I’ll let him in.
She goes to the door and opens it. The figure of the new postman is outlined in the doorway against the morning sky. It is Jerry Frost.
But for a particular reason neither Doris nor Joseph Fish recognize him. He is utterly changed. In the gray uniform his once flabby figure appears firm, erect—even defiant. His chin is up—the office stoop has gone. When he speaks his voice is full of confidence, with perhaps a touch of scorn at the conglomerate weaknesses of humanity.
{133}
Jerry. Good morning. Would you like some mail?
Doris [taken somewhat aback]. Why, sure. I guess so.
Jerry. It’s a nice morning out. You two ought to be out walking.
Fish [blankly]. Huh?
Jerry. Is this number 2127? If it is, I’ve got a good-looking lot of mail for you.
Doris [with growing interest]. What do you mean, a good looking lot of mail?
Jerry. What do I mean? Why, I mean it’s got variety, of course. [Rummaging in his bag.] I got eight letters for you.
Doris. Say, you’re new on this beat, aren’t you?
Jerry. Yes, I’m new but I’m good. [He produces a handful of letters.] I’m the best one they ever had.
Fish. How do you know? Did they tell you?
Jerry. No, I just feel it. I know my job. I can give any other mailman stamps and post-cards and beat him with bundles. I’m just naturally good. I don’t know why.
Doris. I never heard of a mailman being good.
Jerry. They’re mostly all good. Some professions anybody can get into them, like business or politics for instance, but you take postmen—they’re like angels,{134} they sort of pick ’em out. [Witheringly.] They not only pick ’em out—they select ’em.
Fish [fascinated]. And you’re the best one.
Jerry [modestly]. Yes, I’m the best one they ever had. [He looks over the letters.] Now here’s what I call a clever ad. Delivered a lot of these this morning. Children like ’em, you know. They’re from the carpet company.
Fish. Let’s see it. [He takes the ad eagerly.]
Jerry. Isn’t that a nice little thing? And I got two bills for you here. I’ll hide those, though. Still, maybe you want to clear up all your accounts. Some people like to get bills. The old lady next door wanted to get hers. I gave her three and you’d think they were checks. Anyways, these two don’t look very big, from the outside, anyhow. But of course you can’t tell from the outside.
Doris. Let me see them.
Fish. Let me see them too.
They squabble mildly over the bills.
Jerry. The thing is for everybody in the house to write what they guess is the amount of the bill on the outside of the envelope, and then when you open the envelope the one who guessed the closest has to pay the bill.{135}
Fish. Or he could get a prize.
Jerry. Something like that. [He winks at Doris.] And here’s a couple of post-cards. They’re sort of pretty ones. This one’s—the Union Station at Buffalo.
Fish. Let me see it.
Jerry. And this one says Xmas greetings. It’s four months late. [To Doris.] I guess these are for you.
Doris. No, they’re for my sister.
Jerry. Well, I haven’t read what’s written on the back. I never do. I hope it’s good news.
Doris [inspecting the backs]. No, they’re from an aunt or something. Anything else?
Jerry. Yes, here’s one more. I think it’s one of the neatest letters I’ve had this morning. Now, isn’t that a cute letter? I call that a cute letter. [He weighs it in his hand and smells it.] Smell it.
Doris. It does smell good. It’s a perfume ad.
Fish. Say, that sure does smell good.
Jerry. Well, I’ve done pretty well by you this morning. Maybe you got a letter for me.
Doris. No, there’s none to-day.
Jerry. Funny thing: I came near leaving that pink letter with a little girl down the street who looked as if she needed one pretty bad. I thought that maybe it was really meant for her, and just had the wrong name{136} and address on by mistake. It would of tickled her. I get tempted to leave mail where it really ought to go instead of where it’s addressed to. Mail ought to go to people who appreciate it. It’s hard on a postman, especially when he’s the best one they ever had.
Doris. I guess it must be.
Fish. Yeah, it must be tough.
They are both obviously fascinated.
Doris. Well, there’s somebody in this house who needs the right letter something awful. If you get one that looks as if it might do for her you could leave it by here.
Jerry. Is that so? Well, that’s too bad. I’ll certainly keep that in mind. The next one I think’ll do, I’ll leave it by here.
Doris. Thanks.
Jerry. I’ve got one of these special delivery love-letters for a girl around the corner, and I want to hurry up and give it to her, so as to see her grin when she gets it. It’s for Miss Doris——
Doris [interrupting]. That’s me. Give it to me now.
Jerry. Sure. Say, this is lucky. [He starts to hand it to her.] Say, listen—why are you like a stenographer?
Doris. Me?
Jerry. Yes.{137}
Doris. I don’t know. Why?
Jerry. Because I say to you, “Take a letter.”
Fish [wildly amused]. Ha-ha! Ha-ha-ha!
Jerry [with some satisfaction]. That’s a good one, isn’t it? I made that one up this morning.
Fish. Ha-ha! Ho-ho!
Doris. Joseph, I asked you to have some respect for the missing. [To Jerry.] You see there’s a fella missing here and it’s his wife that needs the letter.
Fish [jealously]. Who’s your letter from?
Doris [reading it]. It’s from my last fiancé. It says he didn’t mean to drink the perfume, but the label was off the bottle and he thought it was bay rum.
Fish. My God! Will you forgive him?
Jerry. Don’t worry, my boy. Bay rum or perfume, he killed her love with the first swallow. [He goes toward the door.] Good-by. I’ll try to find that letter for the lady here that needs it so bad.
Doris. Good-by—and thanks.
Fish. Let me open the door.
He opens the door. Jerry goes out. Doris and Fish stare at each other.
Doris. Isn’t he wonderful?
Fish. He’s a peach of a fella, but—{138}—
Doris. I know what you’re going to say; that you’ve seen him somewhere before.
Fish. I’m trying to think where. Maybe he’s been in the movies.
Doris. I think it’s that he looks like some fella I was engaged to once.
Fish. He’s some mailman.
Doris. The nicest one I ever saw. Isn’t he for you?
Fish. By far. Say, Charlie Chaplin’s down at the Bijou.
Doris. I don’t like him. I think he’s vulgar. Let’s go and see if there’s anything artistic.
Fish makes an indistinguishable frightened noise.
Doris. What’s the matter?
Fish. I’ve swallowed my gum.
Doris. It ought to teach you a moral.
They go out. Charlotte comes in drearily. She glances first eagerly, then listlessly at the letters and throws them aside.
Clin-ng! The door-bell. She starts violently, runs to open it. It is that astounding product of our constitution, Mr. Snooks.
Charlotte [in horror]. Oh, what do you want?
Snooks [affably]. Good morning, lady. Is your husband around?{139}
Charlotte. No. What have you done with him, you beast!
Snooks [surprised]. Say, what’s biting you, lady?
Charlotte. My husband was all right until you came here with that poison! What have you done with him? Where is he? What did you give him to drink? Tell me, or I’ll scream for the police! Tell me! Tell me!
Snooks. Lady, I ain’t seen your husband.
Charlotte. You lie! You know my husband has run away.
Snooks [interested]. Say now, has he? I had a hunch he would, sooner or later.
Charlotte. You made him. You told him to, that night, after I went out of the room! You suggested it to him. He’d never have thought of it.
Snooks. Lady, you got me wrong.
Charlotte. Then where is he? If I’m wrong, find him.
Snooks [after a short consideration]. Have you tried the morgue?
Charlotte. Oh-h-h! Don’t say that word!
Snooks. Oh, he ain’t in the morgue. Probably some Jane’s got hold of him. She’ll send him home when she gets all his dough.{140}
Charlotte. He isn’t a brute like you. He’s been kidnapped.
Snooks. Maybe he’s joined the Marine Corpse…. Howsoever, if he ain’t here I guess I’ll be movin’ on.
Charlotte. What do you want of him now? Do you want to sell him some more wood alcohol?
Snooks. Lady, I don’t handle no wood alcohol. But I found a way of getting the grain alcohol out of iodine an’ practically eliminatin’ the poison. Just leaves a faint brownish tinge.
Charlotte. Go away.
Snooks. All right. I’ll beat it.
So he beats it.
Charlotte’s getting desperate from such encounters. With gathering nervousness she wanders about the room, almost collapsing when she comes upon one of Jerry’s coats hanging behind a door. Scarcely aware of what she’s doing, she puts on the coat and buttons it close, as if imagining that Jerry is holding her to him in the brief and half-forgotten season of their honeymoon.
Outside a storm is come up. It has grown dark suddenly, and a faint drum of thunder lengthens into a cataract of doom. A louder rolling now and a great snake of lightning in the sky. Charlotte, lonesome and frightened, hurriedly closes the {141}windows. Then, in sudden panic, she runs to the ’phone.
Charlotte. Summit 3253…. Hello, this is me. This is Charlotte…. Is Doris there? Do you know where she is?… Well, if she comes in tell her to run over. Everything’s getting dark and I’m frightened…. Yes, maybe somebody’ll come in, but nobody goes out in a storm like this. Even the policeman on the corner has gotten under a tree…. Well, I’ll be all right. I’m just lonesome, I guess, and
