Summer Magic

# Summer magic

# That wonderful magic

- Who's it from?

- Oh, nobody you'd know.

Gilly, pry yourself away

from that piano. There's work to do.

I don't see why Mother had to sell it.

Because it's the most valuable thing

we own and we need the money.

How am I going to be a composer

with only a guitar to compose on?

Hey! My fish!

I got to thinking about him

the other day. Where was he?

Oh, Gilly, you can't take everything.

There's not gonna be room

in our horrid new house.

And we can't afford

to pay storage on junk.

Look at his poor eye.

Why is my stuff always junk

and your stuff always priceless?

- Here, you can have him, Peter.

- Thanks! I'll put him with my junk.

Well, that did a lot of good.

Their poor mother.

One minute a happy wife,

and then the fates strike a cruel blow

and she's changed

to a poor widow woman.

- Watch the teacup, miss.

- Yes, ma'am.

This family is going to be lost

without you, Mary.

You too, Ellen.

In a book I was reading,

True Blue was the name of it, True Blue,

they had this family, Lord and Lady

Darcy, and their beloved children.

- They lived in a magnificent castle.

- Aye, I do love them castle stories!

- The tray, Miss.

- Yes, ma'am.

Well, everybody worshipped everybody,

so of course it was all terribly happy.

Then one day they lost all their riches.

Lord save us.

And they were driven from the castle

and they were forced to live in a hovel.

It was not in a nice neighborhood.

But they had this loyal old

family servant,

and the faithful creature

followed them from castle to hovel.

And she not only brought

her own life savings,

wrapped in a pitiful handkerchief,

to her beloved mistress,

but she remained with them

to serve them for years without wages.

'Tis a beautiful tale.

And a lesson to the greedy.

It is that. And you, Miss Nancy,

being all so interested

in the welfare of the deserving,

will be happy to know

that Ellen and myself

have found a nice situation in Salem.

At five dollars more a month.

Oh. I'm happy for you both.

Really.

- Finish the story, Nancy.

- I reached the end.

- End is right.

- Miss Nancy!

'Tis the men come for the piano.

Oh, Gilly.

Is this the instrument?

Pad.

Son. Pad.

Strap.

Mallet.

Dolly.

- Careful!

- It's just saying goodbye, Gilly.

Oh, 'tis a black day for the Careys.

- Back to your packing, miss.

- Yes, ma'am.

We've lost a friend, Gilly.

Sold for a mess of pottage.

Nancy, can't you ever keep quiet?

- Do you always have to make...

- Nancy! Gilly! Come quick!

- They got a thing! Come quick!

- A what?

A thing! Here she comes! Here she comes!

Oh, my! Look at that! Ooh!

- It's a player piano!

- Oh, I've heard one of them.

You don't need no hands.

Son.

Put it right there.

Suppose there's some horrible mistake.

Are you sure it's for us?

A Mrs. Carey sold

the instrument we just removed

for $150 cash and a swap.

This instrument is the swap.

Rolls in here.

Here's one we always put on

when folks are moving.

Son.

- Let me play! Let me play!

- When you learn how.

Slow it down!

Here come the words now.

# It's time for flittering

# Dusting off the trunk

and flittering far

# Where the grass is greener

# Now and then comes the time again

for flittering

# We'll soon be packing up

# Stacking up our dreams and bric-a-brac

for some new destination

# Don't know where but we're going there

# We're flittering again

# New places, new faces

# New friendships will start

# While old places, old faces

# Stay dear to our heart

# As we go flittering,

following a rainbow

# Flittering bright over the horizon

# Maybe then and maybe there

# We'll settle down and never care

# For flittering, flittering,

flittering, again #

- Mother!

- Hello, sweetheart.

- Feel better now?

- You bet. Sure glad you made the swap.

- Oh, it's wonderful, Mother!

- Let me tell her! Let me tell her!

Tell me.

Well, this one you don't need any hands!

You play with feet!

There's little rolls in with holes

that make the keys go up and down.

- No!

- And guess what.

- What?

- I played. I played with this leg.

Nobody showed me how.

That's your smartest leg.

- You have almost everything done.

- Mm-hm.

Children, come over here.

- I've just come from the lawyers.

- Oh, what happened, Mother?

Oh, it's nothing that can't be solved.

We'll make out somehow.

It's just that I've learned we haven't

quite as much money as I thought we had.

Go on, Mother.

The real blow was those mining stocks

we'd counted on,

the ones George Ferguson

got your father to buy.

They're worthless. Not worth the paper

they're written on, Mr. Manson told me.

Oh, well, that isn't so bad.

We're just in reduced circumstances.

I'll be very happy to beg.

I saw a beggar once

and he had a tin cup full of money.

Things won't be so very different.

I'm afraid they will in a way.

You see, counting everything,

we have exactly $50 a month to live on,

so we can't even afford to move

to the little house we were going to.

We can't afford

that horrible little house?

Oh, Mother, that's wonderful!

Oh, Gilly!

What ails her?

- Mother, this came today. This.

- What is it?

Mother, you remember after father...

That evening when we all tried

to make ourselves feel better

by talking about things

that had been fun,

and the best thing we thought of

was that time in Maine.

- And we saw the yellow house in Beulah.

- Yes!

And we peered in through the windows,

and wasn't it beautiful?

- And nobody lived there.

- Hey, that was years ago.

- You're wild.

- I remember it.

- You weren't even born.

- Oh, stop interrupting.

- Your entire lives are about to change.

- Go on, Nancy.

Well, Mother, a couple of weeks ago,

I decided that I'd try to find out

about that house.

So I wrote to the postmaster in Beulah,

and he answered.

His name is Ossian Popham.

Isn't it a beautiful name?

Anyway, he's the agent for Mr. Hamilton,

who owns the house,

who's miles away in China or somewhere.

Probably an old missionary

or remittance man in disgrace or...

- Could I see Mr. Popham's letter?

- It's all right, Mother. I...

- Nancy...

- Well...

"The pitiful plight of your good self

and your little ones..."

Oh, Mother, read the last page.

"Beulah is brimming over

with fresh milk for your baby boy..."

Who's a baby?

"...so there's no need for him

to be blue with rickets." Nancy!

The important part's

on the last page. Look.

It says the yellow house is vacant

and Mr. Hamilton would be glad to rent

it to a deserving family like ours

for a mere $60 a year.

And he has the right to decide,

'cause he's not only the postmaster,

but Mr. Hamilton's trusted friend,

his factotum, power attorney.

- Slow down, Nancy.

- Oh, think of living in the country.

No storage bills. All our things

will fit into the yellow house.

We'll be self-supporting.

Chickens. Fresh eggs.

Vegetables from the garden. Air. Space.

Honest toil!

- Can we, Mother? Can we?

- Oh, please, Mother.

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