VANDERGELDER:

No, sir! A living is made, Mr. Kemper, by selling something that everybody needs at least once a year. Yes, sir! And a million is made by producing something that everybody needs every day. You artists produce something that nobody needs at any time. You may sell a picture once in a while, but you’ll make no living. Joe, go over there and stamp three times. I want to talk to Cornelius.

JOE crosses to trap door and stamps three times.

AMBROSE:

Not only can I support her now, but I have considerable expectations.

VANDERGELDER:

Expectations! We merchants don’t do business with them. I don’t keep accounts with people who promise somehow to pay something someday, and I don’t allow my niece to marry such people.

AMBROSE:

Very well, from now on you might as well know that I regard any way we can find to get married is right and fair. Ermengarde is of age, and there’s no law . . .

VANDERGELDER rises and crosses toward Ambrose, JOE SCANLON follows him complainingly and tries to find a chance to cut his hair even while he is standing.

VANDERGELDER:

Law? Let me tell you something, Mr. Kemper: most of the people in the world are fools. The law is there to prevent crime; we men of sense are there to prevent foolishness. It’s I, and not the law, that will prevent Ermengarde from marrying you, and I’ve taken some steps already. I’ve sent her away to get this nonsense out of her head.

AMBROSE:

Ermengarde’s . . . not here?

VANDERGELDER:

She’s gone—east, west, north, south. I thank you for the honor of your visit.

Enter GERTRUDE—eighty; deaf; half blind; and very pleased with herself.

GERTRUDE:

Everything’s ready, Mr. Vandergelder. Ermengarde and I have just finished packing the trunk.

VANDERGELDER:

Hold your tongue!

JOE is shaving Vandergelder’s throat, so he can only wave his hands vainly.

GERTRUDE:

Yes, Mr. Vandergelder, Ermengarde’s ready to leave. Her trunk’s all marked. Care Miss Van Huysen, 8 Jackson Street, New York.

VANDERGELDER:

Breaking away from Joe.

Hell and damnation! Didn’t I tell you it was a secret?

AMBROSE:

Picks up hat and coat—kisses Gertrude.

Care Miss Van Huysen, 8 Jackson Street, New York. Thank you very much. Good morning, Mr. Vandergelder.

Exit AMBROSE, to the street.

VANDERGELDER:

It won’t help you, Mr. Kemper—

To Gertrude.

Deaf! And blind! At least you can do me the favor of being dumb!

GERTRUDE:

Chk—chk! Such a temper! Lord save us!

CORNELIUS puts his head up through the trap door. He is thirty-three; mock-deferential—he wears a green apron and is in his shirt-sleeves.

CORNELIUS:

Yes, Mr. Vandergelder?

VANDERGELDER:

Go in and get my niece’s trunk and carry it over to the station. Wait! Gertrude, has Mrs. Levi arrived yet?

CORNELIUS comes up the trap door, steps into the room and closes the trap door behind him.

GERTRUDE:

Don’t shout. I can hear perfectly well. Everything’s clearly marked.

Exit left.

VANDERGELDER:

Have the buggy brought round to the front of the store in half an hour.