last leaf
THE LAST LEAF SCENE ONE
NARRATOR:
In New York City, there's a small district just west of Washington Square, where the narrow, irregular streets have run crazy and broken themselves into short strips called places. It's an ancient, residential community where many of the beautiful, old, brick houses date back to the 1820's, when an epidemic forced people from the city to what was then a rural suburban village. Now, in the final year of the nineteenth century, we find clusters of colorful restaurants, theaters, and shops. People interested in the creative lifestyle were attracted by the quaint, continental atmosphere, and so, to this village of the big city, they've come: the artists, the actors, the musicians, the dancers, the writers, hunting for nirth windows and 18th century gables and Dutch attics and low rents.
[RESTAURANT SOUNDS]
It's an evening in late spring, and the dinner hour finds the little Eighth Street Delmonico's busy as usual. Most of the patrons this evening, the village old-timers, blend into the surroundings: but now and then there's one who stands out, a recent arrival. Joanna Gaines is one of these. Alone in the crowd, she looks new, fragile, out of place.
She pays for her tray of food, then standing for a moment, awkward, she looks around. Finally, spotting her goal, chin out, she crosses the room to a tiny table with two chairs and only one diner.
§ § §
JOHNSY:
Excuse me! All the other tables seem to be taken. Do you mind if I sit here?
SUE:
Oh! No! Of course not! I'd love the company. Please! Join me.
JOHNSY:
Thank you! My name is Joanna Gaines.
SUE:
Hello, Joanna! Susan Cross. Friends call me Sue.
JOHNSY:
Hi, Sue. My friends call me Johnsy.
SUE:
Johnsy! I like it.
JOHNSY:
It's really busy in here this time of day, isn't it. Do you eat here often?
SUE:
Just about every day. It's the cheapest, and the best place around. I haven't seen you in here before, have I?
JOHNSY:
No, this is the first time. I just got to
NARRATOR:
In New York City, there's a small district just west of Washington Square, where the narrow, irregular streets have run crazy and broken themselves into short strips called places. It's an ancient, residential community where many of the beautiful, old, brick houses date back to the 1820's, when an epidemic forced people from the city to what was then a rural suburban village. Now, in the final year of the nineteenth century, we find clusters of colorful restaurants, theaters, and shops. People interested in the creative lifestyle were attracted by the quaint, continental atmosphere, and so, to this village of the big city, they've come: the artists, the actors, the musicians, the dancers, the writers, hunting for nirth windows and 18th century gables and Dutch attics and low rents.
[RESTAURANT SOUNDS]
It's an evening in late spring, and the dinner hour finds the little Eighth Street Delmonico's busy as usual. Most of the patrons this evening, the village old-timers, blend into the surroundings: but now and then there's one who stands out, a recent arrival. Joanna Gaines is one of these. Alone in the crowd, she looks new, fragile, out of place.
She pays for her tray of food, then standing for a moment, awkward, she looks around. Finally, spotting her goal, chin out, she crosses the room to a tiny table with two chairs and only one diner.
§ § §
JOHNSY:
Excuse me! All the other tables seem to be taken. Do you mind if I sit here?
SUE:
Oh! No! Of course not! I'd love the company. Please! Join me.
JOHNSY:
Thank you! My name is Joanna Gaines.
SUE:
Hello, Joanna! Susan Cross. Friends call me Sue.
JOHNSY:
Hi, Sue. My friends call me Johnsy.
SUE:
Johnsy! I like it.
JOHNSY:
It's really busy in here this time of day, isn't it. Do you eat here often?
SUE:
Just about every day. It's the cheapest, and the best place around. I haven't seen you in here before, have I?
JOHNSY:
No, this is the first time. I just got to