. Anyway, some of the guys started calling me Grace. It was my own fault, I guess.

 

 

 

 

LAURA

 

 

Nicknames can be terrible. I remember at one time I was called "Beany." I can't remember why, now, but I remember it made me mad.

 

 

(She adjusts the dress a little)

 

 

Hold still a moment. We'll have to let this out around here.

 

 

(She indicates the bosom)

 

 

What size do you want to be?

 

 

 

 

TOM

 

 

(He is embarrassed, but rather nicely, not obviously and farcically. In his embarrassment he looks at LAURA's bosom, then quickly away)

 

 

I don't know. Whatever you think.

 

 

 

 

LAURA (She indicates he is to stand on a small wooden footstool)

 

 

I should think you would have invited some girl up to see you act, and then take her to the dance.

 

 

 

 

TOM (Gets on stool)

 

 

There's nobody I could ask.

 

 

 

 

LAURA (Working on hem of dress)

 

 

What do you mean?

 

 

 

 

TOM

 

 

I don't know any girls, really.

 

 

 

 

LAURA

 

 

Oh, certainly back home . . .

 

 

 

 

TOM

 

 

Last ten years I haven't been home, I mean really home. Summers my father packs me off to camps, and the rest of the time I've been at boarding schools.

 

 

 

 

LAURA

 

 

What about Christmas vacation, and Easter?

 

 

 

 

TOM

 

 

My father gets a raft of tickets to plays and concerts, and sends me and my aunt.

 

 

 

 

LAURA

 

 

I see.

 

 

 

 

TOM

 

 

So I mean it when I say I don't know any girls.

 

 

 

 

LAURA

 

 

Your roommate, Al, knows a lot of girls. Why not ask him to fix you up with a blind date?

 

 

 

 

TOM

 

 

I don't know . . . I can't even dance. I'm telling you this so you won't expect anything of me Saturday night.

 

 

 

 

LAURA

 

 

We'll sit out and talk.

 

 

 

 

TOM

 

 

Okay.

 

 

 

 

LAURA

 

 

Or I could teach you how to dance. It's quite simple.

 

 

 

 

TOM (Flustered)

 

 

You?

 

 

 

 

LAURA

 

 

Why not?

 

 

 

 

TOM

 

 

I mean, isn't a person supposed to go to some sort of dancing class or something?

 

 

(He gets down from footstool.)

 

 

LAURA

 

 

Not necessarily. Look, I'll show you how simple it is.

 

 

(She assumes the dancing position)

 

 

Hold your left hand out this way, and put your right hand around my --

 

 

(She stops, as she sees him looking at her)

 

 

Oh, now you're kidding me. A boy your age and you don't know how to dance.

 

 

 

 

TOM

 

 

I'm not kidding you.

 

 

 

 

LAURA

 

 

Well, then, come on. I had to teach my husband. Put your arm around me.

 

 

(She raises her arms.)

 

 

 

 

TOM (Looks at her a moment, afraid to touch this woman he loves. Then to pass it off)

 

 

We better put it off. We'd look kind of silly, both of us in skirts.

 

 

 

 

LAURA

 

 

All right. Take it off, then. No, wait a minute. Just let me stand off and take a look . . .

 

 

(She walks around him)

 

 

You're going to make a very lovely girl.

 

 

 

 

TOM

 

 

Thank you, ma'am . . .

 

 

(He kids a curtsy, like a girl, and starts out of his costume. MR. HARRIS, a good-looking young master, comes in the hallway and starts up to Tom's room. On the landing, he knocks on Tom's door.)

 

 

 

 

LAURA

 

 

I wonder who that is?

 

 

 

 

TOM

 

 

All the other fellows have late afternoon classes.

 

 

 

 

LAURA (Opens the door wider, and looks up the stairs)

 

 

Yes? Oh, David.

 

 

 

 

HARRIS (Turns and looks down the stairs)

 

 

Oh, hello, Laura.

 

 

 

 

LAURA

 

 

I just was wondering who was coming in.

 

 

(TOM proceeds to get out of the costume.)

 

 

 

 

HARRIS

 

 

I want to see Tom Lee.

 

 

 

 

LAURA

 

 

He's down here. I'm making his costume for the play.

 

 

 

 

HARRIS

 

 

I wonder if I could see him for a moment?

 

 

 

 

LAURA

 

 

Why yes, of course.