(Shaving.) When I promised to shave you in five minutes, I didn't say anything about lathering. That takes several minutes by itself.

THE CUSTOMER. What?

THE BARBER. Now you've done it! (He applies styptic to a cut on
THE CUSTOMER's face.) Smarts, doesn't it?

THE CUSTOMER. (Furious) You clumsy, awkward, conceited galoot!

THE BARBER. (With sudden and overwhelming rage) Don't talk to a gentleman like that! You cur! (With a sudden resumption of his obsequious manner.) I did it on purpose.

THE CUSTOMER. (Gasping) Wh-what do you mean?

THE BARBER. (Respectfully) You really mustn't accuse me of being clumsy, sir. I'm not clumsy. If I cut you, it was quite intentional—like this! (Cutting him a second time.)

THE CUSTOMER. Damnation! Are you crazy?

THE BARBER. (Applying the styptic) No, sir, I'm quite sane. (THE CUSTOMER tries to sit up.) Oh, don't do that, sir! Don't do that! My razor is frightfully sharp!

THE CUSTOMER. (Panic-stricken) I want to sit up!

THE BARBER. Don't try it while the razor is at your throat, sir.
It is sure to be fatal.

THE CUSTOMER. Then take it away!

THE BARBER. Oh, no, no, no! When I am through shaving you—not before. Now take it easy, sir. Lie back quietly! Quietly! That's it.

THE CUSTOMER. (Controlling himself with an effort, and putting his cigar in his mouth) What are you going to do with me? What's this? A hold-up?

THE BARBER. What am I— (With a sudden access of rage.) Take that filthy thing out of your mouth! (He snatches the cigar, and throws it to the floor; continues obsequiously.) What am I going to do with you, sir? Why, really, I haven't the slightest idea. Er—can't you suggest something?

THE CUSTOMER. (Quickly and earnestly) Listen to me. I must be at that meeting at once! I can't spare another minute. If I am not there before three-fifteen I will be ruined—do you understand me?—ruined!

THE BARBER. You needn't raise your voice, sir. My hearing is excellent. (He lathers again, keeping the razor near THE CUSTOMER's throat.)

THE CUSTOMER. (Piteously) Can't I convince you? I

THE BARBER. Oh, I believe you. Don't let that trouble you. In fact, I know all about the meeting. There's going to be an auction, and unless you bid, it will be all up with you.

THE CUSTOMER. Then you'll let me go there?

THE BARBER. I'm afraid I won't, sir.

THE CUSTOMER. But—

THE BARBER. If I may use your own words, sir, I don't give a damn about your meeting.

THE CUSTOMER. (Angrily) Who the devil do you think

THE BARBER. (Interrupting him by running the lather brush into his mouth) Oh, shut up! (There is a pause.)

THE CUSTOMER. I'll-I'll give you ten dollars to let me go.

THE BARBER. (Acting as if he did not hear) Beg pardon, sir?

THE CUSTOMER. (Taking the scarf-pin from the edge of his vest.)
This scarf-pin—it's worth five hundred dollars—I'll give—

THE BARBER. (Raises his hand to his ear, knocking the pin out of THE CUSTOMER's hand) I don't hear well on this side. Try the other.

THE CUSTOMER. A thousand dollars! I'll give you a thousand dollars!

THE BARBER. I'm afraid it won't do, sir. You see, the young lady who runs the news stand up-stairs says—you won't interrupt me this time will you?—she says it's important to keep customers in sight. There's nothing so bad for trade as an empty shop.

THE CUSTOMER. Oh, have you no heart? It's almost too late now!
Every second is worth a dollar to me!

THE BARBER. Well, sir, it will console you to know that my time is worth very little.

THE CUSTOMER. Please let me up! If I wait two minutes longer, I might as well shoot myself.

THE BARBER. I shan't object, sir.

THE CUSTOMER. Oh! Oh! Oh!

THE BARBER. So you are beginning to feel some regrets? I'm glad to see it. I always thought you'd regret sooner or later. (Shaving.) By the way, sir, haven't you recognized me yet?

THE CUSTOMER. Recognized you?

THE BARBER. Oh, I see. You thought I was just a lunatic. Well,
I'm not. Look at me. Look at me closely.

THE CUSTOMER. I don't know you!

THE BARBER. No? Well, just say to yourself, "Twelve years ago this man's hair was not so gray. Twelve years ago this man's face didn't show so many lines of care. Twelve years ago this man lived—well, in a little town near Savannah, and—"

THE CUSTOMER. (Beginning to recognize him) You-you can't be—

THE BARBER. Say it.

THE CUSTOMER. Kilburn!

THE BARBER. Yes, Kilburn!

THE CUSTOMER. (Hoarsely) And you followed me about!

THE BARBER. For twelve years!

THF CUSTOMER. From town to town!

THE BARBER. I was never more than a week behind you.

THE CUSTOMER. (With unutterable horror) Good God!

THE BARBER. Yes, God. I used to think of Him a great deal,
John. I used to ask Him why He never brought you into my shop.

THE CUSTOMER. Oh! Oh!

THE BARBER. But He brought you here at last, John! He brought you here at last! (He pauses.) For twelve mortal years I've been hoping for this day! Once, in Muscatine, you came in, but there was another man in the chair, and you wouldn't wait. Once, in Louisville, you crossed my threshold, looked at your watch, and walked out again. But sooner or later, John, I knew you'd walk into my shop, and sit down in my chair! That day has come! (He looks into his eyes.) You and I, John, the two of us, have a long account to settle, haven't we? I've been one of your creditors, too! And this is the reckoning, John! You're going to pay me—pay me in full—and you're going to pay me now!

THE CUSTOMER. What are you going to do?

THE BARBER. That's a hard question, John. I'd be justified in cutting your throat, wouldn't I?

THE CUSTOMER. It would be murder!

THE BARBER. Ugly word, isn't it?

THE CUSTOMER. Murder in the first degree!

THE BARBER. Oh, of course!

THE CUSTOMER. They'd get you as sure as fate!

THE BARBER. I wouldn't run away.

THE CUSTOMER. But, Kilburn, think what you are doing!

THE BARBER. I've been thinking about it for twelve years, John.

THE CUSTOMER. I'm on my back, helpless!

THE BARBER. You'd run if I let you up.

THE CUSTOMER. But give me a chance! Kilburn, give me—

THE BARBER. (Interrupting) No, John, you get no chance. You gave Jennie none. (He pauses.) She was just eighteen when you came to our town. She was only a child, John, only a child. Her mother was dead. I was all she had—and she was all I had. And I was trying to bring her up right—to make her the same kind of a woman her mother had been, if you know what that means.

THE CUSTOMER. I didn't—

THE BARBER. Don't tell me what