Lesson-1

The Summer of the Beautiful White Horse

By William Saroyan

The Summer of the Beautiful White Horse Introduction

William Saroyan wrote The Summer of the Beautiful White Horse. The plot revolves around two Armenian boys, Aram and Mourad, who are members of the Garoghlanaian family. Their tribe is well-known for its honesty. They are impoverished and struggle to make ends meet. They both wish they could ride a horse. Mourad had robbed a farmer of a horse a month before. He brought it to Aram's window one early morning and asked him to join him for a ride. They rode the horse for a long time. When Aram learns that the horse has been stolen, he is shocked but dismisses the theft in his mind.

One day, the horse's owner, John Byro, comes to his house to complain to Uncle Khosrove about his missing horse. On their way back to hide the horse on the deserted vineyard, they meet the owner and, in the end, feel guilty. They returned the horse to the owner's barn the next morning.

The Summer of the Beautiful White Horse Summary

Aram and Mourad were two poor boys from the Armenian Garoghlanian family, who had a reputation for honesty since the eleventh century. When Aram was sleeping and having pleasant dreams one early morning, his cousin Mourad appeared at his window with a beautiful white horse. Aram couldn't believe it and thought it was a dream. But because there was some light outside, he knew for certain that the horse was real. Because they were impoverished, he couldn't believe the horse was theirs. He was trying to figure out if his cousin had stolen the horse. Mourad had come to invite him to join him on a ride-along. He asked him to hurry up before the rest of the world woke up. Aram dressed up, jumped out the window, and sat behind Mourad on the horse.

They rode down Walnut Avenue, which ran through the old countryside of the area where they lived. After a while, Mourad motioned for him to dismount because he wanted to ride the horse alone. Aram asked if he could ride the horse alone like him, to which Mourad replied that they would look into it because it was for his own safety. He found Mourad had stolen the horse a month before and was riding it every morning.

When Aram got his chance to ride, the horse led him to the vineyard, threw him off, and fled. Mourad eventually found the horse after thirty minutes of searching, and they hid him in a deserted vineyard with some oats and alfalfa. Mourad had a way with horses in particular. He was well-versed in dealing with all types of animals as well as humans. Every morning for two weeks, they would ride the horse and then hide it. One day, John Byro came to Aram's house to speak with his uncle Khosrove, an irritated and loud man who shouted at almost everything. Byro told him about his missing horse, which he had purchased for sixty dollars. He couldn't find it for a month and had to walk 10 miles to get to their house. Khosrove yelled at him, 'it's no harm, pay no attention to it.' Byro became irritated by his attitude and left.

Aram went to Mourad and told him about Byro's missing horse, asking him not to return it until he learned to ride it. Mourad estimated that it would take him a year to learn to ride the horse. He went on to say angrily that they couldn't be thieves because their tribe is known for its honesty, and that they would return the horse after six months.

On their way back to the hidden spot to hide the horse, they met John Byro, who was returning to town. He talked with them while carefully inspecting the horse. He admitted that the horse looked exactly like the one he had, but knowing his parents and their family's honesty, he didn't believe they had his missing horse. He mistook it for a twin horse. Mourad was able to convince Byro that it was not his horse, so they left. The next morning, they both returned the horse to Byro's vineyard and placed it in the barn. The dogs quietly followed them as they left the place.

The same afternoon, John Byro returned to his house to inform his mother that his horse had returned. He was overjoyed and astounded to see the horse's improved temperament and strength. Uncle Khosrove yelled once more, 'Quiet, man, quiet.' Your horse has now been returned to you. 'Don't worry about it.'

The Summer of the Beautiful White Horse Lesson Explanation

ONE day back there in the good old days when I was nine and the world was full of every imaginable kind of magnificence, and life was still a delightful and mysterious dream, my cousin Mourad, who was considered crazy by everybody who knew him except me, came to my house at four in the morning and woke me up tapping on the window of my room.
Aram, he said.

I jumped out of bed and looked out of the window. I couldn’t believe what I saw.

It wasn’t morning yet, but it was summer and with daybreak not many minutes around the corner of the world it was light enough for me to know I wasn’t dreaming.

• Magnificence – extremely beautiful
• Daybreak – dawn

Aram, a nine-year-old boy, fell asleep one day and found himself in a world of breathtaking imagination. In a strange dream, his life was pleasant and kind. At 4 a.m., his cousin Mourad appeared through the window of his room. He called Aram, who jumped out of bed and couldn't believe what he saw out the window. It was dawn, and there was enough light outside for him to see outside, which made him believe he wasn't dreaming.

My cousin Mourad was sitting on a beautiful white horse.
I stuck my head out of the window and rubbed my eyes.
Yes, he said in Armenian. It’s a horse. You’re not dreaming.
Make it quick if you want to ride.

I knew my cousin Mourad enjoyed being alive more than anybody else who had ever fallen into the world by mistake, but this was more than even I could believe.
In the first place, my earliest memories had been memories of horses and my first longings had been longings to ride.
This was the wonderful part.

• Armenian – official language of Armenia branch
• Longings – an aching desire

Mourad sat atop a white horse. Aram rubbed his eyes and poked his head through the window. Mourad assured him that it was not a nightmare. He asked if he wanted a ride and told him he had to hurry. Mourad was the type of person who enjoyed life, but he couldn't believe he was seeing a horse in front of him. Aram's first memory is of horses, and he has always wanted to ride one. This was the exciting part: he was going to ride a horse for real.

In the second place, we were poor.

This was the part that wouldn’t permit me to believe what I saw.

We were poor. We had no money. Our whole tribe was poverty stricken. Every branch of the Garoghlanian1 family was living in the most amazing and comical poverty in the world. Nobody could understand where we ever got money enough to keep us with food in our bellies, not even the old men of the family. Most important of all, though, we were famous for our honesty. We had been famous for our honesty for something like eleven centuries, even when we had been the wealthiest family in what we liked to think was the world. We were proud first, honest next, and after that we believed in right and wrong. None of us would take advantage of anybody in the world, let alone steal.

• Comical – funny
• Garoghlanian – an Armenian tribe

Because Aram's family was poor and had no money, he found it difficult to believe what he saw outside his house. He was born into the Garoghlanian family, who lived in absolute poverty. They had no idea how they managed to feed themselves every day. Despite their poverty, his tribe had a reputation for honesty for eleven centuries. They were truthful, proud, and always believed in the concept of right and wrong. Nobody in their family would ever steal or take advantage of anyone in the world.

Consequently, even though I could see the horse, so magnificent; even though I could smell it, so lovely; even though I could hear it breathing, so exciting; I couldn’t believe the horse had anything to do with my cousin Mourad or with me or with any of the other members of our family, asleep or awake, because I knew my cousin Mourad couldn’t have bought the horse, and if he couldn’t have bought it he must have stolen it, and I refused to believe he had stolen it.

No member of the Garoghlanian family could be a thief.

I stared first at my cousin and then at the horse. There was a pious stillness and humour in each of them which on the one hand delighted me and on the other frightened me.

• Consequently – as a result
• Pious – religious

Aram was overjoyed to see a horse that was both pleasant and beautiful. He could smell it and hear it breathing, but he couldn't believe Mourad or anyone else in the family could afford a horse. He wondered if Mourad had stolen the horse, but he didn't believe him because no one in his family could be a thief. He fixed his stare on his cousin, then on the horse. Mourad and the horse both had religious motionlessness and wit, as one charmed him and the other scared him.

Mourad, I said, where did you steal this horse?
Leap out of the window, he said, if you want to ride.

It was true, then. He had stolen the horse. There was no question about it. He had come to invite me to ride or not, as I chose.
Well, it seemed to me stealing a horse for a ride was not the same thing as stealing something else, such as money. For all I knew, maybe it wasn’t stealing at all. If you were crazy about horses the way my cousin Mourad and I were, it wasn’t stealing.
It wouldn’t become stealing until we offered to sell the horse, which of course, I knew we would never do.
Let me put on some clothes, I said.
All right, he said, but hurry.
I leaped into my clothes. I jumped down to the yard from the window and leaped up onto the horse behind my cousin Mourad.

• Leap out – jump out from a place

He inquired as to whether Mourad had stolen the horse. Mourad responded that if he wants to ride, he must jump out the window. Mourad had stolen the horse, according to Aram. He went to see him and asked him to ride it with him. Because they were both obsessed with horseback riding, Aram tried to persuade himself that it was not the same as stealing money. He reasoned that it would not be considered theft until they decided to sell it, which they would never do. Aram stated that he will put on some clothes and go outside. From his room window, he jumped down to his yard and sat on the horse behind his cousin.

That year we lived at the edge of town, on Walnut Avenue.

Behind our house was the country: vineyards, orchards, irrigation ditches, and country roads. In less than three minutes we were on Olive Avenue, and then the horse began to trot. The air was new and lovely to breathe. The feel of the horse running was wonderful. My cousin Mourad who was considered one of the craziest members of our family began to sing. I mean, he began to roar.
Every family has a crazy streak in it somewhere, and my cousin Mourad was considered the natural descendant of the crazy streak in our tribe. Before him was our uncle Khosrove, an enormous man with a powerful head of black hair and the largest moustache in the San Joaquin Valley2, a man so furious in temper, so irritable, so impatient that he stopped anyone from talking by roaring, It is no harm; pay no attention to it.

• Vineyard – plantation of grapevines used in winemaking
• Orchards – a piece of land of the plantation of fruits
• Irrigation ditches – manmade channel used to deliver water to homes, industries and other uses
• Trot – proceed with something
• Descendant – a system that develops from an earlier simple version
• Streak – race
• Enormous – huge
• San Joaquin Valley – one of the long interior valleys of California

Aram lived on Walnut Avenue, on the outskirts of town. Behind his house were orchards, vineyards, irrigation ditches, and country roads. Within three minutes, they were on Olive Avenue, and the horse began to move. The air felt fresh and pleasant to breathe. Aram was having a great time sitting on the horse that was running. Mourad, who was considered one of the craziest members of the family, began singing loudly. Every family has one crazy person, and Mourad was the only natural descendant of a crazy race in their tribe. Before Mourad, there was only one huge man in the valley with black hair and the biggest moustache. He had a quick temper and was impatient, which irritated me. He used to roar and say, 'it is no harm, pay no attention to it,' to make anyone stop talking.

That was all, no matter what anybody happened to be talking about. Once it was his own son Arak running eight blocks to the barber’s shop where his father was having his moustache trimmed to tell him their house was on fire. This man Khosrove sat up in the chair and roared, It is no harm; pay no attention to it. The barber said, But the boy says your house is on fire. So
Khosrove roared, Enough, it is no harm, I say.

My cousin Mourad was considered the natural descendant of this man, although Mourad’s father was Zorab, who was practical and nothing else. That’s how it was in our tribe. A man could be the father of his son’s flesh, but that did not mean that he was also the father of his spirit. The distribution of the various kinds of spirit of our tribe had been from the beginning capricious and vagrant.
We rode and my cousin Mourad sang. For all anybody knew we were still in the old country where, at least according to some of our neighbours, we belonged. We let the horse run as long as it felt like running.

• Capricious – inconsistent change of mood
• Vagrant – a person without a settled home or work

Uncle Khosrove was always this rigid, no matter who was talking in front of him. When he was getting his moustache trimmed at the barbershop, his own son, Arav, came running up to him. He roared and said the same thing when he told him the house was on fire. Barber was amused and attempted to talk to him about it, but Khosrove roared again and ignored him. Mourad was thought to be a direct descendant of this man, but he was not his son. His father, Zorab, was a practical man. A child's appearance may resemble that of his father, but this does not imply that he holds his father's nature or attitude. There are various types of people in their tribes, including those who are moody and lack a stable job or home. They were still on the horse, and Mourad was singing loudly. They were still in the countryside, where they belonged, according to their neighbours.

At last my cousin Mourad said, Get down. I want to ride alone.
Will you let me ride alone? I asked.
That is up to the horse, my cousin said. Get down.
The horse will let me ride, I said.
We shall see, he said. Don’t forget that I have a way with a horse.
Well, I said, any way you have with a horse, I have also.
For the sake of your safety, he said, let us hope so. Get down.
All right, I said, but remember you’ve got to let me try to ride alone.
I got down and my cousin Mourad kicked his heels into the horse and shouted, Vazire, run. The horse stood on its hind legs, snorted, and burst into a fury of speed that was the loveliest thing I had ever seen. My cousin Mourad raced the horse across a field of dry grass to an irrigation ditch, crossed the ditch on the horse, and five minutes later returned, dripping wet.

• Vazire – a name
• Fury – anger

Mourad asked for him to get down because he wanted to ride alone. Aram inquired if he could ride the horse by himself. He told him it was up to the horse whether or not he wanted to ride you along and asked him to get Mourad down again. Aram tried to persuade Mourad that the horse would let him ride, to which Mourad replied, "We'll see," and told Aram that he had a way with horses. Aram informed him that he, too, had it. Mourad told him to get down and said it was for his own safety, which we can only hope is real. Aram got down and told him he would ride the horse alone. Mourad kicked his horse's heels and shouted, "Run to him!" The horse stood on its hind legs, exhaled, and took off running. Mourad raced his horse through a field of dry grass and irrigation ditches. They were drenched when they arrived five minutes later.

The sun was coming up.
Now it’s my turn to ride, I said.
My cousin Mourad got off the horse.
Ride, he said.

I leaped to the back of the horse and for a moment knew the most awful fear imaginable. The horse did not move.
Kick into his muscles, my cousin Mourad said. What are you waiting for? We’ve got to take him back before everybody in the world is up and about.
I kicked into the muscles of the horse. Once again it reared and snorted. Then it began to run. I didn’t know what to do.
Instead of running across the field to the irrigation ditch the horse ran down the road to the vineyard of Dikran Halabian where it began to leap over vines. The horse leaped over seven vines before I fell. Then it continued running.

My cousin Mourad came running down the road.
I’m not worried about you, he shouted. We’ve got to get that horse. You go this way and I’ll go this way. If you come upon him, be kindly. I’ll be near.

• Reared – raised
• Snorted – breathed out

The sun was nearly up when Aram informed him that it was his turn to ride. Mourad dismounted, and Aram sat on the horse. He was terrified, and the horse remained motionless. Mourad tried to guide him by telling him to kick into his muscles and to hurry because they needed to take him back before everyone woke up. Aram kicked the horse's muscles, causing the horse to raise and breathe out once more. When the horse began to run, Aram was at a loss for what to do. The horse began to move towards the road that leads to Dikran Halabian's vineyard. It began to move over the vines, and Aram fell. Mourad came running down the road towards him as the horse continued to run. Mourad assured him that he was not concerned about him, but that they needed to find the horse. They both went their separate ways to find him. He told Aram to be nice to him if he saw him anywhere.

I continued down the road and my cousin, Mourad went across the field toward the irrigation ditch.
It took him half an hour to find the horse and bring him back.
All right, he said, jump on. The whole world is awake now.
What will we do? I said.
Well, he said, we’ll either take him back or hide him until tomorrow morning.
He didn’t sound worried and I knew he’d hide him and not take him back. Not for a while, at any rate.
Where will we hide him? I said.
I know a place, he said.
How long ago did you steal this horse? I said.
It suddenly dawned on me that he had been taking these early morning rides for some time and had come for me this morning only because he knew how much I longed to ride.

• Dawned – appeared

Mourad went towards the irrigation ditch while Aram looked for the horse down the road. He returned thirty minutes later with the horse. He told him to jump over because the entire world had awakened by that point. Aram inquired as to what they would do next, to which Mourad replied that they had two options: return him or hide him until tomorrow. Mourad was unconcerned, and Aram knew Mourad would hide him somewhere and not bring it back him for a while. When Aram asked where Mourad would hide him, Mourad told him about a place he knew that would be ideal as a hiding spot. Aram eagerly inquired as to when he stole the horse. Mourad appeared to have been taking the horse for morning rides for quite some time, and he showed up this morning to ask Aram to ride along because he knew he wanted to ride one.

Who said anything about stealing a horse? he said.
Anyhow, I said, how long ago did you begin riding every morning?
Not until this morning, he said.
Are you telling the truth? I said.
Of course not, he said, but if we are found out, that’s what you’re to say. I don’t want both of us to be liars. All you know is that we started riding this morning.
All right, I said.

He walked the horse quietly to the barn of a deserted vineyard which at one time had been the pride of a farmer named Fetvajian. There were some oats and dry alfalfa in the barn.
We began walking home.
It wasn’t easy, he said, to get the horse to behave so nicely.
At first it wanted to run wild, but, as I’ve told you, I have a way with a horse. I can get it to want to do anything I want it to do.
Horses understand me.

• Alfalfa – a flowering plant

Mourad cuts him off by asking a counter-question about who says stealing a horse. Aram attempted to change the subject by asking him how long he had been riding the horse every morning. That morning, Mourad told him, was the first time. Aram was doubtful and asked if he was telling the truth. If anyone questioned Aram, Mourad advised him to say that it was true. He went on to say that he didn't want them to be liars, but that they could only say this. Aram agreed, and Mourad quietly led the horse to the barn of a deserted vineyard. It belonged to Fetvajian, a farmer. There was some oats and alfalfa in the barn. They began walking home. Mourad told Aram that it was difficult to get the horse to behave properly at first because it wanted to run wild. He told him once more that he had a way with horses and could make them do whatever he wanted. Horses could understand him.

How do you do it? I said.
I have an understanding with a horse, he said.
Yes, but what sort of an understanding? I said.
A simple and honest one, he said.
Well, I said, I wish I knew how to reach an understanding like that with a horse.
You’re still a small boy, he said. When you get to be thirteen you’ll know how to do it.
I went home and ate a hearty breakfast.

That afternoon my uncle Khosrove came to our house for coffee and cigarettes. He sat in the parlour, sipping and smoking and remembering the old country. Then another visitor arrived, a farmer named John Byro, an Assyrian who, out of loneliness, had learned to speak Armenian. My mother brought the lonely visitor coffee and tobacco and he rolled a cigarette and sipped and smoked, and then at last, sighing sadly, he said, My white horse which was stolen last month is still gone — I cannot understand it.
My uncle Khosrove became very irritated and shouted, It’s no harm. What is the loss of a horse? Haven’t we all lost the homeland? What is this crying over a horse?

• Parlour – a sitting space in a house

Aram asked him amusingly how he controlled the horse, to which Mourad replied that he has an understanding with the horse. Aram inquired as to what kind of understanding he had with him, to which Mourad replied, "a simple and honest one." Aram admitted that he, too, would like to learn how to communicate with a horse. Mourad reassured Aram that he was still a young boy and that he would learn when he was thirteen. Aram ate breakfast at home. His uncle Khosrove paid him a visit that day for coffee and cigarettes. When a visitor came to see him, he was sitting in the parlour, remembering the old country. He was John Byro, a farmer who learned Armenian because he was lonely. His mother bought coffee and tobacco for Byro. He sipped and smoked while telling them about his missing white horse, which was stolen last month and he has yet to find. Khosrove roared once more that there was no harm and questioned why he was crying over a lost horse when they had lost their homeland.

That may be all right for you, a city dweller, to say, John
Byro said, but what of my surrey? What good is a surrey without a horse?
Pay no attention to it, my uncle Khosrove roared.
I walked ten miles to get here, John Byro said.
You have legs, my uncle Khosrove shouted.
My left leg pains me, the farmer said.
Pay no attention to it, my uncle Khosrove roared.
That horse cost me sixty dollars, the farmer said.
I spit on money, my uncle Khosrove said.
He got up and stalked out of the house, slamming the screen door.
My mother explained.
He has a gentle heart, she said. It is simply that he is homesick and such a large man.
The farmer went away and I ran over to my cousin Mourad’s house.
He was sitting under a peach tree, trying to repair the hurt wing of a young robin which could not fly. He was talking to the bird.
What is it? he said.
The farmer, John Byro, I said. He visited our house. He wants his horse. You’ve had it a month. I want you to promise not to take it back until I learn to ride.

• City Dweller – a person who lives in a city
• Surrey – a country in South-East England

John told Khosrove that he would not bother because he lives in a city, but his country would be useless without his horse. Khosrove yelled that he shouldn't pay attention to it. John informed him that he had walked ten miles to get here. Khosrove yelled that he has legs, to which John replied that his left leg hurt. Khosrove tried to silence him once more, telling him not to pay attention to it. John disclosed that the horse cost him $60. Khosrove said he'd spit on the money, and John got up and walked away, slamming the door. Aram's mother told him that because John was homesick and such a big man, he had a gentle heart. Aram went to see Mourad, who was sitting under a peach tree and conversing with a robin bird. He was repairing the damaged wing. Aram told him about John Byro and how he came to their house looking for his horse. Aram requested that he not return the horse until he had learned to ride it.

It will take you a year to learn to ride, my cousin Mourad said.
We could keep the horse a year, I said.
My cousin Mourad leaped to his feet.
What? he roared. Are you inviting a member of the Garoghlanian family to steal? The horse must go back to its true owner.
When? I said.
In six months at the latest, he said.
He threw the bird into the air. The bird tried hard, almost fell twice, but at last flew away, high and straight.
Early every morning for two weeks my cousin Mourad and I took the horse out of the barn of the deserted vineyard where we were hiding it and rode it, and every morning the horse, when it was my turn to ride alone, leaped over grape vines and small trees and threw me and ran away. Nevertheless, I hoped in time to learn to ride the way my cousin Mourad rode.
One morning on the way to Fetvajian’s deserted vineyard we ran into the farmer John Byro who was on his way to town.
Let me do the talking, my cousin Mourad said. I have a way with farmers.

Mourad told Aram that learning to ride a horse would take him a year. Aram stated that they could keep him for a year. Mourad stood up and yelled at him, accusing him of encouraging him to be a thief despite being a member of the Garoghlanian family. He declared that the horse should be returned to its rightful owner. Aram asked as to when they would have to return the horse, to which Mourad replied that it would be in six months. He launched the bird into the air, and it nearly crashed twice before taking flight. They would both take the horse out of the barn and ride it for the next two weeks. Every morning, however, the horse would throw Aram and flee whenever he attempted to ride it. He still hoped he'd be able to ride it like his cousin. They met John Byro, who was on his way to town, on their way back to the deserted vineyard to hide the horse. Mourad insisted on speaking with him because he knew how to talk to farmers.

Good morning, John Byro, my cousin Mourad said to the farmer.
The farmer studied the horse eagerly.
Good morning, son of my friends, he said. What is the name of your horse?
My Heart, my cousin Mourad said in Armenian.
A lovely name, John Byro said, for a lovely horse. I could swear it is the horse that was stolen from me many weeks ago.
May I look into his mouth?
Of course, Mourad said.
The farmer looked into the mouth of the horse.
Tooth for tooth, he said. I would swear it is my horse if I didn’t know your parents. The fame of your family for honesty is well known to me. Yet the horse is the twin of my horse. A suspicious man would believe his eyes instead of his heart. Good day, my young friends.

Mourad wished him a good morning, and Byro took a close look at the horse. Byro returned their greetings and inquired about the horse's name. 'My Heart,' Mourad said in Armenian. Byro praised it as a lovely name for a lovely horse. He swore it was his horse that had been stolen weeks before. He asked to look inside his mouth. If he didn't know his parents, it said it was his horse after looking from tooth to tooth. He claimed the horse was a twin of his. He went on to say that his family is all about honesty, but the horse looks exactly like the one he lost. A suspicious man would easily believe his eyes rather than his heart. He wished them well and left.

Good day, John Byro, my cousin Mourad said.
Early the following morning we took the horse to John Byro’s vineyard and put it in the barn. The dogs followed us around without making a sound.
The dogs, I whispered to my cousin Mourad. I thought they would bark.
They would at somebody else, he said. I have a way with dogs.
My cousin Mourad put his arms around the horse, pressed his nose into the horse’s nose, patted it, and then we went away.
That afternoon John Byro came to our house in his surrey and showed my mother the horse that had been stolen and returned.
I do not know what to think, he said. The horse is stronger than ever. Better-tempered, too. I thank God. My uncle Khosrove, who was in the parlour, became irritated and shouted, Quiet, man, quiet. Your horse has been returned. Pay no attention to it.

Mourad given back his greeting. The following morning, they returned the horse to John Byro's vineyard and placed it in his barn. The dogs followed them around, making no noise. Mourad responded that because he had a way with dogs, they would not bark at them. Mourad wrapped his arms around the horse's neck and pressed his nose against the horse's nose. They left after he patted him on the back. That afternoon, John went to Aram's house in Surrey and showed his mother his horse, which had returned. He said he didn't know what to think because the horse is much stronger and calmer now. He expressed gratitude to God. Uncle Khosrove, who was in the Parlour, shouted angrily, 'Quiet, man, quiet.' Your horse has now been returned to you. Don't pay any attention to it.

About the Author

Lesson-2

The Address

By Marga Minco

The Address Introduction

The plot revolves around the human predicament that occurs between the pre-war and post-war periods. Mrs. S, a Jew, was a wealthy lady. Mrs. Dorling, on the other hand, was a non-Jew. The girl, Mrs. S's daughter, had lost her house and her mother during the war, and she had decided to return to collect her belongings from Mrs. Dorling, an acquaintance whose address had been given to her mother years ago. When she arrived at the house, the woman gave her a cold reception and refused to let her in. She decided to go back anyway, and when she arrived, she was greeted by her daughter, who let her in and told her to wait inside. She couldn't connect with her possessions when she saw them all in front of her and decided to leave the house.

The Address Summary

The protagonist received a cold reception after ringing Mrs. Dorling's doorbell at Number 46, Marconi Street, and Mrs Dorling took a long time to recognise her. Mrs Dorling had assumed that everyone in the protanogist's family had died and had inquired as to whether anyone else had come along with her. Mrs Dorling refused to let the protagonist into her house and told her to return later. Mrs Dorling's green cardigan was recognised by the protagonist as her mother's. She returned to the train station, thinking about her mother and how she had told her about Mrs. Dorling, an acquaintance of hers. Mrs Dorling would come to their house during the war and take their possessions with her because she didn't want them to be lost if they ever left. Mrs. Dorling possessed a broad back.

The protagonist decided to return their belongings to Mrs Dorling's house. Mrs. Dorling's daughter answered the door when she rang the bell. She let her in and directed her to the living room. While crossing the passage, the protagonist noticed their Hanukkah candle stand, which they had never used because it was too large. She was horrified when she entered the living room and saw all of her mother's belongings arranged in an unappealing manner. The furniture was unappealing, and the room had a muggy odour that made her uninterested and want to leave. Mrs. Dorling's daughter offered her a cup of tea, and the protagonist noticed the burn mark on the old tablecloth. She jumped up and walked out of the house when the girl showed her the silver fork and spoons that belonged to the protagonist. She decided not to return to the place because it brought back memories of the past, and thus she decided to forget the address.

The Address Lesson Explanation

‘DO you still know me?’ I asked.
The woman looked at me searchingly. She had opened the door a chink. I came closer and stood on the step.
‘No, I don’t know you.’
‘I’m Mrs S’s daughter.’

She held her hand on the door as though she wanted to prevent it from opening any further. Her face gave absolutely no sign of recognition. She kept staring at me in silence.
Perhaps I was mistaken, I thought, perhaps it isn’t her. I had seen her only once, fleetingly, and that was years ago. It was most probable that I had rung the wrong bell. The woman let go of the door and stepped to the side. She was wearing my mother’s green knitted cardigan. The wooden buttons were rather pale from washing. She saw that I was looking at the cardigan and half hid again behind the door. But I knew now that I was right.

• Chink – narrow opening
• Fleetingly – for a short time

The protagonist inquired of the woman standing at the door if she still remembered her. The protagonist approached the door and stood there after the lady had opened it slightly. Despite the woman's negative response, the protagonist continued to introduce her. She claimed to be Mrs. S's daughter. The woman had tightly gripped the door, not wanting her to enter the house. She kept staring at the protagonist, despite the fact that she didn't recognise her.

The protagonist suspected she had arrived at the wrong address. She had only seen the woman a few years before. The woman who answered the door took a step back and let go of the door. The protagonist recognised the women's green knitted cardigan as her mother's. Because of the washing, the wooden buttons had turned pale. The woman noticed the protagonist's gaze fixed on the cardigan. She crept behind the closed door. The protagonist knew she had arrived at the right house at this point.

‘Well, you knew my mother?’ I asked.
‘Have you come back?’ said the woman. ‘I thought that no one had come back.’
‘Only me.’
A door opened and closed in the passage behind her. A musty smell emerged.
‘I regret I cannot do anything for you.’
‘I’ve come here specially on the train. I wanted to talk to you for a moment.’
‘It is not convenient for me now,’ said the woman. ‘I can’t see you. Another time.’
She nodded and cautiously closed the door as though no one inside the house should be disturbed.

I stood where I was on the step. The curtain in front of the bay window moved. Someone stared at me and would then have asked what I wanted. ‘Oh, nothing,’ the woman would have said. ‘It was nothing.’

• Musty – stale

The protagonist inquired about the woman's mother. When the woman asked if she had returned, she replied only to her, and no one else followed her. When the woman opened the door, there was a passage behind her. A stale odour pervaded the entire area. She was told by the woman that she couldn't help her. The protagonist explained that she had travelled a long distance on the train just to talk to her. The woman told her that it was inconvenient for her to talk right now and asked her to return later. The woman shut the door because she didn't want anyone in the house to be disturbed. The protagonist was still standing on the stairwell. She noticed the curtain on the window bay moving. Someone inside the house was staring at her. As the woman would have told her, she thought it was nothing.

I looked at the name-plate again. Dorling it said, in black letters on white enamel. And on the jamb, a bit higher, the number. Number 46.
As I walked slowly back to the station I thought about my mother, who had given me the address years ago. It had been in the first half of the War. I was home for a few days and it struck me immediately that something or other about the rooms had changed. I missed various things. My mother was surprised I should have noticed so quickly. Then she told me about Mrs Dorling. I had never heard of her but apparently she was an old acquaintance of my mother, whom she hadn’t seen for years. She had suddenly turned up and renewed their contact. Since then she had come regularly.

• Enamel – an opaque or semi-transparent substance that is a type of glass
• Jamb – side post of a window, fireplace or doorway
• Acquaintance – stranger or social contact

When the protagonist looked at the number plate again, it read Number 46. Dorling was written in white enamel on the plate. As she walked back to the station, she summarised on her mother, who had given her the address. It was the first half of World War II. She had been home for a few days when she noticed that the room had changed. Several items were missing. Her mother was surprised that she only noticed the changes after a while. It was at that point that she told her about Mrs. Dorling. She was an old acquaintance she hadn't seen in years. She unexpectedly came to see her, and they've kept in touch ever since.

‘Every time she leaves here she takes something home with her,’ said my mother. ‘She took all the table silver in one go. And then the antique plates that hung there. She had trouble lugging those large vases, and I’m worried she got a crick in her back from the crockery.’ My mother shook her head pityingly. ‘I would never have dared ask her. She suggested it to me herself. She even insisted. She wanted to save all my nice things. If we have to leave here we shall lose everything, she says.’
‘Have you agreed with her that she should keep everything?’ I asked.
‘As if that’s necessary,’ my mother cried. ‘It would simply be an insult to talk like that. And think about the risk she’s running, each time she goes out of our door with a full suitcase or bag.’

• Lugging – carry a heavy object with great effort
• Pityingly – feeling sorrow
• Crick – cramp or spasm in muscles

Her mother says that whenever that woman paid her a visit, she took something from the house with her. She struggled to carry the large vase, which was laden with table silvers and antique plates. She explained that the cramp in her back was caused by the crockery. Her mother wept and shook her head. The woman kept telling the protagonist's mother that she wanted to save her valuable belongings. They would lose everything if they had to leave the place someday.

She asked her mother if she was sure she wanted her to take everything with her. Her mother responded that even if she didn't, asking her not to would be an insult. She was leaving with a suitcase full of items, which was a risk in and of itself.

My mother seemed to notice that I was not entirely convinced. She looked at me reprovingly and after that we spoke no more about it.
Meanwhile I had arrived at the station without having paid much attention to things on the way. I was walking in familiar places again for the first time since the War, but I did not want to go further than was necessary. I didn’t want to upset myself with the sight of streets and houses full of memories from a precious time.
In the train back I saw Mrs Dorling in front of me again as I had the first time I met her. It was the morning after the day my mother had told me about her. I had got up late and, coming downstairs, I saw my mother about to see someone out. A woman with a broad back.
‘There is my daughter,’ said my mother. She beckoned to me.
The woman nodded and picked up the suitcase under the coat-rack. She wore a brown coat and a shapeless hat.
‘Does she live far away?’ I asked, seeing the difficulty she had going out of the house with the heavy case.
‘In Marconi Street,’ said my mother. ‘Number 46. Remember that.’

• Reprovingly – critically
• Beckoned – signalled

Her mother noticed she wasn't convinced and gave her a critical look. They never discussed the incident again after that day. She arrived at the station without noticing anything along the way. For the first time since the war, she passed by familiar surroundings. She didn't want to be bothered by the familiar sights of houses and streets that reminded her of all the wonderful times she'd had.

She saw Mrs. Dorling in person a day after her mother told her daughter about her. She awoke late that morning, and as she walked downstairs, she noticed her 'the lady with broad back.' Her mother was accompanying her out. The protagonist was introduced to the lady by her mother. She motioned to her, and the women nodded in response. She chose the suitcase from beneath the coat rack. She was dressed in a brown coat and a hat with no shape. The protagonist inquired about her mother's whereabouts. 'Marconi Street, Number 46,' her mother told her. She remembered it.

I had remembered it. But I had waited a long time to go there. Initially after the Liberation I was absolutely not interested in all that stored stuff, and naturally I was also rather afraid of it. Afraid of being confronted with things that had belonged to a connection that no longer existed; which were hidden away in cupboards and boxes and waiting in vain until they were put back in their place again; which had endured all those years because they were ‘things.’
But gradually everything became more normal again. Bread was getting to be a lighter colour, there was a bed you could sleep in unthreatened, a room with a view you were more used to glancing at each day. And one day I noticed I was curious about all the possessions that must still be at that address. I wanted to see them, touch, remember.
After my first visit in vain to Mrs Dorling’s house I decided to try a second time. Now a girl of about fifteen opened the door to me. I asked her if her mother was at home.
‘No’ she said, ‘my mother’s doing an errand.’
‘No matter,’ I said, ‘I’ll wait for her.’

• Liberation – Liberty or Freeing
• Endured – suffered
• Vain – hopeless

She remembered the address, but it took her too long to get there. She was on the one hand uninterested and on the other hand terrified after gaining her freedom. She was afraid of being confronted with memories and connections from her past that no longer existed. Connections were concealed in cabinets and boxes. Those memories seemed to be waiting in vain for them to be returned to their rightful places, as they had suffered all these years because they were only things.

Things were getting back to normal in the Protagonist's life until one day she became curious about everything that was still at that address. She desired to see and touch them. She decided to try again after the first hopeless visit. When she arrived at Mrs Morling's house, a fifteen-year-old girl opened the door. The protagonist inquired about her mother. She informed her that she was out running errands, and the protagonist agreed to wait for her.

I followed the girl along the passage. An old-fashioned iron Hanukkah1 candle holder hung next to a mirror. We never used it because it was much more cumbersome than a single candlestick.
‘Won’t you sit down?’ asked the girl. She held open the door of the living room and I went inside past her. I stopped, horrified. I was in a room I knew and did not know. I found myself in the midst of things I did want to see again but which oppressed me in the strange atmosphere. Or because of the tasteless way everything was arranged, because of the ugly furniture or the muggy smell that hung there, I don’t know; but I scarcely dared to look around me. The girl moved a chair. I sat down and stared at the woolen tablecloth. I rubbed it. My fingers grew warm from rubbing. I followed the lines of the pattern. Somewhere on the edge there should be a burn mark that had never been repaired.
‘My mother’ll be back soon,’ said the girl. ‘I’ve already made tea for her. Will you have a cup?’
‘Thank you.’

• Hanukkah – The Feast of Lights, a Hebrew festival in December
• Cumbersome – unmanageable
• Midst – middle
• Muggy – humid

Along the passage, the protagonist followed the girl. A Hanukkah candle holder was hung next to a mirror. She remembered that she never used it because it was too difficult to manage. As she opened the door to the living room, the girl asked for her to take a seat. She came to a halt, disturbed. She was standing in a room that she both knew and didn't know. She was in the midst of things she didn't want to see, and they weighed on her. Maybe she was afraid to look at everything because of the way things were arranged, or the humid smell in the room, or the ugly furniture. She sat in a chair that the girl had pulled out for her. She took a look at the woollen tablecloth. Her fingers felt warm as she rubbed it. She remembered a burn mark that was never repaired as she followed the pattern's lines. The girl told her that her mother would be returning soon and invited her to join her for a cup of tea. She replied, "Thank you."

I looked up. The girl put cups ready on the tea table. She had a broad back. Just like her mother. She poured tea from a white pot. All it had was a gold border on the lid, I remembered. She opened a box and took some spoons out.
‘That’s a nice box.’ I heard my own voice. It was a strange voice. As though each sound was different in this room.

‘Oh, you know about them?’ She had turned around and brought me my tea. She laughed. ‘My mother says it is antique. We’ve got lots more.’ She pointed around the room. ‘See for yourself.’
I had no need to follow her hand. I knew which things she meant. I just looked at the still life over the tea table. As a child I had always fancied the apple on the pewter plate.
‘We use it for everything,’ she said. ‘Once we even ate off the plates hanging there on the wall. I wanted to so much. But it wasn’t anything special.’
I had found the burn mark on the tablecloth. The girl looked questioningly at me.

• Pewter plate – plate made of a gray alloy of tin

When the protagonist looked up, she noticed that the girl had placed two cups of tea in front of her. She, like her mother, had a broad back. She poured tea from the gold-rimmed teapot with a gold border on the lid. She took some spoons from a box she opened. The protagonist complimented the girl on the box. Hearing her own voice was strange for her. It sounded different to her. As the girl turned to hand her a cup, she inquired about the box. Then she added that her mother said it was antique. She indicated that there are more by pointing around the room. She told her to look, despite the fact that the protagonist was not required to do so. She was well-versed in the subject. She looked around the tea table, remembering how much she liked the apple on the pewter plate. The plate is used for everything, according to the girl. They used to eat off the plates that were hung on the wall. The girl also wanted to eat from that plate. But it wasn't anything out of the ordinary. When the protagonist found the burn mark on the tablecloth, the girl looked her in question.

‘Yes,’ I said, ‘you get so used to touching all these lovely things in the house, you hardly look at them any more. You only notice when something is missing, because it has to be repaired or because you have lent it, for example.’
Again I heard the unnatural sound of my voice and I went on: ‘I remember my mother once asked me if I would help her polish the silver. It was a very long time ago and I was probably bored that day or perhaps I had to stay at home because I was ill, as she had never asked me before. I asked her which silver she meant and she replied, surprised, that it was the spoons, forks and knives, of course. And that was the strange thing, I didn’t know the cutlery we ate off every day was silver.’
The girl laughed again.
‘I bet you don’t know it is either.’ I looked intently at her. ‘What we eat with?’ she asked.
‘Well, do you know?’
She hesitated. She walked to the sideboard and wanted to open a drawer. ‘I’ll look. It’s in here.’

Yes, said the protagonist, adding that when you're so used to touching things in your house, you don't notice anything. You only notice when something is missing, needs to be repaired, or has been lent to you. Her voice was once again unnatural to her. She went on to tell the girl that her mother once asked her if she would help her polish the silver. It was a long time ago, and she was bored on that particular day. She might have had to stay that day because she was sick. She inquired of her mother as to what silver she was referring to. It was the spoons, knives, and forks, according to her mother. But she had no idea it was silver. The girl laughed and said she bet she didn't know what they ate with either. The protagonist inquired as to whether she was aware of the situation. The girl paused before walking to the sideboard and opening a drawer. She stated that she would check to see if it was present.

I jumped up. ‘I was forgetting the time. I must catch my train.’
She had her hand on the drawer. ‘Don’t you want to wait for my mother?’
‘No, I must go.’ I walked to the door. The girl pulled the drawer open. ‘I can find my own way.’
As I walked down the passage I heard the jingling of spoons and forks.
At the corner of the road I looked up at the name-plate. Marconi Street, it said. I had been at Number 46. The address was correct. But now I didn’t want to remember it any more. I wouldn’t go back there because the objects that are linked in your memory with the familiar life of former times instantly lose their value when, severed from them, you see them again in strange surroundings. And what should I have done with them in a small rented room where the shreds of black-out paper still hung along the windows and no more than a handful of cutlery fitted in the narrow table drawer?
I resolved to forget the address. Of all the things I had to forget, that would be the easiest.

• Jingling – ringing

The protagonist jumped and stated that she had forgotten the time because she needed to catch the train. The girl asked if she did not wish to wait for her mother. The protagonist still said no and that she had to leave. The girl opened the drawer. The protagonist stated that she could find her way out and proceeded to walk down the passage as she heard the ringing spoons and forks.

She returned her eyes to the name-plate as she approached the road's bend. It said Marconi Street, and she was number 46. The address was correct, but she no longer wants to remember it. She didn't want to go back because the things inside reminded her of memories associated with the familiar life of old days. They lose their value, however, when you are separated from them and see them again in a strange setting. She imagined what she would have done in a small rented room with black-out curtains and no cutlery fitting in the narrow drawer. She finally decided that forgetting the address would be the easiest option.

About the Author

Marga Minco (born 31 March 1920 as Sara Menco) is a Dutch journalist and writer. Her real surname was Menco, but an official mixed up the first vowel. She was born to an Orthodox Jewish family in Ginneken. Minco's first book, Het bittere kruid, was published in 1957. ("The bitter herb").

Lesson-3

Ranga’s Marriage

By Masti Venkatesha Iyengar

Ranga’s Marriage Introduction

Ranga, the accountant's son, is the main character of the story. He is given the opportunity to study outside of the village. The narrator takes you on a journey in which he changes Ranga's perception of marriage, how he staged their marriage with the assistance of a Shastri, and what role English has played in their village. The entire story contains amusing instances and references, and the narrator has ensured that your mind is kept occupied with the story.

Ranga’s Marriage Summary

Ranga, the accountant's son, returns to his village Hosahalli after a six-month absence. He had gone to Bangalore to further his studies, which not many people in the village have the opportunity to do. The entire village is excited to see Ranga, so they gather around his house to see how he has changed. The narrator has beautifully elaborated on their village Hosahalli and how every authority responsible failed to include it on maps. Moving on, he admires Ranga and wishes to marry him, but Ranga has very different views on marriage at the time. Ranga and Ratna, Rama Rao's eleven-year-old niece, are married for the first time, as staged by the Narrator.

The girl has a lovely voice and can also play the Veena and harmonium. The narrator initially informs him that she is married in order to observe how this affects Ranga. Ranga, as expected, was disappointed. The narrator then conscripted the village Shastri into saying things in his favour. He then took Ranga to see him, where he predicted that Ranga is thinking about a girl whose name is similar to something found in the ocean. Shyama, the narrator, believes her name is Ratna, but she is married. On their way back, they confirmed Ratna is not married, only to discover Ranga happy and full of hope.

The Shastri, on the other hand, was opposed to staging anything predetermined. He claims he said whatever his predictions indicated. Ranga and Ratna, on the other hand, are happily married with a three-year-old son named after the narrator. Ratna is also expecting another child.

Ranga’s Marriage Lesson Explanation

Ranga, the accountant’s son, is one of the rare breeds among the village folk who has been to the city to pursue his studies. When he returns to his village from the city of Bangalore, the crowds mill around his house to see whether he has changed or not. His ideas about marriage are now quite different—or are they?

• Rare breed- a person or thing with characteristics that are uncommon among their kind; a rarity

Ranga, the village accountant's son who had just returned from Bangalore, is the focus of the lesson. When word of his arrival spreads, the villagers gather at his house to see if he has changed and what his thoughts are on marriage. Everyone was excited because, back then, not everyone had the opportunity to study in cities.

WHEN you see this title, some of you may ask, “Ranga’s Marriage?” Why not “Ranganatha Vivaha” or “Ranganatha Vijaya?” Well, yes. I know I could have used some other mouth-filling one like “Jagannatha Vijaya” or “Girija Kalyana.” But then, this is not about Jagannatha’s victory or Girija’s wedding. It’s about our own Ranga’s marriage and hence no fancy title. Hosahalli is our village. You must have heard of it. No? What a pity! But it is not your fault. There is no mention of it in any geography book. Those sahibs in England, writing in English, probably do not know that such a place exists, and so make no mention of it. Our own people too forget about it. You know how it is —they are like a flock of sheep. One sheep walks into a pit, the rest blindly follow it. When both, the sahibs in England and our own geographers, have not referred to it, you can not expect the poor cartographer to remember to put it on the map, can you? And so there is not even the shadow of our village on any map.

• Vivaha- Marriage
• Vijaya- Victory
• Girija- female (here)
• Kalyana- beautiful, lovely,auspicious in Sanskrit
• Sahib- a polite title or form of address for a man
• Like a flock of sheep- a group of people behaving in the same way or following what others are doing
• Cartographer- a person who draws or produces maps

The narrator anticipates that readers will be perplexed by the title "Ranga's Marriage." He believes that readers may be thinking of fancier titles such as "Ranganatha Vivaha," "Ranganatha Vijaya," or "Girija Kalyana." He clarifies that, while he had the option of keeping such elaborate names, he chose the simple and casual one because the story is about "our Ranga," as in, someone very close and dear to him. They live in the Mysore village of Hosahalli. Few people are aware of it, and the narrator does not blame them because there is no mention of it in geography textbooks.

Even the Englishmen have no idea where he is, but they are not to blame because our citizens are also completely unaware of his village. He refers to people as "sheep" because they blindly follow each other and do not use logic or their brain to justify or invent things. Finally, he believes the cartographer should not be made responsible. As a result, their village is no longer visible on the map.

Sorry, I started somewhere and then went off in another direction. If the state of Mysore is to Bharatavarsha what the sweet karigadabu is to a festive meal, then Hosahalli is to Mysore State what the filling is to the karigadabu. What I have said is absolutely true, believe me. I will not object to your questioning it but I will stick to my opinion. I am not the only one who speaks glowingly of Hosahalli. We have a doctor in our place. His name is Gundabhatta. He agrees with me. He has been to quite a few places. No, not England. If anyone asks him whether he has been there, he says, “No, annayya , I have left that to you. Running around like a flea-pestered dog, is not for me. I have seen a few places in my time, though.” As a matter of fact, he has seen many.

• Bharatvarsha- India
• Karigadabu- a South Indian fried sweet filled with coconut and sugar
• Annayya- (in Kannada) a respectful term for an elder
• Flea-pestered dog- A flea- pestered dog does not stick to one place but keeps roaming everywhere.
• Flea-pestered means being infested by fleas and ticks which can cause uncontrollable itching in animals

The narrator regrets getting carried away and deviating from the topic. He then elaborates on the significance of the village Hosahalli. He considers it to be as important to India as Mysore is to India, Karigadabu is to a festive meal, and filling is to Karigadabu. As a result, he is no longer able to emphasise its significance. Not only him, but also the doctor Gundabhatta, feels the same way. The doctor has travelled to many places other than England, but he still adores Hosahalli. An outsider might disagree, but the narrator insists on his assertion of the place.

We have some mango trees in our village. Come visit us, and I will give you a raw mango from one of them. Do not eat it. Just take a bite. The sourness is sure to go straight to your brahmarandhra . I once took one such fruit home and a chutney was made out of it. All of us ate it. The cough we suffered from, after that! It was when I went for the cough medicine, that the doctor told me about the special quality of the fruit.

• Brahmarandhra-(in Kannada) the soft part in a child’s head where skull bones join later. Here, used as an idiomatic expression to convey the extreme potency of sourness. In Sanskrit, “Brahmarandhra” means the hole of Brahman. It is the dwelling house of the human soul.

Then he tells the readers about the village's special mango trees, whose mangoes are famous for their exceptional quality. He once brought the fruit home to make chutney, and everyone got a bad cough after eating it. He only told the doctor about the quality of Hosahalli mangoes when he went to see him. The narrator invites the readers to take a bite, assuring them that the sourness of the mango will be felt all the way to the top of their heads (where Brahmarandhra is located).

Just as the mango is special, so is everything else around our village. We have a creeper growing in the ever-so-fine water of the village pond. Its flowers are a feast to behold. Get two leaves from the creeper when you go to the pond for your bath, and you will not have to worry about not having leaves on which to serve the afternoon meal. You will say I am rambling. It is always like that when the subject of our village comes up. But enough. If any one of you would like to visit us, drop me a line. I will let you know where Hosahalli is and what things are like here. The best way of getting to know a place is to visit it, don’t you agree?

• Behold- see or observe (someone or something, especially of remarkable or impressive nature)
• Rambling- (of writing or speech) lengthy and confused or inconsequential

Everything in and around this village is remarkable, not just the mangoes. The creeper in the pond and its flowers are also noteworthy. Its leaves can even be used to serve an afternoon meal; simply grab two leaves on your way to the pond to bathe. After praising his village, the narrator says that anyone who wants to see for themselves/herself should contact him. He will assist them in getting there. In addition, he believes that there is no better way to learn about a place than to visit it.

What I am going to tell you is something that happened ten years ago. We did not have many people who knew English, then. Our village accountant was the first one who had enough courage to send his son to Bangalore to study. It is different now. There are many who know English. During the holidays, you come across them on every street, talking in English. Those days, we did not speak in English, nor did we bring in English words while talking in Kannada. What has happened is disgraceful, believe me. The other day, I was in Rama Rao’s house when they bought a bundle of firewood. Rama Rao’s son came out to pay for it. He asked the woman, “How much should I give you?” “Four pice,” she said. The boy told her he did not have any “change”, and asked her to come the next morning. The poor woman did not understand the English word “change” and went away muttering to herself. I too did not know. Later, when I went to Ranga’s house and asked him, I understood what it meant.

The narrator then draws a comparison to how things were ten years ago, when few people knew or spoke English. People also did not send their children to large cities like Bangalore to study. Only the village accountant had the strength and courage to send his son to Bangalore back then. Those were simpler times, according to the author. He supports up his claim by recounting an incident in which he was at Rama Rao's house and they had just purchased a bundle of firewood from an elderly lady. Rama told her to come back the next morning because he didn't have any change at the time. The poor old lady had no idea what "change" meant and went away quietly to herself. Neither did the narrator understand what it meant. He didn't tell Ranga until he arrived at his house.

This priceless commodity, the English language, was not so widespread in our village a decade ago. That was why Ranga’s homecoming was a great event. People rushed to his doorstep announcing, “The accountant’s son has come,” “The boy who had gone to Bangalore for his studies is here, it seems,” and “Come, Ranga is here. Let’s go and have a look.”

However, ten years ago, English was not widely spoken in this village, and when the villagers got to know that Ranga, the accountant's son, was returning home from Bangalore, everyone became excited and rushed to his house to take a look at him.

Attracted by the crowd, I too went and stood in the courtyard and asked, “Why have all these people come? There’s no performing monkey here.” A boy, a fellow without any brains, said, loud enough for everyone to hear, “What are you doing here, then?” A youngster, immature and without any manners. Thinking that all these things were now of the past, I kept quiet.

Fascinated by the crowd, the narrator went there and asked people why they were gathered because he couldn't see anything entertaining going on, such as a monkey performing. A boy "without brains" shouted loudly enough for everyone to hear and in an impolite manner. The narrator described him as immature.

Seeing so many people there, Ranga came out with a smile on his face. Had we all gone inside, the place would have turned into what people call the Black Hole of Calcutta. Thank God it did not. Everyone was surprised to see that Ranga was the same as he had been six months ago, when he had first left our village. An old lady who was near him, ran her hand over his chest, looked into his eyes and said, “The janewara is still there. He hasn’t lost his caste.” She went away soon after that. Ranga laughed.

• Janewara- (in Kannada) the sacred thread worn by Brahmins

Everyone was waiting outside Ranga's house because the place would resemble the "Black Hole of Calcutta" if everyone went inside. The narrator is implying that there were so many people that the house would have been too small to accommodate them all. As a result, Ranga smiled as he exited the house. Everyone was shocked to see that Ranga had not changed a bit since he had left 6 months before. An elderly lady even went so far as to run her hands through his chest in search of a sacred thread. She did, however, leave after assuring him that he had not forgotten about his caste.

Once they realised that Ranga still had the same hands, legs, eyes and nose, the crowd melted away, like a lump of sugar in a child’s mouth. I continued to stand there.

After everyone had gone, I asked, “How are you, Rangappa? Is everything well with you?” It was only then that Ranga noticed me. He came near me and did a namaskara respectfully, saying, “I am all right, with your blessings.”

When the villagers realised Ranga had not changed even after moving to the city, they vanished as quickly as a lump of sugar in a child's mouth. The narrator waited for the crowd to disperse before asking about his well-being. Ranga noticed him and responded in a traditional manner, with full respect. Ranga had missed the narrator in the crowd until that moment.

I must draw your attention to this aspect of Ranga’s character. He knew when it would be to his advantage to talk to someone and rightly assessed people’s worth. As for his namaskara to me, he did not do it like any present-day boy—with his head up towards the sun, standing stiff like a pole without joints, jerking his body as if it was either a wand or a walking stick. Nor did he merely fold his hands. He bent low to touch my feet. “May you get married soon,” I said, blessing him. After exchanging a few pleasantries, I left.

Ranga was well-mannered and well-aware of who could help him. He was one of those who could accurately assess someone's worth. He greeted the narrator by bending low and touching his feet, seeking his blessings. It wasn't the kind of namaskara that kids do nowadays; it was a proper, traditional namaskara. The narrator wished him luck in his marriage and then left.

That afternoon, when I was resting, Ranga came to my house with a couple of oranges in his hand. A generous, considerate fellow. It would be a fine thing to have him marry, settle down and be of service to society, I thought. For a while we talked about this and that. Then I came to the point. “Rangappa, when do you plan to get married?” “I am not going to get married now,” he said. “Why not?” “I need to find the right girl. I know an officer who got married only six months ago. He is about thirty and his wife is twenty-five, I am told. They will be able to talk lovingly to each other. Let’s say I married a very young girl. She may take my words spoken in love as words spoken in anger. Recently, a troupe in Bangalore staged the play Shakuntala. There is no question of Dushyantha falling in love with Shakuntala if she were young, like the present-day brides, is there? What would have happened to Kalidasa’s play? If one gets married, it should be to a girl who is mature. Otherwise, one should remain a bachelor. That’s why I am not marrying now.”

• Considerate- thoughtful, concerned
• Troupe- a group of dancers, actors or other entertainers who tour to different venues

Ranga paid the author a visit that afternoon with a few oranges, which the narrator thought was very thoughtful of him. Given how nice Ranga is, the author thought it would be a good deed to marry him to a girl who is equally nice. They talked for a while, and then the narrator asked Ranga about his feelings about marriage. Ranga expresses that he does not intend to marry right away because he wants to find the right girl. He gives the example of a thirty-year-old officer who married a twenty-five-year-old woman. Because they are both adults, they will understand each other's actions and behaviour. Whereas if the narrator meets a very young girl, she may misinterpret his words or actions because she is not mature enough. He even mentions the Mahabharata love storey of Shakuntala and Dushyantha, and how he would not have fallen in love with Shakuntala if she had been too young. In that case, Kalidasa's play would not have existed. That is why he intends to remain single until he meets the right girl.

“Is there any other reason?” “A man should marry a girl he admires. What we have now are arranged marriages. How can one admire a girl with milk stains on one side of her face and wetness on the other, or so young that she doesn’t even know how to bite her fingers?” “One a neem fruit, the other, a bittergourd.” “Exactly!” Ranga said, laughing. I was distressed that the boy who I thought would make a good husband, had decided to remain a bachelor. After chatting for a little longer, Ranga left. I made up my mind right then, that I would get him married.

Rama Rao’s niece, a pretty girl of eleven, had come to stay with him. She was from a big town, so she knew how to play the veena and the harmonium. She also had a sweet voice. Both her parents had died, and her uncle had brought her home. Ranga was just the boy for her, and she, the most suitable bride for him.

The narrator introduces us to Ratna, a new character in the storey. Rama Rao's niece, she is eleven years old. She had lost both of her parents, so her uncle brought her from the big city to his house. She had a beautiful voice and could also play the harmonium and veena. Ranga and Ratna, according to the narrator, would make a perfect couple.

Since I was a frequent visitor to Rama Rao’s place, the girl was quite free with me. I completely forgot to mention her name! Ratna, it was. The very next morning I went to their house and told Rama Rao’s wife, “I’ll send some buttermilk for you. Ask Ratna to fetch it.” Ratna came. It was a Friday, so she was wearing a grand saree. I told her to sit in my room and requested her to sing a song. I sent for Ranga. While she was singing the song— Krishnamurthy, in front of my eyes — Ranga reached the door. He stopped at the threshold. He did not want the singing to stop, but was curious to see the singer. Carefully, he peeped in. The light coming into the room was blocked. Ratna looked up and seeing a stranger there, abruptly stopped

• Threshold- a strip of wood or stone forming the bottom of a doorway and crossed in entering a house or a room

Ratna was quite familiar with the narrator because he frequently visited Rama's place. The narrator devised a strategy to introduce Ratna to Ranga. He asked Rama to send Ratna to his house because he needed to send them some buttermilk. She came fully dressed. The narrator insisted on her singing a song while he sent someone to call Ranga. Ranga arrived at the door just as she was finishing her song. Her melancholy voice touched his ears, and he didn't want to disrupt her singing, so he stood at the door. He was curious to see the singer and tried to look very carefully, which disrupted the lighting in the room. Ratna immediately stopped singing when she noticed a stranger.

Suppose you buy the best quality mango. You eat it slowly, savouring its peel, before biting into the juicy flesh. You do not want to waste any part of it. Before you take another bite, the fruit slips out of your hand and falls to the ground. How do you feel? Ranga’s face showed the same disappointment when the singing stopped. “You sent for me?” he asked as he came in and sat on a chair. Ratna stood at a distance, her head lowered. Ranga repeatedly glanced at her. Once, our eyes met, and he looked very embarrassed. No one spoke for a long while.

Ranga's situation is compared by the narrator to dropping a high-quality mango on the floor just before having to enjoy it fully. It was as if something wonderful had been stolen before it could be fully appreciated. Ranga asked the narrator as to why he had summoned him. Ratna was shy, so she looked down, while Ranga stolethily glanced at her. In the room, there was an awkward silence.

“It was my coming in that stopped the singing. Let me leave.” Words, mere words! The fellow said he would leave but did not make a move. How can one expect words to match actions in these days of Kaliyuga? Ratna ran inside, overcome by shyness

After things became awkward, Ranga stated that he believes his presence is what stopped the singing and that he must leave. He, however, did not. He is mocked by the narrator because he had no intention of going. He makes a joke about it, saying that in the Kalyuga, one cannot expect actions and words to match.

After a while, Ranga asked, “Who is that girl, swami?” “Who’s that inside?” the lion wanted to know. The he-goat who had taken shelter in the temple replied, “Does it matter who I am? I am a poor animal who has already eaten nine lions. I have vowed to eat one more. Tell me, are you male or female?” The lion fled the place in fear, it seems. Like the he-goat, I said, “What does it matter to either of us who she is? I’m already married and you aren’t the marrying kind.”

Ranga finally asked the narrator about the girl after a few minutes of awkward silence. The narrator now compares the situation to the well-known storey of the he-goat and the lion, in which he is the he-goat and Ranga is the lion. The narrator responds cleverly and anticipates Ranga's desire to learn more about Ratna. As a result, he says that who she is unimportant because he is already married and Ranga has no plans to marry anytime soon.

Very hopefully, he asked, “She isn’t married, then?” His voice did not betray his excitement but I knew it was there. “She was married a year ago.” His face shrivelled like a roasted brinjal. After a while, Ranga left, saying, “I must go, I have work at home.” I went to our Shastri the next morning and told him, “Keep everything ready to read the stars. I’ll come later.” I tutored him in all that I wanted him to say. I found no change in Ranga when I met him that afternoon. “What’s the matter? You seem to be lost in thought,” I said. “Nothing, nothing’s wrong, believe me.” “Headache? Come, let’s go and see a doctor.”

• Betray- portray (here)
• Shrivelled- shrunken and wrinkled; especially as a result of loss of moisture
• Tutored- taught

Ranga became excited when he heard the narrator's response, though he didn't show it. He asks, full of hope, if she isn't married yet, to which the narrator responds that she is, and probably was a year ago. Ranga was dissatisfied and discouraged. It was obvious that it was all over his face. He left, quoting some work. After staging certain feelings in Ranga's mind for Ratna, our narrator went on to finish his play. He went to Shastri's village and told him everything that needed to be said and done. Then he saw Ranga that afternoon, and he had the same look of disappointment on his face. When asked if he has a headache, the narrator advises him to see a doctor.

“I have no headache. I’m my usual self.” “I went through the same thing when the process of choosing a girl for me was going on. But I don’t think that that could be a reason for your present condition.” Ranga stared at me. “Come, let’s go and see Shastri,” I suggested. “We will find out whether Guru and Shani are favourable for you or not.” Ranga accompanied me without any protest. As soon as Shastri saw me, he exclaimed, “What a surprise, Shyama! Haven’t seen you for a long time.”

Ranga insists that everything is fine and that he is back to his normal self. The narrator, very wittyly, mentions that he had similar feelings when he was seeing girls for himself, and immediately mentions that this could not be the reason for Ranga. He also suggested that they go see Shastri to see if the stars (Guru for Jupiter and Shani for Saturn) are aligned in their favour. Ranga accompanied him. When he saw Shastri ji, he implied that he hadn't seen the narrator in a long time, which is obviously not true because they had met the day before, the same morning.

Shyama is none other than your servant, the narrator of this tale. I got angry and shouted, “What? Only this morning…” Shastri completed my sentence, “You finished all your work and are now free to visit me.” Had he not done so, I would have ruined our plan by bursting like grains that are kept in the sun to dry. I was extremely careful of what I said afterwards. Shastri turned to Ranga. “When did the young son of our accountant clerk come home? What can I do for him? It’s very rarely that he visits us.”

The narrator reveals his pet name, Shyama, as he was known in the village. Because they saw each other that morning, the narrator assumed Shastri was lying and responded immediately. Shastri, on the other hand, finished his sentence and saved the entire situation. Shyama realised what he was about to do and began to take extra precautions. Shastri continued his performance and pretended to be surprised when he saw Ranga.

“Take out your paraphernalia. Our Rangappa seems to have something on his mind. Can you tell us what’s worrying him? Shall we put your science of astrology to the test?” There was authority in my voice as I spoke to Shastri. He took out two sheets of paper, some cowries and a book of palmyra leaves, saying, “Ours is an ancient science, ayya. There’s a story to it… But I won’t tell you that story now. This is not a harikatha which allows you to tell a story within a story… You may get bored. I’ll tell it to you some other time.”

• Paraphernalia- trappings associated with a particular institution or activity that are regarded as superfluous
• Cowries- a marine mollusc which has a glossy, brightly patterned domed shell with a long, narrow opening
• Palmyra- palm tree
• Harikatha- Story of Lord

With full authority, the narrator asks that the Shastri bring out all of his tools to assist in resolving whatever is going on in Ranga's mind. Shastri took out his essentials and told them that this is all ancient science, but he won't recite it now because it would bore them both, but he does intend to tell it later.

Shastri moved his lips fast as he counted on his fingers and then asked, “What’s your star?” Ranga didn’t know. “Never mind,” Shastri indicated with a shake of his head. He did some more calculations before saying in a serious tone, “It’s about a girl.” I had been controlling my laughter all this while. But now I burst out laughing. I turned to Ranga. “Exactly what I had said.” “Who is the girl?” It was your humble servant who asked the question.

Shastri moved his lips quickly while counting and asked Ranga about his star, which he didn't know about. Shastri suggested that it is manageable. He appeared to be performing some calculations. After a brief moment, he indicated that Ranga is thinking about a girl. Shyama couldn't stop laughing despite his best efforts. As a result, he posed the question to Shastri, inquiring about the girl's details.

Shastri thought for a while before replying, “She probably has the name of something found in the ocean.” “Kamala?” “Maybe.”
“Could it be Pachchi, moss?” “Must it be moss if it’s not Kamala? Why not pearl or ratna, the precious stone?” “Ratna? The girl in Rama Rao’s house is Ratna. Tell me, is there any chance of our negotiations bearing fruit?” “Definitely,” he said, after thinking for some time. There was a surprise on Ranga’s face. And some happiness. I noticed it. “But that girl is married…” I said, Then I turned to him. His face had fallen

Shastri thought for a moment before responding that the girl's name is most likely derived from something found in the ocean. They guessed Kamala, Pachchi, moss, pearl, and then Shastri said Ratna. Everything came together now for a girl named Ratna, Rama Rao's niece. Ranga was completely preoccupied with her. Ranga was both surprised and relieved that Shastri's predictions had come true. When he realised she was married, he was immediately disappointed.

“I don’t know all that. There may be some other girl who is suitable. I only told you what our shastra indicated,” Shastri said. We left the place. On the way, we passed by Rama Rao’s house. Ratna was standing at the door. I went in alone and came out a minute later.

Shastri stated that he did not know everything and that there could be another suitable girl. To make it appear genuine, Shastri interjected in their name guessing game and informed them that he only told them what could be read. They both left and crossed Rama Rao's door, where Shyama went to see Ratna for a minute and then returned.

“Surprising. This girl isn’t married, it seems. Someone told me the other day that she was. What Shastri told us has turned out to be true after all! But Rangappa, I can’t believe that you have been thinking of her. Swear on the name of Madhavacharya and tell me, is it true what Shastri said?”
I do not know whether anyone else would have been direct. Ranga admitted, “There’s greater truth in that shastra than we imagine. What he said is absolutely true.”

• Madhavacharya- an exponent of Vedantic philosophy from South India

When the narrator returns, he announces that, fortunately, Ratna is not married, and that someone may have misinformed him about this. The narrator expresses surprise that he has been thinking about Ratna and asks him to swear on the truth. Ranga surprised him by telling him that everything Shastri said was true. His faith in all the Shastras had grown stronger.

Shastri was at the well when I went there that evening. I said, “So Shastrigale, you repeated everything I had taught you without giving rise to any suspicion. What a marvellous shastra yours is!” He didn’t like it at all. “What are you saying? What you said to me was what I could have found out myself from the shastras. Don’t forget, I developed on the hints you had given me.” Tell me, is this what a decent man says?

• Marvellous- causing great wonder; extraordinary

Shyama went to see Shastri that evening while he was near the well and complimented him on how well he followed Shyama's instructions. Shastri didn't seem to agree with what the narrator was saying. As a result, he says that everything he said can be found in the Shastras. He was disagreed that the entire conversation had been staged.

Rangappa had come the other day to invite me for dinner. “What’s the occasion?” I asked. “It’s Shyama’s birthday. He is three.” “It’s not a nice name —Shyama,” I said. “I’m like a dark piece of oil-cake. Why did you have to give that golden child of yours such a name? What a childish couple you are, Ratna and you! I know, I know, it is the English custom of naming the child after someone you like… Your wife is eight months pregnant now. Who’s there to help your mother to cook?” “My sister has come with her.” I went there for dinner. Shyama rushed to me when I walked in and put his arms round my legs. I kissed him on his cheek and placed a ring on his tiny little finger.

The narrator now jumps ahead a few years, to a time when Ranga and Ratna are happily married, have a three-year-old son, and Ratna is eight months pregnant. Ranga's sister had arrived to assist them. Shyama's birthday had arrived! Yes, the couple named their son after the narrator, as it is a common foreign custom to name your child after someone you genuinely admire. When the narrator arrived for dinner, Shyama ran up to him, only to show his affection by holding his leg. The narrator kissed him and presented him with a ring.

Allow me to take leave of you, reader. I am always here, ready to serve you. You were not bored, I hope?

The narrator sends a final note to all of the readers, hoping they were not bored.

About the Author

Masti Venkatesha Iyengar (June 6, 1891 – June 6, 1986) was a well-known Kannada writer. He was the fourth Kannada writer to be honoured with the Jnanpith Award, India's highest literary honour. He was popularly known as Maasti Kannadada Aasti, which translates as "Maasti, Kannada's Treasure." His short stories are his most well-known works. Srinivasa was the pen name he used when writing. The title Rajasevasakta was bestowed upon him by the then Maharaja of Mysore, Nalvadi Krishnaraja Wadeyar.

Lesson-4

Albert Einstein at School

By Patrick Pringle

Albert Einstein at School Introduction

The lesson "Albert Einstein at School" is an extract from Patrick Pringle's biography of Albert Einstein, "The Young Einstein." Patrick introduces the reader to the years in Einstein's life when he was struggling in school every day and, as each day passed, the school diploma seemed like a distant dream. It sheds light on a few encounters with his teacher, how he felt about his neighbourhood, and how he only had one good friend, Yuri. The way Albert strategizes to get out of the miserable situation (school) and how things turn out in the end adds to the story's interest.

Albert Einstein at School Summary

The lesson begins with little Albert's encounter with his history teacher, in which the teacher asks him about a specific historical date, and, as usual, our unobservant Albert does not know the answer. This brings us to Einstein's little speech in class about what "education" should include and how what they are being taught is irrelevant. It results in him being punished by the teacher, which is nothing new. The lesson then discusses how Albert disliked his neighbourhood because of all the slum violence and compared it to his best friend, Yuri's neighbourhood, which he also disliked.

Albert even expresses his concerns to his cousin Elsa in Berlin, who believes he can pass with a little effort. At this point, Albert begins planning his escape from the school, and he suddenly has an idea involving a doctor who is willing to assist him. He wanted the doctor to know that he had a nervous breakdown and that the root cause of it was school, and that he should avoid it as much as possible. This is where Yuri agrees and makes an appointment with his friend, a newly-qualified doctor whom he warns is difficult to fool.

Albert is so preoccupied with his conversation with the doctor that he is actually nervous. When he meets the doctor, he learns that Yuri has already told him everything, and the doctor is eager to assist him. The doctor understands how exhausting school can be, so he asks Albert what he plans to do after school and realises that staying there isn't helping him or anyone else. As a result, he hands him his medical certificate and asks him to take Yuri out to eat. Despite the fact that Albert had no money to spare, he took Yuri out for supper. He is then seen with his math teacher, who is giving him a referral to make it easier for him to get into a college to pursue higher mathematics.

Einstein had studied all of the maths that are taught in schools, as well as some that are not. He is then summoned to the head teacher's office, where he is told to leave because no serious work can be done with him present. Despite how tempting it was for Albert to tell the head teacher the truth about his school, he resisted and walked straight out of the school with his head held high. He said goodbye to his only friend Yuri, and Elsa was already back in Berlin. Albert was finally out of school.

Albert Einstein at School Lesson Explanation

Albert Einstein (1879–1955) is regarded as the greatest physicist since Newton. In the following extract from The Young Einstein, the well-known biographer, Patrick Pringle, describes the circumstances which led to Albert Einstein’s expulsion from a German school.

• Biographer- a person who writes an account of someone else
• Expulsion- the action of forcing someone to leave an organization

The lesson is about Albert Einstein, the famous theoretical physicist. It is taken from Patrick Pringle's biography titled 'The Young Einstein.' The lesson discusses how Albert Einstein hated school, wanted to leave, and was eventually forced to leave.

“IN what year, Einstein,” asked the history teacher, “did the Prussians defeat the French at Waterloo?” “I don’t know, sir,” “Why don’t you know? You’ve been told it often enough.” “I must have forgotten.” “Did you ever try to learn?” asked Mr Braun. “No, sir,” Albert replied with his usual unthinking honesty. “Why not?” “I can’t see any point in learning dates. One can always look them up in a book.” Mr Braun was speechless for a few moments. “You amaze me, Einstein,” he said at last. “Don’t you realise that one can always look most things up in books? That applies to all the facts you learn at school.” “Yes, sir.” “Then I suppose you don’t see any point in learning facts.” “Frankly, sir, I don’t,” said Albert.

The lesson begins with Albert recounting his conversation with his history teacher, during which the teacher asks a question about the year in which the Prussians defeated the French at Waterloo. As usual, Einstein does not remember it, which Mr. Braun attributes to the fact that Einstein never bothers to learn them. Albert argues that it is pointless to memorise dates because they can be found in books at any time. Mr. Braun was stunned for a moment by the response. Finally, he responds and tells him that, similarly, most of what is taught in school can be found in books and that memorising facts is pointless. Einstein agrees with him despite not realising the statement was sarcastic.

“Then you don’t believe in education at all?” “Oh, yes, sir, I do. I don’t think learning facts is education.” “In that case,” said the history teacher with heavy sarcasm, “perhaps you will be so kind as to tell the class the Einstein theory of education.”

Professor concludes that if Einstein does not see the value in learning facts, he should not be a believer and follower of education. Albert clearly responds that he is undoubtedly invested in the concept of education, but that simply digesting facts is not education. The history teacher then asks about his elaborate version of ideal education in an attempt to mock him in front of the entire class.

Albert flushed. “I think it’s not facts that matter, but ideas,” he said. “I don’t see the point in learning the dates of battles, or even which of the armies killed more men. I’d be more interested in learning why those soldiers were trying to kill each other.” “That’s enough,” Mr Braun’s eyes were cold and cruel. “We don’t want a lecture from you, Einstein. You will stay in for an extra period today, although I don’t imagine it will do you much good. It won’t do the school any good, either. You are a disgrace. I don’t know why you continue to come.” “It’s not my wish, sir,” Albert pointed out. “Then you are an ungrateful boy and ought to be ashamed of yourself. I suggest you ask your father to take you away.”

Albert, once again emphasising his view of education, explains that learning the dates of battles and the number of men lost is pointless. What is important is to read and analyse the reasons for the battle between the two armies. Mr Braun became enraged and interrupted Albert's speech, punishing him by forcing him to stay for extra classes, even though it was useless to anyone, including Albert. The teacher then refers to him as a "disgrace," expressing his displeasure with his presence. Albert expresses his dissatisfaction with the situation. The teacher then calls him a "ungrateful boy" who should be ashamed and advises his father to remove him from school.

Albert felt miserable when he left school that afternoon; not that it had been a bad day—most days were bad now, anyway— but because he had to go back to the hateful place the next morning. He only wished his father would take him away, but there was no point in even asking. He knew what the answer would be: he would have to stay until he had taken his diploma.

• Miserable- unhappy

Albert was irritated when he left school that afternoon. It wasn't that the day was bad, but days were getting bad at school in general, and he hated the thought of going to school every morning. His only wish was that his father would accompany him to Italy, but it was pointless to ask because he would force him to stay until he finished his diploma.

Going back to his lodgings did not cheer him up. His father had so little money to spare that Albert had been found a room in one of the poorest quarters of Munich. He did not mind the bad food and lack of comfort, or even the dirt and squalor, but he hated the atmosphere of slum violence. His landlady beat her children regularly, and every Saturday her husband came drunk and beat her.

• Lodgings- temporary accommodation or a room rented out to someone, usually in the same residence as the owner
• Squalor- the state of being extremely dirty and unpleasant, especially as a result of poverty and neglect

Einstein's school experience was undoubtedly unpleasant, but his stay in Munich was no better. Because of his father's limited financial resources, he was forced to live in Munich's poorest neighbourhood. Poverty, bad food, dirt, and a lack of comfort did not bother him; it was the frequent fights at the place that he hated. Even the landlady's family was violent, with her hitting her children on occasion and her husband beating her every Saturday after he returned home drunk.

“But at least you have a room of your own, which is more than I can say,” said Yuri when he called round in the evening. “At least you live among civilised human beings, even if they are all poor students,” said Albert. “They are not all civilised,” Yuri replied. “Did you not hear that one of them was killed last week in a duel?” “And what happens to the one who killed him?” “Nothing, of course. He is even proud of it. His only worry is that the authorities have told him not to fight any more duels. He’s upset about this because he hasn’t a single scar on his face to wear for the rest of his life as a badge of honour.” “Ugh!” exclaimed Albert. “And these are the students.” “Well, you’ll be a student one day,” said Yuri. “I doubt it,” said Albert glumly.

• Duel- A contest with deadly weapons arranged between two people in order to settle a point of honour

We are now introduced to his friend Yuri, who is also not doing well. He reminds Albert that he should be grateful for the fact that he has his own room to live in, even if the neighbourhood is unpleasant. In response, Albert reminds Yuri that, despite living among impoverished students, they are all civilised and nonviolent. Yuri interrupts to point out that not all of them are polite, and that one was killed in a fight just a few weeks ago. The person who killed him faced no consequences other than being barred from ever again engaging in a duel. That guy's only regret was that he wouldn't be able to show a scar as a symbol of bravery. Albert sighs at the state of diploma students. Yuri then gives Albert hope by stating that he, too, will be a student, to which Albert expresses his doubtfulness.

“I don’t think I’ll ever pass the exams for the school diploma.” He told his cousin Elsa the same next time she came to Munich. Normally she lived in Berlin, where her father had a business. “I’m sure you could learn enough to pass the exams, Albert, if you tried,” she said, “I know lots of boys who are much more stupid than you are, who get through. They say you don’t have to know anything— you don’t have to understand what you’re taught, just be able to repeat it in the exams.” “That’s the whole trouble,” said Albert. “I’m no good at learning things by heart.”

Albert expresses his concern to his cousin Elsa, stating that he is unlikely to pass his exams. Elsa, who had come to see Einstein in Munich, usually lived in Berlin, where her family's business was located. Elsa tried to persuade Albert to learn just enough to pass the exams by memorising and repeating facts, stating that she had seen a lot of boring guys do it. Albert stated once more that memorising information is not his strong suit.

“You don’t need to be good at it. Anyone can learn like a parrot. You just don’t try. And yet I always see you with a book under your arm,” added Elsa. “What is the one you’re reading?” “A book on geology.” “Geology? Rocks and things? Do you learn that?” “No. We have hardly any science at school.” “Then why are you studying it?” “Because I like it. Isn’t that a good enough reason?” Elsa sighed. “You’re right, of course, Albert,” she said. “But it won’t help with your diploma.”

Elsa presented her counter-argument, claiming that anyone can learn to speak like a parrot, but only if they try, which Albert does not. She then adds irony by mentioning that he is always carrying a book under his arm. Albert informs her that it is a geology book that is not taught in school. He goes on to say that Science is rarely taught in schools. Elsa is perplexed as to why he is reading the book if it is not part of his curriculum. Albert clarifies that he enjoys studying science and considers this a good enough reason to read it. Elsa recognises this, but warns him that it will not help him pass his diploma.

Apart from books on science his only comfort was music, and he played his violin regularly until his landlady asked him to stop. “That wailing gets on my nerves,” she said. “There’s enough noise in this house, with all the kids howling.” Albert was tempted to point out that most of the time it was she who made them howl, but he decided it was better to say nothing.

• Wailing- crying with pain or anger
• Howling- making a howling sound

Albert enjoyed reading science books, and music was the only thing that brought him joy and peace. He spent a lot of time playing the violin, but only until his landlady told him to stop. The noise allegedly irritated her, which she justified by stating that her children already make a lot of noise in the house. Albert wanted to say that she was the one who made her kids cry all the time, but he resisted, probably for the best.

“I must get away from here,” he told Yuri, after six months alone in Munich. “It is absurd that I should go on like this. In the end it will turn out I have been wasting my father’s money and everyone’s time. It will be better for all if I stop now.” “And then what will you do?” Yuri asked. “I don’t know. If I go to Milan I’m afraid my father will send me back. Unless…” His eyes gleamed with a sudden idea. “Yuri, do you know any friendly doctors?” “I know a lot of medical students, and some of them are friendly,” said Yuri. “Doctor, no. I’ve never had enough money to go to one. Why?”

After six months of being alone in Munich, Albert told Yuri that he feels it's high time for him to leave. He sees no point in continuing in this manner because it will only waste his father's money, as well as everyone's time and effort. Yuri asks if Albert has any backup plans, to which Albert responds that going to Milan would be a bad idea because his father would send him back. They were talking about it when an idea came to him. He asked Yuri whether he knew any doctors. Unfortunately, Yuri could never afford to attend one, but he did have many medical friends.

“Suppose,” said Albert, “that I had a nervous breakdown. Suppose a doctor would say it’s bad for me to go to school, and I need to get right away from it?”

Albert's plan included a nervous breakdown and a doctor who could tell him that school is bad for him and that he should avoid it as much as possible.

“I can’t imagine a doctor saying that,” said Yuri. “I must try,” said Albert, “to find a doctor who specialises in nerves.” “There are plenty of them,” Yuri told him. He hesitated for a moment, and then added, rather reluctantly, “I’ll ask some of the students if they know one, if you like.” “Will you? Oh, thank you, Yuri,” Albert’s eyes were shining. “Wait a moment, I haven’t found one yet…” “Oh, but you will!” “And if I do I don’t know if he’ll be willing to help you…” “He will, he will,” declared Albert. “I’m going to have a real nervous breakdown, to make it easier for him.” He laughed merrily. “I’ve never seen you looking less nervous,” remarked Yuri. “A day or two at school will soon put that right.” Albert assured him.

Yuri didn't think the idea was a success because a doctor was unlikely to advise something like that. Albert was still willing to give this a try and find a doctor who specialised in nerves. Yuri offers to inquire about such a doctor with one of his friends. Albert expressed his appreciation. Yuri advised him to keep his hopes low and his expectations low. Albert was full of hope and optimism about finding a suitable doctor who would be willing to assist him. He even went so far as to offer to show an actual breakdown to make it appear more genuine. He was full of hope, and Yuri had never seen him feel that way before. Albert told him not to worry because a day or two at school would restore him to his normal state.

Certainly he had lost his high spirits when Yuri saw him next. “I can’t stand it any longer,” he said, “I really shall have a nervous breakdown that will satisfy any doctor.” “Keep it up, then,” said Yuri. “I’ve found a doctor for you.” “You have?” Albert’s face lit up. “Oh, good. When can I see him?” “I have an appointment for you for tomorrow evening.” Yuri said. “Here’s the address.” He handed Albert a piece of paper. “Doctor Ernst Weil -is he a specialist in nervous troubles?” asked Albert.

Albert was correct, and the next time Yuri saw him, he appeared troubled. Albert had given up by this point and was expecting a nervous breakdown if things continued like this. This would have made the doctor's job much easier. While giving him the address, Yuri informed him that he had found the perfect doctor for him and that he had an appointment the following evening. Albert read the doctor's name, Doctor Ernst Weil, and inquired of Yuri whether he specialised in nerves.

“Not exactly,” Yuri admitted. “As a matter of fact he only qualified as a doctor last week. You may even be his first patient!” “You knew him as a student, then?” “I’ve known Ernst for years.” Yuri hesitated for a few moments. “He’s not a fool,” he warned Albert. “What do you mean?” “Don’t try to pull the wool over his eyes1 , that’s all. Be frank with him, but don’t pretend you’ve got what you haven’t. Not that you’d deceive anyone.” Yuri added. “You’re the world’s worst liar.”

Yuri informed him that he was not a neuro specialist, that he had only recently graduated as a doctor, and that Albert could be his first patient. Yuri mentioned that he had known Albert for a long time and warned him not to lie to him because he was no fool. Yuri requested that he be truthful and not pretend to have nervous issues. He quickly added that it was also impossible because Albert is the "World's worst liar."

Albert spent the next day wondering what to tell the doctor. When the time arrived for his appointment he had worried over it so much that he really was quite nervous.

He spent the next day planning everything he would say to the doctor. He was worried about having a nervous breakdown because he was thinking so much.

“I don’t really know how to describe my trouble, Dr Weil,” he began. “Don’t try,” said the young doctor with a friendly smile. “Yuri has already given me a history of the case.” “Oh! What did he say?” “Only that you want me to think you have had a nervous breakdown, and say that you mustn’t go back to that school.” “Oh dear.” Albert’s face fell. “He shouldn’t have told you that.” “Why not? Isn’t it true, then?” “Yes, that’s the trouble. Now you’ll say there’s nothing wrong with me, and you’ll tell me to go back to school.” “Don’t be too sure of that,” said the doctor. “As a matter of fact I am pretty sure you are in a nervous state about that school.” “But I haven’t told you anything about it,” said Albert, wide-eyed. “How can you know that?”

Albert went to see the doctor and told him that he doesn't know what words to use to describe his miserable situation. The kind doctor comforted him, telling him that Yuri had already done it for him. It turned out that Yuri had told Dr. Weil the whole truth and how Albert wanted the doctor to believe he was having a nervous breakdown due to school. Albert expressed his dissatisfaction with Dr. Weil knowing the entire truth because he believed the doctor would not help him now. As a result, he'd have to return to school. Again, the friendly doctor comforted him, saying that his situation was well understood despite the fact that he had not told anyone about it. Albert was shocked by the doctor's response and asked as to how he came to know so much about Albert.

“Because you wouldn’t have come to see me about this if you hadn’t been pretty close to a nervous breakdown, that’s why. Now,” said the doctor briskly, “if I certify that you have had a nervous breakdown, and must stay away from school for a while, what will you do?” “I’ll go to Italy,” said Albert. “To Milan, where my parents are.” “And what will you do there?” “I’ll try to get into an Italian college or institute.” “How can you, without a diploma?” “I’ll ask my mathematics teacher to give me something about my work, and perhaps that will be enough. I’ve learnt all the maths they teach at school, and a bit more,” he added when Dr Weil looked doubtful.

The doctor responds very professionally that if Albert wasn't on the verge of a nervous breakdown, he wouldn't be seeing him. He then inquired about Albert's plans after he graduated from high school. Albert informs him that he intends to move to Italy to live with his parents and attend an Italian college. The doctor expresses his confusion about college admission without a high school diploma. Albert assures him that his math teacher will provide him with a reference that will get him in. Albert claimed to have learned all of the mathematics taught in school, as well as some additional material.

“Well, it’s up to you,” he said. “I doubt if it will come off, but I can see you’re not doing yourself or anyone else much good by staying here. How long would you like me to say you should stay away from school? Would six months be all right?” “This is very kind of you.” “It’s nothing. I’ve only just stopped being a student myself, so I know how you feel. Here you are.” Dr Weil handed him the certificate, “And the best of luck.” “How much…” “Nothing, if you have anything to spare, invite Yuri to a meal. He’s a good friend of mine, and yours too, I think,” Albert had no money to spare, but he pretended he had and took Yuri out to supper.

The doctor is still unsure whether the college idea will succeed, but he is certain that Albert's attendance at school is not benefiting anyone. As a result, he confirms whether a six-month break from school would be sufficient to implement his plans. Dr. Weil tells him that he understands the situation so well because he has recently graduated. He even refuses to accept his fees and requests that he take Yuri out to eat. Albert, filled with joy, took Yuri out for supper despite the fact that he had no extra money.

“Isn’t it wonderful?” he said after showing Yuri the certificate. “Yes, it’s fine,” Yuri agreed. “Six months is a good period. This way you won’t actually be leaving the school so if the worst comes to the worst you’ll be able to come back and carry on for your diploma.” “I’ll never go back to that place,” Albert assured him. “I’m going to take this certificate to the head teacher tomorrow, and that will be the end of it.” “Don’t forget to get a reference in writing from your mathematics teacher first,” Yuri reminded him.

When Yuri sees the certificate, he assures Albert that six months is a good time frame because, if things go wrong, Albert can return to finish his school diploma. ALbert assures Yuri that this will not happen because he will never return to "that place" or school. He expressed his desire to present the certificate to the principal the following day, while Yuri reminded him to first obtain a reference letter from the mathematics teacher.

Mr Koch willingly gave Albert the reference he wanted. “If I say I can’t teach you any more, and probably you’ll soon be able to teach me, will that be all right?” he asked. “That’s saying too much, sir,” said Albert. “It’s only the truth. But alright. I’ll put it more seriously.” It was still a glowing reference, and Mr Koch made the point that Albert was ready immediately to enter a college or institute for the study of higher mathematics.

Mr. Koch, Albert's math teacher, gave referral to him. He even went so far as to say that Albert would be ready to teach him soon, which Albert thought was "saying too much," most likely out of respect for his teacher. Mr. Koch then put it in different words, but provided the reference in such a way that Albert could easily enter any college to pursue higher mathematics education.

“I’m sorry you’re leaving us, although you’re wasting your time in my class,” he said. “It’s almost the only class where I’m not wasting my time,” said Albert. “But how did you know I’m leaving, sir?” “You wouldn’t have asked me for this reference otherwise.” “I thought you’d wonder…” “There’s nothing to wonder about, Einstein. I knew you were going to leave before you knew yourself.” Albert was puzzled. What did the teacher mean? He soon found out. Before he had a chance to ask for an interview with the head teacher, he was summoned to the head’s room. “Well, it saves me the trouble of having to wait an hour or two outside,” he thought

The teacher expresses his dissatisfaction with Albert's departure, but he knew Albert was wasting his time there. Albert immediately corrected him, stating that Mr Koch's class was the only one in which he was not wasting his time. Albert didn't tell him anything about his departure, but Mr Koch recognised it long before Albert did, thanks to the referral. Albert was summoned to the chief's office, much to his surprise. Although he was unaware of the reason and was planning on making his own appointment, he was relieved that it saved him the trouble of waiting for one or two hours to meet him.

He hardly bothered to wonder why he had been sent for, but vaguely supposed he was to be punished again for bad work and laziness. Well, he had finished with punishments.

Albert didn't think much about why he was summoned to the office, but he knew it was to punish him for his poor performance and lack of interest. But he was done with it all now.

“I’m not going to punish you,” the head teacher said, to Albert’s surprise. “Your work is terrible, and I’m not prepared to have you here any longer, Einstein. I want you to leave the school now.” “Leave school now?” repeated Albert, dazed. “That is what I said.” “You mean,” said Albert, “that I am to be expelled?”

• Expelled- officially make someone leave a school or any other organisation

Einstein was surprised to know that he would not be punished this time. The headmaster stated that he is tired of his laziness and wishes to have him removed from the school. Albert's first thought was that he was about to be "expelled."

You can take it that way if you wish, Einstein.” The head teacher was not mincing words. “The simplest thing will be for you to go of your own accord, and then the question won’t arise.” “But,” said Albert, “what crime have I committed?” “Your presence in the classroom makes it impossible for the teacher to teach and for the other pupils to learn. You refuse to learn, you are in constant rebellion, and no serious work can be done while you are there.” Albert felt the medical certificate almost burning a hole in his pocket. “I was going to leave, anyway,” he said. “Then we are in agreement at least, Einstein,” the head said.

• Mincing words- to speak vaguely or indirectly
• Rebellion- the action or process of resisting authority, control or convention

The principal was serious and suggested that he leave school on his own rather than being expelled because it would be easier for both parties. Albert had no idea what "crime" he had committed. The head teacher explained how his presence makes it difficult for teachers to teach other students and how no work can be done when he is present. While still standing there,

Albert felt the certificate was "burning a hole in his pocket," which meant that the money he spent on extracting the certificate (paid in the form of a meal with Yuri) had gone to waste because the certificate had been rendered useless. He was already being expelled from school. Regardless, Albert expresses his intention to leave, to which the teacher responds that, for the first time, they are agreeing on something.

For a moment Albert was tempted to tell the man what he thought of him and of his school. Then he stopped himself. Without another word, holding his head high, he stalked out. “Shut the door after you!” shouted the head. Albert ignored him

• Stalked out- to leave (some place) in a haughty, stiff or threatening manner

Albert was driven at the time by his desire to tell the head teacher the truth about the school, but he managed to resist because his wish had finally been granted. He walked straight out of the school, his head held high, ignoring the head teacher's instructions.

He walked straight on, out of the school where he had spent five miserable years, without turning his head to give it a last look. He could not think of anyone he wanted to say goodbye to. Indeed, Yuri was almost the only person in Munich he felt like seeing before he left the town he had come to hate almost as much as the school. Elsa was back in Berlin, and he had no other real friends. “Goodbye —and good luck,” said Yuri when he left. “You are going to a wonderful country, I think. I hope you will be happier there.”

He didn't even look back at the place where he had spent the worst years of his life. He had no true friends or close acquaintances to whom he could say goodbye. Before leaving, he met Yuri, who wished him well and hoped he would be happy in the country he was going to. Elsa was also in Berlin with her family, so he had no one else to say goodbye to.

About the Author

Born in 1935 in Rochester, New York; children: Heidi, Jeffrey, and Sean (first Laurence Pringle marriage); Jesse and Rebecca (third marriage). Cornell University (B.S., 1958); University of Massachusetts (M.S., 1960); and Syracuse University (Doctoral studies, 1960-62). Hobbies and interests include photography, film, sports, and surf fishing.

 

Lesson-5

Mother’s Day

By J.B. Priestly

Mother’s Day Introduction

J.B. Priestly's play depicts how a mother's efforts are dismissed by her family. It describes how her family members, who work eight-hour shifts every day, regard her despite the fact that she works all day and all week. They take her for granted despite everything she does for them. They make her feel obligated to provide for them while failing to recognise her efforts. It revolves around how her fortune teller friend Mrs Fitzgerald helps her earn the place and respect she deserves as the lady of the house.

Mother’s Day Summary

The play begins with a candid conversation between two friends at Mrs Pearson's house. Mrs Fitzgerald is telling Mrs Pearson her fortune and giving her advice on it. Mrs Pearson goes on and on about how her family members do not value her and do not appreciate anything she does for them. She is available to them 24 hours a day, seven days a week, and all they do is come in, throw orders at her, and leave without even saying thank you. Mrs Fitzgerald tells her to take her place as the woman of the house, but Mrs Pearson, being the sweet and innocent lady she is, does not want to cause any trouble for her family. She continues to handle their tantrums because she doesn't know where to begin disciplining them.

Mrs Fitzgerald proposes a plan in which their bodies are switched so that Mrs Fitzgerald can take her place without her family knowing. Mrs Pearson is initially hesitant, but Mrs Fitzgerald persuades her otherwise. Mrs Fitzgerald uses her magic, which she learned from the East, to change their personalities. Mrs Fitzgerald is now inhabiting Mrs Pearson's body and vice versa. Mrs Fitzgerald is now told by the new Mrs Pearson to go to her house for the time being. Doris Pearson, Mrs Pearson's daughter, enters the scene at this point in the play, asking for tea and instructing Mrs Pearson to iron her yellow silk. She is shocked to see her mother smoking, and the argument begins when Mrs Pearson insults Charlie Spence, the man she is about to date. Doris walks away, crying, and her brother, Cyril, enters, asking for tea and something to eat. He, too, is shocked by the fact that there is nothing to eat and no tea to drink when he returns home. When asked if anything is wrong, Mrs Pearson says she has never felt better. Cyril becomes irritated, and Doris joins him, where they know and understand that Mrs Pearson may even take the weekend off. George Pearson then enters the scene, surprised to see his wife day-drinking.

He announces that he has a special match at the club and will not be needing tea this afternoon. He becomes irritated once more when told there is no tea. Mrs Pearson makes fun of him for being irritated at not receiving something he didn't actually want. She tells him about the slang he hears at the club. She goes on to mock him, saying that if he had stayed at home every now and then, this would not have happened. Mrs Fitzgerald enters after a while. She intervenes in their personal matters. Mrs Fitzgerald calls George by his name, which irritates him. But, just as she had done all day, Mrs Pearson barges in to get George back on track. Doris enters the scene, and she, too, is not fond of Mrs Fitzgerald. Mrs Pearson also helps her get back on track.

Mrs Fitzgerald (actually Mrs Pearson) loses her cool at this point and asks the family members to excuse the two friends for a moment. She assures them that she knows how to improve the situation. Mrs Fitzgerald asks Mrs Pearson to switch their bodies, and while Mrs Fitzgerald initially resists, she eventually agrees. They go through the same gestures as before. Mrs Fitzgerald, the real Mrs Fitzgerald, now explains to Mrs Pearson how important it is for her to be a little domineering every now and then in order to establish her control and respect. Mrs Pearson invites the family in and suggests that they play rummy while the kids prepare supper. Everyone agrees right away, and they are relieved as well. Mrs Fitzgerald exits, and the play comes to a ends.

Mother’s Day Lesson Explanation

The following play is a humorous portrayal of the status of the mother in a family. Let’s read on to see how Mrs Pearson’s family reacts when she tries to stand up for her own rights.

Characters
MRS ANNIE PEARSON
GEORGE PEARSON
DORIS PEARSON
CYRIL PEARSON
MRS FITZGERALD

The action takes place in the living-room of the Pearsons’ house in a London suburb.

Time: The Present

Scene: The living-room of the Pearson family. Afternoon. It is a comfortably furnished, much lived-in room in a small suburban semi-detached villa. If necessary only one door need be used, but it is better with two — one up left leading to the front door and the stairs and the other in the right wall leading to the kitchen and the back door. There can be a muslin-covered window in the left wall and possibly one in the right wall, too. The fireplace is assumed to be in the fourth wall. There is a settee up right, an armchair down left and one down right. A small table with two chairs on either side of it stands at the centre. When the curtain rises it is an afternoon in early autumn and the stage can be well lit. Mrs Pearson at right, and Mrs Fitzgerald at left, are sitting opposite each other at the small table, on which are two tea-cups and saucers and the cards with which Mrs Fitzgerald has been telling Mrs Pearson’s fortune. Mrs Pearson is a pleasant but worried-looking woman in her forties. Mrs Fitzgerald is older, heavier and a strong and sinister personality. She is smoking. It is very important that these two should have sharply contrasting voices —Mrs Pearson speaking in a light, flurried sort of tone, with a touch of suburban Cockney perhaps; and Mrs Fitzgerald with a deep voice, rather Irish perhaps.

MRS FITZGERALD: [collecting up the cards] And that’s all I can tell you, Mrs Pearson. Could be a good fortune. Could be a bad one. All depends on yourself now. Make up your mind—and there it is.

Mrs Pearson and Mrs Fitzgerald are sitting opposite each other at Mrs Pearson's place when the story begins. Mrs Fitzgerald is a fortune-teller, and she claims to have seen Mrs Pearson's fortune, so she says to have told her everything she is capable of telling. The same reading can be beneficial if Mrs Pearson's actions are in sync with it, but it can also be harmful.

MRS PEARSON: Yes, thank you, Mrs Fitzgerald. I’m much obliged, I’m sure. It’s wonderful having a real fortune-teller living next door. Did you learn that out East, too?

Mrs Pearson thanks Mrs Fitzgerald for seeing her fortune and expresses how wonderful it is to have someone like her around. She then asks if she (Mrs Fitzgerald) has learned fortune-telling from the East.

MRS FITZGERALD: I did. Twelve years I had of it, with my old man rising to be Lieutenant Quartermaster. He learnt a lot, and I learnt a lot more. But will you make up your mind now, Mrs Pearson dear? Put your foot down, once an’ for all, an’ be the mistress of your own house an’ the boss of your own family.

Mrs Fitzgerald responds that she studied the art for at least twelve years under East. She was learning this as her father ascended the ranks to become Lieutenant Quartermaster. Mrs Pearson is then inspired to stand up for herself and gain the respect she deserves at home.

MRS PEARSON: [smiling apologetically] That’s easier said than done. Besides I’m so fond of them even if they are so thoughtless and selfish. They don’t mean to be…

• Thoughtless- (of a person or their behaviour) not showing consideration for the needs of other people

Mrs Pearson responds to Mrs Fitzgerald's advice by telling her that it is far more difficult than it appears. This is because she adores her family, even if they are oblivious to her needs. She enjoys providing for them, even if they are selfish.

MRS FITZGERALD: [cutting in] Maybe not. But it’ud be better for them if they learnt to treat you properly…

Mrs Fitzgerald wants Mrs Pearson to realise that if she really tries, it isn't that difficult. Furthermore, she believes it would benefit their well-being if they treated her with love and respect.

MRS PEARSON: Yes, I suppose it would, in a way.

Mrs Pearson agrees with Mrs Fitzgerald's point of view.

MRS FITZGERALD: No doubt about it at all. Who’s the better for being spoilt—grown man, lad or girl? Nobody. You think it does ’em good when you run after them all the time, take their orders as if you were the servant in the house, stay at home every night while they go out enjoying themselves? Never in all your life. It’s the ruin of them as well as you. Husbands, sons, daughters should be taking notice of wives an’ mothers, not giving ’em orders an’ treating ’em like dirt. An’ don’t tell me you don’t know what I mean, for I know more than you’ve told me.

Mrs Fitzgerald believes they must learn to treat Mrs Pearson with respect. She goes on to say that none of them (husband, daughter, and son) have turned out well as a result of Mrs Pearson's spoiling. She shows her how running after them, dealing with their tantrums, doing all of their chores for them, and staying home while they have fun every night is bad for Mrs Pearson and her family. She explains how it should be the other way around; the family should treat wives and mothers with respect and look after them rather than giving orders to them. Mrs Fitzgerald tells Mrs Pearson flatly that she should not act mysteriously because she is fully aware of the situation.

MRS PEARSON: [dubiously] I—keep dropping a hint…

• Dubiously- with hesitation or doubt

Mrs Pearson says, hesitantly, that she frequently tries to give her and the family hints in between conversations.

MRS FITZGERALD: Hint? It’s more than hints your family needs, Mrs Pearson.

Mrs Fitzegerald is attempting to persuade her that it is high time for Mrs Pearson's family to respect her, which will require more than just hints. They must be brought back on track.

MRS PEARSON: [dubiously] I suppose it is. But I do hate any unpleasantness. And it’s so hard to know where to start. I keep making up my mind to have it out with them but somehow I don’t know how to begin. [She glances at her watch or at a clock ] Oh —good gracious! Look at the time. Nothing ready and they’ll be home any minute and probably all in a hurry to go out again.

[As she is about to rise, Mrs Fitzgerald reaches out across the table and pulls her down.]

Mrs Pearson understands what Mrs Fitzgerald is saying, but she can't bear the thought of causing them any discomfort. She wants to talk it out with her family and take a stand, but she doesn't know where to begin. As she says this, she notices that it is time for everyone to return home. Immediately, she becomes concerned that nothing is prepared for them to return home, and that they will most likely have to rush out again. Mrs Fitzgerald prevents her from getting up and making arrangements for her family.

MRS FITZGERALD: Let ’em wait or look after themselves for once. This is where your foot goes down. Start now. [She lights a cigarette from the one she has just finished.]

She easily asks Mrs Pearson to begin right now, while lighting another cigarette. She tells her to stop always providing for them and to let them experience what it's like to do things on their own.

MRS PEARSON: [embarrassed] Mrs Fitzgerald —I know you mean well —in fact, I agree with you—but I just can’t—and it’s no use you trying to make me. If I promise you I’d really have it out with them, I know I wouldn’t be able to keep my promise.

Mrs Pearson knows in her heart that Mrs Fitzgerald is correct, but she tells her that it is nearly impossible for her to obey. She believes there is no point in making a promise she will be unable to keep.

MRS FITZGERALD: Then let me do it.

She requests that Mrs Pearson let her do the difficult part and teach Mrs Pearson's family a lesson.

MRS PEARSON: [flustered] Oh no—thank you very much, Mrs Fitzgerald —but that wouldn’t do at all. It couldn’t possibly be somebody else — they’d resent it at once and wouldn’t listen— and really I couldn’t blame them. I know I ought to do it— but you see how it is? [She looks apologetically across the table, smiling rather miserably.]

• Flustered- agitated or confused
• Resent- feel bitterness or indignation at a circumstance, action or person

Mrs Pearson tells her that she does not believe it is a good idea. She says this because she knows they will react to her new behaviour at first, but then ignore it and go back to their old ways. Mrs Pearson also does not blame them for this. She is stuck because she knows what she needs to do but is unable to do it.

MRS FITZGERALD: [coolly] You haven’t got the idea.

Mrs Pearson is told that she has no idea how successful the idea will be.

MRS PEARSON: [bewildered] Oh —I’m sorry—I thought you asked me to let you do it.

Mrs Fitzgerald, she reasoned, wanted to take her place in the house and be strict with her family.

MRS FITZGERALD: I did. But not as me— as you.

She confirms that she meant the same thing, but she will not be acting in her place. She will become Mrs Pearson and then carry out her responsibilities.

MRS PEARSON: But—I don’t understand. You couldn’t be me.

Mrs Pearson, as perplexed as she is at the moment, asks Mrs Fitzgerald to elaborate.

MRS FITZGERALD: [coolly] We change places. Or — really — bodies. You look like me. I look like you.

She proposes that they swap places, or that they change bodies, so that Mrs Fitzgerald looks like Mrs Pearson and vice versa.

MRS PEARSON: But that’s impossible.

Mrs Pearson, now more perplexed and even surprised, expresses that this is not possible.

MRS FITZGERALD: How do you know? Ever tried it?

Mrs Fitzgerald questions Mrs Pearson's response by asking if she has ever tried it.

MRS PEARSON: No, of course not…

Mrs Pearson had obviously never tried it.

MRS FITZGERALD: [coolly] I have. Not for some time but it still ought to work. Won’t last long, but long enough for what we want to do. Learnt it out East, of course, where they’re up to all these tricks. [She holds her hand out across the table, keeping the cigarette in her mouth] Gimme your hands, dear.

Mrs Fitzgerald tells her in a relaxed tone that she has tried it before and that, despite the fact that it has been a long time, the trick should still work. Its effect will last only a short time, but it will be enough for them to accomplish their goal. She went on to say, while holding Mrs Pearson's hands, that she learned the trick from the East.

MRS PEARSON: [dubiously] Well —I don’t know —is it right?

Mrs Pearson, still perplexed, seeks assurance from Mrs Fitzgerald.

MRS FITZGERALD: It’s your only chance. Give me your hands an’ keep quiet a minute. Just don’t think about anything. [Taking her hands] Now look at me. [They stare at each other. Muttering] Arshtatta dum—arshtatta lam—arshtatta lamdumbona… [This little scene should be acted very carefully. We are to assume that the personalities change bodies. After the spell has been spoken, both women, still grasping hands, go lax, as if the life were out of them. Then both come to life, but with the personality of the other. Each must try to adopt the voice and mannerisms of the other. So now Mrs Pearson is bold and dominating and Mrs Fitzgerald is nervous and fluttering.]

Mrs Fitzgerald, on the other hand, makes her aware that she has no other choice while holding her hands. In the transmission process, she gives Mrs Pearson a few simple instructions and speaks a few words in her mouth. When she whispers the spell, both of their bodies go lifeless for a brief moment while still holding each other's hands. As they both reawaken, they try to imitate each other. Mrs Fitzgerald is now a little shy, and Mrs Pearson is no longer afraid.

MRS PEARSON: [now with Mrs Fitzgerald’s personality] See what I mean, dear? [She notices the cigarette] Here—you don’t want that. [She snatches it and puts it in her own mouth, puffing contentedly.]

The personalities have now been switched, and the transmission process has concluded. She is confident in the success of her trick as she snatches the cigarette from Mrs Fitzgerald's (now Mrs Pearson) hand.

[Mrs Fitzgerald, now with Mrs Pearson’s personality, looks down at herself and sees that her body has changed and gives a scream of fright.]

Mrs Fitzgerad (now Mrs Pearson) looks in the mirror and is surprised to see herself in the body of Mrs Fitzgerald. As a result, she screams in terror.

MRS FITZGERALD: [with Mrs Pearson’s personality] Oh —it’s happened.

Mrs Fitzgerald, who is still in shock, now believes it is possible and that their bodies have changed.

MRS PEARSON: [complacently] Of course it’s happened. Very neat. Didn’t know I had it in me.

• Complacently- showing smug or uncritical satisfaction with oneself or one’s achievements

Mrs Pearson affirms proudly and thinks to herself that she was unsure if she still had the ability to perform the magic.

MRS FITZGERALD: [alarmed] But whatever shall I do, Mrs Fitzgerald? George and the children can’t see me like this.

Mrs Pearson (now in the body of Mrs Fitzgerald) is concerned that her family will be unable to recognise her in the body of Mrs Fitzgerald.

MRS PEARSON: [grimly] They aren’t going to — that’s the point. They’ll have me to deal with —only they won’t know it.

• Grimly- bitter, hard manner

She tells Mrs Pearson, who is worried, that her family will have to face Mrs Fitzgerald, who is now in her body. The secret is theirs alone, and the rest of the family will be kept in the dark.

MRS FITZGERALD: [still alarmed] But what if we can’t change back? It’ud be terrible.

She is still concerned about the consequences and the inability to reverse the magic.

MRS PEARSON: Here—steady, Mrs Pearson —if you had to live my life it wouldn’t be so bad. You’d have more fun as me than you’ve had as you.

To comfort her, she tells the real Mrs Pearson that she would have more privilege and fun being Mrs Fitzgerald while living her life.

MRS FITZGERALD: Yes—but I don’t want to be anybody else…

Still concerned, she tells her that she wishes to live as herself and not as someone else.

MRS PEARSON: Now —stop worrying. It’s easier changing back —I can do it any time we want…

She reassures her that there is nothing to worry about and that she will reverse it whenever Mrs Pearson desires.

MRS FITZGERALD: Well—do it now…

MRS PEARSON: Not likely. I’ve got to deal with your family first. That’s the idea, isn’t it? Didn’t know how to begin with ‘em, you said. Well. I’ll show you.

Mrs Pearson wishes to return to her body, whereas Mrs Fitzgerald believes she should first deal with her family. Mrs Pearson had no idea where to start, so Mrs Fitzgerald would do it for her.

MRS FITZGERALD: But what am I going to do?

In the meantime, she wonders what she should do.

MRS PEARSON: Go into my house for a bit—there’s nobody there— then pop back and see how we’re doing. You ought to enjoy it. Better get off now before one of ’em comes.

She tells her to go to Mrs Fitzgerald's house, which is currently empty. She could come back later to see how things are going, but for now, she should enjoy the process. She then tells her to leave before anyone notices her.

MRS FITZGERALD: [nervously rising] Yes —I suppose that’s best. You’re sure it’ll be all right?

Mrs Fitzgerald gets up to leave, realising what is going on, and confirms once more if everything is going to work.

MRS PEARSON: [chuckling] It’ll be wonderful. Now off you go, dear. [Mrs Fitzgerald crosses and hurries out through the door right. Left to herself, Mrs Pearson smokes away — lighting another cigarette — and begins laying out the cards for patience on the table. After a few moments Doris Pearson comes bursting in left. She is a pretty girl in her early twenties, who would be pleasant enough if she had not been spoilt.]

• Chuckling- laugh quietly or inwardly

Mrs Pearson comforts her and tells her to go. Mrs Pearson attempts to make herself at ease while Mrs Fitzgerald departs by lighting another cigarette and sorting her cards. Doris Pearson, a young woman of about twenty, enters after a while. She is Mrs Pearson's daughter, and she had the potential to do well if she hadn't been overly spoiled.

DORIS: [before she has taken anything in] Mum— you’ll have to iron my yellow silk. I must wear it tonight. [She now sees what is happening, and is astounded.] What are you doing? [She moves down left centre.]

• Astounded- shock or greatly surprise

Doris instructs her mother, unnoticed, to iron her yellow silk gown because she is supposed to go out that night. She is startled when she notices her mother and rushes towards her.

[Mrs Pearson now uses her ordinary voice, but her manner is not fluttering and apologetic but cool and incisive.]

MRS PEARSON: [not even looking up] What d’you think I’m doing—whitewashing the ceiling?

• Fluttering- trembling
• Incisive- intelligently analytical and clear thinking

As she prepares to speak, she adopts her normal calm tone rather than her usual regretful and shaky tone. She looks at her and sarcastically asks her what she was doing, according to her. Does it appear that she is painting the ceiling?

DORIS: [still astounded] But you’re smoking!

She mentions her mother's smoking. Mrs Pearson is usually not seen smoking, so her shock is understandable.

MRS PEARSON: That’s right, dear. No law against it, is there?

Mrs Pearson responds, once again calmly, that she saw it correctly and tells her that there is no law prohibiting smoking.

DORIS: But I thought you didn’t smoke.

She is surprised because she assumed Mrs Pearson did not smoke.

MRS PEARSON: Then you thought wrong.

She tells Doris flatly that she was mistaken.

DORIS: Are we having tea in the kitchen?

Doris asks in the kitchen if the tea is ready for her.

MRS PEARSON: Have it where you like, dear.

She tells her that she is able to take it wherever she wants.

DORIS: [angrily] Do you mean it isn’t ready?

She is irritated and asks if Mrs Pearson is indicating that the tea is not ready.

MRS PEARSON: Yours isn’t. I’ve had all I want. Might go out later and get a square meal at the Clarendon.

Mrs Pearson responds that she has had all of her tea and that there is none ready for Doris. She then mentions that she may go out to eat at the Clarendon.

DORIS: [hardly believing her ears] Who might?

She asks Mrs Pearson, a little more shocked, who would go out for a meal?

MRS PEARSON: I might. Who d’you think?

Mrs Pearson tells her that she might go out to eat again. She is only speaking about herself.

DORIS: [staring at her] Mum —what’s the matter with you?

Doris senses something is wrong and inquires of Mrs Pearson as to what has happened to her.

MRS PEARSON: Don’t be silly.

DORIS: [indignantly] It’s not me that’s being silly— and I must say it’s a bit much when I’ve been working hard all day and you can’t even bother to get my tea ready. Did you hear what I said about my yellow silk?

• Indignantly- in a manner indicating anger or annoyance at something perceived as unfair

She exclaims that she is not being foolish because she believes it is unfair to her. She finds it difficult to accept that she has been working hard and that when she returns home tired, she cannot even expect a cup of tea. She then asks of Mrs Pearson whether she has got the instructions regarding her yellow silk.

MRS PEARSON: No. Don’t you like it now? I never did.

Mrs Pearson denies knowing anything about her dress. She asks Doris if she now prefers to be treated in the same manner as Mrs Pearson.

DORIS: [indignantly] Of course I like it. And I’m going to wear it tonight. So I want it ironed.

She rudely tells Mrs Pearson that she has no objections and that she wants her yellow dress ironed so that she can wear it.

MRS PEARSON: Want it ironed? What d’you think it’s going to do—iron itself?

Mrs Pearson asks Doris what she means when she says she wants the dress "ironed," because the dress will not be ironed on its own.

DORIS: No, you’re going to iron it for me… You always do.

Doris tells her she wants Mrs Pearson to do it the same way she always does.

MRS PEARSON: Well, this time I don’t. And don’t talk rubbish to me about working hard. I’ve a good idea how much you do, Doris Pearson. I put in twice the hours you do, and get no wages nor thanks for it. Why are you going to wear your yellow silk? Where are you going?

Mrs Pearson refuses to iron Doris's dress this time and tells her not to brag about the long hours she works because Mrs Pearson works twice as many hours as Doris and has never complained or been thanked for it. She isn't even compensated. She then asks Doris as to where she is supposed to go that night.

DORIS: [sulkily] Out with Charlie Spence.

• Sulkily- a disagreeable mood

She responds that she is going to meet Charlie Spence for dinner.

MRS PEARSON: Why?

Doris is asked on what occasion she is going out with Charlie.

DORIS: [wildly] Why? Why? What’s the matter with you? Why shouldn’t I go out with Charlie Spence if he asks me and I want to? Any objections? Go on —you might as well tell me…

She becomes even more irritated and tells her that Charlie has asked her out and she wants to go. She asks Mrs Pearson irritably if she objects to that as well, and if so, she might as well spit it out. Doris is perplexed as to what has happened to her mother, who has been acting strangely.

MRS PEARSON: [severely] Can’t you find anybody better? I wouldn’t be seen dead with Charlie Spence. Buck teeth and half-witted…

Mrs Pearson asks her if she can find anyone better than Charlie Spence. She believes he does not have a good appearance and is not very intelligent.

DORIS: He isn’t…

She makes an attempt to defend Charlie Spence.

MRS PEARSON: When I was your age I’d have found somebody better than Charlie Spence—or given myself up as a bad job.

Mrs Pearson boasts that she would have done a better job of finding a good boy, someone better than Charlie Spence. If she hadn't succeeded, she would have given up on finding anyone who said she was bad at it.

DORIS: [nearly in tears] Oh —shut up!

Mrs Pearson, almost in tears, asks her to stop picking at her.

[Doris runs out left. Mrs Pearson chuckles and begins putting the cards together. After a moment Cyril Pearson enters left. He is the masculine counterpart of Doris.]

CYRIL: [briskly] Hello—Mum. Tea ready?

• Briskly- in an active, quick or energetic way

Mrs Pearson's son, Cyril, asks her if the tea is ready as soon as he gets home.

MRS PEARSON: No.

CYRIL: [moving to the table; annoyed] Why not?

Mrs Pearson tells him that the tea is not ready, which irritates him, and he moves towards the table to ask about the reason for the tea's non-preparation.

MRS PEARSON: [coolly] I couldn’t bother.
CYRIL: Feeling off-colour or something?

Mrs Pearson tells him, calmly, that she didn't bother making tea for him. Concerned, Cyril asks as to her well-being.

MRS PEARSON: Never felt better in my life.

She conveys that she is at her best by being all relaxed.

CYRIL: [aggressively] What’s the idea then?

When he hears her response, he becomes argumentative and asks her to explain.

MRS PEARSON: Just a change.

Mrs Pearson says the tea isn't ready because she wants to break the monotony.

CYRIL: [briskly] Well, snap out of it, Ma—and get cracking. Haven’t too much time. [Cyril is about to go when Mrs Pearson’s voice checks him.]

• Briskly- In an active, quick, or energetic way
• Cracking- fast

In a commanding tone, he tells her to stop resting and make tea for him. He tells her that he is in a hurry, as he always is.

MRS PEARSON: I’ve plenty of time.

Mrs Pearson stops Cyril as he is about to leave, saying that he may be in a hurry, but she is calm because she has plenty of time.

CYRIL: Yes, but I haven’t. Got a busy night tonight. [moving left to the door] Did you put my things out?

Cyril, being a spoiled child, responds that he is running out of time and that it will be a long night. He asks Mrs Pearson if all of his belongings are ready.

MRS PEARSON: [coolly] Can’t remember. But I doubt it.

She says, calmly, that she doesn't remember taking them out, which is probably because she didn't take them out.

CYRIL: [moving to the table; protesting] Now —look. When I asked you this morning, you promised. You said you’d have to look through ‘em first in case there was any mending.

Cyril moves towards Mrs Pearson in an attempt to raise an objection, reminding her that she promised to keep them ready. She even promised to fix them if they needed it.

MRS PEARSON: Yes — well now I’ve decided I don’t like mending.

Mrs Pearson stated that she has changed her mind because she realised that she dislikes sewing (or fixing)

CYRIL: That’s a nice way to talk — what would happen if we all talked like that?

He objects to Mrs Pearson's manner of speech and asks her how she would feel if everyone spoke to her in this manner.

MRS PEARSON: You all do talk like that. If there’s something at home you don’t want to do, you don’t do it. If it’s something at your work, you get the Union to bar it. Now all that’s happened is that I’ve joined the movement.

Mrs Pearson clarifies that they are already speaking to her in an offensive tone. They do what they want while leaving what they don't. They have been given this privilege at home, and it is the situation in the office where if they do not like something, they request that the Union intervene. She mentions that what has now changed is that she has begun to act in the same manner in which she refuses to do what she does not want to do.

CYRIL: [staggered] I don’t get this, Mum. What’s going on?

• Staggered- astonish or deeply shock

He's astounded by his mother's response and tries to figure out what's going on.

MRS PEARSON: [laconic and sinister] Changes.

• Laconic- using very few words
• Sinister- giving the impression that something harmful or evil is happening or will happen

She chooses not to say much, but she implies that things will change from now on.

[Doris enters left. She is in the process of dressing and is now wearing a wrap. She looks pale and red-eyed.]

MRS PEARSON: You look terrible. I wouldn’t wear that face even for Charlie Spence.

Doris appears on the scene with red eyes and a white face. Mrs Pearson inquires as to what is wrong and how she would deal with Charlie Spence with this expression.

DORIS: [moving above the table; angrily] Oh —shut up about Charlie Spence. And anyhow I’m not ready yet—just dressing. And if I do look terrible, it’s your fault—you made me cry.

Doris, all worked up, tells her mother to keep her mouth shut about Charlie Spence. She continues, "I am not yet ready," and the reason for her gloomy expression is that she has been cying after talking with Mrs Pearson.

CYRIL: [curious] Why— what did she do?

Cyril interrupts and questions as to what their mother did.

DORIS: Never you mind.

Doris tells her brother not to get involved.

MRS PEARSON: [rising and preparing to move to the kitchen] Have we any stout left? I can’t remember.

• Stout- a kind of strong, dark beer brewed with roasted malt or barley

Mrs Pearson gets up to go to the kitchen, asking for stout while paying as little attention as possible.

CYRIL: Bottle or two, I think. But you don’t want stout now.

Cyril recalls that there may be one or two bottles left, but tells her in a strange tone that she doesn't need stout after all this mess.

MRS PEARSON: [moving left slowly] I do.

She expresses her preference for stout at this time.

CYRIL: What for?

Cyril asks as to why she requires stout.

MRS PEARSON: [turning at the door] To drink —you clot!

• Clot- a foolish or clumsy person

Mrs Pearson says Cyril is a fool for asking her such a question.

[Mrs Pearson exits right. Instantly Cyril and Doris are in a huddle, close together at left centre, rapidly whispering.]
DORIS: Has she been like that with you, too?

As soon as Mrs Pearson leaves, the siblings gather to discuss the situation behind Mrs Pearson's back. Doris inquires of her brother whether their mother has been acting strangely with him as well.

CYRIL: Yes—no tea ready—couldn’t care less…

Cyril tells Doris that she has been acting similarly to him. She didn't even make him tea.

DORIS: Well, I’m glad it’s both of us. I thought I’d done something wrong.

Doris is relieved to learn that they are both in the same boat because she was afraid she had hurt Mrs Pearson in some way.

CYRIL: So did I. But it’s her of course…

Cyril admits that he had the same thought, but Mrs Pearson is the one who has been acting strangely.

DORIS: She was smoking and playing cards when I came in. I couldn’t believe my eyes.

Doris tells Cyril how surprised she was to see her mother smoking and playing cards after she got home from work.

CYRIL: I asked her if she was feeling off-colour and she said she wasn’t.

Cyril told her that he had even asked her if she was feeling sick, but she replied that she had never felt better.

DORIS: Well, she’s suddenly all different. An’ that’s what made me cry. It wasn’t what she said but the way she said it— an’ the way she looked.

She is astounded by the transformation in herself. She tells Cyril that it wasn't her words that made her cry, but the look in her eyes.

CYRIL: Haven’t noticed that. She looks just the same to me.

He says he hasn't noticed any changes in her appearance.

DORIS: She doesn’t to me. Do you think she could have hit her head or something—y’know — an’ got—what is it?—y’know…

Doris suspects Mrs Pearson may have hit her head somewhere and inflicted injury on herself.

CYRIL: [staggered] Do you mean she’s barmy?

• Barmy- mad; crazy

He is perplexed and asks Doris if she means their mother has gone insane.

DORIS: No, you fathead. Y’know —concussion. She might have.

• Fathead- a stupid person
• Concussion- a violent shock as from a heavy blow

Doris speculates that she may be in shock as a result of a hit to the head.

CYRIL: Sounds far-fetched.

• Far-fetched- unlikely and unconvincing; implausible

Doris, according to Cyril, is not being reasonable.

DORIS: Well, she’s far-fetched, if you ask me. [She suddenly begins to giggle.]

Doris remarks, with a lighthearted laugh, that she is finding her mother to be irrational at the moment.

CYRIL: Now then —what is it?

Cyril asks as to what she means.

DORIS: If she’s going to be like this when Dad comes home… [She giggles again.]

Doris illustrates what will happen if their father witnesses Mrs Pearson acting in this manner.

CYRIL: [beginning to guffaw] I’m staying in for that-two front dress circles for the first house…

• Guffaw- a loud and hearty laugh

Cyril mocks what is about to happen in that case, joking that he is willing to stay at home to witness it.

[Mrs Pearson enters right, carrying a bottle of stout and a half-filled glass. Cyril and Doris try to stop their guffawing and giggling, but they are not quick enough. Mrs Pearson regards them with contempt.]
MRS PEARSON [coldly] You two are always talking about being grown-up —why don’t you both try for once to be your age? [She moves to the settee and sits.]

• Contempt- the feeling that a person or a thing is worthless or beneath consideration
• Settee-  long upholstered seat for more than one person, typically with a back and arms

 

Mrs Pearson enters the room with a stout while the siblings are talking. Mrs Pearson mocks them because they were unable to control their laughter. As she walks towards a settee, she remarks on how both of them regard themselves as mature and asks them to act and be responsible like people their age.

CYRIL: Can’t we laugh now?

Mrs Pearson is asked by Cyril if she has any objections to their laughing.

MRS PEARSON Yes, if it’s funny. Go on, tell me. Make me laugh. I could do with it.

She responds that she has no objections to them laughing at something funny. She requests that they also make her laugh by telling her what they were discussing.

DORIS: Y’know you never understand our jokes, Mum…

Mrs Pearson's ability to understand their jokes is undermined by Doris.

MRS PEARSON: I was yawning at your jokes before you were born, Doris.

Mrs Pearson responds in an equally mean tone, indicating how boring their jokes are most of the time.

DORIS: [almost tearful again] What’s making you talk like this? What have we done?

Doris, who is not used to Mrs Pearson talking to them in this manner, inquires as to the reason for her behaviour. She is about to cry again and wonders what they did to deserve this.

MRS PEARSON: [promptly] Nothing but come in, ask for something, go out again, then come back when there’s nowhere else to go.

She mentions that they haven't done much other than barge in whenever they want and leave whenever they want. In the meantime, all they do is make her work all the time, and when they have nowhere else to go, they return home.

CYRIL: [aggressively] Look —if you won’t get tea ready, then I’ll find something to eat myself…

Cyril becomes angry and hyper while telling Mrs Pearson that if she does not prepare the tea, he will find something to eat on his own.

MRS PEARSON: Why not? Help yourself. [She takes a sip of stout.]

Mrs Pearson tells him to go ahead and get himself something to eat while sipping stout.

CYRIL: [turning on his way to the kitchen] Mind you, I think it’s a bit thick. I’ve been working all day.

He tries to make Mrs Pearson feel obligated to prepare for him as he has been working all day while walking to the kitchen.

DORIS: Same here.

Doris agrees with Cyril.

MRS PEARSON: (calmly) Eight hour day!

Mrs Pearson (actually Mrs Fitzgerald) maintains her cool and tells them that they only work an eight-hour shift per day.

CYRIL: Yes— eight hour day —an’ don’t forget it.

Cyril exaggerates his eight-hour shift.

MRS PEARSON: I’ve done my eight hours.

She informs them that she has finished her eight-hour shift of doing their work and dealing with their tantrums.

CYRIL: That’s different.
DORIS: Of course it is.

They both argue that Mrs Pearson's eight-hour workday pales in comparison to theirs.

MRS PEARSON: [calmly] It was. Now it isn’t. Forty-hour week for all now. Just watch it at the weekend when I have my two days off. [Doris and Cyril exchange alarmed glances. Then they stare at Mrs Pearson who returns their look calmly.]

She warns them, without losing her cool, that everything is about to change from now on. She will only work forty hours per week, just like the rest of them, and tells them to keep an eye out for when she takes her weekend off. Doris and Cyril are shocked, but Mrs Pearson maintains her calm demeanour.

CYRIL: Must grab something to eat. Looks as if I’ll need to keep my strength up. [Cyril exits to the kitchen.]

Cyril leaves the room to go to the kitchen to get something to eat. He believes it is necessary because he will need the strength to face all of this.

DORIS: [moving to the settee; anxiously] Mummy, you don’t mean you’re not going to do anything on Saturday and Sunday?

Doris, still shocked by Mrs Pearson's remarks, confirms whether she was joking or not.

MRS PEARSON: [airily] No, I wouldn’t go that far. I might make a bed or two and do a bit of cooking as a favour. Which means, of course, I’ll have to be asked very nicely and thanked for everything and generally made a fuss of. But any of you forty-hour-a-weekers who expect to be waited on hand and foot on Saturday and Sunday, with no thanks for it, are in for a nasty disappointment. Might go off for the week-end perhaps.

• Nasty- very bad or unpleasant

She explains that if she is pleasantly asked to do so, she may perform a few minor tasks and is duly thanked for doing so. She warns her that if any of her family members who work only 8 hours a day and keep complaining about it expect her to complete all of their tasks, they will be disappointed this time. She even mentions that she might take a vacation.

DORIS: [aghast] Go off for the week-end?

• Aghast- filled with horror or shock

She was even more surprised when Mrs Pearson mentioned that she might take a vacation this weekend.

MRS PEARSON: Why not? I could do with a change. Stuck here day after day, week after week. If I don’t need a change, who does?

Mrs Pearson responds that she, above all, deserves a break because she works 24 hours a day, seven days a week.

DORIS: But where would you go, who would you go with?

Doris is unsure where she would go and with whom she would go.

MRS PEARSON: That’s my business. You don’t ask me where you should go and who you should go with, do you?

Mrs Pearson expresses her belief that Doris has no right to ask her all of this because she never asks Doris the same questions.

DORIS: That’s different.

Doris tells her that what she does is not the same as what she does.

MRS PEARSON: The only difference is that I’m a lot older and better able to look after myself, so it’s you who should do the asking.

Mrs Pearson clarifies that she is older than Doris and in a better position to care for herself, so it makes sense for Doris to seek permission from Mrs Pearson rather than vice versa.

DORIS: Did you fall or hit yourself with something?

Doris finally asks Mrs Pearson if she hit herself and suffered a concussion.

MRS PEARSON: [coldly] No. But I’ll hit you with something, girl, if you don’t stop asking silly questions.

She responds bluntly that she is fine, but if Doris doesn't stop talking, she will undoubtedly hit her with something.

[Doris stares at her open-mouthed, ready to cry.]
DORIS: Oh —this is awful… [She begins to cry, not passionately.]

She expresses how disheartening it is to go through all of this, almost crying, and then bursts into tears.

MRS PEARSON: [coldly] Stop blubbering. You’re not a baby. If you’re old enough to go out with Charlie Spence, you’re old enough to behave properly. Now stop it.

Mrs Pearson asks that Doris stop acting like a child. She states unequivocally that if she considers herself mature enough to date Charlie Spence, she should act appropriately at home as well.

[George Pearson enters left. He is about fifty, fundamentally decent but solemn, self-important, pompous. Preferably he should be a heavy, slow-moving type. He notices Doris’s tears.]
GEORGE: Hello—what’s this? Can’t be anything to cry about.

• Solemn- formal and dignified; characterized by deep sincerity
• Pompous- affectedly grand, solemn, or self-important

Mrs Pearson's husband, George Pearson, walks in while they are talking. He is a man in his fifties who exudes deep sincerity while also being assertive. As one might expect, he must be a healthy man who moves slowly. As he walks in, he notices Doris crying. He asks her what's the matter, confident that it won't be worth crying over.

DORIS: [through sobs] You’ll see. [Doris runs out left with a sob or two on the way. George stares after her a moment, then looks at Mrs Pearson.]

Doris tells her father to wait and observe while she sobs and left the scene.

GEORGE: Did she say ‘You’ll see’…?

George Pearson is shocked by how fast she ran and what she said.

MRS PEARSON: Yes.

Mrs Pearson provides an answer to George's rhetorical question.

GEORGE: What did she mean?

He's still confused about what's going on.

MRS PEARSON: Better ask her.

Mrs Pearson suggests he ask Doris what she meant.

[George looks slowly again at the door then at Mrs Pearson. Then he notices the stout that Mrs Pearson raises for another sip. His eyes almost bulge.]
GEORGE: Stout?

George is even more surprised as Mrs Pearson raises her glass to sip her stout.

MRS PEARSON: Yes.

Mrs Pearson tells him that he was correct.

GEORGE: [amazed] What are you drinking stout for?

Still astounded, he inquires as to the reason for her drinking.

MRS PEARSON: Because I fancied some.

She simply responds, keeping her cool, by saying that she is drinking it because she wants to.

GEORGE: At this time of day?

He is shocked by the sight of Mrs Pearson drinking during the day.

MRS PEARSON: Yes—what’s wrong with it at this time of day?

She counters with a question about what the problem is with drinking at this time of day.

GEORGE: [bewildered] Nothing, I suppose, Annie — but I’ve never seen you do it before…

• Bewildered- perplexed and confused; very puzzled

He explains that he is shocked because Mrs Pearson had never been seen day drinking before.

MRS PEARSON: Well, you’re seeing me now.

She tells him there's nothing to be surprised about. He hasn't seen her do it before, but he is seeing her do it now.

GEORGE: [with heavy distaste] Yes, an’ I don’t like it. It doesn’t look right. I’m surprised at you.

He tells Mrs Pearson, with contempt, that he doesn't like the idea of her drinking at this hour. It completely blew his mind.

MRS PEARSON: Well, that ought to be a nice change for you.

In response to his reaction, she states that it could be a pleasant change for him.

GEORGE: What do you mean?

He didn't understand what she was saying.

MRS PEARSON: It must be some time since you were surprised at me, George.

She explains that she hasn't dazzled him in a long time.

GEORGE: I don’t like surprises—I’m all for a steady going on —you ought to know that by this time. By the way, I forgot to tell you this morning I wouldn’t want any tea. Special snooker match night at the club tonight— an’ a bit of supper going. So no tea.

• Snooker- a game played with cues on a billiard table in which the players use a cue ball (white) to pocket the other balls (fifteen red and six coloured) in a set order

He tells her how he dislikes change and surprises, which Mrs Pearson should be aware of by now. He then shifts the subject by informing Mrs Pearson that he forgot to inform her about the Special snooker match and supper. In addition, he won't require any tea that afternoon.

MRS PEARSON: That’s all right. There isn’t any.

She informs him that no tea has been prepared, so it is fine even if he forgot to convey.

GEORGE: [astonished] You mean you didn’t get any ready?

He's shocked by her response and asks Mrs Pearson what she just told him.

MRS PEARSON: Yes. And a good thing, too, as it’s turned out.

Mrs Pearson responds that everything is fine because he didn't need any tea.

GEORGE: [aggrieved] That’s all very well, but suppose I’d wanted some?

He asks Mrs Pearson what he should do if he wants some.

MRS PEARSON: My goodness! Listen to the man! Annoyed because I don’t get a tea for him that he doesn’t even want. Ever tried that at the club?

Mrs Pearson is baffled that George Pearson is upset because the tea he did not want is not made. She suggests that he try this out at the club some time.

GEORGE: Tried what at the club?

He's not sure what Mrs Pearson wants him to try at the club.

MRS PEARSON: Going up to the bar and telling ’em you don’t want a glass of beer but you’re annoyed because they haven’t already poured it out. Try that on them and see what you get.

She describes the tea situation in the context of the club, where he goes to the bar to tell them he doesn't want a beer and then gets upset because they haven't already poured some for him. She suggests that he observe their reaction.

GEORGE: I don’t know what you’re talking about.

He claims he didn't understand what Mrs Pearson just said.

MRS PEARSON: They’d laugh at you even more than they do now.

Mrs Pearson says that the members of the club would mock him even more than they did.

GEORGE: [indignantly] Laugh at me? They don’t laugh at me.

• Indignantly- in a manner indicating anger or annoyance at something perceived as unfair.

When Mrs Pearson says that, he becomes irritated and tells her that they don't make fun of him.

MRS PEARSON: Of course they do. You ought to have found that out by this time. Anybody else would have done. You’re one of their standing jokes. Famous. They call you Pompy-ompy Pearson because they think you’re so slow and pompous.

• Pompous- self-important or overbearing

Mrs Pearson tells him he should have realised this by now. They would have known by now if someone else had been in his place. She also tells him that he is famously mocked at the club, and they refer to him as "Pompy-ompy Pearson" because they believe he is self-absorbed and overbearing.

GEORGE: [horrified] Never!

George is shocked by her words and denies them.

MRS PEARSON: It’s always beaten me why you should want to spend so much time at a place where they’re always laughing at you behind your back and calling you names. Leaving your wife at home, night after night. Instead of going out with her, who doesn’t make you look a fool…

Mrs Pearson expresses how painful it has been for her to see her husband leave her and wish to move to a place where people make fun of him behind his back. She goes on to say that he does it every night rather than going out with Mrs Pearson, who doesn't make him look like a fool.

[Cyril enters right, with a glass of milk in one hand and a thick slice of cake in the other. George, almost dazed, turns to him appealingly.]

Cyril walks into the room, a glass of milk in one hand and a slice of cake in the other. George is confused and turns to look at Cyril for assistance.

GEORGE: Here, Cyril, you’ve been with me to the club once or twice. They don’t laugh at me and call me Pompy-ompy Pearson, do they? [Cyril, embarrassed, hesitates.] [Angrily] Go on —tell me. Do they?

He asks Cyril angrily if he was aware of what was going on in the club, leaving Cyril embarrassed and unwilling to answer.

CYRIL: [embarrassed] Well —yes, Dad, I’m afraid they do. [George slowly looks from one to the other, staggered.]

• Staggered- astonish or deeply shock

He admitted to George, though somewhat uncomfortably, that they do call him names.

GEORGE: [slowly] Well —I’ll be—damned! [George exits left, slowly, almost as if somebody had hit him over the head. Cyril, after watching him go, turns indignantly to Mrs Pearson.]

George slowly curses himself, saying that if they call him names at the club, he will go to hell. He walks away from the scene in a state of shock and despair, as if he's been hit on the head. Cyril sees him leave and turns to talk with Mrs Pearson.

CYRIL: Now you shouldn’t have told him that, Mum. That’s not fair. You’ve hurt his feelings. Mine, too.

Cyril expresses his point of view, stating that Mrs Pearson's treatment of his father was unkind. She not only hurt his feelings, but also those of Cyril.

MRS PEARSON: Sometimes it does people good to have their feelings hurt. The truth oughtn’t to hurt anybody for long. If your father didn’t go to the club so often, perhaps they’d stop laughing at him.

She then imparts some wisdom, telling him that the truth only hurts for a short time and that it is okay to have one's feelings hurt from time to time. She goes on to say that if his father didn't go to the club every other day, this would not have happened.

CYRIL: [gloomily] I doubt it.

He doesn't believe anything Mrs Pearson says right now.

MRS PEARSON: [severely] Possibly you do, but what I doubt is whether your opinion’s worth having. What do you know? Nothing. You spend too much time and good money at greyhound races and dirt tracks and ice shows…

Mrs Pearson emphasises that she did not seek Cyril's opinion on the matter. She mentions that he, too, lacks the necessary knowledge to discuss these topics because all he knows is spending time and money on greyhound races and ice shows.

CYRIL: [sulkily] Well, what if I do? I’ve got to enjoy myself somehow, haven’t I?

• Sulkily- showing a disagreeable mood

He mentions that he has no objections to doing so if it brings him joy.

MRS PEARSON: I wouldn’t mind so much if you were really enjoying yourself. But are you? And where’s it getting you? [There is a sharp hurried knocking heard off left.]

Mrs Pearson informs him that she has no objections to him doing all of these things if they bring him joy. She asks him if he is actually having the fun he claims to be having, and if it is taking him anywhere good. Someone unexpectedly knocks on the door.

CYRIL: Might be for me. I’ll see. [Cyril hurries out left. In a moment he re-enters, closing the door behind him.] It’s that silly old bag from next door —Mrs Fitzgerald. You don’t want her here, do you?

Cyril goes to check the door, thinking someone has come to see him, and returns after a while to tell Mrs Pearson that Mrs Fitzgerald has come to see her. He doesn't hold her in high regard and asks Mrs Pearson if she really wants to see her.

MRS PEARSON: [sharply] Certainly I do. Ask her in. And don’t call her a silly old bag either. She’s a very nice woman, with a lot more sense than you’ll ever have. [Cyril exits left. Mrs Pearson finishes her stout, smacking her lips. Cyril re-enters left, ushering in Mrs Fitzgerald, who hesitates in the doorway.] Come in, come in, Mrs Fitzgerald.

• Ushering- showing or guide someone somewhere

She clearly responds that she does want to see Mrs Fitzgerald and tells him to treat her with respect because she is a delightful woman who speaks more sense than he does. Mrs Pearson finishes her stout and greets Cyril as she leads Mrs Fitzgerald to Mrs Pearson.

MRS FITZGERALD: [moving to left centre; anxiously] I — just wondered —if everything’s— all right…

She enters hesitantly and inquires about the status of things.

CYRIL: [sulkily] No, it isn’t.

Cyril immediately disagrees.

MRS PEARSON: [sharply] Of course it is. You be quiet.

In an attempt to control the situation, Mrs Pearson tells Mrs Fitzgerald (who is actually Mrs Pearson) that everything is fine and instructs Cyril not to speak.

CYRIL: [indignantly and loudly] Why should I be quiet?

• Indignantly- in a manner indicating anger or annoyance at something perceived as unfair

Given Mrs Pearson's unfairness, he bursts out and asks her why he is not allowed to speak.

MRS PEARSON: [shouting] Because I tell you to—you silly, spoilt, young piecan.

• Piecan- referring a foolish person

Mrs Pearson shouts at Cyril and tells him to do what she says.

MRS FITZGERALD: [protesting nervously] Oh —no— surely…

Mrs Fitzgerald attempts to intervene.

MRS PEARSON: [severely] Now, Mrs Fitzgerald, just let me manage my family in my own way —please!

Mrs Pearson responds immediately and advises Mrs Fitzgerald to stay out of her personal and family matters.

MRS FITZGERALD: Yes—but Cyril…

She tries to bring up Cyril, but is interrupted once more, this time by Cyril.

CYRIL: [sulky and glowering] Mr Cyril Pearson to you, please, Mrs Fitzgerald. [Cyril stalks off into the kitchen.]

MRS FITZGERALD: [moving to the settee; whispering] Oh — dear —what’s happening?

• Glowering- have an angry look on one’s face

Mrs Fitzgerald becomes concerned and takes a seat on the settee. Then she expresses her concerns.

MRS PEARSON: [calmly] Nothing much. Just putting ‘em in their places, that’s all. Doing what you ought to have done long since.

Mrs Pearson responds that what she is doing is long overdue. She's just trying to get them to behave nicely.

MRS FITZGERALD: Is George home? [She sits beside Mrs Pearson on the settee.]

Mrs Fitzgerald approaches Mrs Pearson and asks if George is home.

MRS PEARSON: Yes. I’ve been telling him what they think of him at the club.

Mrs Pearson confirms and tells her how she told him about what they said about him at the club.

MRS FITZGERALD: Well, they think a lot of him, don’t they?

Mrs Fitzgerald, unaware of the truth and naturally innocent, believes they thought highly of him.

MRS PEARSON: No, they don’t. And now he knows it.

Mrs Pearson responds that Mrs Fitzgerald is mistaken, and that George now knows the truth as well.

MRS FITZGERALD: [nervously] Oh —dear —I wish you hadn’t, Mrs Fitzgerald…

Mrs Fitzgerald, being the nice person that she is, did not want George's feelings to be hurt and expresses regret that Mrs Pearson did this.

MRS PEARSON: Nonsense! Doing ’em all a world of good. And they’ll be eating out of your hand soon— you’ll see…

• Eating out of your hand- be submissive

Mrs Pearson tells her that she has done her good and that the results will be visible soon. Everyone will begin to respect and obey her.

MRS FITZGERALD: I don’t think I want them eating out of my hand…

Mrs Fitzgerald tells Mrs Pearson that she does not want to be manipulative or domineering, and that she does not want them to be submissive.

MRS PEARSON: [impatiently] Well, whatever you want, they’ll be doing it — all three of ’em. Mark my words, Mrs Pearson.

She responds, somewhat irritably, that this is happening whether she wants it to or not.

[George enters left glumly. He is unpleasantly surprised when he sees the visitor. He moves to the armchair left, sits down heavily and glumly lights his pipe. Then he looks from Mrs Pearson to Mrs Fitzgerald, who is regarding him anxiously.]

George enters the room with a sad expression on his face. He is displeased to see Mrs Fitzgerald. He sits in the armchair, lights his pipe, and smokes. He looks at the two women, and Mrs Fitzgerald looks at him with interest.

GEORGE: Just looked in for a minute, I suppose, Mrs Fitzgerald?

• Glumly- moody or unsociable attitude

George arrives on the scene in a terrible mood. He is also shocked by the presence of Mrs Fitzgerald in his home. While lighting his pipe, he notices Mrs Fitzgerald, who is looking at him awkwardly. He inquires, perplexed, if she is Mrs Fitzgerald.

MRS FITZGERALD: [who doesn’t know what she is saying] Well —yes—I suppose so, George.

Mrs Fitzgerald, unsure what to say, responds awkwardly while greeting him by his name.

GEORGE: [aghast] George!

He is shocked when he hears Mrs Fitzgerald address him by name.

MRS FITZGERALD: [nervously] Oh —I’m sorry…

She becomes nervous and apologises for calling him by his first name.

MRS PEARSON: [impatiently] What does it matter? Your name’s George, isn’t it? Who d’you think you are— Duke of Edinburgh?

Mrs Pearson quickly intervenes and tells George that it doesn't matter if she calls him by his name. He is not some Duke of Edinburgh who is not supposed to be addressed by his given name and does not deserve the honour.

GEORGE: [angrily] What’s he got to do with it? Just tell me that. And isn’t it bad enough without her calling me George? No tea. Pompy-ompy Pearson. And poor Doris has been crying her eyes out upstairs—yes, crying her eyes out.

George loses her calm and points out that bringing in the Duke of Edinburgh in the middle of this conversation is ridiculous. He goes on to say that Mrs Fitzgerald calling him by his name is pointless because the situation is already terrible. There is no tea available, and he is being yelled at at the club. Not to mention Doris, who is constantly crying.

MRS FITZGERALD: [wailing] Oh— dear — I ought to have known…

Mrs Fitzgerald (actually Mrs Pearson) interrupts immediately and expresses concern for Mrs Pearson's family. When she saw her family in distress, the real Mrs Pearson forgot she was in the body of Mrs Fitzgerald. As a result, she speaks up.

GEORGE: [staring at her, annoyed] You ought to have known! Why ought you to have known? Nothing to do with you, Mrs Fitzgerald. Look —we’re at sixes and sevens here just now —so perhaps you’ll excuse us…

• At sixes and sevens- in a state of total confusion and disarray

George is now irritated with Mrs Fitzgerald for being overly concerned and acting as if it is her own family's problem. He believes she is trying to interfere in his family matters. He tells her to leave their house and let them deal with their problems on their own.

MRS PEARSON: [before Mrs Fitzgerald can reply] I won’t excuse you, George Pearson. Next time a friend and neighbour comes to see me, just say something when you see her—Good evening or How d’you do? or something— an’ don’t just march in an’ sit down without a word. It’s bad manners…

Mrs Pearson steps in and criticises George for being so rude and disrespectful. She tells him to be more polite the next time an acquaintance pays her a visit instead of barging in and sitting without greeting them.

MRS FITZGERALD: [nervously] No—it’s all right…

Mrs Fitzgerald is awkward in this situation and tells Mrs Pearson that she doesn't mind George's behaviour.

MRS PEARSON: No, it isn’t all right. We’ll have some decent manners in this house—or I’ll know the reason why. [glaring at George] Well?

Mrs Pearson declares that this is not how things will be in her home, and that her family must be disciplined and respectful.

GEORGE: [intimidated] Well, what!

George is terrified and acts as if he doesn't understand what's going on. He asks that she repeat what she said.

MRS PEARSON: [taunting him] Why don’t you get off to your club? Special night tonight, isn’t it? They’ll be waiting for you— wanting to have a good laugh. Go on then. Don’t disappoint ’em.

Mrs Pearson responds in a mocking tone, asking George to the club for that special night. She advises him to hurry because his friends will be waiting for him. He must not let them down.

GEORGE: [bitterly] That’s right. Make me look silly in front of her now! Go on —don’t mind me. Sixes and sevens! Poor Doris been crying her eyes out! Getting the neighbours in to see the fun! [suddenly losing his temper, glaring at Mrs Pearson, and shouting] All right— let her hear it. What’s the matter with you? Have you gone barmy—or what?

• Barmy- mad; crazy

Mrs Pearson is right, as per George. While laughing at him in front of the neighbours, he asks her to proceed and not mind his presence. During this process, he loses his temper and begins shouting about Doris crying. Then he asks as to what was wrong with her, if she had gone insane.

MRS PEARSON: [jumping up; savagely] If you shout at me again like that, George Pearson, I’ll slap your big, fat, silly face…

Mrs Pearson leaps to her feet and reacts immediately. She threatens to slap his big, fat face if he ever uses this tone and voice with her again.

MRS FITZGERALD: [moaning] Oh —no—no—no—please, Mrs Fitzgerald… [Mrs Pearson sits.]

Mrs Fitzgerald tries to calm down Mrs Pearson and accidentally calls her 'Mrs Fitzgerald' in the process. Mrs Pearson finally takes a seat.

GEORGE: [staring at her, bewildered] Either I’m off my chump or you two are. How d’you mean — “No, no— please, Mrs Fitzgerald”? Look — you’re Mrs Fitzgerald. So why are you telling yourself to stop when you’re not doing anything? Tell her to stop —then there’d be some sense in it. [Staring at Mrs Pearson] I think you must be tiddly.

• Tiddly- slightly drunk

George is taken aback by this and wonders if it is him who is out of his mind or Mrs Fitzgerald and Mrs Pearson, who have been acting strangely. He doesn't understand why she addressed her as Mrs Fitzgerald, rather than by her given name. Mistakes like that are uncommon. He thinks it's strange that she's telling herself to stop doing something she shouldn't be doing in the first place. He believes it would make more sense if she would stop Mrs Pearson.

MRS PEARSON: [starting up; savagely] Say that again, George Pearson.

Mrs Pearson becomes enraged once more and challenges George to repeat his words.

GEORGE: [intimidated] All right— all right—all right …

George is frightened but accepts.

[Doris enters left slowly, looking miserable. She is still wearing the wrap. Mrs Pearson sits on the settee.]

Doris makes a slow entrance from the left side. She appears to be depressed. She's got the wrap on. Mrs. Pearson has taken a seat on the settee.

MRS FITZGERALD: Hello— Doris dear!

Mrs Fitzgerald greets Doris politely as she enters with a pale face and a different expression than before.

DORIS: [miserably] Hello— Mrs Fitzgerald!

Even though she is in a bad mood, she greets her back.

MRS FITZGERALD: I thought you were going out with Charlie Spence tonight.

Mrs Fitzgerald, who has forgotten who she is, asks Doris about her plan with Charlie Spence.

DORIS: [annoyed] What’s that to do with you?

Doris, who is already irritated, responds angrily and asks Mrs Fitzgerald why she is so concerned about her plans.

MRS PEARSON: [sharply] Stop that!

Mrs Pearson interrupts and stops Doris from behaving in that manner in order to continue what she has been doing all day.

MRS FITZGERALD: [nervously] No—its all right…

Mrs Fitzgerald tells her that Doris' behaviour is acceptable.

MRS PEARSON: [severely] It isn’t all right. I won’t have a daughter of mine talking to anybody like that. Now answer Mrs Fitzgerald properly, Doris— or go upstairs again… [Doris looks wonderingly at her father.]

Mrs Pearson tells Mrs Fitzgerald that Doris' behaviour will not be tolerated in her home and instructs her to properly respond to Mrs Fitzgerald. Doris is shocked by her response and looks at her father in disbelief.

GEORGE: [in despair] Don’t look at me. I give it up. I just give it up.

George, having given up hope on Mrs Pearson, tells Doris that he, too, cannot make things better. He has given up on dealing with it and believes it has gotten out of his hands.

MRS PEARSON: [fiercely] Well? Answer her.

Mrs Pearson, stern on her stance, orders Doris to properly respond to Mrs Fitzgerald.

DORIS: [sulkily] I was going out with Charlie Spence tonight— but now I’ve called it off…

Doris succumbs and replies to Mrs Fitzgerald, telling her that she has cancelled her plans for the night with Charlie Spence.

MRS FITZGERALD: Oh —what a pity, dear! Why have you?

Mrs Fitzgerald becomes concerned and asks as to the reason for the cancellation.

DORIS: [with a flash of temper] Because —if you must know —my mother’s been going on at me making me feel miserable —an’ saying he’s got buck-teeth and is half-witted…

Doris, enraged once more, begins telling Mrs Fitzgerald about how her mother, Mrs Pearson, had been acting all day. Mrs Pearson, she says, had been making her feel bad about Charlie by making comments about his appearance and intelligence.

MRS FITZGERALD: [rather bolder; to Mrs Pearson] Oh — you shouldn’t have said that…

Mrs Fitzgerald becomes a little more daring when she decides to take a stand against Mrs Pearson.

MRS PEARSON: [sharply] Mrs Fitzgerald, I’ll manage my family—you manage yours.

Mrs Pearson tells Mrs Fitzgerald to stay out of her family's business and focus on her own.

GEORGE: [grimly] Ticking her off now, are you, Annie?

George storms in and asks Mrs Pearson if she will act in a manner with Mrs Fitzgerald.

MRS PEARSON: [even more grimly] They’re waiting for you at the club, George, don’t forget. And don’t you start crying again, Doris…

Mrs Pearson responds quickly to George, telling him that his friends must be waiting for him at the club. Doris is warned not to cry again.

MRS FITZGERALD: [getting up; with sudden decision] That’s enough —quite enough. [George and Doris stare at her bewildered.]
[to George and Doris] Now listen, you two. I want to have a private little talk with Mrs Fitz —[she corrects herself hastily] with Mrs Pearson, so I’ll be obliged if you’ll leave us alone for a few minutes. I’ll let you know when we’ve finished. Go on, please. I promise you that you won’t regret it. There’s something here that only I can deal with.

Mrs Fitzgerald finally decides to take a stand and tells George and Doris to leave them alone so they can talk privately; in the process, she was about to call her incorrectly again, but she manages the situation. She assures them that she is the only one who can handle the situation and that it would be in their best interests to give both of them some alone time.

GEORGE: [rising] I’m glad somebody can—’cos I can’t. Come on, Doris. [George and Doris exit left. As they go Mrs Fitzgerald moves to left of the small table and sits. She eagerly beckons Mrs Pearson to do the same thing.]

• Beckons- making a gesture with the hand, arm or head to encourage or instruct someone to approach or follow

George expresses relief that at least someone can handle the situation because he knows he can't. They both leave the scene, and the real Mrs Pearson walks over to a table, expecting Mrs Fitzgerald to do the same.

MRS FITZGERALD: Mrs Fitzgerald, we must change back now— we really must…

She tells Mrs Pearson that it is time for them to revert to their original positions.

MRS PEARSON: [rising] Why?

Mrs. Pearson inquires as to why they should reverse their positions.

MRS FITZGERALD: Because this has gone far enough. I can see they’re all miserable— and I can’t bear it…

She tells Mrs Pearson that things have gone far beyond her wildest imaginings. She knows her family is in danger, and she can't stand it. As a result, she wishes for them to revert to their original selves.

MRS PEARSON: A bit more of the same would do ‘em good. Making a great difference already… [She moves to right of the table and sits.]

As she moves to the other side of the table, she tells Mrs Fitzgerald that it would be better if they could taste the medicine for a little longer. She tells her that while much progress has already been made, a little more effort would go a long way.

MRS FITZGERALD: No, I can’t stand any more of it—I really can’t. We must change back. Hurry up, please, Mrs Fitzgerald.

She holds her point of view and wishes to return to it. She instructs her to move quickly.

MRS PEARSON: Well —if you insist…

MRS FITZGERALD: Yes—I do—please— please. [She stretches her hands across the table eagerly. Mrs Pearson takes them.]

Mrs Fitzgerald (actually Mrs Pearson) is eager to undo the trick, so she extends her arm to hold hands with Mrs Pearson. Mrs Pearson extends her hands forward as well.

MRS PEARSON: Quiet now. Relax. [Mrs Pearson and Mrs Fitzgerald stare at each other. Muttering; exactly as before. Arshtatta dum —arshtatta lam — arshtatta lamdumbona… They carry out the same action as before, going lax and then coming to life. But this time, of course, they become their proper personalities.]

Mrs Pearson requests that Mrs Fitzgerald remain silent for a few moments while she performs the magic trick. They go through the same procedure, and the real Mrs Fitzgerald says the same words. The transition is now complete and successful, as it was before, with the only difference being that they have returned to their natural bodies. They are now both in their own bodies.

MRS FITZGERALD: Ah well —I enjoyed that.

Mrs Fitzgerald, who got to play Mrs Pearson, says she had a good time during the process.

MRS PEARSON: I didn’t.

Mrs Pearson, who had to endure the pain and anguish of witnessing her family's misbehaviour, clearly did not have a good time.

MRS FITZGERALD: Well, you ought to have done. Now —listen, Mrs Pearson. Don’t go soft on ’em again, else it’ll all have been wasted…

Mrs Fitzgerald warns Mrs Pearson not to be too easy on them again, or all her efforts will be for useless.

MRS PEARSON: I’ll try not to, Mrs Fitzgerald.

She responds that she will give it her all.

MRS FITZGERALD: They’ve not had as long as I’d like to have given ’em — another hour or two’s rough treatment might have made it certain…

She says that the time she had available was insufficient because an hour and a half of the same treatment would leave a lasting impression.

MRS PEARSON: I’m sure they’ll do better now — though I don’t know how I’m going to explain…

Mrs Pearson informs her that she is confident that something will change. The only thing she is unsure of is how she will clarify things.

MRS FITZGERALD: [severely] Don’t you start any explaining or apologising—or you’re done for.

She warns her not to keep apologising for the treatment because it will undo all of her hard work.

MRS PEARSON: [with spirit] It’s all right for you, Mrs Fitzgerald. After all, they aren’t your husband and children…

Mrs Pearson intervenes, stating that Mrs Fitzgerald is free to say whatever she wants because this isn't her family.

MRS FITZGERALD: [impressively] Now you listen to me. You admitted yourself you were spoiling ’em — and they didn’t appreciate you. Any apologies—any explanations—an’ you’ll be straight back where you were. I’m warning you, dear. Just give ’em a look —a tone of voice—now an’ again, to suggest you might be tough with ’em if you wanted to be—an’ it ought to work. Anyhow, we can test it.

Mrs Fitzgerald informs her that Mrs Pearson accepted that they are spoiled brats who don't appreciate her. Mrs Pearson even expressed a desire for things to improve. As a result, Mrs Fitzgerald emphasises once more that any apology would return them to being rude to her. She even goes so far as to say that being dominant once in a while will keep them on track. Mrs Pearson, she says, can even put this to the test.

MRS PEARSON: How?

Mrs Pearson asks of Mrs Fitzgerald how they can put whatever she says to the test.

MRS FITZGERALD: Well, what is it you’d like ’em to do that they don’t do? Stop at home for once?

Mrs Fitzgerald asks her to name one thing she is hesitant to do, but Mrs Pearson insists on it. Staying at home, for example, once in a while.

MRS PEARSON: Yes—and give me a hand with supper…

She also requests that they assist her in preparing the evening meal.

MRS FITZGERALD: Anything you’d like ’em to do —that you enjoy whether they do or not?

She then asks if there is anything she enjoys doing, regardless of whether they enjoy doing it or not.

MRS PEARSON: [hesitating] Well—yes. I—like a nice game of rummy —but, of course, I hardly ever have one—except at Christmas…

• Rummy- a card game

Mrs Pearson hesitates at first, but then tells Mrs Fitzgerald that she enjoys playing rummy, but that she only gets to do so during the Christmas.

 MRS FITZGERALD: [getting up] That’ll do then. [She moves towards the door left then turns] But remember — keep firm — or you’ve had it. [She opens the door. Calling] Hoy! You can come in now. [Coming away from the door, and moving right slightly. Quietly] But remember —remember —a firm hand. [George, Doris and Cyril file in through the doorway, looking apprehensively at Mrs Pearson.] I’m just off. To let you enjoy yourself [The family looks anxiously at Mrs Pearson, who smiles. Much relieved, they smile back at her.]

As she walks towards the door, she emphasises the importance of Mrs Pearson being a little strict. Mrs Pearson then invites George, Cyril, and Doris inside before leaving. Mrs Pearson smiles at her family, who all return her smile.

DORIS: [anxiously] Yes, Mother?

Doris is the first to speak up, and she is a little nervous.

MRS PEARSON: [smiling] Seeing that you don’t want to go out, I tell you what I thought we’d do.

She says, still smiling, that she knows exactly what they should do because they aren't going out.

MRS FITZGERALD: [giving a final warning] Remember!

Mrs Fitzgerald reminds Mrs Pearson once more as she walks away!

MRS PEARSON: [nodding, then looking sharply at the family] No objections, I hope?

Mrs Pearson nods, attempting to demonstrate that she remembers what Mrs Fitzgerald has told her. She then asks if her family has any objections.

GEORGE: [humbly] No, Mother —whatever you say…

He says politely that they have no objections and are willing to do whatever she says.

MRS PEARSON: [smiling] I thought we’d have a nice family game of rummy —and then you children could get the supper ready while I have a talk with your father…

She politely tells them that she wishes to play rummy with them and that she would like the children to assist her in cooking supper so that she can talk with George.

GEORGE: [firmly] Suits me. [He looks challengingly at the children.] What about you two?

George agrees, but with a testy look at his children, he asks about their thoughts.

CYRIL: [hastily] Yes— that’s all right.

• Hastily- with excessive speed or urgency; speedily

Cyril agrees right away.

DORIS: [hesitating] Well —I…

Doris pauses for a moment.

MRS PEARSON: [sharply] What? Speak up!

Mrs Pearson speaks up and asks Doris boldly.

DORIS: [hastily] Oh —I think it would be lovely…

Doris also agrees immediately.

MRS PEARSON: [smiling] Good-bye, Mrs Fitzgerald. Come again soon.

Mrs Pearson smiles as she pays Mrs Fitzgerald goodbye.

MRS FITZGERALD: Yes, dear. ’Night all —have a nice time.

[Mrs Fitzgerald exits left and the family cluster round Mother as the curtain falls.

As Mrs Fitzgerald walks out, the family gathers around the lady of the house, and the curtain falls.

About the Author

John Boynton Priestley, OM (13 September 1894 – 14 August 1984) was a novelist, playwright, screenwriter, broadcaster, and social commentator from England. His Yorkshire upbringing is reflected in much of his fiction, most notably in The Good Companions (1929), which launched his career.