MURRAY. Don't I, though? Wait till you've been here three months or
four--when the gap you left has been comfortably filled. You'll see
then!
EILEEN (_angrily, her lips trembling_). You must be crazy to say such
things! (_Fighting back her tears._) Oh, I think it's hateful--when you
see how badly I feel!
MURRAY (_in acute confusion. Stammering_). Look here, Miss Carmody, I
didn't mean to---- Listen--don't feel mad at me, please. My tongue ran
away with me. I was only talking. I'm like that. You mustn't take it
seriously.
EILEEN (_still resentful_). I don't see how you can talk. You
don't--you can't know about these things--when you've just said you had
no family of your own, really.
MURRAY (_eager to return to her good graces_). No. Of course I don't
know. I was just talking regardless for the fun of listening to it.
EILEEN (_after a pause_). Hasn't either of your sisters any children?
MURRAY. One of them has--two of them--ugly, squally little brats.
EILEEN (_disapprovingly_). You don't like babies?
MURRAY (_bluntly_). No. (_Then with a grin at her shocked face._) I
don't get them. They're something I can't seem to get acquainted with.
EILEEN (_with a smile, indulgently_). You're a funny person. (_Then
with a superior, motherly air._) No wonder you couldn't understand how
badly I feel. (_With a tender smile._) I've four of them--my brothers
and sisters--though they're not what you'd call babies, except to me.
Billy is fourteen, Nora eleven, Tom ten, and even little Mary is eight.
I've been a mother to them now for a whole year--ever since our mother
died (_Sadly._) And I don't know how they'll ever get along while I'm
away.
MURRAY (_cynically_). Oh, they'll--(_He checks what he was going to say
and adds lamely_)--get along somehow.
EILEEN (_with the same superior tone_). It's easy for you to say that.
You don't know how children grow to depend on you for everything.
You're not a woman.
MURRAY (_with a grin_). Are you? (_Then with a chuckle._) You're as old
as the pyramids, aren't you? I feel like a little boy. Won't you adopt
me, too?
EILEEN (_flushing, with a shy smile_). Someone ought to. (_Quickly
changing the subject._) Do you know, I can't get over what you said
about hating your work so. I should think it would be wonderful--to be
able to write things.
MURRAY. My job had nothing to do with writing. To write--really
write--yes, that's something worth trying for. That's what I've always
meant to have a stab at. I've run across ideas enough for stories--that
sounded good to me, anyway. (_With a forced, laugh._) But--like
everything else--I never got down to it. I started one or two--but--either
I thought I didn't have the time or---- (_He shrugs his shoulders._)
EILEEN. Well, you've plenty of time now, haven't you?
MURRAY (_instantly struck by this suggestion_). You mean--I could
write--up here? (_She nods. His face lights up with enthusiasm._) Say!
That is an idea! Thank you! I'd never have had sense enough to have
thought of that myself. (Eileen _flushes with pleasure._) Sure there's
time--nothing but time up here----
EILEEN. Then you seriously think you'll try it?
MURRAY (_determinedly_). Yes. Why not? I've got to try and do something
real some time, haven't I? I've no excuse not to, now. My mind isn't
sick.
EILEEN (_excitedly_). That'll be wonderful!
MURRAY (_confidently_). Listen. I've had ideas for a series of short
stories for the last couple of years--small town experiences, some of
them actual. I know that life--too darn well. I ought to be able to
write about it. And if I can sell one--to the _Post_, say--I'm sure
they'd take the others, too. And then--I should worry! It'd be easy
sailing. But you must promise to help--play critic for me--read them
and tell me where they're rotten.
EILEEN (_pleased, but protesting_). Oh, no, I'd never dare. I don't
know anything----
MURRAY. Yes, you do. You're the public. And you started me off on this
thing--if I'm really starting at last. So you've got to back me up now.
(_Suddenly._) Say, I wonder if they'd let me have a typewriter up here?
EILEEN. It'd be fine if they would. I'd like to have one, too--to
practice. I learned stenography at a business college and then I had a
position for a year--before my mother died.
MURRAY. We could hire one--I could. I don't see why they wouldn't allow
it. I'm to be sent to one of the men's huts within the next few days,
and you'll be shipped to one of the women's cottages within ten days.
You're not sick enough to be kept here in bed, I'm sure of that.