The Miracle Worker

She'll live.

I can tell you now, I thought she wouldn't.

I've brought up two of them. | This is my wife's first.

She isn't battle-scarred yet.

Doctor?

Will my girl be all right?

By morning she'll be knockin' down | Captain Keller's fences again.

Is there nothing we should do?

Put up stronger fencin'. Hm?

Just let her get well. | She knows how better than we do.

These things come and go in infants. | Never know why.

Call it acute congestion | of the stomach and brain.

I'll see you to your buggy, Doctor.

Main thing is the fever's gone.

I never saw a baby with more vitality. | That's the truth.

Hush...

Don't you cry now.

You've been trouble enough.

"Call it acute congestion" indeed!

I don't see what's so cute about | a congestion just cos it's yours.

We'll have your father | run an editorial in his paper.

"The wonders of modern medicine. "

They don't know what they're curing | even when they cure it.

Men! Men and their battle scars.

We women have...

Helen?

Helen!

Cap'n!

Cap'n! Will you come?

Katie! What is it? What's happened?

- Katie! What is it? What's wrong? | - Look! She can't see.

Look at her eyes. She can't see.

Helen!

Or hear. | When I screamed she didn't blink.

- Not an eyelash! | - Helen!

- She can't hear you! | - Helen!

Helen!

I told you to let her be.

Arthur? Arthur, something | ought to be done for that child.

A refreshin' suggestion. What?

Why, this very famous | Perkins School in Boston.

They're just supposed to do wonders.

She's been to specialists. They couldn't | help her in Baltimore or Washington.

I think the Cap'n will write | to the Perkins School soon.

Katie, how many times | can you break your heart?

Any number of times, as long as there's | the least chance for her to see or hear.

- What, child? | - There isn't! I must finish here.

With your permission, Cap'n, I would | like to write to the Perkins School.

I said no, Kate.

Writing does no harm, Arthur.

- A little bitty letter to see if they can help. | - They can't.

We won't know that to be a fact | till after you write.

They can't.

Katie...

I might as well work in a hen yard.

- You really ought to put her away, Father. | - What?

- Some asylum. It's the kindest thing. | - She is your sister, James.

Half-sister and half... mentally defective.

She can't keep herself clean. | It's not pleasant to see her about.

Do you dare complain | of what you can see?

This discussion's at an end. The house | is at sixes and sevens over the child.

I want some peace here. I don't care how.

But we won't have it by rushin' about | the country to every new quack.

- I'm as sensible to this affliction as... | - Helen!

My buttons.

Eyes.

She wants the doll to have eyes.

My goodness me. I'm not decent.

She doesn't know better, Aunt Ev. | I'll sew 'em on again.

It's worth a couple of buttons, Kate. Look.

This child has more sense | than all these men Kellers,

if there's ever a way | to reach that mind of hers.

Helen!

Helen! You're not to do such things. | How can I make you understand?

Katie!

How can I get it | into your head, my darling?

Katie, she must be taught | some discipline.

Discipline an afflicted child? | Is it her fault?

I didn't say it was.

How can I teach her? | Beat her till she's black and blue?

It's not safe. There must be | some way of confinin' her.

In a cage? She's a growin' child. | She has to use her limbs.

Answer me one thing. | Is it fair to the baby?

Are you willing to put her away?

Now what?

She wants to talk like...

be like you and me.

Every day she slips further away.

I don't know how to call her back.

Rate this script:(0.00 / 0 votes)