"In walked Jimmy"; an American comedy of optimism in four acts

Front matter

COPYRIGHT DEPOSm

"In Walked Jimmy"

BY

ACT IV: Same scene as in Act Three. Nine days later. "And r

Locality — A manufacturing town of about 4,000 population, near Rochester, New York.

Time — The present.

Jimmy is the symbol of right thinking in the person of a clever young business man who combines practicality with humanitarianism. There is nothing of the "high-brow" about Jimmy. He has learned that a smile goes further than anything else in the world — that man's greatest power is Optimism ! Spirituality blended with common sense is the keynote to Jimmy's character. He is mentally alert, lovable, heroic, intensely magnetic ; at times, dashingly romantic ; then again, scientifically business-like, but always acting in the vein of refined comedy. He makes his entrance thrilling because he invests himself with a mysteriousness which always hovers about him, — until the final curtain.

John : About 65 — ^gray-haired, wrinkled, emaciated. The daily grind of business has deafened him to the cry of the spiritual, the call of the Divine, that prompts man to love, to laugh, to sing. Yet withal, he is a type of man with whom you sympathize and never censure. At opening of play, his eyes hold an almost vacant stare and his hands twitch nervously. As play progresses, he changes to a man who has found a new thing in life — the joy that emanates from the Well-spring of Right Thinking. His reverence for Jimmy must be brought out strong. Shabby clothes in Acts I and II. Thereafter, well-clothed and groomed.

HiGGiNs: Large man, buxom, loud-mouthed, red-faced, hard, harsh. The type of man^who accumulates money by "bleeding others." Typical dress of the rich man of the village. About 50 years of age.

Bartlett: Refined city man; progressive. Tall, stoutish.

Graham: Small weazened-up man with a thin, little voice. Cityfied, but not over-confident.

Bobby: Chap of 22. Slouchy of walk, manners and appearance. As he brightens mentally, he brushes up physically. A real man in Acts III and IV; well-groomed, prosperous.

Arnold: About 25. Tall, over-confident type of creature— a case of exaggerated ego; overdressed; copies the style of the city chaps; is short on common sense and long on lovemaking.

Kitty : Sweet, lovable of disposition, but showing firmness of character. She is the kind of girl who, never having been called upon to prove to herself her great worth to the world, does not realize her own mental and spiritual resources. There must be every evidence, in acting the role, of strength and self-reliance. In first and second acts, a plain dress Is worn. Thereafter, a suit — up-to-date! Kitty is about 24. Miss Rogers : Tall, angular features, pert expression ; sharp thoughts; jerky diction. Hair, raven black and combed, slick back. Spectacles worn down on nose. Half of the time she looks over her spectacles, not through them, particu-

"IN WALKED JIMMY"

larly when she quotes, "My Mother's Sister

used to say " Not until play is half over

does she "warm up" to life and its beauties. Part should be eccentrically dressed. In Act I — a loud gingham apron over a black dress. In Act II, a small hat which is perched at a dangerous angle and a small, tight-fitting, out-ofdate coat add to the incongruity of Miss Rogers' appearance. In Act III, she wears the same small hat, and an odd, laughable suit that seems to accentuate her eccentricities. Miss Rogers is about 42 years old. This part should be played as strong character comedy.

Act I

One day in April. 8.30 A.M. The Cinderella Soft Sole (Baby Shoe) Factory — office, stock room and shipping room.

Scene: One large room. Down r., against wall, stands a high bookkeeper's desk with shelves beneath and above it. High revolving chairs beside desk. To R. of desk is a typewriter on small table. Chair beside it. A row of old musty books is on shelf below desk. On desk is an old dusting brush, r.c, window opening on a fire-escape. Window, very dirty, looks out upon street. At back, on r., a large door which slides to r. When door is open, several girls can be seen working at machines, power propelled. Whirr of machinery is always heard when door slides to r. At back on l. is a small, square room shelved on three sides. Shelves extend to ceiling and hold a small stock of shoes in boxes, ready for shipping. Shelves are not quite full. Down c. stands a flat-top desk with a chair behind if. Desk has a few business accessories on it, besides a telephone and a small bell, which when tapped sounds like a telephone ringing. A long table extends from stock room, up L., to down r. Table is made of cheapest 7.

hoards, unpainted. On it are various boxes, piled high in groups, ready to he wrapped up and sent away. Each group of boxes is already tied with string and is tagged with bright red tag, eight inches long. Door down l. is entrance to the factory. Along well at l. stand cartons (pasteboard cases) in which shoes are shipped. Go-carts of trays of shoes ready to be put into boxes, stand beside table. Shoes are of all colors and each shoe is a baby shoe. Chairs stand here and there around room. One or two chairs hold a shipment. Each box used in factory is sized four by seven inches. Scraps of leather on floor. The factory has seen better days. For some time, its output has been gradually decreasing until now it is in its last struggling stage. There is every evidence that goods are being manufactured but the impression conveyed is they are not being manufactured right.

CURTAIN RISES

Andy. (An old negro man-of-all-work is cleaning up room; does practical work; rubs desk; makes mark on it; tries to wipe off the water spot. He registers consternation. Lightning — thunder) Mr. Trellavan should hev real wood. Den dat water wouldn't leave no mark, I reckon. (Works toward window; goes about his work, dusting off boxes, etc., in a very superficial manner)

('Bobby Day, a chap of twenty-two, enters l. j

Bobby. (Has a worn look on his face; never smiles; lacks initiation; poorly clothed) Morning, Andy 1

Andy. Goin' to rain ag'in, is it ?

Bobby. Looks like it, yes! (Takes off his coat; hangs it on peg at end of table; takes from peg at other end of table a much older coat; shakes it out, puts coat on; begins to work, wrapping up groups of boxes on shipping table. Makes grouchy face; works with languor)

Andy. Fo' de love o' Moses, ain't it been rainin' ? Las' night, it sho did spill some. Ain't seen de sun fo' days.

Bobby. What's the difference? Whether one looks at raindrops or dewdrops — it's all the same.

Andy. Lor', Mr. Bobby, yo' suttenly am cheerful!

CKiTTY Blake, a pretty girt of twenty-two, enters L. She is cheaply dressed in a plain, but attractive gingham dress. There is a tired expression in her face; a lack of animation in her walk; no spirit of cheerfulness in her voice. She appears to be resigned to life — and what it may bring to her)

Kitty. (As she enters, there is no smile from her) Morning, Bobby, Andy! (Crosses to R. Takes off her hat; hangs it on nail above her desk; opens top of desk; takes out ink, ledgers, etc. Also small mirror which she hangs at r. of desk. Turns to Bobby as she sits at her desk) What about that Moss-Gray order to go to Walla Walla, Washington?

Bobby. I filled it out of stock, checked it up, tied It up; now, I'm going to wrap it up, put the label on it, stand it over there — (Points to L.j— for the expressman ; let him sign for it and away it goes !

Kitty. I worried half the night about that order. I knew no bill had been made out for it and I thought the order had been sent. We can't afford to let goods go out without charging them up.

(READY CRASH— READY LIGHTNING)

Bobby. Do you get paid extra for worrying? You do it all the time.

Kitty. Did that St. Paul shipment go ? (Working at ledger. Andy is working at hack)

Bobby. Yes. (Sighs. Having wrapped up one shipment and labelled it, he puts it on floor at L. Begins on another) Same old thing every day. Gee, it's fierce!

Kitty. Mr. John hasn't come down yet, has he ?

Bobby. No ! If "I" came down later, he'd "fire" me— P.D.Q. ! !

Andy. (Back of desk) Lor' bless his soul, Mr. Trellavan's a fine man, sho is ! He gibs me a quarter ebery week. Den I done gone an' spoilt his desk.

Bobby. He's liberal.

Andy. Sho is. He helps me an* m* oV lady.

Bobby. And children.

Andy. (Seriously; vehemently) I ain't got no CHIL'REN— JUS' ONE SON !l ! (Pause. They all work in silence. It becomes darker and darker, outside. A spirit of pessimism prevails)

Andy. It sho am goin' to rain.

Kitty. Andy, I must ask you to keep quiet. You disturb me.

Andy. I reckon I'll keep quiet soon enough. Missy. I'se purty ol'.

Bobby. You shouldn't feel bad about that. You'll be resting peacefully before long while we — we'll be here ALIVE— and WORKING FOR A LIVING!

Kitty. (Looks at letter in her hand; shows it to

"IN WALKED JIMMY" ii

Andy J Andy, go to the express office and see about this shipment.

Andy. Yessum. (As he crosses to l., he mutters to himself) You know, dat son o' mine

(Shakes his head worriedly, as he exits l.J

fMiss Rogers, a woman of^ thirty- five, enters l. She is tall, angular, decidedly eccentric in her mannerisms and speech. She wears a woebegone expression, as though she had lost everything that, and everybody zvhom, she had ever loved. She is bitter, gossipy)

Miss Rogers. (Crosses to c, hurriedly) Have you two heard the latest ? Scandalous, isn't it ?

Kitty. (Seriously) You mean about this factory?

Miss Rogers. Yes. (She crosses to r., takes off her hat, goes to Kitty's mirror, puts dab of powder on her face; then, anxiously) My mother's sister's cousin heard Mr. Bartlett tell Mr. Somebody else down in Rochester that Mr. Trellavan had not paid a certain bill that's overdue four months. And Mr. Bartlett said he was going to send the Cinderella Factory into bankruptcy !

Bobby. Who's Mr. Bartlett?

Miss Rogers. I don't know anything about the man— but his leathers have a FINE REPUTA- TION.

Kitty. If only Mr. Trellavan would advertise — like Mr. Bartlett does.

Miss Rogers. Bartlett's wise. He knows advertising's nothing but bait for suckers to bite on. Oh, well, I'd better go about my work. ("Miss Rogers walks to back; stops at window) It's going to rain again. Oh, well, as long as one MUST LIVE, one may just as well make the best of it. (Says this very gloomily)

Bobby. Going to take a vacation this year. Miss Rogers ?

Miss Rogers. What's the use? It's just as hot in the city as in this town.

Bobby. Thought you were going to the seashore.

Miss Rogers. One gets so FRECKLED there. And that's one thing men can't stand for — freckles ! (She exits hack, as she puts on her apron)

Kitty. I Hke her. She has such a PLEASANT disposition. (No smile from anyone so far)

(Enter at l. Arnold Baker, twenty-three, dressed up to the minute in fashion; supercilious; shallow)

Bobby. Yes, she has— NOT ! (Exits L.)

Arnold. Has my uncle come in yet?

Kitty. No, Mr. Arnold.

Arnold. Know anything about a telegram he sent to my sister, Kitty ? (Crosses to r. ; smiles at her impertinently)

Kitty. "Miss" Kitty, please, Mr. Arnold. (He crosses to John Trellavan's desk; sits on it; rolls cigarette) Your sample case is back of the shipping table.

(Enter l. John Trellavan, an old man of sixtyfive; the owner of the factory. As such, he presents a poor appearance; his clothes sag, his shoulders droop. However, he gives evidence of being well-educated. His voice is soft, his manners gentle. He is honest, hard-zvorking, sadly contemplative. Competition has been too keen for him-. He knows he is drowning in the Sea of Commercialism. He is ready to give up, to admit he is a failure)

John. Good morning. I'm a little late to-day. You're early. Miss Kitty. (He crosses to his desk.

Mail man enters l, leaves a stack of mail. John begins to open letters)

Kitty. I have much work to do. All the statements for the month have not been mailed.

Arnold. (Takes a few steps from desk; watches John open letters) Is it true, Uncle, Phyllis is coming home ?

John. T sent for her yesterday. She will be home to-day. (Continues glancing over mail. Bobby exits hack zmth empty go-cart. Kitty is zvorking fast)

Arnold. Then what I heard is true?

John. What was that?

Arnold. As I was passing Jones's Undertaking Parlors, I heard Mr. Jones, who was standing on his front step, say, ''Something's wrong with Trellavan. Better find out what's the trouble. He's looking worse every day."

John. (Looks up from his letters) He said THAT? To whom?

Arnold. Our family physician.

John. (Fingering letters nervously) A good combination — the family physician and the undertaker ! (He takes up one letter; looks it over with a haunting fear in his eyes)

Arnold. What's wrong, Unc?

John. Everything. Listen to this. (Reads letter) "The Cinderella Co., Gentlemen :— We regret we must remind you the enclosed bill is^ ninety days overdue. We have written you several times regarding this item and your inattention to this forces us to use more stringent methods. Our Mr. J. Bartlett will call upon you and unless satisfactory arrangements can be made, we will place your account in the hands of our attorneys for collection. Yours very truly, Bartlett and Company."

Arnold. We may not like the language they use

— ^but we can't find fault with their grammar, Unc.

John. This has been a dull season. Our bills have been large. We're behind — I know that — but we could pull through if — if Bartlett wouldn't press us

Arnold. Why don't you go over to Rochester and tell them you're ready to go broke, but if they'll come to the rescue, maybe the ship will not sink! (Sitting on edge of shipping table, smoking a cigarette)

John. (Stares at Arnold, astonished at his stupidity) I need not only extension of credit. I need leathers — stock — I must have both to continue business.

Arnold. You have never seen Bartlett or Graham, have you?

John. I do all my business with them through the mails.

Kitty. (Rises; crosses to John's desk, down c.) We have $22,000 on our books — all of which is nearly due.

(READY LIGHTNING— THUNDER)

John. But we owe (He buries his face in

his hands) It's over f Arnold comes c. ; puffs

at cigarette. John looks up at him) My boy, I'm afraid I will not live to see my ambition fulfilled. Your mother and I used to build childish castles, and now — I promised her I would leave you and Phyllis well provided for — but — she's gone — your

father's gone — and my hopes are (Tries to

conquer himself)

Kitty. Mr. John, I have $200 in the bank. If you think that would help you

John. Thank you, Miss Kitty. No! (Begins to write; pause) I want you to take this check. Then go out and look for another position, f John rises; hands Kitty the check. She refuses it.

John crosses to Kitty's desk; puts check upon it; crosses back to his desk at c.)

Arnold. What's the use of trying her luck with another factory? It's just as liable to go bankrupt as this one. ("John is sitting at his desk, writing)

John. A letter of recommendation

{^Miss Rogers enters hack, with lead pencils sticking in her hair and a hunch of tags in her hand: she is very husinesslike in her attitude)

Miss Rogers. Mr. John, our leather stock is running very low. (It is so dark now that John is ohliged to turn on the lights. From where she stands, Miss Rogers can see out of the window. Thunder! Miss Rogers glances out of window just when a flash of lightning plays vividly around the fire-escape. Miss Rogers moves away from window, frightened comically) I just hate lightning. A cousin of an uncle of my mother was KILLED by it.

John. (Sitting at his desk, writing) How low are we on leathers ?

Miss Rogers. We are all out of everything but —THE BLUES !

John. No blacks, no whites — Miss Rogers, here's a letter of recommendation and — a check! (Gives her hoth; for a moment she appears surprised)

Miss Rogers. I am fired?

John. You understand. Miss Rogers, we can't go on manufacturing without goods — and

Miss Rogers. I understand (Exits at

hack)

Arnold. I suppose it's up to me to look for something to do — just as I was beginning to be a success. ("Kitty exits at hack)

i6 "IN WALKED JIMMY"

John. Did you say SUCCESS? (Very surprised)

Arnold. (^John sits silent. Arnold puffs away, poise fully) Sure! I've been doing lots of thinking the past four months.

John. I'm glad to know you did something. You didn't sell any shoes.

Arnold. Oh, I made friends all along the line. (Sits on Kitty's chair at r.)

John. You advertised clear Havanas all along the line. Your cigar bill last month amounted to

Arnold. (Interrupts enthusiastically) Did I tell you what Conroy said to me yesterday? He owns the largest store in Buffalo. He said, "I like you and if I need any shoes the next time you come around, I may place an order with you." How's that?

John. He likes the brand of cigars you give away. How many did it cost you to hear that?

Arnold. That's encouragement.

John. He's been telling you that every week for four months.

Arnold. He's not the only one. No less than fifty men PROMISED me business.

John. That's all you got — promises ! If you could have traded in those fifty promises for FIVE ORDERS

Arnold. You couldn't expect me to come from college and enter business life as though I'd had experience. Football and selling baby shoes are two entirely DIFFERENT GAMES.

John. I know that, Arnold.

Arnold. I tell you a man's up against a pretty stiff proposition trying to make a buyer believe every baby living wears shoes. With all this eugenic stuff coming in so strong, women are letting their babies go barefooted. It's healthier and CHEAPER.

John. Did you give an argument like that to your customers?

Arnold. I burnt the candle at both ends. One month I argue about everything BUT shoes. The next month, I argued nothing but shoes. One moment, I was a regular good fellow ; the next, a salesman.

John. The first principle of the art of salesmanship is understanding human nature.

Arnold. You told me to cater to a man's whims and I'd sell him goods. You said, "Find his weak spot ; play to it." I followed your advice. I said to old man Johnson, down in Syracuse, *T wish you could have a drink on me." And what did he do? He kicked me out of his store. (Both men are serious; no smile) He's the only man I met in four months who didn't tell me I'm a live wire with the spark of success, at the other end.

John. He doesn't smoke, does he?

Arnold. No ! (Pause. Arnold rises. John is very worried) Uncle, I never liked selling shoes.

John. How do you know? You never sold any.

Arnold. I always wanted to be something bigger than a shoe salesman. I'd like to be a millionaire — and if I can't be that — a politician for me!

(Enter Andy, at L.J

Andy. Dere's a shipment down to de depot. Won't gib it to me. Saiys, express am collect.

John. Arnold, will you attend to it?

Arnold. There must be something wrong with the way you manufacture. Nearly every shipment that goes out comes back. (Takes up his hat; exits to L.) Oh, Unc, after I've been to the depot, you i8 "IN WALKED JIMMY"

won't mind if I pitch right in and land a $3,000 per year job?

John. You have my blessing.

Arnold. Good-bye, Unc. Now don't you worry about me. (Exits l. John rises; sees Andy; gives him a coin)

John. I will not need you after to-day, Andy.

Andy. Suh

John. I will not need you after to-day.

Andy. (Frightened) Ain't I done m' dooty by yo'? Ain't I done got all your boxes an' packages fo' de las'

John. Yes, Andy.

Andy. Ain't I always cleaned your windows, suh? (Turns coin over and over) Goin' away, suh?

John. (As a new thought comes to him) Perhaps!

Andy. Far away, suh?

John. Yes. The longest journey I've ever undertaken — the journey that knows — no end!

Andy. Reckon, suh, you'll need a valet?

John. No !

(READY PHONE)

Andy. I'm powerful glad I cleaned up fo' yo'. (^KiTTY enters. Crosses to her desk at R.J Yo' won't find a speck o' dirt nowhere. I cleaned up dis place jus' lak I did de las' house I work at. Lor', how I cleaned fo' dat funeral. Yo' could tell by de dirt in de cracks der war no ceremony in dat house fo' YEARS ! TJohn digs in his pocket; gives another coin to AndyJ Lor' bless yo' soul — and KEEP— IT— WHITE-~suh !

CAndy exits back. Bobby enters back, wheeling go-cart with trays of shoes. Pause. John sits thinking)

John. Miss Kitty, will you call up Graham & Co., Rochester, please? (He begins to file away some letters as Kitty comes to his desk to use phone)

Kitty. (At c, by John's desk; speaks into mouthpiece) Long distance . . . Rochester, please . . . (^John, worried and lifeless, sits the figure of abject woe. He stops filing azvay his letters. Bobby begins to pack shoes. It is raining outside) . . . Graham and Company, please. . . .

(Expressman enters l. Bobby gives him six packages; expressman signs for them; exits l.)

John. (To Kitty j Mr. Bartlett is coming here to-day.

Kitty. (Into phone) Graham and Company? . . . Hold the wire. . . . What? (To John; Which Mr. Graham do you want to speak to ?

John. The little fat one.

Kitty. (Into phone) Hello . . . Yes . . . The small, stout gentleman . . . What? . . . Wait a moment. . . . (To JohnJ Has he light or dark hair? There are TWO little fat Mr. Grahams.

John. He's bald. (Very seriously)

Kitty. I want to speak to the sm.all, stout gentleman with the least amount of hair. . . . Hello. . . . What? . . . Hold the wire. . . . ("John picks up phone, Kitty crosses to her desk; goes to work)

John. This is John Trellavan talking, Mr. Graham. . . . Yes, I received your letter this morning. ... I should like to have you come to see me. . . . It was your intention, eh? . . . Immediately. . . . Good-bye. . . . (Hangs up receiver. A groan escapes from him; he sits with his head in his hands. Telephone rings. John pays no attention to it, Kitty answers phone)

Kitty. (Into phone) Hello. . . . Yes. . . . (To John j Telephone, Mr. John. ("Kitty taps John's shoulder in an effort to awaken him to his duties. John looks up blankly) Telephone. ("Kitty gives phone to John J

John. Hello. . , . Who? . . . Mr. Higgins? . . . (Consternation registers on John's face) Just arrived ? . . . What ? . . . Coming to see me ? . . . Very well. (Hangs up receiver. To Kitty j Higgins just got back to town. He's coming right up.

Kitty. Looks like you're giving a reception, Mr. John.

John. Yes. A twenty-cent-on-the-dollar reception. ("Bobby has packed pairs of shoes in boxes; places them on shelf. John exits back)

Bobby. Wonder what's the matter with the boss ?

Kitty. I don't want to be wishing myself too much, Bobby, but I would like to see you ONCE — vv^hen you're not talking.

Bobby. Say, Kit, what's the matter? IN LOVE?

Kitty. No !

Bobby. YouVe not as romantic as I am, are you ?

Kitty. I can't be romantic by myself, can I? (With a tinge of sentiment, but without a smile) I might be — if the right man came along. ("Bobby has stopped working; hears someone coming; gets back to work with a vim. and dash, as Miss Rogers enters back, zvearing her hat)

Miss Rogers. Still working? My mother's sister used to say, "A dollar in the hand is sometimes worth more than five hundred on a piece of paper." I'm off to cash my check. Oh, have you heard the news?

Bobby. About the hold-up?

Miss Rogers. I knew somebody would beat me to it. (Vindictively, to Bobby^ Some people have such a mean disposition !

Kitty. What is it? I haven't heard

Bobby. The train was held up last night ■

Miss Rogers. No, it was early this morning-. Think of it — a hold-up — just like the ones in the movies! Three men held up the train at DeviFs Curve and tried to rob the express cars, but the crew and some of the passengers frightened them off

Bobby. They're sure to be caught for the officers have a good description of them and

Miss Rogers. Two of them went north and were seen distinctly ; one, a tall, red-faced man, and the other, short and stout. But the third man disappeared completely. No one knows anything about

him, except that he wore (Describe Jimmy's

clothing in Act I) Isn't it the limit? Well, my mother's aunt's cousin used to say, "If there were no crimes in the world, there could not be any newspapers." (Exits into stock room)

CAndy enters with telegram)

Bobby. What's wrong now?

Andy. Telegram fo' de boss.

Kitty. I'll take it.

Andy. De Lor' only knows what's goin' to come o' dis nigger. You know, Mr. Bobby, dat son o' mine

Bobby. Don't tell it to me. I've got troubles of my own. (Exits L.J

Andy. Trouble? Seems like I'm ol' man Trouble's only son. (Exits hack. Telephone rings. Kitty answers it)

Kitty. Cinderella Factory. . . . Who? . . . The First National Bank. I'll tell Mr. Trellavan. (Exits back)

("John enters back) (LIGHTNING! THUNDER! RAIN!)

John. (Takes up receiver; talks into phone) Hello. . . . Mr. Harper. ... I know it, but if you would only give me a little time . . . Yes, I know, it's overdue, but my collections are slow and for God's sake, don't do that, Mr. Harper, you'll force

me into bank Hello! Hello! . . . (He hangs

up the receiver; then says, half to himself) It's no

use rjoHN sees the telegram on his desk; opens

it; reads) "Countermand entire order given your salesman March 13th." Puts telegram down; pause; he opens his desk drawer; takes from it a revolver; he sees that it is loaded; looks at it a moment; puts it down; walks over to his safe; opens it; takes out a few papers; reads) "Metropolitan Insurance Co. In favor of Phyllis Baker, the sum of ten thousand

dollars (Stops; puts papers back in safe.

Comes back to his desk. Stands there a moment. Looks at revolver; picks it up, slowly, carefully in his right hand, as though he were contemplating shooting himself. Very, very slowly, he raises revolver to his temple. Stage is now darkened. Light on ivindow, shozmng the rain coming down in torrents. Light on John's face)

Jimmy. (Off stage in a low and mysterious tone) Wait a minute! What's your hurry? ("Jimmy enters left. He is a young fellow of about twenty-eight or thirty ; well-dressed. A broad smile plays around his mouth and, when he speaks, there is a superiority about him that specializes him from the townspeople. His voice is low and beautiful. His demeanor is that of a perfect gentleman. There is an infinite lightness, delicacy and finesse about Jimmy that are irresistibly contagious. He is, at once, a lovable man who is endowed with the strength of beauty and the beauty of strength. He wears a slouch hat, a blue Norfolk suit, a tan rain coat and tan shoes) Think it over — another day.

John. (As his right hand is lowered; weakly) But

Jimmy. (With much finesse, delivered with that unconquerable spirit of adventure) Oh, I know what I am — and I know what I've done — and it isn't the first time. I've helped people out of burning buildings. I've rescued them from the ocean's mighty grasp. I once clung to a raft with a foolish woman who thought she hated her husband. I've been under trolley cars saving babies for mothers about to be deprived of the love of their offspring. I've interrupted at least twenty men who were going to Kingdom Come by the Revolver Route. And after I saved them, they were happy and lived prosperously ever after. (Takes John's hands in his; shakes it hard) How do you do? My name is