June Moon

sewing. Paul’s tone grows sharper as he sings, and she resigns herself to further listening.

“My heart is yearning.
For kisses burning,
For lips as sweet as a rose in June.
I’m always dreaming.
Of your eyes gleaming,
Beneath the beaming.
Montana Moon!”

Maxie plunges into a second chorus as Paul presses Lucille for an opinion. Don’t it sound great? The way Maxie plays it?

Lucille Delivering the verdict. I don’t think Berlin will kill himself. Paul It’s nothing like Berlin. Play it in two-four and it’s a great dance tune. Maxie is obliging. Paul sings a strain of it and dances. Lucille You don’t get Berlin’s songs to dance to. You get them to cry to. Paul All right. You can cry to this, too. “My heart is yearning for kisses burning.” That’s sad. Lucille Yes, but there’s something behind his songs. Sighs. They’re sympathetic. Paul Do you want to know why? Because he gets a little sympathy now and then! He’s appreciated at home! He don’t sit around here night after night with you yapping your head off at him, telling him he’s all through! Maxie Now, now! You’re going to write plenty of hits. Paul Sits. Well, it makes a fellow lose confidence in himself. Lucille I’m trying to help you, not hurt you. Paul You go about it in a funny way. Eileen comes back; is lighting a cigarette. Maxie She doesn’t mean anything. Of course she wants to help you. But this number⁠—I wouldn’t count on it too much if I were you. Lucille What do you mean? Paul Why not? Maxie I just wouldn’t⁠—that’s all. You can’t tell which way they’re going to jump these days. Paul They’ll snap this one up. Unless they’re crazy. Lucille Keep still a minute. To Maxie. What’s happened? Maxie Reluctant. Nothing definite. Only they were talking about it⁠—Hart and Goebel. Paul When were they? Eileen Has heard just enough. What did you say? Maxie Huh? I said Hart and Goebel were talking about Paul’s new number. Eileen When? Paul What did they say about it? Eileen You mean they were talking about it today? Maxie Sort of. Eileen In the office, you mean? Maxie Yah. Sure. Eileen What time? Maxie I don’t know. Five o’clock. Eileen Goebel and⁠—Hart both? Maxie Yah. Why? Eileen takes a moment to digest this bit of information; her eyes meet Lucille’s. Then, with a sudden movement, she turns and leaves the room. Lucille, after a thoughtful second, follows her out. Maxie looks after them, uncomprehending. Then he turns back to Paul. Did I say something dirty? Paul That don’t matter. What did they say about the song? Maxie But I don’t understand⁠— Paul Listen⁠—what did they do? Turn it down? Maxie He has to say it. Right now they don’t want it. Paul Hotly. When did they hear it? After I left? Maxie They asked me, so there was nothing for me to do but give it to them. I had Nate sing it. Paul It’s the lyric kills it! The melody’s sure fire! Even if it don’t sell over the counter it’d get a good mechanical break. Maxie Brightly. Maybe you could sell it outside. Paul It makes a man look like a fool, working for one house and selling your stuff to another. He drops into a chair, discouraged. Maxie You mustn’t let it worry you. The next one’ll be great, and you’ll forget all about this. Paul What else did they say⁠—when they heard it? Anything about me? Maxie What could they say about you? Paul If I don’t deliver pretty soon they’ll let me out. I’ll be like all those fellows that come around every day with another tune. The door bell sounds. I guess this is Stevens. Maxie Who? Paul Stevens⁠—that lyric writer. Maxie Maybe he’s just what you need. Maybe he’ll make all the difference in the world. Paul His stuff’s pretty good⁠—what I’ve seen of it. Disappears into the vestibule. Maxie Cheerily. There you are! Everything’ll be fine! You see! He is playing the piano again. Paul In the hallway. Hello, Stevens! Glad to see you! Fred Hello, Mr. Sears! Paul Put your hat and coat on the chair. Come right in! This is Maxie⁠—Mr. Schwartz. Shake hands with Mr. Stevens. Fred Glad to meet you, Mr. Schwartz. Maxie Playing with one hand and shaking hands with the other. Hello, Stevens. Lucille strolls back, eyeing the new arrival. Paul And this is my wife. Dear, this is Mr. Stevens. Lucille How are you? Fred Right there with an answer. I’m all right. Lucille Paul tells me you’re a songwriter yourself. Fred Modestly. Just the words. Lucille Well, that’s all Paul needs⁠—that and the music. Fred I’ve always been one of Mr. Sears’ greatest admirers. I’ve admired Mr. Sears ever since he wrote “Paprika.” Lucille You’ve got a good memory. Paul Maybe Stevens and I will turn out another “Paprika.” Fred I’m anxious to get started, all right. Since I got to town, all I’ve done so far is spend money. Lucille Expansively. Well, you’re quite a stranger! Paul Sit down. Fred Thanks. I guess I’m a little late. I got off the wrong subway station and there was an old woman there selling papers, and I stopped and talked to her because I knew she must be somebody’s mother. Maxie Who has never stopped playing. A fresh slant. Fred I was right too, because she told me she has six sons. I feel sorry for old women that has to earn their living. Lucille What do the boys do⁠—rent her the stand? Fred No, most of them are in a hospital and two of them had their foot cut off. She told me all about it and I give her a dollar. Paul You want to be careful in a place like New York. There’s all kinds of people waiting to take your money away from you. Fred It’s a great city, all right. Today I took the ferryboat over to Staten’s Island and back. He explains it to Lucille. It’s an island and you have to take a ferryboat. But I suppose you been there. Lucille I go there a lot⁠—just for the