The Loss of a Teardrop Diamond

- You up mighty early,

Miss Willow.

- I haven't been to bed yet.

- Stay in there. Stay.

- Hey.

- I noticed your car

was headed in.

- Yes, I'm still

in my party dress.

See?

- Let me out.

Ow!

- Come on out, Mr. Dobyne.

Don't let him bully you

that way.

- Come on out here, Dad.

Fisher wants to see you.

- Okay, okay.

- Careful, careful.

- Good morning.

- Miss Willow,

you know my father,

Mr. James Dobyne.

He's in charge

of your father's commissary.

Held the job

nearly two weeks now,

and that's a record for him.

That's the longest

he's held a job

since the Spanish-American War.

- Well, here he is

bright and early on a Monday.

- Yes, ma'am.

This here's my boy,

a Mr. James Dobyne V.

- I know your son,

Mr. Dobyne.

- That's good, Dad.

Blow your stinkin' hooch breath

in her face

so she can give

a complete description

of your condition

at 8:
00 this morning

to her father,

Mr. Alex Willow.

That'll fix everything up

real good.

- Mr. Dobyne,

I think your condition is fine.

I wish my condition this morning

was half as good.

- Jimmy, get in the car

and drive up to the house

with me.

I want you to do something

for me.

Will you let him go,

Mr. Dobyne?

I'll bring him back

in one hour.

- Why, sure, sure, Fisher.

Yeah, okay.

What I want tell you

is that I think

that I found out why

small planters in this country

don't like your daddy.

It's 'cause last spring,

he blown up the south end

of his levee

so the rest wouldn't break,

and consequently,

all the planters south

of his place were underwater.

Whew.

Your father's not popular

with them.

In fact, they hold him

personally responsible

for the drowning

of two white men

and one old crippled white lady

and five or six negroes.

- Mr. Dobyne,

my father knows about that,

but he didn't dynamite

that levee

without a telephone warning

to every place south of here.

Jimmy, come on.

Get in the car.

- Oh, I can't go car riding now,

Fisher.

- Just up to the house.

Will you, please?

I've got to ask you something.

Let's stop here.

I can't smoke in the house.

Apparently, my father's

selfish action last spring

with its...

tragic consequences

to a number of helpless persons

south of here

is very well known

in Memphis.

I wonder

if their moral objections

are as strong as mine.

I barely speak

to my father anymore.

But they find it convenient

to hold it against me, you see.

Oh, I'm sure they also resent

other things about me

probably even more:

my foreign education,

my tendency

to make sharp remarks

about things that strike me

as stupidly provincial.

I'm considered sarcastic.

I want to escape,

but since I have now supposedly

completed my education,

Aunt Fisher's determined

that I have this...

debut,

even though I am older than most

of the other debutantes,

who would never dream

of going to college.

And I have to go through with it

to please Aunt Fisher

so she won't leave $5 million

to the Episcopal Church

when she dies

but to me.

- Don't you have

enough money already?

- A person of my kind

never has enough money.

- Well, you don't mean

you're greedy, do you?

- No, I just know

that I'll have to buy

most everything that I want.

Why don't you look at me?

- I don't know what you want.

- You.

- Me?

- Yes.

- Why?

- To take me out in Memphis,

to escort me

to these agonizing parties.

- How can I take you

to these agonizing parties

and run the commissary

and watch out for Dad?

- I just need you nights,

two or three nights a week.

The rest of the time,

Aunt Fisher's lawyer will do.

- Well, surely he's not

your only prospect, Fisher.

- Auntie Fisher

would never permit me

to be seriously involved

with anyone outside

her circle of acquaintances,

either direct

or by reputation,

Jimmy.

I could have married

a titled Italian in Venice.

When I intimated

my infatuation with him,

Aunt Fisher cabled me,

"Come home at once. "

I started not to,

but, um...

practical considerations

seem to run in my blood

as well as...

sensual.

I hope you've listened to me

and understood me.

- Oh, yes.

I had a scholarship

to Ole Miss.

- I know.

Now, drive us

up to the house.

Jimmy.

Up here.

- Who's gonna measure me?

- I shall,

with your assistance.

Hold your arms out

for the tape.

Oh, take off

that sloppy old shirt.

Of course,

you're gonna need shirts,

evening shirts.

And, Jimmy, don't hold your arms

over your head

like this was a holdup.

Hold them straight out

to your sides like a cross.

Only don't suffer on it

so much.

- Fisher, there's one thing

I want you to know

about my old man.

He's a sincere,

honest person,

a stinker, yeah,

a real stinker,

but what he told you

about the local attitude

towards your father was meant-

it was meant good.

- Jimmy, will you please help me

measure your legs?

Hold the end of the tape

at the inside top

of your thigh while I-

- Yeah.

Were you listening to me,

Fisher, about my old man?

- Yes.

You said

that he was a stinker.

- Well,

I said he was a stinker,

but I said he was

a sincere, honest man.

Know what she done?

Measured me for clothes

to take her to Memphis parties.

- Garden pilgrims.

Garden pilgrims with dogs

not admitted.

No dogs can enter the gardens.

- Excuse me.

I am very sorry, madam,

but Miss Cornelia Fisher

cannot allow dogs

to enter her gardens,

because last fall,

Rate this script:0.0 / 0 votes