room for a moment and I come back to find you yelling and wanting
to kill me.
GRANT
(_Still dazed_)
No. It wasn’t true: I don’t want to get rid of you. I....
JERRY
(_In a matter-of-fact tone_)
I do wish you’d get over the habit of acting all your plays out.
The neighbors will think you and I aren’t happy. You’d better come
to bed and get some rest.
GRANT
I--I couldn’t sleep just now.
(_He goes over to the table and sees the manuscript of_ THE
LONELY WAY _untouched. He stands trying to collect himself._)
JERRY
It’s upset you, reading over THE LONELY WAY?
GRANT
(_Half to himself_)
That’s strange.
JERRY
Then what is the matter?
GRANT
(_Evasively as he sits down wearily_)
I--I was reading over the notices.
JERRY
I should have thought they’d soothe you, not get you so excited.
Though there is one that put me in a terrible temper. (_He looks at
her quickly._) Why did you conceal the _Gazette_ notice from me?
(_Smiling, she shows it to him: he takes it._) Did you think this
would worry me because Arthur Black said THE SAND BAR didn’t live
up to the promise of your other plays?
GRANT
(_Half to himself_)
And he was the only one who liked the others that failed.
JERRY
But it is outrageous of him to say you’d deserted your ideals. I
have half a mind to write to the Editor.
GRANT
(_With a thought_)
Would it mean so very much to you if it were true?
JERRY
Of course it would.
GRANT
(_Defensively_)
But, after all, Jerry, does it make any difference to anybody but
the artist whether he sells out or not?
JERRY
But, dear, _I_ think you’ve just begun to reach your ideals.
GRANT
Just begun?
JERRY
Yes. I never told you before because I didn’t want to discourage
you when we were so hard up. But, Grant dear, I never liked all
those other plays--especially THE LONELY WAY. They seemed unworthy
of you. THE SAND BAR is the first play that really seems true to
life.
GRANT
(_Staring at her_)
Really true to life?
JERRY
Yes. And I hope from now on you’ll go on writing the plays that
will make people feel happier and....
GRANT
(_Suddenly bursting out in an ironic laugh_)
I’ve got it. I’ve got it.
JERRY
What?
GRANT
The curtain raiser Trebaro wants. I’ll call it THE MASK. No. MASKS!
That’s the title. I’ll show _them_ whether I’m dead or not.
JERRY
What are you talking of?
GRANT
The theme of my play: that so long as an artist knows what he is
doing with his art he is alive: that the only thing which can kill
him is self-deception.
JERRY
Dear me, you’re going to write another play nobody will understand?
GRANT
(_Contemptuously_)
Why should I care whether _anybody_ will understand it?
JERRY
But Trebaro won’t produce it, dear.
GRANT
Oh yes, he will: he said he’d produce anything I wrote no matter
how good it was.
JERRY
(_Seeing him eagerly go to his typewriter_)
You’re going to begin it _now_?
GRANT
Yes. _Now._ I can write it off at a sitting.
JERRY
To-night--of all nights?
GRANT
Yes. As Tom said: while the “glow” is here. Now that I’m free. I’ll
show them whether I’m dead or not. I’ll use their very words. I’ll
make it bite.
JERRY
(_Completely lost_)
I don’t understand you or what you are talking about.
GRANT
(_Gives her a look_)
You don’t need to understand now, Jerry; THE SAND BAR has released
you.
JERRY
(_Hurt_)
I never heard you talk like this before. You’re unkind.
GRANT
(_Putting paper in machine_)
I don’t mean to be, dear; only my nerves are on edge.
JERRY
(_Begins to cry_)
I can see that. You’ve no regard for my feelings.
GRANT
I have my work....
JERRY
You seem so far off all of a sudden. To-night of all nights! Just
when you’ve made your first real success!
GRANT
(_More testily_)
Please. Please, Jerry. I won’t be able to write this if I have to
think of anything else.
(_He begins to write. He looks about the room showing he is
describing it._)
“The scene is the living-room in a flat. The doorway from the
public stairs opens immediately upon it without the intervening
privacy of a small hallway....”
(_He murmurs as he goes on, striking the keys very rapidly.
She stands looking at him--hurt and wondering what it means:
but he is absorbed. Then she slowly goes to the kerosene
heater and lights it. She looks at him a moment._)
JERRY
I guess I won’t wait up for you to-night. I’m cold.
(_She goes out, hardly controlling herself. He continues for
a moment. Then he gets up, still absorbed, and closes the
door after her. He resumes his work with the glow of intense
creation on his face._)
[CURTAIN]
[A] Copyright by George Middleton. See back of title page.
JIM’S BEAST
THE PEOPLE
BRONTOSAURUS, _a fossil_.
SARAH, _a scrubwoman_.
PROFESSOR POHL, _a curator_.
ROBERT HOOD, _a member of the Legislature_.
ELIZABETH LIVINGSTON, _a seeker of sensations_.
MRS. CORNELIUS VAN DYKE, _a social leader_.
MRS. JAMES MORROW, _a wealthy woman_.
ROBERT LIVINGSTON, _a good citizen_.
LARRY ANDERSON, _a doughboy_.
SCENE
_A corner in the Hall of Paleontology of a Public Museum; late one
afternoon._
JIM’S BEAST[B]
_Two arched passageways are in back, and between them, on the
wall, is a large dark plaster cast which may be a replica of the
famous Dinosaur footprints in Brownstone. Beneath this is a low
bench. At the extreme right, as one enters from back, there are two
cases, just visible, in which are fossil bones and casts. There
is a bench near them and an aisle between which leads off to the
windows beyond, suggested by the soft streams of sunlight which
shoot over the tops of the cases to the_ BRONTOSAURUS _opposite.
Only the dull-colored flat skull and a portion of the neck of this
venerable fossil are to be seen, projecting about a yard or two. It
stands seven feet above its low platform, which is surrounded by a
railing. On this is a slanted sign which describes it. Its size,
its grimness and the light which rests upon it make it dominate
everything. The remainder of the huge dinosaur is masked by a high
screen at its left, upon which hangs a map indicating by its varied
horizontal shades of color, the various geological strata and
periods._
_When the curtain slowly lifts_, SARAH, _a scrubwoman, is on her
knees, mopping the floor with long practised sweeps_.
_She is fifty, heavy, with a dull tired face lined by years of
physical toil. Though her hair is tightly drawn back and tied in a
knot, several long wisps fall across her eyes as she leans forward
over her work; and she continually pushes these back with her arm,
since her hands are wet and soapy._
_As she wrings her rag savagely she mumbles to herself in a rich
Irish brogue._
SARAH
Scrub. Mop. Scrub. (_She looks up at the_ BRONTOSAURUS.) Keepin’
watch on me, too, ye dirty heathen. Grinnin’ there every day at me
a-scrubbin’ and moppin’.
(_She raises the rag, in momentary revolt, as though she were
about to throw it at the skull. But she stops sullenly as she
mechanically resumes her work._)
Ye dirty heathen ... me a-scrubbin’....
(_As she finds a hairpin and sticks it in her hair_, PROF.
POHL _enters, carrying a small plaster cast in which is
embedded the outlines of a fossil_.
PROF. POHL, _the curator, is a short, round-shouldered man
nearing sixty. He is absorbed in his scientific interest,
devoid of conscious humor and fundamentally inclined to be
impatient with anything that has not been dead for at least
several million years._)
PROFESSOR
Good afternoon, Sarah.
SARAH
(_Mumbling half to herself resentfully, as he walks over where she
has just mopped_)
And I was just after a-moppin’ up that place.
PROFESSOR
You’re cleaning up earlier than usual.
SARAH
Wipe ’em up as they comes, says I: it’s easier in the end.
PROFESSOR
But I’m expecting over two hundred soldiers here this afternoon.
SARAH
(_Astonished_)
Here? What’s the matter with ’em?
PROFESSOR
They’re slightly wounded.
SARAH
Shure: that explains it.
PROFESSOR
All the theaters are entertaining them so I’ve invited them here.
I thought the soldiers might enjoy having me personally show them
through the paleontological section. Dr. Taylor has volunteered to
explain the mummies.
SARAH
What between these dead ’uns and them ould ladies the boys’ll be
havin’ a foine time, all roight.
PROFESSOR
I thought it might be edifying, too.
SARAH
(_As she resumes her mopping_)
They’ll be a-makin’ more work for me; but footprints is footprints
no matter who makes ’em.
PROFESSOR
(_Looking in case at the right_)
Now where’s that card?
(_He tries to get key out of pocket to open case but he is
afraid of breaking the cast._)
Sarah, will you assist me?
SARAH
Me! Touch one of them dead corpses?
PROFESSOR
No; no. That’s so; you’d get them wet.
(_She watches him as he goes to bench and lays the cast down
carefully on the handkerchief he has spread for it. Then he
goes over to case, opens it with a key, returns for cast and
puts it with care and affection in the case._)
SARAH
Ye’d be a-thinkin’ it was a baby ye was puttin’ to bed.
PROFESSOR
(_Admiring them_)
All these are my children, Sarah.
SARAH
(_Mumbling as she looks up at the_ BRONTOSAURUS)
I’d see a doctor about it if I was their mother.
PROFESSOR
There. (_He closes the case._) That’s a very rare Pterodactyl.
(_She is somehow not impressed._) I’ve reconstructed it from five
tiny bones found in Oregon.
SARAH
(_Wringing mop with a contemptuous look at him_)
Why go to all that trouble?
PROFESSOR
I’m afraid you wouldn’t understand. I study fossils, Sarah, because
it is my profession--just as scrubbing is yours.
SARAH
Do ye have to do it?
PROFESSOR
No; I chose it. I’m very happy in it.
SARAH
What I’d loike to know is why I’ve got to scrub and mop all the
day? _I_ don’t do it for pleasure.
PROFESSOR
(_Failing to see the human analogy_)
Somebody’s got to keep the Museum clean.
SARAH
(_Seeing him blow off some clay from bench_)
Yes. Some o’ us is born to wipe up other people’s dirt, and some’s
born to make it. (_Wiping it._) Why can’t everybody clean up his
own dirt, says I? Maybe they wouldn’t be makin’ so much.
PROFESSOR
I daresay you’re right. (_Over by the_ BRONTOSAURUS.) You’ve
forgotten to run your rag over this platform.
SARAH
(_Rebelliously_)
Ye don’t git me inside th’ rail with that dirty heathen.
PROFESSOR
The superintendent tells me he’s had to remind you every day.
SARAH
(_Her revolt rises_)
If I’ve got to go inside there alone ye can tell ’im I’m through.
There’s plenty of dirty places in the world what needs cleanin’
and if I’ve got to mop I’m going to do me own pickin’ of dirt an’
places.
PROFESSOR
(_Firmly_)
But you forget you’re paid for this.
SARAH
If ye’ll pardon my saying so I ain’t paid to go rubbin’ agin’
the slats of that dirty heathen loike you. I’m paid me two an’ a
quarter a day to wash up people’s tracks. Two an’ a quarter a day,
mind ye, by this place what owns jewels and things they wraps up
in satins and laces what honest people could git some comfort out
of--and the cost of livin’ mountin’ high as St. Peter himself.
PROFESSOR
(_Impatiently_)
If you won’t keep it clean, there are plenty of scrubwomen who will.
SARAH
Ye care more for the looks of that dirty heathen than ye do for my
feelin’s.
PROFESSOR
(_Outraged_)
Sarah! You forget there are only a few fossils like this in
existence! I don’t want to have to report you for lack of respect.
SARAH
Shure, it’s not ye I’m not respectin’--it’s that other inhuman
beast.
PROFESSOR
Now be a sensible girl and run your rag over it.
SARAH
(_Sullenly as her revolt subsides_)
Oh, all roight. It’s seein’ it in me sleep I am as it is.
(_She slowly picks up the mop and pail and goes under the
rail, cautiously rubbing the platform with wide stretched
arms._)
PROFESSOR
Around the feet, Sarah.
SARAH
They’re so big it’s glad I am they’ve put a brass rail around ’im
so he can’t be prowlin’ about at night trackin’ the place up. It’s
bad enough some of the people what come here to see him.
PROFESSOR
But you have less to clean up than some of the other girls.
(_Sighing._) So few people wander in this out of the way section.
SARAH
Ye don’t think anyone would be fool enough to look at these corpses
for pleasure, do ye?
PROFESSOR
I suppose not.
SARAH
Even though it means more work to my poor back, I’m goin’ to ask
to be put over where the cases of butterflies are. When I was
a-scrubbin’ around them I could be thinkin’ that I was out among
the daisies, instead of hangin’ ’round a morgue.
PROFESSOR
That’s much better, Sarah. (_Gazing in admiration at the fossil._)
Wonderful specimen--wonderful!
(ROBERT HOOD _enters. He is a well set-up, attractive young
man about thirty. As he glances impatiently at his watch,
it is evident he is ill at ease and under the stress of an
unusual emotion. Though he carries a Museum catalogue it is
soon apparent he has come for a rendezvous._
SARAH _soon disappears from view--scrubbing_.)
HOOD
I beg your pardon. Is this where the Brontosaurus lives?
PROFESSOR
Yes. (_Proudly_) This is the Brontosaurus.
HOOD
(_Indifferently_)
Oh, is it? Thanks.
PROFESSOR
Are you interested in fossils?
HOOD
Fossils?--Oh, yes; but only the living ones.
PROFESSOR
Oh, then you’ve come to see the Hoatzins?
HOOD
(_Impatiently_)
Not especially.
PROFESSOR
They’re in the ornithological section. Curious, isn’t it, when
people think fossils are so remote, that to-day in the thorn bushes
along the Berbice River there should be a small living bird who
swims, creeps, climbs, dives and can duplicate within a few minutes
the processes of evolution through the centuries. Mr. Beebe calls
them “living fossils”; so when you said....
HOOD
(_Again looking at his watch_)
It’s very interesting.
PROFESSOR
Their wing formation somewhat resembles the Archæopteryx. We have a
cast of the Solenhofen specimen, if you....
HOOD
I have a catalogue. I’d like to study them myself, quietly at
first, if you don’t mind.
(_He sits down on the bench at back and opens the catalogue.
The_ PROFESSOR _is offended, gives him a look and goes out.
The minute he has gone_, HOOD _arises, takes several steps
about as though looking for someone_. SARAH _has entered with
her pail and watches him. She stands there, a worn and abject
figure._ HOOD _takes out his watch again_.)
SARAH
I beg ye pardon?
HOOD
(_Startled a moment_)
Eh?
SARAH
Do ye be havin’ the toime about ye?
HOOD
My watch says four. But I think it must be fast.
SARAH
(_As she wearily crosses_)
Thank ye, sir.
HOOD
(_A bit anxiously_)
When does the Museum close?
SARAH
For ye or for me?
HOOD
Why, for me; of course.
SARAH
Ye’ll hear the bell in a half-hour; it’s not long after that I’ll
be a-pullin’ up these shades.
HOOD
Thanks.
SARAH
(_Pointedly as she begins to wash up his footsteps_)
If ye need more toime to _look_ at the animals ye may be doin’ it,
as the Professor is expectin’ a whole regiment of soldiers.
HOOD
(_Vexed_)
Coming _here_? I thought nobody ever came here?
SARAH
Ye mustn’t be surprised at anythin’ in a museum. All the strange
animals ain’t behind the railin’s.
(_She gives him a knowing look and finally goes out of sight,
mopping down the aisle. He takes a step impatiently and then
sits in back and opens catalogue aimlessly as he sees_ MRS.
CORNELIUS VAN DYKE _and_ MRS. JAMES MORROW _enter from back.
They do not notice him at first._
MRS. VAN DYKE _is a harmless middle-aged woman who throughout
life has comfortably relied on her blood instead of her
brains. She hides the absence of the latter by a calm and
superior imperturbability._
_Her companion_, MRS. JAMES MORROW, _is younger; obviously
nouveau riche, she has achieved a successful manner, most of
which is dexterously expressed in her lorgnette_.
_Both women are handsomely gowned and proclaim to the
observer flaunting wealth._)
MRS. VAN DYKE
I’m sure we’ve lost our way.
MRS. MORROW
The attendant said keep turning to the right.
MRS. VAN DYKE
I can’t say it’s my idea of ancient jewelry.
MRS. MORROW
No. But if we dressed up at Mrs. Bilton’s ball like some of these
animals, we’d certainly make a hit.
MRS. VAN DYKE
It might suit you, dear; but I think I’ll wear at least some
jewelry. I’m sure there must be wonderful old pieces in the museum
I can get Tiffany to copy in time. I must find something original.
MRS. MORROW
(_Looking absently at_ HOOD _through her lorgnette_)
Dear me, this is a terrible place--full of monsters.
MRS. VAN DYKE
I can’t say they’re very showy. (_Glancing at the_ BRONTOSAURUS.)
What an ugly animal! What is it?
MRS. MORROW
(_Reading sign_)
It’s a Bron--(_Not able to pronounce it and turning away_) I left
my reading-glasses at home. You try.
MRS. VAN DYKE
(_After studying it a moment_)
Oh, yes: I’ve heard of them. (_More closely._) Why, that looks like
your husband....
MRS. MORROW
(_Interrupting, as she turns quickly to the fossil_)
My husband? That?
MRS. VAN DYKE
(_Looking more closely_)
Yes. It _is_ your husband’s name. (_Reading_) “Donated by James
Morrow.”
MRS. MORROW
Why this must be Jim’s beast!
MRS. VAN DYKE
Jim’s beast?
(HOOD _covertly shows a bit of interest in spite of his more
pressing impatience over their presence_.)
MRS. MORROW
I knew there was something here Jim wanted me to see. He donated
$250,000 to the museum last year. He said they’d bought some old
animal with it.
MRS. VAN DYKE
I can’t say I admire his taste. I thought he went in for horses.
MRS. MORROW
Of course, it’s Jim’s own money; but it does seem a bit extravagant
to turn all that money into old bones.
MRS. VAN DYKE
Yes; when he might buy so many nicer things you could wear.
MRS. MORROW
Jim’s been awfully generous to me; though, of course, now that the
war’s over we’ve got to hold in a bit. He hasn’t any more army
contracts, you know. (_Sighing_) It certainly was wonderful while
it lasted.
MRS. VAN DYKE
I shouldn’t worry about it if I were you. Why, even this beast
would look like a piece of bric-a-brac in that new house he gave
you.
MRS. MORROW
(_The hand of_ SARAH _mopping in the aisle is seen_. MRS.
MORROW _is startled_.)
What’s that?
MRS. VAN DYKE
Oh, it’s only an old scrubwoman.
MRS. MORROW
They might wait till the museum closed before they splash about
spoiling our gowns.
MRS. VAN DYKE
Well, if we’re ever going to see that ancient jewelry before we’re
as old as it is, I suppose we’d better try and find it.
MRS. MORROW
But I’ll have to tell Jim I came especially to see his beast: he’ll
want to know what it looks like, the poor dear!
(ELIZABETH LIVINGSTON _enters. She is a woman of such an
indefinite age that she must be past her early thirties.
Handsome, well-groomed and yet a bit hectic, her secret
is that she is a born intriguanté and likes to see men
feverish._
_She sees_ HOOD: _he sees her: the two women catch this
exchange of glances, though_ HOOD _instantly resumes reading
and_ BESS _goes quickly to the case opposite not to betray
she is there to meet_ HOOD.
_The two women exchange significant glances._ HOOD _looks up
and catches_ MRS. MORROW _eyeing him through her lorgnette.
He rises in question._)
MRS. MORROW
(_To cover it_)
I beg pardon. Do _you_ happen to know where they keep the ancient
jewelry?
HOOD
(_Politely_)
I think it’s to the right.
MRS. VAN DYKE
But that’s what the other man said.
HOOD
Have you tried the long hall?
MRS. MORROW
But _which_ hall?
HOOD
(_Obviously trying to get rid of them_)
The very _furthest_ hall.
MRS. MORROW
Oh.... (_She turns to_ MRS. VAN DYKE.) The very furthest hall, he
said. (_Aside to her as they turn_) I’m afraid we’re _de trop_. I’m
sure it’s....
MRS. VAN DYKE
I thought so, too; and with a different tame robin this time. (_As
she turns and looks at the_ BRONTOSAURUS.) I’m glad I won’t look
like Jim’s beast when I’m dead.
MRS. MORROW
Well, dear, we’ll never be found in a museum at any rate.
MRS. VAN DYKE
(_As they go up_)
I don’t know. I’m most dead already.
(MRS. MORROW _gives a look at_ BESS _through her lorgnette.
They go out obviously gossiping about her._
HOOD _takes a step to see they have gone. Then he turns
tensely._)
HOOD
Bess!
BESS
Oh, Bob!
HOOD
Dearest!
BESS
Be careful. Somebody may see us. I’m sure those women....
HOOD
(_With extravagant expression_)
I’d like the whole world to see us. I can’t stand this much longer.
Bess, I want you.
BESS
I know. Sh!
(SARAH _comes from out of aisle, goes out of sight, obviously
to clean another aisle. But she has seen them and gives a
knowing smile as though such rendezvous were not unusual._)
HOOD
It can’t go on like this.
BESS
Aren’t you satisfied with what we’ve already had?
HOOD
(_Unconsciously playing up to the situation_)
I want all or nothing--the _you_ all the world has, too. I....
BESS
Yes? Say it. I like to hear you say it.
HOOD
I want you to be my wife. (_Intensely_) Bess! Bess! Will you?
BESS
Give me time to think.
HOOD
But it can’t go on like this ... having me meet you in strange
places ... always being afraid. Bess, you love me, don’t you?
BESS
Oh, Bob!
HOOD
You’ve never loved anybody before as you love me?
BESS
Oh, no; you’re so fine and strong and....
HOOD
Then why are you afraid?
BESS
The world ... my world ... your world....
HOOD
But you wouldn’t be the first who....
BESS
Don’t drive me to the wall!
HOOD
You must decide.
BESS
I’m thinking of you. I’m older than you. In time, perhaps, you....
HOOD
Never.
BESS
How you say it!
HOOD
I love you. I’ve never loved any woman before. I’ll never love any
woman again.
BESS
My dear boy! I must go now. I just wanted to see you, to hear you
say you love me.
HOOD
And I came because I wanted a definite answer.
BESS
Wait. In time. Don’t drive me to the wall.
HOOD
(_Heroically_)
I tell you I’ll kill myself if....
BESS
Bob! Do you care as much as that?
HOOD
Yes. Nothing else matters.
BESS
But your career--your position?
HOOD
You are more than all that. What will you give up for me?
BESS
Sh! Somebody’s coming. (_In a different tone, mistress of
herself._) It must have taken a good many years to collect these
specimens.
(RAY LIVINGSTON _has come in on this, walking slowly down
with eyes that glitter for a moment on seeing them_.
_He is about sixty. The tightly drawn skin on his face
clearly reveals the bones beneath. He is an aristocratic,
calm, collected man: the essence of deliberate politeness.
When he comes to them he acts as though he were surprised._)
LIVINGSTON
Bess. This is a surprise.
BESS
Ray?
LIVINGSTON
Do you come here often?
BESS
I was just strolling through to look at some ancient jewelry when I
happened to meet Mr. Hood.--This is my husband. Mr. Hood.
(_As_ LIVINGSTON _crosses slowly and shakes his hand with
cold studied courtesy_, HOOD _gives him a sickly smile, ill
at ease in an unaccustomed situation_.)
LIVINGSTON
I’m charmed to meet you. I’ve heard Mrs. Livingston speak of you.
Let me see, where was it?
BESS
(_Casually, mistress of herself_)
Perhaps it was after I first met him at Judge Wilton’s. Mr. Hood is
in the Legislature, you know.
LIVINGSTON
To be sure. I remember your photograph in all the newspapers.
(_Half playfully_) But you’re rather a young man for such a
conspicuous and responsible office.
HOOD
(_Trying to be at ease_)
One soon grows older up there.
LIVINGSTON
(_Pleasantly_)
I hope that means wiser; for wisdom, I’m told, is only a matter of
perspective, and its secret is finding the relative importance of
things. (_With a smile._) But, of course, _every_thing must seem
vitally important at the beginning. Just as each moment of life was
_once_ the most important thing to these animals. (_Before_ HOOD
_can answer_.) Are you interested in fossils?
HOOD
(_Eyes him_)
I’m trying to understand their meaning and significance.
LIVINGSTON
Do you find it difficult? I see you have a catalogue. Do you come
here to study them?
BESS
(_Trying with her skill to relieve the situation_)
Mr. Hood was just telling me he was planning to introduce a bill in
the Legislature to--to extend the wings.
LIVINGSTON
To extend the wings? What of?
BESS
Of the Museum, of course.
LIVINGSTON
Indeed?
HOOD
(_Lying in spite of himself_)
Yes.
BESS
(_With a reassuring smile_)
He thinks it’s a bit cramped here.
LIVINGSTON
I quite approve. Space is what is needed. But you’ll find it
difficult to get money from the Legislature for such purposes. I’ve
tried myself.
HOOD
Oh, are you interested in museums?
LIVINGSTON
Didn’t you tell him, Bess, about the museum I had planned?
BESS
(_Beginning to detect his intention_)
No; it slipped my mind.
LIVINGSTON
(_Playfully reproving her_)
And I had such a personal interest in it, too.
HOOD
Was it a museum for fossils?
LIVINGSTON
It was to prevent people from becoming fossils before their time.
It was a museum of safety appliances.
HOOD
Industrial?
LIVINGSTON