CARMODY (_grudgingly_). Take a chair, Doctor, and tell me what's wrong
with Eileen.
GAYNOR (_seating himself by the table--gravely_). Your daughter is very
seriously ill.
CARMODY (_irritably_). Aw, Doctor, didn't I know you'd be sayin' that,
anyway!
GAYNOR (_ignoring this remark--coldly_). Your daughter has tuberculosis
of the lungs.
CARMODY (_with puzzled awe_). Too-ber-c'losis?
GAYNOR. Consumption, if that makes it plainer to you.
CARMODY (_with dazed terror--after a pause_). Consumption? Eileen?
(_With sudden anger._) What lie is it you're tellin' me?
GAYNOR (_icily_). Look here, Carmody! I'm not here to stand for your
insults!
CARMODY (_bewilderingly_). Don't be angry, now, at what I said. Sure
I'm out of my wits entirely. Eileen to have the consumption! Ah,
Doctor, sure you must be mistaken!
GAYNOR. There's no chance for a mistake, I'm sorry to say. Her right
lung is badly affected.
CARMODY (_desperately_). It's a bad cold only, maybe.
GAYNOR (_curtly_). Don't talk nonsense. (Carmody _groans._ Gaynor
_continues authoritatively._) She will have to go to a sanatorium at
once. She ought to have been sent to one months ago. The girl's been
keeping up on her nerve when she should have been in bed, and it's
given the disease a chance to develop. (_Casts a look of indignant
scorn at_ Carmody, _who is sitting staring at the floor with an
expression of angry stupor on his face._) It's a wonder to me you
didn't see the condition she was in and force her to take care of
herself. Why, the girl's nothing but skin and bone!
CARMODY (_with vague fury_). God blast it!
GAYNOR. No, your kind never realises things till the crash
comes--usually when it's too late. She kept on doing her work, I
suppose--taking care of her brothers and sisters, washing, cooking,
sweeping, looking after your comfort--worn out--when she should have
been in bed--and---- (_He gets to his feet with a harsh laugh._) But
what's the use of talking? The damage is done. We've got to set to work
to repair it at once. I'll write to-night to Dr. Stanton of the Hill
Farm Sanatorium and find out if he has a vacancy. And if luck is with
us we can send her there at once. The sooner the better.
CARMODY (_his face growing red with rage_). Is it sendin' Eileen away
to a hospital you'd be? (_Exploding._) Then you'll not! You'll get that
notion out of your head damn quick. It's all nonsense you're stuffin'
me with, and lies, makin' things out to be the worst in the world. I'll
not believe a word of Eileen having the consumption at all. It's
doctors' notions to be always lookin' for a sickness that'd kill you.
She'll not move a step out of here, and I say so, and I'm her father!
GAYNOR (_who has been staring at him with contempt--coldly angry_). You
refuse to let your daughter go to a sanatorium?
CARMODY. I do.
GAYNOR (_threateningly_). Then I'll have to report her case to the
Society for the Prevention of Tuberculosis of this county, and tell
them of your refusal to help her.
CARMODY (_wavering a bit_). Report all you like, and be damned to you!
GAYNOR (_ignoring the interruption--impressively_). A majority of the
most influential men of this city are behind the Society. Do you know
that? (_Grimly._) We'll find a way to move you, Carmody, if you try to
be stubborn.
CARMODY (_thoroughly frightened, but still protesting_). Ara, Doctor,
you don't see the way of it at all. If Eileen goes to the hospital,
who's to be takin' care of the others, and mindin' the house when I'm
off to work?
GAYNOR. You can easily hire some woman.
CARMODY (_at once furious again_). Hire? D'you think I'm a millionaire
itself?
GAYNOR (_contemptuously_). That's where the shoe pinches, eh? (_In a
rage._) I'm not going to waste any more words on you, Carmody, but I'm
damn well going to see this thing through! You might as well give in
first as last.
CARMODY (_wailing_). But where's the money comin' from?
GAYNOR (_brutally_). That's your concern. Don't lie about your poverty.
You've a steady well-paid job, and plenty of money to throw away on
drunken sprees, I'll bet. The weekly fee at the Hill Farm is only seven
dollars. You can easily afford that--the price of a few rounds of
drinks.
CARMODY. Seven dollars! And I'll have to pay a woman to come in--and
the four of the children eatin' their heads off! Glory be to God, I'll
not have a penny saved for me old age--and then it's the poor-house!
GAYNOR (_curtly_). Don't talk nonsense!
CARMODY. Ah, doctor, it's the truth I'm tellin' you!
GAYNOR. Well, perhaps I can get the Society to pay half for your
daughter--if you're really as hard up as you pretend. They're willing
to do that where it seems necessary.
CARMODY (_brightening_). Ah, Doctor, thank you.
GAYNOR (_abruptly_). Then it's all settled?
CARMODY (_grudgingly--trying to make the best of it_). I'll do my best
for Eileen, if it's needful--and you'll not be tellin' them people
about it at all, Doctor?
GAYNOR. Not unless you force me to.
CARMODY. And they'll pay the half, surely?
GAYNOR. I'll see what I can do--for your daughter's sake, not yours,
understand!
CARMODY. God bless you, Doctor! (_Grumblingly._) It's the whole of it
they ought to be payin', I'm thinkin', and them with bags of money.
'Tis them builds the hospitals and why should they be wantin' the poor
like me to support them?
GAYNOR (_disgustedly_). Bah! (_Abruptly._) I'll telephone to Doctor
Stanton to-morrow morning. Then I'll know something definite when I
come to see your daughter in the afternoon.
CARMODY (_darkly_). You'll be comin' again tomorrow? (_Half to
himself._) Leave it to the likes of you to be drainin' a man dry.
(Gaynor _has gone out to the hall in rear and does not hear this last
remark. There is a loud knock from the outside door. The Doctor comes
back into the room carrying his hat and overcoat._)
GAYNOR. There's someone knocking.
CARMODY. Who'll it be? Ah, it's Fred Nicholls, maybe. (_In a low voice
to_ Gaynor _who has started to put on his overcoat._) Eileen's young
man, Doctor, that she's engaged to marry, as you might say.
GAYNOR (_thoughtfully_). H'mm--yes--she spoke of him.
(_As another knock sounds_ Carmody _hurries to the rear._ Gaynor,
_after a moments indecision, takes off his overcoat again and
sits down. A moment later_ Carmody _re-enters, followed by_ Fred
Nicholls, _who has left his overcoat and hat in the hallway._
Nicholls _is a young fellow of twenty-three, stockily built,
fair-haired, handsome in a commonplace, conventional mould. His
manner is obviously an attempt at suave gentility; he has an
easy, taking smile and a ready laugh, but there is a petty,
calculating expression in his small, observing, blue eyes. His
well-fitting, ready-made clothes are carefully pressed. His whole
get-up suggests an attitude of man-about-small-town
complacency._)
CARMODY (_as they enter_). I had a mind to phone to your house, but I
wasn't wishful to disturb you, knowin' you'd be comin' to call
to-night.
NICHOLLS (_with disappointed concern_). It's nothing serious, I hope.
CARMODY (_grumblingly_). Ah, who knows? Here's the doctor. You've not
met him?
NICHOLLS (_politely, looking at_ Gaynor, _who inclines his head
stiffly_). I haven't had the pleasure. Of course, I've heard----
CARMODY. It's Doctor Gaynor. This is Fred Nicholls, Doctor. (_The two
men shake hands with conventional greetings._) Sit down, Fred, that's a
good lad, and be talkin' to the Doctor a moment while I go upstairs and
see how is Eileen. She's all alone up there.
NICHOLLS. Certainly, Mr. Carmody. Go ahead--and tell her how sorry I am
to learn she's under the weather.