Nick I’m disgusted.

Joe Yeah? Why?

Nick Why should I get worked up over a guy like that? Why should I hate him? He’s nothing. He’s nobody. He’s a mouse. But every time he comes into this place I get burned up. He doesn’t want to drink. He doesn’t want to sit down. He doesn’t want to take things easy. Tell me one thing?

Joe Do my best.

Nick What’s a punk like that want to go out and try to change the world for?

Joe (amazed) Does he want to change the world, too?

Nick (irritated) You know what I mean. What’s he want to bother people for? He’s sick.

Joe (almost to himself, reflecting on the fact that Blick too wants to change the world) I guess he wants to change the world at that.

Nick So I go to work and hate him.

Joe It’s not him, Nick. It’s everything.

Nick Yeah, I know. But I’ve still got no use for him. He’s no good. You know what I mean? He hurts little people. (Confused.) One of the girls tried to commit suicide on account of him. (Furiously.) I’ll break his head if he hurts anybody around here. This is my joint. (Afterthought.) Or anybody’s feelings, either.

Joe He may not be so bad, deep down underneath.

Nick I know all about him. He’s no good.

During this talk Wesley has really begun to play the piano, the toy is rattling again and little by little Harry has begun to dance. Nick has come around the bar, and now, very much like a child – forgetting all his anger – is watching the toy work. He begins to smile at everything; turns and listens to Wesley; watches Harry; nods at the Arab; shakes his head at Dudley; and gestures amiably about Willie. It’s his joint all right. It’s a good, low-down, honky-tonk American place that lets people alone.

Nick I’ve got a good joint. There’s nothing wrong here. Hey. Comedian. Stick to the dancing tonight. I think you’re OK. Wesley? Do some more of that tonight. That’s fine!

Harry Thanks, Nick. Gosh, I’m on my way at last. (On telephone.) Hello, Ma? Is that you, Ma? Harry. I got the job. (He hangs up and walks around, smiling.)

Nick (watching the toy all this time) Say, that really is something. What is that, anyway?

Mary L comes in.

Joe (holding it toward Nick and Mary L) Nick, this is a toy. A contraption devised by the cunning of man to drive boredom, or grief, or anger out of children. A noble gadget. A gadget, I might say, infinitely nobler than any other I can think of at the moment.

Everybody gathers around Joe’s table to look at the toy. The toy stops working. Joe winds the music box. Lifts a whistle; blows it, making a very strange, funny and sorrowful sound.

Joe Delightful. Tragic, but delightful.

Wesley plays the music-box theme on the piano. Mary L takes a table.