ANNOUNCER:

The Columbia Workshop presents "Highboy" by Eustace Wyatt, adapted from William Francis' short story "Too Far Gone."

MUSIC:

BRIEF INTRODUCTION

SARAH:

What on earth is the matter with you, Peter? Even a four-year-old child would have enough sense to lead me a diamond after the way I signaled.

PETER:

I'm sorry, Sarah. I thought I might make--

SARAH:

(DISMISSIVE) Thought, thought! That's exactly what you did not do! I don't believe you have a thought in your head. I'm glad you aren't my husband. (LIGHTLY) Hm! I don't see how you manage to put up with him, Martha.

MARTHA:

(CHUCKLES) Oh, we manage to muddle along pretty smoothly. Don't we, Peter darling?

PETER:

(LIGHTLY) Well, neither of us has been arrested for assault and battery up to the time of writing.

MARTHA:

(CHUCKLES)

SARAH:

Well, perhaps not, but, nonetheless, if you belonged to me, I'd chain you to the bedpost every time I went out to play bridge.

MARTHA:

Aw, now come, Sarah, you mustn't take it so seriously. You know, I--

SOUND:

PHONE RINGS

MARTHA:

Well, I should like to--

SARAH:

(INTERRUPTS) Er, let me answer it; I expect it's Tommy. (MOVING OFF) He said he might call for me.

SOUND:

RECEIVER UP, OFF

SARAH:

(OFF, INTO PHONE) Hello? -- Yes, this is the Barrys' apartment. -- This is Mrs. Waite speaking. --- What, again? -- (EXHALES UNHAPPILY) But I can't come now. No.

MARTHA:

(TO PETER, LOW) Oh, I wonder if it's Aunt Etta.

PETER:

(TO MARTHA, LOW) I hope not, darling. Although I didn't much like the way she was looking yesterday.

SARAH:

(EXHALES, ANNOYED) Well, I suppose if it's as bad as that, I'd better come over. -- All right, I - I'll leave here in a few minutes.

SOUND:

RECEIVER DOWN, OFF

MARTHA:

(WORRIED) Oh, it is Aunt Etta; I know it! Is she very bad, Sarah?

SARAH:

(UNCARING) Well, Mrs. Garrett says she's pretty far gone -- and wants to see me -- so I suppose I'd better go. I do think it's a shame to have our party broken up like this.

MARTHA:

Oh, Sarah, how can you say such a thing? Why, you know Aunt Etta thinks the world of you. She's always talking about you.

SARAH:

Hm! A lot of good it does me. What shall I ever get out of her? Or any of the rest of you for that matter.

MARTHA:

Well, the poor thing hasn't anything to give us. We ought to do everything we can. I do hope she isn't as bad as Mrs. Garrett says. I think I'll go over with you--

SARAH:

(INTERRUPTS) No, no, I'd rather go alone. Too much excitement might be bad for her.

MARTHA:

(PUZZLED) Funny you should say that after the way you've just been talking.

SARAH:

(SHARPLY) What's funny about it? Anyway, I don't want you to come. I've told you I'd rather go alone.

MARTHA:

Yes, but I might be able to do something. I hate to think of her being uncomfortable and - and perhaps suffering.

SARAH:

(DISMISSIVE) Uncomfortable? Suffering? Oh, don't talk nonsense. You don't care about that any more than I do.

MARTHA:

(SURPRISED) Why, Sarah, what do you mean? Why, I love dear old Aunt Etta.

SARAH:

(MIMICS HER, MOCKINGLY) "Why, Sarah, what do you mean? I love dear old Aunt Etta. I love dear old Aunt Etta." (CHUCKLES)

PETER:

(STERNLY) Now listen, Sarah, I think we've had enough of this. Anyway, I don't want any more of it. You can abuse me as much as you like -- I'm only your sister's husband -- but you can't abuse your sister because she happens to be my wife.

MARTHA:

Now, Peter, please--

PETER:

Never mind the "now, Peter, please" stuff. If you're fool enough to take any of the topping this termagant of a sister of yours is vicious enough to sling at you-- Well I'm not cheap enough to let you, so that's that! And as for you, Sarah, the sooner you go, the better!

SARAH:

Don't I know it! Suppose I hadn't been here when the call came. That would have been nice, wouldn't it? You and that precious wife of yours would have been over there like a brace of ghouls -- and you'd've had that highboy out of the living room before the breath had left her body!

MARTHA:

(WOUNDED) Oh, Sarah! (SOBS GENTLY BEHIND--)

SARAH:

Don't "Oh, Sarah" me. Do you think I don't know?! Hypocritical fawning schemers. "I love dear old Aunt Etta." Well, you can love her as much as you want to, but I'm going over to see her while she still loves me! And don't think you can ever get that highboy! It belongs to me! (MOVING OFF) It's mine, do you hear?! It's mine!

SOUND:

DOOR SLAMS OFF AS SARAH EXITS

MARTHA:

(SOBS, TEARFUL) Oh, Peter dear. To think that my only sister should talk like that me in my own house.

PETER:

(SOOTHING) Now, never mind, darling. She was all upset because I didn't return her diamond lead in that last hand. She didn't mean it, she didn't mean it.

MARTHA:

(WEEPING) I don't suppose she did, but, Peter-- Peter, I - I'd rather have dear old Aunt Etta than all the highboys in the world. (WEEPS)

SOUND:

SCENE FADES OUT ... TRANSITIONAL PAUSE ... SCENE FADES IN ... SARAH'S STEPS ON STAIRS ... THEN OUT BEHIND--

SARAH:

(EXHALES, TO HERSELF) I wonder how many more times I'll have to climb these dreadful stairs.

SOUND:

DOOR OPENS, OFF

SARAH:

(EXHALES, TO MRS. G) Oh, there you are, Mrs. Garrett. Mrs. Beechum must be pretty bad for you to be telephoning for me all over town like this.

MRS. G:

Aye, indeed, ma'am, it's bad she is. I was goin' in wi' her milk and she was just lyin' there gasping for breath. I runs to her and I says, "Ay, Mrs. Bowshum ma'am, are you very bad?" I says. And the poor dear can hardly speak above a whisper, and she says, "You'd better call my dear niece Sarah Waite," she says, and I ran all the way to call ye and called four places before I found ye--

SARAH:

(INTERRUPTS IMPATIENTLY) Yes, yes. Yes, I can imagine the rest of it.

MRS. G:

Oh, it 'taint 'maginin'; it's gospel I'm tellin' ya. And it cost me twenty cents of me own money. Not that I'm mindin' that, fer there ain't anything I wouldn't do for the poor dear. (TEARFUL) After dyin' and leavin' us, I'll never be gettin' another "third-floor" like poor dear Mrs. Bowshum. And I--

SARAH:

(INTERRUPTS, ANNOYED) Oh, do be quiet! And don't use that ridiculous "Bowshum." Her name is Beechum. Even though she does say her husband was a Frenchman. Hm! Frenchman indeed! None of us ever saw him.

MRS. G:

Ah, pardon, ma'am, but she always likes me to call her Bowshum. Will you be goin' right in to her?

SARAH:

Yes, but you'd better not go downstairs again until I see if there's anything more you can do.

MRS. G:

All right, ma'am. I'll be stayin' right back here.

SOUND:

SCENE FADES OUT ... TRANSITIONAL PAUSE ... SCENE FADES IN

SARAH:

(GENTLE AND SWEET) Aunt Etta? Aunt Etta? Are you awake, auntie darling?

ETTA:

(WEAKLY) Who is it? Is it you, Sarah?

SARAH:

Yes, auntie, it's Sarah. Your own dear Sarah.

ETTA:

Oh, my dear, I'm so glad you've come. Even the sound of your voice makes me feel better.

SARAH:

(CHUCKLES WARMLY)

ETTA:

I don't think even you can do me much good now.

SARAH:

Oh, come, come, Aunt Etta, you mustn't talk like that. Why, you're going to be with us for years and years. Why, what do you think would become of us, if - if you were to go away and leave?

ETTA:

Oh, always the same dear sweet Sarah.

SARAH:

(MODEST) Oh--!

ETTA:

You were always so kind to your poor old Aunt Etta. I - I couldn't bear to die if you weren't with me, darling. Think of it. Mauriette Bowshawm, dying alone in a shabby, second-rate boardinghouse. But you - you won't let that happen, will you?

SARAH:

Oh, of course not, auntie. But you mustn't even think about such things.

ETTA:

No.

SARAH:

Now that I'm here, don't you--? Don't you think you'd better get some sleep? Try, won't you? I'll, uh-- I'll sit with Mrs. Garrett in the next room.

ETTA:

(INCREASINGLY DROWSY) No, no. Stay with me, Sarah. Maybe a little sleep would do me good. But stay with me, please. Stay with-- Mauriette-- Mauriette Bowshawm-- You ought to see my husband. He - he's so handsome. He's so--

SARAH:

Poor dear. Go to sleep.

SOUND:

SCENE FADES OUT ... TRANSITIONAL PAUSE ... SCENE FADES IN ... DOOR CLOSES QUIETLY

MRS. G:

Ay, ma'am, is poor dear any better?

SARAH:

(HER OLD CRUEL SELF) She's gone to sleep, but she isn't any better. Never will be. As a matter of fact, it wouldn't surprise me if she doesn't wake up.

MRS. G:

Oh, dear! Do you think I'd better call Doctor?

SARAH:

No, no. Not not just now. I'll - I'll go in and look at her again in a few minutes. Um, where does she keep her sewing things?

MRS. G:

Over there on th' table. Is there anything I can be doing for you, ma'am?

SARAH:

No, I don't want any sewing done. I want a tape measure.

MRS. G:

You'll find it on top. (SADLY) She was using it herself only two days ago.

SARAH:

Oh, yes, here it is, I've got it. Now, er, take this end. I - I want you to help me measure the highboy. Er, hold it close to the floor. (BEAT) Let's see, er-- (SLOWLY) Thirty-two inches high. That's right. (BEAT, SLOWLY) And the length, er, sixty-eight inches. Now across. (BEAT, SLOWLY) Thirty-four. (MUSES) Sixty-eight by thirty-four-- (PLEASED) Oh, that'll go beautifully on my north wall!

MRS. G:

And is she after givin' it ye, ma'am? She thinks a power of that old piece.

SARAH:

(BREEZY, CONFIDENT) Oh, no. She hasn't given it to me yet, but-- It will be mine when she's gone. And I don't think that'll be very long now.

SOUND:

TINKLE! AND GENTLE THUMP! OF A SMALL BELL KNOCKED TO THE FLOOR IN THE NEXT ROOM

MRS. G:

(SYMPATHETIC) Oh!

SARAH:

Yes, she's knocked her bell over. (DISAPPOINTED) She did wake up after all.

SOUND:

SCENE FADES OUT ... TRANSITIONAL PAUSE ... SCENE FADES IN

SARAH:

(GENTLE AND SWEET) Here I am, auntie dear. Were you trying to call me?

ETTA:

(EVEN WEAKER THAN BEFORE, SHE SPEAKS BROKENLY AND BREATHES WITH GREAT EFFORT) Yes, Sarah. I want to talk to you. Come close, my dear. I - I haven't much strength.

SARAH:

Do you think you ought to try to talk now, Aunt Etta? Wouldn't it be better if you just rested? Even if you can't sleep?

ETTA:

No, my dear. There's going to be plenty of rest for me very soon. I don't think it will be very long now at all.

SARAH:

Hush, auntie darling. Why, I've told you, you mustn't even think of such things. Why, you're going to be well again very soon; I - I know you are.

ETTA:

No, Sarah my dear. Never any more. I - I heard the doctor telling Mrs. Garrett I was pretty far gone. That's why I sent for you.

SARAH:

I'm so glad you did, even though I think the doctor is wrong. (LIGHTLY, BARELY HIDING HER GREED) Now, is there anything special you want to, er, say to me, auntie?

ETTA:

Yes, my dear -- there's a very great deal. You - you've always been so good to me, I feel that I can trust you.

SARAH:

Oh, of course you can. Why, I'd do anything for you, Aunt Etta.

ETTA:

Well then, my dear, when I'm gone, I want you to be careful of the little I shall leave behind me. There isn't much. The annuity my dear husband bought for me dies with me.

SARAH:

Oh, auntie, please, please. Don't--

ETTA:

Yes, my dear, I must. There - there be a little money from the insurance at death. Then there's my few little things around the living room.

SARAH:

Yes?

ETTA:

My Waterford glass bottles and-- And, Sarah my dear, don't spend too much on my funeral. I - I would have liked to lie beside my dear husband. But that's in France. It - it would cost too much.

SARAH:

Oh, auntie, please, please--

ETTA:

No. No, let me finish, Sarah. We - we must save what little we can -- for those who need it. Then there's the highboy--

SARAH:

(WITH GENUINE INTEREST) Yes? The highboy?

ETTA:

(DYING) I - I made a will. My friend Charlie Bowles, the lawyer, has it. And I - have seen to - to it - that you - shall - have-- (GIBBERS WEAKLY)

SARAH:

Auntie?

ETTA:

(GIBBERS QUIETLY, THEN TRAILS OFF TO SILENCE)

SARAH:

Auntie? (NO ANSWER) Auntie?! (PAUSE, THEN WITH CONTEMPT AND SATISFACTION) Hmph! Yes. I guess she's pretty far gone this time. Too far gone. (CALLS, SHARPLY) Mrs. Garrett? (NO ANSWER) Mrs. Garrett! Come here quickly!

SOUND:

DOOR OPENS, OFF

SARAH:

Mrs. Garrett, run right down to the corner and telephone for Dr. Drake.

MRS. G:

Oh, mercy, what is it, ma'am? Is she--?

SARAH:

Yes. Yes, I think she is. Don't stand there sniveling. Run and call the doctor.

MRS. G:

Aye, I'll run as fast as my legs'll carry me! (MOVING OFF, TEARFUL) Oh, the poor dear soul!

SARAH:

(BEAT) Now, what did I do with that tape measure? Ah, here it is. (SLOWLY AS SHE RE-MEASURES THE HIGHBOY) Yes, sixty-eight by thirty-four. (PLEASED) Oh, it'll look lovely against the north wall facing the windows. (QUIETLY TRIUMPHANT) Oh, you beautiful thing. You belong to me! Aunt Etta made a will! She made a will! Now let Martha try to take it from me.

SOUND:

SCENE FADES OUT ... TRANSITIONAL PAUSE

SARAH:

(COOL, MATTER-OF-FACT) She was breathing heavily, but she wasn't suffering at all.

PETER:

Were you with her right at the end, Sarah?

SARAH:

Yes, Peter, right to the end.

MARTHA:

Oh, I'm so glad she wasn't all alone. Did she know you?

SARAH:

Oh, yes, Martha, she knew me. She was quite rational, but very weak.

MARTHA:

Could she talk?

SARAH:

Yes. Yes, she talked quite a lot.

PETER:

Well, what about?

SARAH:

Well, for one thing, she told me she knew she was dying.

MARTHA:

Oh, did she really say that?

SARAH:

Yes, she was quite calm about it. Didn't seem to mind it a bit.

MARTHA:

Well, what else did she say?

SARAH:

She said she didn't want too much money spent on her funeral.

MARTHA:

The poor dear old thing. Oh, how dreadful!

SARAH:

Dreadful? I don't see anything dreadful about it. She said she wanted to save what little money there was for those that need it.

MARTHA:

Well, that's just what I mean. She - she was always thinking about others and what she could do for them, even to the point of denying herself a decent funeral.

SARAH:

Well, as far as I can see, there's no reason why we shouldn't give her that. But I think we ought not to be extravagant about it.

PETER:

I agree with you there, Sarah. I don't think we should spend more than a hundred and fifty dollars for the casket.

SARAH:

(SURPRISED) A hundred and fifty dollars?

PETER:

Yes, I think that would be enough.

SARAH:

Yes, I should think it would be enough.

PETER:

And we can get her a nice plot in Burnley for forty dollars.

SARAH:

(SURPRISED) Forty?

MARTHA:

And I don't think we should need more than six cars.

SARAH:

(ABSENTLY DOING THE MATH) Six cars--

MARTHA:

How much do cars cost, Peter?

PETER:

Well, it depends on the distance. I should think they would charge about fifteen dollars each to Burnley.

SARAH:

Fifteen dollars each--

MARTHA:

Of course, we - we can each send our own flowers--

SARAH:

(EXPLODES) Flowers?! Fiddlesticks! A hundred and fifty dollars for a casket, $40 for a plot in Burnley, $90 for six cars, two hundred and eighty dollars for a nice inexpensive funeral and then you say we can send our own flowers?! Well, I tell you, I'm not going to send any!

MARTHA:

Why, Sarah!

SARAH:

Oh, you needn't "Why, Sarah" me. Two hundred and eighty dollars for a funeral and then you talk about flowers! I think it's outrageous!

PETER:

(STERN) Now, Sarah, I think you're very harsh to talk like this.

SARAH:

Harsh?!

PETER:

Yes, harsh. Think of Aunt Etta's kindness to everybody she knew. She never begrudged anything to anybody.

SARAH:

And well I know it! There'd be more for us if she had. And we wouldn't have to sit here skimping on the cost of burying her.

PETER:

Well, it's you who are doing the skimping.

SARAH:

As a matter of fact it isn't skimping. I'm only trying to be practical. Almost with her last breath Aunt Etta told me not to spend too much on her funeral, to save the money for those that need it! And we do need it, don't we? Well then, let's carry out her last wish and save it. You call me harsh; the trouble with you, Peter, is that you haven't any head!

PETER:

And you haven't any heart!

SARAH:

Heart or no, I--

SOUND:

DOOR OPENS

MRS. G:

(IN GRIEF, READY TO CRY) If you please, ma'am--?

SARAH:

(CRISP) Well, what it is now, Mrs. Garrett?

MRS. G:

The woman from the undertaker's wants to know if you've got the dress to put on her.

SARAH:

No, not yet. But, if the woman's done everything else that's necessary, tell her she may go away.

MRS. G:

All right.

SARAH:

We'll attend to the dressing ourselves.

MRS. G:

The poor dear looks so calm and peaceful--

SARAH:

(INTERRUPTS, DISMISSIVE) That will do, Mrs. Garrett. Go and give the woman my message.

MRS. G:

(TEARFUL) I will, mum, for it's happy I am to be knowin' that her own folk'll be dressin' her for the last time. (MOVING OFF) The poor dear soul!

SOUND:

DOOR CLOSES AS MRS. G EXITS

SARAH:

(WITH CONTEMPT) Sniveling old harpy. The only thing she cares about is losing a tenant for this dingy old third floor of hers. (BEAT) Well? What were you going to say, Peter?

PETER:

I was wondering if I hadn't better take Martha down to see about the dress.

SARAH:

Certainly not. We'll use one of the dresses that she used to wear around the house. What's the use of spending money on a dress just to have it burned?

PETER:

Have it burned?

SARAH:

Yes, burned! I've made all the arrangements. She's going to be cremated at Crestwood at eleven o'clock tomorrow morning.

MARTHA:

Cremated? Oh, but auntie would be horrified at such a thing, Sarah!

SARAH:

(CHUCKLES) Well, she won't know very much about it, will she?

PETER:

Sarah, you're positively inhuman.

SARAH:

Well, maybe I am. But we can have her cremated for less than half the cost of burying her and that's what we're going to do.

PETER:

Very well, Sarah. Come, Martha, I think we'd better go.

SARAH:

Oh, no, don't go yet. Martha can help me look through auntie's things and see what we can find to put on her.

MARTHA:

(UPSET) Oh, Sarah, I - I couldn't! I just couldn't!

SARAH:

(MOCKING) Oh, you couldn't, you just couldn't! And you're the one who's been doing all the talking about what we ought to for "poor dear Aunt Etta." (SCOFFS)

MARTHA:

(CHASTENED) Very well, Sarah, I'll help you.

SARAH:

Well, come along then. We might just as well get it over with.

PETER:

Oh, Sarah, how long do you think you'll be?

SARAH:

About an hour, I suppose.

PETER:

Well, then I'm going out. I'll be back in an hour.

SARAH:

And where are you going, might I ask?

PETER:

I may just as well be frank with you. I'm going over to see Aunt Etta's lawyer, Mr. Bowles.

SARAH:

(LAUGHS) Go right ahead, and much good it may do you. Come along, Martha.

SOUND:

SCENE FADES OUT ... TRANSITIONAL PAUSE ... KNOCK ON DOOR

BOWLES:

Come in.

SOUND:

OFFICE DOOR OPENS ... THEN CLOSES BEHIND--

BOWLES:

Ah, Mr. Barry. I didn't expect to see you until tomorrow.

PETER:

Nor did I expect to see you, Mr. Bowles. I've come now because Martha and I are very much upset.

BOWLES:

Quite natural under the circumstances, Mr. Barry. I'm quite upset myself.

PETER:

I might as well come to the point at once, Mr. Bowles. It isn't only the fact of Aunt Etta's death that's worrying me.

BOWLES:

Indeed?

PETER:

You knew Aunt Etta very well, didn't you?

BOWLES:

I have known Madame Bowshawm for nearly fifty years. Met her in Paris just after she became engaged to her husband. Naturally, I've only seen her once or twice a year, but I always looked after any little business she wanted attended to.

PETER:

Have you seen my sister-in-law, Sarah Waite, since yesterday?

BOWLES:

I haven't seen her, Mr. Barry, but she telephoned me last night to tell me of your Aunt Etta's death.

PETER:

Did she say anything about arrangements for the funeral?

BOWLES:

She said that she would attend to everything that was necessary.

PETER:

Did she by any chance tell you that she intended to have Aunt Etta's body cremated?

BOWLES:

(WITH QUIET DISAPPROVAL) Cremated? No, Mr. Barry, she didn't. I assumed of course she was talking of ordinary burial. Her aunt was strongly opposed to cremation. You're surely aware of that?

PETER:

I am, and so is Sarah, but that seems to make no difference. She says she's carrying out Aunt Etta's last wishes by saving as much as possible on her funeral.

BOWLES:

Oh, dear. This really distresses me, Mr. Barry. I'll call on Mrs. Waite this evening and try to persuade her to change her mind.

PETER:

That wouldn't do the slightest good, Mr. Bowles. Martha and I have already done everything we know. Is it possible to get an order of restraint?

BOWLES:

Mrs. Waite is older than your wife, isn't she?

PETER:

Yes, by three years.

BOWLES:

Unfortunate. These two sisters are the only surviving heirs at law. In the event of conflict, the will of the senior would prevail.

PETER:

Then there's nothing we can do?

BOWLES:

I'm afraid not, Mr. Barry.

PETER:

Well then, I won't take up any more of your time.

BOWLES:

Unfortunately I shan't be able to go out to Crestwood in the morning, but perhaps I shall see you here with your sisters in the afternoon. They're coming for the reading of the will. I've asked Mrs. Garrett to come, too. I think we might meet at three o'clock.

SOUND:

SCENE FADES OUT ... TRANSITIONAL PAUSE ... SCENE FADES IN

SARAH:

There! Why, she looks almost beautiful, doesn't she? I knew we'd find something if we looked through her things.

MARTHA:

(QUIETLY MOVED) Poor auntie. And yet she does look happy, doesn't she?

SARAH:

(CONCEDES) Mmm.

MARTHA:

(EXPLODES) Oh, Sarah, won't you change your mind before it's too late? Don't have her cremated! Now, please don't have her cremated!

SARAH:

Oh, be quiet, Martha. You ought to be ashamed of yourself, making a scene in the presence of the dead. (CHANGES THE SUBJECT) Don't you think we ought to have a little bit of something to relieve the blackness at the top of the dress?

MARTHA:

Well, there are some odds and ends of things in that box at the bottom of her trunk.

SARAH:

Oh. Well, get them out.

MARTHA:

Well-- Yes, here it is, Sarah.

SOUND:

BOX LIFTED AND OPENED

SARAH:

Hm. Rubbishy-looking stuff, most of it. Still, we might find something. Oh, this is pretty. 'Tisn't suitable though; it ought to be white. What's that you've got there?

MARTHA:

This?

SARAH:

Oh, that won't do either; it's too narrow.

MARTHA:

Well, here's something, Sarah. A scarf. It - it's beautiful.

SARAH:

Yes! It's lovely! Er, much too good to burn, though. Put it over there on the chair; I'll use it on my new black velvet. Isn't there anything else?

MARTHA:

No, there doesn't seem to be. Oh, here's a little bit of lace. (DISAPPOINTED) Oh-- Oh, what a pity. There's a tear in it.

SARAH:

Oh, give it to me; that's all right. (SATISFIED) Yes, we'll use this.

MARTHA:

But it's torn, Sarah!

SARAH:

That doesn't make any difference. We can tuck the torn part inside the dress. (BEAT) There! That's it. You can't see the tear now. (PLEASED) That's just the little touch we needed to relieve the black. Funny how a little thing like that brightens the whole effect. (BEAT) She looks nicer now than she ever did. (BEAT) Well, that's all, Martha. Let's go in the living room and wait for Peter.

SOUND:

SCENE FADES OUT ... TRANSITIONAL PAUSE

PETER:

(IN CLOSE) Well, Sarah--

SARAH:

(MILDLY STARTLED) Oh. You're back, are you, Peter? Don't you want to go in and see Aunt Etta?

PETER:

No, I'd rather not. If there isn't anything else for Martha to do, I'll take her home now.

SARAH:

All right, I shan't need her any more. You - see the lawyer?

PETER:

Yes, I saw him.

SARAH:

Well?

PETER:

I suppose we've got to let you have your own way.

SARAH:

(PLEASED) What did I tell you? Yes, you'd better take Martha home now. If there's anything else to be done, I'll get Mrs. Garrett to help me. Don't be late for the service in the morning, though.

PETER:

We'll be here at nine, but we will not go out to Crestwood.

SARAH:

Well, you can please yourselves about that. I'm going. Good night.

PETER:

Good night.

MARTHA:

Good night.

SOUND:

DOOR OPENS AND CLOSES AS PETER AND MARTHA EXIT

SARAH:

(MUSES SLOWLY, TO HERSELF) Well, that's that. -- Now let me see. I can use the cherrywood table beside my big chair. -- Mm-hmm, yes. What did I do with that tape measure? -- I better just measure that highboy again - to make certain.

SOUND:

SCENE FADES OUT ... TRANSITIONAL PAUSE

PETER:

Is Mr. Bowles in? He's expecting us.

MISS PLUNKETT:

He'll be here in a few minutes. Mr. and Mrs. Barry, isn't it?

PETER:

Yes.

MISS PLUNKETT:

Come right into his office, please. Mrs. Waite and Mrs. Garrett are there already.

PETER:

Thank you.

MISS PLUNKETT:

This way please.

SOUND:

OFFICE DOOR OPENS

PETER:

After you, Martha my dear.

SARAH:

Oh, it's you.

SOUND:

OFFICE DOOR CLOSES

MARTHA:

We aren't late, are we? It's only just three.

SARAH:

No, I was early. I came straight down from Crestwood and brought Mrs. Garrett with me. Hope this lawyer isn't going to keep us waiting; I haven't had lunch yet. (NO RESPONSE) Well? Why don't you say something? You look as if you were going to a funeral.

MARTHA:

(MILDLY OFFENDED) Oh, Sarah!

MRS. G:

(STILL GRIEVING) Aye, Mrs. Waite ma'am --- you do say such dreadful things.

SARAH:

(CHUCKLES) I was almost forgetting. (CHANGES SUBJECT) Oh, I, er-- I stopped at Ferns' antique shop on the way down and asked how much it would cost to refinish the highboy. They're going over to see it the morning and give me an estimate. Er, you'll be there to let them in, won't you, Mrs. Garrett?

MRS. G:

Yes'm. I'll be there.

SARAH:

And mind, you don't leave the room until the man is gone. There isn't much that's worth anything, but I'd hate to have any of those Waterford bottles stolen.

MRS. G:

All right, 'm. I'll keep me eye on 'em.

SARAH:

You know, Martha -- Mr. Fern has a highboy in his shop that he wants three hundred dollars for. Think of it -- three hundred dollars. And it isn't nearly as good as mine.

SOUND:

OFFICE DOOR OPENS ... THEN CLOSES BEHIND--

BOWLES:

I'm sorry to be late. I'm glad you were able to come, Mrs. Garrett.

MRS. G:

Thank you, sir.

SARAH:

Oh, do you want to see Mrs. Garrett alone, Mr. Bowles? If so, we can wait outside.

BOWLES:

It's not at all necessary. The business in hand concerns everybody present.

SOUND:

DURING ABOVE LINE, BUZZ OF INTERCOM ... THEN OFFICE DOOR OPENS

BOWLES:

Oh, er, Miss Plunkett, bring me the file of Madame Bowshawm.

MISS PLUNKETT:

(OFF) Yes, sir.

SARAH:

(CHUCKLES) Madame "Bowshawm" indeed. Beechum's good enough for me.

BOWLES:

(DRY) Ignorance or indifference, Mrs. Waite?

SARAH:

(DISMISSIVE) Oh!

MISS PLUNKETT:

Here's the file, Mr. Bowles.

BOWLES:

Thank you, Miss Plunkett.

SOUND:

OFFICE DOOR CLOSES AS MISS PLUNKETT EXITS

BOWLES:

There's nothing for me to do, ladies, but to read to you the will of my old friend Mauriette Bowshawm -- your late Aunt Etta -- and, after having done so, to turn over certain documents mentioned therein. I will omit the stereotype legal phrases and read only the vital clauses, as follows--

SOUND:

RUSTLE OF PAPERS

BOWLES:

(COUGHS, CLEARS THROAT, READS) "As the small annuity purchased for me by my dear husband before his death has only been sufficient for my own simple needs, there will be no accumulated money at my disposal at the time of my death. I have, however, kept in force an insurance policy of two thousand dollars payable to my estate.

SARAH:

Two thousand dollars? Oh, I had no idea it was as much as that.

BOWLES:

(READS) "In many conversations I have had with my devoted niece Sarah Waite, I have requested that my funeral shall be as simple as possible with no extravagant ostentation or display."

SARAH:

(TRIUMPHANT) There! What did I tell you?!

BOWLES:

(HIDES HIS IRRITATION) Please, Mrs. Waite. Shall I continue?

PETER:

(DOES NOT HIDE HIS IRRITATION) Please do, Mr. Bowles.

BOWLES:

(READS) "Money spent in such a manner is of no value to those who might otherwise benefit from it. Therefore I direct that the balance of the money remaining after my just debts and funeral expenses are discharged shall be given into the hands of Father Jardine for distribution at his discretion amongst the poor and needy of his parish."

SARAH:

(MUMBLES) Poor? Needy? Parish?

MRS. G:

(WARMLY) Dear soul! Never a selfish thought in her head.

BOWLES:

(COUGHS, CLEARS THROAT, READS) "To Catherine Garrett, who has attended faithfully to my needs for thirty years, I give and bequeath my Waterford glass bottles--"

MRS. G:

(REACTS)

BOWLES:

(READS) "--together with the silver-framed portrait of myself in hunting costume when I was a girl."

MRS. G:

(EMOTIONAL) I never wanted nothin'; the dear soul!

BOWLES:

(READS) "To my dear niece Martha Barry, wife of Peter Barry, I give and bequeath all my furniture, furnishings, and personal belongings whatsoever, to retain or dispose of as she may deem fit and proper--"

SARAH:

(AS IF WOUNDED) Oh!

BOWLES:

(READS) "--except that, to my devoted niece Sarah Waite, who has always been so good to me and to whom I have entrusted all arrangements which may be necessary after my decease, I give and bequeath my most treasured possession--"

SARAH:

(HUGE SIGH OF RELIEF)

BOWLES:

(READS) "--to wit, the small Brussels lace scarf, which will be found in a box at the bottom of my trunk--"

SARAH:

Scarf?

BOWLES:

(READS) "--and which formerly belonged to Queen Marie Antoinette of France. In the event that the said Sarah Waite should desire to dispose of the scarf, it is my wish that she give preference to the Carnavalet Museum, Paris, France, which seeks to purchase it for the sum of three thousand dollars -- despite the fact that it is slightly torn. In the name of God, amen."

SARAH:

(STUNNED, SLOWLY, TO HERSELF) "Despite the fact that it is slightly torn. In the name of God, amen." (STARTS TO TITTER QUIETLY, THEN BUILDS SLOWLY TO LOUD, INCREASINGLY MANIACAL LAUGHTER)

MUSIC:

BRIEF CURTAIN TOPS HER LAUGHTER

ANNOUNCER:

You have been listening to the Columbia Workshop's production of "Highboy," a dramatic sketch for radio by Eustace Wyatt, adapted from William Francis' short story "Too Far Gone." The production was under the direction of Earle McGill. Next Monday night the Columbia Workshop will present a radio adaptation of Evelyn Waugh's celebrated novel "A Handful of Dust," adapted for the Workshop by Elizabeth and James Hart. John Tillman speaking.

MUSIC:

FILLS A PAUSE ... THEN IN BG UNTIL THE END--

ANNOUNCER:

This is the Columbia Broadcasting System.