Our American Cousin by Tom Taylor

Author:Tom Taylor
Language: eng
Format: azw3, epub
Tags: Americans -- England -- Drama, Comedies, Aristocracy (Social class) -- England -- Drama
Publisher: Standard Ebooks
Published: 2019-02-15T21:50:30+00:00

Act III

Scene 1

Dairy set as be­fore in Act 2nd, Scene 2.

Asa Tren­chard dis­covered on bench, R. C., whit­tling stick. Mary busy with milk pans in dairy.

Asa Tren­chard Miss Mary, I wish you’d leave off those ever­last­ing dairy fix­ings, and come and take a hand of chat along with me.

Mary What, and leave my work? Why, when you first came here, you thought I could not be too in­dus­tri­ous.

Asa Tren­chard Well, I think so yet, Miss Mary, but I’ve got a heap to say to you, and I never can talk while you’re mov­ing about so spry among them pans, pails and cheeses. First you raise one hand and then the other, and well, it takes the gump­tion right out of me.

Mary Brings sew­ing down. Well, then, I’ll sit here—sits on bench with Asa Tren­chard, vis-à-vis. Well now, will that do?

Asa Tren­chard Well, no, Miss Mary, that won’t do, neither; them eyes of yourn takes my breath away.

Mary What will I do, then?

Asa Tren­chard Well, I don’t know, Miss Mary, but, darn me, if you could do any­thing that wasn’t so tar­nal neat and hand­some, that a fel­low would want to keep on do­ing noth­ing else all the time.

Mary Well, then, I’ll go away. Rises.

Asa Tren­chard Stop­ping her. No, don’t do that, Miss Mary, for then I’ll be left in total dark­ness. She sits. Some­how I feel kinder lost, if I haven’t got you to talk to. Now that I’ve got the lat­it­ude and lon­git­ude of all them big folks, found out the length of every lady’s foot, and the soft spot on every­body’s head, they can’t teach me noth­ing; but here, Whit­tling here I come to school.

Mary Then throw away that stick, and put away your knife, like a good boy. Throws away stick up­stage. I must cure you of that dread­ful trick of whit­tling.

Asa Tren­chard Oh, if you only knew how it helps me to keep my eyes off you, Miss Mary.

Mary But you needn’t keep your eyes off me.

Asa Tren­chard I’m afraid I must, my eyes are aw­ful tale-tell­ers, and they might be say­ing some­thing you wouldn’t like to hear, and that might make you mad, and then you’d shut up school, and send me home feel­ing about as small as a tad­pole with his tail bobbed off.

Mary Don’t be alarmed, I don’t think I will listen to any tales that your eyes may tell un­less they’re tales I like and ought to hear.

Asa Tren­chard If I thought they’d tell any other, Miss Mary, I pluck them right out and throw them in the first turnip patch I came to.

Mary And now tell me more about your home in Amer­ica. Do you know I’ve listened to your stor­ies un­til I’m half a back­woods­man’s wife already?

Asa Tren­chard Aside. Wouldn’t I like to make her a whole one.

Mary Yes, I can shut my eyes and al­most fancy I see your home in the back­woods. There are your two sis­ters run­ning about in their sun­bon­nets.

Asa Tren­chard Debby and Nan? Yes!

Mary Then I can see the smoke curl­ing from the chim­ney, then men and boys work­ing in the fields.

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