A LITTLE CHANGE FOR EDWARD
A monologue by Mary
Stewart Cutting
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NOTE: This monologue is reprinted
from Modern Literature for Oral Interpretation. Ed. Gertrude
E. Johnson. New York: The Century Co., 1920. |
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Good-evening, Mrs. Callender--good evening, Mr. Callender.
You see I have my husband with me! Edward has said, all through
his illness, that the very first time he went out it would be
over here to your house, so you see it's quite an event. The
doctor said this morning when he found Edward so depressed that
if the weather continued to be mild it would be the very best
thing in the world for him to have a little change of scene and
thought--to be taken out of himself; that's what he really needs
now. He wanted to come over here alone, but I said to him: No,
Edward, I don't dare let you go without me; I'm so afraid you
might do something imprudent. Of course he doesn't realize it,
but he has to be watched every minute, especially now that he
begins to seem all right. You have to be so careful about ptomaine
poisoning. Aren't men just like children? I'm sure you wouldn't
behave like this, Mr. Callender, if your wife took you out after
such a severe illness as he has had!--Well, it's very kind of
you to speak that way. I'm sure I have tried to do all that I
could--nobody knows what I've been through; I've had to keep
everything to myself. Oh, yes, I know that I ought to have had
a trained nurse, but at the time I was so anxious about Edward--when
it's your husband you feel as if you must do everything yourself
for him. Yes, that's what uses you up so, standing on your feet.
I said to Edward to-day: Edward, if you realized all I go through,
standing on my feet--
Yes, dear, I know you wanted me to send for your mother to
help me, but--he doesn't understand, as you would, Mrs. Callender,
how much work it makes to have another person--and especially
an older person, like your husband's mother--in the house during
sickness. I really felt, just now, that with Edward as he is,
I really couldn't stand anything more on my mind.
Yes, he looks a great deal better, I know, but his color isn't
quite right even yet--you can notice it around his nose and under
his eyes. You ought to have seen him at first--he was actually
green. Yes, you were, Edward; the doctor said--why, Edward!--Very
well, dear, it's all right, we won't say any more about it. No,
dear, I know you don't like me to ask you how you feel, but it's
necessary sometimes. Don't you think you'd better have a glass
of milk, dear? Never mind, Mrs. Callender, when he speaks like
that I just let him alone. Why don't you talk to Mr. Callender,
dear? Is that a cigar? Now you don't want to smoke? Oh, Edward,
I wish you wouldn't! Why can't you just enjoy seeing Mr. Callender
do it?--Well, if you must!
You've no idea how irritable he gets, Mrs. Callender--he doesn't
hear, he's talking to your husband. It's his nerves, of course;
ptomaine poisoning upsets you all over--it seems to come out
in a new place every day. Yesterday I bought him some shirts
at a sale in town--they were really beautiful quality--the only
thing the matter with them was that they were a little tight
in the neck, and he really became almost--uncontrolled--at the
idea of wearing them. Even when I pointed out to him that as
I bought them at a sale they couldn't be exchanged, it made no
difference to him. Men have no idea of economy.
Was that your new maid who went through the hall just now,
Mrs. Callender? She looks as if she had a cheerful disposition.
Oh, yes, the one I have is neat, but she doesn't seem to get
anything done. She cries all the time, the way they always do
when they have a lover. We have done nothing but change all summer.
Edward says he is sick and tired of hearing about servants, but
I tell him if the burden of it all fell on him, as it does on
me, he'd find out the difference. The things they do pass belief;
I had a cook the first Christmas after we were married, twelve
years ago, and she--yes, Edward dear, perhaps we had better go
home.--You see, Mr. Callender, he's not had as much dissipation
as this for a long time. When I think of all those nights when
I sat watching beside him, with the light turned down in the
room so that I could only just see his face, and with all those
queer, creepy noises around that you seem to hear in the house
after midnight when everything else is still, it made it seem
as if nothing was ever going to be the same any more--as if the
children and I--oh, when I think of that and look at him now,
it makes me so happy! Yes, Edward dear, I'm coming. Keep well
Mr. Callender. Goodbye, Mrs. Callender.
MORE MONOLOGUES BY MARY STEWART CUTTING |
