Average Jones
AVERAGE JONES By Samuel Hopkins Adams CHAPTER I THE B-FLAT TROMBONE Three men sat in the Cosmic Club discussing the question: "What's the matter with Jones?" Waldemar, the oldest of the conferees, was the owner, and at times the operator, of an important and decent newspaper. His heavy face wore the expression of good-humored power, characteristic of the experienced and successful journalist. Beside him sat Robert Bertram, the club idler, slender and languidly elegant. The third member of the conference was Jones himself.
shading his eyes_.) It's horrid still. Why--they're here! Jack--you!
What makes you--lie there? You beggar--oh, my God! They're dead.
Jack Arnold, and Martin and--Cram and Bennett and Emmet
and--Dragamore--Oh--God, God! All the boys! Good American boys. The
whole blamed bunch--dead in a ditch. Only me. Dying, in a ditch filled
with dead men. What's the sense? (_Silence_.) This damned silly war.
This devilish--killing. When we ought to be home, doing man's work--and
play. Getting some tennis, maybe, this hot afternoon; coming in sweaty
and dirty--and happy--to a tub--and dinner--with mother. (_Groans_.) It
begins to hurt--oh, it hurts confoundedly. (_Becomes delirious_.)
Canoeing on the river. With little Jim. See that trout jump, Jimmie?
Cast now. Under the log at the edge of the trees. That's it! Good--oh!
(_Groans_.) It hurts--badly. Why, how can I stand it? How can anybody?
I'm badly wounded. Jimmie--tell mother. Oh--good boy--you've hooked him.
Now play him; lead him away from the lily-pads. (_Groans_.) Oh, mother!
Won't you come? I'm wounded. You never failed me before. I need you--if
I die. You went away down--to the gate of life, to bring me inside.
Now--it's the gate of death--you won't fail? You'll bring me through to
that other life? You and I, mother--and I won't be scared. You're the
first--and the last. (_Puts out his arm searching and folds a hand,
still warm, of a dead soldier_.) Ah--mother, my dear. I knew--you'd
come. Your hand is warm--comforting. You always--are there when I need
you. All my life. Things are getting--hazy. (_He laughs_.) When I was a
kid and came down in an elevator--I was all right, I didn't mind the
drop if I might hang on to your hand. Remember? (_Pats dead soldier's
hand, then clutches it again tightly_.) You come with me when I go
AVERAGE JONES By Samuel Hopkins Adams CHAPTER I THE B-FLAT TROMBONE Three men sat in the Cosmic Club discussing the question: "What's the matter with Jones?" Waldemar, the oldest of the conferees, was the owner, and at times the operator, of an important and decent newspaper. His heavy face wore the expression of good-humored power, characteristic of the experienced and successful journalist. Beside him sat Robert Bertram, the club idler, slender and languidly elegant. The third member of the conference was Jones himself.