Lucky Pehr

Window shutters at back wide open, starlit sky is seen through windows. Background: Snow covered house-roofs; gable windows in the distance brilliantly illuminated. In room an old chair, a fire-pan and a picture of the Virgin, with a lighted candle before it. Room is divided by posts—two in centre thick enough to conceal an adult.

Chant, in unison, from the church below:

A Solis ortus cardine
Et usque terrae limitem
Christum canamus principem
Natum Maria Virgini.

[Old Man comes up tower steps and enters carrying a rat-trap, a barley-sheaf and a dish of porridge, which he sets down on the floor.]

OLD MAN. Now the elf shall have his Christmas porridge. And this year he has earned it honestly—twice he awakened me when I fell asleep and forgot the tower shutters; once he rang the bell when fire broke loose. Merry Christmas, Elf! and many of them. [Takes up rat-trap and sets it.] Here's your Christmas mess, Satan's rats!

A VOICE. Curse not Christmas!

OLD MAN. I believe there are spirits about to-night—Ugh! it's the cold increasing; then the beams always creak, like an old ship. Here's your Christmas supper. Now perhaps you'll quit gnawing the bell-rope and eating up the tallow, you accursed pest!

A VOICE. Curse not Christmas!

OLD MAN. The spooks are at it again! Christmas eve—yes, yes! [Places rat-trap on the floor.] There! Now they have their portion. And now comes the turn of the feathered wretches. They must have grain, of course, so they can soil the tin roof for me. Such is life! The church wardens pay for it, so it's not my affair. But if I were to ask for an extra shilling two in wages—that they couldn't afford. That wouldn't be seen! But when one sticks out a grain-sheaf on a pole once a year, it looks generous. Ah, that one is a fine fellow!—and generosity is a virtue. Now, if we were to share and share alike, I should get back my porridge, which I gave to the elf. [Shakes sheaf and gathers the grain into a bowl.]

A VOICE. He robs Christmas! He robs Christmas!

OLD MAN. Now I'll put this thing on the pole so that it will look like a symbol, and as a symbol it will also be of service—for it shows what is not to be found within. [He puts sheaf through window and hangs it on pole, then shakes his fist at town below.] Oh, you old human pit down there! I spit on you! [Spits through window; comes down and sees the burning candle before the Virgin's picture.] This must be the boy's doings! The times are not such that one burns up candles needlessly. [Snuffs out light and puts the candle into his pocket.]

A VOICE. Woe! Woe! [Head of Virgin shakes three times and a bright ray of light darts out from the head.]

OLD MAN. [Shrinking.] Is hell let loose to-night?

A VOICE. Heaven!

OLD MAN. Pehr, Pehr! Where are you? My eyes! Light the candles—My son, my son!

VIRGIN'S IMAGE. My SON!

OLD MAN. [Groping his way toward the stairs.] My eyes! Hell-fire! [He rushes down the steps.]

[Two rats, Nisse and Nilla, come on right, one behind the other. They have mourning veils swathed about their tails.]

NISSE. I say, it smells like roast pig!

NILLA. Oh, I promise you! Be careful, Nisse! I see the trap over there. [Sits on hind legs.] 'Twas in that very trap that our little ones were lost! O dear, dear, dear!

NISSE. If we could only hit upon some trick to play on the bad old man it would do my bowels good! Can you see if he has left anything about which he values?

NILLA. Suppose we gnaw the ropes so the bells will tumble down on his head—

NISSE. Why, Nilla! you know that I have only one poor tooth left in my head.

NILLA. But I have two—and where there's a will there's—but you, you have no feeling for your children!

NISSE. Come now! we shan't quarrel on Christmas Eve.

NILLA. Hush! What have we here?

NISSE. A dish of porridge—

NILLA. Which the old man has left—

NISSE. For the elf. He's afraid of him!

NILLA. Now I know! We'll eat up the porridge so—

NISSE. The elf will get after him—

NILLA. And he can raise the mischief when he gets angry. [They are over by the dish now, and eating.]

NISSE. Oh, move along and make room for me!

NILLA. Hush! It creaks in the stairs.

NISSE. Now I see the bottom of the dish; there's the lump of butter!

NILLA. Help me with this corner.

NISSE. Ah!—now we'll wipe our mouths and run. [They scurry off left.]

[Elf slides down bell-rope.]

ELF. [Walks about and searches.] Where's my Christmas porridge? I scented its aroma a long way off. It will taste good to me on a cold night, like this. I hope he has given me a big lump of butter this year, since I have been so good to him. [Loosens belt.] There! get you ready, my stomach. I'll let out two holes in the belt, which will make it about right. [He sees dish.] Ah, ha! what's this? Empty dishes! What has come over the old man-hater? Has he grown stingy and arrogant, or does he mock me, when he sets out an empty dish! There has been porridge here [smells]—butter, too! Well, well, old man! I'm sorry for you, but I shall have to punish you. The elf is for the purpose of punishing and rewarding. I must sit down and think out some real Christmas gift. [Sits in chair.] Let me see! The old man shuts himself up in this place with his son, whom he wishes to shield from the evils and shams of the world. The old man has seen much of the world, and hates it; the young one has never been beyond the church door and has seen the world only from the tower. But I know that it tempts him, just because he has seen it like this—from a bird's-eye view. The old man has but one wish in life—that his son shall succeed him and thus be spared the struggles of life and the cruelty of men. It is this wish which I shall cross; it is his only vulnerable point. Well and good! I'll call his godmother. She shall take the boy in hand and show him all the glories of the world; afterwards, there will be nothing more for the old man to do in the matter. The dreams of youth—I know their powers. Well, then! [Blows a whistle.]

[Fairy dressed like an old witch, with brown cloak and cane, emerges from behind a post.]

FAIRY. Good evening, lad.

ELF. Good evening, old lady. Can you corrupt a young man?—Oh! understand me aright.

FAIRY. That depends—

ELF. It won't go in that costume! You see, it's a question of the old man's son.

FAIRY. Our Pehr?

ELF. Just he! Hush, old lady, I'm talking now! The boy is very dear to my heart—that he has been ever since his birth. We—you and I—stood sponsor for him, and we each have our duties. His education is being neglected; he has seen nothing of the world, although he is fifteen to-day. I want him to go out and look around so he will be a credit to us. Have you anything against it?

FAIRY. Nothing. But I fear that he will meet with difficulties out there which we cannot adjust, since our power does not extend beyond these church walls.

ELF. True; and I must search my brain for another idea. Ah—I have it! We'll each give him his godgift, which can serve him in all conditions of life.