CHRISTMAS COMES TO GUS MCGRAW

A Nativity Play in One Act by Jewell Ellen Smith

 

Copyright © 1993 Jewell Ellen Smith.  First Performed at Ft. Rucker, Alabama, in 1992. Nonprofit groups may perform this drama without payment, but if you plan to perform it, please inform Jewell’s older son David at DSmith1204@aol.com, as her children like to keep tabs of how often each play is performed. All scripture quotations are from the King James Version.

 

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"Therefore the Lord himself shall give you a sign: Behold, a virgin shall conceive, and bear a son, and shall call his name Emmanuel..." Isaiah 7:14 "...which being interpreted is, God with us." Matthew 1:23

 

TIME: Christmas Eve afternoon, 1900.

PLACE: The general store in Three Creeks, Arkansas, a remote farming and sawmill settlement, not far from where the meandering Ouachita (“Wash-a-taw”) River turns south to join the Red River in Louisiana.

CHARACTERS:

Gus McGraw, proprietor of the only store in Three Creeks

Bo-Jack McGraw, son of Gus

Reverend Moss, a Methodist circuit rider, newly assigned to the Three Creeks church

Miss Fannie Slater, a veteran school teacher

Sugar Plum, Miss Fannie's lap dog

Hank Garner, a woodcutter

Ly-die, Hank's granddaughter

Mrs. Ophelia Greer (Miss Oaf), a housewife

Greer nieces: Ollie, Nellie, Sue

Sheriff Tatum

Willie Hopper, a handicapped resident of Three Creeks

Mr. Epps, a retired sawmill foreman

Joseph Crawford, a stranger passing through Three Creeks

Mary Love Crawford, Joseph's wife

Emmanuel, the Crawford baby

Bo-Jack's companions: Melchior, Balthasar

Church organist

Angel girls (7 small girls)

Shepherd boys (3 small boys)

SCENE: Gus McGraw, the prosperous and frugal proprietor of the general store in Three Creeks, is alone in his one-room shop--thinking mainly of making money. He is busy readying his merchandise for what he hopes will be a rush of customers from the nearby sawmill and the turpentine still. After all, it is payday at the mill, and, Christmas Eve. Gus anticipates many sales, big profits, as soon as the mill whistle blows for closing time. He stokes his pot-bellied heater with more wood, sweeps up the floor, re-dusts the counter, re-shines the large red apples he has on display as well as the smaller apples hidden under the counter. He opens a fresh box of peppermint candy, counts the sticks and places them in the showcase. Now and then Gus happily sings snatches of "Dixie."

As country stores go, Gus' place is well stocked. Against the far wall (right stage) are three bales of hay. On the side wall hang carpenter tools, small farm implements, kerosene lanterns. A wooden bench holds three kerosene lamps, two of which belong to the local church. Near the bench is a half-empty can of kerosene.

In one corner Gus has arranged a variety of toys, including small red wagons and a dozen beautifully dressed dolls, still in their boxes.

On a long counter (in center stage) there is a hoop of cheese. Also, cans of sardines, crackers, chewing tobacco, Prince Albert smoking tobacco, and snuff. On the floor are sacks of flour, a basket of fresh eggs, a container of English walnuts and Brazil nuts, and a box of oranges. A glass display case is filled with dried raisins and candy.

The store is so constructed that there is a window behind the wood heater, not far from the front door. A person seated beside the heater could look out the window and see each customer as he or she comes up the road. Further furnishings include a yard-long measuring stick and a ledger in which Gus keeps detailed records of all purchases made "on a credit." There are two well-worn straight chairs in the room, one or two nail kegs which serve as chairs, a spittoon, and a small stack of firewood.

 

SCRIPT

GUS: singing loudly, off-key, as he remembers "Dixie," not as it is

Oh, I wish I was in the Land of Cotton,

Old times there can't be forgotten,

Look away, look away, Dixie Land!

In Dixie Land when I was born,

'Twas early on a frosty morn ...

Hoo-ray! Hoo-ray!

In Dixie Land I'll take my stand ...

Away, away, away down South ...

Oh, I wish I was--

Enter Bo-Jack, a happy, husky 12-year-old

BO-JACK: Papa?

GUS: without turning around Yeah. What is it, Bo-Jack?

BO-JACK: Mamma said for you to send her a dozen eggs.

GUS: A dozen eggs? Good Lord! What for?

BO-JACK: Mamma's gotta make another cake. A pound cake.

GUS: Another pound cake? To my certain knowledge, your ma baked three cakes and four pies yesterday! Not to mention that big ham she wouldn't let me cut!

BO-JACK: She said that--

GUS: ‘Course I know tomorrow is Christmas Day, an' your ma's relations will be swarmin' in; an' them folks eat like horses! But three cakes is enough.

Begins sacking up eggs, using the mesh see-through bag which Bo-Jack has brought

I could 'a sold these here eggs. Your ma is gonna put us in the poor house. I swear she is!

BO-JACK: She said tell you the circuit rider's comin.'

GUS: Oh, no! That's all I need: a preacher on my hands! That new circuit rider stayed at our house in November. It couldn't be our turn again--not so soon.

BO-JACK: All I know is Miss Fannie Slater called Mamma on the phone an' said could we keep the new preacher tonight 'cause it was s'posed to be Miss Oaf's turn; but her husband is ailin' an' besides her brother has done come up from Louisiana (Looz-anna) and brought his gang of little girls.

GUS: Then, your ma said-- I can jist hear her. makes voice go high and sweet "Why sure, Miss Fannie! Me an' Gus will be glad to keep Reverend Moss at our house! After all, like I keep tellin' Gus, the Bible cautions us to be hospitable for we never know when we're gonna 'entertain angels unawares!’"

BO-JACK: That's ‘zactly what Mamma said! Papa, how’d you know?

GUS: Me and your ma have been married 20 years. That's how. Here. hands over sack of eggs Be careful 'cause hens don't lay so good in the winter time.

Turns to resume work

BO-JACK: lingering at the doorway Papa?

GUS: What now?

BO-JACK: eagerly, with much anticipation Papa! late this evenin' the big boys are gonna dress up an' put on masks an' be "The Fantastic Riders!" Can I saddle ol' Jake an' ride with 'em? Please!

GUS: Well-- I--

BO-JACK: Charlie Goode said if you'll let me go, I can be one of the kings. That's what they're gonna play: "The Three Kings." They won't do nothin' but ride around an' sing-- like they always do. An' maybe shoot off a few firecrackers.

Gus doesn't answer

Please, can I go? I'm big! An' it's Christmas Eve!

GUS: with some reluctance Yeah, Son. I reckon you can go. You are gettin' pretty big. An', like you say, it is Christmas Eve.

BO-JACK: Whoo--pee-e! Dashes out so fast the eggs bang against the door; Bo-Jack merely puts his hand under the dripping sack and keeps going.

GUS: calling after his son You behave yourself!

Turns to put the last stick of wood into the heater, begins talking to himself-- rather wistfully

Ah, me! Young 'uns! I wouldn't mind being a saplin' of a boy again myself. My pa let me ride with "The Fantastic Riders."

We didn't call ourselves that but we romped around. We'd go from house to house, singin' an' cuttin' up. Sometimes our teacher would help us act out a little skit. Folks would give us good things to eat. Or maybe a few nickels an' pennies. Then we'd be on our way to the next house. Ah, that was fun. Then. For we were young. We thought we were celebratin' Christmas. Why we didn't ask ourselves. Now-a-days, since I'm a grown man, I do ask myself why folks make such a to-do, such a big fuss, over Christmas.

I say: "Why celebrate?"

Things in this old world look pretty bleak to me. Times are tough. Hard. It's all a man can do to make a livin'. On top of that, diseases an' disasters come like clockwork. Woe an' worry--tribulations--are as sure as night an' day. You can count on 'em comin'.

So, why?

Why celebrate?

There's nothin' to celebrate!

Oh, well. Christmas will come an go--like it always does. I reckon I ought not complain. In fact, I should be the happiest man in Three Creeks 'cause I stand to take in a heap of money today! Folks buy extra at Christmas.

Proudly looks over merchandise, straightens doll boxes

I'll sell ever' last one of these here fancy dolls--even if I did mark 'em up sky high. All these toys, too. An' these here nuts a' apples an' oranges. Before the sun goes down there won't be a dried raisin left--much less a stick of peppermint candy. I wish I could'a laid in more firecrackers and sparklers. They always sell.

Thank goodness today is pay-day over at the sawmill. At the turpentine still, too. All them fellers will buy stuff for their young 'uns--besides flour an' sugar an' coffee an' tobacco, an' all that. An’ shucks, they can buy! Them guys git good wages: a dollar a day!

Peers out the window

Looks like it's gonna git dark early. Or, could be it's cloudin' up to snow. I hope to heaven we don't git no freezin' rain.

Wipes dust from window panes, looks out again

For goodness sake! Here comes that circuit rider now! He's hours too early! I wonder why the reverend drives a double buggy? Looks to me like feeding two horses instead of one would be a double expense. Unnecessary.

Now that man will set here in this store till closin' time. An' I'll have to talk to him the blessed evenin'.

I never know what to say to a preacher, 'specially one like the Reverend Moss. I ain't got nothin' against the old feller. I jist don't know what to say to "a man of the cloth," as my pa used to say.

Maybe I can think of something for him to do. Or maybe my customers will keep me real busy.

Enter Rev. Moss, a venerable, dignified fellow whose many years and charges have made him wise, tolerant, good-humored. He wears his clerical vestments, carries a Bible and a small valise.

REV. MOSS: Good evening, Mr. McGraw!

GUS: Evenin', Reverend. Come on in an' take a chair. An' please jist call me "Gus." Not Mister McGraw!

REV. MOSS: Of course, if that's what you like.

GUS: You're early this time.

REV. MOSS: Yes. I maintain it's better to be early rather than late. So all these 49 years I've been a preacher I've made it a policy as I go on the rounds of my churches that I get to my destination a bit early--especially in the winter, when the days are short and darkness sets in before we're ready.

GUS: I see.

REV. MOSS: Now today I wanted to get to Three Creeks by mid-afternoon for several reasons. One is I need to do a bit more work on my Christmas Day sermon.

GUS: Well, in that case, set right over here by the window. moves chair That'll give you light to read by an' you'll stay warm too--that is if this dad-gummed heater don't quit on me. I'm plumb nearly out of wood. pokes up fire

REV. MOSS: Thank you. You're very considerate. The second reason I'm early is that nobody from the church notified me where I'm to lodge tonight. So, I--

GUS: I can tell you that. You're to stay at my house. My wife, Minnie, just sent me word she's baking you a cake.

REV. MOSS: Ah, a cake! That’s mighty kind of Miss Minnie. It'll be a pleasure to break bread with you and your family.

GUS: Don't mention it.

REV. MOSS: Let me see now-- There was a third reason for me to get to Three Creeks early. It was-- Uh-- I-- Right now it slips my mind, but it'll come to me. It'll come. Ah, yes! Now I recollect.

Miss Fannie Slater wanted me to meet with her and her school children so I could hear them practice their little Christmas songs for services tomorrow night. Yes, that was it: Listen to the children.

You know, Gus, it is the duty of grownups to pay attention to children. We older ones must encourage the younger ones. Teach them, too. Right from Wrong. Good from Evil. All that. We must teach them about Christmas, especially.

And, like Miss Fannie Slater says, encouraging children helps in teaching them.

GUS: Miss Fannie ought to know. She has been teaching school here in Three Creeks for 20 years. Maybe longer.

Miss Fannie is quite an unusual person. For one thing, she's crazy about dogs. An' she always keeps her a little shaggy lap dog. Soon as one konks out, she gits her another one. An' ever' blessed one she names "Sugar Plum"!

REV. MOSS: "Sugar Plum"! How quaint. Harmless, though, I'd say.

Opens valise, takes out papers

I assume that Miss Fannie will send me word what time the children are to practice. Meantime, I must make a few additional notes on my sermon.

GUS: Yes, Sir, Reverend, you do that.

REV. MOSS: more to himself than to Gus This year I hope to give my Christmas message a deep dimension. Tell why the Christ Child came and what the true meaning of Emmanuel is.

GUS: Emmanuel?

REV. MOSS: That's a name out of the Old Testament. Translated, its literal meaning is "God With Us." opens Bible

GUS: If you say so.

REV. MOSS: This is our first Christmas in the new century. But we must hold fast to the Old Story. I think I'll use a quotation from Isaiah, and then--

GUS: Now, Reverend, you go right ahead an' take down your notes. Once in a while, if it won't be any trouble to you, please glance out the window an' tell me if you see any customers comin' up the road. An' tell me who it is.

REV. MOSS: I'll be glad to.

GUS: That'll help me a lot. If it's somebody I know is "poor as Job's turkey," I'll hide these big apples under the counter so as not to tempt 'em. An' I’ll bring out the little apples.

REV: My, my, Gus, you seem to think of everything.

GUS: Reverend, I've got a question for you. All my life I've been hearing about being "as poor as Job's turkey." An' I've heard about being "as poor as a church mouse." Now which do you figure was in worse financial condition, the turkey or the mouse?

REV. MOSS: after taking a long breath, which is almost a gasp I don't have the answer to that! All I can tell you is that in my 49 years as a minister I never saw a mouse in a church. Now about Job's turkey:

Job did have 7,000 sheep,

3,000 camels,

500 yoke of oxen,

500 female donkeys,

so that "he was the greatest of all the men of the East."

But he didn't have a turkey!

GUS: I was jist wondering.

Rev. Moss looks out the window.

REV. MOSS: Here comes a woman in a buggy. But she's got her head and face so wrapped up I can't make out who she is.--my, my, I think it's beginning to sleet--Ah, now I can see a little dog sitting beside the lady. So, it must be Miss Fannie Slater.

GUS: Right. That'll be Miss Fannie an' Sugar Plum. Doubt if she'll buy anything. But you never can tell.

Good Lord! The lamps! I clean forgot them lamps!

REV. MOSS: The lamps?

GUS: The two church lamps. Miss Fannie brought 'em in here Wednesday an' told me to fill 'em up. Said she'd pay for ever' drop of the coal oil, herself. An' me, I jist let 'em slip my mind.

Hurries toward back of the store, muttering to himself

I hope Miss Fannie ain't changed her mind an' is gonna ask me to donate this coal oil to the church! Donations can put a man in the poor house!

MISS FANNIE: off stage Sugar Plum! Hold still! How do you think I can wrap you up if you squirm and twist like a wiggle worm? Hold still!

Enter Miss Fannie, with her dog, a satchel and a lap robe in her arms. She is so absorbed in trying to fold the lap robe around the little dog that she doesn't notice Rev. Moss. From the doorway, she can't see Gus. Her cloak is sprinkled with sleet.

I don't know why you object to being wrapped up! Don't you know this is the coldest day of the year! Sleet's coming down like blazes and it's all over you! See all these little pieces of ice? brushes dog's fur furiously Be still! If somebody was trying to brush the sleet off of me and keep me warm, I'd be glad of it!

Gus? Gus McGraw? Are you here?

GUS: calling out I'm here! I'm back here, fillin' up your lamps!

REV. MOSS: Good evening, Miss Fannie. stands

MISS FANNIE: turning quickly Why-- Why, good evening, Reverend Moss! I didn't see you sitting over there by the window. I noticed a double buggy outside, but I didn't think of it being yours.

REV. MOSS: Won't you take this chair? I believe it's a bit more comfortable than the nail kegs.

MISS FANNIE: No, no, keep your seat. I don't have time to sit down. I'm on my way up to the church to meet the children and just stopped by to pick up the lamps. Looks like you're busy with paperwork.

REV. MOSS: It's my Christmas sermon for tomorrow. Tell me, Miss Fannie--you know the Three Creeks people well, and this charge is still new to me--do you think the congregation will understand if I point out to them what the old Hebrew prophet Isaiah said was the reason the Christ Child was to come?

MISS FANNIE: Oh, goodness, Reverend! Don't ask me! I must confess I don't have the faintest notion of what Isaiah said. But I'm sure you can explain it to the congregation. You make Bible things pretty plain.

REV. MOSS: You're kind to say so.

MISS FANNIE: Be still, Sugar Plum! You have my curiosity stirred up, Reverend. What did Isaiah say?

REV. MOSS: Plenty! A person could spend a lifetime on what Isaiah foretold. But, simply put, mainly what he prophesied about the long-awaited Messiah was this:

Counts on his fingers as he makes points

He would be called "Emmanuel." As you probably know, that is "God With Us."

He would have the Spirit of the Lord God upon him and be anointed to do four specific things:

to preach good tidings to the poor,

to bind up the broken hearted,

to comfort those that mourn,

to proclaim liberty to the captives and the recovering of sight to the blind.

Even more! In other words, Miss Fannie, Isaiah promised that God was coming to be with us in all of life's afflictions. Now Isaiah lived 700 years before--

Gus interrupts

GUS: loudly Here you are, Miss Fannie! Both lamps filled to the brim.

MISS FANNIE: That's fine.

GUS: Do you want to pay cash now? Or, do you want to charge it to your account? I’ll be glad to mark it down in my ledger. Picks up, opens ledger. Twelve cents for the pint an’ a half.

MISS FANNIE: I was hoping maybe you’d be glad to donate that little bit of coal oil to our program tomorrow night.

GUS: Now, now, Miss Fannie-- You-- You know-- You know uh-- You know business is business, an’--

MISS FANNIE: Never mind, Gus. I’ll pay it.

As Fannie is placing the 12¢ on the counter and Gus is scooping it up, Hank Garner, the woodcutter, calls from off stage.

HANK: very loudly Hey, Gus! I’ve got your firewood out here!

REV. MOSS: Peering through window There’s a man and a child in a wagon piled high with wood.

GUS: That’s Hank Garner. It’s about time he got here with that cord of wood. He promised it last week.

HANK: Still offstage Come show me where to dump it!

GUS: Calling out to Hank I’m comin’! Turns to Miss F. and Revered M. Y’all excuse me. Raises voice again Hank, don’t you dump it nowhere! Stack it up straight so’s I can measure it!

Starts out, comes back to grab up his yardstick; turns again to Miss F. and Reverend M.

Hank Garner is an honest man. But he might ‘a forgot that a cord of wood ain’t a cord unless it’s four feet by four feet by eight feet! Exits as he speaks

MISS FANNIE: Shaking her head Ah, there’s nobody like Gus McGraw. You’ve got to know him a long time before you can overlook the greedy streak in him. Gus makes me think of the old saying about the greedy man and the flea.

REV. MOSS: I reckon I haven’t heard that saying.

MISS FANNIE: Well, this old miser was such a money-grabber folks said: "He’d skin a flea for hide and fat!"

REV. MOSS: My, my. -- Tell me about this woodcutter, Mr. Hank Garner. I don’t believe I’ve seen him in church, but I did notice his name on the roll. I’ve been studying the membership list so I can soon call everybody by name.

MISS FANNIE: Mr. Garner and his granddaughter are by themselves now, since Mrs. Garner died. They're fine folks.

REV. MOSS: You used to serve as church clerk, didn’t you, Miss Fannie?

MISS FANNIE: Oh, yes. For 17 years.

REV. MOSS: Then maybe you can explain why Gus McGraw's name is listed on the roll three times! It must be a mistake.

MISS FANNIE: laughing No, Reverend, that's no mistake. There are three Gus McGraws!

REV. MOSS: Three? My! My!

MISS FANNIE: They're all first cousins--named for their old grandfather. You'll find out that the woods is full of McGraws.

REV. MOSS: Looks like having three men named "Gus McGraw" in a small settlement like Three Creeks would lead to considerable confusion.

MISS FANNIE: delighted to share a juicy bit of information, she moves closer to the preacher and lowers her voice No. There's never a mixup.

The first one is known as "Singing" Gus McGraw because every summer he gets out and organizes two-week singing schools. That is, he teaches people how to sing by shaped notes. Then, too, he goes to lots of singing conventions. So the name "Singing Gus" fits him.

The second cousin is known as "Lying" Gus McGraw because you can't believe a word the man says. "Lying Gus" fits him.

And the third Gus, our storekeeper, is known as "Greedy" Gus McGraw-- for obvious reasons!

REV. MOSS: My, my! What can I say? I've noticed through the years, Miss Fannie, that there's no such thing as perfection. Not in people, places, or things--especially people.

MISS FANNIE: That's true.

REV. MOSS: Many factors determine a man's personality, his attitude toward life--his whole character. Maybe this third Gus will change.

MISS FANNIE: Maybe. But I doubt it. Seriously doubt it. Reverend Moss, I've heard that in the Bible it says a leopard cannot change his spots. Is that true? Does the Bible actually say "a leopard cannot change his spots"?

REV. MOSS: Well, yes, in a sense, it does. If I remember rightly, it is the prophet Jeremiah who uses that figure of speech. I'll tell you what: I'll look up that quotation, Miss Fannie. When I come back in January, I'll be able to show you exactly where to find it.

MISS FANNIE: Good.

REV. MOSS: warming to his subject Ah, yes, the Bible indicates that a leopard cannot change his spots, but fortunately it does not say a man cannot be changed. On the contrary, the Scriptures teach that a person can become "a new creature."

Miss Fannie nods her head.

Now that's another of the great truths I must put in my Christmas message. When the Christ Child came to Bethlehem, "old things passed away; all things became new!"

The world hasn't been the same since!

Oh, my, my, Miss Fannie! I mustn’t bore you with my sermon notes. Sometimes I get sort of carried away!

Tell me about the program you've planned for the children.

MISS FANNIE: It will be short and simple. Traditional. The children will sing. And, as always, we'll have the Bethlehem stable with Mary and Joseph and the Baby Jesus, and the shepherds and the three kings.

REV. MOSS: That's good. As I remarked to Mr. Gus, earlier, this is our first Christmas in the new Twentieth Century, but we must hold fast to the Old Story. Centuries come and centuries go, while God stays the same. Forever.

MISS FANNIE: Yes. Of course now I can't guarantee how the Three Kings will look! The older boys borrowed the king costumes to wear tonight when they go romping around as "The Fantastic Riders."

But they said they would be careful--especially with the golden crowns.

REV. MOSS: Oh, I'm sure they will. As careful as boys can be.

MISS FANNIE: I promised the children that you'd come hear them practice, but--

REV. MOSS: I will. I'll go with you right now. starts to get up

MISS FANNIE: No, no, the weather has turned off so cold and bad you ought not be out in it. You could catch your death.

You see, the church hasn't been heated since the fourth Sunday in November; so it's like an iceberg. I'll tell you what: we'll let the little singers come rehearse right here in the store.

REV. MOSS: But won't it be a lot of trouble to get the organ brought down here? I know it folds up, but still it's--

MISS FANNIE: That's no problem. The big boys can bring it, without batting an eye.

REV. MOSS: settling back in his chair If you think that's best, it'll be fine with me.

MISS FANNIE: Well, good. Sugar Plum, does it suit you? Of course! Poor puppy, your little paws are still like ice.

Turns, picks up one of the lamps

I think I'll leave these lamps here till later. Sugar Plum, if I didn't have to worry with you, I could take the lamps.

Starts out the door, collides with Ly-die, who is entering with an armload of firewood; one or two sticks spill to the floor.

LY-DIE: Oops! Hi, Miss Fannie! I didn't see you.

MISS FANNIE: Well, hello, Ly-die! That's quite a turn of wood you've got there.

LY-DIE: Yes, 'um. Grandpa Hank said bring in enough to last Mr. Gus till closin' time. So that's what I'm doin’.

Dumps sticks near heater, brushes off her sleeves.

MISS FANNIE: Reverend Moss, this is Ly-die. She’s Mr. Hank Garner's granddaughter. Ly-die, this is Reverend Moss, who's our new pastor.

LY-DIE: Hi!

REV. MOSS: I'm pleased to make your acquaintance, Ly-die.

MISS FANNIE: I'll be back in a little while. exits, still fretting over Sugar Plum

REV. MOSS: Ly-die, do you live near here?

LY-DIE: No, Sir. Grandpa Hank's house is quite a piece from here. It's way down on the State Line Road jist past a place they call Little Egypt.

REV. MOSS: Little Egypt?

LY-DIE: Little Egypt is pretty close to Oak Grove. That's where me and Grandpa Hank live. It's not far from the river.

REV. MOSS: I see. I've never been down as far as the State Line Road, or, the Ouachita River. You see, this is the first time I've had a charge in this part of Arkansas. I wonder how Little Egypt got its name. Do you know?

LY-DIE: No, Sir, I ain't got no idea. But Oak Grove got its name 'cause there's a jillion oak trees growin' on ever' hill. More'n you can count!

All them trees is how come Grandpa Hank got started cuttin' an sellin' firewood. He says oak is the best burnin' wood in the world.

REV. MOSS: He's right. It burns slow, puts out a lot of heat.

LY-DIE: Grandpa don't like to sell to Mr. Gus McGraw. He don't want to pay cash. He wants Grandpa to take the whole price out in trade.

REV. MOSS: Yes, I'm sure he does.

LY-DIE: Today, Grandpa aims to buy a heap of things--'specially oranges and apples and nuts and stuff for Santa Claus to put in my stocking.

REV. MOSS: Good for your grandpa!

LY-DIE: But I ain't a little young 'un no more!

How can I tell Grandpa I'm too big to hang up my stocking?

REV. MOSS: Don't try to tell him, Ly-die. Let your grandpa fix for Santa Claus. He enjoys it.

Did you ever hear the legend of how our custom of hanging up stockings on Christmas Eve got started?

LY-DIE: Got started? I thought Santa Claus has always been comin'.

REV. MOSS: No. Not always. I'll tell you about it. But first, maybe I should explain that the name "Santa Claus" is a corruption of "Saint Nicholas." That is, it is based on the name "Saint Nicholas."

Ly-die pulls a nail keg closer to Rev. Moss, sits down to listen.

LY-DIE: I never heard of anybody named Saint Nicholas.

REV. MOSS: It all started way back in the fourth century AD in what is now called Asia Minor, in the town of Myra. Living near Myra was a father and mother named Epiphanes and Johane. And they had a son named Nicholas. They were wonderful people. Rich. Religious.

Nicholas was such a good and devout young fellow that he was chosen to be a bishop, while he was still just a boy. When he became a man, Nicholas used his wealth to help many people.

He loved to give his money away--secretly--to those he discovered to be in need. Nobody ever saw him handing out bags of gold. He would toss the bags through a window at night, or leave the gold on the doorstep or some place like that.

In time, Nicholas was made a saint, and he became almost a mythical figure. Yet he was a real person. Stories and more stories are told about his secret acts of kindness. Once he saved a group of schoolboys from death. He rescued a boatload of drowning sailors. He even stooped to feed a notorious band of starving thieves and robbers.

LY-DIE: Goodness gracious!

REV. MOSS: The most famous tale about the generosity of the legendary Saint Nicholas--told and re-told a thousand times--had to do with a desperately poor man who had three lovely daughters, all of the age to be married.

The problem was the father had no money with which to arrange for their weddings, nothing to give them as dowries. In fact, he didn't even have money to buy food for his three beautiful girls.

As the days passed by, the father became frantic. Finally, one bitter winter night after the girls had gone to sleep, the old father sat by the fireplace, wondering what to do. He told himself that something had to be done. He had been out all day, trudging through the rain and mud, looking for work. There was nothing. As he pulled off his wet boots and socks and laid them out on the hearth to dry, he decided he would just have to sell his three daughters into slavery. Better that than to starve to death.

Tears ran down the old man's cheeks as he stared into the fire. Slowly the fire died out. He dozed off to sleep.

When he woke, it was morning. And there, in the top of one of his socks lay three bags of gold! Each bag was black with soot and ashes! By that, he knew that Saint Nicholas had tossed the gold down the chimney and that all three bags just happened to land in his sock.

The girls were saved! Each had a fine wedding! And their story was repeated over and over again until it became the custom for parents to tell their youngsters that their presents at Christmas time surely must be from Saint Nicholas--or Santa Claus, as we say in this country.

So now, it is a tradition--a harmless tradition, I believe--for children to hang up their stockings on Christmas Eve to catch whatever Santa Claus tosses down the chimney!

LY-DIE: with delight My stocking is always stuffed! And there's always three oranges.

REV. MOSS: The oranges stand for the three bags of gold!

LY-DIE: I guess they do! notices doll display on the wall Oh! Look! Look at the dolls! runs to examine dolls Whooo-o-o-eee! What dolls! They're the prettiest things I ever saw in my life! I wish--

Enter Gus and Hank, arguing loudly.

HANK: Gus, that don't make sense!

GUS: It does too make sense! Cash is out of the question!

HANK: I ain't askin' all cash!

GUS: That's what you said!

HANK: You better wash out your ears! What I said was you ought to pay me cash for the wood, but--

GUS: Me and you both will come out a heap better if you take the price 'a the wood out in trade! Like I told you!

HANK: Dammit, man! I say fifty-fifty! Half in cash. Half in trade. I don't know how the hell you think--

GUS: Watch your tongue, Hank! There sets the preacher--in case you hadn't noticed!

HANK: Preacher? whirls around, grabs off hat Oh, uh-- Uh-- Good evenin', Reverend. I, uh-- Uh-- Me and Gus here are just havin' our usual friendly argument. It don't mean we--

REV. MOSS: Think nothing of it.

GUS: My only concern is that in any deal I make I jist don't want to head myself toward the poor house!

HANK: Hush about the poor house, Gus! Come on and sack me up a pound of English walnuts and Brazil nuts, mixed; six apples and six oranges, and two sticks of peppermint candy. And some dried raisins.

And, I'll take one of them coal oil lanterns you got hanging up back there--the red one. Then cut me a thick rasher of cheese. And put some oil in the lantern. In January I'll be back to collect the rest.

GUS: haughtily Yes, Sir! Mister Hank! turns to gather up goods

Ly-die runs to her grandfather

LY-DIE: Grandpa Hank?

HANK: Yes, Sugar? What is it?

LY-DIE: Come see these pretty dolls!

HANK: Dolls?

LY-DIE: Hangin' right over here. leads Hank to display Ain't they pretty?

HANK: Well, yes, I guess so. But now, Sugar, you're gettin' too big to play with dolls! Entirely too big. Dolls are for little girls.

LY-DIE: wistfully If I had me one of them, I wouldn't play with it. I'd jist look at it.

REV. MOSS: peering out the window Gus, here come some more customers: a woman ridin' side-saddle on a bay mare, with a pile of little children sitting up behind the saddle.

The lady is holding some sort of a cage. turns to Ly-die Come look, Ly-die. Maybe you can tell who it is.

Ly-die hurries to window

LY-DIE: It's Miss Oaf! An' her three little nieces.

REV. MOSS: Yes, of course. Miss Ophelia Greer. I should have recognized her.

GUS: to himself Miss Oaf? Oh, Lord, help me! She is one hard lady to deal with!

Snatches up basket of big apples, throws a towel over them, hides them behind counter, pushes smaller apples to a conspicuous place.

I'll bet my right arm she's got a chicken in that cage! She'll want ever'thing in this store. raises voice Hank, here's your stuff.

HANK: taking lantern, sack of fruit, etc. All right, Gus.

GUS: No hard feelings?

HANK: No. No hard feelings, you old skinflint. It's Christmas Time. Come on, Ly-die. We've got to hurry so as to get home before dark. two start toward door

REV. MOSS: Mister Garner, I hope you and your granddaughter will be able to come to services tomorrow.

HANK: If we can, Reverend. If we can. You know I live a far piece from here, way down close to Little Egypt. Not more'n a mile from the Ouachita River.

REV. MOSS: Yes, I know.

Hank exits. Ly-die lingers, looking at the dolls again, running her fingers over their ribbons and lace. Timidly, she approaches Rev. Moss.

LY-DIE: I liked that story about Saint-- Saint-- What was his name?

REV. MOSS: Nicholas. I'm glad you liked it. At church tomorrow we'll have the real Christmas Story about the Baby Jesus. That's the greatest story in all the world.

LY-DIE: Yes, Sir. exits, running Wait for me, Grandpa Hank!

Gus grabs a large cloth from beneath the counter and quickly drapes it over all the dolls.

REV. MOSS: I see you're covering up the dolls. Are you getting ready to close up for the day?

GUS: Oh, no. Not for hours yet.

REV. MOSS: Then why are you hanging a cloth over your doll display?

GUS: Well, Reverend, I-- You see-- It's like this: I know-- Dadgummit, Reverend, I may as well tell you the truth. I wouldn't tell no lie to no preacher!

It's this way: Miss Oaf an' her husband are poor people. I mean real poor. He hasn't been able to hit a lick of work in years. Why Miss Oaf married that old down 'n out feller nobody can figure out. Oh, they're fine, honest folks, understand, but jist plain ain't got nothin' in the way of money. An' if Miss Oaf was to see them dolls, she'd want to buy three of 'em for her little nieces. So, being as she can't afford 'em, it's best she don't never see 'em. Do you understand what I mean?

REV. MOSS: Yes, Gus, I think I do. shakes his head, murmurs to himself More's the pity.

Enter Miss Oaf, trailed by three small girls, all bundled up, with scarves tied over their heads. The largest girl carries a worn-out basket with 11 eggs in it. The second child carries a fresh bunch of turnip greens half as big as she is. The smallest girl holds a bright red strip of cloth, which is tied around a wad of green onions. Miss Oaf has balanced on her hip what looks like a homemade bird cage with a live hen in it.

MISS OAF: very cheerfully Good evenin', Reverend. Evenin', Gus. Girls, say "Good evening!'"

THREE GIRLS: in unison, dutifully. "Good evenin'!"

REV. MOSS: Why, good evening, Miss Ophelia, and Little Ladies.

GUS: Evenin', Miss Oaf. Girls. What can I do for you, Miss Oaf?

MISS OAF: setting down cage. Whew! This hen is heavy. Just a minute, Gus. Girls, put your things here on the counter so Mister Gus can see 'em. Then I want you three to come sit down by Reverend Moss. And maybe he'll tell you a Bible story, or something, while I talk to Mister Gus. And you can get warmed up at the same time.

Brushes sleet from children's wraps. Children place eggs, turnip greens, onions on counter--with the assistance of Miss Oaf, She leads them over to Rev. Moss.

Reverend, these are my nieces: taps each child on head to indicate which is which Ollie, Nellie, and Sue.

They're from way down in Louisiana. (Looz-anna) They're going to spend Christmas with us. In fact, they'll be visiting for twelve whole days.

REV. MOSS: How nice. It always warms the heart to have children in the house at Christmas Time.

Miss Oaf turns to Gus, Reverend continues talking to children.

Speaking of visiting twelve days, I'll bet you little Louisiana Ladies didn't know that a long, long time ago people celebrated Christmas for twelve whole days--from about Christmas Eve till January 6. They frolicked all the time and feasted day and night.

OLLIE: They did?

REV. MOSS: Sit down right over here, and while your Aunt Ophelia is busy, I'll tell you about the Christmas in Bethlehem!

Girls sit in semi-circle, backs to audience. Reverend M. shifts his chair so that they form a tight group which the audience can forget as the spotlight focuses attention on Gus and Miss Oaf.

MISS OAF: Now, Gus, I've got some things here to trade you.

GUS: Miss Oaf, you know how I--

MISS OAF: Don't say a word till I finish tellin' you what I want to say. What I want to say is this:

The ox is sort of in the ditch at our house, what with having my brother and his children come unexpected like. So, I've got to have some things for them--startin' with a sack of flour. 'Cause, you see, Gus, I don't want the children thinking we're so poor we have to eat cornbread for breakfast!

Not on Christmas mornin'! I've got to bake biscuits. You can see that, can't you?

GUS: Sure, I see. Now, about the eggs you brought. I count only--

MISS OAF: Just wait till I finish tellin' you what I've got to have, and then we'll talk about the nice eggs and the greens and onions, and this fine, fat layin' hen!

I've got to have apples and oranges and nuts and three sticks of candy for Santa to put in their little stockings. That will--

GUS: You could tell ‘em Santa Claus didn’t know they had come up to Three Creeks. They’d understand that.

MISS OAF: outraged Gus McGraw! In all my born'd days I ain't never seen the likes of you!

GUS: It was just a suggestion. I didn't mean it! I didn't mean it!

MISS OAF: Well, you can keep such suggestions to yourself! Now the third thing I need is some coal oil to put in my lamp. I'm going to teach the girls about the long-time-ago custom of placing a lamp in the window on Christmas Eve to guide the Christ Child on his way.

GUS: I'm plumb out of oil, Miss Oaf. Honest, I am. I sold the last drop to Hank Garner less than ten minutes ago.

MISS OAF: I see some lamps settin' over there! Full of oil. I'll just buy one of them--lamp and oil.

GUS: Them lamps ain't mine. They belong to the church. Miss Fannie left 'em here. Now that lantern hangin' yonder is empty. 'Course I've got my store lamp, but I've got to use it tonight. I'm stayin' open late.

MISS OAF: Well, all right. Maybe you've got some candles.

GUS: No. No candles.

MISS OAF: Oh, goodness. Well, I'll have to think of some way to make a light for the Christ Child. pauses Gus, I heard that you had a nice selection of dolls this year. My little nieces are--

GUS: You don't see no dolls, do you?

MISS OAF: No, I don't see none.

GUS: with egg basket in hand Now, about these here eggs you brought. I don't think--

MISS OAF: There are eleven eggs in that basket. And this hen I brought is goin' to lay egg number 12 tomorrow to make you a full dozen.

GUS: Miss Oaf, how in the great wide world do you know this hen is gonna lay an egg tomorrow? Did she tell you?

MISS OAF: Don't be sarcastic, Gus McGraw! That hen is the best layer in my yard. Since the first day of December she has laid a nice, big egg ever' other day. She laid one yesterday and she will produce another one tomorrow!

Besides, I'm going to trade the hen herself to you. You can keep her, or, re-sell her to some of the sawmill fellers--along with these nice turnip greens and this nice bunch of fresh green onions.

The only other things I need, besides the flour and the stuff for the girls' stockings, is a pound of rice and a little bit of sugar. An' maybe a thin sliver of cheese and a handful of coffee beans. That's not asking too much, is it?

GUS: I reckon not, Miss Oaf. Like you say, I can sell what you brought to the mill hands.

MISS OAF: Here, you can put it all in this pillowcase. takes pillow slip from satchel, hands it to G. That way, it will be easier for me to handle.

GUS: Whatever you say, Miss Oaf. turns to gather up groceries

REV MOSS: Miss Ophelia?

MISS OAF: Yes, Sir?

REV. MOSS: I couldn't help overhearing you tell Mister Gus you want to teach the children about the old custom of placing a light in the window on Christmas Eve. Why don't you just borrow one of these church lamps?

MISS OAF: Oh! That would be wonderful! Yes! I could bring it back tomorrow. You don't think anybody would care?

REV. MOSS: I can't think of a soul who would object. Of course there's nothing in the Bible that says we ought to place a light in the window on Christmas Eve. But it's what I term a harmless tradition--started by the Irish, it is said.

MISS OAF: The Irish?

REV. MOSS: It all began with the innocent belief among the Irish people that each Christmas Eve night the Christ Child returns to earth and that he needs a lamp to show him the way to go.

Also, it has always meant that the family that places a light in the window would welcome the Blessed Child into their home. It's a custom that refuses to die out. And I think it helps to teach that the Christ came to be "The Light of the World."

MISS OAF: Why, yes. I hadn't thought of that.

GUS: Here you are, Miss Oaf. Hands her pillowcase stuffed and tied up.

MISS OAF: All right, Gus. The reverend here says I can borrow one of these church lamps. So that's what I'm aiming to do.

Turns to children, picks up one lamp

Ollie, do you think you can tote this lamp?

OLLIE: Yes, Ma’am! takes lamp. Miss Oaf, children start leaving

REV. MOSS: Miss Ophelia, if you've got time, you ought to take the girls up to the church. Miss Fannie is up there, having the children practice for the Christmas program. I know she'd be glad to have these little ladies sing with the other children.

MISS OAF: Girls, would you like that?

GIRLS: in chorus Yes, Ma’am.

MISS OAF: Fine. We'll go up there right now. exits, followed by children

GUS: Whew! I'm glad that's over with. takes caged chicken to back area, near bales of hay Old hen, you'd better lay another egg!

REV. MOSS: dreamily, to himself The Light of the World! Yes, I must get that thought into this sermon.

Scribbles in notebook

There's so much to tell. looks out window Gus, here comes a crippled man, using an umbrella for a walking stick. No, he's not coming here. He's turned and headed toward the sawmill. That man is badly crippled.

GUS: now busy getting the big apples back on the counter That's Mister Epps. Ever' payday he comes to the mill. I figure a bunch of the fellers owe him money, an' he comes to collect what he can. After a while, he will drag hisself on over here. He’s got to have him a can of Prince Albert. Won’t smoke no other brand.

REV. MOSS: Why is he so crippled up?

GUS: Years back, Mister Epps worked at the mill. He was the foreman over there. Then one day they had a terrible accident. Mister Epps come close to losing both legs! Folks said it was a miracle he didn't bleed to death on the spot. I reckon it was a miracle.

REV. MOSS: Miracles do still happen. looking out window again Ah! Here come two fellows. They're riding fine looking horses. Why, it's the sheriff! With a prisoner!

GUS: Prisoner? hurries to window, voice takes on tone of disappointment That's no prisoner. That's One-eyed-Willie Hopper. But Sheriff Tatum does have him handcuffed! I wonder what Willie's done?

REV. MOSS: I haven't heard of One-eyed-Willie Hopper. Who is he?

GUS: Well, uh-- Uh-- You might say One-eyed-Willie is the "village idiot." But, he's really no idiot. Willie's got plenty of gumption.

He's sort of a clown, a buffoon. Plumb childish, at times. Gets drunk pretty often.

REV. MOSS: He doesn't seem to be staggering right now.

GUS: No. He's walking plenty straight. Willie's sorry old daddy is to blame for him bein' like he is. He wouldn't make the boy go to school when he was a kid. So, now Willie can't read an' write.

'Course he is half blind, but he could'a learned somethin'.

Enter Sheriff Tatum, a loud, blustering fellow, who is half leading, half pushing Willie along. Willie has a patch over one eye and is wearing handcuffs. It is apparent that the sheriff is in distress. He halts at the doorway, does not notice Rev. Moss.