When the Arrow-collar man
Meets the D’jer-kiss girl
On the smokeless Sante Fé
Her Pebeco smile
Her Lucile style
De dum da-de-dum one day--
(_She changes to a whistle and leans forward to turn on the taps,
but is startled by three loud banging noises in the pipes. Silence for
a moment--then she puts her mouth down near the spigot as if it were a
telephone_)
JULIE: Hello! (_No answer_) Are you a plumber? (_No answer_)
Are you the water department? (_One loud, hollow bang_) What do
you want? (_No answer_) I believe you’re a ghost. Are you? (_No
answer_) Well, then, stop banging. (_She reaches out and turns on
the warm tap. No water flows. Again she puts her mouth down close to
the spigot_) If you’re the plumber that’s a mean trick. Turn it on
for a fellow. (_Two loud, hollow bangs_) Don’t argue! I want
water--water! _Water_!
(_A young man’s head appears in the window--a head decorated with a
slim mustache and sympathetic eyes. These last stare, and though they
can see nothing but many fishermen with nets and much crimson ocean,
they decide him to speak_)
THE YOUNG MAN: Some one fainted?
JULIE: (_Starting up, all ears immediately_) Jumping cats!
THE YOUNG MAN: (_Helpfully_) Water’s no good for fits.
JULIE: Fits! Who said anything about fits!
THE YOUNG MAN: You said something about a cat jumping.
JULIE: (_Decidedly_) I did not!
THE YOUNG MAN: Well, we can talk it over later, Are you ready to go
out? Or do you still feel that if you go with me just now everybody
will gossip?
JULIE: (_Smiling_) Gossip! Would they? It’d be more than
gossip--it’d be a regular scandal.
THE YOUNG MAN: Here, you’re going it a little strong. Your family
might be somewhat disgruntled--but to the pure all things are
suggestive. No one else would even give it a thought, except a few old
women. Come on.
JULIE: You don’t know what you ask.
THE YOUNG MAN: Do you imagine we’d have a crowd following us?
JULIE: A crowd? There’d be a special, all-steel, buffet train leaving
New York hourly.
THE YOUNG MAN: Say, are you house-cleaning?
JULIE: Why?
THE YOUNG MAN: I see all the pictures are off the walls.
JULIE: Why, we never have pictures in this room.
THE YOUNG MAN: Odd, I never heard of a room without pictures or
tapestry or panelling or something.
JULIE: There’s not even any furniture in here.
THE YOUNG MAN: What a strange house!
JULIE: It depend on the angle you see it from.
THE YOUNG MAN: (_Sentimentally_) It’s so nice talking to you like
this--when you’re merely a voice. I’m rather glad I can’t see you.
JULIE; (_Gratefully_) So am I.
THE YOUNG MAN: What color are you wearing?
JULIE: (_After a critical survey of her shoulders_) Why, I guess
it’s a sort of pinkish white.
THE YOUNG MAN: Is it becoming to you?
JULIE: Very. It’s--it’s old. I’ve had it for a long while.
THE YOUNG MAN: I thought you hated old clothes.
JULIE: I do but this was a birthday present and I sort of have to wear
it.
THE YOUNG MAN: Pinkish-white. Well I’ll bet it’s divine. Is it in
style?
JULIE: Quite. It’s very simple, standard model.
THE YOUNG MAN: What a voice you have! How it echoes! Sometimes I shut
my eyes and seem to see you in a far desert island calling for me. And
I plunge toward you through the surf, hearing you call as you stand
there, water stretching on both sides of you--
(_The soap slips from the side of the tub and splashes in. The young
man blinks_)
YOUNG MAN: What was that? Did I dream it?
JULIE: Yes. You’re--you’re very poetic, aren’t you?
THE YOUNG MAN: (_Dreamily_) No. I do prose. I do verse only when
I am stirred.