OR IMAGE: GENTLEMAN CALLER WAVING GOOD-BYE! – GAILY.

At this moment AMANDA rushes brightly back in the front room. She bears a pitcher of fruit Punch in an old-fashioned cut-glass Pitcher and a plate of macaroons. The Plate has a gold border and poppies painted on it.]

AMANDA: Well, Well, Well! Isn’t the air delightful after the shower? I’ve made you children a little liquid refreshment.

[Turns gaily to the gentleman caller.]

JIM, do you know that song about lemonade? “Lemonade, lemonade Made in the shade and stirred with a spade Good enough for any old maid!”

JIM [uneasily]: Ha-ha! No – I never heard it.

AMANDA: Why, Laura! You look so serious!

JIM: We were having a serious conversation.

AMANDA: Good! Now you’re better acquainted!

JIM: [uncertainly] : Ha-ha! Yes.

AMANDA: You modem young people are much more serious-minded than my generation. I was so gay as a girl!

JIM: You haven’t changed, Mrs. Wingfield

AMANDA: Tonight I’m rejuvenated! The gaiety of the occasion, Mr. O’Connor!

[She tosses her head with a pod of laughter. Spa lemonade.]

Oooo! I’m baptizing myself!

JIM: Here – let me

AMANDA [Setting the pitcher down] : There now. I discovered we had some maraschino cherries. I dumped them in, juice and all!

JIM: You shouldn’t have gone to that trouble, Mrs. Wingfield.

AMANDA: Trouble, trouble? Why, it was loads of fun! Didn’t you hear me cutting up in the kitchen? I bet your ears were burning! I told Tom how outdone with him I was for keeping you to himself so long a time! He should have brought you over much, much sooner! Well, now that you’ve found your way, I want you to be a very frequent caller! Not just occasional but all the time. Oh, we’re going to have a lot of gay times together! I see them coming! Mmm, just breathe that air! So fresh, and the moon’s so pretty! I’ll skip back out – I know where my place is when young folks are having a – serious conversation!

JIM: Oh, don’t go out, Mrs. Wingfield. The fact of the matter is I’ve got to be going.

AMANDA: Going, now? You’re joking! Why, it’s only the shank of the evening, Mr. O’Connor!

JIM: Well, you know how it is.

AMANDA: You mean you’re a young working man and have to keep working men’s hours. Well let you off early tonight. But only on the condition that next time you stay later. What’s the best night for you? Isn’t Saturday night the best night for you working men?

JIM: I have a couple of time-clocks to punch, Mrs. Wingfield. One at morning, another one at night!

AMANDA: My, but you are ambitious! You work at night, too?

JIM: No, Ma’am, not work but – Betty! [He crosses deliberately to pick up his hat. The band at the Paradise Dance Hall goes into a tender waltz.]

AMANDA: Betty? Betty? Who’s – Betty!

[There is an ominous cracking sound in the sky.]

JIM: Oh, just a girl. The girl I go steady with [He smiles charmingly. The sky falls]

[LEGEND: “THE SKY FALLS”.]

AMANDA [a long-drawn exhalation]: Ohhhh. … Is it a serious romance, Mr. O’Connor?

JIM: – We’re going to be married the second Sunday in June.

AMANDA: Ohhhh – how nice! Tom didn’t mention that you were engaged to be married.

JIM: The cat’s not out of the bag at the warehouse yet. You know how they are. They call you Romeo and stuff like that.[He stops at the oval mirror to put on his hat. He carefully shapes the brim and the crown to give a discreetly dashing effect.]It’s been a wonderful evening, Mrs. Wingfield. I guess this is what they mean by Southern hospitality.

AMANDA: It really wasn’t anything at all.

JIM: I hope it don’t seem like I’m rushing off. But I promised Betty I’d pick her up at the Wabash depot, an’ by the time I get my jalopy down there her train’ll be in. Some women are pretty upset if you keep ‘em waiting.

AMANDA: Yes, I know – The tyranny of women!

[Extends her hand.]

Good-bye, Mr. O’Connor. I wish you luck – and happiness – and success! All three of them, and so does Laura! – Don’t you, Laura?

LAURA: Yes!

JIM [taking her hand]: Good-bye, Laura. I’m certainly going to treasure that souvenir. And don’t you forget the good advice I gave you.

[Raises his voice to a cheery shout.]

So long, Shakespeare! Thanks again, ladies – Good night!

[He grins and ducks jauntily out]

Still bravely grimacing, AMANDA closes the door on the gentleman caller. Then she turns back to the room with a Puzzled expression. She and LAURA don’t dare face each other. LAURA crouches beside the victrola to wind it]

AMANDA [faintly] Things have a way of turning out so badly. I don’t believe that I would play the victrola. Well, well – well Our gentleman caller was engaged to be married! TOM!

TOM [from back]: Yes, Mother?

AMANDA: Come in here a minute. I want to tell you something awfully funny.

TOM [enters with macaroon and a glass of lemonade]: Has the gentleman caller gotten away already?

AMANDA: The gentleman caller has made an early departure. What a wonderful joke you played on us!

TOM: How do you mean?

AMANDA: You didn’t mention that he was engaged to be married.

TOM: Jim? Engaged?

AMANDA: That’s what he just informed us.

TOM: I’ll be jiggered! I didn’t know about that

AMANDA: That seems very peculiar.

TOM: What’s peculiar about it?

AMANDA: Didn’t you call him your best friend down at the warehouse?

TOM: He is, but how did I know?

AMANDA: It seems extremely peculiar that you wouldn’t know your best friend was going to be married!

TOM: The warehouse is where I work, not where I know things about people!

AMANDA: You don’t know things anywhere! You live in a dream; you manufacture illusions!

[He crosses to door.]

Where are you going?

TOM: I’m going to the movies.

AMANDA: That’s right, now that you’ve had us make such fools of ourselves. The effort, the preparations, all the expense! The new floor lamp, the rug, the clothes for Laura! all for what? To entertain some other girl’s fiancé! Go to the movies, go! Don’t think about us, a mother deserted, an unmarried sister who’s crippled and has no job! Don’t let anything interfere with your selfish pleasure! Just go, go, go – to the movies!

TOM: All right, I will! The more you shout about my selfishness to me the quicker I’ll go, and I won’t go to the movies!

AMANDA: Go, then! Then go to the moon – you selfish dreamer!

[Tom smashes his glass on the floor. He plunges out on the fire-escape, slamming the door . LAURA screams – cut by door. Dance-hall Music up. TOM goes to the rail and grips it desperately, lifting his face in the chill white moonlight penetrating narrow abyss of the alley.

LEGEND ON SCREEN: “AND SO GOOD-BYE…”

TOM’s closing speech is timed with the interior pantomime. The interior scene is played as though viewed through soundproof glass. AMANDA appears to be making a comforting speech to LAURA who is huddled upon the sofa. Now that we cannot hear the mother’s speech, her silliness is gone and she has dignity and tragic beauty. LAURA’ s dark hair hides her face until at the end of the speech she lifts it to smile at her Mother. AMANDA’ s gestures are slow and graceful, almost dancelike as she comforts the daughter. At the end of her speech she glances a moment at the father’s picture – then withdraws through the portières. At the close of Tom’s speech, LAURA blows out the candles, ending the play.]

TOM: I didn’t go to the moon, I went much further – for time is the longest distance between places. Not long after that I was fired for writing a poem on the lid of a shoebox. I left Saint Louis. I descended the step of this fire-escape for a last time and followed, from then on, in my father’s footsteps, attempting to find in motion what was lost in space – I travelled around a great deal. The cities swept about me like dead leaves, leaves that were brightly coloured but torn away from the branches. I would have stopped, but I was pursued by something. It always came upon me unawares, taking me altogether by surprise. Perhaps it was a familiar bit of music. Perhaps it was only a piece of transparent glass. Perhaps I am walking along a street at night, in some strange city, before I have found companions. I pass the lighted window of a shop where perfume is sold. The window is filled with pieces of coloured glass, tiny transparent bottles in delicate colours, like bits of a shattered rainbow. Then all at once my sister touches my shoulder. I turn around and look into her eyes …Oh, Laura, Laura, I tried to leave you behind me, but I am more faithful than I intended to be! I reach for a cigarette, I cross the street, I run into the movies or a bar, I buy a drink, I speak to the nearest stranger – anything that can blow your candles out! [LAURA bends over the candles.] – for nowadays the world is lit by lightning! Blow out your candles, Laura – and so good-bye.