SILVA: Both of us had misfortunes on the same day.
BABY DOLL: Huh?
SILVA: You lost your furniture. My cotton gin burned down.
BABY DOLL [not quite with it]: Oh.
SILVA: Quite a coincidence!
BABY DOLL: Huh?
SILVA: I said it was a coincidence of misfortune.
BABY DOLL: Well, sure—after all what can you do with a bunch of unfurnished rooms.
SILVA: Well, you could play hide-and-seek.
BABY DOLL: Not me. I’m not athletic.
SILVA: I take it you’ve not had this place long, Mrs. Meighan.
BABY DOLL: No, we ain’t had it long.
SILVA: When I arrived in this county to take over the management of the Syndicate Plantation. . .
[He chops at the grass with his crop.]
this place was empty. I was told it was haunted. Then you all moved in.
BABY DOLL: Yes it was haunted, and that’s why Archie Lee bought it for almost nothing.
[She pauses in the sun as if dazed.]
Sometimes I don’t know where to go, what to do.
SILVA: That’s not uncommon. People enter this world without instruction.
BABY DOLL [she’s lost him again]: Huh?
SILVA: I said people come into this world without instructions of where to go, what to do, so they wander a little and. . .
[Aunt Rose sings rather sweetly from the kitchen, wind blows an Aeolian refrain.]
then go away. . . .
[Now Baby Doll gives him a quick look, almost perceptive and then. . .]
BABY DOLL: Yah, well. . .
SILVA: Drift—for a while and then. . . vanish.
[He stoops to pick a dandelion.]
And so make room for newcomers! Old goers, new comers! Back and forth, going and coming, rush, rush!! Permanent? Nothing!
[Blows on the seeding dandelion.]
Anything living!. . . last long enough to take it serious.
[They are walking together. There is the beginning of some weird understanding between them.
[They have stopped strolling by a poetic wheelless chassis of an old Pierce Arrow limousine in the side yard.]
BABY DOLL: This is the old Pierce Arrow car that belonged to the lady that used to own this place and haunts it now.
[Vacarro steps gravely forward and opens the back door for her.]
SILVA: Where to, madam?
BABY DOLL: Oh, you’re playing show-fer! It’s a good place to sit when the house isn’t furnished. . . .
[She enters and sinks on the ruptured upholstery. He gravely puts the remnant of the dandelion in the cone-shaped cut-glass vase in a bracket by the back seat of the old limousine.]
BABY DOLL [laughing with sudden, childish laughter]: Drive me along the river as fast as you can with all the windows open to cool me off.
SILVA: Fine, Madam!
BABY DOLL [suddenly aware of his body near her]: Showfers sit in the front seat.
SILVA: Front seat’s got no cushion.
BABY DOLL: It’s hard to find a place to sit around here since the Ideal Pay As You Go Plan people lost patience. To sit in comfort, I mean. . . .
SILVA: It’s hard to sit in comfort when the Ideal Pay As You Go Plan people lose their patience and your gin burns down.
BABY DOLL: Oh! But. . .
SILVA: Huh?
BABY DOLL: You said that like you thought there was. . .
SILVA: What?
BABY DOLL: Some connection! Excuse me, I want to get out and I can’t get over your legs. . . .
[Her apathy is visited by a sudden inexplicable flurry of panic. He has his boots propped against the back of the front seat.]
SILVA: You can’t get over my legs?
BABY DOLL: No. I’m not athletic.
[She tries to open the door on the other side, but it is blocked by the trunk of a pecan tree.]
SILVA: But it’s cool here and comfortable to sit in. What’s this here??
[He has seized her wrist on which hangs a bracelet of many little gold charms. She sinks somewhat uneasily in beside him.]
BABY DOLL: It’s a, it’s a. . . charm bracelet.
[He begins to finger the many little gold charms attached.]
BABY DOLL: My daddy gave it to me. Them there’s the ten commandments.
SILVA: And these?
BABY DOLL: My birthdays. It’s stretchable. One for each birthday.
SILVA: How many charming birthdays have you had?
BABY DOLL: As many as I got charms hanging on that bracelet.
SILVA: Mind if I count ’em?
[They are close.]
. . .fourteen, fifteen, sixteen, seventeen, eighteen, nineteen, and. . .
BABY DOLL: That’s all. I’ll be twenty tomorrow. Tomorrow is Election Day and Election Day is my birthday. I was born on the day that Frank Delano Roosevelt was elected for his first term.
SILVA: A great day for the country for both reasons.
BABY DOLL: He was a man to respect.
SILVA: And you’re a lady to respect, Mrs. Meighan.
BABY DOLL [sadly and rather touchingly]: Me? Oh, no—I never got past the fourth grade.
SILVA: Why’d you quit?
BABY DOLL: I had a great deal of trouble with long division. . . .
SILVA: Yeah?
BABY DOLL: The teacher would tell me to go to the blackboard and work out a problem in long division and I would go to the blackboard and lean my head against it and cry and cry and—cry. . . .
Whew! I think the porch would be cooler. Mr. Vacarro, I can’t get over your legs.
SILVA: You want to move my legs.
BABY DOLL: Yes, otherwise, I can’t get out of the car. . . .
SILVA: Okay.
[He raises his legs so she can get out. Which she does, and continues. . .]
BABY DOLL: YES, I would cry and cry. . . . Well. . . soon after that I left school. A girl without education is—without education. . . .
Whew. . . . Feel kind of dizzy. Hope I’m not gettin’ a sun stroke. —I better sit in the shade. . . .
[Vacarro follows her casually into the shade of the pecan tree where there’s a decrepit old swing. Suddenly, he leaps into the branches and then down with a pecan. He cracks it in his mouth and hands her the kernels. . . .]
BABY DOLL: Mr. Vacarro! I wouldn’t dream! —excuse me, but I just wouldn’t dream! of eating a nut that a man had cracked in his mouth. . . .
SILVA: You’ve got many refinements. I don’t think you need to worry about your failure at long division. I mean, after all, you got through short division, and short division is all that a lady ought to be called on to cope with. . . .
BABY DOLL: Well, I—ought to go in, but I get depressed when I pass through those empty rooms. . . .
SILVA: All the rooms empty?
BABY DOLL: All but the nursery. And the kitchen. The stuff in those rooms was paid for. . . .
SILVA: You have a child in the nursery?
BABY DOLL: Me? No. I sleep in the nursery myself. Let down the slats on the crib. . . .
SILVA: Why do you sleep in the nursery?
BABY DOLL: Mr. Vacarro, that’s a personal question.
[There is a pause.]
BABY DOLL: I ought to go in. . . but. . . you know there are places in that house which I never been in. I mean the attic for instance. Most of the time I’m afraid to go into that house by myself. Last night when the fire broke out I sat here on this swing for hours and hours till Archie Lee got home, because I was scared to enter this old place by myself.
[Vacarro has caught this discrepancy too.]
SILVA: It musta been scary here without your husband to look after you.
BABY DOLL: I’m tellin’ you! The fire lit up the whole countryside and it made big crazy shadows and we didn’t have a coke in the house and the heat and the mosquitoes and—I was mad at Archie Lee.
SILVA: Mad at Mr. Meighan? What about?
BABY DOLL: Oh, he went off
and left me settin’ here without a coke in the place.
SILVA: Went off and left you, did he??!!
BABY DOLL: Well, he certainly did. Right after supper and when he got back, the fire’d already broke out. I got smoke in my eyes and my nose and throat. I was in such a wornout nervous condition it made me cry. Finally I took two teaspoons of paregoric.
SILVA: Sounds like you passed a very uncomfortable night.
BABY DOLL: Sounds like? Well it was!
SILVA: So Mr. Meighan—you say—disappeared after supper.
BABY DOLL [after a pause]: Huh?
SILVA: You say Mr. Meighan left the house for a while after supper?
[Something in his tone makes her aware that she has spoken indiscreetly.]
BABY DOLL: Oh—uh—just for a moment.
SILVA: Just for a moment, huh? How long a moment?
BABY DOLL: What are you driving at, Mr. Vacarro?
SILVA: Driving at? Nothing.
BABY DOLL: You’re looking at me so funny.
SILVA: How long a moment did he disappear for? Can you remember, Mrs. Meighan?
BABY DOLL: What difference does that make? What’s it to you, anyhow?
SILVA: Why should you mind my asking?
BABY DOLL: You make this sound like I was on trial for something.
SILVA: Don’t you like to pretend like you’re a witness?
BABY DOLL: Witness of what, Mr. Vacarro?
SILVA: Why—for instance—say—a case of arson!
BABY DOLL: Case of—? What is—arson?
SILVA: The willful destruction of property by fire.
[He slaps his boots sharply with the riding crop.]
BABY DOLL: Oh!
[She nervously fingers her purse.]
SILVA: There’s one thing I always notice about you ladies.
BABY DOLL: What’s that?
SILVA: Whenever you get nervous, you always like to have something in your hands to hold on to—like that big white purse.
BABY DOLL: This purse?
SILVA: Yes, it gives you something to hold on to, isn’t that right?
BABY DOLL: Well, I do always like to have something in my hands.
SILVA: Sure you do. You feel what a lot of uncertain things there are. Gins burn down. No one know how or why. Volunteer fire departments don’t have decent equipment. They’re no protection. The afternoon sun is too hot. The trees! They’re no protection! The house—it’s haunted! It’s no protection. Your husband. He’s across the road and busy. He’s no protection! The goods that dress is made of—it’s light and thin—it’s no protection. So what do you do, Mrs. Meighan? You pick up that white kid purse. It’s something to hold on to.
BABY DOLL: Now, Mr. Vacarro. Don’t you go and be getting any—funny ideas.
SILVA: Ideas about what?
BABY DOLL: My husband disappearing—after supper. I can explain that.
SILVA: Can you?
BABY DOLL: Sure I can.
SILVA: Good! How do you explain it?
[He stares at her. She looks down.]
What’s the matter? Can’t you collect your thoughts, Mrs. Meighan?
[Pause.]
Your mind’s a blank on the subject?
BABY DOLL: Look here, now. . . .
SILVA: You find it impossible to remember just what your husband disappeared for after supper? You can’t imagine what kind of an errand he went out on, can you?
BABY DOLL: No! No! I can’t!
SILVA: But when he returned—let’s see—the fire had just broken out at the Syndicate Plantation.
BABY DOLL: Mr. Vacarro, I don’t have the slightest idea what you could be driving at.
SILVA: You’re a very unsatisfactory witness, Mrs. Meighan.
BABY DOLL: I never can think when people—stare straight at me.
SILVA: Okay, I’ll look away then.
[Turns his back to her.]
Now, does that improve your memory any? Now are you able to concentrate on the question?
BABY DOLL: Huh?
SILVA: No? You’re not?
[Grins evilly.]
Well—should we drop the subject??
BABY DOLL: I sure do wish you would!
SILVA: Sure, there’s no use crying over a burnt-down gin. And besides, like your husband says—this world is built on the principle of tit for tat.
BABY DOLL: What do you mean?
SILVA: Nothing at all specific. Mind if I. . .?
BABY DOLL: What?
[Silva approaches the swing where she sits.]
SILVA: You want to move over a little and make some room?
BABY DOLL [shifting slightly]: Is that room enough for you?
SILVA: Enough for me. How about you?
BABY DOLL: Is it strong enough to support us both?
SILVA: I hope. Let’s swing a little. You seem all tense. Motion relaxes people. It’s like a cradle. A cradle relaxes a baby. They call you “Baby,” don’t they?
BABY DOLL: That’s sort of a pet name.
SILVA: Well in the swing you can relax like a cradle. . . .
BABY DOLL: Not if you swing it so high. It shakes me up.
SILVA: Well, I’ll swing it low then. Are you relaxed?
BABY DOLL: I’m relaxed enough. As much as necessary.
SILVA: No, you’re not. Your nerves are all tied up.
BABY DOLL: You make me nervous.
SILVA: Just swinging with you?
BABY DOLL: Not just that.
SILVA: What else then?
BABY DOLL: All them questions you asked me about the fire.
SILVA: I only inquired about your husband—about his leaving the house after supper.
BABY DOLL: Why should I have to explain why he left the house? Besides, I did. I think I explained that to you.
SILVA: You said that he left the house before the fire broke out.
BABY DOLL: What about it?
SILVA: Why did he leave the house?
BABY DOLL: I explained that to you. I explained that to you.
SILVA: What was the explanation? I forgot it.
[Baby Doll’s face is beaded with sweat. To save her life she can’t think, can’t think at all.]
BABY DOLL [just to gain a moment]: Oh, you’re talking about my husband?
SILVA: That’s who I’m talking about.
BABY DOLL: How should I know!!!
SILVA: You mean where he went after supper.
BABY DOLL: Yes!! How should I know where he went.
SILVA: I thought you said you explained that to me.
BABY DOLL: I did! I explained it to you!
SILVA: Well, if you don’t know, how could you explain it to me?
BABY DOLL [turning]: There’s no reason why I should explain things to you.
SILVA: Then just relax.
[They swing.]
As I was saying, that was a lovely remark your husband made.
BABY DOLL: What remark did he make?
SILVA: The good neighbor policy. I see what he means by that now.
BABY DOLL: He was talking about the President’s speech.
SILVA: I think he was talking about something closer to home. You do me a good turn and I’ll do you one. That was the way he put it.
[Delicately he removes a little piece of lint from her arm.]
SILVA: There now!
BABY DOLL [nervously]: Thanks.
SILVA: There’s a lot of fine cotton lint floating around in the air.
BABY DOLL: I know there is. It irritates my sinus.
SILVA: Well, you’re a delicate woman.
BABY DOLL: Delicate? Me? Oh no. I’m a good-size woman.
SILVA: There’s a lot of you, but every bit of you is delicate. Choice. Delectable, I might say.
BABY DOLL: Huh?
SILVA [running his finger lightly over her skin]: You’re fine fibered. And smooth. And soft.
BABY DOLL: Our conversation is certainly taking a personal turn!
SILVA: Yes! You make me t
hink of cotton.
[Still caressing her arm another moment.]
No! No fabric, no kind of cloth, not even satin or silk cloth, or no kind of fiber, not even cotton fiber has the ab-so-lute delicacy of your skin!
BABY DOLL: Well! Should I say thanks or something?
SILVA: No, just smile, Mrs. Meighan. You have an attractive smile. Dimples!!
BABY DOLL: No. . .
SILVA: Yes, you have! Smile, Mrs. Meighan! Come on! Smile!
[Baby Doll averts her face, smiles helplessly.]
There now. See? You’ve got them!
[Delicately, he touches one of the indentations in her cheek.]
BABY DOLL: Please don’t touch me. I don’t like to be touched.
SILVA: Then why do you giggle?
BABY DOLL: Can’t help it. You make me feel kind of hysterical, Mr. Vacarro. . . Mr. Vacarro. . .
SILVA: Yes?
BABY DOLL [a different attack, more feminine, pleading]: I hope you don’t think that Archie Lee was mixed up in that fire. I swear to goodness he never left the front porch. I remember it perfectly now. We just set here on the swing till the fire broke out and then we drove into town.
SILVA: To celebrate!
BABY DOLL: No, no, no!
Baby Doll & Tiger Tail Page 4
