the footprints that crushed my petunias. I just now had them measured by a shoe clerk.
OFFICER : That’s a pretty large foot, Miss Simple, but lots of men have got large feet.
DOROTHY : Not in Primanproper, Massachusetts. Mr. Knowzit, the shoe clerk, assured me that there isn’t a man in town who wears a shoe that size. Of course you realize the danger of allowing this maniac to remain at large. Any man who would crush a sweet petunia is equally capable in my opinion of striking a helpless woman or kicking an innocent child!
OFFICER : I’ll do my best, Miss Simple. See yuh later.
DOROTHY [
curtly
]: Yes. Goodbye. [
Slams door. She returns behind her notion counter and drums restively with her pale pink-polished nails. The canary cheeps timidly. Then tries an arpeggio. Dorothy
,
to canary
.] Oh, hush up! [
Then contritely
.] Excuse me, please. My nerves are all to pieces!
[She blows her nose. The doorbell tinkles as a customer enters. He is a young man, shockingly large and aggressive looking in the flower-papered cubicle of the shop.]
Gracious, please be careful. You’re bumping your head against my chandelier.
YOUNG MAN [
good-humoredly
]: Sorry, Miss Simple. I guess I’d better sit down. [
The delicate little chair collapses beneath him
.]
DOROTHY : Heaven have mercy upon us! You seem to have a genius for destruction! You’ve broken that little antique chair to smithereens!
YOUNG MAN : Sorry, Miss Simple.
DOROTHY : I appreciate your sorrow, but that won’t mend my chair. —Is there anything I can show you in the way of notions?
YOUNG MAN : I’d like to see that pair of wine-colored socks you have in the window.
DOROTHY : What size socks do you wear?
YOUNG MAN : I keep forgetting. But my shoes are eleven D.
DOROTHY [
sharply
]: What size did you say? Eleven? Eleven D?
YOUNG MAN : That’s right, Miss Simple. Eleven D.
DOROTHY : Oh. Your shoes are rather muddy, aren’t they?
YOUNG MAN : That’s right, Miss Simple, I believe they are.
DOROTHY : Quite muddy. It looks like you might have stepped in a freshly watered flower bed last night.
YOUNG MAN : Come to think of it, that’s what I did.
DOROTHY : I don’t suppose you’ve heard about that horrible case of petunia crushing which occurred last night?
YOUNG MAN : As a matter of fact, I have heard something about it.
DOROTHY : From the policeman on the corner?
YOUNG MAN : No, ma’am. Not from him.
DOROTHY : Who from, then? He’s the only man who knows about it except—except—except—the man who
did
it! [
Pause. The canary cheeps inquiringly
.] You—you—
you
—are the man who
did
it!
YOUNG MAN : Yes, Miss Simple. I am the man who did it.
DOROTHY : Don’t try to get away!
YOUNG MAN : I won’t, Miss Simple.
DOROTHY : Stand right where you are till the officer comes!
YOUNG MAN : You’re going to call the officer?
DOROTHY : Yes, I am, I certainly am. —In a minute. First I’d like to ask you
why
you
did
it? Why did you crush my petunias?
YOUNG MAN : Okay. I’ll tell you why. First, because you’d barricaded your house—and also your heart—behind that silly little double row of petunias!
DOROTHY : Barricaded? My house—my heart—behind them? That’s absurd. I don’t know what you mean.
YOUNG MAN : I know. They’re apparently such delicate, fragile creatures, these petunias, but they have a terrible resistance.
DOROTHY : Resistance to what, may I ask?
YOUNG MAN : Anything big or important that happens to come by your house. Nothing big or important can ever get by a double row of petunias! That is the reason why you are living alone with your canary and beginning to dislike it.
DOROTHY : Dislike my canary? I love it!
YOUNG MAN : Secretly, Miss Simple, you wish the birdseed would choke it! You dislike it nearly as much as you secretly disliked your petunias.
DOROTHY : Why should I, why should you, why should anybody dislike petunias!
YOUNG MAN : Our animosity and its resultant action is best explained by a poem
OFFICER : That’s a pretty large foot, Miss Simple, but lots of men have got large feet.
DOROTHY : Not in Primanproper, Massachusetts. Mr. Knowzit, the shoe clerk, assured me that there isn’t a man in town who wears a shoe that size. Of course you realize the danger of allowing this maniac to remain at large. Any man who would crush a sweet petunia is equally capable in my opinion of striking a helpless woman or kicking an innocent child!
OFFICER : I’ll do my best, Miss Simple. See yuh later.
DOROTHY [
curtly
]: Yes. Goodbye. [
Slams door. She returns behind her notion counter and drums restively with her pale pink-polished nails. The canary cheeps timidly. Then tries an arpeggio. Dorothy
,
to canary
.] Oh, hush up! [
Then contritely
.] Excuse me, please. My nerves are all to pieces!
[She blows her nose. The doorbell tinkles as a customer enters. He is a young man, shockingly large and aggressive looking in the flower-papered cubicle of the shop.]
Gracious, please be careful. You’re bumping your head against my chandelier.
YOUNG MAN [
good-humoredly
]: Sorry, Miss Simple. I guess I’d better sit down. [
The delicate little chair collapses beneath him
.]
DOROTHY : Heaven have mercy upon us! You seem to have a genius for destruction! You’ve broken that little antique chair to smithereens!
YOUNG MAN : Sorry, Miss Simple.
DOROTHY : I appreciate your sorrow, but that won’t mend my chair. —Is there anything I can show you in the way of notions?
YOUNG MAN : I’d like to see that pair of wine-colored socks you have in the window.
DOROTHY : What size socks do you wear?
YOUNG MAN : I keep forgetting. But my shoes are eleven D.
DOROTHY [
sharply
]: What size did you say? Eleven? Eleven D?
YOUNG MAN : That’s right, Miss Simple. Eleven D.
DOROTHY : Oh. Your shoes are rather muddy, aren’t they?
YOUNG MAN : That’s right, Miss Simple, I believe they are.
DOROTHY : Quite muddy. It looks like you might have stepped in a freshly watered flower bed last night.
YOUNG MAN : Come to think of it, that’s what I did.
DOROTHY : I don’t suppose you’ve heard about that horrible case of petunia crushing which occurred last night?
YOUNG MAN : As a matter of fact, I have heard something about it.
DOROTHY : From the policeman on the corner?
YOUNG MAN : No, ma’am. Not from him.
DOROTHY : Who from, then? He’s the only man who knows about it except—except—except—the man who
did
it! [
Pause. The canary cheeps inquiringly
.] You—you—
you
—are the man who
did
it!
YOUNG MAN : Yes, Miss Simple. I am the man who did it.
DOROTHY : Don’t try to get away!
YOUNG MAN : I won’t, Miss Simple.
DOROTHY : Stand right where you are till the officer comes!
YOUNG MAN : You’re going to call the officer?
DOROTHY : Yes, I am, I certainly am. —In a minute. First I’d like to ask you
why
you
did
it? Why did you crush my petunias?
YOUNG MAN : Okay. I’ll tell you why. First, because you’d barricaded your house—and also your heart—behind that silly little double row of petunias!
DOROTHY : Barricaded? My house—my heart—behind them? That’s absurd. I don’t know what you mean.
YOUNG MAN : I know. They’re apparently such delicate, fragile creatures, these petunias, but they have a terrible resistance.
DOROTHY : Resistance to what, may I ask?
YOUNG MAN : Anything big or important that happens to come by your house. Nothing big or important can ever get by a double row of petunias! That is the reason why you are living alone with your canary and beginning to dislike it.
DOROTHY : Dislike my canary? I love it!
YOUNG MAN : Secretly, Miss Simple, you wish the birdseed would choke it! You dislike it nearly as much as you secretly disliked your petunias.
DOROTHY : Why should I, why should you, why should anybody dislike petunias!
YOUNG MAN : Our animosity and its resultant action is best explained by a poem
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