27 Wagons Full of Cotton and Other Plays by Tennessee Williams Page B

that I can’t feel again the way that I used to feel, now that he’s got six children by that Cincinnati girl—three in high-school already! Six! Think of that? Six children! I don’t know what he’ll say when he knows another one’s coming!

    He’ll probably blame me for it because a man always does! In spite of the fact that he forced me!
    E LEVATOR B OY: ( grinning )Did you say—a baby, Miss Collins?
    M ISS COLLINS: ( lowering her eyes but speaking with tenderness and pride )Yes—I’m expecting a child.
    E LEVATOR B OY: Jeez! ( He claps his hand over his mouth and turns away quickly. )
    M ISS COLLINS: Even if it’s not legitimate, I think it has a perfect right to its father’s name—don’t you?
    P ORTER: Yes. Sure, Miss Collins.
    M ISS COLLINS: A child is innocent and pure. No matter how it’s conceived. And it must not be made to suffer! So I intend to dispose of the little property Cousin Ethel left me and give the child a private education where it won’t come under the evil influence of the Christian church! I want to make sure that it doesn’t grow up in the shadow of the cross and then have to walk along blocks that scorch you with terrible sunlight! ( The elevator buzzer sounds from the hall. )
    P ORTER: Frank! Somebody wants to come up. ( The Elevator Boy goes out. The elevator door bangs shut. The Porter clears his throat. )Yes, it’d be better—to go off some place else.
    M ISS COLLINS: If only I had the courage—but I don’t. I’ve grown so used to it here, and people outside—it’s always so hard to face them!
    P ORTER: Maybe you won’t—have to face nobody, Miss Collins. ( The elevator door clangs open. )
    M ISS COLLINS: ( rising fearfully )Is someone coming—here?
    P ORTER: You just take it easy, Miss Collins.
    M ISS COLLINS: If that’s the officers coming for Richard, tell them to go away. I’ve decided not to prosecute Mr. Martin. ( Mr. Abrams enters with the Doctor and the Nurse. The Elevator Boy gawks from the doorway. The Doctor is the weary , professional type, the Nurse hard and efficient. Mr. Abrams is a small, kindly person, sincerely troubled by the situation. )

    M ISS COLLINS: ( shrinking back, her voice faltering )I’ve decided not to—prosecute Mr. Martin . . .
    D OCTOR: Miss Collins?
    M R. ABRAMS: ( with attempted heartiness )Yes, this is the lady you wanted to meet, Dr. White.
    D OCTOR: Hmmm. ( briskly to the Nurse )Go in her bedroom and get a few things together.
    N URSE: Yes, sir. ( She goes quickly across to the bedroom. )
    M ISS COLLINS: ( fearfully shrinking )Things?
    D OCTOR: Yes, Miss Tyler will help you pack up an overnight bag. ( smiling mechanically )A strange place always seems more homelike the first few days when we have a few of our little personal articles around us.
    M ISS COLLINS: A strange—place?
    D OCTOR: ( carelessly, making a memorandum )Don’t be disturbed, Miss Collins.
    M ISS COLLINS: I know! ( excitedly )You’ve come from the Holy Communion to place me under arrest! On moral charges!
    M R. ABRAMS: Oh, no, Miss Collins, you got the wrong idea. This is a doctor who—
    D OCTOR: ( impatiently )Now, now, you’re just going away for a while till things get straightened out. ( He glances at his watch. )Two-twenty-five! Miss Tyler?
    N URSE: Coming!
    M ISS COLLINS: ( with slow and sad comprehension )Oh. . . . I’m going away. . . .
    M R. ABRAMS: She was always a lady, Doctor, such a perfect lady.
    D OCTOR: Yes. No doubt.
    M R. ABRAMS: It seems too bad!
    M ISS COLLINS: Let me—write him a note. A pencil? Please?
    M R. ABRAMS: Here, Miss Collins. ( She takes the pencil and crouches over the table. The Nurse comes out with a hard, forced smile, carrying a suitcase. )
    D OCTOR: Ready, Miss Tyler?
    N URSE: All ready, Dr. White. ( She goes up to Miss Collins. ) Come along, dear, we can tend to that later!
    M R. ABRAMS: ( sharply )Let her finish the note!
    M ISS COLLINS: ( straightening with a frightened smile )It’s—finished.
    N URSE: All