[The back door is pushed weakly open and LAURA comes in. She is obviously quite faint, her lips trembling, her eyes wide and staring. She moves unsteadily toward the table.

LEGEND: “TERROR!”

Outside a summer storm is coming abruptly. The white curtains billow inward at the windows and there is a sorrowful murmur and deep blue dusk. LAURA suddenly stumbles – she catches at a chair with a faint moan.]

TOM: Laura!

AMANDA: Laura!.

[LEGEND: “AH!”]

[Despairingly] Why, Laura, you are sick, darling! Tom, help your sister into the living-room, dear! Sit in the living-room, Laura – rest on the sofa. Well!

[To the gentleman caller.]

Standing over the hot stove made her ill! – I told her that was just – too warm this evening, but –

[Tom comes back in. LAURA is on the sofa.]

Is Laura all right now?

TOM: Yes.

AMANDA: What is that? Rain? A nice cool rain has come up!

[She gives the gentleman caller a frightened look.]

I think we may – have grace – now …

[Tom looks at her steadily.]

Tom, honey – you say grace!

TOM: Oh …’For these and all thy mercies-’

[They bow their heads, AMANDA stealing a nervous glance at JIM. In the living-room LAURA, stretched on the sofa, clenches her hand to her lips, to hold back a shuddering sob.]

God’s Holy Name be praised

[THE SCENE DIMS OUT]

[A SOUVENIR

Half an hour later. Dinner is just being finished in the upstage area which is concealed by the drawn portières. As the curtain rises LAURA is still huddled upon the sofa, her feet drawn under her, her head resting on a pale blue pillow, her eyes wide and mysteriously watchful. The new floor lamp with its shade of rose-coloured silk gives a soft, becoming light to her face, bringing out the fragile, unearthly prettiness which usually escapes attention. There is a steady murmur of rain, but it is slackening and stops soon after the scene begins; the air outside becomes pale and luminous as the moon breaks out. A moment after the curtain rises, the lights in both rooms flicker and go out.]

JIM: Hey, there, Mr. Light Bulb!

[AMANDA laughs nervously.

LEGEND: “SUSPENSION OF A PUBLIC SERVICE!”]

AMANDA: Where was Moses when the lights went out? Ha-ha. Do you know the answer to that one, Mr. O’Connor?

JIM: No, Ma’am, what’s the answer?

AMANDA: In the dark!

[JIM laughs appreciatively.]

Everybody sit still. I’ll light the candles. Isn’t it lucky we have them on the table? Where’s a match? Which of you gentlemen can provide a match?

JIM: Here.

AMANDA: Thank you, Sir.

JIM: Not at all, Ma’am!

AMANDA: I guess the fuse has burnt out. Mr. O’Connor, can you tell a burnt-out fuse? I know I can’t and Tom is a total loss when it comes to mechanics.

[SOUND: GETTING UP: VOICES RECEDE A LITTLE TO KITCHENETTE.]

Oh, be careful you don’t bump into something. We don’t want our gentleman caller to break his neck. Now wouldn’t that be a fine howdy-do?

JIM: Ha-ha! Where is the fuse-box?

AMANDA: Right here next to the stove. Can you see anything?

JIM: just a minute.

AMANDA: Isn’t electricity a mysterious thing? Wasn’t it Benjamin Franklin who tied a key to a kite? We live in such a mysterious universe, don’t we? Some people say that science clears up all the mysteries for us. In my opinion it only creates more! Have you found it yet?

JIM: No, Ma’am. All these fuses look okay to me.

AMANDA: Tom!

TOM: Yes, Mother?

AMANDA: That light bill I gave you several days ago. The one I told you we got the notices about?

[LEGEND: “HA!”]

TOM: Oh. – Yeah.

AMANDA: You didn’t neglect to pay it by any chance?

TOM: Why, I –

AMANDA: Didn’t! I might have known it!

JIM: Shakespeare probably wrote a poem on that light bill, Mrs. Wingfield.

AMANDA: I might have known better than to trust him with it! There’s such a high price for negligence in this world!

JIM: Maybe the poem will win a ten-dollar prize.

AMANDA: We’ll just have to spend the remainder of the evening in the nineteenth century, before Mr. Edison made the Mazda lamp!

JIM: Candlelight is my favourite kind of light.

AMANDA: That shows you’re romantic! But that’s no excuse for Tom. Well, we got through dinner. Very considerate of them to let us get through dinner before they plunged us into ever-lasting darkness, wasn’t it, Mr. O’Connor?

JIM: Ha-ha!

AMANDA: Tom, as a penalty for your carelessness you can help me with the dishes.

JIM: Let me give you a hand.

AMANDA: Indeed you will not!

JIM: I ought to be good for something.

AMANDA: Good for something? [Her tone is rhapsodic.] You? Why, Mr. O’Connor, nobody, nobody’s given me this much entertainment in years – as you have!

JIM: Aw, now, Mrs. Wingfield!

AMANDA: I’m not exaggerating, not one bit! But Sister is all by her lonesome. You go keep her company in the parlour! I’ll give you this lovely old candelabrum that used to be on the altar at the church of the Heavenly Rest. It was melted a little out of shape when the church burnt down. Lightning struck it one spring. Gypsy Jones was holding a revival at the time and he intimated that the church was destroyed because the Episcopalians gave card parties.

JIM: Ha-ha.

AMANDA: And how about you coaxing Sister to drink a little wine? I think it would be good for her! Can you carry both at once?

JIM: Sure. I’m Superman!

AMANDA: Now, Thomas, get into this apron!

[The door of kitchenette swings closed on Amanda’s gay laughter; the flickering light approaches the portières. LAURA sits up nervously as he enters. Her speech at first is low and breathless from the almost intolerable strain of being alone with a stranger.

THE LEGEND: “I DON’T SUPPOSE YOU REMEMBER ME AT ALL!”.

In her first speeches in this scene, before JIM’s warmth overcomes her paralysing shyness, LAURA’s voice is thin and breathless as though she has just run up a steep flight of stairs. JIM’s attitude is gently humorous. In playing this scene it should be stressed that while the incident is apparently unimportant, it is to LAURA the climax of her secret life.]

JIM: Hello, there, Laura.

LAURA [faintly]: Hello. [She clears her throat.]

JIM: How are you feeling now? Better?

LAURA: Yes. Yes, thank you.

JIM: This is for you. A little dandelion wine. [He extends it toward her with extravagant gallantry.]

LAURA: Thank you.

JIM: Drink it – but don’t get drunk!

[He laughs heartily. LAURA takes the glass uncertainly; laughs shyly.]

Where shall I set the candles?

LAURA: Oh – oh, anywhere…

JIM: How about here on the floor? Any objections?

LAURA: No.

JIM: I’ll spread a newspaper under to catch the drippings. I like to sit on the floor. Mind if I do?

LAURA: Oh, no.

JIM: Give me a pillow?

LAURA: What?

JIM: A pillow!

LAURA: Oh… [Hands him one quickly.]

JIM: How about you? Don’t you like to sit on the floor?

LAURA: Oh – yes.

JIM: Why don’t you, then?

LAURA: I – Will.

JIM: Take a pillow! [LAURA does. Sits on the other side of the candelabrum. JIM crosses his legs and smiles engagingly as her.] I can’t hardly see you sitting way over there.

LAURA: I can – see you.

JIM: I know, but that’s not fair, I’m in the limelight. [LAURA moves her pillow closer.] Good! Now I can see you! Comfortable?

LAURA: Yes.

JIM: So am I . Comfortable as a cow! Will you have some gum?