DRAMATIS PERSONÆ :
A Bridegroom.
A Best Man.
SCENE.
The vestry room of a Baltimore church. A pile of dog-eared hymn books in one corner. In the centre a decayed walnut table, with a green baize top—vintage of 1876. Four chairs of unearthly and mutually antagonistic designs. A clergyman’s plug hat on the table. A cracked mirror on the wall. Beside it are half a dozen hooks for hanging clothes and beyond them a thermometer. The latter registers 87½º Fahrenheit.
TIME.
A suffocating afternoon in early June.
As the curtain rises the Bridegroom and Best Man enter by the street door. They are dressed in hot, uncomfortable wedding coats, with high, glossy collars and white Ascot ties as thick as door mats. Beads of perspiration shine upon their foreheads. For a minute or two they stand there, regarding each other stupidly, saying ‘Whew!” “Oh!” and “Good Lord!” Then, with one accord, they take off their silk hats, tight gloves, frock coats and waistcoats and sink into chairs.
THE BEST MAN
Well, you picked out a scorcher for your wedding day.
THE BRIDEGROOM
(In bad humor) Who picked it out? I? Not on your life. I had nothing to do with it.
THE BEST MAN
All the same, you stood for it.
THE BRIDEGROOM
(Growing excited) What could I do? Such things are managed by the women. The Old Lady insisted on this week, and so I had to fall for it. As for me, I wanted to have it done and over in March.
THE BEST MAN
(Philosophically) Well, you’ve had your warning. Keep an eye on that mother-in-law. I don’t like her looks. I rather think she believes in slavery.
THE BRIDEGROOM
In what?
THE BEST MAN
In slavery. And if you don’t look sharp you’ll be the slave. She’ll have a clothespin on your nose before you know it.
THE BRIDEGROOM
Not on your life! You know me pretty well. I don’t eat out of anybody’s hand! (He goes to the mirror and begins to struggle nervously with his collar.)
THE BEST MAN
(Chuck ling) You don’t, don’t you?
THE BRIDEGROOM
I certainly do not.
THE BEST MAN
Well, then, how do you account for your presence here today?
THE BRIDEGROOM
(Oratorically) See here, what difference does it make whether I am married in March or married in June? In the long run what are the odds?
THE BEST MAN
True enough! What is the difference between dying of smallpox and dying of yellow fever? None at all!
THE BRIDEGROOM
Oh, very well! Go ahead! But let me tell you, if you have any curiosity about it, that in my house I am—(The organ in the church begins to sound. Apparently the organist is taking a hack at Mendelssohn’s “Spring Song.”) What’s that?
THE BEST MAN
Goodness knows. It sounds like a waltz.
THE BRIDEGROOM
(In a sudden panic) Waltz, your grandmother! It’s the wedding march! They are here! Come on! Get on your coat! (He jumps into his own waistcoat and coat, claps on his hat and tugs at his gloves. His complexion turns to a bluish white.)
THE BEST MAN
(Jumping up and laying hands on him) Be calm, old fellow, be calm. What’s the hurry? That isn’t the wedding march.
THE BRIDEGROOM
It isn’t?
THE BEST MAN
No, of course not. That’s just the little tune that the organist plays while the crowd is coming in. The wedding march starts with a loud smash. It goes like this: Bing, bing, debing! You can’t miss it. Trust to me.
THE BRIDEGROOM
But suppose they were to come in—and we didn’t start out in time! What an appalling mess it would make!
THE BEST MAN
Well, there’s no law against it. Nine-tenths of the people out there would be tickled to death. It would give a comic touch to the show. Ordinarily, it’s pretty dull.
THE BRIDEGROOM
Well, let that happen at somebody else’s wedding. As for me, I want everything to go off smoothly, and without unnecessary humor.
THE BEST MAN
Just trust to me. I am the old, original professor. Some call me the greatest living master of wedding technique. I never make a mistake.
THE BRIDEGROOM
(Mopping his brow) Whew! How hot! I am dying!
THE BEST MAN
(Maliciously) It’ll be ten times as bad at the reception. It always is. Just imagine a small room packed to the doors with fat women and old maids! What are they going to have to drink?
THE BRIDEGROOM
Nothing, I suppose. (Apologetically) The Old Lady, you know, is one of those anti-rum fanatics.
THE BEST MAN
Stung! And that’s to be my reward for all this torture!
THE BRIDEGROOM
(Virtuously) Oh, well, it won’t kill you. On the level, I think it would do you a lot of good to put the soft pedal on the rum. You talk as if alcohol were actually a necessity.
THE BEST MAN
(Pricking up his ears) Har, har! So the fair young bridegroom has turned over a new leaf! On the wagon now, are you?
THE BRIDEGROOM
My own idea, I assure you. It seems to me that when a man takes on responsibilities he should give up bad habits. In fact, it goes without saying.
THE BEST MAN
All the same, I venture to bet that it has been said.
THE BRIDEGROOM
What do you mean?
THE BEST MAN
I mean that ma-in-law has been whispering into your shell-like ear.
THE BRIDEGROOM
(Hotly) Ma-in-law be d——!
THE BEST MAN
(Interrupting) Sacrilege! Treason!
THE BRIDEGROOM
(Defiantly) Let me tell you this: If that excellent lady ever attempts—
(The first notes of the wedding march are heard and the sound of general rustling comes from the church. THE BRIDEGROOM and BEST MAN jump to their feet, struggle into their coats, tug at their collars and go to the door. THE BRIDEGROOM rushes back for his hat and claps it on.)
THE BEST MAN
Here, you ass, take off that hat!
THE BRIDEGROOM
(Nervously) What am I to do with it?
THE BEST MAN
Leave it on the table.
THE BRIDEGROOM
But how am I to get it again?
THE BEST MAN
(Humorously) You never will get it—if the preacher sees it first.
THE BRIDEGROOM
Hang it all, I’m going to take it along.
THE BEST MAN
Leave it, I tell you! The sexton’ll bring it around to the night hack.
THE BRIDEGROOM
(Growing more and more agitated) Where is the ring? (He plows through his pockets in alarm.) I can’t find it.
THE BEST MAN
Well, we’ll use a cigar band.
THE BRIDEGROOM
Cigar band nothing! (Distracted) Where is that ring? (He begins to go through all his pockets again.)
THE BEST MAN
In your hand.
THE BRIDEGROOM
Aha!
THE BEST MAN
Now, just watch me and keep your nerve. Start off with your right foot and walk slowly! Now, then, here she goes! (He opens the door and the two start out. THE BRIDE ’s party, which has just started up the aisle, has monopolized all eyes. Only the preacher casts a kindly glance at the two neglected wayfarers. Both trip upon the carpet. THE BRIDEGROOM drops the ring and THE BEST MAN reaches down for it, like a cowboy picking up a handkerchief from horseback.)
THE BEST MAN
You pie-faced chimpanzee! You disgrace to the human race!
THE BRIDEGROOM
(The cold perspiration running down his nose) Go to the devil!
THE BEST MAN
Fool!
[CURTAIN.]