Our Town - Emily Webb

Stage Manager: Thank you, Mr. Webb. NOw, We’ll go back to the town. It’s early afternoon. All 2642 have had their dinners and all the dishes have been washed. There’s an early-afternoon calm in our town. There are the children coming home from school.

Emily: I can’t, Lois. I’ve got to go home and help my mother. I prommised.

George: Hello, Emily

Emily: H’lo

George: You made a fine speech in class.

Emily: Well… I was really ready to make a speech about the Monroe Doctrine, but at the last minute Miss Corcoran made me talk about the Louisiana Purchase instead. I worked an awful long time on both of them.

George: Gee, It’s funny, Emliy. From my window up there I can see your head nights when you’re doing homework over in your room.

Emily: Why, can you?

George: You certainly do stick to it, Emily. I don’t see how you can sit still that long. I guess you like school.

Emily: I don’t mind it really. It passes the time.

George: Yeah. Emily, what do you think? We might work out a kinda telegraph from your window to mine; and once in a while you could give me a kinda hint or two about one of those algebra problems. I don’t mean the answers, Emily, of course… just some little hint…

Emily: Oh, I think hints are allowed. So… ah… if you get stuck George… you whistle to me and I’ll give you some hints.

George: Emily, you’re just naturally bright, I guess.

Emily: I figure that it’s just the way a person’s born.

George: Yeah. But, you see, I want to be a farmer, and my Uncle Luke says whenever I’m ready I can come over and work on his farm and if I’m any good I can just gradually have it.

Emily: You mean the house and everything?

George: So long, Emily.

Emily: So long, George.

Mrs. Webb: George Gibbs let himself have a real conversation, didn’t he?

Emily: I don’t know. Mamma, I made a speech in class today and I was very good.

Mrs. Webb: You must recite it to your father at supper. What was it about?

Emily: The Louisiana Purchase. It was like silk off a spool. I’m going to make speeches all my life. Mama… Mama, will you answer me a question, serious?

Mrs. Webb: Seriously, dear; not serious.

Emily: Seriously, will you?

Mrs. Webb: Of course, I will.

Emily: Mama, am I good looking?

Mrs. Webb: Yes, of course you are. All my children have got good features; I’d be ashamed if they hadn’t.

Emily: Oh, Mama, that’s not what I mean. What I mean is: am I pretty?

Mrs. Webb: I’ve already told you, yes. Now that’s enough of that. You have a nice young face. I’ve never heard of such foolishness.

Emily: Oh, Mama, you never tell us the truth about anything.

Mrs. Webb: Emily, you make me tired. Now stop it. You’re pretty enough for all normal purposes.

Emily: Oh, Mama, you’re no help at all.

George: Hsst! Emily!

Emily: Hello.

George: Hello!

Emily: I can’t work at all.

George: Emily, did you get the third problem?

Emily: Why, yes, George. That’s the easiest of them all.

George: I don’t see it. Emily, can you give me a hint?

Emily: I’ll tell you one thing… the answer’s on yards.

George: In yards? How do you mean?

Emily: In square yards.

George: Oh… In square yards.

Emily: Yes, George, don’t you see?

George: Yeah.

Emily: In square yards of wallpaper.

George: Wallpaper. Oh, I see. Thanks a lot, Emily.

Emily: You’re welcome. My, isn’t the moonlight terrible? And choir practice going on. I think if you hold breath you can hear the train all the way to Contoocook. Hear it?

George: M-m-m… what do you know!

Emily: Well, I guess I better go back and try to work.

George: Good night, Emily. And thanks.

Emily: Good night, George.

Mr. Webb: Who’s up there? Is that you, Myrtle?

Emily: No, it’s me, Papa.

Mr. Webb: Why aren’t you in bed?

Emily: I don’t know. I just can’t sleep yet, Papa. The moonlight’s so wonderful. And the smell of Mrs. Gibbs’ heliotrope. Can you smell it?

Mr. Webb: Hm… Yes. Haven’t any troubles on your mind, have you, Emily?

Emily: Troubles, Papa? No.

Mr. Webb: Well enjoy yourself, but don’t let your mother catch you. Good night, Emily.

Emily: Good night, Papa.

Stage Manager: BLAH BLAH BLAH…. And Emily’s just been elected Secretary and Treasurer

Emily: I can’t Louise. I’ve got to go home. Good-bye. Oh, Ernestine! Ernestine! Can you come over tonight and do Latin? Tell your mother you have to. G’by. G’by, Helen.

George: Can I carry books home for you, Emily?

Emily: (Coolly) Why…uh… Thank you. It isn’t far.

George: I’m awfully glad you were elected, too, Emily.

Emily: Thank you.

George: Emily, why are you mad at me?

Emily: I’m not mad at you.

George: You’ve been treating me so funny lately.

Emily: Well, since,you ask me, I might as well say it right out, George, I don’t like the whole change that’s coming over you in the last year. I’m sorry if that hurts your feelings, but I’ve got to — tell the truth and shame the devil.

George: A change? Wha… what do you mean?

Emily: Well, up to a year ago I used to like you a lot. And I used to watch you as you did everything… because we’d been friends so long… and then you began spending all your time at baseball… and you never stopped to speak to anybody any more. Not even to your own family you didn’t… and, George, it’s a fact… you’ve got awful conceited and stuck-up, and all the girls say so. They may not say so to your face, but that’s what they say about you behind your back, and it hurts me to hear them say it; but I’ve got to agree with them a little. I’m sorry if it hurts your feelings… but I can’t be sorry I said it.

George: I… I’m glad you said it, Emily, I never thought such a thing was happening to me. I guess it’s hard for a fella not to have faults creep into his character.

Emily: I always expect a man to be perfect and I think he should be.

George: Oh, I don’t think it’s possible to be perfect, Emily.

Emily: Well, My father is, and as far as I can see, your father is. There’s no reason on earth why you shouldn’t be, too.

George: Well, I feel it’s the other way round. That men aren’t naturally good; but girls are.

Emily: Well, you might as well know right now that I’m not perfect. It’s not as easy for a girl to be as perfect as a man, because we girls are more… more… nervous. Now I’m sorry I said all that about you. I don’t know what made me say it.

George: Emily…

Emily: Now I can see it’s not the truth at all. And I suddenly feel that it isn’t important, anyway.

George: Emily… would you like an ice-cream soda, or something, before you go home?

Emily: Well, thank you… I would.

Stage Manager: Two strawberry ice-cream sodas, yes sir. There they are. Enjoy ‘em.

Emily: They are so expensive.

George: No, no. Don’t think of that. We’re celebrating our election. And do you know what else I’m celebrating?

Emily: Nnn-no

George: I’m celebrating because I’ve got a friend who tells me things that ought to be told me.

Emily: George, please don’t think like that. I don’t know why I said it. It’s not true. You’re…

George: No, Emily, you stick to it. I’m glad you spoke to me like you did. But you’ll see; I’m going to change so quick; you bet I’m going to change. And, Emily, I want to ask you a favor.

Emily: What?

George: Emily, if I go away to State Agriculture College next year, will you write me a letter once in a while?

Emily: I certainly will. I certainly will, George.

George: Y’know. Emily, whenever I meet a farmer, I ask him if he thinks it’s important to go to Agriculture School to be a good farmer.

Emily: Why, George…

George: And Uncle Luke’s getting old; he’s about ready for me to start in taking over his farm tomorrow, if I could. Emily… I feel that you’re as good a friend as I’ve got. I don’t need to go and meet the people in other towns.

Emily: But, George, maybe it’s very important for you to go and learn all that about the cattle judging and soils and those things. Of course, I don’t know.

George: Emily, I’m going to make up my mind right now. I won’t go. I’ll tell Pa about it tonight.

Emily: Why, George, I don’t see why you have to decide right now. It’s a whole year away.

George: Emily, I’m glad you spoke to me about that… that fault in my character. What you said was right; but there was one thing wrong in it, and that was when you said that for a year I wasn't noticing people, and… you, for instance. Why, you say you were watching me when I did everything… I was doing the same about you all the time. Why, sure, I always thought about you as one of the chief people I thought about. I always made sure where you were sitting on the bleachers, and who you were with, and for three days now I’ve been trying to walk home with you, and you walked home with Miss Corcoran.

Emily: George… Life’s awfully funny! How could I have known that? Why, I thought…

George: Listen, Emily, I’m going to tell you why I’m not going to Agriculture School. I think that once you’ve found a person that you’re very fond of… I mean a person who’s fond of you, too, and likes you enough to be interested in your character… Well, I think that’s just as important as college is, and even more so. That’s what I think.

Emily: I think it’s awfully important, too.

George: Emily.

Emily: Y-yes, George.

George: Emily, if I do improve and make a big change… would you be… I mean: could you be…

Emily: I… I am now; I always have been.

George: So I guess this is an important talk we’ve been having.

Emily: Yes… yes.

Stage Manager: I’ll trust you ten years, George… not a day over. Got over all your shock, Emily?

Emily: Yes, thank you, Mr. Morgan. It was nothing.

George: Cheer up, Ma. I’m getting married.

(Emily enters. She draws back frightened)

Emily: I never felt so alone in my whole life. And George over there, looking so… I hate him. I wish I were dead. Papa! Papa!

Mr. Webb: Emily! Emily! Now don’t get upset.

Emily: But, Papa, I don’t want to get married.

Mr. Webb: Shh… Shh… Emily. Everything’s all right.

Emily: Why I can’t stay for a while just as I am? Let’s go away.

Mr. Webb: No, no, Emily. Now stop and think a minute.

Emily: Don’t you remember that you used to say… all the time you used to say… all the time… that I was your girl! There must be lots of places we can go to.

Mr. Webb: Shh… You mustn’t think of such things. You’re just nervous, Emily. (Mr. Webb turns and calls to George) George! George! (Mr. Webb turns back to Emily) Why you’re marrying the best young fellow in the world. George is a fine fellow.

Emily: But Papa…

George: Mr. Webb, I want to… I want to try. Emily, I’m going to do my best. I love you, Emily. I need you.

Emily: Well, if you love me, help me. All I want is someone to love me.

George: I will, Emily. Emily. I’ll try.

Emily: And I mean forever. Do you hear? Forever and ever.

Mrs. Soames: My, wasn’t life awful… and wonderful.

Emily: Hello.

Mrs. Soames: Hello, Emily.

Emily: Hello, Mother Gibbs.

Mrs. Gibbs: They’ll be gone soon, dear. Just rest yourself.

Emily: Papa remembered that that was my favorite hymn. Mother Gibbs, George and I have made that farm into just the best place you ever saw. We thought of you all the time. We wanted to show you the new barn and a great long cement drinking fountain for the stock. We bought that out of the money you left us. (Emily’s voice trails off as she looks at the mourners.) It won’t be the same to George without me, but it’s a lovely farm. Live people don’t understand, do they?

Mrs. Gibbs: No, dear… not very much.

Emily: They’re sort of shut up in little boxes, aren’t they? I feel as though I knew them last a thousand years ago. Mother Gibbs, When does this feeling go away? Of being… one of them? How long does it…?

Mrs. Gibbs: Shh! Dear. Just wait and be patient.

Emily: I know. Look, they’re finished. They’re going.

Mrs. Gibbs: Shh…

Emily: Look! Father Gibbs is bringing some of my flowers to you. I never realized before hoe troubled and how… how in the dark live persons are. I loved him so. From morning till night, that’s all they are… troubled.

The Dead: (Talking among themselves) Little cooler than it was. Yes, that rain’s cooled it off a little. Those northeast winds always do the same thing, don’t they? If it isn’t rain, it’s a three day blow.

Emily: But, Mother Gibbs, one can go back; one can go back their again… into living. Why just then for a moment I was thinking about… about the farm… and for a minute I was there and…

Mrs. Gibbs: All I can say is, Emily, don’t.

Emily: (To Stage Manager) But it’s true isn’t it? I can go and live…back there… again.

Mrs. Soames: Emily, don’t. It’s not what you think it’d be.

Emily: But I won’t live over a sad day. I’ll choose a happy one. I’ll choose the day I first knew I loved George. Why should that be painful?

Stage Manager: You not only live it but you watch yourself living it. And as you watch it, you see the thing that they, down there, never know. You see the future. You know what’s going to happen afterwards.

Emily: But is that… painful? Why?

Mrs. Gibbs: When you’ve been here longer you’ll understand.

Emily: But it’s a thing I must know for myself. I’ll choose a happy day, anyway.

Mrs. Gibbs: Choose the least important day in your life. It will be important enough.

Emily: Then it can’t be since I was married or since the baby was born. I can choose a birthday at least, can’t I? I choose my twelfth birthday.

Stage Manager: Do you want a special time of day?

Emily: Oh, I want the whole day.

Stage Manager: We’ll begin at dawn.

Emily: There’s Main Street… why, that’s Mr. Morgan’s drugstore before he changed it!

Stage Manager: Yes, it’s 1949. This is fourteen years ago.

Emily: Oh, that’s the town I knew as a little girl. And, look, there’s the old white fence that used to be around our house. Oh, I’d forgotten that! Oh, I love it so! Are they inside?

Stage Manager: Yes, Your mother’ll be coming downstairs in a minute to make breakfast.

Emily: Will she? Look! There’s Howie Newsome. There’s our policeman. But he died.

Constable Warren: Beeb rescuin’ a party; darn near froze to death.

Emily: Why, there’s Joe Crowell.

Mrs. Webb: Wally! Emily! Time to get up.

Emily: Mama, I’m here! Oh! I didn’t know Mama was ever that young.

Mrs. Webb: Keep yourself wrapped up.

Emily: Mama, I can’t find my blue hair ribbon anywhere.

Mrs. Webb: I laid it out for you special — on the dresser, there. If it were a snake it would bite you.

Emily: Yes, yes.

Mrs. Webb: We must get it in the paper.

Emily: (Whispers) Papa.

Mrs. Webb: You can see her at breakfast. She’s slow enough as it is. Hurry up, children! It’s seven o’clock.

Emily: I can’t bear it. They’re so young and beautiful. Why did they ever have to get old? Mama, I’m here. I’m grown up. I love you all. Everything. I can’t look at everything hard enough. (Joins the scene) Good morning, Mama.

Mrs. Webb: Well, now, dear, a very happy birthday to my girl and many happy returns. There are some surprises waiting for you on the kitchen table.

Emily: Oh, Mama, you shouldn’t have. ( Emily looks at the Stage Manager) I can’t. I can’t

Mrs. Webb: I reckon you can guess who brought you the post-card album. I found it on the doorstep when I brought in the milk… George Gibbs… must have come over in the cold pretty early… right nice of him.

Emily: Oh, George! I’d forgotten that..

Mrs. Webb: Chew that bacon good and slow. It’ll help keep you warm on a cold day.

Emily: Oh, Mama, just look at me one minute as though you really saw me. Mama, fourteen years have gone by. I’m dead. You’re a grandmother, Mama. I married George Gibbs, Mama. I married George Gibbs, Mama. Wally’s dead, too. Mama, his appendix burst on a camping trip in North Conway. We felt just terrible about it — don’t you remember? But, just for a moment now we’re all together. Mama, just for a moment we’re happy. Let’s look at one another.

Mrs. Webb: That in the yellow paper is something I found in the attic among your grandmother’s things.

Emily: And this is from you. Why, Mama, it’s just lovely and it’s just what I wanted. It’s beautiful!

Mr. Webb: (Off-stage) Where’s my girl? Where’s my birthday girl?

Emily: I can’t. I can’t go on. It goes so fast. We don’t have time to look at one another. (Emily breaks down sobbing, Mrs. Webb exits) I didn’t realize. So all that was going on and we never notices. Take me back… up the hill… to my grave. But first: Wait! One more look. Good-by, Good-by, world. Good-by, Grover’s Corners… Mama and Papa. Goodby to clocks ticking… and Mama’s sunflowers. And food and coffee. And new ironed dresses and hot baths… and sleeping and waking up. Oh, earth, you’re too wonderful for anybody to realize you. (To Stage Manager) Do any human beings ever realize life while they live it… every , every minute?

Mrs. Gibbs: Were you happy?

Emily: NO. I should have listened to you. That’s all human beings are! Just blind people.

Mrs. Gibbs: Look, It’s clearing up. The stars are coming out.

Emily: Oh, Mr. Stimson, I should have listened to them.

Mrs. Gibbs: Simon Stimson, that ain’t the whole truth and you know it. Emily look at that star. I forget it’s name.

Emily: Mother Gibbs, it’s George.

Mrs. Gibbs: Shh, dear. Just rest yourself.

Emily: It’s George.

Mrs. Soames: He ought to be home.

Emily: Mother Gibbs?

Mrs. Gibbs: Yes, Emily?

Emily: They don’t understand, do they?