And isn't it laying the Sabbath cloth I am?
[She bangs down articles from the table into their right
places.]
MENDEL
Don't answer me back.
[He begins to play softly.]
KATHLEEN
Faith, I must answer somebody back-and sorra a word of English she understands. I might as well talk to a tree.
MENDEL
You are not paid to talk, but to work.
[Playing on softly.]
KATHLEEN
And who can work wid an ould woman nagglin' and grizzlin' and faultin' me?
[She removes the red table-cloth.] Mate-plates, butther-plates, kosher, trepha, sure I've smashed up folks' crockery and they makin' less fuss ouver it.
MENDEL [Stops playing.]
Breaking crockery is one thing, and breaking a religion another. Didn't you tell me when I engaged you that you had lived in other Jewish families?
KATHLEEN [Angrily]
And is it a liar ye'd make me out now? I've lived wid clothiers and pawnbrokers and Vaudeville actors, but I niver shtruck a house where mate and butther couldn't be as paceable on the same plate as eggs and bacon-the most was that some wouldn't ate the bacon onless 'twas killed kosher.
MENDEL [Tickled]
Ha! Ha! Ha! Ha! Ha!
KATHLEEN [Furious, pauses with the white table-cloth half on. ]
And who's ye laughin' at? I give ye a week's notice. I won't be the joke of Jews, no, begorra, that I won't.
[She pulls the cloth on viciously.]
MENDEL [Sobered, rising from the piano]
Don't talk nonsense, Kathleen. Nobody is making a joke of you. Have a little patience-you'll soon learn our ways.
KATHLEEN [More mildly]
Whose ways, yours or the ould lady's or Mr. David's? To-night being yer Sabbath, you'll be blowing out yer bedroom candle, though ye won't light it; Mr. David'll light his and blow it out too; and the misthress won't even touch the candleshtick. There's three religions in this house, not wan.
MENDEL [Coughs uneasily.]
Hem! Well, you learn the mistress's ways-that will be enough.
KATHLEEN [Going to mantelpiece]
But what way can I understand her jabberin' and jibberin'?-I'm not a monkey!
[She takes up a silver candlestick.] Why doesn't she talk English like a Christian?
MENDEL [Irritated]
If you are going on like that, perhaps you had better not remain here.
KATHLEEN [Blazing up, forgetting to take the second candlestick ]
And who's axin' ye to remain here? Faith, I'll quit off this blissid minit!
MENDEL [Taken aback]
No, you can't do that.
KATHLEEN
And why can't I? Ye can keep yer dirthy wages.
[She dumps down the candlestick violently on the table, and exit
hysterically into her bedroom.]
MENDEL [Sighing heavily]
She might have put on the other candlestick.
[He goes to mantel and takes it. A rat-tat-tat at street-door.] Who can that be?
[Running to KATHLEEN'S door, holding candlestick forgetfully
low.] Kathleen! There's a visitor!
KATHLEEN [Angrily from within]
I'm not here!
MENDEL
So long as you're in this house, you must do your work.
[KATHLEEN'S head emerges sulkily.]
KATHLEEN
I tould ye I was lavin' at wanst. Let you open the door yerself.
MENDEL
I'm not dressed to receive visitors-it may be a new pupil.
[He goes toward staircase, automatically carrying off the
candlestick which KATHLEEN has not caught sight of. Exit on the
left.]
KATHLEEN [Moving toward the street-door]
The divil fly away wid me if ivir from this 'our I set foot again among haythen furriners--
[She throws open the door angrily and then the outer door. VERA
REVENDAL, a beautiful girl in furs and muff, with a touch of the
exotic in her appearance, steps into the little vestibule. ]
VERA
Is Mr. Quixano at home?
KATHLEEN [Sulkily]
Which Mr. Quixano?
VERA [Surprised]
Are there two Mr. Quixanos?
KATHLEEN [Tartly]
Didn't I say there was?
VERA
Then I want the one who plays.
KATHLEEN
There isn't a one who plays.
VERA
Oh, surely!
KATHLEEN
Ye're wrong entirely. They both plays.
VERA [Smiling]
Oh, dear! And I suppose they both play the violin.
KATHLEEN
Ye're wrong again. One plays the piano-ounly the young ginthleman plays the fiddle-Mr. David!
VERA [Eagerly]
Ah, Mr. David-that's the one I want to see.
KATHLEEN
He's out.
[She abruptly shuts the door.]
VERA [Stopping its closing]
Don't shut the door!
KATHLEEN [Snappily]
More chanst of seeing him out there than in here!
VERA
But I want to leave a message.
KATHLEEN
Then why don't ye come inside? It's freezin' me to the bone.
[She sneezes.] Atchoo!
VERA
I'm sorry.
[She comes in and closes the door] Will you please say Miss Revendal called from the Settlement, and we are anxiously awaiting his answer to the letter asking him to play for us on--
KATHLEEN
What way will I be tellin' him all that? I'm not here.
VERA
Eh?
KATHLEEN
I'm lavin'-just as soon as I've me thrunk packed.
VERA
Then I must write the message-can I write at this desk?
KATHLEEN
If the ould woman don't come in and shpy you.
VERA
What old woman?
KATHLEEN
Ould Mr. Quixano's mother-she wears a black wig, she's that houly.
VERA [Bewildered]
What?... But why should she mind my writing?
KATHLEEN
Look at the clock.
[VERA looks at the clock, more puzzled than ever.] If ye're not quick, it'll be Shabbos.
VERA
Be what?
KATHLEEN [Holds up hands of horror]
Ye don't know what Shabbos is! A Jewess not know her own Sunday!
VERA [Outraged]
I, a Jewess! How dare you?
KATHLEEN [Flustered]
Axin' your pardon, miss, but ye looked a bit furrin and I--
VERA [Frozen]
I am a Russian.
[Slowly and dazedly] Do I understand that Mr. Quixano is a Jew?