising his voice. On to the buzzard island. Hurrah, hurrah, down with Irish Poland. Now, Mr. President, all treaties are off. General Pushing looking scornfully at Jerry. He tried to trade the state of Idaho for some islands full of buzzards. Snooks indignantly. What's the idea? Is this a frame up to beat the nation of Irish Poland out of their rights? We want the state of Idaho. You want the buzzard islands, don't you? We can take them by force. We're at war. To the senators. We've ordered all stuffed buzzards to be removed from the Natural History Museums. Cheers. And domestic buzzards are now fair game, both in and out of season. More cheers. Buzzard domination would be unthinkable. Judge Fossil pointing to Jerry. And now, senators, how many of you vote for the impeachment of this enemy of the Commonwealth? The five senators stand up. Judge Fossil to Jerry. The verdict of a just nation. Is there anyone here to say why this verdict should not stand? Dada, who all this time has been absorbed in the contemplation of the heavens, suddenly throws down his telescope with a crash. Dada in a tragic voice. It's too late. Too late for the world to end this afternoon. I must have missed the date by 2000 years. Ringing his hands. I shall destroy myself. Dada tries to destroy himself. He produces a pistol, aims at himself and fires. He flounders down, but he has missed. Doris standing over him and shaking her finger. You miss everything. I'm going to send for the lunatic asylum wagon. If it'll come. Dada shaking his finger back at her. Your parents brought you up very unsuccessfully. Silence. I will pronounce sentence of impeachment on this enemy of mankind. Look upon him. They all look dourly at Jerry. Now, gentlemen, the astronomers tell us that in the far heavens, near the Southern Cross, there is a vast space called the hole in the sky, where the most powerful telescope can discover no comet, nor planet, nor star, nor sun. They all look very cold and depressed. Jerry shivers. Fish picks up Dada's abandoned telescope and begins an eager examination of the firmament. In that dreary, cold, dark region of space, the great author of celestial mechanism has left the chaos which was in the beginning. If the earth beneath my feet were capable of expressing its emotions, it would, with the energy of nature's elemental forces, heave, throw, and project this enemy of mankind into that vast region, there forever to exist in a solitude as eternal as, as eternity. When he finishes, a funeral silence falls. Jerry, his voice, shaken with grief. Well, Judge, all I've got to say is that, no matter what you've done, I wouldn't want to do all those things to you. Judge Fossil, thunderously. Have you anything more to say? Jerry, rising through his defeat to a sort of eloquent defiance. Yes. I want to tell you all something. I don't want to be president. A murmur of surprise. I never asked to be president. Why, why I don't even know how in hell I ever got to be president. General Pushing, in horror. Do you mean to say that there's one American citizen who does not desire the sacred duty of being president? Sir, may I ask then, just what do you want? Jerry, wildly. Yes. I want to be left alone. Outside the wall, Mr. Stutz Mozart's orangutan band strikes up the bee's knees. The senators arise respectfully and remove their hats, and General Pushing, drawing his sword, stands at the salute. Four husky baggage-smashers stagger out of the White House with the trunks of the Frost family, and hurry with them through the gate. Half a dozen assorted suitcases are flung after the trunks. The music continues to play. The senators continue to stand. The Frost family gaze at their departing luggage, each under the spell of a different emotion. Charlotte is the first to pick up her grip. As she turns to the senators, the music sinks to pianissimo, so her words are distinctly audible. With any satisfaction to you, I'm going to be a different wife to him from now on. From now on, I'm going to make his life perfectly miserable. Charlotte goes out to a great burst of jazz. Data, with some difficulty, locates his battered carpet bag. I find I miss the date by two thousand years. Eventually I will destroy myself. Data is gone now, hurried out between two porters, and Doris is next. With dignity, she selects her small but arrogant handbag. All I want to say is if Cecil B. DeMille ever saw the White House, he'd say, all right, that may do for the gardener's cultureage. Now I'll start building a real house. As she leaves, she tries desperately to walk out of step with the music and avoid the suggestion of marching. The attempt is not altogether successful. President Jerry Frost now picks up his bag. Jerry defiantly. Well, anyways, I showed you you couldn't put anything over on me. Glancing around, his eye falls on the special tree. He goes over and pulls it up by the roots. This was given to me by some natives. That signs mine too. I had it invented. He pauses. I guess you think I wasn't much good as a president, don't you? Well, just try electing me again. General Pushing, sternly. We won't. As a president, you'd make a good postman. At this sally there is a chorus of laughter. Then Charlotte's voice again. Does it come from outside the gate? Or mysteriously enough, from somewhere above? Charlotte, very distinctly. Shut the door. I can smell that stuff up here. A bewildered look comes into Jerry's eyes. He says, What? In a loud voice. Then with the tree in one hand and his grip in the other, he is hurried between two porters briskly toward the gate. While the orangutan band crashes into louder and louder jazz, and the curtain falls. End of Act Two, Act Three of the Vegetable by F. Scott Fitzgerald. This is a LibriVox recording. All LibriVox recordings are in the public domain. For more information or to volunteer, please visit LibriVox.org. Act Three Now we're back at the Frost's house. And it's a week after the events narrated in Act One. It is about nine o'clock in the morning, and through the open windows the sun is shining and great, brave squares upon the carpet. The jars, the glasses, the files of a certain memorable night have been removed. But there is an air about the house quite inconsistent with the happy day outside. An air of catastrophe. A profound gloom that seems to have settled even upon the library of wit and humor in the dingy bookcase. There is brooding going on upon the premises. A quick tat-tat-tat from outdoors. The clatter of someone running up the porch steps. The door opens and Doris comes in. Doris in a yellowish skirt with a knit jersey to match. Doris chewing faintly and delicately, what can surely be no more than a sheer wisp of gum. Doris calling, Charlotte. A voice broken and dismal from upstairs. Is that you Doris? Yeah, can I come up? The voice. It's Charlotte's. You'd scarcely have recognized it. I'll come down. Heard anything from Jerry? Not a word. Doris regards herself silently, but with interest, in a small mirror on the wall. In comes Charlotte, and oh, how changed from herself of last week. Her nose and eyes are red from weeping. She's chastened and depressed. Doris with cheerful pessimism. Haven't heard a word, eh? Charlotte lugubriously. No, not one. Doris impressed in spite of herself. Son of a gun, and he sneaked away a week ago tonight. It was that awful liquor, I know. He sat up all night, and in the morning he was gone. It's the funniest thing I ever heard of, his sneaking off this way. Say, Charlotte, I've been meaning to say something to you for a couple of days, but I didn't want you to get depressed. How could I possibly be any more depressed than I am? Well, I just wanted to ask you if you'd tried to do more yet. Charlotte gives a little scream. Wait a minute, get control of yourself. I simply think you ought to try it. If he's anywhere, you ought to locate him. Charlotte, wildly. Oh, he's not dead. He's not dead. I didn't say he was, did I? I didn't say he was. But when a fellow wanders out tight after drinking some of this stuff, you can't tell where you'll find him. Let me tell you, Charlotte, I've had more experience with this sort of thing than you have. The detective is coming to report this morning. Has he been combing the dives? You ought to have him comb the dives, Charlotte. I saw a picture last week that ought to be a lesson to any woman that loses her husband in a funny way like this. The woman in this picture lost her husband, and she just combed the dives, and there he was. Charlotte suspiciously. What was he doing? Some vampire was sitting on his lap in a cafe. Charlotte moans. But it does show that if you do have the dives combed, you can find him. That's what this woman did. There's where most men go when they wander out like that. Oh no, Jerry wouldn't go to the dives, or the morgue either. He's never drank or done anything like that till that night. He's always been so mild and patient. This is a new note from Charlotte. Doris, after a thoughtful pause. Maybe he's gone to Hollywood to go into movies. They say a lot of lost men turn up there. Charlotte brokenly. Don't know what to do. Maybe I'm re-responsible. He said that night he might have been the president if it hadn't been for me. He'd just been analysed, and they found he was p-perfect. Well, with no reflections on the dead or anything like that, Charlotte, he wasn't so wonderful as you make out. You can take it from me. He never would have been anything more than a postman if you hadn't made him be a railroad clerk. I'd have the dives combed. Charlotte, you logistically. He was a good husband. You'll get over it. What? Cheer up. In a year or so, you'll never know you ever had a husband. Charlotte bursting into tears at this. Back! Doris, reminiscently. Do you know this song? Do you know this song? She sings. A good man is hard to find. He'll always get the other kind, and when you think that he's your friend, you look around and find him scratching, grant some other hen. She has forgotten her ethical connection, and begins to enjoy the song for itself, when Charlotte interrupts. Charlotte in torture. Oh, don't! Oh, excuse me. I didn't think you'd take it personally. It's just about coloured people. Oh, do you suppose he's with some coloured women? Doris, scornfully. No. What you need is to get your mind off it for a while. Just say to yourself, if he's in a dive, he's in a dive. And if he's in Hollywood, he's in Hollywood. And if he's in the morgue... Charlotte, frantically. If you say that word again, I will go crazy. Well, in that place, then just say, I can't do anything about it, so I'm going to forget it. That's what you want to say to yourself. It's easy enough to say, but I can't get my mind. Yes, you can. Magnanimously. I'll tell you about what I've been doing. I've had a sort of scrap with Joseph. Joseph who? Joseph Fish. He's that fella I brought around here, only you didn't meet him. I told you about him, the one I got engaged to about ten days ago. His parents were in the mortuary business. Oh. Well, I've been trying to make him stop chewing gum. I offered to give it up if he would. I think it's sort of common when two people that go together are always whacking away at the piece of gum, don't you? There's a ring at the doorbell. That's the detective. Doris, prudently. Have you got that liquor hidden? I threw that horrible stuff away. Go let him in. Charlotte goes to the door and ushers in the detective. The detective wears an expression of profound sagacity upon his countenance. Have you found him? The detective, impressively. Mrs. Frost, I think so. Alive? Alive. Where is he? Wait. Be calm. I've had several clues, and I've been following them up one at a time. And I've located a man who answers to the first name of Jerry that I think is your husband. Where did you find him? He was picked up trying to jimmy his way into a house on Crest Avenue. Good heavens. Yep. And his name is Jerry. He had it tattooed on his arm. Good God. But there's one thing that's different from your description. What color is your husband's hair? Brown. Brown. Are you sure? Am I sure? Of course I'm sure. The detective, to Doris. Do you collaborate that? When he left here, it was brown. Well, this fellow's hair was red. Oh, it's not Jerry then. It's not Jerry. Doris, to Charlotte. Well, no. How do you know? Maybe. She turns to the detective. You see, this fellow have been drinking some of this funny liquor you get around here sometimes, and it may just have turned his hair red. Charlotte, to the detective. Oh, do you think so? I never heard of a case like that. I knew a fellow whose hair was turned white by it. I knew one, too. What was the name of the fellow you knew? Did this man claim to be my husband? No, madam. He didn't. He said he had two wives out in Montana, but none that he knew of in these parts. But, of course, he may have been bluffing. It doesn't sound like Jerry to me. But you can identify him by that tattoo mark. Charlotte, hastily. Oh, he never had one. Are you sure? Oh, yes. The detective, his face falling. Oh, well, then, he's not our man, because this fellow's tattoo marks are three years old. Well, that's a disappointment. That's a great disappointment for me. I've wasted some time over this man. I'd been hoping he'd do. Charlotte, hastily. Oh, no, he wouldn't do at all. I'll have to have the right man, or I won't pay you. Well, now then, I've been following up another clue. Did your husband ever have aphasia? Oh, no, he's always been very healthy. He had some skin trouble about. He doesn't mean that, Charlotte. Aphasia is when a man runs off and commits murder and falls in love with the young girl under another name. Oh, no, he's never done anything like this ever before. Suppose you tell me exactly what did happen. Well, I told you he'd been drinking something that had spirits of nitrogen in it. Spirits of nitrogen. That's what the man said. It was sympathetic gin that this man had persuaded Jerry into buying. Yes. And he had been talking all evening about all the things he could have done if he hadn't stood in his way. He has some examination he'd just taken. Doris, explaining. A psychical examination. The detective, wisely. I see. And my sister came over with the man she's going to marry, and she came up to see me, and when she came down, Jerry was asleep in his chair. Well, I didn't go down. I wish I had now. And my sister here and her fellow went away. Then I went to bed, and it seems to me I could hear Jerry talking to himself in his sleep all night. I woke up about twelve, and he was saying something loud, and I told him to shut the door because I could smell that awful sympathetic gin way upstairs. Yes. And that's all. When I came down next morning at seven, he was gone. The detective, rising. Well, Mrs. Frost, if your man can be located, I'm going to locate him. Have you thought of combing the dives? What? Have you combed the dives? It seems to me that I'd make the rounds of all the dives, and I wouldn't be a bit surprised if you see this man with somebody sitting on his knee. The detective to Charlotte. Does he run to that? Charlotte hurriedly. Oh, no. Oh, no. Doris to Charlotte. How do you know? A brisk knock at the door. Doris opens it eagerly, admitting a small, fat, gray-haired man in a state of great indignation. The detective to Charlotte. Is this the pursuit? The man sternly. You are speaking to Mr. Pushing. I employ, or did employ, the man who lives in his house. Charlotte wildly. Oh, where is he? That's what I came here to find out. He hasn't been at work for a week. I'm going to let him go. You ought to be ashamed of yourself. He may be dead. Dead or alive, he's fired. I've had him analyzed. He didn't have any ambition, and my analyzer gave him nothing but a row of goose eggs. Ma! I don't care. He's mine. Doris correcting her. Was mine. Maybe you could tell me something about his habits in business hours. If you'll come along with me, I'll show you his analyzed record. We're having it framed. Contemptuously. Good morning. He goes out. The detective, after a nod at Charlotte and Doris, follows him. Well, I should think you'd be encouraged. Why? Well, the detective found a fellow that's something like him. The same first name, anyway, that shows they're getting warm. Somehow it doesn't encourage me. Uncertain steps on the stairs. Dada appears, wearing a battered hat and carrying a book under his arm. Hello, Dada. Where are you going? Dada, hearing vague words. Hmm. He's going down to the library. Dada, in spirited disagreement. No, you were wrong that time. I'm not going to the park. I'm going to the library. Doris, sternly. Where do you think your son is? The... Doris, louder. Where do you think Jerry is by this time? Dada, to Charlotte. Didn't you tell me he was away? Charlotte nods drearily. Dada, placidly. Hasn't come back yet. No, we're having to dive scomed. Well, don't worry. I remember I ran away from home once. It was in 1846. I wanted to go to Philadelphia and see the zoo. I tried to get home, but they took me and locked me up. Doris, to Charlotte. In the monkey house, I bet. Dada, he missed this, thank God. Yes, that's the only time I ever ran away. But this is a more serious thing, Dada. Boys will be boys. Well, it looks like a nice day. Charlotte, to Doris. He doesn't care. He doesn't even understand what it's all about. When the detective searched his bedroom, he thought it was the plumber. He understands. Sure you do, don't you, Dada? You understand what it's all about, don't you, Dada? Dada, aggravatingly. The... Oh, let him go. He makes me nervous. Maybe he could think out some place where Jerry's gone. He's supposed to think so much. Well, good afternoon. I think I'll go down to the library. Dada goes out by the front door. Listen, Charlotte, I was going to tell you about Joseph. To get your mind off yourself, don't you remember? Yes. I've gotten sort of tired of him. Honestly, I ought to get myself psychoanalyzed. Why don't you throw him over then? You ought to know how by this time. Of course, having been unlucky in your own marriageable experience, you aren't in a position to judge what I should do. Do you love him? Well, not... not especially. Then throw him over. I would, except for one thing. You see, it'd be sort of hard. No, it wouldn't. Yes it would. It wouldn't be any cinch. Why? Well, you see, I've been married to him for three days. Charlotte astounded. What? That isn't very long, but you see, in marriage every day comes. Well, then you can't throw him over. It's next to impossible, I guess. Was it a secret marriage? Yes, there was nobody there but I and Joseph and Defelida did it, and I'm still living at home. You see, this girl that Joe was keeping waiting to see whether he was going to marry me or not got impatient and said she couldn't be kept waiting any longer. It made her sort of nervous. She couldn't eat her meals. So you got married, and now you're tired of him? No, not exactly that, but it just sort of makes me uncomfortable, Charlotte, to know that you can't throw over the man you've got without causing a lot of talk. Suppose he took to drink or something. You know, everybody can't get rid of their husbands as easy as you did. One husband was always enough for me. One may be all right for you, Charlotte, because you were a monographist, but supposing Rodolf Valentino, or the Prince of Wales, or John D. Rockefeller was to walk in here and say, Doris, I've worshipped you from a distance on account of the picture that you sent to the fame and fortune contest of the movie magazine that got left out by accident or lost or something. Will you marry me? What would you say, Charlotte? I'd say no. I'd say give me back my journey. Would you let having a husband stand in the way of your life's happiness? I tell you, I wouldn't. I'd say to Joe, you run up to the store and buy a bag of peanuts and come back in about 20 years. I would, Charlotte. If I could marry Douglas Fairbanks, I'd get rid of Joseph in some peaceful way, if I could. But if I couldn't, I'd give him some glass cuff drops without a minute's hesitation. Doris! And I told Joseph so, too. His marriage business is all right for narrow-minded people, but I'd like to be where I can throw over a fellow when it gets to be necessary. If you had Jerry, you wouldn't feel that way. Why, can't you see, Charlotte? That's the way Jerry must have felt. Charlotte, overcome. Rises to go. And, Charlotte, I don't want to depress you, but if he is, if it turns out that he's in the mo- in that place, I know where you can get some simply stunning mourning for- Charlotte begins to weep. Why, what's the matter? I just thought it'd cheer you up to know you could get a cheap. You'll have to watch your money, you know. Charlotte hurries from the room. I wonder what's the matter with her? Joseph Fish, outside. Oh, Doris. Doris goes to the window. How did you know I was here? Fish, outside. They told me at your house. Can I command? Yes, but don't holler around so. Haven't you got any respect for the missing? Fish comes in. Doris, I'm awfully sorry about- Oh, Joseph, haven't you got any sense? Sitting there last night, everything was perfect. And just when I was feeling sentimental, you began talking about embalming in the twilight. And I was just about to take out my removable bridge. I'm sorry. Have they found your sister's husband yet? No. Has he gone away permanently or for good? We don't know. We're having the divescombed. Listen, has anyone in your family ever had aphasia? What's that? Where you go off and fall in love with girls and don't know what you're doing. I think my uncle had that. Sort of dazed? Well, sort of. When there was any women around, he got sort of dazed. Doris, thoughtfully. I wonder if you could inherit a thing from your uncle. She removes her gum secretly. What are you chewing, Joe? Oh, just an old piece of something I found in my mouth. It's gum. I thought I asked you not to chew gum. It doesn't look clean-cut for a man to be chewing gum. You haven't got any sense of what's nice, Joseph. See here, suppose I was at a reception and went up to Mrs. Astor or Mrs. Vanderbilt or somebody, like this. She replaces her own gum in her mouth. She needs it for her imitation. How do you do, Mrs. Vanderbilt? Chew. Chew. What do you think she'd say? Do you think she'd stand it? Not for a minute. Well, when I start going with Mrs. Vanderbilt will be plenty of time to stop. From outside is heard the sound of a metallic whistle, a melodious call in C major. What's that? Don't ask me. It's pretty. It must be some kind of bird. The whistle is repeated. It is nearer. There it is again. Doris goes to the window. It's only the postman. I never heard a postman with a whistle like that. He must be a new one on this beat. That's too bad. The old one used to give me my meal wherever I met him, even if he was four or five blocks from my house. The sound again. Just outside the door now. I'll let him in. She goes to the door and opens it. The figure of the new postman is outlined in the doorway against the morning sky. It is Jerry Frost. But for a particular reason neither Doris nor Joseph Fish recognize him. He is utterly changed. In this gray uniform his once flabby figure appears firm, erect, even defiant. His chin is up. The office stoop has gone. When he speaks his voice is full of confidence, with perhaps a touch of scorn at the conglomerate weaknesses of humanity. Good morning. Would you like some mail? Doris taken somewhat aback. Why, sure. I guess so. It's a nice morning out. You two ought to be out walking. Fish, blankly. Is this number two on two seven? If it is, I've got a good-looking lot of mail for you. Doris with growing interest. What do you mean a good-looking lot of mail? What do I mean? Well, I mean it's got variety, of course. Rummaging in his bag. I got eight letters for you. Say, you're new on this beat, aren't you? Yes, I'm new, but I'm good. He produces a handful of letters. I'm the best one they ever had. How do you know? Did they tell you? No, I just feel it. I know my job. I can give any other mailman stamps and postcards and beat him with bundles. I'm just naturally good. I don't know why. I never heard of a mailman being good. They're mostly all good. Some professions anybody can get into them, like business or politics, for instance, but you take postmen. They're like angels. They sort of pick them out. Witheringly. They not only pick them out, they select them. Fish, fascinated. And you're the best one? Jerry, modestly. Yes, I'm the best one they ever had. He looks over the letters. Now here's what I call a clever ad. Delivered a lot of these this morning. Children like them, you know. They're from the carpet company. Let's see it. He takes the ad eagerly. Isn't that a nice little thing? And I got two bills for you here. I'll hide those, though. Still, maybe you want to clear up all your accounts. Some people like to get bills. The old lady next door wanted to get hers. But I gave her three, and you think there were checks. Anyways, these two don't look very big from the outside anyhow. But of course, you can't tell from the outside. Let me see them. Let me see them, too. They squabble mildly over the bills. The thing is for everybody in the house to write what they guess is the amount of the bill on the outside of the envelope. And then when you open the envelope, the one who gets the closest has to pay the bill. Or he could get a prize? Something like that. He winks at Doris. And here's a couple of postcards. They're sort of pretty ones. This one's the Union Station at Buffalo. Let me see it. And this one says Xmas Greetings. It's four months late. To Doris. I guess these are for you. No, they're for my sister. Well, I haven't read what's written on the back. I'll never do. I hope it's good news. Doris inspecting the backs. No, they're from an aunt or something. Anything else? Yes, here's one more. I think it's one of the neatest letters I've had this morning. Now, isn't that a cute letter? I call that a cute letter. He weighs it in his hand and smells it. Smell it. It does smell good. It's a perfume ad. Say, that sure does smell good. Well, I've done pretty well by you this morning. Maybe you got a letter for me. No, there's none today. Funny thing. I came here leaving that pink letter with a little girl down the street who looked as if she needed one pretty bad. I thought that maybe it was really meant for her and just had the wrong name and address on by mistake. It would have tickled her. I get tempted to leave mail where it really ought to go instead of where it's addressed to. Mail ought to go to people who appreciate it. It's hard on a postman, especially when he's the best one they ever had. I guess it must be. Yeah, it must be tough. They're both obviously fascinated. Well, there's somebody in this house who needs to write letter something awful. If you get one that looks as if it might do for her, you could leave it by here. Is that so? Well, that's too bad. I'll certainly keep that in mind. The next one I think will do. I'll leave it by here. Thanks. I've got one of these special delivery love letters for a girl around the corner, and I want to hurry up and give it to her so I have to see her grin when she gets it. It's for Miss Doris. Doris, interrupting. That's me. Give it to me now. Sure. Say, this is lucky. He starts to hand it to her. Say, listen, why are you like a stenographer? Me? Yes. I don't know. Why? Because I say to you, take a letter. Fish wildly amused. Ha, ha, ha, ha. Jerry with some satisfaction. That's a good one, isn't it? I made that one up this morning. Joseph, I asked you to have some respect for the missing. To Jerry. You see, there's a fella missing here, and it's his wife that needs the letter. Fish jealously. Who's your letter from? Doris reading it. It's from my lost fiance. It says he didn't mean to drink the perfume. But the label was off to bottle, and he thought it was Bayrun. My God. Will you forgive him? Don't worry, my boy. Bayrun up a fume. He killed a love with the first swallow. He goes toward the door. Goodbye. I'll try to find that letter for the lady here that needs it so bad. Goodbye, and thanks. Let me open the door. He opens the door. Jerry goes out. Doris and Fish stare at each other. Isn't he wonderful? He's a peach of a fella, but... I know what you're going to say. That you've seen him somewhere before. I'm trying to think where. Maybe he's been in the movies. I think it's that he looks like some fella I was engaged to once. He's some mailman. The nicest one I ever saw. Isn't he for you? By far. Say, Charlie Chaplin's down at the Bijou. I don't like him. I think he's vulgar. Let's go and see if there's anything artistic. Fish makes an indistinguishable frightened noise. What's the matter? I've swallowed my gum. It ought to teach you a moral. They go out. Charlotte comes in drearily. She glances first eagerly, then listlessly at the letters, and throws them aside. Kling! The doorbell. She starts violently, runs to open it. It is that astounding product of our constitution, Mr. Snooks. Charlotte, in horror. Oh, what do you want? Snooks, affably. Come on in, lady. Is your husband around? No. What have you done with him, you beast? Snooks, surprised. Say, what's bought new, lady? My husband was all right until you came here with that poison. What have you done with him? Where is he? What did you give him to drink? Tell me, or I'll scream for the police. Tell me, tell me. Lady, I ain't seen your husband. You lie. You know, my husband has run away. Snooks, interested. Say now, has he? I had a hunch he would sooner or later. You made him. You told him to that night after I went out of the room. You suggested it to him. You never have thought of it. Lady, you got me wrong. Think where is he? If I'm wrong, find him. Snooks, after a short consideration. Have you tried the morgue? Oh, don't say that word. Oh, he ain't in the morgue. Probably some Jane's got hold of him. She'll send him home and she gets all his dough. He's at a booth like you. He's been kidnapped. Maybe he's joined the Marine Corps. How so ever, if he ain't here, I guess I'll be moving on. What do you want of him now? Do you want to sell him some more wood alcohol? Lady, I don't handle no wood alcohol. But I've found a way of getting the grain alcohol out of iodine and practically eliminating the poison. Just leaves a faint, brownish tinge. Queen. All right, I'll beat it. So he beats it. Charlotte's getting desperate from such encounters. With gathering nervousness, she wanders about the room, almost collapsing when she comes upon one of Jerry's coats hanging behind a door. Scarcely aware of what she's doing, she puts on the coat and buttons it close, as if imagining that Jerry is holding her to him in the brief and half-forgotten season of their honeymoon. Outside, a storm has come up. It has grown dark suddenly, and a faint drum of thunder lengthens into a cataract of doom. A louder rolling now and a great snake of lightning is seen in the sky. Charlotte, lonesome and frightened, hurriedly closes the windows. Then in sudden panic, she runs to the phone. Summit 3-5-3. Hello, this is me. This is Charlotte. Is Doris there? Do you know where she is? Well, if she comes in, tell her to run over. Everything's getting dark and I'm frightened. Yes. Maybe somebody will come in, but nobody goes out in the storm like this. Even the policeman on the corner has gotten under a tree. Well, I'll be all right. I'm just lonesome, I guess, and scared. Goodbye. She rings off and stands silently by the table. The storm reaches its height. Simultaneously with a terrific burst of thunder that sets the windows rattling, the front door blows open suddenly, letting in a heavy gust of rain. Charlotte is on the verge of hysterics. Then there is a whistle outside, the bright, mellow whistle of the postman. She springs up, clasping her hands together. Jerry comes in, covered with a rain cape dripping water. The hood of the cape partially conceals his face. Jerry, cheerfully. Well, it certainly is a rotten day. Charlotte, starting at the voice. It's awful. But I heard there was a lady here that was expecting a letter. And I had one that I thought due, so no rain or anything could keep me from delivering it. Charlotte, greedily. A letter for me? Let me have it. He hands it to her, and she tears it open. It's from Jerry. She reads it quickly. Is it what you wanted? Charlotte, allowed, but to herself. It doesn't say where he is. It just says that he's well and comfortable and that he's doing what he wants to do and what he's got to do. And he says that doing his work makes him happy. With suspicion. I wonder if he's in some dive. If I wrote him a letter, do you think you could find him with it, Mr. Postman? Yes, I can find him. I want to tell him that if he'll come home, I won't nag him anymore. That I won't try to change him and that I won't fuss at him for being poor. I'll tell him that. Charlotte, again talking to herself. I was trying to nag him into something, I guess. Before we were married, I always thought there must be some sort of mysterious, brave things he did when he wasn't with me. I thought that maybe sometimes he'd sneak away to hunt bears. But when he'd sneak away, it was just a roll of dice with cigars down at the corner. It was in forests. It was just toothpicks. Suppose that he was nothing but a postman now. Like me. I'll be proud of him if he's a postman, because I know he always wanted to be one. He'd be the best postman in the world and there is something kind of exciting about being the best. It wasn't so much that I wanted him to be rich, I guess, but I wanted him to do something he wouldn't always be beat at. I was sort of glad he got drunk that night. It was about the first exciting thing he ever did. You never would have told him that. Charlotte, stiffening. I should say I wouldn't off. Jerry rises. I'll try to get him here at six o'clock. I'll be waiting. Quickly. Tell him to stop by his door and get some robbers. I'll tell him. Goodbye. Goodbye. Jerry goes out into the rain. Charlotte sits down and bows her head upon the table. Again there are steps on the porch. This time it is Dada, who comes in closing a dripping umbrella. Dada, as one who has passed through a great crisis. I... I borrowed an umbrella from a man at the library. Jerry's coming back. Is he? A man at the library was kind enough to lend me his umbrella. In the second shelf. As he pulls it from its place, several other books come with it and tumble to the floor. After a glance at Charlotte, he kicks them under the bookcase. Then, with his Bible under his arm, he starts for the stairs, but is attracted by something bright on the first stair, and attempts, unsuccessfully, to pick it up. Hello. Here's a nail that looks like a tin-scent piece. He goes upstairs. When he is halfway up, there is a sound as if he had slipped back a notch. Then silence. Charlotte, raising her head. Are you all right, Dada? No answer. Dada is heard to resume his climb. Oh, I could only sleep till six o'clock. The storm has blown away, and the sun is out and streaming in the window, washing the ragged carpet with light. From the street there comes once again, faint now and far away, the mellow note of the postman's whistle. Charlotte, lifting her arms rapturously. The best postman in the world! Curtain. End of Act Three. End of The Vegetable by F. Scott Fitzgerald