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.

I do have a mind | to write to Boston myself.

If that school can't help her, | maybe they'll send somebody who can.

I'll write to Perkins, Katie.

Train to New York!

And south!

It will no doubt be difficult for you there.

All aboard!

This is my last time to counsel you, Annie.

You do lack some - | and by some I mean all - what?

Tact. All talent to bend to others.

What has saved you | more than once at Perkins

is that there was nowhere to expel you to.

- Your eyes hurt? | - My ears, Mr Anagnos.

Nowhere but to that dreadful place | where you grew up learning to be saucy!

Annie, I know how unhappy | it was for you there,

but that battle is dead and done with. | Why not let it stay buried?

- I think God must owe me a resurrection. | - What?

- He keeps digging up that battle. | - That is not a proper thing to say.

Be humble. You'll need their affection | working with this child.

A gift, with our affection.

Dear Mr Anagnos.

Well... What should I say?

I'm an ignorant, opinionated girl, | and everything I am I owe to you?

That is only half-true, Annie.

Which half?

Good luck.

Goodbye, goodbye. Goodbye.

I won't give them any trouble. I'll be | so ladylike they won't notice I've come!

- Where are we going, Annie? | - Jimmy...

- Where are we going? | - I said I'm taking care of you.

Where are we going?

Annie Sullivan, aged nine, | virtually blind.

James Sullivan, aged seven. | What's the matter with your leg, sonny?

It's his hip, mister. | He was born that way.

Can't he walk without a crutch? Girl | to the women's ward, boy to the men's.

Annie! Annie, don't let them take me!

Annie! Annie...

Tuscumbia!

Tuscumbia!

- Miss Sullivan? | - Here.

At last. I thought the trains must be | backing up every time I dozed off.

- I'm James Keller. | - James? I had a brother Jimmy.

- Are you Helen's? | - I'm only half her brother.

- You're to be her governess? | - Well, try.

You look like half a governess.

- You have a trunk, Miss Sullivan? | - Yes.

Mrs Keller.

We've met every train for two days.

You didn't bring Helen. | I was hoping you would.

No, she's home.

- You live far from town, Mrs Keller? | - Only a mile.

Well, I suppose I could wait | one more mile.

But don't be surprised | if I get out and push the horse.

- Welcome to Ivy Green, Miss Sullivan. | - My husband, Miss Annie. Cap'n Keller.

- Captain, how do you do? | - Pleasure to see you.

- I trust you had an agreeable journey. | - Oh, I had several.

- Where do you want the trunk? | - Where Miss Sullivan can get at it.

- Yes. Where's Helen? | - And the suitcase.

I'll take that. I've got something | for Helen. When do I see her?

There. There's Helen.

- Katie... | - Sh.

- She's very rough, Katie. | - I like her, Cap'n.

How old is she?

Well, she's not in her teens, you know.

Why does she wear those glasses? I like | to see a person's eyes when I talk to 'em.

- For the sun. She was blind. | - Blind?

She had nine operations on her eyes. | One just before she left.

Blind? Good heavens! They expect | one blind child to teach another?

How long did she teach there?

She was a pupil.

This is her first position?

She was valedictorian.

A houseful of grown-ups | can't cope with Helen.

How can a half-blind Yankee | schoolgirl manage?

Great improvement. | Now we have two of them.

- You be quiet. | - I was agreeing with you.

You talk too much.

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