Datasets:

AIRI-NLP

/

quality_counter_new_2048

like 0

Follow

NLP Research Group 11

you to understand. No, your knowledge is not corrupt, it would not carry with it the same seeds of disaster as that of Those Others. But it would be too easy for us to accept, to walk a softer road, to forget what we have so far won. Just give us time--" Raf cupped his palms over his watering eyes. He wanted badly to see clearly the other's face, to be able to read his expression. Yet it seemed that somehow he _was_ able to see that sober face, as sincere as the words in his mind. "You will come again," Dalgard said with certainty. "And we shall be waiting because you, Raf Kurbi, made it possible." There was something so solemn about that that Raf looked up in surprise. "When you destroyed the core of Those Other's holding, you gave us our chance. For had you not done that we, the mermen, the other harmless, happy creatures of this world, would have been wiped out. There would be no new beginning here, only a dark and horrible end." Raf blinked; to his surprise that other figure standing in the direct sunlight did not waver, and beyond the proudly held head was a stretch of turquoise sky. He could see the color! "Yes, you shall see with your eyes--and with your mind," now Dalgard spoke aloud. "And if the Spirit which rules all space is kind, you shall return to your own people. For you have served His cause well." Then, as if he were embarrassed by his own solemnity, Dalgard ended with a most prosaic inquiry: "Would you like shellfish for eating?" Moments later, wading out into the water-swirled sand, his boots kicked off, his toes feeling for the elusive shelled creatures no one could see, Raf felt happier, freer than he could ever remember having been before. It was going to be all right. He could _see_! He would find the ship! He laughed aloud at nothing and heard an answering chuckle and then a whoop of triumph from the scout stooping to claw one of their prey out of hiding. It was after they had eaten that Dalgard asked another question, one which did not seem important to Raf. "You have a close friend among the crew of your ship?" Raf hesitated. Now that he was obliged to consider the point, did he have any friends--let alone a close one--among the crew of the _RS 10_? Certainly he did not claim Wonstead who had shared his quarters--he honestly did not care if he never saw him again. The officers, the experts such as Lablet--quickly face and character of each swept through his mind and was as swiftly discarded. There was Soriki--He could not claim the com-tech as any special friend, but at least during their period together among the aliens he had come to know him better. Now, as if Dalgard had read his mind--and he probably had, thought Raf with a flash of the old resentment--he had another question. "And what was he--is he like?" Though the pilot could see little reason for this he answered as best he could, trying to build first a physical picture of the com-tech and then doing a little guessing as to what lay under the other's space-burned skin. Dalgard lay on his back, gazing up into the blue-green sky. Yet Raf knew that he was intent on every word. A merman padded up, settled down cross-legged beside the scout, as if he too were enthralled by the pilot's halting description of a man he might never see again. Then a second of the sea people came and a third, until Raf felt that some sort of a noiseless council was in progress. His words trailed away, and then Dalgard offered an explanation. "It will take us many, many days to reach the place where your ship is. And before we are able to complete that journey your friends may be gone. So we shall try something else--with your aid." Raf fingered the little bundle of his possessions. Even his helmet with its com phone was missing. "No," again Dalgard read his mind. "Your machines are of no use to you now. We shall try _our_ way." "How?" Wild thoughts of a big signal fire--But how could that be sighted across a mountain range. Of some sort of an improvised com unit-- "I said _our_ way." There was a smile on Dalgard's face, visible to Raf's slowly clearing vision. "We shall provide another kind of machine, and these"--he waved at the mermen--"will give us the power, or so we hope. Lie here," he gestured to the sand beside him, "and think only of your friend in the ship, in his natural surroundings. Try to hold that picture constant in your mind, letting no other thought trouble it." "Do you mean--send a message to him mentally!" Raf's reply was half protest. "Did I not so reach you when we were in the city--even before I knew of you as an individual?" the scout reminded him. "And such messages are doubly possible when they are sent from friend to friend." "But we were close then." "That is why--" again Dalgard indicated the mermen. "For them this is the natural means of communication. They will pick up your reaching thought, amplify it with their power, beam it north. Since your friend deals with matters of communication, let us hope that he will be sensitive to this method." Raf was only half convinced that it might work But he remembered how Dalgard had established contact with him, before, as the scout had pointed out, they had met. It was that voiceless cry for aid which had pulled him into this adventure in the first place. It was only fitting that something of the same process give _him_ help in return. Obediently he stretched out on the sand and closed his dim eyes, trying to picture Soriki in the small cabin which held the com, slouched in his bucket seat, his deceptive posture that of a lax idler, as he had seen him so many times. Soriki--his broad face with its flat cheekbones, its wide cheerful mouth, its heavy-lidded eyes. And having fixed Soriki's face, he tried to believe that he was now confronting the com-tech, speaking directly to him. "Come--come and get me--south--seashore--Soriki come and get me!" The words formed a kind of chant, a chant aimed at that familiar face in its familiar surroundings. "South--come and get me--" Raf struggled to think only of that, to allow nothing to break through that chant or disturb his picture of the scene he had called from memory. How long that attempt at communication lasted the pilot could not tell, for somehow he slipped from the deep concentration into sleep, dreamless and untroubled, from which he awoke with the befogged feeling that something important had happened. But had he gotten through? The ring of mermen was gone, and it was dawn, gray, chill with the forewarnings of rain in the air. He was reassured because he was certain that in spite of the gloom his sight was a fraction clearer than it had been the day before. But had they gotten through? As he arose, brushing the sand from him, he saw the scout splashing out of the sea, a fish impaled on his spear. "Did we get through?" Raf blurted out. "Since your friend cannot reply with the mind touch, we do not know. But later we shall try again." To Raf's peering gaze Dalgard's face had a drawn, gaunt look as if he had been at hard labor during the hours just past. He walked up the beach slowly, without the springing step Raf had come to associate with him. As he settled down to gut the fish with one of the bone knives, the scout repeated, "We can try again--!" Half an hour later, as the rain swept in from the sea, Raf knew that they would not have to try. His head went up, his face eager. He had known that sound too long and too well ever to mistake it--the drone of a flitter motor cutting through the swish of the falling water. Some trick of the cliffs behind them must be magnifying and projecting the sound, for he could not sight the machine. But it was coming. He whirled to Dalgard, only to see that the other was on his feet and had taken up his spear. "It is the flitter! Soriki heard--they're coming!" Raf hastened to assure him. For the last time he saw Dalgard's slow, warm smile, clearer than he had ever seen it before. Then the scout turned and trotted away, toward a fringing rock wall. Before he dropped out of sight behind that barrier he raised the spear in salute. "Swift and fortunate voyaging!" He gave the farewell of Homeport. Then Raf understood. The colonist meant just what he had said: he wanted no contact with the space ship. To Raf he had owed a debt and now that was paid. But the time was not yet when the men of Astra and the men of Terra should meet. A hundred years from now perhaps--or a thousand--but not yet. And remembering what had summoned the flitter winging toward him, Raf drew a deep breath. What would the men of Astra accomplish in a hundred years? What could those of Terra do to match them in knowledge? It was a challenge, and he alone knew just how much of a challenge. Homeport must remain his own secret. He had been guided to this place, saved by the mermen alone. Dalgard and his people must not exist as far as the crew of the _RS 10_ were concerned. For the last time he experienced the intimacy of the mind touch. "That is it--brother!" Then the sensation was gone as the black blot of the flitter buzzed out of the clouds. From behind the rocks Dalgard watched the pilot enter the strange machine. For a single moment he had an impulse to shout, to run forward, to surrender to his desire to see the others, the ship which had brought them through space and would, they confidently believed, take them back to the Terra he knew only as a legend of the past. But he mastered that desire. He had been right. The road had already forked and there was no going back. He must carry this secret all the rest of his life--he must be strong-willed enough so that Homeport would never know. Time--give them time to be what they could be. Then in a hundred years--or a thousand--But not yet! * * * * * "Nobody today is telling better stories of straight-forward interstellar adventure." --_New York Herald-Tribune_ When Raf Kurbi's Terran spaceship burst into unexplored skies of the far planet Astra and was immediately made welcome by the natives of a once-mighty metropolis, Kurbi was unaware of three vital things: One was that Astra already harbored an Earth colony--descended from refugees from the world of the previous century. Two was that these men and women were facing the greatest danger of their existence from a new outburst of the inhuman fiends who had once tyrannized Astra. Three was that the natives who were buying Kurbi's science know-how were those very fiends--and their intentions were implacably deadly for all humans, whether Earth born or STAR BORN. _It's an Andre Norton space adventure--and therefore the tops in its field!_ * * * * * Quotes from the reviews: "All science-fiction fans will thrill to these new adventures created by Andre Norton.... All who enjoy a good adventure about the unknown parts of our galaxy will find this an enchanting story." --_Jackson _(_Tenn._) _Sun_ "Superb science-fiction." --_Montgomery Advertiser_ "Andre Norton adds another star to her literary laurels." --_Cleveland Press_ "A good, clearly thought-out story." --_New York Times_ "Exciting and adventure-laden." --_Library Journal_ "Suspense and excitement.... A storyteller of the first class, this is one of her best." --_Fantasy & Science Fiction_ * * * * * NOW AVAILABLE AGAIN! PERRY RHODAN 95 each #1 Enterprise Stardust Scheer & Ernsting #2 The Radiant Dome Scheer & Ernsting #3 Galactic Alarm Mahr & Shols #4 Invasion from Space Ernsting & Mahr #5 The Vega Sector Scheer & Mahr #6 Secret of the Time Vault Darlton #7 Fortress of the Six Moons Scheer #8 The Galactic Riddle Darlton #9 Quest through Space and Time Darlton #10 The Ghosts of Gol Mahr #11 Planet of the Dying Sun Mahr #12 Rebels of Tuglan Darlton #13 The Immortal Unknown Darlton #14 Venus in Danger Mahr #15 Escape To Venus Mahr #16 Secret Barrier X Shols #17 The Venus Trap Mahr #18 Menace of the Mutant Master Darlton #19 Mutants vs. Mutants Darlton #20 The Thrall of Hypno Darlton _Available wherever paperbacks an sold or use this coupon._ * * * * * ace books, (Dept. MM) Box 576, Times Square Station New York, N.Y. 10036 Please send me titles checked above. I enclose $.................. Add 25 handling fee per copy. Name.................................................... Address................................................. City...................... State............ Zip........ * * * * * ANDRE NORTON Android at Arms $1.25 Beast Master $1.25 Breed to Come $1.25 Catseye $1.25 The Crossroads Of Time $1.25 Dark Piper $1.25 Daybreak 2250 A.D. $1.25 Defiant Agents $1.25 Dragon Magic $1.25 Dread Companion $1.25 Exiles of the Stars $1.25 Eye of the Monster $1.25 Forerunner Foray $1.50 Galactic Derelict $1.25 High Sorcery $1.25 Huon of the Horn $1.25 Ice Crown $1.25 Judgment on Janus $1.25 Key Out of Time $1.25 The Last Planet $1.25 Lord of Thunder $1.25 Moon of Three Rings $1.25 Night of Masks $1.25 Operation Time Search $1.25 Ordeal In Otherwhere $1.25 _Available wherever paperbacks are sold or use this coupon._ * * * * * ace books, (Dept. MM) Box 576, Times Square Station New York. N.Y. 10036 Please send me titles checked above. I enclose $................ Add 25 handling fee per copy. Name................................................ Address.......................................... City............... State........... Zip......... * * * * * ANDRE NORTON $1.25 each Plague Ship Postmarked the Stars Quest Crosstime Sargasso of Space Sea Seige Secret of the Lost Race. Shadow Hawk The Sioux Spaceman Sorceress of Witch World Star Born Star Gate Star Guard Star Hunter & Voodoo Planet The Stars are Ours Storm Over Warlock Three Against the WitchWorld The Time Traders Uncharted Stars Victory on Janus Warlock of the Witch World Web of the Witch World Witch World The X Factor Year Of The Unicorn The Zero Stone _Available wherever paperbacks are sold or use this coupon._ * * * * * ace books, (Dept. MM) Box 576, Times Square Station New York, N.Y. 10036 Please send me titles checked above. I enclose $............... Add 25 handling fee per copy. Name................................................... Address................................................. City...................... State............ Zip........ End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Star Born, by Andre Norton *** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK STAR BORN *** ***** This file should be named 18458-8.txt or 18458-8.zip ***** This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: http://www.gutenberg.org/1/8/4/5/18458/ Produced by Jason Isbell, Greg Weeks, Sankar Viswanathan, and the Online Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions will be renamed. Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation (and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without permission and without paying copyright royalties. Special rules, set forth in the General Terms of Use part of this license, apply to copying and distributing Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works to protect the PROJECT GUTENBERG-tm concept and trademark. Project Gutenberg is a registered trademark, and may not be used if you charge for the eBooks, unless you receive specific permission. If you do not charge anything for copies of this eBook, complying with the rules is very easy. You may use this eBook for nearly any purpose such as creation of derivative works, reports, performances and research. They may be modified and printed and given away--you may do practically ANYTHING with public domain eBooks. Redistribution is subject to the trademark license, especially commercial redistribution. *** START: FULL LICENSE *** THE FULL PROJECT GUTENBERG LICENSE PLEASE READ THIS BEFORE YOU DISTRIBUTE OR USE THIS WORK To protect the Project Gutenberg-tm mission of promoting the free distribution of electronic works, by using or distributing this work (or any other work associated in any way with the phrase "Project Gutenberg"), you agree to comply with all the terms of the Full Project Gutenberg-tm License (available with this file or online at http://gutenberg.org/license). Section 1. General Terms of Use and Redistributing Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works 1.A. By reading or using any part of this Project Gutenberg-tm electronic work, you indicate that you have read, understand, agree to and accept all the terms of this license and intellectual property (trademark/copyright) agreement. If you do not agree to abide by all the terms of this agreement, you must cease using and return or destroy all copies of Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works in your possession. If you paid a fee for obtaining a copy of or access to a Project Gutenberg-tm electronic work and you do not agree to be bound by the terms of this agreement, you may obtain a refund from the person or entity to whom you paid the fee as set forth in paragraph 1.E.8. 1.B. "Project Gutenberg" is a registered trademark. It may only be used on or associated in any way with an electronic work by people who agree to be bound by the terms of this agreement. There are a few things that you can do with most Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works even without complying with the full terms of this agreement. See paragraph 1.C below. There are a lot of things you can do with Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works if you follow the terms of this agreement and help preserve free future access to Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works. See paragraph 1.E below. 1.C. The Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation ("the Foundation" or PGLAF), owns a compilation copyright in the collection of Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works. Nearly all the individual works in the collection are in the public domain in the United States. If an individual work is in the public domain in the United States and you are located in the United States, we do not claim a right to prevent you from copying, distributing, performing, displaying or creating derivative works based on the work as long as all references to Project Gutenberg are removed. Of course, we hope that you will support the Project Gutenberg-tm mission of promoting free access to electronic works by freely sharing Project Gutenberg-tm works in compliance with the terms of this agreement for keeping the Project Gutenberg-tm name associated with the work. You can easily comply with the terms of this agreement by keeping this work in the same format with its attached full Project Gutenberg-tm License when you share it without charge with others. 1.D. The copyright laws of the place where you are located also govern what you can do with this work. Copyright laws in most countries are in a constant state of change. If you are outside the United States, check the laws of your country in addition to the terms of this agreement before downloading, copying, displaying, performing, distributing or creating derivative works based on this work or any other Project Gutenberg-tm work. The Foundation makes no representations concerning the copyright status of any work in any country outside the United States. 1.E. Unless you have removed all references to Project Gutenberg: 1.E.1. The following sentence, with active links to, or other immediate access to, the full Project Gutenberg-tm License must appear prominently whenever any copy of a Project Gutenberg-tm work (any work on which the phrase "Project Gutenberg" appears, or with which the phrase "Project Gutenberg" is associated) is accessed, displayed, performed, viewed, copied or distributed: This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org 1.E.2. If an individual Project Gutenberg-tm electronic work is derived from the public domain (does not contain a notice indicating that it is posted with permission of the copyright holder), the work can be copied and distributed to anyone in the United States without paying any fees or charges. If you are redistributing or providing access to a work with the phrase "Project Gutenberg" associated with or appearing on the work, you must comply either with the requirements of paragraphs 1.E.1 through 1.E.7 or obtain permission for the use of the work and the Project Gutenberg-tm trademark as set forth in paragraphs 1.E.8 or 1.E.9. 1.E.3. If an individual Project Gutenberg-tm electronic work is posted with the permission of the copyright holder, your use and distribution must comply with both paragraphs 1.E.1 through 1.E.7 and any additional terms imposed by the copyright holder. Additional terms will be linked to the Project Gutenberg-tm License for all works posted with the permission of the copyright holder found at the beginning of this work. 1.E.4. Do not unlink or detach or remove the full Project Gutenberg-tm License terms from this work, or any files containing a part of this work or any other work associated with Project Gutenberg-tm. 1.E.5. Do not copy, display, perform, distribute or redistribute this electronic work, or any part of this electronic work, without prominently displaying the sentence set forth in paragraph 1.E.1 with active links or immediate access to the full terms of the Project Gutenberg-tm License. 1.E.6. You may convert to and distribute this work in any binary, compressed, marked up, nonproprietary or proprietary form, including any word processing or hypertext form. However, if you provide access to or distribute copies of a Project Gutenberg-tm work in a format other than "Plain Vanilla ASCII" or other format used in the official version posted on the official Project Gutenberg-tm web site (www.gutenberg.org), you must, at no additional cost, fee or expense to the user, provide a copy, a means of exporting a copy, or a means of obtaining a copy upon request, of the work in its original "Plain Vanilla ASCII" or other form. Any alternate format must include the full Project Gutenberg-tm License as specified in paragraph 1.E.1. 1.E.7. Do not charge a fee for access to, viewing, displaying, performing, copying or distributing any Project Gutenberg-tm works unless you comply with paragraph 1.E.8 or 1.E.9. 1.E.8. You may charge a reasonable fee for copies of or providing access to or distributing Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works provided that - You pay a royalty fee of 20% of the gross profits you derive from the use of Project Gutenberg-tm works calculated using the method you already use to calculate your applicable taxes. The fee is owed to the owner of the Project Gutenberg-tm trademark, but he has agreed to donate royalties under this paragraph to the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation. Royalty payments must be paid within 60 days following each date on which you prepare (or are legally required to prepare) your periodic tax returns. Royalty payments should be clearly marked as such and sent to the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation at the address specified in Section 4, "Information about donations to the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation." - You provide a full refund of any money paid by a user who notifies you in writing (or by e-mail) within 30 days of receipt that s/he does not agree to the terms of the full Project Gutenberg-tm License. You must require such a user to return or destroy all copies of the works possessed in a physical medium and discontinue all use of and all access to other copies of Project Gutenberg-tm works. - You provide, in accordance with paragraph 1.F.3, a full refund of any money paid for a work or a replacement copy, if a defect in the electronic work is discovered and reported to you within 90 days of receipt of the work. - You comply with all other terms of this agreement for free distribution of Project Gutenberg-tm works. 1.E.9. If you wish to charge a fee or distribute a Project Gutenberg-tm electronic work or group of works on different terms than are set forth in this agreement, you must obtain permission in writing from both the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation and Michael Hart, the owner of the Project Gutenberg-tm trademark. Contact the Foundation as set forth in Section 3 below. 1.F. 1.F.1. Project Gutenberg volunteers and employees expend considerable effort to identify, do copyright research on, transcribe and proofread public domain works in creating the Project Gutenberg-tm collection. Despite these efforts, Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works, and the medium on which they may be stored, may contain "Defects," such as, but not limited to, incomplete, inaccurate or corrupt data, transcription errors, a copyright or other intellectual property infringement, a defective or damaged disk or other medium, a computer virus, or computer codes that damage or cannot be read by your equipment. 1.F.2. LIMITED WARRANTY, DISCLAIMER OF DAMAGES - Except for the "Right of Replacement or Refund" described in paragraph 1.F.3, the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation, the owner of the Project Gutenberg-tm trademark, and any other party distributing a Project Gutenberg-tm electronic work under this agreement, disclaim all liability to you for damages, costs and expenses, including legal fees. YOU AGREE THAT YOU HAVE NO REMEDIES FOR NEGLIGENCE, STRICT LIABILITY, BREACH OF WARRANTY OR BREACH OF CONTRACT EXCEPT THOSE PROVIDED IN PARAGRAPH F3. YOU AGREE THAT THE FOUNDATION, THE TRADEMARK OWNER, AND ANY DISTRIBUTOR UNDER THIS AGREEMENT WILL NOT BE LIABLE TO YOU FOR ACTUAL, DIRECT, INDIRECT, CONSEQUENTIAL, PUNITIVE OR INCIDENTAL DAMAGES EVEN IF YOU GIVE NOTICE OF THE POSSIBILITY OF SUCH DAMAGE. 1.F.3. LIMITED RIGHT OF REPLACEMENT OR REFUND - If you discover a defect in this electronic work within 90 days of receiving it, you can receive a refund of the money (if any) you paid for it by sending a written explanation to the person you received the work from. If you received the work on a physical medium, you must return the medium with your written explanation. The person or entity that provided you with the defective work may elect to provide a replacement copy in lieu of a refund. If you received the work electronically, the person or entity providing it to you may choose to give you a second opportunity to receive the work electronically in lieu of a refund. If the second copy is also defective, you may demand a refund in writing without further opportunities to fix the problem. 1.F.4. Except for the limited right of replacement or refund set forth in paragraph 1.F.3, this work is provided to you 'AS-IS' WITH NO OTHER WARRANTIES OF ANY KIND, EXPRESS OR IMPLIED, INCLUDING BUT NOT LIMITED TO WARRANTIES OF MERCHANTIBILITY OR FITNESS FOR ANY PURPOSE. 1.F.5. Some states do not allow disclaimers of certain implied warranties or the exclusion or limitation of certain types of damages. If any disclaimer or limitation set forth in this agreement violates the law of the state applicable to this agreement, the agreement shall be interpreted to make the maximum disclaimer or limitation permitted by the applicable state law. The invalidity or unenforceability of any provision of this agreement shall not void the remaining provisions. 1.F.6. INDEMNITY - You agree to indemnify and hold the Foundation, the trademark owner, any agent or employee of the Foundation, anyone providing copies of Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works in accordance with this agreement, and any volunteers associated with the production, promotion and distribution of Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works, harmless from all liability, costs and expenses, including legal fees, that arise directly or indirectly from any of the following which you do or cause to occur: (a) distribution of this or any Project Gutenberg-tm work, (b) alteration, modification, or additions or deletions to any Project Gutenberg-tm work, and (c) any Defect you cause. Section 2. Information about the Mission of Project Gutenberg-tm Project Gutenberg-tm is synonymous with the free distribution of electronic works in formats readable by the widest variety of computers including obsolete, old, middle-aged and new computers. It exists because of the efforts of hundreds of volunteers and donations from people in all walks of life. Volunteers and financial support to provide volunteers with the assistance they need, is critical to reaching Project Gutenberg-tm's goals and ensuring that the Project Gutenberg-tm collection will remain freely available for generations to come. In 2001, the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation was created to provide a secure and permanent future for Project Gutenberg-tm and future generations. To learn more about the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation and how your efforts and donations can help, see Sections 3 and 4 and the Foundation web page at http://www.pglaf.org. Section 3. Information about the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation The Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation is a non profit 501(c)(3) educational corporation organized under the laws of the state of Mississippi and granted tax exempt status by the Internal Revenue Service. The Foundation's EIN or federal tax identification number is 64-6221541. Its 501(c)(3) letter is posted at http://pglaf.org/fundraising. Contributions to the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation are tax deductible to the full extent permitted by U.S. federal laws and your state's laws. The Foundation's principal office is located at 4557 Melan Dr. S. Fairbanks, AK, 99712., but its volunteers and employees are scattered throughout numerous locations. Its business office is located at 809 North 1500 West, Salt Lake City, UT 84116, (801) 596-1887, email [email protected]. Email contact links and up to date contact information can be found at the Foundation's web site and official page at http://pglaf.org For additional contact information: Dr. Gregory B. Newby

reassured

How many times the word 'reassured' appears in the text?

you to understand. No, your knowledge is not corrupt, it would not carry with it the same seeds of disaster as that of Those Others. But it would be too easy for us to accept, to walk a softer road, to forget what we have so far won. Just give us time--" Raf cupped his palms over his watering eyes. He wanted badly to see clearly the other's face, to be able to read his expression. Yet it seemed that somehow he _was_ able to see that sober face, as sincere as the words in his mind. "You will come again," Dalgard said with certainty. "And we shall be waiting because you, Raf Kurbi, made it possible." There was something so solemn about that that Raf looked up in surprise. "When you destroyed the core of Those Other's holding, you gave us our chance. For had you not done that we, the mermen, the other harmless, happy creatures of this world, would have been wiped out. There would be no new beginning here, only a dark and horrible end." Raf blinked; to his surprise that other figure standing in the direct sunlight did not waver, and beyond the proudly held head was a stretch of turquoise sky. He could see the color! "Yes, you shall see with your eyes--and with your mind," now Dalgard spoke aloud. "And if the Spirit which rules all space is kind, you shall return to your own people. For you have served His cause well." Then, as if he were embarrassed by his own solemnity, Dalgard ended with a most prosaic inquiry: "Would you like shellfish for eating?" Moments later, wading out into the water-swirled sand, his boots kicked off, his toes feeling for the elusive shelled creatures no one could see, Raf felt happier, freer than he could ever remember having been before. It was going to be all right. He could _see_! He would find the ship! He laughed aloud at nothing and heard an answering chuckle and then a whoop of triumph from the scout stooping to claw one of their prey out of hiding. It was after they had eaten that Dalgard asked another question, one which did not seem important to Raf. "You have a close friend among the crew of your ship?" Raf hesitated. Now that he was obliged to consider the point, did he have any friends--let alone a close one--among the crew of the _RS 10_? Certainly he did not claim Wonstead who had shared his quarters--he honestly did not care if he never saw him again. The officers, the experts such as Lablet--quickly face and character of each swept through his mind and was as swiftly discarded. There was Soriki--He could not claim the com-tech as any special friend, but at least during their period together among the aliens he had come to know him better. Now, as if Dalgard had read his mind--and he probably had, thought Raf with a flash of the old resentment--he had another question. "And what was he--is he like?" Though the pilot could see little reason for this he answered as best he could, trying to build first a physical picture of the com-tech and then doing a little guessing as to what lay under the other's space-burned skin. Dalgard lay on his back, gazing up into the blue-green sky. Yet Raf knew that he was intent on every word. A merman padded up, settled down cross-legged beside the scout, as if he too were enthralled by the pilot's halting description of a man he might never see again. Then a second of the sea people came and a third, until Raf felt that some sort of a noiseless council was in progress. His words trailed away, and then Dalgard offered an explanation. "It will take us many, many days to reach the place where your ship is. And before we are able to complete that journey your friends may be gone. So we shall try something else--with your aid." Raf fingered the little bundle of his possessions. Even his helmet with its com phone was missing. "No," again Dalgard read his mind. "Your machines are of no use to you now. We shall try _our_ way." "How?" Wild thoughts of a big signal fire--But how could that be sighted across a mountain range. Of some sort of an improvised com unit-- "I said _our_ way." There was a smile on Dalgard's face, visible to Raf's slowly clearing vision. "We shall provide another kind of machine, and these"--he waved at the mermen--"will give us the power, or so we hope. Lie here," he gestured to the sand beside him, "and think only of your friend in the ship, in his natural surroundings. Try to hold that picture constant in your mind, letting no other thought trouble it." "Do you mean--send a message to him mentally!" Raf's reply was half protest. "Did I not so reach you when we were in the city--even before I knew of you as an individual?" the scout reminded him. "And such messages are doubly possible when they are sent from friend to friend." "But we were close then." "That is why--" again Dalgard indicated the mermen. "For them this is the natural means of communication. They will pick up your reaching thought, amplify it with their power, beam it north. Since your friend deals with matters of communication, let us hope that he will be sensitive to this method." Raf was only half convinced that it might work But he remembered how Dalgard had established contact with him, before, as the scout had pointed out, they had met. It was that voiceless cry for aid which had pulled him into this adventure in the first place. It was only fitting that something of the same process give _him_ help in return. Obediently he stretched out on the sand and closed his dim eyes, trying to picture Soriki in the small cabin which held the com, slouched in his bucket seat, his deceptive posture that of a lax idler, as he had seen him so many times. Soriki--his broad face with its flat cheekbones, its wide cheerful mouth, its heavy-lidded eyes. And having fixed Soriki's face, he tried to believe that he was now confronting the com-tech, speaking directly to him. "Come--come and get me--south--seashore--Soriki come and get me!" The words formed a kind of chant, a chant aimed at that familiar face in its familiar surroundings. "South--come and get me--" Raf struggled to think only of that, to allow nothing to break through that chant or disturb his picture of the scene he had called from memory. How long that attempt at communication lasted the pilot could not tell, for somehow he slipped from the deep concentration into sleep, dreamless and untroubled, from which he awoke with the befogged feeling that something important had happened. But had he gotten through? The ring of mermen was gone, and it was dawn, gray, chill with the forewarnings of rain in the air. He was reassured because he was certain that in spite of the gloom his sight was a fraction clearer than it had been the day before. But had they gotten through? As he arose, brushing the sand from him, he saw the scout splashing out of the sea, a fish impaled on his spear. "Did we get through?" Raf blurted out. "Since your friend cannot reply with the mind touch, we do not know. But later we shall try again." To Raf's peering gaze Dalgard's face had a drawn, gaunt look as if he had been at hard labor during the hours just past. He walked up the beach slowly, without the springing step Raf had come to associate with him. As he settled down to gut the fish with one of the bone knives, the scout repeated, "We can try again--!" Half an hour later, as the rain swept in from the sea, Raf knew that they would not have to try. His head went up, his face eager. He had known that sound too long and too well ever to mistake it--the drone of a flitter motor cutting through the swish of the falling water. Some trick of the cliffs behind them must be magnifying and projecting the sound, for he could not sight the machine. But it was coming. He whirled to Dalgard, only to see that the other was on his feet and had taken up his spear. "It is the flitter! Soriki heard--they're coming!" Raf hastened to assure him. For the last time he saw Dalgard's slow, warm smile, clearer than he had ever seen it before. Then the scout turned and trotted away, toward a fringing rock wall. Before he dropped out of sight behind that barrier he raised the spear in salute. "Swift and fortunate voyaging!" He gave the farewell of Homeport. Then Raf understood. The colonist meant just what he had said: he wanted no contact with the space ship. To Raf he had owed a debt and now that was paid. But the time was not yet when the men of Astra and the men of Terra should meet. A hundred years from now perhaps--or a thousand--but not yet. And remembering what had summoned the flitter winging toward him, Raf drew a deep breath. What would the men of Astra accomplish in a hundred years? What could those of Terra do to match them in knowledge? It was a challenge, and he alone knew just how much of a challenge. Homeport must remain his own secret. He had been guided to this place, saved by the mermen alone. Dalgard and his people must not exist as far as the crew of the _RS 10_ were concerned. For the last time he experienced the intimacy of the mind touch. "That is it--brother!" Then the sensation was gone as the black blot of the flitter buzzed out of the clouds. From behind the rocks Dalgard watched the pilot enter the strange machine. For a single moment he had an impulse to shout, to run forward, to surrender to his desire to see the others, the ship which had brought them through space and would, they confidently believed, take them back to the Terra he knew only as a legend of the past. But he mastered that desire. He had been right. The road had already forked and there was no going back. He must carry this secret all the rest of his life--he must be strong-willed enough so that Homeport would never know. Time--give them time to be what they could be. Then in a hundred years--or a thousand--But not yet! * * * * * "Nobody today is telling better stories of straight-forward interstellar adventure." --_New York Herald-Tribune_ When Raf Kurbi's Terran spaceship burst into unexplored skies of the far planet Astra and was immediately made welcome by the natives of a once-mighty metropolis, Kurbi was unaware of three vital things: One was that Astra already harbored an Earth colony--descended from refugees from the world of the previous century. Two was that these men and women were facing the greatest danger of their existence from a new outburst of the inhuman fiends who had once tyrannized Astra. Three was that the natives who were buying Kurbi's science know-how were those very fiends--and their intentions were implacably deadly for all humans, whether Earth born or STAR BORN. _It's an Andre Norton space adventure--and therefore the tops in its field!_ * * * * * Quotes from the reviews: "All science-fiction fans will thrill to these new adventures created by Andre Norton.... All who enjoy a good adventure about the unknown parts of our galaxy will find this an enchanting story." --_Jackson _(_Tenn._) _Sun_ "Superb science-fiction." --_Montgomery Advertiser_ "Andre Norton adds another star to her literary laurels." --_Cleveland Press_ "A good, clearly thought-out story." --_New York Times_ "Exciting and adventure-laden." --_Library Journal_ "Suspense and excitement.... A storyteller of the first class, this is one of her best." --_Fantasy & Science Fiction_ * * * * * NOW AVAILABLE AGAIN! PERRY RHODAN 95 each #1 Enterprise Stardust Scheer & Ernsting #2 The Radiant Dome Scheer & Ernsting #3 Galactic Alarm Mahr & Shols #4 Invasion from Space Ernsting & Mahr #5 The Vega Sector Scheer & Mahr #6 Secret of the Time Vault Darlton #7 Fortress of the Six Moons Scheer #8 The Galactic Riddle Darlton #9 Quest through Space and Time Darlton #10 The Ghosts of Gol Mahr #11 Planet of the Dying Sun Mahr #12 Rebels of Tuglan Darlton #13 The Immortal Unknown Darlton #14 Venus in Danger Mahr #15 Escape To Venus Mahr #16 Secret Barrier X Shols #17 The Venus Trap Mahr #18 Menace of the Mutant Master Darlton #19 Mutants vs. Mutants Darlton #20 The Thrall of Hypno Darlton _Available wherever paperbacks an sold or use this coupon._ * * * * * ace books, (Dept. MM) Box 576, Times Square Station New York, N.Y. 10036 Please send me titles checked above. I enclose $.................. Add 25 handling fee per copy. Name.................................................... Address................................................. City...................... State............ Zip........ * * * * * ANDRE NORTON Android at Arms $1.25 Beast Master $1.25 Breed to Come $1.25 Catseye $1.25 The Crossroads Of Time $1.25 Dark Piper $1.25 Daybreak 2250 A.D. $1.25 Defiant Agents $1.25 Dragon Magic $1.25 Dread Companion $1.25 Exiles of the Stars $1.25 Eye of the Monster $1.25 Forerunner Foray $1.50 Galactic Derelict $1.25 High Sorcery $1.25 Huon of the Horn $1.25 Ice Crown $1.25 Judgment on Janus $1.25 Key Out of Time $1.25 The Last Planet $1.25 Lord of Thunder $1.25 Moon of Three Rings $1.25 Night of Masks $1.25 Operation Time Search $1.25 Ordeal In Otherwhere $1.25 _Available wherever paperbacks are sold or use this coupon._ * * * * * ace books, (Dept. MM) Box 576, Times Square Station New York. N.Y. 10036 Please send me titles checked above. I enclose $................ Add 25 handling fee per copy. Name................................................ Address.......................................... City............... State........... Zip......... * * * * * ANDRE NORTON $1.25 each Plague Ship Postmarked the Stars Quest Crosstime Sargasso of Space Sea Seige Secret of the Lost Race. Shadow Hawk The Sioux Spaceman Sorceress of Witch World Star Born Star Gate Star Guard Star Hunter & Voodoo Planet The Stars are Ours Storm Over Warlock Three Against the WitchWorld The Time Traders Uncharted Stars Victory on Janus Warlock of the Witch World Web of the Witch World Witch World The X Factor Year Of The Unicorn The Zero Stone _Available wherever paperbacks are sold or use this coupon._ * * * * * ace books, (Dept. MM) Box 576, Times Square Station New York, N.Y. 10036 Please send me titles checked above. I enclose $............... Add 25 handling fee per copy. Name................................................... Address................................................. City...................... State............ Zip........ End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Star Born, by Andre Norton *** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK STAR BORN *** ***** This file should be named 18458-8.txt or 18458-8.zip ***** This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: http://www.gutenberg.org/1/8/4/5/18458/ Produced by Jason Isbell, Greg Weeks, Sankar Viswanathan, and the Online Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions will be renamed. Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation (and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without permission and without paying copyright royalties. Special rules, set forth in the General Terms of Use part of this license, apply to copying and distributing Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works to protect the PROJECT GUTENBERG-tm concept and trademark. Project Gutenberg is a registered trademark, and may not be used if you charge for the eBooks, unless you receive specific permission. If you do not charge anything for copies of this eBook, complying with the rules is very easy. You may use this eBook for nearly any purpose such as creation of derivative works, reports, performances and research. They may be modified and printed and given away--you may do practically ANYTHING with public domain eBooks. Redistribution is subject to the trademark license, especially commercial redistribution. *** START: FULL LICENSE *** THE FULL PROJECT GUTENBERG LICENSE PLEASE READ THIS BEFORE YOU DISTRIBUTE OR USE THIS WORK To protect the Project Gutenberg-tm mission of promoting the free distribution of electronic works, by using or distributing this work (or any other work associated in any way with the phrase "Project Gutenberg"), you agree to comply with all the terms of the Full Project Gutenberg-tm License (available with this file or online at http://gutenberg.org/license). Section 1. General Terms of Use and Redistributing Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works 1.A. By reading or using any part of this Project Gutenberg-tm electronic work, you indicate that you have read, understand, agree to and accept all the terms of this license and intellectual property (trademark/copyright) agreement. If you do not agree to abide by all the terms of this agreement, you must cease using and return or destroy all copies of Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works in your possession. If you paid a fee for obtaining a copy of or access to a Project Gutenberg-tm electronic work and you do not agree to be bound by the terms of this agreement, you may obtain a refund from the person or entity to whom you paid the fee as set forth in paragraph 1.E.8. 1.B. "Project Gutenberg" is a registered trademark. It may only be used on or associated in any way with an electronic work by people who agree to be bound by the terms of this agreement. There are a few things that you can do with most Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works even without complying with the full terms of this agreement. See paragraph 1.C below. There are a lot of things you can do with Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works if you follow the terms of this agreement and help preserve free future access to Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works. See paragraph 1.E below. 1.C. The Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation ("the Foundation" or PGLAF), owns a compilation copyright in the collection of Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works. Nearly all the individual works in the collection are in the public domain in the United States. If an individual work is in the public domain in the United States and you are located in the United States, we do not claim a right to prevent you from copying, distributing, performing, displaying or creating derivative works based on the work as long as all references to Project Gutenberg are removed. Of course, we hope that you will support the Project Gutenberg-tm mission of promoting free access to electronic works by freely sharing Project Gutenberg-tm works in compliance with the terms of this agreement for keeping the Project Gutenberg-tm name associated with the work. You can easily comply with the terms of this agreement by keeping this work in the same format with its attached full Project Gutenberg-tm License when you share it without charge with others. 1.D. The copyright laws of the place where you are located also govern what you can do with this work. Copyright laws in most countries are in a constant state of change. If you are outside the United States, check the laws of your country in addition to the terms of this agreement before downloading, copying, displaying, performing, distributing or creating derivative works based on this work or any other Project Gutenberg-tm work. The Foundation makes no representations concerning the copyright status of any work in any country outside the United States. 1.E. Unless you have removed all references to Project Gutenberg: 1.E.1. The following sentence, with active links to, or other immediate access to, the full Project Gutenberg-tm License must appear prominently whenever any copy of a Project Gutenberg-tm work (any work on which the phrase "Project Gutenberg" appears, or with which the phrase "Project Gutenberg" is associated) is accessed, displayed, performed, viewed, copied or distributed: This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org 1.E.2. If an individual Project Gutenberg-tm electronic work is derived from the public domain (does not contain a notice indicating that it is posted with permission of the copyright holder), the work can be copied and distributed to anyone in the United States without paying any fees or charges. If you are redistributing or providing access to a work with the phrase "Project Gutenberg" associated with or appearing on the work, you must comply either with the requirements of paragraphs 1.E.1 through 1.E.7 or obtain permission for the use of the work and the Project Gutenberg-tm trademark as set forth in paragraphs 1.E.8 or 1.E.9. 1.E.3. If an individual Project Gutenberg-tm electronic work is posted with the permission of the copyright holder, your use and distribution must comply with both paragraphs 1.E.1 through 1.E.7 and any additional terms imposed by the copyright holder. Additional terms will be linked to the Project Gutenberg-tm License for all works posted with the permission of the copyright holder found at the beginning of this work. 1.E.4. Do not unlink or detach or remove the full Project Gutenberg-tm License terms from this work, or any files containing a part of this work or any other work associated with Project Gutenberg-tm. 1.E.5. Do not copy, display, perform, distribute or redistribute this electronic work, or any part of this electronic work, without prominently displaying the sentence set forth in paragraph 1.E.1 with active links or immediate access to the full terms of the Project Gutenberg-tm License. 1.E.6. You may convert to and distribute this work in any binary, compressed, marked up, nonproprietary or proprietary form, including any word processing or hypertext form. However, if you provide access to or distribute copies of a Project Gutenberg-tm work in a format other than "Plain Vanilla ASCII" or other format used in the official version posted on the official Project Gutenberg-tm web site (www.gutenberg.org), you must, at no additional cost, fee or expense to the user, provide a copy, a means of exporting a copy, or a means of obtaining a copy upon request, of the work in its original "Plain Vanilla ASCII" or other form. Any alternate format must include the full Project Gutenberg-tm License as specified in paragraph 1.E.1. 1.E.7. Do not charge a fee for access to, viewing, displaying, performing, copying or distributing any Project Gutenberg-tm works unless you comply with paragraph 1.E.8 or 1.E.9. 1.E.8. You may charge a reasonable fee for copies of or providing access to or distributing Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works provided that - You pay a royalty fee of 20% of the gross profits you derive from the use of Project Gutenberg-tm works calculated using the method you already use to calculate your applicable taxes. The fee is owed to the owner of the Project Gutenberg-tm trademark, but he has agreed to donate royalties under this paragraph to the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation. Royalty payments must be paid within 60 days following each date on which you prepare (or are legally required to prepare) your periodic tax returns. Royalty payments should be clearly marked as such and sent to the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation at the address specified in Section 4, "Information about donations to the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation." - You provide a full refund of any money paid by a user who notifies you in writing (or by e-mail) within 30 days of receipt that s/he does not agree to the terms of the full Project Gutenberg-tm License. You must require such a user to return or destroy all copies of the works possessed in a physical medium and discontinue all use of and all access to other copies of Project Gutenberg-tm works. - You provide, in accordance with paragraph 1.F.3, a full refund of any money paid for a work or a replacement copy, if a defect in the electronic work is discovered and reported to you within 90 days of receipt of the work. - You comply with all other terms of this agreement for free distribution of Project Gutenberg-tm works. 1.E.9. If you wish to charge a fee or distribute a Project Gutenberg-tm electronic work or group of works on different terms than are set forth in this agreement, you must obtain permission in writing from both the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation and Michael Hart, the owner of the Project Gutenberg-tm trademark. Contact the Foundation as set forth in Section 3 below. 1.F. 1.F.1. Project Gutenberg volunteers and employees expend considerable effort to identify, do copyright research on, transcribe and proofread public domain works in creating the Project Gutenberg-tm collection. Despite these efforts, Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works, and the medium on which they may be stored, may contain "Defects," such as, but not limited to, incomplete, inaccurate or corrupt data, transcription errors, a copyright or other intellectual property infringement, a defective or damaged disk or other medium, a computer virus, or computer codes that damage or cannot be read by your equipment. 1.F.2. LIMITED WARRANTY, DISCLAIMER OF DAMAGES - Except for the "Right of Replacement or Refund" described in paragraph 1.F.3, the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation, the owner of the Project Gutenberg-tm trademark, and any other party distributing a Project Gutenberg-tm electronic work under this agreement, disclaim all liability to you for damages, costs and expenses, including legal fees. YOU AGREE THAT YOU HAVE NO REMEDIES FOR NEGLIGENCE, STRICT LIABILITY, BREACH OF WARRANTY OR BREACH OF CONTRACT EXCEPT THOSE PROVIDED IN PARAGRAPH F3. YOU AGREE THAT THE FOUNDATION, THE TRADEMARK OWNER, AND ANY DISTRIBUTOR UNDER THIS AGREEMENT WILL NOT BE LIABLE TO YOU FOR ACTUAL, DIRECT, INDIRECT, CONSEQUENTIAL, PUNITIVE OR INCIDENTAL DAMAGES EVEN IF YOU GIVE NOTICE OF THE POSSIBILITY OF SUCH DAMAGE. 1.F.3. LIMITED RIGHT OF REPLACEMENT OR REFUND - If you discover a defect in this electronic work within 90 days of receiving it, you can receive a refund of the money (if any) you paid for it by sending a written explanation to the person you received the work from. If you received the work on a physical medium, you must return the medium with your written explanation. The person or entity that provided you with the defective work may elect to provide a replacement copy in lieu of a refund. If you received the work electronically, the person or entity providing it to you may choose to give you a second opportunity to receive the work electronically in lieu of a refund. If the second copy is also defective, you may demand a refund in writing without further opportunities to fix the problem. 1.F.4. Except for the limited right of replacement or refund set forth in paragraph 1.F.3, this work is provided to you 'AS-IS' WITH NO OTHER WARRANTIES OF ANY KIND, EXPRESS OR IMPLIED, INCLUDING BUT NOT LIMITED TO WARRANTIES OF MERCHANTIBILITY OR FITNESS FOR ANY PURPOSE. 1.F.5. Some states do not allow disclaimers of certain implied warranties or the exclusion or limitation of certain types of damages. If any disclaimer or limitation set forth in this agreement violates the law of the state applicable to this agreement, the agreement shall be interpreted to make the maximum disclaimer or limitation permitted by the applicable state law. The invalidity or unenforceability of any provision of this agreement shall not void the remaining provisions. 1.F.6. INDEMNITY - You agree to indemnify and hold the Foundation, the trademark owner, any agent or employee of the Foundation, anyone providing copies of Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works in accordance with this agreement, and any volunteers associated with the production, promotion and distribution of Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works, harmless from all liability, costs and expenses, including legal fees, that arise directly or indirectly from any of the following which you do or cause to occur: (a) distribution of this or any Project Gutenberg-tm work, (b) alteration, modification, or additions or deletions to any Project Gutenberg-tm work, and (c) any Defect you cause. Section 2. Information about the Mission of Project Gutenberg-tm Project Gutenberg-tm is synonymous with the free distribution of electronic works in formats readable by the widest variety of computers including obsolete, old, middle-aged and new computers. It exists because of the efforts of hundreds of volunteers and donations from people in all walks of life. Volunteers and financial support to provide volunteers with the assistance they need, is critical to reaching Project Gutenberg-tm's goals and ensuring that the Project Gutenberg-tm collection will remain freely available for generations to come. In 2001, the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation was created to provide a secure and permanent future for Project Gutenberg-tm and future generations. To learn more about the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation and how your efforts and donations can help, see Sections 3 and 4 and the Foundation web page at http://www.pglaf.org. Section 3. Information about the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation The Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation is a non profit 501(c)(3) educational corporation organized under the laws of the state of Mississippi and granted tax exempt status by the Internal Revenue Service. The Foundation's EIN or federal tax identification number is 64-6221541. Its 501(c)(3) letter is posted at http://pglaf.org/fundraising. Contributions to the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation are tax deductible to the full extent permitted by U.S. federal laws and your state's laws. The Foundation's principal office is located at 4557 Melan Dr. S. Fairbanks, AK, 99712., but its volunteers and employees are scattered throughout numerous locations. Its business office is located at 809 North 1500 West, Salt Lake City, UT 84116, (801) 596-1887, email [email protected]. Email contact links and up to date contact information can be found at the Foundation's web site and official page at http://pglaf.org For additional contact information: Dr. Gregory B. Newby

flitter

How many times the word 'flitter' appears in the text?

you to understand. No, your knowledge is not corrupt, it would not carry with it the same seeds of disaster as that of Those Others. But it would be too easy for us to accept, to walk a softer road, to forget what we have so far won. Just give us time--" Raf cupped his palms over his watering eyes. He wanted badly to see clearly the other's face, to be able to read his expression. Yet it seemed that somehow he _was_ able to see that sober face, as sincere as the words in his mind. "You will come again," Dalgard said with certainty. "And we shall be waiting because you, Raf Kurbi, made it possible." There was something so solemn about that that Raf looked up in surprise. "When you destroyed the core of Those Other's holding, you gave us our chance. For had you not done that we, the mermen, the other harmless, happy creatures of this world, would have been wiped out. There would be no new beginning here, only a dark and horrible end." Raf blinked; to his surprise that other figure standing in the direct sunlight did not waver, and beyond the proudly held head was a stretch of turquoise sky. He could see the color! "Yes, you shall see with your eyes--and with your mind," now Dalgard spoke aloud. "And if the Spirit which rules all space is kind, you shall return to your own people. For you have served His cause well." Then, as if he were embarrassed by his own solemnity, Dalgard ended with a most prosaic inquiry: "Would you like shellfish for eating?" Moments later, wading out into the water-swirled sand, his boots kicked off, his toes feeling for the elusive shelled creatures no one could see, Raf felt happier, freer than he could ever remember having been before. It was going to be all right. He could _see_! He would find the ship! He laughed aloud at nothing and heard an answering chuckle and then a whoop of triumph from the scout stooping to claw one of their prey out of hiding. It was after they had eaten that Dalgard asked another question, one which did not seem important to Raf. "You have a close friend among the crew of your ship?" Raf hesitated. Now that he was obliged to consider the point, did he have any friends--let alone a close one--among the crew of the _RS 10_? Certainly he did not claim Wonstead who had shared his quarters--he honestly did not care if he never saw him again. The officers, the experts such as Lablet--quickly face and character of each swept through his mind and was as swiftly discarded. There was Soriki--He could not claim the com-tech as any special friend, but at least during their period together among the aliens he had come to know him better. Now, as if Dalgard had read his mind--and he probably had, thought Raf with a flash of the old resentment--he had another question. "And what was he--is he like?" Though the pilot could see little reason for this he answered as best he could, trying to build first a physical picture of the com-tech and then doing a little guessing as to what lay under the other's space-burned skin. Dalgard lay on his back, gazing up into the blue-green sky. Yet Raf knew that he was intent on every word. A merman padded up, settled down cross-legged beside the scout, as if he too were enthralled by the pilot's halting description of a man he might never see again. Then a second of the sea people came and a third, until Raf felt that some sort of a noiseless council was in progress. His words trailed away, and then Dalgard offered an explanation. "It will take us many, many days to reach the place where your ship is. And before we are able to complete that journey your friends may be gone. So we shall try something else--with your aid." Raf fingered the little bundle of his possessions. Even his helmet with its com phone was missing. "No," again Dalgard read his mind. "Your machines are of no use to you now. We shall try _our_ way." "How?" Wild thoughts of a big signal fire--But how could that be sighted across a mountain range. Of some sort of an improvised com unit-- "I said _our_ way." There was a smile on Dalgard's face, visible to Raf's slowly clearing vision. "We shall provide another kind of machine, and these"--he waved at the mermen--"will give us the power, or so we hope. Lie here," he gestured to the sand beside him, "and think only of your friend in the ship, in his natural surroundings. Try to hold that picture constant in your mind, letting no other thought trouble it." "Do you mean--send a message to him mentally!" Raf's reply was half protest. "Did I not so reach you when we were in the city--even before I knew of you as an individual?" the scout reminded him. "And such messages are doubly possible when they are sent from friend to friend." "But we were close then." "That is why--" again Dalgard indicated the mermen. "For them this is the natural means of communication. They will pick up your reaching thought, amplify it with their power, beam it north. Since your friend deals with matters of communication, let us hope that he will be sensitive to this method." Raf was only half convinced that it might work But he remembered how Dalgard had established contact with him, before, as the scout had pointed out, they had met. It was that voiceless cry for aid which had pulled him into this adventure in the first place. It was only fitting that something of the same process give _him_ help in return. Obediently he stretched out on the sand and closed his dim eyes, trying to picture Soriki in the small cabin which held the com, slouched in his bucket seat, his deceptive posture that of a lax idler, as he had seen him so many times. Soriki--his broad face with its flat cheekbones, its wide cheerful mouth, its heavy-lidded eyes. And having fixed Soriki's face, he tried to believe that he was now confronting the com-tech, speaking directly to him. "Come--come and get me--south--seashore--Soriki come and get me!" The words formed a kind of chant, a chant aimed at that familiar face in its familiar surroundings. "South--come and get me--" Raf struggled to think only of that, to allow nothing to break through that chant or disturb his picture of the scene he had called from memory. How long that attempt at communication lasted the pilot could not tell, for somehow he slipped from the deep concentration into sleep, dreamless and untroubled, from which he awoke with the befogged feeling that something important had happened. But had he gotten through? The ring of mermen was gone, and it was dawn, gray, chill with the forewarnings of rain in the air. He was reassured because he was certain that in spite of the gloom his sight was a fraction clearer than it had been the day before. But had they gotten through? As he arose, brushing the sand from him, he saw the scout splashing out of the sea, a fish impaled on his spear. "Did we get through?" Raf blurted out. "Since your friend cannot reply with the mind touch, we do not know. But later we shall try again." To Raf's peering gaze Dalgard's face had a drawn, gaunt look as if he had been at hard labor during the hours just past. He walked up the beach slowly, without the springing step Raf had come to associate with him. As he settled down to gut the fish with one of the bone knives, the scout repeated, "We can try again--!" Half an hour later, as the rain swept in from the sea, Raf knew that they would not have to try. His head went up, his face eager. He had known that sound too long and too well ever to mistake it--the drone of a flitter motor cutting through the swish of the falling water. Some trick of the cliffs behind them must be magnifying and projecting the sound, for he could not sight the machine. But it was coming. He whirled to Dalgard, only to see that the other was on his feet and had taken up his spear. "It is the flitter! Soriki heard--they're coming!" Raf hastened to assure him. For the last time he saw Dalgard's slow, warm smile, clearer than he had ever seen it before. Then the scout turned and trotted away, toward a fringing rock wall. Before he dropped out of sight behind that barrier he raised the spear in salute. "Swift and fortunate voyaging!" He gave the farewell of Homeport. Then Raf understood. The colonist meant just what he had said: he wanted no contact with the space ship. To Raf he had owed a debt and now that was paid. But the time was not yet when the men of Astra and the men of Terra should meet. A hundred years from now perhaps--or a thousand--but not yet. And remembering what had summoned the flitter winging toward him, Raf drew a deep breath. What would the men of Astra accomplish in a hundred years? What could those of Terra do to match them in knowledge? It was a challenge, and he alone knew just how much of a challenge. Homeport must remain his own secret. He had been guided to this place, saved by the mermen alone. Dalgard and his people must not exist as far as the crew of the _RS 10_ were concerned. For the last time he experienced the intimacy of the mind touch. "That is it--brother!" Then the sensation was gone as the black blot of the flitter buzzed out of the clouds. From behind the rocks Dalgard watched the pilot enter the strange machine. For a single moment he had an impulse to shout, to run forward, to surrender to his desire to see the others, the ship which had brought them through space and would, they confidently believed, take them back to the Terra he knew only as a legend of the past. But he mastered that desire. He had been right. The road had already forked and there was no going back. He must carry this secret all the rest of his life--he must be strong-willed enough so that Homeport would never know. Time--give them time to be what they could be. Then in a hundred years--or a thousand--But not yet! * * * * * "Nobody today is telling better stories of straight-forward interstellar adventure." --_New York Herald-Tribune_ When Raf Kurbi's Terran spaceship burst into unexplored skies of the far planet Astra and was immediately made welcome by the natives of a once-mighty metropolis, Kurbi was unaware of three vital things: One was that Astra already harbored an Earth colony--descended from refugees from the world of the previous century. Two was that these men and women were facing the greatest danger of their existence from a new outburst of the inhuman fiends who had once tyrannized Astra. Three was that the natives who were buying Kurbi's science know-how were those very fiends--and their intentions were implacably deadly for all humans, whether Earth born or STAR BORN. _It's an Andre Norton space adventure--and therefore the tops in its field!_ * * * * * Quotes from the reviews: "All science-fiction fans will thrill to these new adventures created by Andre Norton.... All who enjoy a good adventure about the unknown parts of our galaxy will find this an enchanting story." --_Jackson _(_Tenn._) _Sun_ "Superb science-fiction." --_Montgomery Advertiser_ "Andre Norton adds another star to her literary laurels." --_Cleveland Press_ "A good, clearly thought-out story." --_New York Times_ "Exciting and adventure-laden." --_Library Journal_ "Suspense and excitement.... A storyteller of the first class, this is one of her best." --_Fantasy & Science Fiction_ * * * * * NOW AVAILABLE AGAIN! PERRY RHODAN 95 each #1 Enterprise Stardust Scheer & Ernsting #2 The Radiant Dome Scheer & Ernsting #3 Galactic Alarm Mahr & Shols #4 Invasion from Space Ernsting & Mahr #5 The Vega Sector Scheer & Mahr #6 Secret of the Time Vault Darlton #7 Fortress of the Six Moons Scheer #8 The Galactic Riddle Darlton #9 Quest through Space and Time Darlton #10 The Ghosts of Gol Mahr #11 Planet of the Dying Sun Mahr #12 Rebels of Tuglan Darlton #13 The Immortal Unknown Darlton #14 Venus in Danger Mahr #15 Escape To Venus Mahr #16 Secret Barrier X Shols #17 The Venus Trap Mahr #18 Menace of the Mutant Master Darlton #19 Mutants vs. Mutants Darlton #20 The Thrall of Hypno Darlton _Available wherever paperbacks an sold or use this coupon._ * * * * * ace books, (Dept. MM) Box 576, Times Square Station New York, N.Y. 10036 Please send me titles checked above. I enclose $.................. Add 25 handling fee per copy. Name.................................................... Address................................................. City...................... State............ Zip........ * * * * * ANDRE NORTON Android at Arms $1.25 Beast Master $1.25 Breed to Come $1.25 Catseye $1.25 The Crossroads Of Time $1.25 Dark Piper $1.25 Daybreak 2250 A.D. $1.25 Defiant Agents $1.25 Dragon Magic $1.25 Dread Companion $1.25 Exiles of the Stars $1.25 Eye of the Monster $1.25 Forerunner Foray $1.50 Galactic Derelict $1.25 High Sorcery $1.25 Huon of the Horn $1.25 Ice Crown $1.25 Judgment on Janus $1.25 Key Out of Time $1.25 The Last Planet $1.25 Lord of Thunder $1.25 Moon of Three Rings $1.25 Night of Masks $1.25 Operation Time Search $1.25 Ordeal In Otherwhere $1.25 _Available wherever paperbacks are sold or use this coupon._ * * * * * ace books, (Dept. MM) Box 576, Times Square Station New York. N.Y. 10036 Please send me titles checked above. I enclose $................ Add 25 handling fee per copy. Name................................................ Address.......................................... City............... State........... Zip......... * * * * * ANDRE NORTON $1.25 each Plague Ship Postmarked the Stars Quest Crosstime Sargasso of Space Sea Seige Secret of the Lost Race. Shadow Hawk The Sioux Spaceman Sorceress of Witch World Star Born Star Gate Star Guard Star Hunter & Voodoo Planet The Stars are Ours Storm Over Warlock Three Against the WitchWorld The Time Traders Uncharted Stars Victory on Janus Warlock of the Witch World Web of the Witch World Witch World The X Factor Year Of The Unicorn The Zero Stone _Available wherever paperbacks are sold or use this coupon._ * * * * * ace books, (Dept. MM) Box 576, Times Square Station New York, N.Y. 10036 Please send me titles checked above. I enclose $............... Add 25 handling fee per copy. Name................................................... Address................................................. City...................... State............ Zip........ End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Star Born, by Andre Norton *** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK STAR BORN *** ***** This file should be named 18458-8.txt or 18458-8.zip ***** This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: http://www.gutenberg.org/1/8/4/5/18458/ Produced by Jason Isbell, Greg Weeks, Sankar Viswanathan, and the Online Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions will be renamed. Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation (and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without permission and without paying copyright royalties. Special rules, set forth in the General Terms of Use part of this license, apply to copying and distributing Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works to protect the PROJECT GUTENBERG-tm concept and trademark. Project Gutenberg is a registered trademark, and may not be used if you charge for the eBooks, unless you receive specific permission. If you do not charge anything for copies of this eBook, complying with the rules is very easy. You may use this eBook for nearly any purpose such as creation of derivative works, reports, performances and research. They may be modified and printed and given away--you may do practically ANYTHING with public domain eBooks. Redistribution is subject to the trademark license, especially commercial redistribution. *** START: FULL LICENSE *** THE FULL PROJECT GUTENBERG LICENSE PLEASE READ THIS BEFORE YOU DISTRIBUTE OR USE THIS WORK To protect the Project Gutenberg-tm mission of promoting the free distribution of electronic works, by using or distributing this work (or any other work associated in any way with the phrase "Project Gutenberg"), you agree to comply with all the terms of the Full Project Gutenberg-tm License (available with this file or online at http://gutenberg.org/license). Section 1. General Terms of Use and Redistributing Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works 1.A. By reading or using any part of this Project Gutenberg-tm electronic work, you indicate that you have read, understand, agree to and accept all the terms of this license and intellectual property (trademark/copyright) agreement. If you do not agree to abide by all the terms of this agreement, you must cease using and return or destroy all copies of Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works in your possession. If you paid a fee for obtaining a copy of or access to a Project Gutenberg-tm electronic work and you do not agree to be bound by the terms of this agreement, you may obtain a refund from the person or entity to whom you paid the fee as set forth in paragraph 1.E.8. 1.B. "Project Gutenberg" is a registered trademark. It may only be used on or associated in any way with an electronic work by people who agree to be bound by the terms of this agreement. There are a few things that you can do with most Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works even without complying with the full terms of this agreement. See paragraph 1.C below. There are a lot of things you can do with Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works if you follow the terms of this agreement and help preserve free future access to Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works. See paragraph 1.E below. 1.C. The Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation ("the Foundation" or PGLAF), owns a compilation copyright in the collection of Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works. Nearly all the individual works in the collection are in the public domain in the United States. If an individual work is in the public domain in the United States and you are located in the United States, we do not claim a right to prevent you from copying, distributing, performing, displaying or creating derivative works based on the work as long as all references to Project Gutenberg are removed. Of course, we hope that you will support the Project Gutenberg-tm mission of promoting free access to electronic works by freely sharing Project Gutenberg-tm works in compliance with the terms of this agreement for keeping the Project Gutenberg-tm name associated with the work. You can easily comply with the terms of this agreement by keeping this work in the same format with its attached full Project Gutenberg-tm License when you share it without charge with others. 1.D. The copyright laws of the place where you are located also govern what you can do with this work. Copyright laws in most countries are in a constant state of change. If you are outside the United States, check the laws of your country in addition to the terms of this agreement before downloading, copying, displaying, performing, distributing or creating derivative works based on this work or any other Project Gutenberg-tm work. The Foundation makes no representations concerning the copyright status of any work in any country outside the United States. 1.E. Unless you have removed all references to Project Gutenberg: 1.E.1. The following sentence, with active links to, or other immediate access to, the full Project Gutenberg-tm License must appear prominently whenever any copy of a Project Gutenberg-tm work (any work on which the phrase "Project Gutenberg" appears, or with which the phrase "Project Gutenberg" is associated) is accessed, displayed, performed, viewed, copied or distributed: This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org 1.E.2. If an individual Project Gutenberg-tm electronic work is derived from the public domain (does not contain a notice indicating that it is posted with permission of the copyright holder), the work can be copied and distributed to anyone in the United States without paying any fees or charges. If you are redistributing or providing access to a work with the phrase "Project Gutenberg" associated with or appearing on the work, you must comply either with the requirements of paragraphs 1.E.1 through 1.E.7 or obtain permission for the use of the work and the Project Gutenberg-tm trademark as set forth in paragraphs 1.E.8 or 1.E.9. 1.E.3. If an individual Project Gutenberg-tm electronic work is posted with the permission of the copyright holder, your use and distribution must comply with both paragraphs 1.E.1 through 1.E.7 and any additional terms imposed by the copyright holder. Additional terms will be linked to the Project Gutenberg-tm License for all works posted with the permission of the copyright holder found at the beginning of this work. 1.E.4. Do not unlink or detach or remove the full Project Gutenberg-tm License terms from this work, or any files containing a part of this work or any other work associated with Project Gutenberg-tm. 1.E.5. Do not copy, display, perform, distribute or redistribute this electronic work, or any part of this electronic work, without prominently displaying the sentence set forth in paragraph 1.E.1 with active links or immediate access to the full terms of the Project Gutenberg-tm License. 1.E.6. You may convert to and distribute this work in any binary, compressed, marked up, nonproprietary or proprietary form, including any word processing or hypertext form. However, if you provide access to or distribute copies of a Project Gutenberg-tm work in a format other than "Plain Vanilla ASCII" or other format used in the official version posted on the official Project Gutenberg-tm web site (www.gutenberg.org), you must, at no additional cost, fee or expense to the user, provide a copy, a means of exporting a copy, or a means of obtaining a copy upon request, of the work in its original "Plain Vanilla ASCII" or other form. Any alternate format must include the full Project Gutenberg-tm License as specified in paragraph 1.E.1. 1.E.7. Do not charge a fee for access to, viewing, displaying, performing, copying or distributing any Project Gutenberg-tm works unless you comply with paragraph 1.E.8 or 1.E.9. 1.E.8. You may charge a reasonable fee for copies of or providing access to or distributing Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works provided that - You pay a royalty fee of 20% of the gross profits you derive from the use of Project Gutenberg-tm works calculated using the method you already use to calculate your applicable taxes. The fee is owed to the owner of the Project Gutenberg-tm trademark, but he has agreed to donate royalties under this paragraph to the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation. Royalty payments must be paid within 60 days following each date on which you prepare (or are legally required to prepare) your periodic tax returns. Royalty payments should be clearly marked as such and sent to the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation at the address specified in Section 4, "Information about donations to the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation." - You provide a full refund of any money paid by a user who notifies you in writing (or by e-mail) within 30 days of receipt that s/he does not agree to the terms of the full Project Gutenberg-tm License. You must require such a user to return or destroy all copies of the works possessed in a physical medium and discontinue all use of and all access to other copies of Project Gutenberg-tm works. - You provide, in accordance with paragraph 1.F.3, a full refund of any money paid for a work or a replacement copy, if a defect in the electronic work is discovered and reported to you within 90 days of receipt of the work. - You comply with all other terms of this agreement for free distribution of Project Gutenberg-tm works. 1.E.9. If you wish to charge a fee or distribute a Project Gutenberg-tm electronic work or group of works on different terms than are set forth in this agreement, you must obtain permission in writing from both the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation and Michael Hart, the owner of the Project Gutenberg-tm trademark. Contact the Foundation as set forth in Section 3 below. 1.F. 1.F.1. Project Gutenberg volunteers and employees expend considerable effort to identify, do copyright research on, transcribe and proofread public domain works in creating the Project Gutenberg-tm collection. Despite these efforts, Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works, and the medium on which they may be stored, may contain "Defects," such as, but not limited to, incomplete, inaccurate or corrupt data, transcription errors, a copyright or other intellectual property infringement, a defective or damaged disk or other medium, a computer virus, or computer codes that damage or cannot be read by your equipment. 1.F.2. LIMITED WARRANTY, DISCLAIMER OF DAMAGES - Except for the "Right of Replacement or Refund" described in paragraph 1.F.3, the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation, the owner of the Project Gutenberg-tm trademark, and any other party distributing a Project Gutenberg-tm electronic work under this agreement, disclaim all liability to you for damages, costs and expenses, including legal fees. YOU AGREE THAT YOU HAVE NO REMEDIES FOR NEGLIGENCE, STRICT LIABILITY, BREACH OF WARRANTY OR BREACH OF CONTRACT EXCEPT THOSE PROVIDED IN PARAGRAPH F3. YOU AGREE THAT THE FOUNDATION, THE TRADEMARK OWNER, AND ANY DISTRIBUTOR UNDER THIS AGREEMENT WILL NOT BE LIABLE TO YOU FOR ACTUAL, DIRECT, INDIRECT, CONSEQUENTIAL, PUNITIVE OR INCIDENTAL DAMAGES EVEN IF YOU GIVE NOTICE OF THE POSSIBILITY OF SUCH DAMAGE. 1.F.3. LIMITED RIGHT OF REPLACEMENT OR REFUND - If you discover a defect in this electronic work within 90 days of receiving it, you can receive a refund of the money (if any) you paid for it by sending a written explanation to the person you received the work from. If you received the work on a physical medium, you must return the medium with your written explanation. The person or entity that provided you with the defective work may elect to provide a replacement copy in lieu of a refund. If you received the work electronically, the person or entity providing it to you may choose to give you a second opportunity to receive the work electronically in lieu of a refund. If the second copy is also defective, you may demand a refund in writing without further opportunities to fix the problem. 1.F.4. Except for the limited right of replacement or refund set forth in paragraph 1.F.3, this work is provided to you 'AS-IS' WITH NO OTHER WARRANTIES OF ANY KIND, EXPRESS OR IMPLIED, INCLUDING BUT NOT LIMITED TO WARRANTIES OF MERCHANTIBILITY OR FITNESS FOR ANY PURPOSE. 1.F.5. Some states do not allow disclaimers of certain implied warranties or the exclusion or limitation of certain types of damages. If any disclaimer or limitation set forth in this agreement violates the law of the state applicable to this agreement, the agreement shall be interpreted to make the maximum disclaimer or limitation permitted by the applicable state law. The invalidity or unenforceability of any provision of this agreement shall not void the remaining provisions. 1.F.6. INDEMNITY - You agree to indemnify and hold the Foundation, the trademark owner, any agent or employee of the Foundation, anyone providing copies of Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works in accordance with this agreement, and any volunteers associated with the production, promotion and distribution of Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works, harmless from all liability, costs and expenses, including legal fees, that arise directly or indirectly from any of the following which you do or cause to occur: (a) distribution of this or any Project Gutenberg-tm work, (b) alteration, modification, or additions or deletions to any Project Gutenberg-tm work, and (c) any Defect you cause. Section 2. Information about the Mission of Project Gutenberg-tm Project Gutenberg-tm is synonymous with the free distribution of electronic works in formats readable by the widest variety of computers including obsolete, old, middle-aged and new computers. It exists because of the efforts of hundreds of volunteers and donations from people in all walks of life. Volunteers and financial support to provide volunteers with the assistance they need, is critical to reaching Project Gutenberg-tm's goals and ensuring that the Project Gutenberg-tm collection will remain freely available for generations to come. In 2001, the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation was created to provide a secure and permanent future for Project Gutenberg-tm and future generations. To learn more about the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation and how your efforts and donations can help, see Sections 3 and 4 and the Foundation web page at http://www.pglaf.org. Section 3. Information about the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation The Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation is a non profit 501(c)(3) educational corporation organized under the laws of the state of Mississippi and granted tax exempt status by the Internal Revenue Service. The Foundation's EIN or federal tax identification number is 64-6221541. Its 501(c)(3) letter is posted at http://pglaf.org/fundraising. Contributions to the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation are tax deductible to the full extent permitted by U.S. federal laws and your state's laws. The Foundation's principal office is located at 4557 Melan Dr. S. Fairbanks, AK, 99712., but its volunteers and employees are scattered throughout numerous locations. Its business office is located at 809 North 1500 West, Salt Lake City, UT 84116, (801) 596-1887, email [email protected]. Email contact links and up to date contact information can be found at the Foundation's web site and official page at http://pglaf.org For additional contact information: Dr. Gregory B. Newby

stamp

How many times the word 'stamp' appears in the text?

you to understand. No, your knowledge is not corrupt, it would not carry with it the same seeds of disaster as that of Those Others. But it would be too easy for us to accept, to walk a softer road, to forget what we have so far won. Just give us time--" Raf cupped his palms over his watering eyes. He wanted badly to see clearly the other's face, to be able to read his expression. Yet it seemed that somehow he _was_ able to see that sober face, as sincere as the words in his mind. "You will come again," Dalgard said with certainty. "And we shall be waiting because you, Raf Kurbi, made it possible." There was something so solemn about that that Raf looked up in surprise. "When you destroyed the core of Those Other's holding, you gave us our chance. For had you not done that we, the mermen, the other harmless, happy creatures of this world, would have been wiped out. There would be no new beginning here, only a dark and horrible end." Raf blinked; to his surprise that other figure standing in the direct sunlight did not waver, and beyond the proudly held head was a stretch of turquoise sky. He could see the color! "Yes, you shall see with your eyes--and with your mind," now Dalgard spoke aloud. "And if the Spirit which rules all space is kind, you shall return to your own people. For you have served His cause well." Then, as if he were embarrassed by his own solemnity, Dalgard ended with a most prosaic inquiry: "Would you like shellfish for eating?" Moments later, wading out into the water-swirled sand, his boots kicked off, his toes feeling for the elusive shelled creatures no one could see, Raf felt happier, freer than he could ever remember having been before. It was going to be all right. He could _see_! He would find the ship! He laughed aloud at nothing and heard an answering chuckle and then a whoop of triumph from the scout stooping to claw one of their prey out of hiding. It was after they had eaten that Dalgard asked another question, one which did not seem important to Raf. "You have a close friend among the crew of your ship?" Raf hesitated. Now that he was obliged to consider the point, did he have any friends--let alone a close one--among the crew of the _RS 10_? Certainly he did not claim Wonstead who had shared his quarters--he honestly did not care if he never saw him again. The officers, the experts such as Lablet--quickly face and character of each swept through his mind and was as swiftly discarded. There was Soriki--He could not claim the com-tech as any special friend, but at least during their period together among the aliens he had come to know him better. Now, as if Dalgard had read his mind--and he probably had, thought Raf with a flash of the old resentment--he had another question. "And what was he--is he like?" Though the pilot could see little reason for this he answered as best he could, trying to build first a physical picture of the com-tech and then doing a little guessing as to what lay under the other's space-burned skin. Dalgard lay on his back, gazing up into the blue-green sky. Yet Raf knew that he was intent on every word. A merman padded up, settled down cross-legged beside the scout, as if he too were enthralled by the pilot's halting description of a man he might never see again. Then a second of the sea people came and a third, until Raf felt that some sort of a noiseless council was in progress. His words trailed away, and then Dalgard offered an explanation. "It will take us many, many days to reach the place where your ship is. And before we are able to complete that journey your friends may be gone. So we shall try something else--with your aid." Raf fingered the little bundle of his possessions. Even his helmet with its com phone was missing. "No," again Dalgard read his mind. "Your machines are of no use to you now. We shall try _our_ way." "How?" Wild thoughts of a big signal fire--But how could that be sighted across a mountain range. Of some sort of an improvised com unit-- "I said _our_ way." There was a smile on Dalgard's face, visible to Raf's slowly clearing vision. "We shall provide another kind of machine, and these"--he waved at the mermen--"will give us the power, or so we hope. Lie here," he gestured to the sand beside him, "and think only of your friend in the ship, in his natural surroundings. Try to hold that picture constant in your mind, letting no other thought trouble it." "Do you mean--send a message to him mentally!" Raf's reply was half protest. "Did I not so reach you when we were in the city--even before I knew of you as an individual?" the scout reminded him. "And such messages are doubly possible when they are sent from friend to friend." "But we were close then." "That is why--" again Dalgard indicated the mermen. "For them this is the natural means of communication. They will pick up your reaching thought, amplify it with their power, beam it north. Since your friend deals with matters of communication, let us hope that he will be sensitive to this method." Raf was only half convinced that it might work But he remembered how Dalgard had established contact with him, before, as the scout had pointed out, they had met. It was that voiceless cry for aid which had pulled him into this adventure in the first place. It was only fitting that something of the same process give _him_ help in return. Obediently he stretched out on the sand and closed his dim eyes, trying to picture Soriki in the small cabin which held the com, slouched in his bucket seat, his deceptive posture that of a lax idler, as he had seen him so many times. Soriki--his broad face with its flat cheekbones, its wide cheerful mouth, its heavy-lidded eyes. And having fixed Soriki's face, he tried to believe that he was now confronting the com-tech, speaking directly to him. "Come--come and get me--south--seashore--Soriki come and get me!" The words formed a kind of chant, a chant aimed at that familiar face in its familiar surroundings. "South--come and get me--" Raf struggled to think only of that, to allow nothing to break through that chant or disturb his picture of the scene he had called from memory. How long that attempt at communication lasted the pilot could not tell, for somehow he slipped from the deep concentration into sleep, dreamless and untroubled, from which he awoke with the befogged feeling that something important had happened. But had he gotten through? The ring of mermen was gone, and it was dawn, gray, chill with the forewarnings of rain in the air. He was reassured because he was certain that in spite of the gloom his sight was a fraction clearer than it had been the day before. But had they gotten through? As he arose, brushing the sand from him, he saw the scout splashing out of the sea, a fish impaled on his spear. "Did we get through?" Raf blurted out. "Since your friend cannot reply with the mind touch, we do not know. But later we shall try again." To Raf's peering gaze Dalgard's face had a drawn, gaunt look as if he had been at hard labor during the hours just past. He walked up the beach slowly, without the springing step Raf had come to associate with him. As he settled down to gut the fish with one of the bone knives, the scout repeated, "We can try again--!" Half an hour later, as the rain swept in from the sea, Raf knew that they would not have to try. His head went up, his face eager. He had known that sound too long and too well ever to mistake it--the drone of a flitter motor cutting through the swish of the falling water. Some trick of the cliffs behind them must be magnifying and projecting the sound, for he could not sight the machine. But it was coming. He whirled to Dalgard, only to see that the other was on his feet and had taken up his spear. "It is the flitter! Soriki heard--they're coming!" Raf hastened to assure him. For the last time he saw Dalgard's slow, warm smile, clearer than he had ever seen it before. Then the scout turned and trotted away, toward a fringing rock wall. Before he dropped out of sight behind that barrier he raised the spear in salute. "Swift and fortunate voyaging!" He gave the farewell of Homeport. Then Raf understood. The colonist meant just what he had said: he wanted no contact with the space ship. To Raf he had owed a debt and now that was paid. But the time was not yet when the men of Astra and the men of Terra should meet. A hundred years from now perhaps--or a thousand--but not yet. And remembering what had summoned the flitter winging toward him, Raf drew a deep breath. What would the men of Astra accomplish in a hundred years? What could those of Terra do to match them in knowledge? It was a challenge, and he alone knew just how much of a challenge. Homeport must remain his own secret. He had been guided to this place, saved by the mermen alone. Dalgard and his people must not exist as far as the crew of the _RS 10_ were concerned. For the last time he experienced the intimacy of the mind touch. "That is it--brother!" Then the sensation was gone as the black blot of the flitter buzzed out of the clouds. From behind the rocks Dalgard watched the pilot enter the strange machine. For a single moment he had an impulse to shout, to run forward, to surrender to his desire to see the others, the ship which had brought them through space and would, they confidently believed, take them back to the Terra he knew only as a legend of the past. But he mastered that desire. He had been right. The road had already forked and there was no going back. He must carry this secret all the rest of his life--he must be strong-willed enough so that Homeport would never know. Time--give them time to be what they could be. Then in a hundred years--or a thousand--But not yet! * * * * * "Nobody today is telling better stories of straight-forward interstellar adventure." --_New York Herald-Tribune_ When Raf Kurbi's Terran spaceship burst into unexplored skies of the far planet Astra and was immediately made welcome by the natives of a once-mighty metropolis, Kurbi was unaware of three vital things: One was that Astra already harbored an Earth colony--descended from refugees from the world of the previous century. Two was that these men and women were facing the greatest danger of their existence from a new outburst of the inhuman fiends who had once tyrannized Astra. Three was that the natives who were buying Kurbi's science know-how were those very fiends--and their intentions were implacably deadly for all humans, whether Earth born or STAR BORN. _It's an Andre Norton space adventure--and therefore the tops in its field!_ * * * * * Quotes from the reviews: "All science-fiction fans will thrill to these new adventures created by Andre Norton.... All who enjoy a good adventure about the unknown parts of our galaxy will find this an enchanting story." --_Jackson _(_Tenn._) _Sun_ "Superb science-fiction." --_Montgomery Advertiser_ "Andre Norton adds another star to her literary laurels." --_Cleveland Press_ "A good, clearly thought-out story." --_New York Times_ "Exciting and adventure-laden." --_Library Journal_ "Suspense and excitement.... A storyteller of the first class, this is one of her best." --_Fantasy & Science Fiction_ * * * * * NOW AVAILABLE AGAIN! PERRY RHODAN 95 each #1 Enterprise Stardust Scheer & Ernsting #2 The Radiant Dome Scheer & Ernsting #3 Galactic Alarm Mahr & Shols #4 Invasion from Space Ernsting & Mahr #5 The Vega Sector Scheer & Mahr #6 Secret of the Time Vault Darlton #7 Fortress of the Six Moons Scheer #8 The Galactic Riddle Darlton #9 Quest through Space and Time Darlton #10 The Ghosts of Gol Mahr #11 Planet of the Dying Sun Mahr #12 Rebels of Tuglan Darlton #13 The Immortal Unknown Darlton #14 Venus in Danger Mahr #15 Escape To Venus Mahr #16 Secret Barrier X Shols #17 The Venus Trap Mahr #18 Menace of the Mutant Master Darlton #19 Mutants vs. Mutants Darlton #20 The Thrall of Hypno Darlton _Available wherever paperbacks an sold or use this coupon._ * * * * * ace books, (Dept. MM) Box 576, Times Square Station New York, N.Y. 10036 Please send me titles checked above. I enclose $.................. Add 25 handling fee per copy. Name.................................................... Address................................................. City...................... State............ Zip........ * * * * * ANDRE NORTON Android at Arms $1.25 Beast Master $1.25 Breed to Come $1.25 Catseye $1.25 The Crossroads Of Time $1.25 Dark Piper $1.25 Daybreak 2250 A.D. $1.25 Defiant Agents $1.25 Dragon Magic $1.25 Dread Companion $1.25 Exiles of the Stars $1.25 Eye of the Monster $1.25 Forerunner Foray $1.50 Galactic Derelict $1.25 High Sorcery $1.25 Huon of the Horn $1.25 Ice Crown $1.25 Judgment on Janus $1.25 Key Out of Time $1.25 The Last Planet $1.25 Lord of Thunder $1.25 Moon of Three Rings $1.25 Night of Masks $1.25 Operation Time Search $1.25 Ordeal In Otherwhere $1.25 _Available wherever paperbacks are sold or use this coupon._ * * * * * ace books, (Dept. MM) Box 576, Times Square Station New York. N.Y. 10036 Please send me titles checked above. I enclose $................ Add 25 handling fee per copy. Name................................................ Address.......................................... City............... State........... Zip......... * * * * * ANDRE NORTON $1.25 each Plague Ship Postmarked the Stars Quest Crosstime Sargasso of Space Sea Seige Secret of the Lost Race. Shadow Hawk The Sioux Spaceman Sorceress of Witch World Star Born Star Gate Star Guard Star Hunter & Voodoo Planet The Stars are Ours Storm Over Warlock Three Against the WitchWorld The Time Traders Uncharted Stars Victory on Janus Warlock of the Witch World Web of the Witch World Witch World The X Factor Year Of The Unicorn The Zero Stone _Available wherever paperbacks are sold or use this coupon._ * * * * * ace books, (Dept. MM) Box 576, Times Square Station New York, N.Y. 10036 Please send me titles checked above. I enclose $............... Add 25 handling fee per copy. Name................................................... Address................................................. City...................... State............ Zip........ End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Star Born, by Andre Norton *** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK STAR BORN *** ***** This file should be named 18458-8.txt or 18458-8.zip ***** This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: http://www.gutenberg.org/1/8/4/5/18458/ Produced by Jason Isbell, Greg Weeks, Sankar Viswanathan, and the Online Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions will be renamed. Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation (and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without permission and without paying copyright royalties. Special rules, set forth in the General Terms of Use part of this license, apply to copying and distributing Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works to protect the PROJECT GUTENBERG-tm concept and trademark. Project Gutenberg is a registered trademark, and may not be used if you charge for the eBooks, unless you receive specific permission. If you do not charge anything for copies of this eBook, complying with the rules is very easy. You may use this eBook for nearly any purpose such as creation of derivative works, reports, performances and research. They may be modified and printed and given away--you may do practically ANYTHING with public domain eBooks. Redistribution is subject to the trademark license, especially commercial redistribution. *** START: FULL LICENSE *** THE FULL PROJECT GUTENBERG LICENSE PLEASE READ THIS BEFORE YOU DISTRIBUTE OR USE THIS WORK To protect the Project Gutenberg-tm mission of promoting the free distribution of electronic works, by using or distributing this work (or any other work associated in any way with the phrase "Project Gutenberg"), you agree to comply with all the terms of the Full Project Gutenberg-tm License (available with this file or online at http://gutenberg.org/license). Section 1. General Terms of Use and Redistributing Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works 1.A. By reading or using any part of this Project Gutenberg-tm electronic work, you indicate that you have read, understand, agree to and accept all the terms of this license and intellectual property (trademark/copyright) agreement. If you do not agree to abide by all the terms of this agreement, you must cease using and return or destroy all copies of Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works in your possession. If you paid a fee for obtaining a copy of or access to a Project Gutenberg-tm electronic work and you do not agree to be bound by the terms of this agreement, you may obtain a refund from the person or entity to whom you paid the fee as set forth in paragraph 1.E.8. 1.B. "Project Gutenberg" is a registered trademark. It may only be used on or associated in any way with an electronic work by people who agree to be bound by the terms of this agreement. There are a few things that you can do with most Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works even without complying with the full terms of this agreement. See paragraph 1.C below. There are a lot of things you can do with Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works if you follow the terms of this agreement and help preserve free future access to Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works. See paragraph 1.E below. 1.C. The Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation ("the Foundation" or PGLAF), owns a compilation copyright in the collection of Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works. Nearly all the individual works in the collection are in the public domain in the United States. If an individual work is in the public domain in the United States and you are located in the United States, we do not claim a right to prevent you from copying, distributing, performing, displaying or creating derivative works based on the work as long as all references to Project Gutenberg are removed. Of course, we hope that you will support the Project Gutenberg-tm mission of promoting free access to electronic works by freely sharing Project Gutenberg-tm works in compliance with the terms of this agreement for keeping the Project Gutenberg-tm name associated with the work. You can easily comply with the terms of this agreement by keeping this work in the same format with its attached full Project Gutenberg-tm License when you share it without charge with others. 1.D. The copyright laws of the place where you are located also govern what you can do with this work. Copyright laws in most countries are in a constant state of change. If you are outside the United States, check the laws of your country in addition to the terms of this agreement before downloading, copying, displaying, performing, distributing or creating derivative works based on this work or any other Project Gutenberg-tm work. The Foundation makes no representations concerning the copyright status of any work in any country outside the United States. 1.E. Unless you have removed all references to Project Gutenberg: 1.E.1. The following sentence, with active links to, or other immediate access to, the full Project Gutenberg-tm License must appear prominently whenever any copy of a Project Gutenberg-tm work (any work on which the phrase "Project Gutenberg" appears, or with which the phrase "Project Gutenberg" is associated) is accessed, displayed, performed, viewed, copied or distributed: This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org 1.E.2. If an individual Project Gutenberg-tm electronic work is derived from the public domain (does not contain a notice indicating that it is posted with permission of the copyright holder), the work can be copied and distributed to anyone in the United States without paying any fees or charges. If you are redistributing or providing access to a work with the phrase "Project Gutenberg" associated with or appearing on the work, you must comply either with the requirements of paragraphs 1.E.1 through 1.E.7 or obtain permission for the use of the work and the Project Gutenberg-tm trademark as set forth in paragraphs 1.E.8 or 1.E.9. 1.E.3. If an individual Project Gutenberg-tm electronic work is posted with the permission of the copyright holder, your use and distribution must comply with both paragraphs 1.E.1 through 1.E.7 and any additional terms imposed by the copyright holder. Additional terms will be linked to the Project Gutenberg-tm License for all works posted with the permission of the copyright holder found at the beginning of this work. 1.E.4. Do not unlink or detach or remove the full Project Gutenberg-tm License terms from this work, or any files containing a part of this work or any other work associated with Project Gutenberg-tm. 1.E.5. Do not copy, display, perform, distribute or redistribute this electronic work, or any part of this electronic work, without prominently displaying the sentence set forth in paragraph 1.E.1 with active links or immediate access to the full terms of the Project Gutenberg-tm License. 1.E.6. You may convert to and distribute this work in any binary, compressed, marked up, nonproprietary or proprietary form, including any word processing or hypertext form. However, if you provide access to or distribute copies of a Project Gutenberg-tm work in a format other than "Plain Vanilla ASCII" or other format used in the official version posted on the official Project Gutenberg-tm web site (www.gutenberg.org), you must, at no additional cost, fee or expense to the user, provide a copy, a means of exporting a copy, or a means of obtaining a copy upon request, of the work in its original "Plain Vanilla ASCII" or other form. Any alternate format must include the full Project Gutenberg-tm License as specified in paragraph 1.E.1. 1.E.7. Do not charge a fee for access to, viewing, displaying, performing, copying or distributing any Project Gutenberg-tm works unless you comply with paragraph 1.E.8 or 1.E.9. 1.E.8. You may charge a reasonable fee for copies of or providing access to or distributing Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works provided that - You pay a royalty fee of 20% of the gross profits you derive from the use of Project Gutenberg-tm works calculated using the method you already use to calculate your applicable taxes. The fee is owed to the owner of the Project Gutenberg-tm trademark, but he has agreed to donate royalties under this paragraph to the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation. Royalty payments must be paid within 60 days following each date on which you prepare (or are legally required to prepare) your periodic tax returns. Royalty payments should be clearly marked as such and sent to the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation at the address specified in Section 4, "Information about donations to the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation." - You provide a full refund of any money paid by a user who notifies you in writing (or by e-mail) within 30 days of receipt that s/he does not agree to the terms of the full Project Gutenberg-tm License. You must require such a user to return or destroy all copies of the works possessed in a physical medium and discontinue all use of and all access to other copies of Project Gutenberg-tm works. - You provide, in accordance with paragraph 1.F.3, a full refund of any money paid for a work or a replacement copy, if a defect in the electronic work is discovered and reported to you within 90 days of receipt of the work. - You comply with all other terms of this agreement for free distribution of Project Gutenberg-tm works. 1.E.9. If you wish to charge a fee or distribute a Project Gutenberg-tm electronic work or group of works on different terms than are set forth in this agreement, you must obtain permission in writing from both the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation and Michael Hart, the owner of the Project Gutenberg-tm trademark. Contact the Foundation as set forth in Section 3 below. 1.F. 1.F.1. Project Gutenberg volunteers and employees expend considerable effort to identify, do copyright research on, transcribe and proofread public domain works in creating the Project Gutenberg-tm collection. Despite these efforts, Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works, and the medium on which they may be stored, may contain "Defects," such as, but not limited to, incomplete, inaccurate or corrupt data, transcription errors, a copyright or other intellectual property infringement, a defective or damaged disk or other medium, a computer virus, or computer codes that damage or cannot be read by your equipment. 1.F.2. LIMITED WARRANTY, DISCLAIMER OF DAMAGES - Except for the "Right of Replacement or Refund" described in paragraph 1.F.3, the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation, the owner of the Project Gutenberg-tm trademark, and any other party distributing a Project Gutenberg-tm electronic work under this agreement, disclaim all liability to you for damages, costs and expenses, including legal fees. YOU AGREE THAT YOU HAVE NO REMEDIES FOR NEGLIGENCE, STRICT LIABILITY, BREACH OF WARRANTY OR BREACH OF CONTRACT EXCEPT THOSE PROVIDED IN PARAGRAPH F3. YOU AGREE THAT THE FOUNDATION, THE TRADEMARK OWNER, AND ANY DISTRIBUTOR UNDER THIS AGREEMENT WILL NOT BE LIABLE TO YOU FOR ACTUAL, DIRECT, INDIRECT, CONSEQUENTIAL, PUNITIVE OR INCIDENTAL DAMAGES EVEN IF YOU GIVE NOTICE OF THE POSSIBILITY OF SUCH DAMAGE. 1.F.3. LIMITED RIGHT OF REPLACEMENT OR REFUND - If you discover a defect in this electronic work within 90 days of receiving it, you can receive a refund of the money (if any) you paid for it by sending a written explanation to the person you received the work from. If you received the work on a physical medium, you must return the medium with your written explanation. The person or entity that provided you with the defective work may elect to provide a replacement copy in lieu of a refund. If you received the work electronically, the person or entity providing it to you may choose to give you a second opportunity to receive the work electronically in lieu of a refund. If the second copy is also defective, you may demand a refund in writing without further opportunities to fix the problem. 1.F.4. Except for the limited right of replacement or refund set forth in paragraph 1.F.3, this work is provided to you 'AS-IS' WITH NO OTHER WARRANTIES OF ANY KIND, EXPRESS OR IMPLIED, INCLUDING BUT NOT LIMITED TO WARRANTIES OF MERCHANTIBILITY OR FITNESS FOR ANY PURPOSE. 1.F.5. Some states do not allow disclaimers of certain implied warranties or the exclusion or limitation of certain types of damages. If any disclaimer or limitation set forth in this agreement violates the law of the state applicable to this agreement, the agreement shall be interpreted to make the maximum disclaimer or limitation permitted by the applicable state law. The invalidity or unenforceability of any provision of this agreement shall not void the remaining provisions. 1.F.6. INDEMNITY - You agree to indemnify and hold the Foundation, the trademark owner, any agent or employee of the Foundation, anyone providing copies of Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works in accordance with this agreement, and any volunteers associated with the production, promotion and distribution of Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works, harmless from all liability, costs and expenses, including legal fees, that arise directly or indirectly from any of the following which you do or cause to occur: (a) distribution of this or any Project Gutenberg-tm work, (b) alteration, modification, or additions or deletions to any Project Gutenberg-tm work, and (c) any Defect you cause. Section 2. Information about the Mission of Project Gutenberg-tm Project Gutenberg-tm is synonymous with the free distribution of electronic works in formats readable by the widest variety of computers including obsolete, old, middle-aged and new computers. It exists because of the efforts of hundreds of volunteers and donations from people in all walks of life. Volunteers and financial support to provide volunteers with the assistance they need, is critical to reaching Project Gutenberg-tm's goals and ensuring that the Project Gutenberg-tm collection will remain freely available for generations to come. In 2001, the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation was created to provide a secure and permanent future for Project Gutenberg-tm and future generations. To learn more about the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation and how your efforts and donations can help, see Sections 3 and 4 and the Foundation web page at http://www.pglaf.org. Section 3. Information about the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation The Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation is a non profit 501(c)(3) educational corporation organized under the laws of the state of Mississippi and granted tax exempt status by the Internal Revenue Service. The Foundation's EIN or federal tax identification number is 64-6221541. Its 501(c)(3) letter is posted at http://pglaf.org/fundraising. Contributions to the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation are tax deductible to the full extent permitted by U.S. federal laws and your state's laws. The Foundation's principal office is located at 4557 Melan Dr. S. Fairbanks, AK, 99712., but its volunteers and employees are scattered throughout numerous locations. Its business office is located at 809 North 1500 West, Salt Lake City, UT 84116, (801) 596-1887, email [email protected]. Email contact links and up to date contact information can be found at the Foundation's web site and official page at http://pglaf.org For additional contact information: Dr. Gregory B. Newby

able

How many times the word 'able' appears in the text?

you to understand. No, your knowledge is not corrupt, it would not carry with it the same seeds of disaster as that of Those Others. But it would be too easy for us to accept, to walk a softer road, to forget what we have so far won. Just give us time--" Raf cupped his palms over his watering eyes. He wanted badly to see clearly the other's face, to be able to read his expression. Yet it seemed that somehow he _was_ able to see that sober face, as sincere as the words in his mind. "You will come again," Dalgard said with certainty. "And we shall be waiting because you, Raf Kurbi, made it possible." There was something so solemn about that that Raf looked up in surprise. "When you destroyed the core of Those Other's holding, you gave us our chance. For had you not done that we, the mermen, the other harmless, happy creatures of this world, would have been wiped out. There would be no new beginning here, only a dark and horrible end." Raf blinked; to his surprise that other figure standing in the direct sunlight did not waver, and beyond the proudly held head was a stretch of turquoise sky. He could see the color! "Yes, you shall see with your eyes--and with your mind," now Dalgard spoke aloud. "And if the Spirit which rules all space is kind, you shall return to your own people. For you have served His cause well." Then, as if he were embarrassed by his own solemnity, Dalgard ended with a most prosaic inquiry: "Would you like shellfish for eating?" Moments later, wading out into the water-swirled sand, his boots kicked off, his toes feeling for the elusive shelled creatures no one could see, Raf felt happier, freer than he could ever remember having been before. It was going to be all right. He could _see_! He would find the ship! He laughed aloud at nothing and heard an answering chuckle and then a whoop of triumph from the scout stooping to claw one of their prey out of hiding. It was after they had eaten that Dalgard asked another question, one which did not seem important to Raf. "You have a close friend among the crew of your ship?" Raf hesitated. Now that he was obliged to consider the point, did he have any friends--let alone a close one--among the crew of the _RS 10_? Certainly he did not claim Wonstead who had shared his quarters--he honestly did not care if he never saw him again. The officers, the experts such as Lablet--quickly face and character of each swept through his mind and was as swiftly discarded. There was Soriki--He could not claim the com-tech as any special friend, but at least during their period together among the aliens he had come to know him better. Now, as if Dalgard had read his mind--and he probably had, thought Raf with a flash of the old resentment--he had another question. "And what was he--is he like?" Though the pilot could see little reason for this he answered as best he could, trying to build first a physical picture of the com-tech and then doing a little guessing as to what lay under the other's space-burned skin. Dalgard lay on his back, gazing up into the blue-green sky. Yet Raf knew that he was intent on every word. A merman padded up, settled down cross-legged beside the scout, as if he too were enthralled by the pilot's halting description of a man he might never see again. Then a second of the sea people came and a third, until Raf felt that some sort of a noiseless council was in progress. His words trailed away, and then Dalgard offered an explanation. "It will take us many, many days to reach the place where your ship is. And before we are able to complete that journey your friends may be gone. So we shall try something else--with your aid." Raf fingered the little bundle of his possessions. Even his helmet with its com phone was missing. "No," again Dalgard read his mind. "Your machines are of no use to you now. We shall try _our_ way." "How?" Wild thoughts of a big signal fire--But how could that be sighted across a mountain range. Of some sort of an improvised com unit-- "I said _our_ way." There was a smile on Dalgard's face, visible to Raf's slowly clearing vision. "We shall provide another kind of machine, and these"--he waved at the mermen--"will give us the power, or so we hope. Lie here," he gestured to the sand beside him, "and think only of your friend in the ship, in his natural surroundings. Try to hold that picture constant in your mind, letting no other thought trouble it." "Do you mean--send a message to him mentally!" Raf's reply was half protest. "Did I not so reach you when we were in the city--even before I knew of you as an individual?" the scout reminded him. "And such messages are doubly possible when they are sent from friend to friend." "But we were close then." "That is why--" again Dalgard indicated the mermen. "For them this is the natural means of communication. They will pick up your reaching thought, amplify it with their power, beam it north. Since your friend deals with matters of communication, let us hope that he will be sensitive to this method." Raf was only half convinced that it might work But he remembered how Dalgard had established contact with him, before, as the scout had pointed out, they had met. It was that voiceless cry for aid which had pulled him into this adventure in the first place. It was only fitting that something of the same process give _him_ help in return. Obediently he stretched out on the sand and closed his dim eyes, trying to picture Soriki in the small cabin which held the com, slouched in his bucket seat, his deceptive posture that of a lax idler, as he had seen him so many times. Soriki--his broad face with its flat cheekbones, its wide cheerful mouth, its heavy-lidded eyes. And having fixed Soriki's face, he tried to believe that he was now confronting the com-tech, speaking directly to him. "Come--come and get me--south--seashore--Soriki come and get me!" The words formed a kind of chant, a chant aimed at that familiar face in its familiar surroundings. "South--come and get me--" Raf struggled to think only of that, to allow nothing to break through that chant or disturb his picture of the scene he had called from memory. How long that attempt at communication lasted the pilot could not tell, for somehow he slipped from the deep concentration into sleep, dreamless and untroubled, from which he awoke with the befogged feeling that something important had happened. But had he gotten through? The ring of mermen was gone, and it was dawn, gray, chill with the forewarnings of rain in the air. He was reassured because he was certain that in spite of the gloom his sight was a fraction clearer than it had been the day before. But had they gotten through? As he arose, brushing the sand from him, he saw the scout splashing out of the sea, a fish impaled on his spear. "Did we get through?" Raf blurted out. "Since your friend cannot reply with the mind touch, we do not know. But later we shall try again." To Raf's peering gaze Dalgard's face had a drawn, gaunt look as if he had been at hard labor during the hours just past. He walked up the beach slowly, without the springing step Raf had come to associate with him. As he settled down to gut the fish with one of the bone knives, the scout repeated, "We can try again--!" Half an hour later, as the rain swept in from the sea, Raf knew that they would not have to try. His head went up, his face eager. He had known that sound too long and too well ever to mistake it--the drone of a flitter motor cutting through the swish of the falling water. Some trick of the cliffs behind them must be magnifying and projecting the sound, for he could not sight the machine. But it was coming. He whirled to Dalgard, only to see that the other was on his feet and had taken up his spear. "It is the flitter! Soriki heard--they're coming!" Raf hastened to assure him. For the last time he saw Dalgard's slow, warm smile, clearer than he had ever seen it before. Then the scout turned and trotted away, toward a fringing rock wall. Before he dropped out of sight behind that barrier he raised the spear in salute. "Swift and fortunate voyaging!" He gave the farewell of Homeport. Then Raf understood. The colonist meant just what he had said: he wanted no contact with the space ship. To Raf he had owed a debt and now that was paid. But the time was not yet when the men of Astra and the men of Terra should meet. A hundred years from now perhaps--or a thousand--but not yet. And remembering what had summoned the flitter winging toward him, Raf drew a deep breath. What would the men of Astra accomplish in a hundred years? What could those of Terra do to match them in knowledge? It was a challenge, and he alone knew just how much of a challenge. Homeport must remain his own secret. He had been guided to this place, saved by the mermen alone. Dalgard and his people must not exist as far as the crew of the _RS 10_ were concerned. For the last time he experienced the intimacy of the mind touch. "That is it--brother!" Then the sensation was gone as the black blot of the flitter buzzed out of the clouds. From behind the rocks Dalgard watched the pilot enter the strange machine. For a single moment he had an impulse to shout, to run forward, to surrender to his desire to see the others, the ship which had brought them through space and would, they confidently believed, take them back to the Terra he knew only as a legend of the past. But he mastered that desire. He had been right. The road had already forked and there was no going back. He must carry this secret all the rest of his life--he must be strong-willed enough so that Homeport would never know. Time--give them time to be what they could be. Then in a hundred years--or a thousand--But not yet! * * * * * "Nobody today is telling better stories of straight-forward interstellar adventure." --_New York Herald-Tribune_ When Raf Kurbi's Terran spaceship burst into unexplored skies of the far planet Astra and was immediately made welcome by the natives of a once-mighty metropolis, Kurbi was unaware of three vital things: One was that Astra already harbored an Earth colony--descended from refugees from the world of the previous century. Two was that these men and women were facing the greatest danger of their existence from a new outburst of the inhuman fiends who had once tyrannized Astra. Three was that the natives who were buying Kurbi's science know-how were those very fiends--and their intentions were implacably deadly for all humans, whether Earth born or STAR BORN. _It's an Andre Norton space adventure--and therefore the tops in its field!_ * * * * * Quotes from the reviews: "All science-fiction fans will thrill to these new adventures created by Andre Norton.... All who enjoy a good adventure about the unknown parts of our galaxy will find this an enchanting story." --_Jackson _(_Tenn._) _Sun_ "Superb science-fiction." --_Montgomery Advertiser_ "Andre Norton adds another star to her literary laurels." --_Cleveland Press_ "A good, clearly thought-out story." --_New York Times_ "Exciting and adventure-laden." --_Library Journal_ "Suspense and excitement.... A storyteller of the first class, this is one of her best." --_Fantasy & Science Fiction_ * * * * * NOW AVAILABLE AGAIN! PERRY RHODAN 95 each #1 Enterprise Stardust Scheer & Ernsting #2 The Radiant Dome Scheer & Ernsting #3 Galactic Alarm Mahr & Shols #4 Invasion from Space Ernsting & Mahr #5 The Vega Sector Scheer & Mahr #6 Secret of the Time Vault Darlton #7 Fortress of the Six Moons Scheer #8 The Galactic Riddle Darlton #9 Quest through Space and Time Darlton #10 The Ghosts of Gol Mahr #11 Planet of the Dying Sun Mahr #12 Rebels of Tuglan Darlton #13 The Immortal Unknown Darlton #14 Venus in Danger Mahr #15 Escape To Venus Mahr #16 Secret Barrier X Shols #17 The Venus Trap Mahr #18 Menace of the Mutant Master Darlton #19 Mutants vs. Mutants Darlton #20 The Thrall of Hypno Darlton _Available wherever paperbacks an sold or use this coupon._ * * * * * ace books, (Dept. MM) Box 576, Times Square Station New York, N.Y. 10036 Please send me titles checked above. I enclose $.................. Add 25 handling fee per copy. Name.................................................... Address................................................. City...................... State............ Zip........ * * * * * ANDRE NORTON Android at Arms $1.25 Beast Master $1.25 Breed to Come $1.25 Catseye $1.25 The Crossroads Of Time $1.25 Dark Piper $1.25 Daybreak 2250 A.D. $1.25 Defiant Agents $1.25 Dragon Magic $1.25 Dread Companion $1.25 Exiles of the Stars $1.25 Eye of the Monster $1.25 Forerunner Foray $1.50 Galactic Derelict $1.25 High Sorcery $1.25 Huon of the Horn $1.25 Ice Crown $1.25 Judgment on Janus $1.25 Key Out of Time $1.25 The Last Planet $1.25 Lord of Thunder $1.25 Moon of Three Rings $1.25 Night of Masks $1.25 Operation Time Search $1.25 Ordeal In Otherwhere $1.25 _Available wherever paperbacks are sold or use this coupon._ * * * * * ace books, (Dept. MM) Box 576, Times Square Station New York. N.Y. 10036 Please send me titles checked above. I enclose $................ Add 25 handling fee per copy. Name................................................ Address.......................................... City............... State........... Zip......... * * * * * ANDRE NORTON $1.25 each Plague Ship Postmarked the Stars Quest Crosstime Sargasso of Space Sea Seige Secret of the Lost Race. Shadow Hawk The Sioux Spaceman Sorceress of Witch World Star Born Star Gate Star Guard Star Hunter & Voodoo Planet The Stars are Ours Storm Over Warlock Three Against the WitchWorld The Time Traders Uncharted Stars Victory on Janus Warlock of the Witch World Web of the Witch World Witch World The X Factor Year Of The Unicorn The Zero Stone _Available wherever paperbacks are sold or use this coupon._ * * * * * ace books, (Dept. MM) Box 576, Times Square Station New York, N.Y. 10036 Please send me titles checked above. I enclose $............... Add 25 handling fee per copy. Name................................................... Address................................................. City...................... State............ Zip........ End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Star Born, by Andre Norton *** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK STAR BORN *** ***** This file should be named 18458-8.txt or 18458-8.zip ***** This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: http://www.gutenberg.org/1/8/4/5/18458/ Produced by Jason Isbell, Greg Weeks, Sankar Viswanathan, and the Online Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions will be renamed. Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation (and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without permission and without paying copyright royalties. Special rules, set forth in the General Terms of Use part of this license, apply to copying and distributing Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works to protect the PROJECT GUTENBERG-tm concept and trademark. Project Gutenberg is a registered trademark, and may not be used if you charge for the eBooks, unless you receive specific permission. If you do not charge anything for copies of this eBook, complying with the rules is very easy. You may use this eBook for nearly any purpose such as creation of derivative works, reports, performances and research. They may be modified and printed and given away--you may do practically ANYTHING with public domain eBooks. Redistribution is subject to the trademark license, especially commercial redistribution. *** START: FULL LICENSE *** THE FULL PROJECT GUTENBERG LICENSE PLEASE READ THIS BEFORE YOU DISTRIBUTE OR USE THIS WORK To protect the Project Gutenberg-tm mission of promoting the free distribution of electronic works, by using or distributing this work (or any other work associated in any way with the phrase "Project Gutenberg"), you agree to comply with all the terms of the Full Project Gutenberg-tm License (available with this file or online at http://gutenberg.org/license). Section 1. General Terms of Use and Redistributing Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works 1.A. By reading or using any part of this Project Gutenberg-tm electronic work, you indicate that you have read, understand, agree to and accept all the terms of this license and intellectual property (trademark/copyright) agreement. If you do not agree to abide by all the terms of this agreement, you must cease using and return or destroy all copies of Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works in your possession. If you paid a fee for obtaining a copy of or access to a Project Gutenberg-tm electronic work and you do not agree to be bound by the terms of this agreement, you may obtain a refund from the person or entity to whom you paid the fee as set forth in paragraph 1.E.8. 1.B. "Project Gutenberg" is a registered trademark. It may only be used on or associated in any way with an electronic work by people who agree to be bound by the terms of this agreement. There are a few things that you can do with most Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works even without complying with the full terms of this agreement. See paragraph 1.C below. There are a lot of things you can do with Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works if you follow the terms of this agreement and help preserve free future access to Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works. See paragraph 1.E below. 1.C. The Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation ("the Foundation" or PGLAF), owns a compilation copyright in the collection of Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works. Nearly all the individual works in the collection are in the public domain in the United States. If an individual work is in the public domain in the United States and you are located in the United States, we do not claim a right to prevent you from copying, distributing, performing, displaying or creating derivative works based on the work as long as all references to Project Gutenberg are removed. Of course, we hope that you will support the Project Gutenberg-tm mission of promoting free access to electronic works by freely sharing Project Gutenberg-tm works in compliance with the terms of this agreement for keeping the Project Gutenberg-tm name associated with the work. You can easily comply with the terms of this agreement by keeping this work in the same format with its attached full Project Gutenberg-tm License when you share it without charge with others. 1.D. The copyright laws of the place where you are located also govern what you can do with this work. Copyright laws in most countries are in a constant state of change. If you are outside the United States, check the laws of your country in addition to the terms of this agreement before downloading, copying, displaying, performing, distributing or creating derivative works based on this work or any other Project Gutenberg-tm work. The Foundation makes no representations concerning the copyright status of any work in any country outside the United States. 1.E. Unless you have removed all references to Project Gutenberg: 1.E.1. The following sentence, with active links to, or other immediate access to, the full Project Gutenberg-tm License must appear prominently whenever any copy of a Project Gutenberg-tm work (any work on which the phrase "Project Gutenberg" appears, or with which the phrase "Project Gutenberg" is associated) is accessed, displayed, performed, viewed, copied or distributed: This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org 1.E.2. If an individual Project Gutenberg-tm electronic work is derived from the public domain (does not contain a notice indicating that it is posted with permission of the copyright holder), the work can be copied and distributed to anyone in the United States without paying any fees or charges. If you are redistributing or providing access to a work with the phrase "Project Gutenberg" associated with or appearing on the work, you must comply either with the requirements of paragraphs 1.E.1 through 1.E.7 or obtain permission for the use of the work and the Project Gutenberg-tm trademark as set forth in paragraphs 1.E.8 or 1.E.9. 1.E.3. If an individual Project Gutenberg-tm electronic work is posted with the permission of the copyright holder, your use and distribution must comply with both paragraphs 1.E.1 through 1.E.7 and any additional terms imposed by the copyright holder. Additional terms will be linked to the Project Gutenberg-tm License for all works posted with the permission of the copyright holder found at the beginning of this work. 1.E.4. Do not unlink or detach or remove the full Project Gutenberg-tm License terms from this work, or any files containing a part of this work or any other work associated with Project Gutenberg-tm. 1.E.5. Do not copy, display, perform, distribute or redistribute this electronic work, or any part of this electronic work, without prominently displaying the sentence set forth in paragraph 1.E.1 with active links or immediate access to the full terms of the Project Gutenberg-tm License. 1.E.6. You may convert to and distribute this work in any binary, compressed, marked up, nonproprietary or proprietary form, including any word processing or hypertext form. However, if you provide access to or distribute copies of a Project Gutenberg-tm work in a format other than "Plain Vanilla ASCII" or other format used in the official version posted on the official Project Gutenberg-tm web site (www.gutenberg.org), you must, at no additional cost, fee or expense to the user, provide a copy, a means of exporting a copy, or a means of obtaining a copy upon request, of the work in its original "Plain Vanilla ASCII" or other form. Any alternate format must include the full Project Gutenberg-tm License as specified in paragraph 1.E.1. 1.E.7. Do not charge a fee for access to, viewing, displaying, performing, copying or distributing any Project Gutenberg-tm works unless you comply with paragraph 1.E.8 or 1.E.9. 1.E.8. You may charge a reasonable fee for copies of or providing access to or distributing Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works provided that - You pay a royalty fee of 20% of the gross profits you derive from the use of Project Gutenberg-tm works calculated using the method you already use to calculate your applicable taxes. The fee is owed to the owner of the Project Gutenberg-tm trademark, but he has agreed to donate royalties under this paragraph to the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation. Royalty payments must be paid within 60 days following each date on which you prepare (or are legally required to prepare) your periodic tax returns. Royalty payments should be clearly marked as such and sent to the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation at the address specified in Section 4, "Information about donations to the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation." - You provide a full refund of any money paid by a user who notifies you in writing (or by e-mail) within 30 days of receipt that s/he does not agree to the terms of the full Project Gutenberg-tm License. You must require such a user to return or destroy all copies of the works possessed in a physical medium and discontinue all use of and all access to other copies of Project Gutenberg-tm works. - You provide, in accordance with paragraph 1.F.3, a full refund of any money paid for a work or a replacement copy, if a defect in the electronic work is discovered and reported to you within 90 days of receipt of the work. - You comply with all other terms of this agreement for free distribution of Project Gutenberg-tm works. 1.E.9. If you wish to charge a fee or distribute a Project Gutenberg-tm electronic work or group of works on different terms than are set forth in this agreement, you must obtain permission in writing from both the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation and Michael Hart, the owner of the Project Gutenberg-tm trademark. Contact the Foundation as set forth in Section 3 below. 1.F. 1.F.1. Project Gutenberg volunteers and employees expend considerable effort to identify, do copyright research on, transcribe and proofread public domain works in creating the Project Gutenberg-tm collection. Despite these efforts, Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works, and the medium on which they may be stored, may contain "Defects," such as, but not limited to, incomplete, inaccurate or corrupt data, transcription errors, a copyright or other intellectual property infringement, a defective or damaged disk or other medium, a computer virus, or computer codes that damage or cannot be read by your equipment. 1.F.2. LIMITED WARRANTY, DISCLAIMER OF DAMAGES - Except for the "Right of Replacement or Refund" described in paragraph 1.F.3, the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation, the owner of the Project Gutenberg-tm trademark, and any other party distributing a Project Gutenberg-tm electronic work under this agreement, disclaim all liability to you for damages, costs and expenses, including legal fees. YOU AGREE THAT YOU HAVE NO REMEDIES FOR NEGLIGENCE, STRICT LIABILITY, BREACH OF WARRANTY OR BREACH OF CONTRACT EXCEPT THOSE PROVIDED IN PARAGRAPH F3. YOU AGREE THAT THE FOUNDATION, THE TRADEMARK OWNER, AND ANY DISTRIBUTOR UNDER THIS AGREEMENT WILL NOT BE LIABLE TO YOU FOR ACTUAL, DIRECT, INDIRECT, CONSEQUENTIAL, PUNITIVE OR INCIDENTAL DAMAGES EVEN IF YOU GIVE NOTICE OF THE POSSIBILITY OF SUCH DAMAGE. 1.F.3. LIMITED RIGHT OF REPLACEMENT OR REFUND - If you discover a defect in this electronic work within 90 days of receiving it, you can receive a refund of the money (if any) you paid for it by sending a written explanation to the person you received the work from. If you received the work on a physical medium, you must return the medium with your written explanation. The person or entity that provided you with the defective work may elect to provide a replacement copy in lieu of a refund. If you received the work electronically, the person or entity providing it to you may choose to give you a second opportunity to receive the work electronically in lieu of a refund. If the second copy is also defective, you may demand a refund in writing without further opportunities to fix the problem. 1.F.4. Except for the limited right of replacement or refund set forth in paragraph 1.F.3, this work is provided to you 'AS-IS' WITH NO OTHER WARRANTIES OF ANY KIND, EXPRESS OR IMPLIED, INCLUDING BUT NOT LIMITED TO WARRANTIES OF MERCHANTIBILITY OR FITNESS FOR ANY PURPOSE. 1.F.5. Some states do not allow disclaimers of certain implied warranties or the exclusion or limitation of certain types of damages. If any disclaimer or limitation set forth in this agreement violates the law of the state applicable to this agreement, the agreement shall be interpreted to make the maximum disclaimer or limitation permitted by the applicable state law. The invalidity or unenforceability of any provision of this agreement shall not void the remaining provisions. 1.F.6. INDEMNITY - You agree to indemnify and hold the Foundation, the trademark owner, any agent or employee of the Foundation, anyone providing copies of Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works in accordance with this agreement, and any volunteers associated with the production, promotion and distribution of Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works, harmless from all liability, costs and expenses, including legal fees, that arise directly or indirectly from any of the following which you do or cause to occur: (a) distribution of this or any Project Gutenberg-tm work, (b) alteration, modification, or additions or deletions to any Project Gutenberg-tm work, and (c) any Defect you cause. Section 2. Information about the Mission of Project Gutenberg-tm Project Gutenberg-tm is synonymous with the free distribution of electronic works in formats readable by the widest variety of computers including obsolete, old, middle-aged and new computers. It exists because of the efforts of hundreds of volunteers and donations from people in all walks of life. Volunteers and financial support to provide volunteers with the assistance they need, is critical to reaching Project Gutenberg-tm's goals and ensuring that the Project Gutenberg-tm collection will remain freely available for generations to come. In 2001, the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation was created to provide a secure and permanent future for Project Gutenberg-tm and future generations. To learn more about the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation and how your efforts and donations can help, see Sections 3 and 4 and the Foundation web page at http://www.pglaf.org. Section 3. Information about the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation The Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation is a non profit 501(c)(3) educational corporation organized under the laws of the state of Mississippi and granted tax exempt status by the Internal Revenue Service. The Foundation's EIN or federal tax identification number is 64-6221541. Its 501(c)(3) letter is posted at http://pglaf.org/fundraising. Contributions to the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation are tax deductible to the full extent permitted by U.S. federal laws and your state's laws. The Foundation's principal office is located at 4557 Melan Dr. S. Fairbanks, AK, 99712., but its volunteers and employees are scattered throughout numerous locations. Its business office is located at 809 North 1500 West, Salt Lake City, UT 84116, (801) 596-1887, email [email protected]. Email contact links and up to date contact information can be found at the Foundation's web site and official page at http://pglaf.org For additional contact information: Dr. Gregory B. Newby

heavy

How many times the word 'heavy' appears in the text?

you to understand. No, your knowledge is not corrupt, it would not carry with it the same seeds of disaster as that of Those Others. But it would be too easy for us to accept, to walk a softer road, to forget what we have so far won. Just give us time--" Raf cupped his palms over his watering eyes. He wanted badly to see clearly the other's face, to be able to read his expression. Yet it seemed that somehow he _was_ able to see that sober face, as sincere as the words in his mind. "You will come again," Dalgard said with certainty. "And we shall be waiting because you, Raf Kurbi, made it possible." There was something so solemn about that that Raf looked up in surprise. "When you destroyed the core of Those Other's holding, you gave us our chance. For had you not done that we, the mermen, the other harmless, happy creatures of this world, would have been wiped out. There would be no new beginning here, only a dark and horrible end." Raf blinked; to his surprise that other figure standing in the direct sunlight did not waver, and beyond the proudly held head was a stretch of turquoise sky. He could see the color! "Yes, you shall see with your eyes--and with your mind," now Dalgard spoke aloud. "And if the Spirit which rules all space is kind, you shall return to your own people. For you have served His cause well." Then, as if he were embarrassed by his own solemnity, Dalgard ended with a most prosaic inquiry: "Would you like shellfish for eating?" Moments later, wading out into the water-swirled sand, his boots kicked off, his toes feeling for the elusive shelled creatures no one could see, Raf felt happier, freer than he could ever remember having been before. It was going to be all right. He could _see_! He would find the ship! He laughed aloud at nothing and heard an answering chuckle and then a whoop of triumph from the scout stooping to claw one of their prey out of hiding. It was after they had eaten that Dalgard asked another question, one which did not seem important to Raf. "You have a close friend among the crew of your ship?" Raf hesitated. Now that he was obliged to consider the point, did he have any friends--let alone a close one--among the crew of the _RS 10_? Certainly he did not claim Wonstead who had shared his quarters--he honestly did not care if he never saw him again. The officers, the experts such as Lablet--quickly face and character of each swept through his mind and was as swiftly discarded. There was Soriki--He could not claim the com-tech as any special friend, but at least during their period together among the aliens he had come to know him better. Now, as if Dalgard had read his mind--and he probably had, thought Raf with a flash of the old resentment--he had another question. "And what was he--is he like?" Though the pilot could see little reason for this he answered as best he could, trying to build first a physical picture of the com-tech and then doing a little guessing as to what lay under the other's space-burned skin. Dalgard lay on his back, gazing up into the blue-green sky. Yet Raf knew that he was intent on every word. A merman padded up, settled down cross-legged beside the scout, as if he too were enthralled by the pilot's halting description of a man he might never see again. Then a second of the sea people came and a third, until Raf felt that some sort of a noiseless council was in progress. His words trailed away, and then Dalgard offered an explanation. "It will take us many, many days to reach the place where your ship is. And before we are able to complete that journey your friends may be gone. So we shall try something else--with your aid." Raf fingered the little bundle of his possessions. Even his helmet with its com phone was missing. "No," again Dalgard read his mind. "Your machines are of no use to you now. We shall try _our_ way." "How?" Wild thoughts of a big signal fire--But how could that be sighted across a mountain range. Of some sort of an improvised com unit-- "I said _our_ way." There was a smile on Dalgard's face, visible to Raf's slowly clearing vision. "We shall provide another kind of machine, and these"--he waved at the mermen--"will give us the power, or so we hope. Lie here," he gestured to the sand beside him, "and think only of your friend in the ship, in his natural surroundings. Try to hold that picture constant in your mind, letting no other thought trouble it." "Do you mean--send a message to him mentally!" Raf's reply was half protest. "Did I not so reach you when we were in the city--even before I knew of you as an individual?" the scout reminded him. "And such messages are doubly possible when they are sent from friend to friend." "But we were close then." "That is why--" again Dalgard indicated the mermen. "For them this is the natural means of communication. They will pick up your reaching thought, amplify it with their power, beam it north. Since your friend deals with matters of communication, let us hope that he will be sensitive to this method." Raf was only half convinced that it might work But he remembered how Dalgard had established contact with him, before, as the scout had pointed out, they had met. It was that voiceless cry for aid which had pulled him into this adventure in the first place. It was only fitting that something of the same process give _him_ help in return. Obediently he stretched out on the sand and closed his dim eyes, trying to picture Soriki in the small cabin which held the com, slouched in his bucket seat, his deceptive posture that of a lax idler, as he had seen him so many times. Soriki--his broad face with its flat cheekbones, its wide cheerful mouth, its heavy-lidded eyes. And having fixed Soriki's face, he tried to believe that he was now confronting the com-tech, speaking directly to him. "Come--come and get me--south--seashore--Soriki come and get me!" The words formed a kind of chant, a chant aimed at that familiar face in its familiar surroundings. "South--come and get me--" Raf struggled to think only of that, to allow nothing to break through that chant or disturb his picture of the scene he had called from memory. How long that attempt at communication lasted the pilot could not tell, for somehow he slipped from the deep concentration into sleep, dreamless and untroubled, from which he awoke with the befogged feeling that something important had happened. But had he gotten through? The ring of mermen was gone, and it was dawn, gray, chill with the forewarnings of rain in the air. He was reassured because he was certain that in spite of the gloom his sight was a fraction clearer than it had been the day before. But had they gotten through? As he arose, brushing the sand from him, he saw the scout splashing out of the sea, a fish impaled on his spear. "Did we get through?" Raf blurted out. "Since your friend cannot reply with the mind touch, we do not know. But later we shall try again." To Raf's peering gaze Dalgard's face had a drawn, gaunt look as if he had been at hard labor during the hours just past. He walked up the beach slowly, without the springing step Raf had come to associate with him. As he settled down to gut the fish with one of the bone knives, the scout repeated, "We can try again--!" Half an hour later, as the rain swept in from the sea, Raf knew that they would not have to try. His head went up, his face eager. He had known that sound too long and too well ever to mistake it--the drone of a flitter motor cutting through the swish of the falling water. Some trick of the cliffs behind them must be magnifying and projecting the sound, for he could not sight the machine. But it was coming. He whirled to Dalgard, only to see that the other was on his feet and had taken up his spear. "It is the flitter! Soriki heard--they're coming!" Raf hastened to assure him. For the last time he saw Dalgard's slow, warm smile, clearer than he had ever seen it before. Then the scout turned and trotted away, toward a fringing rock wall. Before he dropped out of sight behind that barrier he raised the spear in salute. "Swift and fortunate voyaging!" He gave the farewell of Homeport. Then Raf understood. The colonist meant just what he had said: he wanted no contact with the space ship. To Raf he had owed a debt and now that was paid. But the time was not yet when the men of Astra and the men of Terra should meet. A hundred years from now perhaps--or a thousand--but not yet. And remembering what had summoned the flitter winging toward him, Raf drew a deep breath. What would the men of Astra accomplish in a hundred years? What could those of Terra do to match them in knowledge? It was a challenge, and he alone knew just how much of a challenge. Homeport must remain his own secret. He had been guided to this place, saved by the mermen alone. Dalgard and his people must not exist as far as the crew of the _RS 10_ were concerned. For the last time he experienced the intimacy of the mind touch. "That is it--brother!" Then the sensation was gone as the black blot of the flitter buzzed out of the clouds. From behind the rocks Dalgard watched the pilot enter the strange machine. For a single moment he had an impulse to shout, to run forward, to surrender to his desire to see the others, the ship which had brought them through space and would, they confidently believed, take them back to the Terra he knew only as a legend of the past. But he mastered that desire. He had been right. The road had already forked and there was no going back. He must carry this secret all the rest of his life--he must be strong-willed enough so that Homeport would never know. Time--give them time to be what they could be. Then in a hundred years--or a thousand--But not yet! * * * * * "Nobody today is telling better stories of straight-forward interstellar adventure." --_New York Herald-Tribune_ When Raf Kurbi's Terran spaceship burst into unexplored skies of the far planet Astra and was immediately made welcome by the natives of a once-mighty metropolis, Kurbi was unaware of three vital things: One was that Astra already harbored an Earth colony--descended from refugees from the world of the previous century. Two was that these men and women were facing the greatest danger of their existence from a new outburst of the inhuman fiends who had once tyrannized Astra. Three was that the natives who were buying Kurbi's science know-how were those very fiends--and their intentions were implacably deadly for all humans, whether Earth born or STAR BORN. _It's an Andre Norton space adventure--and therefore the tops in its field!_ * * * * * Quotes from the reviews: "All science-fiction fans will thrill to these new adventures created by Andre Norton.... All who enjoy a good adventure about the unknown parts of our galaxy will find this an enchanting story." --_Jackson _(_Tenn._) _Sun_ "Superb science-fiction." --_Montgomery Advertiser_ "Andre Norton adds another star to her literary laurels." --_Cleveland Press_ "A good, clearly thought-out story." --_New York Times_ "Exciting and adventure-laden." --_Library Journal_ "Suspense and excitement.... A storyteller of the first class, this is one of her best." --_Fantasy & Science Fiction_ * * * * * NOW AVAILABLE AGAIN! PERRY RHODAN 95 each #1 Enterprise Stardust Scheer & Ernsting #2 The Radiant Dome Scheer & Ernsting #3 Galactic Alarm Mahr & Shols #4 Invasion from Space Ernsting & Mahr #5 The Vega Sector Scheer & Mahr #6 Secret of the Time Vault Darlton #7 Fortress of the Six Moons Scheer #8 The Galactic Riddle Darlton #9 Quest through Space and Time Darlton #10 The Ghosts of Gol Mahr #11 Planet of the Dying Sun Mahr #12 Rebels of Tuglan Darlton #13 The Immortal Unknown Darlton #14 Venus in Danger Mahr #15 Escape To Venus Mahr #16 Secret Barrier X Shols #17 The Venus Trap Mahr #18 Menace of the Mutant Master Darlton #19 Mutants vs. Mutants Darlton #20 The Thrall of Hypno Darlton _Available wherever paperbacks an sold or use this coupon._ * * * * * ace books, (Dept. MM) Box 576, Times Square Station New York, N.Y. 10036 Please send me titles checked above. I enclose $.................. Add 25 handling fee per copy. Name.................................................... Address................................................. City...................... State............ Zip........ * * * * * ANDRE NORTON Android at Arms $1.25 Beast Master $1.25 Breed to Come $1.25 Catseye $1.25 The Crossroads Of Time $1.25 Dark Piper $1.25 Daybreak 2250 A.D. $1.25 Defiant Agents $1.25 Dragon Magic $1.25 Dread Companion $1.25 Exiles of the Stars $1.25 Eye of the Monster $1.25 Forerunner Foray $1.50 Galactic Derelict $1.25 High Sorcery $1.25 Huon of the Horn $1.25 Ice Crown $1.25 Judgment on Janus $1.25 Key Out of Time $1.25 The Last Planet $1.25 Lord of Thunder $1.25 Moon of Three Rings $1.25 Night of Masks $1.25 Operation Time Search $1.25 Ordeal In Otherwhere $1.25 _Available wherever paperbacks are sold or use this coupon._ * * * * * ace books, (Dept. MM) Box 576, Times Square Station New York. N.Y. 10036 Please send me titles checked above. I enclose $................ Add 25 handling fee per copy. Name................................................ Address.......................................... City............... State........... Zip......... * * * * * ANDRE NORTON $1.25 each Plague Ship Postmarked the Stars Quest Crosstime Sargasso of Space Sea Seige Secret of the Lost Race. Shadow Hawk The Sioux Spaceman Sorceress of Witch World Star Born Star Gate Star Guard Star Hunter & Voodoo Planet The Stars are Ours Storm Over Warlock Three Against the WitchWorld The Time Traders Uncharted Stars Victory on Janus Warlock of the Witch World Web of the Witch World Witch World The X Factor Year Of The Unicorn The Zero Stone _Available wherever paperbacks are sold or use this coupon._ * * * * * ace books, (Dept. MM) Box 576, Times Square Station New York, N.Y. 10036 Please send me titles checked above. I enclose $............... Add 25 handling fee per copy. Name................................................... Address................................................. City...................... State............ Zip........ End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Star Born, by Andre Norton *** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK STAR BORN *** ***** This file should be named 18458-8.txt or 18458-8.zip ***** This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: http://www.gutenberg.org/1/8/4/5/18458/ Produced by Jason Isbell, Greg Weeks, Sankar Viswanathan, and the Online Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions will be renamed. Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation (and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without permission and without paying copyright royalties. Special rules, set forth in the General Terms of Use part of this license, apply to copying and distributing Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works to protect the PROJECT GUTENBERG-tm concept and trademark. Project Gutenberg is a registered trademark, and may not be used if you charge for the eBooks, unless you receive specific permission. If you do not charge anything for copies of this eBook, complying with the rules is very easy. You may use this eBook for nearly any purpose such as creation of derivative works, reports, performances and research. They may be modified and printed and given away--you may do practically ANYTHING with public domain eBooks. Redistribution is subject to the trademark license, especially commercial redistribution. *** START: FULL LICENSE *** THE FULL PROJECT GUTENBERG LICENSE PLEASE READ THIS BEFORE YOU DISTRIBUTE OR USE THIS WORK To protect the Project Gutenberg-tm mission of promoting the free distribution of electronic works, by using or distributing this work (or any other work associated in any way with the phrase "Project Gutenberg"), you agree to comply with all the terms of the Full Project Gutenberg-tm License (available with this file or online at http://gutenberg.org/license). Section 1. General Terms of Use and Redistributing Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works 1.A. By reading or using any part of this Project Gutenberg-tm electronic work, you indicate that you have read, understand, agree to and accept all the terms of this license and intellectual property (trademark/copyright) agreement. If you do not agree to abide by all the terms of this agreement, you must cease using and return or destroy all copies of Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works in your possession. If you paid a fee for obtaining a copy of or access to a Project Gutenberg-tm electronic work and you do not agree to be bound by the terms of this agreement, you may obtain a refund from the person or entity to whom you paid the fee as set forth in paragraph 1.E.8. 1.B. "Project Gutenberg" is a registered trademark. It may only be used on or associated in any way with an electronic work by people who agree to be bound by the terms of this agreement. There are a few things that you can do with most Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works even without complying with the full terms of this agreement. See paragraph 1.C below. There are a lot of things you can do with Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works if you follow the terms of this agreement and help preserve free future access to Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works. See paragraph 1.E below. 1.C. The Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation ("the Foundation" or PGLAF), owns a compilation copyright in the collection of Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works. Nearly all the individual works in the collection are in the public domain in the United States. If an individual work is in the public domain in the United States and you are located in the United States, we do not claim a right to prevent you from copying, distributing, performing, displaying or creating derivative works based on the work as long as all references to Project Gutenberg are removed. Of course, we hope that you will support the Project Gutenberg-tm mission of promoting free access to electronic works by freely sharing Project Gutenberg-tm works in compliance with the terms of this agreement for keeping the Project Gutenberg-tm name associated with the work. You can easily comply with the terms of this agreement by keeping this work in the same format with its attached full Project Gutenberg-tm License when you share it without charge with others. 1.D. The copyright laws of the place where you are located also govern what you can do with this work. Copyright laws in most countries are in a constant state of change. If you are outside the United States, check the laws of your country in addition to the terms of this agreement before downloading, copying, displaying, performing, distributing or creating derivative works based on this work or any other Project Gutenberg-tm work. The Foundation makes no representations concerning the copyright status of any work in any country outside the United States. 1.E. Unless you have removed all references to Project Gutenberg: 1.E.1. The following sentence, with active links to, or other immediate access to, the full Project Gutenberg-tm License must appear prominently whenever any copy of a Project Gutenberg-tm work (any work on which the phrase "Project Gutenberg" appears, or with which the phrase "Project Gutenberg" is associated) is accessed, displayed, performed, viewed, copied or distributed: This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org 1.E.2. If an individual Project Gutenberg-tm electronic work is derived from the public domain (does not contain a notice indicating that it is posted with permission of the copyright holder), the work can be copied and distributed to anyone in the United States without paying any fees or charges. If you are redistributing or providing access to a work with the phrase "Project Gutenberg" associated with or appearing on the work, you must comply either with the requirements of paragraphs 1.E.1 through 1.E.7 or obtain permission for the use of the work and the Project Gutenberg-tm trademark as set forth in paragraphs 1.E.8 or 1.E.9. 1.E.3. If an individual Project Gutenberg-tm electronic work is posted with the permission of the copyright holder, your use and distribution must comply with both paragraphs 1.E.1 through 1.E.7 and any additional terms imposed by the copyright holder. Additional terms will be linked to the Project Gutenberg-tm License for all works posted with the permission of the copyright holder found at the beginning of this work. 1.E.4. Do not unlink or detach or remove the full Project Gutenberg-tm License terms from this work, or any files containing a part of this work or any other work associated with Project Gutenberg-tm. 1.E.5. Do not copy, display, perform, distribute or redistribute this electronic work, or any part of this electronic work, without prominently displaying the sentence set forth in paragraph 1.E.1 with active links or immediate access to the full terms of the Project Gutenberg-tm License. 1.E.6. You may convert to and distribute this work in any binary, compressed, marked up, nonproprietary or proprietary form, including any word processing or hypertext form. However, if you provide access to or distribute copies of a Project Gutenberg-tm work in a format other than "Plain Vanilla ASCII" or other format used in the official version posted on the official Project Gutenberg-tm web site (www.gutenberg.org), you must, at no additional cost, fee or expense to the user, provide a copy, a means of exporting a copy, or a means of obtaining a copy upon request, of the work in its original "Plain Vanilla ASCII" or other form. Any alternate format must include the full Project Gutenberg-tm License as specified in paragraph 1.E.1. 1.E.7. Do not charge a fee for access to, viewing, displaying, performing, copying or distributing any Project Gutenberg-tm works unless you comply with paragraph 1.E.8 or 1.E.9. 1.E.8. You may charge a reasonable fee for copies of or providing access to or distributing Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works provided that - You pay a royalty fee of 20% of the gross profits you derive from the use of Project Gutenberg-tm works calculated using the method you already use to calculate your applicable taxes. The fee is owed to the owner of the Project Gutenberg-tm trademark, but he has agreed to donate royalties under this paragraph to the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation. Royalty payments must be paid within 60 days following each date on which you prepare (or are legally required to prepare) your periodic tax returns. Royalty payments should be clearly marked as such and sent to the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation at the address specified in Section 4, "Information about donations to the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation." - You provide a full refund of any money paid by a user who notifies you in writing (or by e-mail) within 30 days of receipt that s/he does not agree to the terms of the full Project Gutenberg-tm License. You must require such a user to return or destroy all copies of the works possessed in a physical medium and discontinue all use of and all access to other copies of Project Gutenberg-tm works. - You provide, in accordance with paragraph 1.F.3, a full refund of any money paid for a work or a replacement copy, if a defect in the electronic work is discovered and reported to you within 90 days of receipt of the work. - You comply with all other terms of this agreement for free distribution of Project Gutenberg-tm works. 1.E.9. If you wish to charge a fee or distribute a Project Gutenberg-tm electronic work or group of works on different terms than are set forth in this agreement, you must obtain permission in writing from both the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation and Michael Hart, the owner of the Project Gutenberg-tm trademark. Contact the Foundation as set forth in Section 3 below. 1.F. 1.F.1. Project Gutenberg volunteers and employees expend considerable effort to identify, do copyright research on, transcribe and proofread public domain works in creating the Project Gutenberg-tm collection. Despite these efforts, Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works, and the medium on which they may be stored, may contain "Defects," such as, but not limited to, incomplete, inaccurate or corrupt data, transcription errors, a copyright or other intellectual property infringement, a defective or damaged disk or other medium, a computer virus, or computer codes that damage or cannot be read by your equipment. 1.F.2. LIMITED WARRANTY, DISCLAIMER OF DAMAGES - Except for the "Right of Replacement or Refund" described in paragraph 1.F.3, the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation, the owner of the Project Gutenberg-tm trademark, and any other party distributing a Project Gutenberg-tm electronic work under this agreement, disclaim all liability to you for damages, costs and expenses, including legal fees. YOU AGREE THAT YOU HAVE NO REMEDIES FOR NEGLIGENCE, STRICT LIABILITY, BREACH OF WARRANTY OR BREACH OF CONTRACT EXCEPT THOSE PROVIDED IN PARAGRAPH F3. YOU AGREE THAT THE FOUNDATION, THE TRADEMARK OWNER, AND ANY DISTRIBUTOR UNDER THIS AGREEMENT WILL NOT BE LIABLE TO YOU FOR ACTUAL, DIRECT, INDIRECT, CONSEQUENTIAL, PUNITIVE OR INCIDENTAL DAMAGES EVEN IF YOU GIVE NOTICE OF THE POSSIBILITY OF SUCH DAMAGE. 1.F.3. LIMITED RIGHT OF REPLACEMENT OR REFUND - If you discover a defect in this electronic work within 90 days of receiving it, you can receive a refund of the money (if any) you paid for it by sending a written explanation to the person you received the work from. If you received the work on a physical medium, you must return the medium with your written explanation. The person or entity that provided you with the defective work may elect to provide a replacement copy in lieu of a refund. If you received the work electronically, the person or entity providing it to you may choose to give you a second opportunity to receive the work electronically in lieu of a refund. If the second copy is also defective, you may demand a refund in writing without further opportunities to fix the problem. 1.F.4. Except for the limited right of replacement or refund set forth in paragraph 1.F.3, this work is provided to you 'AS-IS' WITH NO OTHER WARRANTIES OF ANY KIND, EXPRESS OR IMPLIED, INCLUDING BUT NOT LIMITED TO WARRANTIES OF MERCHANTIBILITY OR FITNESS FOR ANY PURPOSE. 1.F.5. Some states do not allow disclaimers of certain implied warranties or the exclusion or limitation of certain types of damages. If any disclaimer or limitation set forth in this agreement violates the law of the state applicable to this agreement, the agreement shall be interpreted to make the maximum disclaimer or limitation permitted by the applicable state law. The invalidity or unenforceability of any provision of this agreement shall not void the remaining provisions. 1.F.6. INDEMNITY - You agree to indemnify and hold the Foundation, the trademark owner, any agent or employee of the Foundation, anyone providing copies of Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works in accordance with this agreement, and any volunteers associated with the production, promotion and distribution of Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works, harmless from all liability, costs and expenses, including legal fees, that arise directly or indirectly from any of the following which you do or cause to occur: (a) distribution of this or any Project Gutenberg-tm work, (b) alteration, modification, or additions or deletions to any Project Gutenberg-tm work, and (c) any Defect you cause. Section 2. Information about the Mission of Project Gutenberg-tm Project Gutenberg-tm is synonymous with the free distribution of electronic works in formats readable by the widest variety of computers including obsolete, old, middle-aged and new computers. It exists because of the efforts of hundreds of volunteers and donations from people in all walks of life. Volunteers and financial support to provide volunteers with the assistance they need, is critical to reaching Project Gutenberg-tm's goals and ensuring that the Project Gutenberg-tm collection will remain freely available for generations to come. In 2001, the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation was created to provide a secure and permanent future for Project Gutenberg-tm and future generations. To learn more about the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation and how your efforts and donations can help, see Sections 3 and 4 and the Foundation web page at http://www.pglaf.org. Section 3. Information about the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation The Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation is a non profit 501(c)(3) educational corporation organized under the laws of the state of Mississippi and granted tax exempt status by the Internal Revenue Service. The Foundation's EIN or federal tax identification number is 64-6221541. Its 501(c)(3) letter is posted at http://pglaf.org/fundraising. Contributions to the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation are tax deductible to the full extent permitted by U.S. federal laws and your state's laws. The Foundation's principal office is located at 4557 Melan Dr. S. Fairbanks, AK, 99712., but its volunteers and employees are scattered throughout numerous locations. Its business office is located at 809 North 1500 West, Salt Lake City, UT 84116, (801) 596-1887, email [email protected]. Email contact links and up to date contact information can be found at the Foundation's web site and official page at http://pglaf.org For additional contact information: Dr. Gregory B. Newby

disappeared

How many times the word 'disappeared' appears in the text?

you to understand. No, your knowledge is not corrupt, it would not carry with it the same seeds of disaster as that of Those Others. But it would be too easy for us to accept, to walk a softer road, to forget what we have so far won. Just give us time--" Raf cupped his palms over his watering eyes. He wanted badly to see clearly the other's face, to be able to read his expression. Yet it seemed that somehow he _was_ able to see that sober face, as sincere as the words in his mind. "You will come again," Dalgard said with certainty. "And we shall be waiting because you, Raf Kurbi, made it possible." There was something so solemn about that that Raf looked up in surprise. "When you destroyed the core of Those Other's holding, you gave us our chance. For had you not done that we, the mermen, the other harmless, happy creatures of this world, would have been wiped out. There would be no new beginning here, only a dark and horrible end." Raf blinked; to his surprise that other figure standing in the direct sunlight did not waver, and beyond the proudly held head was a stretch of turquoise sky. He could see the color! "Yes, you shall see with your eyes--and with your mind," now Dalgard spoke aloud. "And if the Spirit which rules all space is kind, you shall return to your own people. For you have served His cause well." Then, as if he were embarrassed by his own solemnity, Dalgard ended with a most prosaic inquiry: "Would you like shellfish for eating?" Moments later, wading out into the water-swirled sand, his boots kicked off, his toes feeling for the elusive shelled creatures no one could see, Raf felt happier, freer than he could ever remember having been before. It was going to be all right. He could _see_! He would find the ship! He laughed aloud at nothing and heard an answering chuckle and then a whoop of triumph from the scout stooping to claw one of their prey out of hiding. It was after they had eaten that Dalgard asked another question, one which did not seem important to Raf. "You have a close friend among the crew of your ship?" Raf hesitated. Now that he was obliged to consider the point, did he have any friends--let alone a close one--among the crew of the _RS 10_? Certainly he did not claim Wonstead who had shared his quarters--he honestly did not care if he never saw him again. The officers, the experts such as Lablet--quickly face and character of each swept through his mind and was as swiftly discarded. There was Soriki--He could not claim the com-tech as any special friend, but at least during their period together among the aliens he had come to know him better. Now, as if Dalgard had read his mind--and he probably had, thought Raf with a flash of the old resentment--he had another question. "And what was he--is he like?" Though the pilot could see little reason for this he answered as best he could, trying to build first a physical picture of the com-tech and then doing a little guessing as to what lay under the other's space-burned skin. Dalgard lay on his back, gazing up into the blue-green sky. Yet Raf knew that he was intent on every word. A merman padded up, settled down cross-legged beside the scout, as if he too were enthralled by the pilot's halting description of a man he might never see again. Then a second of the sea people came and a third, until Raf felt that some sort of a noiseless council was in progress. His words trailed away, and then Dalgard offered an explanation. "It will take us many, many days to reach the place where your ship is. And before we are able to complete that journey your friends may be gone. So we shall try something else--with your aid." Raf fingered the little bundle of his possessions. Even his helmet with its com phone was missing. "No," again Dalgard read his mind. "Your machines are of no use to you now. We shall try _our_ way." "How?" Wild thoughts of a big signal fire--But how could that be sighted across a mountain range. Of some sort of an improvised com unit-- "I said _our_ way." There was a smile on Dalgard's face, visible to Raf's slowly clearing vision. "We shall provide another kind of machine, and these"--he waved at the mermen--"will give us the power, or so we hope. Lie here," he gestured to the sand beside him, "and think only of your friend in the ship, in his natural surroundings. Try to hold that picture constant in your mind, letting no other thought trouble it." "Do you mean--send a message to him mentally!" Raf's reply was half protest. "Did I not so reach you when we were in the city--even before I knew of you as an individual?" the scout reminded him. "And such messages are doubly possible when they are sent from friend to friend." "But we were close then." "That is why--" again Dalgard indicated the mermen. "For them this is the natural means of communication. They will pick up your reaching thought, amplify it with their power, beam it north. Since your friend deals with matters of communication, let us hope that he will be sensitive to this method." Raf was only half convinced that it might work But he remembered how Dalgard had established contact with him, before, as the scout had pointed out, they had met. It was that voiceless cry for aid which had pulled him into this adventure in the first place. It was only fitting that something of the same process give _him_ help in return. Obediently he stretched out on the sand and closed his dim eyes, trying to picture Soriki in the small cabin which held the com, slouched in his bucket seat, his deceptive posture that of a lax idler, as he had seen him so many times. Soriki--his broad face with its flat cheekbones, its wide cheerful mouth, its heavy-lidded eyes. And having fixed Soriki's face, he tried to believe that he was now confronting the com-tech, speaking directly to him. "Come--come and get me--south--seashore--Soriki come and get me!" The words formed a kind of chant, a chant aimed at that familiar face in its familiar surroundings. "South--come and get me--" Raf struggled to think only of that, to allow nothing to break through that chant or disturb his picture of the scene he had called from memory. How long that attempt at communication lasted the pilot could not tell, for somehow he slipped from the deep concentration into sleep, dreamless and untroubled, from which he awoke with the befogged feeling that something important had happened. But had he gotten through? The ring of mermen was gone, and it was dawn, gray, chill with the forewarnings of rain in the air. He was reassured because he was certain that in spite of the gloom his sight was a fraction clearer than it had been the day before. But had they gotten through? As he arose, brushing the sand from him, he saw the scout splashing out of the sea, a fish impaled on his spear. "Did we get through?" Raf blurted out. "Since your friend cannot reply with the mind touch, we do not know. But later we shall try again." To Raf's peering gaze Dalgard's face had a drawn, gaunt look as if he had been at hard labor during the hours just past. He walked up the beach slowly, without the springing step Raf had come to associate with him. As he settled down to gut the fish with one of the bone knives, the scout repeated, "We can try again--!" Half an hour later, as the rain swept in from the sea, Raf knew that they would not have to try. His head went up, his face eager. He had known that sound too long and too well ever to mistake it--the drone of a flitter motor cutting through the swish of the falling water. Some trick of the cliffs behind them must be magnifying and projecting the sound, for he could not sight the machine. But it was coming. He whirled to Dalgard, only to see that the other was on his feet and had taken up his spear. "It is the flitter! Soriki heard--they're coming!" Raf hastened to assure him. For the last time he saw Dalgard's slow, warm smile, clearer than he had ever seen it before. Then the scout turned and trotted away, toward a fringing rock wall. Before he dropped out of sight behind that barrier he raised the spear in salute. "Swift and fortunate voyaging!" He gave the farewell of Homeport. Then Raf understood. The colonist meant just what he had said: he wanted no contact with the space ship. To Raf he had owed a debt and now that was paid. But the time was not yet when the men of Astra and the men of Terra should meet. A hundred years from now perhaps--or a thousand--but not yet. And remembering what had summoned the flitter winging toward him, Raf drew a deep breath. What would the men of Astra accomplish in a hundred years? What could those of Terra do to match them in knowledge? It was a challenge, and he alone knew just how much of a challenge. Homeport must remain his own secret. He had been guided to this place, saved by the mermen alone. Dalgard and his people must not exist as far as the crew of the _RS 10_ were concerned. For the last time he experienced the intimacy of the mind touch. "That is it--brother!" Then the sensation was gone as the black blot of the flitter buzzed out of the clouds. From behind the rocks Dalgard watched the pilot enter the strange machine. For a single moment he had an impulse to shout, to run forward, to surrender to his desire to see the others, the ship which had brought them through space and would, they confidently believed, take them back to the Terra he knew only as a legend of the past. But he mastered that desire. He had been right. The road had already forked and there was no going back. He must carry this secret all the rest of his life--he must be strong-willed enough so that Homeport would never know. Time--give them time to be what they could be. Then in a hundred years--or a thousand--But not yet! * * * * * "Nobody today is telling better stories of straight-forward interstellar adventure." --_New York Herald-Tribune_ When Raf Kurbi's Terran spaceship burst into unexplored skies of the far planet Astra and was immediately made welcome by the natives of a once-mighty metropolis, Kurbi was unaware of three vital things: One was that Astra already harbored an Earth colony--descended from refugees from the world of the previous century. Two was that these men and women were facing the greatest danger of their existence from a new outburst of the inhuman fiends who had once tyrannized Astra. Three was that the natives who were buying Kurbi's science know-how were those very fiends--and their intentions were implacably deadly for all humans, whether Earth born or STAR BORN. _It's an Andre Norton space adventure--and therefore the tops in its field!_ * * * * * Quotes from the reviews: "All science-fiction fans will thrill to these new adventures created by Andre Norton.... All who enjoy a good adventure about the unknown parts of our galaxy will find this an enchanting story." --_Jackson _(_Tenn._) _Sun_ "Superb science-fiction." --_Montgomery Advertiser_ "Andre Norton adds another star to her literary laurels." --_Cleveland Press_ "A good, clearly thought-out story." --_New York Times_ "Exciting and adventure-laden." --_Library Journal_ "Suspense and excitement.... A storyteller of the first class, this is one of her best." --_Fantasy & Science Fiction_ * * * * * NOW AVAILABLE AGAIN! PERRY RHODAN 95 each #1 Enterprise Stardust Scheer & Ernsting #2 The Radiant Dome Scheer & Ernsting #3 Galactic Alarm Mahr & Shols #4 Invasion from Space Ernsting & Mahr #5 The Vega Sector Scheer & Mahr #6 Secret of the Time Vault Darlton #7 Fortress of the Six Moons Scheer #8 The Galactic Riddle Darlton #9 Quest through Space and Time Darlton #10 The Ghosts of Gol Mahr #11 Planet of the Dying Sun Mahr #12 Rebels of Tuglan Darlton #13 The Immortal Unknown Darlton #14 Venus in Danger Mahr #15 Escape To Venus Mahr #16 Secret Barrier X Shols #17 The Venus Trap Mahr #18 Menace of the Mutant Master Darlton #19 Mutants vs. Mutants Darlton #20 The Thrall of Hypno Darlton _Available wherever paperbacks an sold or use this coupon._ * * * * * ace books, (Dept. MM) Box 576, Times Square Station New York, N.Y. 10036 Please send me titles checked above. I enclose $.................. Add 25 handling fee per copy. Name.................................................... Address................................................. City...................... State............ Zip........ * * * * * ANDRE NORTON Android at Arms $1.25 Beast Master $1.25 Breed to Come $1.25 Catseye $1.25 The Crossroads Of Time $1.25 Dark Piper $1.25 Daybreak 2250 A.D. $1.25 Defiant Agents $1.25 Dragon Magic $1.25 Dread Companion $1.25 Exiles of the Stars $1.25 Eye of the Monster $1.25 Forerunner Foray $1.50 Galactic Derelict $1.25 High Sorcery $1.25 Huon of the Horn $1.25 Ice Crown $1.25 Judgment on Janus $1.25 Key Out of Time $1.25 The Last Planet $1.25 Lord of Thunder $1.25 Moon of Three Rings $1.25 Night of Masks $1.25 Operation Time Search $1.25 Ordeal In Otherwhere $1.25 _Available wherever paperbacks are sold or use this coupon._ * * * * * ace books, (Dept. MM) Box 576, Times Square Station New York. N.Y. 10036 Please send me titles checked above. I enclose $................ Add 25 handling fee per copy. Name................................................ Address.......................................... City............... State........... Zip......... * * * * * ANDRE NORTON $1.25 each Plague Ship Postmarked the Stars Quest Crosstime Sargasso of Space Sea Seige Secret of the Lost Race. Shadow Hawk The Sioux Spaceman Sorceress of Witch World Star Born Star Gate Star Guard Star Hunter & Voodoo Planet The Stars are Ours Storm Over Warlock Three Against the WitchWorld The Time Traders Uncharted Stars Victory on Janus Warlock of the Witch World Web of the Witch World Witch World The X Factor Year Of The Unicorn The Zero Stone _Available wherever paperbacks are sold or use this coupon._ * * * * * ace books, (Dept. MM) Box 576, Times Square Station New York, N.Y. 10036 Please send me titles checked above. I enclose $............... Add 25 handling fee per copy. Name................................................... Address................................................. City...................... State............ Zip........ End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Star Born, by Andre Norton *** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK STAR BORN *** ***** This file should be named 18458-8.txt or 18458-8.zip ***** This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: http://www.gutenberg.org/1/8/4/5/18458/ Produced by Jason Isbell, Greg Weeks, Sankar Viswanathan, and the Online Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions will be renamed. Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation (and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without permission and without paying copyright royalties. Special rules, set forth in the General Terms of Use part of this license, apply to copying and distributing Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works to protect the PROJECT GUTENBERG-tm concept and trademark. Project Gutenberg is a registered trademark, and may not be used if you charge for the eBooks, unless you receive specific permission. If you do not charge anything for copies of this eBook, complying with the rules is very easy. You may use this eBook for nearly any purpose such as creation of derivative works, reports, performances and research. They may be modified and printed and given away--you may do practically ANYTHING with public domain eBooks. Redistribution is subject to the trademark license, especially commercial redistribution. *** START: FULL LICENSE *** THE FULL PROJECT GUTENBERG LICENSE PLEASE READ THIS BEFORE YOU DISTRIBUTE OR USE THIS WORK To protect the Project Gutenberg-tm mission of promoting the free distribution of electronic works, by using or distributing this work (or any other work associated in any way with the phrase "Project Gutenberg"), you agree to comply with all the terms of the Full Project Gutenberg-tm License (available with this file or online at http://gutenberg.org/license). Section 1. General Terms of Use and Redistributing Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works 1.A. By reading or using any part of this Project Gutenberg-tm electronic work, you indicate that you have read, understand, agree to and accept all the terms of this license and intellectual property (trademark/copyright) agreement. If you do not agree to abide by all the terms of this agreement, you must cease using and return or destroy all copies of Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works in your possession. If you paid a fee for obtaining a copy of or access to a Project Gutenberg-tm electronic work and you do not agree to be bound by the terms of this agreement, you may obtain a refund from the person or entity to whom you paid the fee as set forth in paragraph 1.E.8. 1.B. "Project Gutenberg" is a registered trademark. It may only be used on or associated in any way with an electronic work by people who agree to be bound by the terms of this agreement. There are a few things that you can do with most Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works even without complying with the full terms of this agreement. See paragraph 1.C below. There are a lot of things you can do with Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works if you follow the terms of this agreement and help preserve free future access to Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works. See paragraph 1.E below. 1.C. The Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation ("the Foundation" or PGLAF), owns a compilation copyright in the collection of Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works. Nearly all the individual works in the collection are in the public domain in the United States. If an individual work is in the public domain in the United States and you are located in the United States, we do not claim a right to prevent you from copying, distributing, performing, displaying or creating derivative works based on the work as long as all references to Project Gutenberg are removed. Of course, we hope that you will support the Project Gutenberg-tm mission of promoting free access to electronic works by freely sharing Project Gutenberg-tm works in compliance with the terms of this agreement for keeping the Project Gutenberg-tm name associated with the work. You can easily comply with the terms of this agreement by keeping this work in the same format with its attached full Project Gutenberg-tm License when you share it without charge with others. 1.D. The copyright laws of the place where you are located also govern what you can do with this work. Copyright laws in most countries are in a constant state of change. If you are outside the United States, check the laws of your country in addition to the terms of this agreement before downloading, copying, displaying, performing, distributing or creating derivative works based on this work or any other Project Gutenberg-tm work. The Foundation makes no representations concerning the copyright status of any work in any country outside the United States. 1.E. Unless you have removed all references to Project Gutenberg: 1.E.1. The following sentence, with active links to, or other immediate access to, the full Project Gutenberg-tm License must appear prominently whenever any copy of a Project Gutenberg-tm work (any work on which the phrase "Project Gutenberg" appears, or with which the phrase "Project Gutenberg" is associated) is accessed, displayed, performed, viewed, copied or distributed: This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org 1.E.2. If an individual Project Gutenberg-tm electronic work is derived from the public domain (does not contain a notice indicating that it is posted with permission of the copyright holder), the work can be copied and distributed to anyone in the United States without paying any fees or charges. If you are redistributing or providing access to a work with the phrase "Project Gutenberg" associated with or appearing on the work, you must comply either with the requirements of paragraphs 1.E.1 through 1.E.7 or obtain permission for the use of the work and the Project Gutenberg-tm trademark as set forth in paragraphs 1.E.8 or 1.E.9. 1.E.3. If an individual Project Gutenberg-tm electronic work is posted with the permission of the copyright holder, your use and distribution must comply with both paragraphs 1.E.1 through 1.E.7 and any additional terms imposed by the copyright holder. Additional terms will be linked to the Project Gutenberg-tm License for all works posted with the permission of the copyright holder found at the beginning of this work. 1.E.4. Do not unlink or detach or remove the full Project Gutenberg-tm License terms from this work, or any files containing a part of this work or any other work associated with Project Gutenberg-tm. 1.E.5. Do not copy, display, perform, distribute or redistribute this electronic work, or any part of this electronic work, without prominently displaying the sentence set forth in paragraph 1.E.1 with active links or immediate access to the full terms of the Project Gutenberg-tm License. 1.E.6. You may convert to and distribute this work in any binary, compressed, marked up, nonproprietary or proprietary form, including any word processing or hypertext form. However, if you provide access to or distribute copies of a Project Gutenberg-tm work in a format other than "Plain Vanilla ASCII" or other format used in the official version posted on the official Project Gutenberg-tm web site (www.gutenberg.org), you must, at no additional cost, fee or expense to the user, provide a copy, a means of exporting a copy, or a means of obtaining a copy upon request, of the work in its original "Plain Vanilla ASCII" or other form. Any alternate format must include the full Project Gutenberg-tm License as specified in paragraph 1.E.1. 1.E.7. Do not charge a fee for access to, viewing, displaying, performing, copying or distributing any Project Gutenberg-tm works unless you comply with paragraph 1.E.8 or 1.E.9. 1.E.8. You may charge a reasonable fee for copies of or providing access to or distributing Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works provided that - You pay a royalty fee of 20% of the gross profits you derive from the use of Project Gutenberg-tm works calculated using the method you already use to calculate your applicable taxes. The fee is owed to the owner of the Project Gutenberg-tm trademark, but he has agreed to donate royalties under this paragraph to the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation. Royalty payments must be paid within 60 days following each date on which you prepare (or are legally required to prepare) your periodic tax returns. Royalty payments should be clearly marked as such and sent to the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation at the address specified in Section 4, "Information about donations to the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation." - You provide a full refund of any money paid by a user who notifies you in writing (or by e-mail) within 30 days of receipt that s/he does not agree to the terms of the full Project Gutenberg-tm License. You must require such a user to return or destroy all copies of the works possessed in a physical medium and discontinue all use of and all access to other copies of Project Gutenberg-tm works. - You provide, in accordance with paragraph 1.F.3, a full refund of any money paid for a work or a replacement copy, if a defect in the electronic work is discovered and reported to you within 90 days of receipt of the work. - You comply with all other terms of this agreement for free distribution of Project Gutenberg-tm works. 1.E.9. If you wish to charge a fee or distribute a Project Gutenberg-tm electronic work or group of works on different terms than are set forth in this agreement, you must obtain permission in writing from both the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation and Michael Hart, the owner of the Project Gutenberg-tm trademark. Contact the Foundation as set forth in Section 3 below. 1.F. 1.F.1. Project Gutenberg volunteers and employees expend considerable effort to identify, do copyright research on, transcribe and proofread public domain works in creating the Project Gutenberg-tm collection. Despite these efforts, Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works, and the medium on which they may be stored, may contain "Defects," such as, but not limited to, incomplete, inaccurate or corrupt data, transcription errors, a copyright or other intellectual property infringement, a defective or damaged disk or other medium, a computer virus, or computer codes that damage or cannot be read by your equipment. 1.F.2. LIMITED WARRANTY, DISCLAIMER OF DAMAGES - Except for the "Right of Replacement or Refund" described in paragraph 1.F.3, the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation, the owner of the Project Gutenberg-tm trademark, and any other party distributing a Project Gutenberg-tm electronic work under this agreement, disclaim all liability to you for damages, costs and expenses, including legal fees. YOU AGREE THAT YOU HAVE NO REMEDIES FOR NEGLIGENCE, STRICT LIABILITY, BREACH OF WARRANTY OR BREACH OF CONTRACT EXCEPT THOSE PROVIDED IN PARAGRAPH F3. YOU AGREE THAT THE FOUNDATION, THE TRADEMARK OWNER, AND ANY DISTRIBUTOR UNDER THIS AGREEMENT WILL NOT BE LIABLE TO YOU FOR ACTUAL, DIRECT, INDIRECT, CONSEQUENTIAL, PUNITIVE OR INCIDENTAL DAMAGES EVEN IF YOU GIVE NOTICE OF THE POSSIBILITY OF SUCH DAMAGE. 1.F.3. LIMITED RIGHT OF REPLACEMENT OR REFUND - If you discover a defect in this electronic work within 90 days of receiving it, you can receive a refund of the money (if any) you paid for it by sending a written explanation to the person you received the work from. If you received the work on a physical medium, you must return the medium with your written explanation. The person or entity that provided you with the defective work may elect to provide a replacement copy in lieu of a refund. If you received the work electronically, the person or entity providing it to you may choose to give you a second opportunity to receive the work electronically in lieu of a refund. If the second copy is also defective, you may demand a refund in writing without further opportunities to fix the problem. 1.F.4. Except for the limited right of replacement or refund set forth in paragraph 1.F.3, this work is provided to you 'AS-IS' WITH NO OTHER WARRANTIES OF ANY KIND, EXPRESS OR IMPLIED, INCLUDING BUT NOT LIMITED TO WARRANTIES OF MERCHANTIBILITY OR FITNESS FOR ANY PURPOSE. 1.F.5. Some states do not allow disclaimers of certain implied warranties or the exclusion or limitation of certain types of damages. If any disclaimer or limitation set forth in this agreement violates the law of the state applicable to this agreement, the agreement shall be interpreted to make the maximum disclaimer or limitation permitted by the applicable state law. The invalidity or unenforceability of any provision of this agreement shall not void the remaining provisions. 1.F.6. INDEMNITY - You agree to indemnify and hold the Foundation, the trademark owner, any agent or employee of the Foundation, anyone providing copies of Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works in accordance with this agreement, and any volunteers associated with the production, promotion and distribution of Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works, harmless from all liability, costs and expenses, including legal fees, that arise directly or indirectly from any of the following which you do or cause to occur: (a) distribution of this or any Project Gutenberg-tm work, (b) alteration, modification, or additions or deletions to any Project Gutenberg-tm work, and (c) any Defect you cause. Section 2. Information about the Mission of Project Gutenberg-tm Project Gutenberg-tm is synonymous with the free distribution of electronic works in formats readable by the widest variety of computers including obsolete, old, middle-aged and new computers. It exists because of the efforts of hundreds of volunteers and donations from people in all walks of life. Volunteers and financial support to provide volunteers with the assistance they need, is critical to reaching Project Gutenberg-tm's goals and ensuring that the Project Gutenberg-tm collection will remain freely available for generations to come. In 2001, the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation was created to provide a secure and permanent future for Project Gutenberg-tm and future generations. To learn more about the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation and how your efforts and donations can help, see Sections 3 and 4 and the Foundation web page at http://www.pglaf.org. Section 3. Information about the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation The Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation is a non profit 501(c)(3) educational corporation organized under the laws of the state of Mississippi and granted tax exempt status by the Internal Revenue Service. The Foundation's EIN or federal tax identification number is 64-6221541. Its 501(c)(3) letter is posted at http://pglaf.org/fundraising. Contributions to the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation are tax deductible to the full extent permitted by U.S. federal laws and your state's laws. The Foundation's principal office is located at 4557 Melan Dr. S. Fairbanks, AK, 99712., but its volunteers and employees are scattered throughout numerous locations. Its business office is located at 809 North 1500 West, Salt Lake City, UT 84116, (801) 596-1887, email [email protected]. Email contact links and up to date contact information can be found at the Foundation's web site and official page at http://pglaf.org For additional contact information: Dr. Gregory B. Newby

many

How many times the word 'many' appears in the text?

you to understand. No, your knowledge is not corrupt, it would not carry with it the same seeds of disaster as that of Those Others. But it would be too easy for us to accept, to walk a softer road, to forget what we have so far won. Just give us time--" Raf cupped his palms over his watering eyes. He wanted badly to see clearly the other's face, to be able to read his expression. Yet it seemed that somehow he _was_ able to see that sober face, as sincere as the words in his mind. "You will come again," Dalgard said with certainty. "And we shall be waiting because you, Raf Kurbi, made it possible." There was something so solemn about that that Raf looked up in surprise. "When you destroyed the core of Those Other's holding, you gave us our chance. For had you not done that we, the mermen, the other harmless, happy creatures of this world, would have been wiped out. There would be no new beginning here, only a dark and horrible end." Raf blinked; to his surprise that other figure standing in the direct sunlight did not waver, and beyond the proudly held head was a stretch of turquoise sky. He could see the color! "Yes, you shall see with your eyes--and with your mind," now Dalgard spoke aloud. "And if the Spirit which rules all space is kind, you shall return to your own people. For you have served His cause well." Then, as if he were embarrassed by his own solemnity, Dalgard ended with a most prosaic inquiry: "Would you like shellfish for eating?" Moments later, wading out into the water-swirled sand, his boots kicked off, his toes feeling for the elusive shelled creatures no one could see, Raf felt happier, freer than he could ever remember having been before. It was going to be all right. He could _see_! He would find the ship! He laughed aloud at nothing and heard an answering chuckle and then a whoop of triumph from the scout stooping to claw one of their prey out of hiding. It was after they had eaten that Dalgard asked another question, one which did not seem important to Raf. "You have a close friend among the crew of your ship?" Raf hesitated. Now that he was obliged to consider the point, did he have any friends--let alone a close one--among the crew of the _RS 10_? Certainly he did not claim Wonstead who had shared his quarters--he honestly did not care if he never saw him again. The officers, the experts such as Lablet--quickly face and character of each swept through his mind and was as swiftly discarded. There was Soriki--He could not claim the com-tech as any special friend, but at least during their period together among the aliens he had come to know him better. Now, as if Dalgard had read his mind--and he probably had, thought Raf with a flash of the old resentment--he had another question. "And what was he--is he like?" Though the pilot could see little reason for this he answered as best he could, trying to build first a physical picture of the com-tech and then doing a little guessing as to what lay under the other's space-burned skin. Dalgard lay on his back, gazing up into the blue-green sky. Yet Raf knew that he was intent on every word. A merman padded up, settled down cross-legged beside the scout, as if he too were enthralled by the pilot's halting description of a man he might never see again. Then a second of the sea people came and a third, until Raf felt that some sort of a noiseless council was in progress. His words trailed away, and then Dalgard offered an explanation. "It will take us many, many days to reach the place where your ship is. And before we are able to complete that journey your friends may be gone. So we shall try something else--with your aid." Raf fingered the little bundle of his possessions. Even his helmet with its com phone was missing. "No," again Dalgard read his mind. "Your machines are of no use to you now. We shall try _our_ way." "How?" Wild thoughts of a big signal fire--But how could that be sighted across a mountain range. Of some sort of an improvised com unit-- "I said _our_ way." There was a smile on Dalgard's face, visible to Raf's slowly clearing vision. "We shall provide another kind of machine, and these"--he waved at the mermen--"will give us the power, or so we hope. Lie here," he gestured to the sand beside him, "and think only of your friend in the ship, in his natural surroundings. Try to hold that picture constant in your mind, letting no other thought trouble it." "Do you mean--send a message to him mentally!" Raf's reply was half protest. "Did I not so reach you when we were in the city--even before I knew of you as an individual?" the scout reminded him. "And such messages are doubly possible when they are sent from friend to friend." "But we were close then." "That is why--" again Dalgard indicated the mermen. "For them this is the natural means of communication. They will pick up your reaching thought, amplify it with their power, beam it north. Since your friend deals with matters of communication, let us hope that he will be sensitive to this method." Raf was only half convinced that it might work But he remembered how Dalgard had established contact with him, before, as the scout had pointed out, they had met. It was that voiceless cry for aid which had pulled him into this adventure in the first place. It was only fitting that something of the same process give _him_ help in return. Obediently he stretched out on the sand and closed his dim eyes, trying to picture Soriki in the small cabin which held the com, slouched in his bucket seat, his deceptive posture that of a lax idler, as he had seen him so many times. Soriki--his broad face with its flat cheekbones, its wide cheerful mouth, its heavy-lidded eyes. And having fixed Soriki's face, he tried to believe that he was now confronting the com-tech, speaking directly to him. "Come--come and get me--south--seashore--Soriki come and get me!" The words formed a kind of chant, a chant aimed at that familiar face in its familiar surroundings. "South--come and get me--" Raf struggled to think only of that, to allow nothing to break through that chant or disturb his picture of the scene he had called from memory. How long that attempt at communication lasted the pilot could not tell, for somehow he slipped from the deep concentration into sleep, dreamless and untroubled, from which he awoke with the befogged feeling that something important had happened. But had he gotten through? The ring of mermen was gone, and it was dawn, gray, chill with the forewarnings of rain in the air. He was reassured because he was certain that in spite of the gloom his sight was a fraction clearer than it had been the day before. But had they gotten through? As he arose, brushing the sand from him, he saw the scout splashing out of the sea, a fish impaled on his spear. "Did we get through?" Raf blurted out. "Since your friend cannot reply with the mind touch, we do not know. But later we shall try again." To Raf's peering gaze Dalgard's face had a drawn, gaunt look as if he had been at hard labor during the hours just past. He walked up the beach slowly, without the springing step Raf had come to associate with him. As he settled down to gut the fish with one of the bone knives, the scout repeated, "We can try again--!" Half an hour later, as the rain swept in from the sea, Raf knew that they would not have to try. His head went up, his face eager. He had known that sound too long and too well ever to mistake it--the drone of a flitter motor cutting through the swish of the falling water. Some trick of the cliffs behind them must be magnifying and projecting the sound, for he could not sight the machine. But it was coming. He whirled to Dalgard, only to see that the other was on his feet and had taken up his spear. "It is the flitter! Soriki heard--they're coming!" Raf hastened to assure him. For the last time he saw Dalgard's slow, warm smile, clearer than he had ever seen it before. Then the scout turned and trotted away, toward a fringing rock wall. Before he dropped out of sight behind that barrier he raised the spear in salute. "Swift and fortunate voyaging!" He gave the farewell of Homeport. Then Raf understood. The colonist meant just what he had said: he wanted no contact with the space ship. To Raf he had owed a debt and now that was paid. But the time was not yet when the men of Astra and the men of Terra should meet. A hundred years from now perhaps--or a thousand--but not yet. And remembering what had summoned the flitter winging toward him, Raf drew a deep breath. What would the men of Astra accomplish in a hundred years? What could those of Terra do to match them in knowledge? It was a challenge, and he alone knew just how much of a challenge. Homeport must remain his own secret. He had been guided to this place, saved by the mermen alone. Dalgard and his people must not exist as far as the crew of the _RS 10_ were concerned. For the last time he experienced the intimacy of the mind touch. "That is it--brother!" Then the sensation was gone as the black blot of the flitter buzzed out of the clouds. From behind the rocks Dalgard watched the pilot enter the strange machine. For a single moment he had an impulse to shout, to run forward, to surrender to his desire to see the others, the ship which had brought them through space and would, they confidently believed, take them back to the Terra he knew only as a legend of the past. But he mastered that desire. He had been right. The road had already forked and there was no going back. He must carry this secret all the rest of his life--he must be strong-willed enough so that Homeport would never know. Time--give them time to be what they could be. Then in a hundred years--or a thousand--But not yet! * * * * * "Nobody today is telling better stories of straight-forward interstellar adventure." --_New York Herald-Tribune_ When Raf Kurbi's Terran spaceship burst into unexplored skies of the far planet Astra and was immediately made welcome by the natives of a once-mighty metropolis, Kurbi was unaware of three vital things: One was that Astra already harbored an Earth colony--descended from refugees from the world of the previous century. Two was that these men and women were facing the greatest danger of their existence from a new outburst of the inhuman fiends who had once tyrannized Astra. Three was that the natives who were buying Kurbi's science know-how were those very fiends--and their intentions were implacably deadly for all humans, whether Earth born or STAR BORN. _It's an Andre Norton space adventure--and therefore the tops in its field!_ * * * * * Quotes from the reviews: "All science-fiction fans will thrill to these new adventures created by Andre Norton.... All who enjoy a good adventure about the unknown parts of our galaxy will find this an enchanting story." --_Jackson _(_Tenn._) _Sun_ "Superb science-fiction." --_Montgomery Advertiser_ "Andre Norton adds another star to her literary laurels." --_Cleveland Press_ "A good, clearly thought-out story." --_New York Times_ "Exciting and adventure-laden." --_Library Journal_ "Suspense and excitement.... A storyteller of the first class, this is one of her best." --_Fantasy & Science Fiction_ * * * * * NOW AVAILABLE AGAIN! PERRY RHODAN 95 each #1 Enterprise Stardust Scheer & Ernsting #2 The Radiant Dome Scheer & Ernsting #3 Galactic Alarm Mahr & Shols #4 Invasion from Space Ernsting & Mahr #5 The Vega Sector Scheer & Mahr #6 Secret of the Time Vault Darlton #7 Fortress of the Six Moons Scheer #8 The Galactic Riddle Darlton #9 Quest through Space and Time Darlton #10 The Ghosts of Gol Mahr #11 Planet of the Dying Sun Mahr #12 Rebels of Tuglan Darlton #13 The Immortal Unknown Darlton #14 Venus in Danger Mahr #15 Escape To Venus Mahr #16 Secret Barrier X Shols #17 The Venus Trap Mahr #18 Menace of the Mutant Master Darlton #19 Mutants vs. Mutants Darlton #20 The Thrall of Hypno Darlton _Available wherever paperbacks an sold or use this coupon._ * * * * * ace books, (Dept. MM) Box 576, Times Square Station New York, N.Y. 10036 Please send me titles checked above. I enclose $.................. Add 25 handling fee per copy. Name.................................................... Address................................................. City...................... State............ Zip........ * * * * * ANDRE NORTON Android at Arms $1.25 Beast Master $1.25 Breed to Come $1.25 Catseye $1.25 The Crossroads Of Time $1.25 Dark Piper $1.25 Daybreak 2250 A.D. $1.25 Defiant Agents $1.25 Dragon Magic $1.25 Dread Companion $1.25 Exiles of the Stars $1.25 Eye of the Monster $1.25 Forerunner Foray $1.50 Galactic Derelict $1.25 High Sorcery $1.25 Huon of the Horn $1.25 Ice Crown $1.25 Judgment on Janus $1.25 Key Out of Time $1.25 The Last Planet $1.25 Lord of Thunder $1.25 Moon of Three Rings $1.25 Night of Masks $1.25 Operation Time Search $1.25 Ordeal In Otherwhere $1.25 _Available wherever paperbacks are sold or use this coupon._ * * * * * ace books, (Dept. MM) Box 576, Times Square Station New York. N.Y. 10036 Please send me titles checked above. I enclose $................ Add 25 handling fee per copy. Name................................................ Address.......................................... City............... State........... Zip......... * * * * * ANDRE NORTON $1.25 each Plague Ship Postmarked the Stars Quest Crosstime Sargasso of Space Sea Seige Secret of the Lost Race. Shadow Hawk The Sioux Spaceman Sorceress of Witch World Star Born Star Gate Star Guard Star Hunter & Voodoo Planet The Stars are Ours Storm Over Warlock Three Against the WitchWorld The Time Traders Uncharted Stars Victory on Janus Warlock of the Witch World Web of the Witch World Witch World The X Factor Year Of The Unicorn The Zero Stone _Available wherever paperbacks are sold or use this coupon._ * * * * * ace books, (Dept. MM) Box 576, Times Square Station New York, N.Y. 10036 Please send me titles checked above. I enclose $............... Add 25 handling fee per copy. Name................................................... Address................................................. City...................... State............ Zip........ End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Star Born, by Andre Norton *** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK STAR BORN *** ***** This file should be named 18458-8.txt or 18458-8.zip ***** This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: http://www.gutenberg.org/1/8/4/5/18458/ Produced by Jason Isbell, Greg Weeks, Sankar Viswanathan, and the Online Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions will be renamed. Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation (and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without permission and without paying copyright royalties. Special rules, set forth in the General Terms of Use part of this license, apply to copying and distributing Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works to protect the PROJECT GUTENBERG-tm concept and trademark. Project Gutenberg is a registered trademark, and may not be used if you charge for the eBooks, unless you receive specific permission. If you do not charge anything for copies of this eBook, complying with the rules is very easy. You may use this eBook for nearly any purpose such as creation of derivative works, reports, performances and research. They may be modified and printed and given away--you may do practically ANYTHING with public domain eBooks. Redistribution is subject to the trademark license, especially commercial redistribution. *** START: FULL LICENSE *** THE FULL PROJECT GUTENBERG LICENSE PLEASE READ THIS BEFORE YOU DISTRIBUTE OR USE THIS WORK To protect the Project Gutenberg-tm mission of promoting the free distribution of electronic works, by using or distributing this work (or any other work associated in any way with the phrase "Project Gutenberg"), you agree to comply with all the terms of the Full Project Gutenberg-tm License (available with this file or online at http://gutenberg.org/license). Section 1. General Terms of Use and Redistributing Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works 1.A. By reading or using any part of this Project Gutenberg-tm electronic work, you indicate that you have read, understand, agree to and accept all the terms of this license and intellectual property (trademark/copyright) agreement. If you do not agree to abide by all the terms of this agreement, you must cease using and return or destroy all copies of Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works in your possession. If you paid a fee for obtaining a copy of or access to a Project Gutenberg-tm electronic work and you do not agree to be bound by the terms of this agreement, you may obtain a refund from the person or entity to whom you paid the fee as set forth in paragraph 1.E.8. 1.B. "Project Gutenberg" is a registered trademark. It may only be used on or associated in any way with an electronic work by people who agree to be bound by the terms of this agreement. There are a few things that you can do with most Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works even without complying with the full terms of this agreement. See paragraph 1.C below. There are a lot of things you can do with Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works if you follow the terms of this agreement and help preserve free future access to Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works. See paragraph 1.E below. 1.C. The Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation ("the Foundation" or PGLAF), owns a compilation copyright in the collection of Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works. Nearly all the individual works in the collection are in the public domain in the United States. If an individual work is in the public domain in the United States and you are located in the United States, we do not claim a right to prevent you from copying, distributing, performing, displaying or creating derivative works based on the work as long as all references to Project Gutenberg are removed. Of course, we hope that you will support the Project Gutenberg-tm mission of promoting free access to electronic works by freely sharing Project Gutenberg-tm works in compliance with the terms of this agreement for keeping the Project Gutenberg-tm name associated with the work. You can easily comply with the terms of this agreement by keeping this work in the same format with its attached full Project Gutenberg-tm License when you share it without charge with others. 1.D. The copyright laws of the place where you are located also govern what you can do with this work. Copyright laws in most countries are in a constant state of change. If you are outside the United States, check the laws of your country in addition to the terms of this agreement before downloading, copying, displaying, performing, distributing or creating derivative works based on this work or any other Project Gutenberg-tm work. The Foundation makes no representations concerning the copyright status of any work in any country outside the United States. 1.E. Unless you have removed all references to Project Gutenberg: 1.E.1. The following sentence, with active links to, or other immediate access to, the full Project Gutenberg-tm License must appear prominently whenever any copy of a Project Gutenberg-tm work (any work on which the phrase "Project Gutenberg" appears, or with which the phrase "Project Gutenberg" is associated) is accessed, displayed, performed, viewed, copied or distributed: This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org 1.E.2. If an individual Project Gutenberg-tm electronic work is derived from the public domain (does not contain a notice indicating that it is posted with permission of the copyright holder), the work can be copied and distributed to anyone in the United States without paying any fees or charges. If you are redistributing or providing access to a work with the phrase "Project Gutenberg" associated with or appearing on the work, you must comply either with the requirements of paragraphs 1.E.1 through 1.E.7 or obtain permission for the use of the work and the Project Gutenberg-tm trademark as set forth in paragraphs 1.E.8 or 1.E.9. 1.E.3. If an individual Project Gutenberg-tm electronic work is posted with the permission of the copyright holder, your use and distribution must comply with both paragraphs 1.E.1 through 1.E.7 and any additional terms imposed by the copyright holder. Additional terms will be linked to the Project Gutenberg-tm License for all works posted with the permission of the copyright holder found at the beginning of this work. 1.E.4. Do not unlink or detach or remove the full Project Gutenberg-tm License terms from this work, or any files containing a part of this work or any other work associated with Project Gutenberg-tm. 1.E.5. Do not copy, display, perform, distribute or redistribute this electronic work, or any part of this electronic work, without prominently displaying the sentence set forth in paragraph 1.E.1 with active links or immediate access to the full terms of the Project Gutenberg-tm License. 1.E.6. You may convert to and distribute this work in any binary, compressed, marked up, nonproprietary or proprietary form, including any word processing or hypertext form. However, if you provide access to or distribute copies of a Project Gutenberg-tm work in a format other than "Plain Vanilla ASCII" or other format used in the official version posted on the official Project Gutenberg-tm web site (www.gutenberg.org), you must, at no additional cost, fee or expense to the user, provide a copy, a means of exporting a copy, or a means of obtaining a copy upon request, of the work in its original "Plain Vanilla ASCII" or other form. Any alternate format must include the full Project Gutenberg-tm License as specified in paragraph 1.E.1. 1.E.7. Do not charge a fee for access to, viewing, displaying, performing, copying or distributing any Project Gutenberg-tm works unless you comply with paragraph 1.E.8 or 1.E.9. 1.E.8. You may charge a reasonable fee for copies of or providing access to or distributing Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works provided that - You pay a royalty fee of 20% of the gross profits you derive from the use of Project Gutenberg-tm works calculated using the method you already use to calculate your applicable taxes. The fee is owed to the owner of the Project Gutenberg-tm trademark, but he has agreed to donate royalties under this paragraph to the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation. Royalty payments must be paid within 60 days following each date on which you prepare (or are legally required to prepare) your periodic tax returns. Royalty payments should be clearly marked as such and sent to the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation at the address specified in Section 4, "Information about donations to the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation." - You provide a full refund of any money paid by a user who notifies you in writing (or by e-mail) within 30 days of receipt that s/he does not agree to the terms of the full Project Gutenberg-tm License. You must require such a user to return or destroy all copies of the works possessed in a physical medium and discontinue all use of and all access to other copies of Project Gutenberg-tm works. - You provide, in accordance with paragraph 1.F.3, a full refund of any money paid for a work or a replacement copy, if a defect in the electronic work is discovered and reported to you within 90 days of receipt of the work. - You comply with all other terms of this agreement for free distribution of Project Gutenberg-tm works. 1.E.9. If you wish to charge a fee or distribute a Project Gutenberg-tm electronic work or group of works on different terms than are set forth in this agreement, you must obtain permission in writing from both the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation and Michael Hart, the owner of the Project Gutenberg-tm trademark. Contact the Foundation as set forth in Section 3 below. 1.F. 1.F.1. Project Gutenberg volunteers and employees expend considerable effort to identify, do copyright research on, transcribe and proofread public domain works in creating the Project Gutenberg-tm collection. Despite these efforts, Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works, and the medium on which they may be stored, may contain "Defects," such as, but not limited to, incomplete, inaccurate or corrupt data, transcription errors, a copyright or other intellectual property infringement, a defective or damaged disk or other medium, a computer virus, or computer codes that damage or cannot be read by your equipment. 1.F.2. LIMITED WARRANTY, DISCLAIMER OF DAMAGES - Except for the "Right of Replacement or Refund" described in paragraph 1.F.3, the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation, the owner of the Project Gutenberg-tm trademark, and any other party distributing a Project Gutenberg-tm electronic work under this agreement, disclaim all liability to you for damages, costs and expenses, including legal fees. YOU AGREE THAT YOU HAVE NO REMEDIES FOR NEGLIGENCE, STRICT LIABILITY, BREACH OF WARRANTY OR BREACH OF CONTRACT EXCEPT THOSE PROVIDED IN PARAGRAPH F3. YOU AGREE THAT THE FOUNDATION, THE TRADEMARK OWNER, AND ANY DISTRIBUTOR UNDER THIS AGREEMENT WILL NOT BE LIABLE TO YOU FOR ACTUAL, DIRECT, INDIRECT, CONSEQUENTIAL, PUNITIVE OR INCIDENTAL DAMAGES EVEN IF YOU GIVE NOTICE OF THE POSSIBILITY OF SUCH DAMAGE. 1.F.3. LIMITED RIGHT OF REPLACEMENT OR REFUND - If you discover a defect in this electronic work within 90 days of receiving it, you can receive a refund of the money (if any) you paid for it by sending a written explanation to the person you received the work from. If you received the work on a physical medium, you must return the medium with your written explanation. The person or entity that provided you with the defective work may elect to provide a replacement copy in lieu of a refund. If you received the work electronically, the person or entity providing it to you may choose to give you a second opportunity to receive the work electronically in lieu of a refund. If the second copy is also defective, you may demand a refund in writing without further opportunities to fix the problem. 1.F.4. Except for the limited right of replacement or refund set forth in paragraph 1.F.3, this work is provided to you 'AS-IS' WITH NO OTHER WARRANTIES OF ANY KIND, EXPRESS OR IMPLIED, INCLUDING BUT NOT LIMITED TO WARRANTIES OF MERCHANTIBILITY OR FITNESS FOR ANY PURPOSE. 1.F.5. Some states do not allow disclaimers of certain implied warranties or the exclusion or limitation of certain types of damages. If any disclaimer or limitation set forth in this agreement violates the law of the state applicable to this agreement, the agreement shall be interpreted to make the maximum disclaimer or limitation permitted by the applicable state law. The invalidity or unenforceability of any provision of this agreement shall not void the remaining provisions. 1.F.6. INDEMNITY - You agree to indemnify and hold the Foundation, the trademark owner, any agent or employee of the Foundation, anyone providing copies of Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works in accordance with this agreement, and any volunteers associated with the production, promotion and distribution of Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works, harmless from all liability, costs and expenses, including legal fees, that arise directly or indirectly from any of the following which you do or cause to occur: (a) distribution of this or any Project Gutenberg-tm work, (b) alteration, modification, or additions or deletions to any Project Gutenberg-tm work, and (c) any Defect you cause. Section 2. Information about the Mission of Project Gutenberg-tm Project Gutenberg-tm is synonymous with the free distribution of electronic works in formats readable by the widest variety of computers including obsolete, old, middle-aged and new computers. It exists because of the efforts of hundreds of volunteers and donations from people in all walks of life. Volunteers and financial support to provide volunteers with the assistance they need, is critical to reaching Project Gutenberg-tm's goals and ensuring that the Project Gutenberg-tm collection will remain freely available for generations to come. In 2001, the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation was created to provide a secure and permanent future for Project Gutenberg-tm and future generations. To learn more about the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation and how your efforts and donations can help, see Sections 3 and 4 and the Foundation web page at http://www.pglaf.org. Section 3. Information about the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation The Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation is a non profit 501(c)(3) educational corporation organized under the laws of the state of Mississippi and granted tax exempt status by the Internal Revenue Service. The Foundation's EIN or federal tax identification number is 64-6221541. Its 501(c)(3) letter is posted at http://pglaf.org/fundraising. Contributions to the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation are tax deductible to the full extent permitted by U.S. federal laws and your state's laws. The Foundation's principal office is located at 4557 Melan Dr. S. Fairbanks, AK, 99712., but its volunteers and employees are scattered throughout numerous locations. Its business office is located at 809 North 1500 West, Salt Lake City, UT 84116, (801) 596-1887, email [email protected]. Email contact links and up to date contact information can be found at the Foundation's web site and official page at http://pglaf.org For additional contact information: Dr. Gregory B. Newby

close

How many times the word 'close' appears in the text?

you to understand. No, your knowledge is not corrupt, it would not carry with it the same seeds of disaster as that of Those Others. But it would be too easy for us to accept, to walk a softer road, to forget what we have so far won. Just give us time--" Raf cupped his palms over his watering eyes. He wanted badly to see clearly the other's face, to be able to read his expression. Yet it seemed that somehow he _was_ able to see that sober face, as sincere as the words in his mind. "You will come again," Dalgard said with certainty. "And we shall be waiting because you, Raf Kurbi, made it possible." There was something so solemn about that that Raf looked up in surprise. "When you destroyed the core of Those Other's holding, you gave us our chance. For had you not done that we, the mermen, the other harmless, happy creatures of this world, would have been wiped out. There would be no new beginning here, only a dark and horrible end." Raf blinked; to his surprise that other figure standing in the direct sunlight did not waver, and beyond the proudly held head was a stretch of turquoise sky. He could see the color! "Yes, you shall see with your eyes--and with your mind," now Dalgard spoke aloud. "And if the Spirit which rules all space is kind, you shall return to your own people. For you have served His cause well." Then, as if he were embarrassed by his own solemnity, Dalgard ended with a most prosaic inquiry: "Would you like shellfish for eating?" Moments later, wading out into the water-swirled sand, his boots kicked off, his toes feeling for the elusive shelled creatures no one could see, Raf felt happier, freer than he could ever remember having been before. It was going to be all right. He could _see_! He would find the ship! He laughed aloud at nothing and heard an answering chuckle and then a whoop of triumph from the scout stooping to claw one of their prey out of hiding. It was after they had eaten that Dalgard asked another question, one which did not seem important to Raf. "You have a close friend among the crew of your ship?" Raf hesitated. Now that he was obliged to consider the point, did he have any friends--let alone a close one--among the crew of the _RS 10_? Certainly he did not claim Wonstead who had shared his quarters--he honestly did not care if he never saw him again. The officers, the experts such as Lablet--quickly face and character of each swept through his mind and was as swiftly discarded. There was Soriki--He could not claim the com-tech as any special friend, but at least during their period together among the aliens he had come to know him better. Now, as if Dalgard had read his mind--and he probably had, thought Raf with a flash of the old resentment--he had another question. "And what was he--is he like?" Though the pilot could see little reason for this he answered as best he could, trying to build first a physical picture of the com-tech and then doing a little guessing as to what lay under the other's space-burned skin. Dalgard lay on his back, gazing up into the blue-green sky. Yet Raf knew that he was intent on every word. A merman padded up, settled down cross-legged beside the scout, as if he too were enthralled by the pilot's halting description of a man he might never see again. Then a second of the sea people came and a third, until Raf felt that some sort of a noiseless council was in progress. His words trailed away, and then Dalgard offered an explanation. "It will take us many, many days to reach the place where your ship is. And before we are able to complete that journey your friends may be gone. So we shall try something else--with your aid." Raf fingered the little bundle of his possessions. Even his helmet with its com phone was missing. "No," again Dalgard read his mind. "Your machines are of no use to you now. We shall try _our_ way." "How?" Wild thoughts of a big signal fire--But how could that be sighted across a mountain range. Of some sort of an improvised com unit-- "I said _our_ way." There was a smile on Dalgard's face, visible to Raf's slowly clearing vision. "We shall provide another kind of machine, and these"--he waved at the mermen--"will give us the power, or so we hope. Lie here," he gestured to the sand beside him, "and think only of your friend in the ship, in his natural surroundings. Try to hold that picture constant in your mind, letting no other thought trouble it." "Do you mean--send a message to him mentally!" Raf's reply was half protest. "Did I not so reach you when we were in the city--even before I knew of you as an individual?" the scout reminded him. "And such messages are doubly possible when they are sent from friend to friend." "But we were close then." "That is why--" again Dalgard indicated the mermen. "For them this is the natural means of communication. They will pick up your reaching thought, amplify it with their power, beam it north. Since your friend deals with matters of communication, let us hope that he will be sensitive to this method." Raf was only half convinced that it might work But he remembered how Dalgard had established contact with him, before, as the scout had pointed out, they had met. It was that voiceless cry for aid which had pulled him into this adventure in the first place. It was only fitting that something of the same process give _him_ help in return. Obediently he stretched out on the sand and closed his dim eyes, trying to picture Soriki in the small cabin which held the com, slouched in his bucket seat, his deceptive posture that of a lax idler, as he had seen him so many times. Soriki--his broad face with its flat cheekbones, its wide cheerful mouth, its heavy-lidded eyes. And having fixed Soriki's face, he tried to believe that he was now confronting the com-tech, speaking directly to him. "Come--come and get me--south--seashore--Soriki come and get me!" The words formed a kind of chant, a chant aimed at that familiar face in its familiar surroundings. "South--come and get me--" Raf struggled to think only of that, to allow nothing to break through that chant or disturb his picture of the scene he had called from memory. How long that attempt at communication lasted the pilot could not tell, for somehow he slipped from the deep concentration into sleep, dreamless and untroubled, from which he awoke with the befogged feeling that something important had happened. But had he gotten through? The ring of mermen was gone, and it was dawn, gray, chill with the forewarnings of rain in the air. He was reassured because he was certain that in spite of the gloom his sight was a fraction clearer than it had been the day before. But had they gotten through? As he arose, brushing the sand from him, he saw the scout splashing out of the sea, a fish impaled on his spear. "Did we get through?" Raf blurted out. "Since your friend cannot reply with the mind touch, we do not know. But later we shall try again." To Raf's peering gaze Dalgard's face had a drawn, gaunt look as if he had been at hard labor during the hours just past. He walked up the beach slowly, without the springing step Raf had come to associate with him. As he settled down to gut the fish with one of the bone knives, the scout repeated, "We can try again--!" Half an hour later, as the rain swept in from the sea, Raf knew that they would not have to try. His head went up, his face eager. He had known that sound too long and too well ever to mistake it--the drone of a flitter motor cutting through the swish of the falling water. Some trick of the cliffs behind them must be magnifying and projecting the sound, for he could not sight the machine. But it was coming. He whirled to Dalgard, only to see that the other was on his feet and had taken up his spear. "It is the flitter! Soriki heard--they're coming!" Raf hastened to assure him. For the last time he saw Dalgard's slow, warm smile, clearer than he had ever seen it before. Then the scout turned and trotted away, toward a fringing rock wall. Before he dropped out of sight behind that barrier he raised the spear in salute. "Swift and fortunate voyaging!" He gave the farewell of Homeport. Then Raf understood. The colonist meant just what he had said: he wanted no contact with the space ship. To Raf he had owed a debt and now that was paid. But the time was not yet when the men of Astra and the men of Terra should meet. A hundred years from now perhaps--or a thousand--but not yet. And remembering what had summoned the flitter winging toward him, Raf drew a deep breath. What would the men of Astra accomplish in a hundred years? What could those of Terra do to match them in knowledge? It was a challenge, and he alone knew just how much of a challenge. Homeport must remain his own secret. He had been guided to this place, saved by the mermen alone. Dalgard and his people must not exist as far as the crew of the _RS 10_ were concerned. For the last time he experienced the intimacy of the mind touch. "That is it--brother!" Then the sensation was gone as the black blot of the flitter buzzed out of the clouds. From behind the rocks Dalgard watched the pilot enter the strange machine. For a single moment he had an impulse to shout, to run forward, to surrender to his desire to see the others, the ship which had brought them through space and would, they confidently believed, take them back to the Terra he knew only as a legend of the past. But he mastered that desire. He had been right. The road had already forked and there was no going back. He must carry this secret all the rest of his life--he must be strong-willed enough so that Homeport would never know. Time--give them time to be what they could be. Then in a hundred years--or a thousand--But not yet! * * * * * "Nobody today is telling better stories of straight-forward interstellar adventure." --_New York Herald-Tribune_ When Raf Kurbi's Terran spaceship burst into unexplored skies of the far planet Astra and was immediately made welcome by the natives of a once-mighty metropolis, Kurbi was unaware of three vital things: One was that Astra already harbored an Earth colony--descended from refugees from the world of the previous century. Two was that these men and women were facing the greatest danger of their existence from a new outburst of the inhuman fiends who had once tyrannized Astra. Three was that the natives who were buying Kurbi's science know-how were those very fiends--and their intentions were implacably deadly for all humans, whether Earth born or STAR BORN. _It's an Andre Norton space adventure--and therefore the tops in its field!_ * * * * * Quotes from the reviews: "All science-fiction fans will thrill to these new adventures created by Andre Norton.... All who enjoy a good adventure about the unknown parts of our galaxy will find this an enchanting story." --_Jackson _(_Tenn._) _Sun_ "Superb science-fiction." --_Montgomery Advertiser_ "Andre Norton adds another star to her literary laurels." --_Cleveland Press_ "A good, clearly thought-out story." --_New York Times_ "Exciting and adventure-laden." --_Library Journal_ "Suspense and excitement.... A storyteller of the first class, this is one of her best." --_Fantasy & Science Fiction_ * * * * * NOW AVAILABLE AGAIN! PERRY RHODAN 95 each #1 Enterprise Stardust Scheer & Ernsting #2 The Radiant Dome Scheer & Ernsting #3 Galactic Alarm Mahr & Shols #4 Invasion from Space Ernsting & Mahr #5 The Vega Sector Scheer & Mahr #6 Secret of the Time Vault Darlton #7 Fortress of the Six Moons Scheer #8 The Galactic Riddle Darlton #9 Quest through Space and Time Darlton #10 The Ghosts of Gol Mahr #11 Planet of the Dying Sun Mahr #12 Rebels of Tuglan Darlton #13 The Immortal Unknown Darlton #14 Venus in Danger Mahr #15 Escape To Venus Mahr #16 Secret Barrier X Shols #17 The Venus Trap Mahr #18 Menace of the Mutant Master Darlton #19 Mutants vs. Mutants Darlton #20 The Thrall of Hypno Darlton _Available wherever paperbacks an sold or use this coupon._ * * * * * ace books, (Dept. MM) Box 576, Times Square Station New York, N.Y. 10036 Please send me titles checked above. I enclose $.................. Add 25 handling fee per copy. Name.................................................... Address................................................. City...................... State............ Zip........ * * * * * ANDRE NORTON Android at Arms $1.25 Beast Master $1.25 Breed to Come $1.25 Catseye $1.25 The Crossroads Of Time $1.25 Dark Piper $1.25 Daybreak 2250 A.D. $1.25 Defiant Agents $1.25 Dragon Magic $1.25 Dread Companion $1.25 Exiles of the Stars $1.25 Eye of the Monster $1.25 Forerunner Foray $1.50 Galactic Derelict $1.25 High Sorcery $1.25 Huon of the Horn $1.25 Ice Crown $1.25 Judgment on Janus $1.25 Key Out of Time $1.25 The Last Planet $1.25 Lord of Thunder $1.25 Moon of Three Rings $1.25 Night of Masks $1.25 Operation Time Search $1.25 Ordeal In Otherwhere $1.25 _Available wherever paperbacks are sold or use this coupon._ * * * * * ace books, (Dept. MM) Box 576, Times Square Station New York. N.Y. 10036 Please send me titles checked above. I enclose $................ Add 25 handling fee per copy. Name................................................ Address.......................................... City............... State........... Zip......... * * * * * ANDRE NORTON $1.25 each Plague Ship Postmarked the Stars Quest Crosstime Sargasso of Space Sea Seige Secret of the Lost Race. Shadow Hawk The Sioux Spaceman Sorceress of Witch World Star Born Star Gate Star Guard Star Hunter & Voodoo Planet The Stars are Ours Storm Over Warlock Three Against the WitchWorld The Time Traders Uncharted Stars Victory on Janus Warlock of the Witch World Web of the Witch World Witch World The X Factor Year Of The Unicorn The Zero Stone _Available wherever paperbacks are sold or use this coupon._ * * * * * ace books, (Dept. MM) Box 576, Times Square Station New York, N.Y. 10036 Please send me titles checked above. I enclose $............... Add 25 handling fee per copy. Name................................................... Address................................................. City...................... State............ Zip........ End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Star Born, by Andre Norton *** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK STAR BORN *** ***** This file should be named 18458-8.txt or 18458-8.zip ***** This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: http://www.gutenberg.org/1/8/4/5/18458/ Produced by Jason Isbell, Greg Weeks, Sankar Viswanathan, and the Online Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions will be renamed. Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation (and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without permission and without paying copyright royalties. Special rules, set forth in the General Terms of Use part of this license, apply to copying and distributing Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works to protect the PROJECT GUTENBERG-tm concept and trademark. Project Gutenberg is a registered trademark, and may not be used if you charge for the eBooks, unless you receive specific permission. If you do not charge anything for copies of this eBook, complying with the rules is very easy. You may use this eBook for nearly any purpose such as creation of derivative works, reports, performances and research. They may be modified and printed and given away--you may do practically ANYTHING with public domain eBooks. Redistribution is subject to the trademark license, especially commercial redistribution. *** START: FULL LICENSE *** THE FULL PROJECT GUTENBERG LICENSE PLEASE READ THIS BEFORE YOU DISTRIBUTE OR USE THIS WORK To protect the Project Gutenberg-tm mission of promoting the free distribution of electronic works, by using or distributing this work (or any other work associated in any way with the phrase "Project Gutenberg"), you agree to comply with all the terms of the Full Project Gutenberg-tm License (available with this file or online at http://gutenberg.org/license). Section 1. General Terms of Use and Redistributing Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works 1.A. By reading or using any part of this Project Gutenberg-tm electronic work, you indicate that you have read, understand, agree to and accept all the terms of this license and intellectual property (trademark/copyright) agreement. If you do not agree to abide by all the terms of this agreement, you must cease using and return or destroy all copies of Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works in your possession. If you paid a fee for obtaining a copy of or access to a Project Gutenberg-tm electronic work and you do not agree to be bound by the terms of this agreement, you may obtain a refund from the person or entity to whom you paid the fee as set forth in paragraph 1.E.8. 1.B. "Project Gutenberg" is a registered trademark. It may only be used on or associated in any way with an electronic work by people who agree to be bound by the terms of this agreement. There are a few things that you can do with most Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works even without complying with the full terms of this agreement. See paragraph 1.C below. There are a lot of things you can do with Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works if you follow the terms of this agreement and help preserve free future access to Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works. See paragraph 1.E below. 1.C. The Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation ("the Foundation" or PGLAF), owns a compilation copyright in the collection of Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works. Nearly all the individual works in the collection are in the public domain in the United States. If an individual work is in the public domain in the United States and you are located in the United States, we do not claim a right to prevent you from copying, distributing, performing, displaying or creating derivative works based on the work as long as all references to Project Gutenberg are removed. Of course, we hope that you will support the Project Gutenberg-tm mission of promoting free access to electronic works by freely sharing Project Gutenberg-tm works in compliance with the terms of this agreement for keeping the Project Gutenberg-tm name associated with the work. You can easily comply with the terms of this agreement by keeping this work in the same format with its attached full Project Gutenberg-tm License when you share it without charge with others. 1.D. The copyright laws of the place where you are located also govern what you can do with this work. Copyright laws in most countries are in a constant state of change. If you are outside the United States, check the laws of your country in addition to the terms of this agreement before downloading, copying, displaying, performing, distributing or creating derivative works based on this work or any other Project Gutenberg-tm work. The Foundation makes no representations concerning the copyright status of any work in any country outside the United States. 1.E. Unless you have removed all references to Project Gutenberg: 1.E.1. The following sentence, with active links to, or other immediate access to, the full Project Gutenberg-tm License must appear prominently whenever any copy of a Project Gutenberg-tm work (any work on which the phrase "Project Gutenberg" appears, or with which the phrase "Project Gutenberg" is associated) is accessed, displayed, performed, viewed, copied or distributed: This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org 1.E.2. If an individual Project Gutenberg-tm electronic work is derived from the public domain (does not contain a notice indicating that it is posted with permission of the copyright holder), the work can be copied and distributed to anyone in the United States without paying any fees or charges. If you are redistributing or providing access to a work with the phrase "Project Gutenberg" associated with or appearing on the work, you must comply either with the requirements of paragraphs 1.E.1 through 1.E.7 or obtain permission for the use of the work and the Project Gutenberg-tm trademark as set forth in paragraphs 1.E.8 or 1.E.9. 1.E.3. If an individual Project Gutenberg-tm electronic work is posted with the permission of the copyright holder, your use and distribution must comply with both paragraphs 1.E.1 through 1.E.7 and any additional terms imposed by the copyright holder. Additional terms will be linked to the Project Gutenberg-tm License for all works posted with the permission of the copyright holder found at the beginning of this work. 1.E.4. Do not unlink or detach or remove the full Project Gutenberg-tm License terms from this work, or any files containing a part of this work or any other work associated with Project Gutenberg-tm. 1.E.5. Do not copy, display, perform, distribute or redistribute this electronic work, or any part of this electronic work, without prominently displaying the sentence set forth in paragraph 1.E.1 with active links or immediate access to the full terms of the Project Gutenberg-tm License. 1.E.6. You may convert to and distribute this work in any binary, compressed, marked up, nonproprietary or proprietary form, including any word processing or hypertext form. However, if you provide access to or distribute copies of a Project Gutenberg-tm work in a format other than "Plain Vanilla ASCII" or other format used in the official version posted on the official Project Gutenberg-tm web site (www.gutenberg.org), you must, at no additional cost, fee or expense to the user, provide a copy, a means of exporting a copy, or a means of obtaining a copy upon request, of the work in its original "Plain Vanilla ASCII" or other form. Any alternate format must include the full Project Gutenberg-tm License as specified in paragraph 1.E.1. 1.E.7. Do not charge a fee for access to, viewing, displaying, performing, copying or distributing any Project Gutenberg-tm works unless you comply with paragraph 1.E.8 or 1.E.9. 1.E.8. You may charge a reasonable fee for copies of or providing access to or distributing Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works provided that - You pay a royalty fee of 20% of the gross profits you derive from the use of Project Gutenberg-tm works calculated using the method you already use to calculate your applicable taxes. The fee is owed to the owner of the Project Gutenberg-tm trademark, but he has agreed to donate royalties under this paragraph to the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation. Royalty payments must be paid within 60 days following each date on which you prepare (or are legally required to prepare) your periodic tax returns. Royalty payments should be clearly marked as such and sent to the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation at the address specified in Section 4, "Information about donations to the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation." - You provide a full refund of any money paid by a user who notifies you in writing (or by e-mail) within 30 days of receipt that s/he does not agree to the terms of the full Project Gutenberg-tm License. You must require such a user to return or destroy all copies of the works possessed in a physical medium and discontinue all use of and all access to other copies of Project Gutenberg-tm works. - You provide, in accordance with paragraph 1.F.3, a full refund of any money paid for a work or a replacement copy, if a defect in the electronic work is discovered and reported to you within 90 days of receipt of the work. - You comply with all other terms of this agreement for free distribution of Project Gutenberg-tm works. 1.E.9. If you wish to charge a fee or distribute a Project Gutenberg-tm electronic work or group of works on different terms than are set forth in this agreement, you must obtain permission in writing from both the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation and Michael Hart, the owner of the Project Gutenberg-tm trademark. Contact the Foundation as set forth in Section 3 below. 1.F. 1.F.1. Project Gutenberg volunteers and employees expend considerable effort to identify, do copyright research on, transcribe and proofread public domain works in creating the Project Gutenberg-tm collection. Despite these efforts, Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works, and the medium on which they may be stored, may contain "Defects," such as, but not limited to, incomplete, inaccurate or corrupt data, transcription errors, a copyright or other intellectual property infringement, a defective or damaged disk or other medium, a computer virus, or computer codes that damage or cannot be read by your equipment. 1.F.2. LIMITED WARRANTY, DISCLAIMER OF DAMAGES - Except for the "Right of Replacement or Refund" described in paragraph 1.F.3, the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation, the owner of the Project Gutenberg-tm trademark, and any other party distributing a Project Gutenberg-tm electronic work under this agreement, disclaim all liability to you for damages, costs and expenses, including legal fees. YOU AGREE THAT YOU HAVE NO REMEDIES FOR NEGLIGENCE, STRICT LIABILITY, BREACH OF WARRANTY OR BREACH OF CONTRACT EXCEPT THOSE PROVIDED IN PARAGRAPH F3. YOU AGREE THAT THE FOUNDATION, THE TRADEMARK OWNER, AND ANY DISTRIBUTOR UNDER THIS AGREEMENT WILL NOT BE LIABLE TO YOU FOR ACTUAL, DIRECT, INDIRECT, CONSEQUENTIAL, PUNITIVE OR INCIDENTAL DAMAGES EVEN IF YOU GIVE NOTICE OF THE POSSIBILITY OF SUCH DAMAGE. 1.F.3. LIMITED RIGHT OF REPLACEMENT OR REFUND - If you discover a defect in this electronic work within 90 days of receiving it, you can receive a refund of the money (if any) you paid for it by sending a written explanation to the person you received the work from. If you received the work on a physical medium, you must return the medium with your written explanation. The person or entity that provided you with the defective work may elect to provide a replacement copy in lieu of a refund. If you received the work electronically, the person or entity providing it to you may choose to give you a second opportunity to receive the work electronically in lieu of a refund. If the second copy is also defective, you may demand a refund in writing without further opportunities to fix the problem. 1.F.4. Except for the limited right of replacement or refund set forth in paragraph 1.F.3, this work is provided to you 'AS-IS' WITH NO OTHER WARRANTIES OF ANY KIND, EXPRESS OR IMPLIED, INCLUDING BUT NOT LIMITED TO WARRANTIES OF MERCHANTIBILITY OR FITNESS FOR ANY PURPOSE. 1.F.5. Some states do not allow disclaimers of certain implied warranties or the exclusion or limitation of certain types of damages. If any disclaimer or limitation set forth in this agreement violates the law of the state applicable to this agreement, the agreement shall be interpreted to make the maximum disclaimer or limitation permitted by the applicable state law. The invalidity or unenforceability of any provision of this agreement shall not void the remaining provisions. 1.F.6. INDEMNITY - You agree to indemnify and hold the Foundation, the trademark owner, any agent or employee of the Foundation, anyone providing copies of Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works in accordance with this agreement, and any volunteers associated with the production, promotion and distribution of Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works, harmless from all liability, costs and expenses, including legal fees, that arise directly or indirectly from any of the following which you do or cause to occur: (a) distribution of this or any Project Gutenberg-tm work, (b) alteration, modification, or additions or deletions to any Project Gutenberg-tm work, and (c) any Defect you cause. Section 2. Information about the Mission of Project Gutenberg-tm Project Gutenberg-tm is synonymous with the free distribution of electronic works in formats readable by the widest variety of computers including obsolete, old, middle-aged and new computers. It exists because of the efforts of hundreds of volunteers and donations from people in all walks of life. Volunteers and financial support to provide volunteers with the assistance they need, is critical to reaching Project Gutenberg-tm's goals and ensuring that the Project Gutenberg-tm collection will remain freely available for generations to come. In 2001, the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation was created to provide a secure and permanent future for Project Gutenberg-tm and future generations. To learn more about the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation and how your efforts and donations can help, see Sections 3 and 4 and the Foundation web page at http://www.pglaf.org. Section 3. Information about the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation The Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation is a non profit 501(c)(3) educational corporation organized under the laws of the state of Mississippi and granted tax exempt status by the Internal Revenue Service. The Foundation's EIN or federal tax identification number is 64-6221541. Its 501(c)(3) letter is posted at http://pglaf.org/fundraising. Contributions to the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation are tax deductible to the full extent permitted by U.S. federal laws and your state's laws. The Foundation's principal office is located at 4557 Melan Dr. S. Fairbanks, AK, 99712., but its volunteers and employees are scattered throughout numerous locations. Its business office is located at 809 North 1500 West, Salt Lake City, UT 84116, (801) 596-1887, email [email protected]. Email contact links and up to date contact information can be found at the Foundation's web site and official page at http://pglaf.org For additional contact information: Dr. Gregory B. Newby

men

How many times the word 'men' appears in the text?

you to understand. No, your knowledge is not corrupt, it would not carry with it the same seeds of disaster as that of Those Others. But it would be too easy for us to accept, to walk a softer road, to forget what we have so far won. Just give us time--" Raf cupped his palms over his watering eyes. He wanted badly to see clearly the other's face, to be able to read his expression. Yet it seemed that somehow he _was_ able to see that sober face, as sincere as the words in his mind. "You will come again," Dalgard said with certainty. "And we shall be waiting because you, Raf Kurbi, made it possible." There was something so solemn about that that Raf looked up in surprise. "When you destroyed the core of Those Other's holding, you gave us our chance. For had you not done that we, the mermen, the other harmless, happy creatures of this world, would have been wiped out. There would be no new beginning here, only a dark and horrible end." Raf blinked; to his surprise that other figure standing in the direct sunlight did not waver, and beyond the proudly held head was a stretch of turquoise sky. He could see the color! "Yes, you shall see with your eyes--and with your mind," now Dalgard spoke aloud. "And if the Spirit which rules all space is kind, you shall return to your own people. For you have served His cause well." Then, as if he were embarrassed by his own solemnity, Dalgard ended with a most prosaic inquiry: "Would you like shellfish for eating?" Moments later, wading out into the water-swirled sand, his boots kicked off, his toes feeling for the elusive shelled creatures no one could see, Raf felt happier, freer than he could ever remember having been before. It was going to be all right. He could _see_! He would find the ship! He laughed aloud at nothing and heard an answering chuckle and then a whoop of triumph from the scout stooping to claw one of their prey out of hiding. It was after they had eaten that Dalgard asked another question, one which did not seem important to Raf. "You have a close friend among the crew of your ship?" Raf hesitated. Now that he was obliged to consider the point, did he have any friends--let alone a close one--among the crew of the _RS 10_? Certainly he did not claim Wonstead who had shared his quarters--he honestly did not care if he never saw him again. The officers, the experts such as Lablet--quickly face and character of each swept through his mind and was as swiftly discarded. There was Soriki--He could not claim the com-tech as any special friend, but at least during their period together among the aliens he had come to know him better. Now, as if Dalgard had read his mind--and he probably had, thought Raf with a flash of the old resentment--he had another question. "And what was he--is he like?" Though the pilot could see little reason for this he answered as best he could, trying to build first a physical picture of the com-tech and then doing a little guessing as to what lay under the other's space-burned skin. Dalgard lay on his back, gazing up into the blue-green sky. Yet Raf knew that he was intent on every word. A merman padded up, settled down cross-legged beside the scout, as if he too were enthralled by the pilot's halting description of a man he might never see again. Then a second of the sea people came and a third, until Raf felt that some sort of a noiseless council was in progress. His words trailed away, and then Dalgard offered an explanation. "It will take us many, many days to reach the place where your ship is. And before we are able to complete that journey your friends may be gone. So we shall try something else--with your aid." Raf fingered the little bundle of his possessions. Even his helmet with its com phone was missing. "No," again Dalgard read his mind. "Your machines are of no use to you now. We shall try _our_ way." "How?" Wild thoughts of a big signal fire--But how could that be sighted across a mountain range. Of some sort of an improvised com unit-- "I said _our_ way." There was a smile on Dalgard's face, visible to Raf's slowly clearing vision. "We shall provide another kind of machine, and these"--he waved at the mermen--"will give us the power, or so we hope. Lie here," he gestured to the sand beside him, "and think only of your friend in the ship, in his natural surroundings. Try to hold that picture constant in your mind, letting no other thought trouble it." "Do you mean--send a message to him mentally!" Raf's reply was half protest. "Did I not so reach you when we were in the city--even before I knew of you as an individual?" the scout reminded him. "And such messages are doubly possible when they are sent from friend to friend." "But we were close then." "That is why--" again Dalgard indicated the mermen. "For them this is the natural means of communication. They will pick up your reaching thought, amplify it with their power, beam it north. Since your friend deals with matters of communication, let us hope that he will be sensitive to this method." Raf was only half convinced that it might work But he remembered how Dalgard had established contact with him, before, as the scout had pointed out, they had met. It was that voiceless cry for aid which had pulled him into this adventure in the first place. It was only fitting that something of the same process give _him_ help in return. Obediently he stretched out on the sand and closed his dim eyes, trying to picture Soriki in the small cabin which held the com, slouched in his bucket seat, his deceptive posture that of a lax idler, as he had seen him so many times. Soriki--his broad face with its flat cheekbones, its wide cheerful mouth, its heavy-lidded eyes. And having fixed Soriki's face, he tried to believe that he was now confronting the com-tech, speaking directly to him. "Come--come and get me--south--seashore--Soriki come and get me!" The words formed a kind of chant, a chant aimed at that familiar face in its familiar surroundings. "South--come and get me--" Raf struggled to think only of that, to allow nothing to break through that chant or disturb his picture of the scene he had called from memory. How long that attempt at communication lasted the pilot could not tell, for somehow he slipped from the deep concentration into sleep, dreamless and untroubled, from which he awoke with the befogged feeling that something important had happened. But had he gotten through? The ring of mermen was gone, and it was dawn, gray, chill with the forewarnings of rain in the air. He was reassured because he was certain that in spite of the gloom his sight was a fraction clearer than it had been the day before. But had they gotten through? As he arose, brushing the sand from him, he saw the scout splashing out of the sea, a fish impaled on his spear. "Did we get through?" Raf blurted out. "Since your friend cannot reply with the mind touch, we do not know. But later we shall try again." To Raf's peering gaze Dalgard's face had a drawn, gaunt look as if he had been at hard labor during the hours just past. He walked up the beach slowly, without the springing step Raf had come to associate with him. As he settled down to gut the fish with one of the bone knives, the scout repeated, "We can try again--!" Half an hour later, as the rain swept in from the sea, Raf knew that they would not have to try. His head went up, his face eager. He had known that sound too long and too well ever to mistake it--the drone of a flitter motor cutting through the swish of the falling water. Some trick of the cliffs behind them must be magnifying and projecting the sound, for he could not sight the machine. But it was coming. He whirled to Dalgard, only to see that the other was on his feet and had taken up his spear. "It is the flitter! Soriki heard--they're coming!" Raf hastened to assure him. For the last time he saw Dalgard's slow, warm smile, clearer than he had ever seen it before. Then the scout turned and trotted away, toward a fringing rock wall. Before he dropped out of sight behind that barrier he raised the spear in salute. "Swift and fortunate voyaging!" He gave the farewell of Homeport. Then Raf understood. The colonist meant just what he had said: he wanted no contact with the space ship. To Raf he had owed a debt and now that was paid. But the time was not yet when the men of Astra and the men of Terra should meet. A hundred years from now perhaps--or a thousand--but not yet. And remembering what had summoned the flitter winging toward him, Raf drew a deep breath. What would the men of Astra accomplish in a hundred years? What could those of Terra do to match them in knowledge? It was a challenge, and he alone knew just how much of a challenge. Homeport must remain his own secret. He had been guided to this place, saved by the mermen alone. Dalgard and his people must not exist as far as the crew of the _RS 10_ were concerned. For the last time he experienced the intimacy of the mind touch. "That is it--brother!" Then the sensation was gone as the black blot of the flitter buzzed out of the clouds. From behind the rocks Dalgard watched the pilot enter the strange machine. For a single moment he had an impulse to shout, to run forward, to surrender to his desire to see the others, the ship which had brought them through space and would, they confidently believed, take them back to the Terra he knew only as a legend of the past. But he mastered that desire. He had been right. The road had already forked and there was no going back. He must carry this secret all the rest of his life--he must be strong-willed enough so that Homeport would never know. Time--give them time to be what they could be. Then in a hundred years--or a thousand--But not yet! * * * * * "Nobody today is telling better stories of straight-forward interstellar adventure." --_New York Herald-Tribune_ When Raf Kurbi's Terran spaceship burst into unexplored skies of the far planet Astra and was immediately made welcome by the natives of a once-mighty metropolis, Kurbi was unaware of three vital things: One was that Astra already harbored an Earth colony--descended from refugees from the world of the previous century. Two was that these men and women were facing the greatest danger of their existence from a new outburst of the inhuman fiends who had once tyrannized Astra. Three was that the natives who were buying Kurbi's science know-how were those very fiends--and their intentions were implacably deadly for all humans, whether Earth born or STAR BORN. _It's an Andre Norton space adventure--and therefore the tops in its field!_ * * * * * Quotes from the reviews: "All science-fiction fans will thrill to these new adventures created by Andre Norton.... All who enjoy a good adventure about the unknown parts of our galaxy will find this an enchanting story." --_Jackson _(_Tenn._) _Sun_ "Superb science-fiction." --_Montgomery Advertiser_ "Andre Norton adds another star to her literary laurels." --_Cleveland Press_ "A good, clearly thought-out story." --_New York Times_ "Exciting and adventure-laden." --_Library Journal_ "Suspense and excitement.... A storyteller of the first class, this is one of her best." --_Fantasy & Science Fiction_ * * * * * NOW AVAILABLE AGAIN! PERRY RHODAN 95 each #1 Enterprise Stardust Scheer & Ernsting #2 The Radiant Dome Scheer & Ernsting #3 Galactic Alarm Mahr & Shols #4 Invasion from Space Ernsting & Mahr #5 The Vega Sector Scheer & Mahr #6 Secret of the Time Vault Darlton #7 Fortress of the Six Moons Scheer #8 The Galactic Riddle Darlton #9 Quest through Space and Time Darlton #10 The Ghosts of Gol Mahr #11 Planet of the Dying Sun Mahr #12 Rebels of Tuglan Darlton #13 The Immortal Unknown Darlton #14 Venus in Danger Mahr #15 Escape To Venus Mahr #16 Secret Barrier X Shols #17 The Venus Trap Mahr #18 Menace of the Mutant Master Darlton #19 Mutants vs. Mutants Darlton #20 The Thrall of Hypno Darlton _Available wherever paperbacks an sold or use this coupon._ * * * * * ace books, (Dept. MM) Box 576, Times Square Station New York, N.Y. 10036 Please send me titles checked above. I enclose $.................. Add 25 handling fee per copy. Name.................................................... Address................................................. City...................... State............ Zip........ * * * * * ANDRE NORTON Android at Arms $1.25 Beast Master $1.25 Breed to Come $1.25 Catseye $1.25 The Crossroads Of Time $1.25 Dark Piper $1.25 Daybreak 2250 A.D. $1.25 Defiant Agents $1.25 Dragon Magic $1.25 Dread Companion $1.25 Exiles of the Stars $1.25 Eye of the Monster $1.25 Forerunner Foray $1.50 Galactic Derelict $1.25 High Sorcery $1.25 Huon of the Horn $1.25 Ice Crown $1.25 Judgment on Janus $1.25 Key Out of Time $1.25 The Last Planet $1.25 Lord of Thunder $1.25 Moon of Three Rings $1.25 Night of Masks $1.25 Operation Time Search $1.25 Ordeal In Otherwhere $1.25 _Available wherever paperbacks are sold or use this coupon._ * * * * * ace books, (Dept. MM) Box 576, Times Square Station New York. N.Y. 10036 Please send me titles checked above. I enclose $................ Add 25 handling fee per copy. Name................................................ Address.......................................... City............... State........... Zip......... * * * * * ANDRE NORTON $1.25 each Plague Ship Postmarked the Stars Quest Crosstime Sargasso of Space Sea Seige Secret of the Lost Race. Shadow Hawk The Sioux Spaceman Sorceress of Witch World Star Born Star Gate Star Guard Star Hunter & Voodoo Planet The Stars are Ours Storm Over Warlock Three Against the WitchWorld The Time Traders Uncharted Stars Victory on Janus Warlock of the Witch World Web of the Witch World Witch World The X Factor Year Of The Unicorn The Zero Stone _Available wherever paperbacks are sold or use this coupon._ * * * * * ace books, (Dept. MM) Box 576, Times Square Station New York, N.Y. 10036 Please send me titles checked above. I enclose $............... Add 25 handling fee per copy. Name................................................... Address................................................. City...................... State............ Zip........ End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Star Born, by Andre Norton *** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK STAR BORN *** ***** This file should be named 18458-8.txt or 18458-8.zip ***** This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: http://www.gutenberg.org/1/8/4/5/18458/ Produced by Jason Isbell, Greg Weeks, Sankar Viswanathan, and the Online Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions will be renamed. Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation (and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without permission and without paying copyright royalties. Special rules, set forth in the General Terms of Use part of this license, apply to copying and distributing Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works to protect the PROJECT GUTENBERG-tm concept and trademark. Project Gutenberg is a registered trademark, and may not be used if you charge for the eBooks, unless you receive specific permission. If you do not charge anything for copies of this eBook, complying with the rules is very easy. You may use this eBook for nearly any purpose such as creation of derivative works, reports, performances and research. They may be modified and printed and given away--you may do practically ANYTHING with public domain eBooks. Redistribution is subject to the trademark license, especially commercial redistribution. *** START: FULL LICENSE *** THE FULL PROJECT GUTENBERG LICENSE PLEASE READ THIS BEFORE YOU DISTRIBUTE OR USE THIS WORK To protect the Project Gutenberg-tm mission of promoting the free distribution of electronic works, by using or distributing this work (or any other work associated in any way with the phrase "Project Gutenberg"), you agree to comply with all the terms of the Full Project Gutenberg-tm License (available with this file or online at http://gutenberg.org/license). Section 1. General Terms of Use and Redistributing Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works 1.A. By reading or using any part of this Project Gutenberg-tm electronic work, you indicate that you have read, understand, agree to and accept all the terms of this license and intellectual property (trademark/copyright) agreement. If you do not agree to abide by all the terms of this agreement, you must cease using and return or destroy all copies of Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works in your possession. If you paid a fee for obtaining a copy of or access to a Project Gutenberg-tm electronic work and you do not agree to be bound by the terms of this agreement, you may obtain a refund from the person or entity to whom you paid the fee as set forth in paragraph 1.E.8. 1.B. "Project Gutenberg" is a registered trademark. It may only be used on or associated in any way with an electronic work by people who agree to be bound by the terms of this agreement. There are a few things that you can do with most Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works even without complying with the full terms of this agreement. See paragraph 1.C below. There are a lot of things you can do with Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works if you follow the terms of this agreement and help preserve free future access to Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works. See paragraph 1.E below. 1.C. The Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation ("the Foundation" or PGLAF), owns a compilation copyright in the collection of Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works. Nearly all the individual works in the collection are in the public domain in the United States. If an individual work is in the public domain in the United States and you are located in the United States, we do not claim a right to prevent you from copying, distributing, performing, displaying or creating derivative works based on the work as long as all references to Project Gutenberg are removed. Of course, we hope that you will support the Project Gutenberg-tm mission of promoting free access to electronic works by freely sharing Project Gutenberg-tm works in compliance with the terms of this agreement for keeping the Project Gutenberg-tm name associated with the work. You can easily comply with the terms of this agreement by keeping this work in the same format with its attached full Project Gutenberg-tm License when you share it without charge with others. 1.D. The copyright laws of the place where you are located also govern what you can do with this work. Copyright laws in most countries are in a constant state of change. If you are outside the United States, check the laws of your country in addition to the terms of this agreement before downloading, copying, displaying, performing, distributing or creating derivative works based on this work or any other Project Gutenberg-tm work. The Foundation makes no representations concerning the copyright status of any work in any country outside the United States. 1.E. Unless you have removed all references to Project Gutenberg: 1.E.1. The following sentence, with active links to, or other immediate access to, the full Project Gutenberg-tm License must appear prominently whenever any copy of a Project Gutenberg-tm work (any work on which the phrase "Project Gutenberg" appears, or with which the phrase "Project Gutenberg" is associated) is accessed, displayed, performed, viewed, copied or distributed: This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org 1.E.2. If an individual Project Gutenberg-tm electronic work is derived from the public domain (does not contain a notice indicating that it is posted with permission of the copyright holder), the work can be copied and distributed to anyone in the United States without paying any fees or charges. If you are redistributing or providing access to a work with the phrase "Project Gutenberg" associated with or appearing on the work, you must comply either with the requirements of paragraphs 1.E.1 through 1.E.7 or obtain permission for the use of the work and the Project Gutenberg-tm trademark as set forth in paragraphs 1.E.8 or 1.E.9. 1.E.3. If an individual Project Gutenberg-tm electronic work is posted with the permission of the copyright holder, your use and distribution must comply with both paragraphs 1.E.1 through 1.E.7 and any additional terms imposed by the copyright holder. Additional terms will be linked to the Project Gutenberg-tm License for all works posted with the permission of the copyright holder found at the beginning of this work. 1.E.4. Do not unlink or detach or remove the full Project Gutenberg-tm License terms from this work, or any files containing a part of this work or any other work associated with Project Gutenberg-tm. 1.E.5. Do not copy, display, perform, distribute or redistribute this electronic work, or any part of this electronic work, without prominently displaying the sentence set forth in paragraph 1.E.1 with active links or immediate access to the full terms of the Project Gutenberg-tm License. 1.E.6. You may convert to and distribute this work in any binary, compressed, marked up, nonproprietary or proprietary form, including any word processing or hypertext form. However, if you provide access to or distribute copies of a Project Gutenberg-tm work in a format other than "Plain Vanilla ASCII" or other format used in the official version posted on the official Project Gutenberg-tm web site (www.gutenberg.org), you must, at no additional cost, fee or expense to the user, provide a copy, a means of exporting a copy, or a means of obtaining a copy upon request, of the work in its original "Plain Vanilla ASCII" or other form. Any alternate format must include the full Project Gutenberg-tm License as specified in paragraph 1.E.1. 1.E.7. Do not charge a fee for access to, viewing, displaying, performing, copying or distributing any Project Gutenberg-tm works unless you comply with paragraph 1.E.8 or 1.E.9. 1.E.8. You may charge a reasonable fee for copies of or providing access to or distributing Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works provided that - You pay a royalty fee of 20% of the gross profits you derive from the use of Project Gutenberg-tm works calculated using the method you already use to calculate your applicable taxes. The fee is owed to the owner of the Project Gutenberg-tm trademark, but he has agreed to donate royalties under this paragraph to the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation. Royalty payments must be paid within 60 days following each date on which you prepare (or are legally required to prepare) your periodic tax returns. Royalty payments should be clearly marked as such and sent to the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation at the address specified in Section 4, "Information about donations to the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation." - You provide a full refund of any money paid by a user who notifies you in writing (or by e-mail) within 30 days of receipt that s/he does not agree to the terms of the full Project Gutenberg-tm License. You must require such a user to return or destroy all copies of the works possessed in a physical medium and discontinue all use of and all access to other copies of Project Gutenberg-tm works. - You provide, in accordance with paragraph 1.F.3, a full refund of any money paid for a work or a replacement copy, if a defect in the electronic work is discovered and reported to you within 90 days of receipt of the work. - You comply with all other terms of this agreement for free distribution of Project Gutenberg-tm works. 1.E.9. If you wish to charge a fee or distribute a Project Gutenberg-tm electronic work or group of works on different terms than are set forth in this agreement, you must obtain permission in writing from both the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation and Michael Hart, the owner of the Project Gutenberg-tm trademark. Contact the Foundation as set forth in Section 3 below. 1.F. 1.F.1. Project Gutenberg volunteers and employees expend considerable effort to identify, do copyright research on, transcribe and proofread public domain works in creating the Project Gutenberg-tm collection. Despite these efforts, Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works, and the medium on which they may be stored, may contain "Defects," such as, but not limited to, incomplete, inaccurate or corrupt data, transcription errors, a copyright or other intellectual property infringement, a defective or damaged disk or other medium, a computer virus, or computer codes that damage or cannot be read by your equipment. 1.F.2. LIMITED WARRANTY, DISCLAIMER OF DAMAGES - Except for the "Right of Replacement or Refund" described in paragraph 1.F.3, the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation, the owner of the Project Gutenberg-tm trademark, and any other party distributing a Project Gutenberg-tm electronic work under this agreement, disclaim all liability to you for damages, costs and expenses, including legal fees. YOU AGREE THAT YOU HAVE NO REMEDIES FOR NEGLIGENCE, STRICT LIABILITY, BREACH OF WARRANTY OR BREACH OF CONTRACT EXCEPT THOSE PROVIDED IN PARAGRAPH F3. YOU AGREE THAT THE FOUNDATION, THE TRADEMARK OWNER, AND ANY DISTRIBUTOR UNDER THIS AGREEMENT WILL NOT BE LIABLE TO YOU FOR ACTUAL, DIRECT, INDIRECT, CONSEQUENTIAL, PUNITIVE OR INCIDENTAL DAMAGES EVEN IF YOU GIVE NOTICE OF THE POSSIBILITY OF SUCH DAMAGE. 1.F.3. LIMITED RIGHT OF REPLACEMENT OR REFUND - If you discover a defect in this electronic work within 90 days of receiving it, you can receive a refund of the money (if any) you paid for it by sending a written explanation to the person you received the work from. If you received the work on a physical medium, you must return the medium with your written explanation. The person or entity that provided you with the defective work may elect to provide a replacement copy in lieu of a refund. If you received the work electronically, the person or entity providing it to you may choose to give you a second opportunity to receive the work electronically in lieu of a refund. If the second copy is also defective, you may demand a refund in writing without further opportunities to fix the problem. 1.F.4. Except for the limited right of replacement or refund set forth in paragraph 1.F.3, this work is provided to you 'AS-IS' WITH NO OTHER WARRANTIES OF ANY KIND, EXPRESS OR IMPLIED, INCLUDING BUT NOT LIMITED TO WARRANTIES OF MERCHANTIBILITY OR FITNESS FOR ANY PURPOSE. 1.F.5. Some states do not allow disclaimers of certain implied warranties or the exclusion or limitation of certain types of damages. If any disclaimer or limitation set forth in this agreement violates the law of the state applicable to this agreement, the agreement shall be interpreted to make the maximum disclaimer or limitation permitted by the applicable state law. The invalidity or unenforceability of any provision of this agreement shall not void the remaining provisions. 1.F.6. INDEMNITY - You agree to indemnify and hold the Foundation, the trademark owner, any agent or employee of the Foundation, anyone providing copies of Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works in accordance with this agreement, and any volunteers associated with the production, promotion and distribution of Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works, harmless from all liability, costs and expenses, including legal fees, that arise directly or indirectly from any of the following which you do or cause to occur: (a) distribution of this or any Project Gutenberg-tm work, (b) alteration, modification, or additions or deletions to any Project Gutenberg-tm work, and (c) any Defect you cause. Section 2. Information about the Mission of Project Gutenberg-tm Project Gutenberg-tm is synonymous with the free distribution of electronic works in formats readable by the widest variety of computers including obsolete, old, middle-aged and new computers. It exists because of the efforts of hundreds of volunteers and donations from people in all walks of life. Volunteers and financial support to provide volunteers with the assistance they need, is critical to reaching Project Gutenberg-tm's goals and ensuring that the Project Gutenberg-tm collection will remain freely available for generations to come. In 2001, the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation was created to provide a secure and permanent future for Project Gutenberg-tm and future generations. To learn more about the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation and how your efforts and donations can help, see Sections 3 and 4 and the Foundation web page at http://www.pglaf.org. Section 3. Information about the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation The Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation is a non profit 501(c)(3) educational corporation organized under the laws of the state of Mississippi and granted tax exempt status by the Internal Revenue Service. The Foundation's EIN or federal tax identification number is 64-6221541. Its 501(c)(3) letter is posted at http://pglaf.org/fundraising. Contributions to the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation are tax deductible to the full extent permitted by U.S. federal laws and your state's laws. The Foundation's principal office is located at 4557 Melan Dr. S. Fairbanks, AK, 99712., but its volunteers and employees are scattered throughout numerous locations. Its business office is located at 809 North 1500 West, Salt Lake City, UT 84116, (801) 596-1887, email [email protected]. Email contact links and up to date contact information can be found at the Foundation's web site and official page at http://pglaf.org For additional contact information: Dr. Gregory B. Newby

circumstances

How many times the word 'circumstances' appears in the text?

you to understand. No, your knowledge is not corrupt, it would not carry with it the same seeds of disaster as that of Those Others. But it would be too easy for us to accept, to walk a softer road, to forget what we have so far won. Just give us time--" Raf cupped his palms over his watering eyes. He wanted badly to see clearly the other's face, to be able to read his expression. Yet it seemed that somehow he _was_ able to see that sober face, as sincere as the words in his mind. "You will come again," Dalgard said with certainty. "And we shall be waiting because you, Raf Kurbi, made it possible." There was something so solemn about that that Raf looked up in surprise. "When you destroyed the core of Those Other's holding, you gave us our chance. For had you not done that we, the mermen, the other harmless, happy creatures of this world, would have been wiped out. There would be no new beginning here, only a dark and horrible end." Raf blinked; to his surprise that other figure standing in the direct sunlight did not waver, and beyond the proudly held head was a stretch of turquoise sky. He could see the color! "Yes, you shall see with your eyes--and with your mind," now Dalgard spoke aloud. "And if the Spirit which rules all space is kind, you shall return to your own people. For you have served His cause well." Then, as if he were embarrassed by his own solemnity, Dalgard ended with a most prosaic inquiry: "Would you like shellfish for eating?" Moments later, wading out into the water-swirled sand, his boots kicked off, his toes feeling for the elusive shelled creatures no one could see, Raf felt happier, freer than he could ever remember having been before. It was going to be all right. He could _see_! He would find the ship! He laughed aloud at nothing and heard an answering chuckle and then a whoop of triumph from the scout stooping to claw one of their prey out of hiding. It was after they had eaten that Dalgard asked another question, one which did not seem important to Raf. "You have a close friend among the crew of your ship?" Raf hesitated. Now that he was obliged to consider the point, did he have any friends--let alone a close one--among the crew of the _RS 10_? Certainly he did not claim Wonstead who had shared his quarters--he honestly did not care if he never saw him again. The officers, the experts such as Lablet--quickly face and character of each swept through his mind and was as swiftly discarded. There was Soriki--He could not claim the com-tech as any special friend, but at least during their period together among the aliens he had come to know him better. Now, as if Dalgard had read his mind--and he probably had, thought Raf with a flash of the old resentment--he had another question. "And what was he--is he like?" Though the pilot could see little reason for this he answered as best he could, trying to build first a physical picture of the com-tech and then doing a little guessing as to what lay under the other's space-burned skin. Dalgard lay on his back, gazing up into the blue-green sky. Yet Raf knew that he was intent on every word. A merman padded up, settled down cross-legged beside the scout, as if he too were enthralled by the pilot's halting description of a man he might never see again. Then a second of the sea people came and a third, until Raf felt that some sort of a noiseless council was in progress. His words trailed away, and then Dalgard offered an explanation. "It will take us many, many days to reach the place where your ship is. And before we are able to complete that journey your friends may be gone. So we shall try something else--with your aid." Raf fingered the little bundle of his possessions. Even his helmet with its com phone was missing. "No," again Dalgard read his mind. "Your machines are of no use to you now. We shall try _our_ way." "How?" Wild thoughts of a big signal fire--But how could that be sighted across a mountain range. Of some sort of an improvised com unit-- "I said _our_ way." There was a smile on Dalgard's face, visible to Raf's slowly clearing vision. "We shall provide another kind of machine, and these"--he waved at the mermen--"will give us the power, or so we hope. Lie here," he gestured to the sand beside him, "and think only of your friend in the ship, in his natural surroundings. Try to hold that picture constant in your mind, letting no other thought trouble it." "Do you mean--send a message to him mentally!" Raf's reply was half protest. "Did I not so reach you when we were in the city--even before I knew of you as an individual?" the scout reminded him. "And such messages are doubly possible when they are sent from friend to friend." "But we were close then." "That is why--" again Dalgard indicated the mermen. "For them this is the natural means of communication. They will pick up your reaching thought, amplify it with their power, beam it north. Since your friend deals with matters of communication, let us hope that he will be sensitive to this method." Raf was only half convinced that it might work But he remembered how Dalgard had established contact with him, before, as the scout had pointed out, they had met. It was that voiceless cry for aid which had pulled him into this adventure in the first place. It was only fitting that something of the same process give _him_ help in return. Obediently he stretched out on the sand and closed his dim eyes, trying to picture Soriki in the small cabin which held the com, slouched in his bucket seat, his deceptive posture that of a lax idler, as he had seen him so many times. Soriki--his broad face with its flat cheekbones, its wide cheerful mouth, its heavy-lidded eyes. And having fixed Soriki's face, he tried to believe that he was now confronting the com-tech, speaking directly to him. "Come--come and get me--south--seashore--Soriki come and get me!" The words formed a kind of chant, a chant aimed at that familiar face in its familiar surroundings. "South--come and get me--" Raf struggled to think only of that, to allow nothing to break through that chant or disturb his picture of the scene he had called from memory. How long that attempt at communication lasted the pilot could not tell, for somehow he slipped from the deep concentration into sleep, dreamless and untroubled, from which he awoke with the befogged feeling that something important had happened. But had he gotten through? The ring of mermen was gone, and it was dawn, gray, chill with the forewarnings of rain in the air. He was reassured because he was certain that in spite of the gloom his sight was a fraction clearer than it had been the day before. But had they gotten through? As he arose, brushing the sand from him, he saw the scout splashing out of the sea, a fish impaled on his spear. "Did we get through?" Raf blurted out. "Since your friend cannot reply with the mind touch, we do not know. But later we shall try again." To Raf's peering gaze Dalgard's face had a drawn, gaunt look as if he had been at hard labor during the hours just past. He walked up the beach slowly, without the springing step Raf had come to associate with him. As he settled down to gut the fish with one of the bone knives, the scout repeated, "We can try again--!" Half an hour later, as the rain swept in from the sea, Raf knew that they would not have to try. His head went up, his face eager. He had known that sound too long and too well ever to mistake it--the drone of a flitter motor cutting through the swish of the falling water. Some trick of the cliffs behind them must be magnifying and projecting the sound, for he could not sight the machine. But it was coming. He whirled to Dalgard, only to see that the other was on his feet and had taken up his spear. "It is the flitter! Soriki heard--they're coming!" Raf hastened to assure him. For the last time he saw Dalgard's slow, warm smile, clearer than he had ever seen it before. Then the scout turned and trotted away, toward a fringing rock wall. Before he dropped out of sight behind that barrier he raised the spear in salute. "Swift and fortunate voyaging!" He gave the farewell of Homeport. Then Raf understood. The colonist meant just what he had said: he wanted no contact with the space ship. To Raf he had owed a debt and now that was paid. But the time was not yet when the men of Astra and the men of Terra should meet. A hundred years from now perhaps--or a thousand--but not yet. And remembering what had summoned the flitter winging toward him, Raf drew a deep breath. What would the men of Astra accomplish in a hundred years? What could those of Terra do to match them in knowledge? It was a challenge, and he alone knew just how much of a challenge. Homeport must remain his own secret. He had been guided to this place, saved by the mermen alone. Dalgard and his people must not exist as far as the crew of the _RS 10_ were concerned. For the last time he experienced the intimacy of the mind touch. "That is it--brother!" Then the sensation was gone as the black blot of the flitter buzzed out of the clouds. From behind the rocks Dalgard watched the pilot enter the strange machine. For a single moment he had an impulse to shout, to run forward, to surrender to his desire to see the others, the ship which had brought them through space and would, they confidently believed, take them back to the Terra he knew only as a legend of the past. But he mastered that desire. He had been right. The road had already forked and there was no going back. He must carry this secret all the rest of his life--he must be strong-willed enough so that Homeport would never know. Time--give them time to be what they could be. Then in a hundred years--or a thousand--But not yet! * * * * * "Nobody today is telling better stories of straight-forward interstellar adventure." --_New York Herald-Tribune_ When Raf Kurbi's Terran spaceship burst into unexplored skies of the far planet Astra and was immediately made welcome by the natives of a once-mighty metropolis, Kurbi was unaware of three vital things: One was that Astra already harbored an Earth colony--descended from refugees from the world of the previous century. Two was that these men and women were facing the greatest danger of their existence from a new outburst of the inhuman fiends who had once tyrannized Astra. Three was that the natives who were buying Kurbi's science know-how were those very fiends--and their intentions were implacably deadly for all humans, whether Earth born or STAR BORN. _It's an Andre Norton space adventure--and therefore the tops in its field!_ * * * * * Quotes from the reviews: "All science-fiction fans will thrill to these new adventures created by Andre Norton.... All who enjoy a good adventure about the unknown parts of our galaxy will find this an enchanting story." --_Jackson _(_Tenn._) _Sun_ "Superb science-fiction." --_Montgomery Advertiser_ "Andre Norton adds another star to her literary laurels." --_Cleveland Press_ "A good, clearly thought-out story." --_New York Times_ "Exciting and adventure-laden." --_Library Journal_ "Suspense and excitement.... A storyteller of the first class, this is one of her best." --_Fantasy & Science Fiction_ * * * * * NOW AVAILABLE AGAIN! PERRY RHODAN 95 each #1 Enterprise Stardust Scheer & Ernsting #2 The Radiant Dome Scheer & Ernsting #3 Galactic Alarm Mahr & Shols #4 Invasion from Space Ernsting & Mahr #5 The Vega Sector Scheer & Mahr #6 Secret of the Time Vault Darlton #7 Fortress of the Six Moons Scheer #8 The Galactic Riddle Darlton #9 Quest through Space and Time Darlton #10 The Ghosts of Gol Mahr #11 Planet of the Dying Sun Mahr #12 Rebels of Tuglan Darlton #13 The Immortal Unknown Darlton #14 Venus in Danger Mahr #15 Escape To Venus Mahr #16 Secret Barrier X Shols #17 The Venus Trap Mahr #18 Menace of the Mutant Master Darlton #19 Mutants vs. Mutants Darlton #20 The Thrall of Hypno Darlton _Available wherever paperbacks an sold or use this coupon._ * * * * * ace books, (Dept. MM) Box 576, Times Square Station New York, N.Y. 10036 Please send me titles checked above. I enclose $.................. Add 25 handling fee per copy. Name.................................................... Address................................................. City...................... State............ Zip........ * * * * * ANDRE NORTON Android at Arms $1.25 Beast Master $1.25 Breed to Come $1.25 Catseye $1.25 The Crossroads Of Time $1.25 Dark Piper $1.25 Daybreak 2250 A.D. $1.25 Defiant Agents $1.25 Dragon Magic $1.25 Dread Companion $1.25 Exiles of the Stars $1.25 Eye of the Monster $1.25 Forerunner Foray $1.50 Galactic Derelict $1.25 High Sorcery $1.25 Huon of the Horn $1.25 Ice Crown $1.25 Judgment on Janus $1.25 Key Out of Time $1.25 The Last Planet $1.25 Lord of Thunder $1.25 Moon of Three Rings $1.25 Night of Masks $1.25 Operation Time Search $1.25 Ordeal In Otherwhere $1.25 _Available wherever paperbacks are sold or use this coupon._ * * * * * ace books, (Dept. MM) Box 576, Times Square Station New York. N.Y. 10036 Please send me titles checked above. I enclose $................ Add 25 handling fee per copy. Name................................................ Address.......................................... City............... State........... Zip......... * * * * * ANDRE NORTON $1.25 each Plague Ship Postmarked the Stars Quest Crosstime Sargasso of Space Sea Seige Secret of the Lost Race. Shadow Hawk The Sioux Spaceman Sorceress of Witch World Star Born Star Gate Star Guard Star Hunter & Voodoo Planet The Stars are Ours Storm Over Warlock Three Against the WitchWorld The Time Traders Uncharted Stars Victory on Janus Warlock of the Witch World Web of the Witch World Witch World The X Factor Year Of The Unicorn The Zero Stone _Available wherever paperbacks are sold or use this coupon._ * * * * * ace books, (Dept. MM) Box 576, Times Square Station New York, N.Y. 10036 Please send me titles checked above. I enclose $............... Add 25 handling fee per copy. Name................................................... Address................................................. City...................... State............ Zip........ End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Star Born, by Andre Norton *** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK STAR BORN *** ***** This file should be named 18458-8.txt or 18458-8.zip ***** This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: http://www.gutenberg.org/1/8/4/5/18458/ Produced by Jason Isbell, Greg Weeks, Sankar Viswanathan, and the Online Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions will be renamed. Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation (and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without permission and without paying copyright royalties. Special rules, set forth in the General Terms of Use part of this license, apply to copying and distributing Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works to protect the PROJECT GUTENBERG-tm concept and trademark. Project Gutenberg is a registered trademark, and may not be used if you charge for the eBooks, unless you receive specific permission. If you do not charge anything for copies of this eBook, complying with the rules is very easy. You may use this eBook for nearly any purpose such as creation of derivative works, reports, performances and research. They may be modified and printed and given away--you may do practically ANYTHING with public domain eBooks. Redistribution is subject to the trademark license, especially commercial redistribution. *** START: FULL LICENSE *** THE FULL PROJECT GUTENBERG LICENSE PLEASE READ THIS BEFORE YOU DISTRIBUTE OR USE THIS WORK To protect the Project Gutenberg-tm mission of promoting the free distribution of electronic works, by using or distributing this work (or any other work associated in any way with the phrase "Project Gutenberg"), you agree to comply with all the terms of the Full Project Gutenberg-tm License (available with this file or online at http://gutenberg.org/license). Section 1. General Terms of Use and Redistributing Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works 1.A. By reading or using any part of this Project Gutenberg-tm electronic work, you indicate that you have read, understand, agree to and accept all the terms of this license and intellectual property (trademark/copyright) agreement. If you do not agree to abide by all the terms of this agreement, you must cease using and return or destroy all copies of Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works in your possession. If you paid a fee for obtaining a copy of or access to a Project Gutenberg-tm electronic work and you do not agree to be bound by the terms of this agreement, you may obtain a refund from the person or entity to whom you paid the fee as set forth in paragraph 1.E.8. 1.B. "Project Gutenberg" is a registered trademark. It may only be used on or associated in any way with an electronic work by people who agree to be bound by the terms of this agreement. There are a few things that you can do with most Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works even without complying with the full terms of this agreement. See paragraph 1.C below. There are a lot of things you can do with Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works if you follow the terms of this agreement and help preserve free future access to Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works. See paragraph 1.E below. 1.C. The Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation ("the Foundation" or PGLAF), owns a compilation copyright in the collection of Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works. Nearly all the individual works in the collection are in the public domain in the United States. If an individual work is in the public domain in the United States and you are located in the United States, we do not claim a right to prevent you from copying, distributing, performing, displaying or creating derivative works based on the work as long as all references to Project Gutenberg are removed. Of course, we hope that you will support the Project Gutenberg-tm mission of promoting free access to electronic works by freely sharing Project Gutenberg-tm works in compliance with the terms of this agreement for keeping the Project Gutenberg-tm name associated with the work. You can easily comply with the terms of this agreement by keeping this work in the same format with its attached full Project Gutenberg-tm License when you share it without charge with others. 1.D. The copyright laws of the place where you are located also govern what you can do with this work. Copyright laws in most countries are in a constant state of change. If you are outside the United States, check the laws of your country in addition to the terms of this agreement before downloading, copying, displaying, performing, distributing or creating derivative works based on this work or any other Project Gutenberg-tm work. The Foundation makes no representations concerning the copyright status of any work in any country outside the United States. 1.E. Unless you have removed all references to Project Gutenberg: 1.E.1. The following sentence, with active links to, or other immediate access to, the full Project Gutenberg-tm License must appear prominently whenever any copy of a Project Gutenberg-tm work (any work on which the phrase "Project Gutenberg" appears, or with which the phrase "Project Gutenberg" is associated) is accessed, displayed, performed, viewed, copied or distributed: This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org 1.E.2. If an individual Project Gutenberg-tm electronic work is derived from the public domain (does not contain a notice indicating that it is posted with permission of the copyright holder), the work can be copied and distributed to anyone in the United States without paying any fees or charges. If you are redistributing or providing access to a work with the phrase "Project Gutenberg" associated with or appearing on the work, you must comply either with the requirements of paragraphs 1.E.1 through 1.E.7 or obtain permission for the use of the work and the Project Gutenberg-tm trademark as set forth in paragraphs 1.E.8 or 1.E.9. 1.E.3. If an individual Project Gutenberg-tm electronic work is posted with the permission of the copyright holder, your use and distribution must comply with both paragraphs 1.E.1 through 1.E.7 and any additional terms imposed by the copyright holder. Additional terms will be linked to the Project Gutenberg-tm License for all works posted with the permission of the copyright holder found at the beginning of this work. 1.E.4. Do not unlink or detach or remove the full Project Gutenberg-tm License terms from this work, or any files containing a part of this work or any other work associated with Project Gutenberg-tm. 1.E.5. Do not copy, display, perform, distribute or redistribute this electronic work, or any part of this electronic work, without prominently displaying the sentence set forth in paragraph 1.E.1 with active links or immediate access to the full terms of the Project Gutenberg-tm License. 1.E.6. You may convert to and distribute this work in any binary, compressed, marked up, nonproprietary or proprietary form, including any word processing or hypertext form. However, if you provide access to or distribute copies of a Project Gutenberg-tm work in a format other than "Plain Vanilla ASCII" or other format used in the official version posted on the official Project Gutenberg-tm web site (www.gutenberg.org), you must, at no additional cost, fee or expense to the user, provide a copy, a means of exporting a copy, or a means of obtaining a copy upon request, of the work in its original "Plain Vanilla ASCII" or other form. Any alternate format must include the full Project Gutenberg-tm License as specified in paragraph 1.E.1. 1.E.7. Do not charge a fee for access to, viewing, displaying, performing, copying or distributing any Project Gutenberg-tm works unless you comply with paragraph 1.E.8 or 1.E.9. 1.E.8. You may charge a reasonable fee for copies of or providing access to or distributing Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works provided that - You pay a royalty fee of 20% of the gross profits you derive from the use of Project Gutenberg-tm works calculated using the method you already use to calculate your applicable taxes. The fee is owed to the owner of the Project Gutenberg-tm trademark, but he has agreed to donate royalties under this paragraph to the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation. Royalty payments must be paid within 60 days following each date on which you prepare (or are legally required to prepare) your periodic tax returns. Royalty payments should be clearly marked as such and sent to the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation at the address specified in Section 4, "Information about donations to the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation." - You provide a full refund of any money paid by a user who notifies you in writing (or by e-mail) within 30 days of receipt that s/he does not agree to the terms of the full Project Gutenberg-tm License. You must require such a user to return or destroy all copies of the works possessed in a physical medium and discontinue all use of and all access to other copies of Project Gutenberg-tm works. - You provide, in accordance with paragraph 1.F.3, a full refund of any money paid for a work or a replacement copy, if a defect in the electronic work is discovered and reported to you within 90 days of receipt of the work. - You comply with all other terms of this agreement for free distribution of Project Gutenberg-tm works. 1.E.9. If you wish to charge a fee or distribute a Project Gutenberg-tm electronic work or group of works on different terms than are set forth in this agreement, you must obtain permission in writing from both the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation and Michael Hart, the owner of the Project Gutenberg-tm trademark. Contact the Foundation as set forth in Section 3 below. 1.F. 1.F.1. Project Gutenberg volunteers and employees expend considerable effort to identify, do copyright research on, transcribe and proofread public domain works in creating the Project Gutenberg-tm collection. Despite these efforts, Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works, and the medium on which they may be stored, may contain "Defects," such as, but not limited to, incomplete, inaccurate or corrupt data, transcription errors, a copyright or other intellectual property infringement, a defective or damaged disk or other medium, a computer virus, or computer codes that damage or cannot be read by your equipment. 1.F.2. LIMITED WARRANTY, DISCLAIMER OF DAMAGES - Except for the "Right of Replacement or Refund" described in paragraph 1.F.3, the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation, the owner of the Project Gutenberg-tm trademark, and any other party distributing a Project Gutenberg-tm electronic work under this agreement, disclaim all liability to you for damages, costs and expenses, including legal fees. YOU AGREE THAT YOU HAVE NO REMEDIES FOR NEGLIGENCE, STRICT LIABILITY, BREACH OF WARRANTY OR BREACH OF CONTRACT EXCEPT THOSE PROVIDED IN PARAGRAPH F3. YOU AGREE THAT THE FOUNDATION, THE TRADEMARK OWNER, AND ANY DISTRIBUTOR UNDER THIS AGREEMENT WILL NOT BE LIABLE TO YOU FOR ACTUAL, DIRECT, INDIRECT, CONSEQUENTIAL, PUNITIVE OR INCIDENTAL DAMAGES EVEN IF YOU GIVE NOTICE OF THE POSSIBILITY OF SUCH DAMAGE. 1.F.3. LIMITED RIGHT OF REPLACEMENT OR REFUND - If you discover a defect in this electronic work within 90 days of receiving it, you can receive a refund of the money (if any) you paid for it by sending a written explanation to the person you received the work from. If you received the work on a physical medium, you must return the medium with your written explanation. The person or entity that provided you with the defective work may elect to provide a replacement copy in lieu of a refund. If you received the work electronically, the person or entity providing it to you may choose to give you a second opportunity to receive the work electronically in lieu of a refund. If the second copy is also defective, you may demand a refund in writing without further opportunities to fix the problem. 1.F.4. Except for the limited right of replacement or refund set forth in paragraph 1.F.3, this work is provided to you 'AS-IS' WITH NO OTHER WARRANTIES OF ANY KIND, EXPRESS OR IMPLIED, INCLUDING BUT NOT LIMITED TO WARRANTIES OF MERCHANTIBILITY OR FITNESS FOR ANY PURPOSE. 1.F.5. Some states do not allow disclaimers of certain implied warranties or the exclusion or limitation of certain types of damages. If any disclaimer or limitation set forth in this agreement violates the law of the state applicable to this agreement, the agreement shall be interpreted to make the maximum disclaimer or limitation permitted by the applicable state law. The invalidity or unenforceability of any provision of this agreement shall not void the remaining provisions. 1.F.6. INDEMNITY - You agree to indemnify and hold the Foundation, the trademark owner, any agent or employee of the Foundation, anyone providing copies of Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works in accordance with this agreement, and any volunteers associated with the production, promotion and distribution of Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works, harmless from all liability, costs and expenses, including legal fees, that arise directly or indirectly from any of the following which you do or cause to occur: (a) distribution of this or any Project Gutenberg-tm work, (b) alteration, modification, or additions or deletions to any Project Gutenberg-tm work, and (c) any Defect you cause. Section 2. Information about the Mission of Project Gutenberg-tm Project Gutenberg-tm is synonymous with the free distribution of electronic works in formats readable by the widest variety of computers including obsolete, old, middle-aged and new computers. It exists because of the efforts of hundreds of volunteers and donations from people in all walks of life. Volunteers and financial support to provide volunteers with the assistance they need, is critical to reaching Project Gutenberg-tm's goals and ensuring that the Project Gutenberg-tm collection will remain freely available for generations to come. In 2001, the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation was created to provide a secure and permanent future for Project Gutenberg-tm and future generations. To learn more about the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation and how your efforts and donations can help, see Sections 3 and 4 and the Foundation web page at http://www.pglaf.org. Section 3. Information about the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation The Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation is a non profit 501(c)(3) educational corporation organized under the laws of the state of Mississippi and granted tax exempt status by the Internal Revenue Service. The Foundation's EIN or federal tax identification number is 64-6221541. Its 501(c)(3) letter is posted at http://pglaf.org/fundraising. Contributions to the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation are tax deductible to the full extent permitted by U.S. federal laws and your state's laws. The Foundation's principal office is located at 4557 Melan Dr. S. Fairbanks, AK, 99712., but its volunteers and employees are scattered throughout numerous locations. Its business office is located at 809 North 1500 West, Salt Lake City, UT 84116, (801) 596-1887, email [email protected]. Email contact links and up to date contact information can be found at the Foundation's web site and official page at http://pglaf.org For additional contact information: Dr. Gregory B. Newby

gets

How many times the word 'gets' appears in the text?

you to understand. No, your knowledge is not corrupt, it would not carry with it the same seeds of disaster as that of Those Others. But it would be too easy for us to accept, to walk a softer road, to forget what we have so far won. Just give us time--" Raf cupped his palms over his watering eyes. He wanted badly to see clearly the other's face, to be able to read his expression. Yet it seemed that somehow he _was_ able to see that sober face, as sincere as the words in his mind. "You will come again," Dalgard said with certainty. "And we shall be waiting because you, Raf Kurbi, made it possible." There was something so solemn about that that Raf looked up in surprise. "When you destroyed the core of Those Other's holding, you gave us our chance. For had you not done that we, the mermen, the other harmless, happy creatures of this world, would have been wiped out. There would be no new beginning here, only a dark and horrible end." Raf blinked; to his surprise that other figure standing in the direct sunlight did not waver, and beyond the proudly held head was a stretch of turquoise sky. He could see the color! "Yes, you shall see with your eyes--and with your mind," now Dalgard spoke aloud. "And if the Spirit which rules all space is kind, you shall return to your own people. For you have served His cause well." Then, as if he were embarrassed by his own solemnity, Dalgard ended with a most prosaic inquiry: "Would you like shellfish for eating?" Moments later, wading out into the water-swirled sand, his boots kicked off, his toes feeling for the elusive shelled creatures no one could see, Raf felt happier, freer than he could ever remember having been before. It was going to be all right. He could _see_! He would find the ship! He laughed aloud at nothing and heard an answering chuckle and then a whoop of triumph from the scout stooping to claw one of their prey out of hiding. It was after they had eaten that Dalgard asked another question, one which did not seem important to Raf. "You have a close friend among the crew of your ship?" Raf hesitated. Now that he was obliged to consider the point, did he have any friends--let alone a close one--among the crew of the _RS 10_? Certainly he did not claim Wonstead who had shared his quarters--he honestly did not care if he never saw him again. The officers, the experts such as Lablet--quickly face and character of each swept through his mind and was as swiftly discarded. There was Soriki--He could not claim the com-tech as any special friend, but at least during their period together among the aliens he had come to know him better. Now, as if Dalgard had read his mind--and he probably had, thought Raf with a flash of the old resentment--he had another question. "And what was he--is he like?" Though the pilot could see little reason for this he answered as best he could, trying to build first a physical picture of the com-tech and then doing a little guessing as to what lay under the other's space-burned skin. Dalgard lay on his back, gazing up into the blue-green sky. Yet Raf knew that he was intent on every word. A merman padded up, settled down cross-legged beside the scout, as if he too were enthralled by the pilot's halting description of a man he might never see again. Then a second of the sea people came and a third, until Raf felt that some sort of a noiseless council was in progress. His words trailed away, and then Dalgard offered an explanation. "It will take us many, many days to reach the place where your ship is. And before we are able to complete that journey your friends may be gone. So we shall try something else--with your aid." Raf fingered the little bundle of his possessions. Even his helmet with its com phone was missing. "No," again Dalgard read his mind. "Your machines are of no use to you now. We shall try _our_ way." "How?" Wild thoughts of a big signal fire--But how could that be sighted across a mountain range. Of some sort of an improvised com unit-- "I said _our_ way." There was a smile on Dalgard's face, visible to Raf's slowly clearing vision. "We shall provide another kind of machine, and these"--he waved at the mermen--"will give us the power, or so we hope. Lie here," he gestured to the sand beside him, "and think only of your friend in the ship, in his natural surroundings. Try to hold that picture constant in your mind, letting no other thought trouble it." "Do you mean--send a message to him mentally!" Raf's reply was half protest. "Did I not so reach you when we were in the city--even before I knew of you as an individual?" the scout reminded him. "And such messages are doubly possible when they are sent from friend to friend." "But we were close then." "That is why--" again Dalgard indicated the mermen. "For them this is the natural means of communication. They will pick up your reaching thought, amplify it with their power, beam it north. Since your friend deals with matters of communication, let us hope that he will be sensitive to this method." Raf was only half convinced that it might work But he remembered how Dalgard had established contact with him, before, as the scout had pointed out, they had met. It was that voiceless cry for aid which had pulled him into this adventure in the first place. It was only fitting that something of the same process give _him_ help in return. Obediently he stretched out on the sand and closed his dim eyes, trying to picture Soriki in the small cabin which held the com, slouched in his bucket seat, his deceptive posture that of a lax idler, as he had seen him so many times. Soriki--his broad face with its flat cheekbones, its wide cheerful mouth, its heavy-lidded eyes. And having fixed Soriki's face, he tried to believe that he was now confronting the com-tech, speaking directly to him. "Come--come and get me--south--seashore--Soriki come and get me!" The words formed a kind of chant, a chant aimed at that familiar face in its familiar surroundings. "South--come and get me--" Raf struggled to think only of that, to allow nothing to break through that chant or disturb his picture of the scene he had called from memory. How long that attempt at communication lasted the pilot could not tell, for somehow he slipped from the deep concentration into sleep, dreamless and untroubled, from which he awoke with the befogged feeling that something important had happened. But had he gotten through? The ring of mermen was gone, and it was dawn, gray, chill with the forewarnings of rain in the air. He was reassured because he was certain that in spite of the gloom his sight was a fraction clearer than it had been the day before. But had they gotten through? As he arose, brushing the sand from him, he saw the scout splashing out of the sea, a fish impaled on his spear. "Did we get through?" Raf blurted out. "Since your friend cannot reply with the mind touch, we do not know. But later we shall try again." To Raf's peering gaze Dalgard's face had a drawn, gaunt look as if he had been at hard labor during the hours just past. He walked up the beach slowly, without the springing step Raf had come to associate with him. As he settled down to gut the fish with one of the bone knives, the scout repeated, "We can try again--!" Half an hour later, as the rain swept in from the sea, Raf knew that they would not have to try. His head went up, his face eager. He had known that sound too long and too well ever to mistake it--the drone of a flitter motor cutting through the swish of the falling water. Some trick of the cliffs behind them must be magnifying and projecting the sound, for he could not sight the machine. But it was coming. He whirled to Dalgard, only to see that the other was on his feet and had taken up his spear. "It is the flitter! Soriki heard--they're coming!" Raf hastened to assure him. For the last time he saw Dalgard's slow, warm smile, clearer than he had ever seen it before. Then the scout turned and trotted away, toward a fringing rock wall. Before he dropped out of sight behind that barrier he raised the spear in salute. "Swift and fortunate voyaging!" He gave the farewell of Homeport. Then Raf understood. The colonist meant just what he had said: he wanted no contact with the space ship. To Raf he had owed a debt and now that was paid. But the time was not yet when the men of Astra and the men of Terra should meet. A hundred years from now perhaps--or a thousand--but not yet. And remembering what had summoned the flitter winging toward him, Raf drew a deep breath. What would the men of Astra accomplish in a hundred years? What could those of Terra do to match them in knowledge? It was a challenge, and he alone knew just how much of a challenge. Homeport must remain his own secret. He had been guided to this place, saved by the mermen alone. Dalgard and his people must not exist as far as the crew of the _RS 10_ were concerned. For the last time he experienced the intimacy of the mind touch. "That is it--brother!" Then the sensation was gone as the black blot of the flitter buzzed out of the clouds. From behind the rocks Dalgard watched the pilot enter the strange machine. For a single moment he had an impulse to shout, to run forward, to surrender to his desire to see the others, the ship which had brought them through space and would, they confidently believed, take them back to the Terra he knew only as a legend of the past. But he mastered that desire. He had been right. The road had already forked and there was no going back. He must carry this secret all the rest of his life--he must be strong-willed enough so that Homeport would never know. Time--give them time to be what they could be. Then in a hundred years--or a thousand--But not yet! * * * * * "Nobody today is telling better stories of straight-forward interstellar adventure." --_New York Herald-Tribune_ When Raf Kurbi's Terran spaceship burst into unexplored skies of the far planet Astra and was immediately made welcome by the natives of a once-mighty metropolis, Kurbi was unaware of three vital things: One was that Astra already harbored an Earth colony--descended from refugees from the world of the previous century. Two was that these men and women were facing the greatest danger of their existence from a new outburst of the inhuman fiends who had once tyrannized Astra. Three was that the natives who were buying Kurbi's science know-how were those very fiends--and their intentions were implacably deadly for all humans, whether Earth born or STAR BORN. _It's an Andre Norton space adventure--and therefore the tops in its field!_ * * * * * Quotes from the reviews: "All science-fiction fans will thrill to these new adventures created by Andre Norton.... All who enjoy a good adventure about the unknown parts of our galaxy will find this an enchanting story." --_Jackson _(_Tenn._) _Sun_ "Superb science-fiction." --_Montgomery Advertiser_ "Andre Norton adds another star to her literary laurels." --_Cleveland Press_ "A good, clearly thought-out story." --_New York Times_ "Exciting and adventure-laden." --_Library Journal_ "Suspense and excitement.... A storyteller of the first class, this is one of her best." --_Fantasy & Science Fiction_ * * * * * NOW AVAILABLE AGAIN! PERRY RHODAN 95 each #1 Enterprise Stardust Scheer & Ernsting #2 The Radiant Dome Scheer & Ernsting #3 Galactic Alarm Mahr & Shols #4 Invasion from Space Ernsting & Mahr #5 The Vega Sector Scheer & Mahr #6 Secret of the Time Vault Darlton #7 Fortress of the Six Moons Scheer #8 The Galactic Riddle Darlton #9 Quest through Space and Time Darlton #10 The Ghosts of Gol Mahr #11 Planet of the Dying Sun Mahr #12 Rebels of Tuglan Darlton #13 The Immortal Unknown Darlton #14 Venus in Danger Mahr #15 Escape To Venus Mahr #16 Secret Barrier X Shols #17 The Venus Trap Mahr #18 Menace of the Mutant Master Darlton #19 Mutants vs. Mutants Darlton #20 The Thrall of Hypno Darlton _Available wherever paperbacks an sold or use this coupon._ * * * * * ace books, (Dept. MM) Box 576, Times Square Station New York, N.Y. 10036 Please send me titles checked above. I enclose $.................. Add 25 handling fee per copy. Name.................................................... Address................................................. City...................... State............ Zip........ * * * * * ANDRE NORTON Android at Arms $1.25 Beast Master $1.25 Breed to Come $1.25 Catseye $1.25 The Crossroads Of Time $1.25 Dark Piper $1.25 Daybreak 2250 A.D. $1.25 Defiant Agents $1.25 Dragon Magic $1.25 Dread Companion $1.25 Exiles of the Stars $1.25 Eye of the Monster $1.25 Forerunner Foray $1.50 Galactic Derelict $1.25 High Sorcery $1.25 Huon of the Horn $1.25 Ice Crown $1.25 Judgment on Janus $1.25 Key Out of Time $1.25 The Last Planet $1.25 Lord of Thunder $1.25 Moon of Three Rings $1.25 Night of Masks $1.25 Operation Time Search $1.25 Ordeal In Otherwhere $1.25 _Available wherever paperbacks are sold or use this coupon._ * * * * * ace books, (Dept. MM) Box 576, Times Square Station New York. N.Y. 10036 Please send me titles checked above. I enclose $................ Add 25 handling fee per copy. Name................................................ Address.......................................... City............... State........... Zip......... * * * * * ANDRE NORTON $1.25 each Plague Ship Postmarked the Stars Quest Crosstime Sargasso of Space Sea Seige Secret of the Lost Race. Shadow Hawk The Sioux Spaceman Sorceress of Witch World Star Born Star Gate Star Guard Star Hunter & Voodoo Planet The Stars are Ours Storm Over Warlock Three Against the WitchWorld The Time Traders Uncharted Stars Victory on Janus Warlock of the Witch World Web of the Witch World Witch World The X Factor Year Of The Unicorn The Zero Stone _Available wherever paperbacks are sold or use this coupon._ * * * * * ace books, (Dept. MM) Box 576, Times Square Station New York, N.Y. 10036 Please send me titles checked above. I enclose $............... Add 25 handling fee per copy. Name................................................... Address................................................. City...................... State............ Zip........ End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Star Born, by Andre Norton *** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK STAR BORN *** ***** This file should be named 18458-8.txt or 18458-8.zip ***** This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: http://www.gutenberg.org/1/8/4/5/18458/ Produced by Jason Isbell, Greg Weeks, Sankar Viswanathan, and the Online Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions will be renamed. Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation (and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without permission and without paying copyright royalties. Special rules, set forth in the General Terms of Use part of this license, apply to copying and distributing Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works to protect the PROJECT GUTENBERG-tm concept and trademark. Project Gutenberg is a registered trademark, and may not be used if you charge for the eBooks, unless you receive specific permission. If you do not charge anything for copies of this eBook, complying with the rules is very easy. You may use this eBook for nearly any purpose such as creation of derivative works, reports, performances and research. They may be modified and printed and given away--you may do practically ANYTHING with public domain eBooks. Redistribution is subject to the trademark license, especially commercial redistribution. *** START: FULL LICENSE *** THE FULL PROJECT GUTENBERG LICENSE PLEASE READ THIS BEFORE YOU DISTRIBUTE OR USE THIS WORK To protect the Project Gutenberg-tm mission of promoting the free distribution of electronic works, by using or distributing this work (or any other work associated in any way with the phrase "Project Gutenberg"), you agree to comply with all the terms of the Full Project Gutenberg-tm License (available with this file or online at http://gutenberg.org/license). Section 1. General Terms of Use and Redistributing Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works 1.A. By reading or using any part of this Project Gutenberg-tm electronic work, you indicate that you have read, understand, agree to and accept all the terms of this license and intellectual property (trademark/copyright) agreement. If you do not agree to abide by all the terms of this agreement, you must cease using and return or destroy all copies of Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works in your possession. If you paid a fee for obtaining a copy of or access to a Project Gutenberg-tm electronic work and you do not agree to be bound by the terms of this agreement, you may obtain a refund from the person or entity to whom you paid the fee as set forth in paragraph 1.E.8. 1.B. "Project Gutenberg" is a registered trademark. It may only be used on or associated in any way with an electronic work by people who agree to be bound by the terms of this agreement. There are a few things that you can do with most Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works even without complying with the full terms of this agreement. See paragraph 1.C below. There are a lot of things you can do with Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works if you follow the terms of this agreement and help preserve free future access to Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works. See paragraph 1.E below. 1.C. The Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation ("the Foundation" or PGLAF), owns a compilation copyright in the collection of Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works. Nearly all the individual works in the collection are in the public domain in the United States. If an individual work is in the public domain in the United States and you are located in the United States, we do not claim a right to prevent you from copying, distributing, performing, displaying or creating derivative works based on the work as long as all references to Project Gutenberg are removed. Of course, we hope that you will support the Project Gutenberg-tm mission of promoting free access to electronic works by freely sharing Project Gutenberg-tm works in compliance with the terms of this agreement for keeping the Project Gutenberg-tm name associated with the work. You can easily comply with the terms of this agreement by keeping this work in the same format with its attached full Project Gutenberg-tm License when you share it without charge with others. 1.D. The copyright laws of the place where you are located also govern what you can do with this work. Copyright laws in most countries are in a constant state of change. If you are outside the United States, check the laws of your country in addition to the terms of this agreement before downloading, copying, displaying, performing, distributing or creating derivative works based on this work or any other Project Gutenberg-tm work. The Foundation makes no representations concerning the copyright status of any work in any country outside the United States. 1.E. Unless you have removed all references to Project Gutenberg: 1.E.1. The following sentence, with active links to, or other immediate access to, the full Project Gutenberg-tm License must appear prominently whenever any copy of a Project Gutenberg-tm work (any work on which the phrase "Project Gutenberg" appears, or with which the phrase "Project Gutenberg" is associated) is accessed, displayed, performed, viewed, copied or distributed: This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org 1.E.2. If an individual Project Gutenberg-tm electronic work is derived from the public domain (does not contain a notice indicating that it is posted with permission of the copyright holder), the work can be copied and distributed to anyone in the United States without paying any fees or charges. If you are redistributing or providing access to a work with the phrase "Project Gutenberg" associated with or appearing on the work, you must comply either with the requirements of paragraphs 1.E.1 through 1.E.7 or obtain permission for the use of the work and the Project Gutenberg-tm trademark as set forth in paragraphs 1.E.8 or 1.E.9. 1.E.3. If an individual Project Gutenberg-tm electronic work is posted with the permission of the copyright holder, your use and distribution must comply with both paragraphs 1.E.1 through 1.E.7 and any additional terms imposed by the copyright holder. Additional terms will be linked to the Project Gutenberg-tm License for all works posted with the permission of the copyright holder found at the beginning of this work. 1.E.4. Do not unlink or detach or remove the full Project Gutenberg-tm License terms from this work, or any files containing a part of this work or any other work associated with Project Gutenberg-tm. 1.E.5. Do not copy, display, perform, distribute or redistribute this electronic work, or any part of this electronic work, without prominently displaying the sentence set forth in paragraph 1.E.1 with active links or immediate access to the full terms of the Project Gutenberg-tm License. 1.E.6. You may convert to and distribute this work in any binary, compressed, marked up, nonproprietary or proprietary form, including any word processing or hypertext form. However, if you provide access to or distribute copies of a Project Gutenberg-tm work in a format other than "Plain Vanilla ASCII" or other format used in the official version posted on the official Project Gutenberg-tm web site (www.gutenberg.org), you must, at no additional cost, fee or expense to the user, provide a copy, a means of exporting a copy, or a means of obtaining a copy upon request, of the work in its original "Plain Vanilla ASCII" or other form. Any alternate format must include the full Project Gutenberg-tm License as specified in paragraph 1.E.1. 1.E.7. Do not charge a fee for access to, viewing, displaying, performing, copying or distributing any Project Gutenberg-tm works unless you comply with paragraph 1.E.8 or 1.E.9. 1.E.8. You may charge a reasonable fee for copies of or providing access to or distributing Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works provided that - You pay a royalty fee of 20% of the gross profits you derive from the use of Project Gutenberg-tm works calculated using the method you already use to calculate your applicable taxes. The fee is owed to the owner of the Project Gutenberg-tm trademark, but he has agreed to donate royalties under this paragraph to the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation. Royalty payments must be paid within 60 days following each date on which you prepare (or are legally required to prepare) your periodic tax returns. Royalty payments should be clearly marked as such and sent to the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation at the address specified in Section 4, "Information about donations to the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation." - You provide a full refund of any money paid by a user who notifies you in writing (or by e-mail) within 30 days of receipt that s/he does not agree to the terms of the full Project Gutenberg-tm License. You must require such a user to return or destroy all copies of the works possessed in a physical medium and discontinue all use of and all access to other copies of Project Gutenberg-tm works. - You provide, in accordance with paragraph 1.F.3, a full refund of any money paid for a work or a replacement copy, if a defect in the electronic work is discovered and reported to you within 90 days of receipt of the work. - You comply with all other terms of this agreement for free distribution of Project Gutenberg-tm works. 1.E.9. If you wish to charge a fee or distribute a Project Gutenberg-tm electronic work or group of works on different terms than are set forth in this agreement, you must obtain permission in writing from both the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation and Michael Hart, the owner of the Project Gutenberg-tm trademark. Contact the Foundation as set forth in Section 3 below. 1.F. 1.F.1. Project Gutenberg volunteers and employees expend considerable effort to identify, do copyright research on, transcribe and proofread public domain works in creating the Project Gutenberg-tm collection. Despite these efforts, Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works, and the medium on which they may be stored, may contain "Defects," such as, but not limited to, incomplete, inaccurate or corrupt data, transcription errors, a copyright or other intellectual property infringement, a defective or damaged disk or other medium, a computer virus, or computer codes that damage or cannot be read by your equipment. 1.F.2. LIMITED WARRANTY, DISCLAIMER OF DAMAGES - Except for the "Right of Replacement or Refund" described in paragraph 1.F.3, the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation, the owner of the Project Gutenberg-tm trademark, and any other party distributing a Project Gutenberg-tm electronic work under this agreement, disclaim all liability to you for damages, costs and expenses, including legal fees. YOU AGREE THAT YOU HAVE NO REMEDIES FOR NEGLIGENCE, STRICT LIABILITY, BREACH OF WARRANTY OR BREACH OF CONTRACT EXCEPT THOSE PROVIDED IN PARAGRAPH F3. YOU AGREE THAT THE FOUNDATION, THE TRADEMARK OWNER, AND ANY DISTRIBUTOR UNDER THIS AGREEMENT WILL NOT BE LIABLE TO YOU FOR ACTUAL, DIRECT, INDIRECT, CONSEQUENTIAL, PUNITIVE OR INCIDENTAL DAMAGES EVEN IF YOU GIVE NOTICE OF THE POSSIBILITY OF SUCH DAMAGE. 1.F.3. LIMITED RIGHT OF REPLACEMENT OR REFUND - If you discover a defect in this electronic work within 90 days of receiving it, you can receive a refund of the money (if any) you paid for it by sending a written explanation to the person you received the work from. If you received the work on a physical medium, you must return the medium with your written explanation. The person or entity that provided you with the defective work may elect to provide a replacement copy in lieu of a refund. If you received the work electronically, the person or entity providing it to you may choose to give you a second opportunity to receive the work electronically in lieu of a refund. If the second copy is also defective, you may demand a refund in writing without further opportunities to fix the problem. 1.F.4. Except for the limited right of replacement or refund set forth in paragraph 1.F.3, this work is provided to you 'AS-IS' WITH NO OTHER WARRANTIES OF ANY KIND, EXPRESS OR IMPLIED, INCLUDING BUT NOT LIMITED TO WARRANTIES OF MERCHANTIBILITY OR FITNESS FOR ANY PURPOSE. 1.F.5. Some states do not allow disclaimers of certain implied warranties or the exclusion or limitation of certain types of damages. If any disclaimer or limitation set forth in this agreement violates the law of the state applicable to this agreement, the agreement shall be interpreted to make the maximum disclaimer or limitation permitted by the applicable state law. The invalidity or unenforceability of any provision of this agreement shall not void the remaining provisions. 1.F.6. INDEMNITY - You agree to indemnify and hold the Foundation, the trademark owner, any agent or employee of the Foundation, anyone providing copies of Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works in accordance with this agreement, and any volunteers associated with the production, promotion and distribution of Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works, harmless from all liability, costs and expenses, including legal fees, that arise directly or indirectly from any of the following which you do or cause to occur: (a) distribution of this or any Project Gutenberg-tm work, (b) alteration, modification, or additions or deletions to any Project Gutenberg-tm work, and (c) any Defect you cause. Section 2. Information about the Mission of Project Gutenberg-tm Project Gutenberg-tm is synonymous with the free distribution of electronic works in formats readable by the widest variety of computers including obsolete, old, middle-aged and new computers. It exists because of the efforts of hundreds of volunteers and donations from people in all walks of life. Volunteers and financial support to provide volunteers with the assistance they need, is critical to reaching Project Gutenberg-tm's goals and ensuring that the Project Gutenberg-tm collection will remain freely available for generations to come. In 2001, the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation was created to provide a secure and permanent future for Project Gutenberg-tm and future generations. To learn more about the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation and how your efforts and donations can help, see Sections 3 and 4 and the Foundation web page at http://www.pglaf.org. Section 3. Information about the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation The Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation is a non profit 501(c)(3) educational corporation organized under the laws of the state of Mississippi and granted tax exempt status by the Internal Revenue Service. The Foundation's EIN or federal tax identification number is 64-6221541. Its 501(c)(3) letter is posted at http://pglaf.org/fundraising. Contributions to the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation are tax deductible to the full extent permitted by U.S. federal laws and your state's laws. The Foundation's principal office is located at 4557 Melan Dr. S. Fairbanks, AK, 99712., but its volunteers and employees are scattered throughout numerous locations. Its business office is located at 809 North 1500 West, Salt Lake City, UT 84116, (801) 596-1887, email [email protected]. Email contact links and up to date contact information can be found at the Foundation's web site and official page at http://pglaf.org For additional contact information: Dr. Gregory B. Newby

laughed

How many times the word 'laughed' appears in the text?

you to understand. No, your knowledge is not corrupt, it would not carry with it the same seeds of disaster as that of Those Others. But it would be too easy for us to accept, to walk a softer road, to forget what we have so far won. Just give us time--" Raf cupped his palms over his watering eyes. He wanted badly to see clearly the other's face, to be able to read his expression. Yet it seemed that somehow he _was_ able to see that sober face, as sincere as the words in his mind. "You will come again," Dalgard said with certainty. "And we shall be waiting because you, Raf Kurbi, made it possible." There was something so solemn about that that Raf looked up in surprise. "When you destroyed the core of Those Other's holding, you gave us our chance. For had you not done that we, the mermen, the other harmless, happy creatures of this world, would have been wiped out. There would be no new beginning here, only a dark and horrible end." Raf blinked; to his surprise that other figure standing in the direct sunlight did not waver, and beyond the proudly held head was a stretch of turquoise sky. He could see the color! "Yes, you shall see with your eyes--and with your mind," now Dalgard spoke aloud. "And if the Spirit which rules all space is kind, you shall return to your own people. For you have served His cause well." Then, as if he were embarrassed by his own solemnity, Dalgard ended with a most prosaic inquiry: "Would you like shellfish for eating?" Moments later, wading out into the water-swirled sand, his boots kicked off, his toes feeling for the elusive shelled creatures no one could see, Raf felt happier, freer than he could ever remember having been before. It was going to be all right. He could _see_! He would find the ship! He laughed aloud at nothing and heard an answering chuckle and then a whoop of triumph from the scout stooping to claw one of their prey out of hiding. It was after they had eaten that Dalgard asked another question, one which did not seem important to Raf. "You have a close friend among the crew of your ship?" Raf hesitated. Now that he was obliged to consider the point, did he have any friends--let alone a close one--among the crew of the _RS 10_? Certainly he did not claim Wonstead who had shared his quarters--he honestly did not care if he never saw him again. The officers, the experts such as Lablet--quickly face and character of each swept through his mind and was as swiftly discarded. There was Soriki--He could not claim the com-tech as any special friend, but at least during their period together among the aliens he had come to know him better. Now, as if Dalgard had read his mind--and he probably had, thought Raf with a flash of the old resentment--he had another question. "And what was he--is he like?" Though the pilot could see little reason for this he answered as best he could, trying to build first a physical picture of the com-tech and then doing a little guessing as to what lay under the other's space-burned skin. Dalgard lay on his back, gazing up into the blue-green sky. Yet Raf knew that he was intent on every word. A merman padded up, settled down cross-legged beside the scout, as if he too were enthralled by the pilot's halting description of a man he might never see again. Then a second of the sea people came and a third, until Raf felt that some sort of a noiseless council was in progress. His words trailed away, and then Dalgard offered an explanation. "It will take us many, many days to reach the place where your ship is. And before we are able to complete that journey your friends may be gone. So we shall try something else--with your aid." Raf fingered the little bundle of his possessions. Even his helmet with its com phone was missing. "No," again Dalgard read his mind. "Your machines are of no use to you now. We shall try _our_ way." "How?" Wild thoughts of a big signal fire--But how could that be sighted across a mountain range. Of some sort of an improvised com unit-- "I said _our_ way." There was a smile on Dalgard's face, visible to Raf's slowly clearing vision. "We shall provide another kind of machine, and these"--he waved at the mermen--"will give us the power, or so we hope. Lie here," he gestured to the sand beside him, "and think only of your friend in the ship, in his natural surroundings. Try to hold that picture constant in your mind, letting no other thought trouble it." "Do you mean--send a message to him mentally!" Raf's reply was half protest. "Did I not so reach you when we were in the city--even before I knew of you as an individual?" the scout reminded him. "And such messages are doubly possible when they are sent from friend to friend." "But we were close then." "That is why--" again Dalgard indicated the mermen. "For them this is the natural means of communication. They will pick up your reaching thought, amplify it with their power, beam it north. Since your friend deals with matters of communication, let us hope that he will be sensitive to this method." Raf was only half convinced that it might work But he remembered how Dalgard had established contact with him, before, as the scout had pointed out, they had met. It was that voiceless cry for aid which had pulled him into this adventure in the first place. It was only fitting that something of the same process give _him_ help in return. Obediently he stretched out on the sand and closed his dim eyes, trying to picture Soriki in the small cabin which held the com, slouched in his bucket seat, his deceptive posture that of a lax idler, as he had seen him so many times. Soriki--his broad face with its flat cheekbones, its wide cheerful mouth, its heavy-lidded eyes. And having fixed Soriki's face, he tried to believe that he was now confronting the com-tech, speaking directly to him. "Come--come and get me--south--seashore--Soriki come and get me!" The words formed a kind of chant, a chant aimed at that familiar face in its familiar surroundings. "South--come and get me--" Raf struggled to think only of that, to allow nothing to break through that chant or disturb his picture of the scene he had called from memory. How long that attempt at communication lasted the pilot could not tell, for somehow he slipped from the deep concentration into sleep, dreamless and untroubled, from which he awoke with the befogged feeling that something important had happened. But had he gotten through? The ring of mermen was gone, and it was dawn, gray, chill with the forewarnings of rain in the air. He was reassured because he was certain that in spite of the gloom his sight was a fraction clearer than it had been the day before. But had they gotten through? As he arose, brushing the sand from him, he saw the scout splashing out of the sea, a fish impaled on his spear. "Did we get through?" Raf blurted out. "Since your friend cannot reply with the mind touch, we do not know. But later we shall try again." To Raf's peering gaze Dalgard's face had a drawn, gaunt look as if he had been at hard labor during the hours just past. He walked up the beach slowly, without the springing step Raf had come to associate with him. As he settled down to gut the fish with one of the bone knives, the scout repeated, "We can try again--!" Half an hour later, as the rain swept in from the sea, Raf knew that they would not have to try. His head went up, his face eager. He had known that sound too long and too well ever to mistake it--the drone of a flitter motor cutting through the swish of the falling water. Some trick of the cliffs behind them must be magnifying and projecting the sound, for he could not sight the machine. But it was coming. He whirled to Dalgard, only to see that the other was on his feet and had taken up his spear. "It is the flitter! Soriki heard--they're coming!" Raf hastened to assure him. For the last time he saw Dalgard's slow, warm smile, clearer than he had ever seen it before. Then the scout turned and trotted away, toward a fringing rock wall. Before he dropped out of sight behind that barrier he raised the spear in salute. "Swift and fortunate voyaging!" He gave the farewell of Homeport. Then Raf understood. The colonist meant just what he had said: he wanted no contact with the space ship. To Raf he had owed a debt and now that was paid. But the time was not yet when the men of Astra and the men of Terra should meet. A hundred years from now perhaps--or a thousand--but not yet. And remembering what had summoned the flitter winging toward him, Raf drew a deep breath. What would the men of Astra accomplish in a hundred years? What could those of Terra do to match them in knowledge? It was a challenge, and he alone knew just how much of a challenge. Homeport must remain his own secret. He had been guided to this place, saved by the mermen alone. Dalgard and his people must not exist as far as the crew of the _RS 10_ were concerned. For the last time he experienced the intimacy of the mind touch. "That is it--brother!" Then the sensation was gone as the black blot of the flitter buzzed out of the clouds. From behind the rocks Dalgard watched the pilot enter the strange machine. For a single moment he had an impulse to shout, to run forward, to surrender to his desire to see the others, the ship which had brought them through space and would, they confidently believed, take them back to the Terra he knew only as a legend of the past. But he mastered that desire. He had been right. The road had already forked and there was no going back. He must carry this secret all the rest of his life--he must be strong-willed enough so that Homeport would never know. Time--give them time to be what they could be. Then in a hundred years--or a thousand--But not yet! * * * * * "Nobody today is telling better stories of straight-forward interstellar adventure." --_New York Herald-Tribune_ When Raf Kurbi's Terran spaceship burst into unexplored skies of the far planet Astra and was immediately made welcome by the natives of a once-mighty metropolis, Kurbi was unaware of three vital things: One was that Astra already harbored an Earth colony--descended from refugees from the world of the previous century. Two was that these men and women were facing the greatest danger of their existence from a new outburst of the inhuman fiends who had once tyrannized Astra. Three was that the natives who were buying Kurbi's science know-how were those very fiends--and their intentions were implacably deadly for all humans, whether Earth born or STAR BORN. _It's an Andre Norton space adventure--and therefore the tops in its field!_ * * * * * Quotes from the reviews: "All science-fiction fans will thrill to these new adventures created by Andre Norton.... All who enjoy a good adventure about the unknown parts of our galaxy will find this an enchanting story." --_Jackson _(_Tenn._) _Sun_ "Superb science-fiction." --_Montgomery Advertiser_ "Andre Norton adds another star to her literary laurels." --_Cleveland Press_ "A good, clearly thought-out story." --_New York Times_ "Exciting and adventure-laden." --_Library Journal_ "Suspense and excitement.... A storyteller of the first class, this is one of her best." --_Fantasy & Science Fiction_ * * * * * NOW AVAILABLE AGAIN! PERRY RHODAN 95 each #1 Enterprise Stardust Scheer & Ernsting #2 The Radiant Dome Scheer & Ernsting #3 Galactic Alarm Mahr & Shols #4 Invasion from Space Ernsting & Mahr #5 The Vega Sector Scheer & Mahr #6 Secret of the Time Vault Darlton #7 Fortress of the Six Moons Scheer #8 The Galactic Riddle Darlton #9 Quest through Space and Time Darlton #10 The Ghosts of Gol Mahr #11 Planet of the Dying Sun Mahr #12 Rebels of Tuglan Darlton #13 The Immortal Unknown Darlton #14 Venus in Danger Mahr #15 Escape To Venus Mahr #16 Secret Barrier X Shols #17 The Venus Trap Mahr #18 Menace of the Mutant Master Darlton #19 Mutants vs. Mutants Darlton #20 The Thrall of Hypno Darlton _Available wherever paperbacks an sold or use this coupon._ * * * * * ace books, (Dept. MM) Box 576, Times Square Station New York, N.Y. 10036 Please send me titles checked above. I enclose $.................. Add 25 handling fee per copy. Name.................................................... Address................................................. City...................... State............ Zip........ * * * * * ANDRE NORTON Android at Arms $1.25 Beast Master $1.25 Breed to Come $1.25 Catseye $1.25 The Crossroads Of Time $1.25 Dark Piper $1.25 Daybreak 2250 A.D. $1.25 Defiant Agents $1.25 Dragon Magic $1.25 Dread Companion $1.25 Exiles of the Stars $1.25 Eye of the Monster $1.25 Forerunner Foray $1.50 Galactic Derelict $1.25 High Sorcery $1.25 Huon of the Horn $1.25 Ice Crown $1.25 Judgment on Janus $1.25 Key Out of Time $1.25 The Last Planet $1.25 Lord of Thunder $1.25 Moon of Three Rings $1.25 Night of Masks $1.25 Operation Time Search $1.25 Ordeal In Otherwhere $1.25 _Available wherever paperbacks are sold or use this coupon._ * * * * * ace books, (Dept. MM) Box 576, Times Square Station New York. N.Y. 10036 Please send me titles checked above. I enclose $................ Add 25 handling fee per copy. Name................................................ Address.......................................... City............... State........... Zip......... * * * * * ANDRE NORTON $1.25 each Plague Ship Postmarked the Stars Quest Crosstime Sargasso of Space Sea Seige Secret of the Lost Race. Shadow Hawk The Sioux Spaceman Sorceress of Witch World Star Born Star Gate Star Guard Star Hunter & Voodoo Planet The Stars are Ours Storm Over Warlock Three Against the WitchWorld The Time Traders Uncharted Stars Victory on Janus Warlock of the Witch World Web of the Witch World Witch World The X Factor Year Of The Unicorn The Zero Stone _Available wherever paperbacks are sold or use this coupon._ * * * * * ace books, (Dept. MM) Box 576, Times Square Station New York, N.Y. 10036 Please send me titles checked above. I enclose $............... Add 25 handling fee per copy. Name................................................... Address................................................. City...................... State............ Zip........ End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Star Born, by Andre Norton *** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK STAR BORN *** ***** This file should be named 18458-8.txt or 18458-8.zip ***** This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: http://www.gutenberg.org/1/8/4/5/18458/ Produced by Jason Isbell, Greg Weeks, Sankar Viswanathan, and the Online Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions will be renamed. Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation (and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without permission and without paying copyright royalties. Special rules, set forth in the General Terms of Use part of this license, apply to copying and distributing Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works to protect the PROJECT GUTENBERG-tm concept and trademark. Project Gutenberg is a registered trademark, and may not be used if you charge for the eBooks, unless you receive specific permission. If you do not charge anything for copies of this eBook, complying with the rules is very easy. You may use this eBook for nearly any purpose such as creation of derivative works, reports, performances and research. They may be modified and printed and given away--you may do practically ANYTHING with public domain eBooks. Redistribution is subject to the trademark license, especially commercial redistribution. *** START: FULL LICENSE *** THE FULL PROJECT GUTENBERG LICENSE PLEASE READ THIS BEFORE YOU DISTRIBUTE OR USE THIS WORK To protect the Project Gutenberg-tm mission of promoting the free distribution of electronic works, by using or distributing this work (or any other work associated in any way with the phrase "Project Gutenberg"), you agree to comply with all the terms of the Full Project Gutenberg-tm License (available with this file or online at http://gutenberg.org/license). Section 1. General Terms of Use and Redistributing Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works 1.A. By reading or using any part of this Project Gutenberg-tm electronic work, you indicate that you have read, understand, agree to and accept all the terms of this license and intellectual property (trademark/copyright) agreement. If you do not agree to abide by all the terms of this agreement, you must cease using and return or destroy all copies of Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works in your possession. If you paid a fee for obtaining a copy of or access to a Project Gutenberg-tm electronic work and you do not agree to be bound by the terms of this agreement, you may obtain a refund from the person or entity to whom you paid the fee as set forth in paragraph 1.E.8. 1.B. "Project Gutenberg" is a registered trademark. It may only be used on or associated in any way with an electronic work by people who agree to be bound by the terms of this agreement. There are a few things that you can do with most Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works even without complying with the full terms of this agreement. See paragraph 1.C below. There are a lot of things you can do with Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works if you follow the terms of this agreement and help preserve free future access to Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works. See paragraph 1.E below. 1.C. The Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation ("the Foundation" or PGLAF), owns a compilation copyright in the collection of Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works. Nearly all the individual works in the collection are in the public domain in the United States. If an individual work is in the public domain in the United States and you are located in the United States, we do not claim a right to prevent you from copying, distributing, performing, displaying or creating derivative works based on the work as long as all references to Project Gutenberg are removed. Of course, we hope that you will support the Project Gutenberg-tm mission of promoting free access to electronic works by freely sharing Project Gutenberg-tm works in compliance with the terms of this agreement for keeping the Project Gutenberg-tm name associated with the work. You can easily comply with the terms of this agreement by keeping this work in the same format with its attached full Project Gutenberg-tm License when you share it without charge with others. 1.D. The copyright laws of the place where you are located also govern what you can do with this work. Copyright laws in most countries are in a constant state of change. If you are outside the United States, check the laws of your country in addition to the terms of this agreement before downloading, copying, displaying, performing, distributing or creating derivative works based on this work or any other Project Gutenberg-tm work. The Foundation makes no representations concerning the copyright status of any work in any country outside the United States. 1.E. Unless you have removed all references to Project Gutenberg: 1.E.1. The following sentence, with active links to, or other immediate access to, the full Project Gutenberg-tm License must appear prominently whenever any copy of a Project Gutenberg-tm work (any work on which the phrase "Project Gutenberg" appears, or with which the phrase "Project Gutenberg" is associated) is accessed, displayed, performed, viewed, copied or distributed: This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org 1.E.2. If an individual Project Gutenberg-tm electronic work is derived from the public domain (does not contain a notice indicating that it is posted with permission of the copyright holder), the work can be copied and distributed to anyone in the United States without paying any fees or charges. If you are redistributing or providing access to a work with the phrase "Project Gutenberg" associated with or appearing on the work, you must comply either with the requirements of paragraphs 1.E.1 through 1.E.7 or obtain permission for the use of the work and the Project Gutenberg-tm trademark as set forth in paragraphs 1.E.8 or 1.E.9. 1.E.3. If an individual Project Gutenberg-tm electronic work is posted with the permission of the copyright holder, your use and distribution must comply with both paragraphs 1.E.1 through 1.E.7 and any additional terms imposed by the copyright holder. Additional terms will be linked to the Project Gutenberg-tm License for all works posted with the permission of the copyright holder found at the beginning of this work. 1.E.4. Do not unlink or detach or remove the full Project Gutenberg-tm License terms from this work, or any files containing a part of this work or any other work associated with Project Gutenberg-tm. 1.E.5. Do not copy, display, perform, distribute or redistribute this electronic work, or any part of this electronic work, without prominently displaying the sentence set forth in paragraph 1.E.1 with active links or immediate access to the full terms of the Project Gutenberg-tm License. 1.E.6. You may convert to and distribute this work in any binary, compressed, marked up, nonproprietary or proprietary form, including any word processing or hypertext form. However, if you provide access to or distribute copies of a Project Gutenberg-tm work in a format other than "Plain Vanilla ASCII" or other format used in the official version posted on the official Project Gutenberg-tm web site (www.gutenberg.org), you must, at no additional cost, fee or expense to the user, provide a copy, a means of exporting a copy, or a means of obtaining a copy upon request, of the work in its original "Plain Vanilla ASCII" or other form. Any alternate format must include the full Project Gutenberg-tm License as specified in paragraph 1.E.1. 1.E.7. Do not charge a fee for access to, viewing, displaying, performing, copying or distributing any Project Gutenberg-tm works unless you comply with paragraph 1.E.8 or 1.E.9. 1.E.8. You may charge a reasonable fee for copies of or providing access to or distributing Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works provided that - You pay a royalty fee of 20% of the gross profits you derive from the use of Project Gutenberg-tm works calculated using the method you already use to calculate your applicable taxes. The fee is owed to the owner of the Project Gutenberg-tm trademark, but he has agreed to donate royalties under this paragraph to the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation. Royalty payments must be paid within 60 days following each date on which you prepare (or are legally required to prepare) your periodic tax returns. Royalty payments should be clearly marked as such and sent to the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation at the address specified in Section 4, "Information about donations to the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation." - You provide a full refund of any money paid by a user who notifies you in writing (or by e-mail) within 30 days of receipt that s/he does not agree to the terms of the full Project Gutenberg-tm License. You must require such a user to return or destroy all copies of the works possessed in a physical medium and discontinue all use of and all access to other copies of Project Gutenberg-tm works. - You provide, in accordance with paragraph 1.F.3, a full refund of any money paid for a work or a replacement copy, if a defect in the electronic work is discovered and reported to you within 90 days of receipt of the work. - You comply with all other terms of this agreement for free distribution of Project Gutenberg-tm works. 1.E.9. If you wish to charge a fee or distribute a Project Gutenberg-tm electronic work or group of works on different terms than are set forth in this agreement, you must obtain permission in writing from both the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation and Michael Hart, the owner of the Project Gutenberg-tm trademark. Contact the Foundation as set forth in Section 3 below. 1.F. 1.F.1. Project Gutenberg volunteers and employees expend considerable effort to identify, do copyright research on, transcribe and proofread public domain works in creating the Project Gutenberg-tm collection. Despite these efforts, Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works, and the medium on which they may be stored, may contain "Defects," such as, but not limited to, incomplete, inaccurate or corrupt data, transcription errors, a copyright or other intellectual property infringement, a defective or damaged disk or other medium, a computer virus, or computer codes that damage or cannot be read by your equipment. 1.F.2. LIMITED WARRANTY, DISCLAIMER OF DAMAGES - Except for the "Right of Replacement or Refund" described in paragraph 1.F.3, the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation, the owner of the Project Gutenberg-tm trademark, and any other party distributing a Project Gutenberg-tm electronic work under this agreement, disclaim all liability to you for damages, costs and expenses, including legal fees. YOU AGREE THAT YOU HAVE NO REMEDIES FOR NEGLIGENCE, STRICT LIABILITY, BREACH OF WARRANTY OR BREACH OF CONTRACT EXCEPT THOSE PROVIDED IN PARAGRAPH F3. YOU AGREE THAT THE FOUNDATION, THE TRADEMARK OWNER, AND ANY DISTRIBUTOR UNDER THIS AGREEMENT WILL NOT BE LIABLE TO YOU FOR ACTUAL, DIRECT, INDIRECT, CONSEQUENTIAL, PUNITIVE OR INCIDENTAL DAMAGES EVEN IF YOU GIVE NOTICE OF THE POSSIBILITY OF SUCH DAMAGE. 1.F.3. LIMITED RIGHT OF REPLACEMENT OR REFUND - If you discover a defect in this electronic work within 90 days of receiving it, you can receive a refund of the money (if any) you paid for it by sending a written explanation to the person you received the work from. If you received the work on a physical medium, you must return the medium with your written explanation. The person or entity that provided you with the defective work may elect to provide a replacement copy in lieu of a refund. If you received the work electronically, the person or entity providing it to you may choose to give you a second opportunity to receive the work electronically in lieu of a refund. If the second copy is also defective, you may demand a refund in writing without further opportunities to fix the problem. 1.F.4. Except for the limited right of replacement or refund set forth in paragraph 1.F.3, this work is provided to you 'AS-IS' WITH NO OTHER WARRANTIES OF ANY KIND, EXPRESS OR IMPLIED, INCLUDING BUT NOT LIMITED TO WARRANTIES OF MERCHANTIBILITY OR FITNESS FOR ANY PURPOSE. 1.F.5. Some states do not allow disclaimers of certain implied warranties or the exclusion or limitation of certain types of damages. If any disclaimer or limitation set forth in this agreement violates the law of the state applicable to this agreement, the agreement shall be interpreted to make the maximum disclaimer or limitation permitted by the applicable state law. The invalidity or unenforceability of any provision of this agreement shall not void the remaining provisions. 1.F.6. INDEMNITY - You agree to indemnify and hold the Foundation, the trademark owner, any agent or employee of the Foundation, anyone providing copies of Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works in accordance with this agreement, and any volunteers associated with the production, promotion and distribution of Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works, harmless from all liability, costs and expenses, including legal fees, that arise directly or indirectly from any of the following which you do or cause to occur: (a) distribution of this or any Project Gutenberg-tm work, (b) alteration, modification, or additions or deletions to any Project Gutenberg-tm work, and (c) any Defect you cause. Section 2. Information about the Mission of Project Gutenberg-tm Project Gutenberg-tm is synonymous with the free distribution of electronic works in formats readable by the widest variety of computers including obsolete, old, middle-aged and new computers. It exists because of the efforts of hundreds of volunteers and donations from people in all walks of life. Volunteers and financial support to provide volunteers with the assistance they need, is critical to reaching Project Gutenberg-tm's goals and ensuring that the Project Gutenberg-tm collection will remain freely available for generations to come. In 2001, the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation was created to provide a secure and permanent future for Project Gutenberg-tm and future generations. To learn more about the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation and how your efforts and donations can help, see Sections 3 and 4 and the Foundation web page at http://www.pglaf.org. Section 3. Information about the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation The Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation is a non profit 501(c)(3) educational corporation organized under the laws of the state of Mississippi and granted tax exempt status by the Internal Revenue Service. The Foundation's EIN or federal tax identification number is 64-6221541. Its 501(c)(3) letter is posted at http://pglaf.org/fundraising. Contributions to the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation are tax deductible to the full extent permitted by U.S. federal laws and your state's laws. The Foundation's principal office is located at 4557 Melan Dr. S. Fairbanks, AK, 99712., but its volunteers and employees are scattered throughout numerous locations. Its business office is located at 809 North 1500 West, Salt Lake City, UT 84116, (801) 596-1887, email [email protected]. Email contact links and up to date contact information can be found at the Foundation's web site and official page at http://pglaf.org For additional contact information: Dr. Gregory B. Newby

bucket

How many times the word 'bucket' appears in the text?

you to understand. No, your knowledge is not corrupt, it would not carry with it the same seeds of disaster as that of Those Others. But it would be too easy for us to accept, to walk a softer road, to forget what we have so far won. Just give us time--" Raf cupped his palms over his watering eyes. He wanted badly to see clearly the other's face, to be able to read his expression. Yet it seemed that somehow he _was_ able to see that sober face, as sincere as the words in his mind. "You will come again," Dalgard said with certainty. "And we shall be waiting because you, Raf Kurbi, made it possible." There was something so solemn about that that Raf looked up in surprise. "When you destroyed the core of Those Other's holding, you gave us our chance. For had you not done that we, the mermen, the other harmless, happy creatures of this world, would have been wiped out. There would be no new beginning here, only a dark and horrible end." Raf blinked; to his surprise that other figure standing in the direct sunlight did not waver, and beyond the proudly held head was a stretch of turquoise sky. He could see the color! "Yes, you shall see with your eyes--and with your mind," now Dalgard spoke aloud. "And if the Spirit which rules all space is kind, you shall return to your own people. For you have served His cause well." Then, as if he were embarrassed by his own solemnity, Dalgard ended with a most prosaic inquiry: "Would you like shellfish for eating?" Moments later, wading out into the water-swirled sand, his boots kicked off, his toes feeling for the elusive shelled creatures no one could see, Raf felt happier, freer than he could ever remember having been before. It was going to be all right. He could _see_! He would find the ship! He laughed aloud at nothing and heard an answering chuckle and then a whoop of triumph from the scout stooping to claw one of their prey out of hiding. It was after they had eaten that Dalgard asked another question, one which did not seem important to Raf. "You have a close friend among the crew of your ship?" Raf hesitated. Now that he was obliged to consider the point, did he have any friends--let alone a close one--among the crew of the _RS 10_? Certainly he did not claim Wonstead who had shared his quarters--he honestly did not care if he never saw him again. The officers, the experts such as Lablet--quickly face and character of each swept through his mind and was as swiftly discarded. There was Soriki--He could not claim the com-tech as any special friend, but at least during their period together among the aliens he had come to know him better. Now, as if Dalgard had read his mind--and he probably had, thought Raf with a flash of the old resentment--he had another question. "And what was he--is he like?" Though the pilot could see little reason for this he answered as best he could, trying to build first a physical picture of the com-tech and then doing a little guessing as to what lay under the other's space-burned skin. Dalgard lay on his back, gazing up into the blue-green sky. Yet Raf knew that he was intent on every word. A merman padded up, settled down cross-legged beside the scout, as if he too were enthralled by the pilot's halting description of a man he might never see again. Then a second of the sea people came and a third, until Raf felt that some sort of a noiseless council was in progress. His words trailed away, and then Dalgard offered an explanation. "It will take us many, many days to reach the place where your ship is. And before we are able to complete that journey your friends may be gone. So we shall try something else--with your aid." Raf fingered the little bundle of his possessions. Even his helmet with its com phone was missing. "No," again Dalgard read his mind. "Your machines are of no use to you now. We shall try _our_ way." "How?" Wild thoughts of a big signal fire--But how could that be sighted across a mountain range. Of some sort of an improvised com unit-- "I said _our_ way." There was a smile on Dalgard's face, visible to Raf's slowly clearing vision. "We shall provide another kind of machine, and these"--he waved at the mermen--"will give us the power, or so we hope. Lie here," he gestured to the sand beside him, "and think only of your friend in the ship, in his natural surroundings. Try to hold that picture constant in your mind, letting no other thought trouble it." "Do you mean--send a message to him mentally!" Raf's reply was half protest. "Did I not so reach you when we were in the city--even before I knew of you as an individual?" the scout reminded him. "And such messages are doubly possible when they are sent from friend to friend." "But we were close then." "That is why--" again Dalgard indicated the mermen. "For them this is the natural means of communication. They will pick up your reaching thought, amplify it with their power, beam it north. Since your friend deals with matters of communication, let us hope that he will be sensitive to this method." Raf was only half convinced that it might work But he remembered how Dalgard had established contact with him, before, as the scout had pointed out, they had met. It was that voiceless cry for aid which had pulled him into this adventure in the first place. It was only fitting that something of the same process give _him_ help in return. Obediently he stretched out on the sand and closed his dim eyes, trying to picture Soriki in the small cabin which held the com, slouched in his bucket seat, his deceptive posture that of a lax idler, as he had seen him so many times. Soriki--his broad face with its flat cheekbones, its wide cheerful mouth, its heavy-lidded eyes. And having fixed Soriki's face, he tried to believe that he was now confronting the com-tech, speaking directly to him. "Come--come and get me--south--seashore--Soriki come and get me!" The words formed a kind of chant, a chant aimed at that familiar face in its familiar surroundings. "South--come and get me--" Raf struggled to think only of that, to allow nothing to break through that chant or disturb his picture of the scene he had called from memory. How long that attempt at communication lasted the pilot could not tell, for somehow he slipped from the deep concentration into sleep, dreamless and untroubled, from which he awoke with the befogged feeling that something important had happened. But had he gotten through? The ring of mermen was gone, and it was dawn, gray, chill with the forewarnings of rain in the air. He was reassured because he was certain that in spite of the gloom his sight was a fraction clearer than it had been the day before. But had they gotten through? As he arose, brushing the sand from him, he saw the scout splashing out of the sea, a fish impaled on his spear. "Did we get through?" Raf blurted out. "Since your friend cannot reply with the mind touch, we do not know. But later we shall try again." To Raf's peering gaze Dalgard's face had a drawn, gaunt look as if he had been at hard labor during the hours just past. He walked up the beach slowly, without the springing step Raf had come to associate with him. As he settled down to gut the fish with one of the bone knives, the scout repeated, "We can try again--!" Half an hour later, as the rain swept in from the sea, Raf knew that they would not have to try. His head went up, his face eager. He had known that sound too long and too well ever to mistake it--the drone of a flitter motor cutting through the swish of the falling water. Some trick of the cliffs behind them must be magnifying and projecting the sound, for he could not sight the machine. But it was coming. He whirled to Dalgard, only to see that the other was on his feet and had taken up his spear. "It is the flitter! Soriki heard--they're coming!" Raf hastened to assure him. For the last time he saw Dalgard's slow, warm smile, clearer than he had ever seen it before. Then the scout turned and trotted away, toward a fringing rock wall. Before he dropped out of sight behind that barrier he raised the spear in salute. "Swift and fortunate voyaging!" He gave the farewell of Homeport. Then Raf understood. The colonist meant just what he had said: he wanted no contact with the space ship. To Raf he had owed a debt and now that was paid. But the time was not yet when the men of Astra and the men of Terra should meet. A hundred years from now perhaps--or a thousand--but not yet. And remembering what had summoned the flitter winging toward him, Raf drew a deep breath. What would the men of Astra accomplish in a hundred years? What could those of Terra do to match them in knowledge? It was a challenge, and he alone knew just how much of a challenge. Homeport must remain his own secret. He had been guided to this place, saved by the mermen alone. Dalgard and his people must not exist as far as the crew of the _RS 10_ were concerned. For the last time he experienced the intimacy of the mind touch. "That is it--brother!" Then the sensation was gone as the black blot of the flitter buzzed out of the clouds. From behind the rocks Dalgard watched the pilot enter the strange machine. For a single moment he had an impulse to shout, to run forward, to surrender to his desire to see the others, the ship which had brought them through space and would, they confidently believed, take them back to the Terra he knew only as a legend of the past. But he mastered that desire. He had been right. The road had already forked and there was no going back. He must carry this secret all the rest of his life--he must be strong-willed enough so that Homeport would never know. Time--give them time to be what they could be. Then in a hundred years--or a thousand--But not yet! * * * * * "Nobody today is telling better stories of straight-forward interstellar adventure." --_New York Herald-Tribune_ When Raf Kurbi's Terran spaceship burst into unexplored skies of the far planet Astra and was immediately made welcome by the natives of a once-mighty metropolis, Kurbi was unaware of three vital things: One was that Astra already harbored an Earth colony--descended from refugees from the world of the previous century. Two was that these men and women were facing the greatest danger of their existence from a new outburst of the inhuman fiends who had once tyrannized Astra. Three was that the natives who were buying Kurbi's science know-how were those very fiends--and their intentions were implacably deadly for all humans, whether Earth born or STAR BORN. _It's an Andre Norton space adventure--and therefore the tops in its field!_ * * * * * Quotes from the reviews: "All science-fiction fans will thrill to these new adventures created by Andre Norton.... All who enjoy a good adventure about the unknown parts of our galaxy will find this an enchanting story." --_Jackson _(_Tenn._) _Sun_ "Superb science-fiction." --_Montgomery Advertiser_ "Andre Norton adds another star to her literary laurels." --_Cleveland Press_ "A good, clearly thought-out story." --_New York Times_ "Exciting and adventure-laden." --_Library Journal_ "Suspense and excitement.... A storyteller of the first class, this is one of her best." --_Fantasy & Science Fiction_ * * * * * NOW AVAILABLE AGAIN! PERRY RHODAN 95 each #1 Enterprise Stardust Scheer & Ernsting #2 The Radiant Dome Scheer & Ernsting #3 Galactic Alarm Mahr & Shols #4 Invasion from Space Ernsting & Mahr #5 The Vega Sector Scheer & Mahr #6 Secret of the Time Vault Darlton #7 Fortress of the Six Moons Scheer #8 The Galactic Riddle Darlton #9 Quest through Space and Time Darlton #10 The Ghosts of Gol Mahr #11 Planet of the Dying Sun Mahr #12 Rebels of Tuglan Darlton #13 The Immortal Unknown Darlton #14 Venus in Danger Mahr #15 Escape To Venus Mahr #16 Secret Barrier X Shols #17 The Venus Trap Mahr #18 Menace of the Mutant Master Darlton #19 Mutants vs. Mutants Darlton #20 The Thrall of Hypno Darlton _Available wherever paperbacks an sold or use this coupon._ * * * * * ace books, (Dept. MM) Box 576, Times Square Station New York, N.Y. 10036 Please send me titles checked above. I enclose $.................. Add 25 handling fee per copy. Name.................................................... Address................................................. City...................... State............ Zip........ * * * * * ANDRE NORTON Android at Arms $1.25 Beast Master $1.25 Breed to Come $1.25 Catseye $1.25 The Crossroads Of Time $1.25 Dark Piper $1.25 Daybreak 2250 A.D. $1.25 Defiant Agents $1.25 Dragon Magic $1.25 Dread Companion $1.25 Exiles of the Stars $1.25 Eye of the Monster $1.25 Forerunner Foray $1.50 Galactic Derelict $1.25 High Sorcery $1.25 Huon of the Horn $1.25 Ice Crown $1.25 Judgment on Janus $1.25 Key Out of Time $1.25 The Last Planet $1.25 Lord of Thunder $1.25 Moon of Three Rings $1.25 Night of Masks $1.25 Operation Time Search $1.25 Ordeal In Otherwhere $1.25 _Available wherever paperbacks are sold or use this coupon._ * * * * * ace books, (Dept. MM) Box 576, Times Square Station New York. N.Y. 10036 Please send me titles checked above. I enclose $................ Add 25 handling fee per copy. Name................................................ Address.......................................... City............... State........... Zip......... * * * * * ANDRE NORTON $1.25 each Plague Ship Postmarked the Stars Quest Crosstime Sargasso of Space Sea Seige Secret of the Lost Race. Shadow Hawk The Sioux Spaceman Sorceress of Witch World Star Born Star Gate Star Guard Star Hunter & Voodoo Planet The Stars are Ours Storm Over Warlock Three Against the WitchWorld The Time Traders Uncharted Stars Victory on Janus Warlock of the Witch World Web of the Witch World Witch World The X Factor Year Of The Unicorn The Zero Stone _Available wherever paperbacks are sold or use this coupon._ * * * * * ace books, (Dept. MM) Box 576, Times Square Station New York, N.Y. 10036 Please send me titles checked above. I enclose $............... Add 25 handling fee per copy. Name................................................... Address................................................. City...................... State............ Zip........ End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Star Born, by Andre Norton *** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK STAR BORN *** ***** This file should be named 18458-8.txt or 18458-8.zip ***** This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: http://www.gutenberg.org/1/8/4/5/18458/ Produced by Jason Isbell, Greg Weeks, Sankar Viswanathan, and the Online Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions will be renamed. Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation (and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without permission and without paying copyright royalties. Special rules, set forth in the General Terms of Use part of this license, apply to copying and distributing Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works to protect the PROJECT GUTENBERG-tm concept and trademark. Project Gutenberg is a registered trademark, and may not be used if you charge for the eBooks, unless you receive specific permission. If you do not charge anything for copies of this eBook, complying with the rules is very easy. You may use this eBook for nearly any purpose such as creation of derivative works, reports, performances and research. They may be modified and printed and given away--you may do practically ANYTHING with public domain eBooks. Redistribution is subject to the trademark license, especially commercial redistribution. *** START: FULL LICENSE *** THE FULL PROJECT GUTENBERG LICENSE PLEASE READ THIS BEFORE YOU DISTRIBUTE OR USE THIS WORK To protect the Project Gutenberg-tm mission of promoting the free distribution of electronic works, by using or distributing this work (or any other work associated in any way with the phrase "Project Gutenberg"), you agree to comply with all the terms of the Full Project Gutenberg-tm License (available with this file or online at http://gutenberg.org/license). Section 1. General Terms of Use and Redistributing Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works 1.A. By reading or using any part of this Project Gutenberg-tm electronic work, you indicate that you have read, understand, agree to and accept all the terms of this license and intellectual property (trademark/copyright) agreement. If you do not agree to abide by all the terms of this agreement, you must cease using and return or destroy all copies of Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works in your possession. If you paid a fee for obtaining a copy of or access to a Project Gutenberg-tm electronic work and you do not agree to be bound by the terms of this agreement, you may obtain a refund from the person or entity to whom you paid the fee as set forth in paragraph 1.E.8. 1.B. "Project Gutenberg" is a registered trademark. It may only be used on or associated in any way with an electronic work by people who agree to be bound by the terms of this agreement. There are a few things that you can do with most Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works even without complying with the full terms of this agreement. See paragraph 1.C below. There are a lot of things you can do with Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works if you follow the terms of this agreement and help preserve free future access to Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works. See paragraph 1.E below. 1.C. The Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation ("the Foundation" or PGLAF), owns a compilation copyright in the collection of Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works. Nearly all the individual works in the collection are in the public domain in the United States. If an individual work is in the public domain in the United States and you are located in the United States, we do not claim a right to prevent you from copying, distributing, performing, displaying or creating derivative works based on the work as long as all references to Project Gutenberg are removed. Of course, we hope that you will support the Project Gutenberg-tm mission of promoting free access to electronic works by freely sharing Project Gutenberg-tm works in compliance with the terms of this agreement for keeping the Project Gutenberg-tm name associated with the work. You can easily comply with the terms of this agreement by keeping this work in the same format with its attached full Project Gutenberg-tm License when you share it without charge with others. 1.D. The copyright laws of the place where you are located also govern what you can do with this work. Copyright laws in most countries are in a constant state of change. If you are outside the United States, check the laws of your country in addition to the terms of this agreement before downloading, copying, displaying, performing, distributing or creating derivative works based on this work or any other Project Gutenberg-tm work. The Foundation makes no representations concerning the copyright status of any work in any country outside the United States. 1.E. Unless you have removed all references to Project Gutenberg: 1.E.1. The following sentence, with active links to, or other immediate access to, the full Project Gutenberg-tm License must appear prominently whenever any copy of a Project Gutenberg-tm work (any work on which the phrase "Project Gutenberg" appears, or with which the phrase "Project Gutenberg" is associated) is accessed, displayed, performed, viewed, copied or distributed: This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org 1.E.2. If an individual Project Gutenberg-tm electronic work is derived from the public domain (does not contain a notice indicating that it is posted with permission of the copyright holder), the work can be copied and distributed to anyone in the United States without paying any fees or charges. If you are redistributing or providing access to a work with the phrase "Project Gutenberg" associated with or appearing on the work, you must comply either with the requirements of paragraphs 1.E.1 through 1.E.7 or obtain permission for the use of the work and the Project Gutenberg-tm trademark as set forth in paragraphs 1.E.8 or 1.E.9. 1.E.3. If an individual Project Gutenberg-tm electronic work is posted with the permission of the copyright holder, your use and distribution must comply with both paragraphs 1.E.1 through 1.E.7 and any additional terms imposed by the copyright holder. Additional terms will be linked to the Project Gutenberg-tm License for all works posted with the permission of the copyright holder found at the beginning of this work. 1.E.4. Do not unlink or detach or remove the full Project Gutenberg-tm License terms from this work, or any files containing a part of this work or any other work associated with Project Gutenberg-tm. 1.E.5. Do not copy, display, perform, distribute or redistribute this electronic work, or any part of this electronic work, without prominently displaying the sentence set forth in paragraph 1.E.1 with active links or immediate access to the full terms of the Project Gutenberg-tm License. 1.E.6. You may convert to and distribute this work in any binary, compressed, marked up, nonproprietary or proprietary form, including any word processing or hypertext form. However, if you provide access to or distribute copies of a Project Gutenberg-tm work in a format other than "Plain Vanilla ASCII" or other format used in the official version posted on the official Project Gutenberg-tm web site (www.gutenberg.org), you must, at no additional cost, fee or expense to the user, provide a copy, a means of exporting a copy, or a means of obtaining a copy upon request, of the work in its original "Plain Vanilla ASCII" or other form. Any alternate format must include the full Project Gutenberg-tm License as specified in paragraph 1.E.1. 1.E.7. Do not charge a fee for access to, viewing, displaying, performing, copying or distributing any Project Gutenberg-tm works unless you comply with paragraph 1.E.8 or 1.E.9. 1.E.8. You may charge a reasonable fee for copies of or providing access to or distributing Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works provided that - You pay a royalty fee of 20% of the gross profits you derive from the use of Project Gutenberg-tm works calculated using the method you already use to calculate your applicable taxes. The fee is owed to the owner of the Project Gutenberg-tm trademark, but he has agreed to donate royalties under this paragraph to the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation. Royalty payments must be paid within 60 days following each date on which you prepare (or are legally required to prepare) your periodic tax returns. Royalty payments should be clearly marked as such and sent to the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation at the address specified in Section 4, "Information about donations to the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation." - You provide a full refund of any money paid by a user who notifies you in writing (or by e-mail) within 30 days of receipt that s/he does not agree to the terms of the full Project Gutenberg-tm License. You must require such a user to return or destroy all copies of the works possessed in a physical medium and discontinue all use of and all access to other copies of Project Gutenberg-tm works. - You provide, in accordance with paragraph 1.F.3, a full refund of any money paid for a work or a replacement copy, if a defect in the electronic work is discovered and reported to you within 90 days of receipt of the work. - You comply with all other terms of this agreement for free distribution of Project Gutenberg-tm works. 1.E.9. If you wish to charge a fee or distribute a Project Gutenberg-tm electronic work or group of works on different terms than are set forth in this agreement, you must obtain permission in writing from both the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation and Michael Hart, the owner of the Project Gutenberg-tm trademark. Contact the Foundation as set forth in Section 3 below. 1.F. 1.F.1. Project Gutenberg volunteers and employees expend considerable effort to identify, do copyright research on, transcribe and proofread public domain works in creating the Project Gutenberg-tm collection. Despite these efforts, Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works, and the medium on which they may be stored, may contain "Defects," such as, but not limited to, incomplete, inaccurate or corrupt data, transcription errors, a copyright or other intellectual property infringement, a defective or damaged disk or other medium, a computer virus, or computer codes that damage or cannot be read by your equipment. 1.F.2. LIMITED WARRANTY, DISCLAIMER OF DAMAGES - Except for the "Right of Replacement or Refund" described in paragraph 1.F.3, the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation, the owner of the Project Gutenberg-tm trademark, and any other party distributing a Project Gutenberg-tm electronic work under this agreement, disclaim all liability to you for damages, costs and expenses, including legal fees. YOU AGREE THAT YOU HAVE NO REMEDIES FOR NEGLIGENCE, STRICT LIABILITY, BREACH OF WARRANTY OR BREACH OF CONTRACT EXCEPT THOSE PROVIDED IN PARAGRAPH F3. YOU AGREE THAT THE FOUNDATION, THE TRADEMARK OWNER, AND ANY DISTRIBUTOR UNDER THIS AGREEMENT WILL NOT BE LIABLE TO YOU FOR ACTUAL, DIRECT, INDIRECT, CONSEQUENTIAL, PUNITIVE OR INCIDENTAL DAMAGES EVEN IF YOU GIVE NOTICE OF THE POSSIBILITY OF SUCH DAMAGE. 1.F.3. LIMITED RIGHT OF REPLACEMENT OR REFUND - If you discover a defect in this electronic work within 90 days of receiving it, you can receive a refund of the money (if any) you paid for it by sending a written explanation to the person you received the work from. If you received the work on a physical medium, you must return the medium with your written explanation. The person or entity that provided you with the defective work may elect to provide a replacement copy in lieu of a refund. If you received the work electronically, the person or entity providing it to you may choose to give you a second opportunity to receive the work electronically in lieu of a refund. If the second copy is also defective, you may demand a refund in writing without further opportunities to fix the problem. 1.F.4. Except for the limited right of replacement or refund set forth in paragraph 1.F.3, this work is provided to you 'AS-IS' WITH NO OTHER WARRANTIES OF ANY KIND, EXPRESS OR IMPLIED, INCLUDING BUT NOT LIMITED TO WARRANTIES OF MERCHANTIBILITY OR FITNESS FOR ANY PURPOSE. 1.F.5. Some states do not allow disclaimers of certain implied warranties or the exclusion or limitation of certain types of damages. If any disclaimer or limitation set forth in this agreement violates the law of the state applicable to this agreement, the agreement shall be interpreted to make the maximum disclaimer or limitation permitted by the applicable state law. The invalidity or unenforceability of any provision of this agreement shall not void the remaining provisions. 1.F.6. INDEMNITY - You agree to indemnify and hold the Foundation, the trademark owner, any agent or employee of the Foundation, anyone providing copies of Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works in accordance with this agreement, and any volunteers associated with the production, promotion and distribution of Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works, harmless from all liability, costs and expenses, including legal fees, that arise directly or indirectly from any of the following which you do or cause to occur: (a) distribution of this or any Project Gutenberg-tm work, (b) alteration, modification, or additions or deletions to any Project Gutenberg-tm work, and (c) any Defect you cause. Section 2. Information about the Mission of Project Gutenberg-tm Project Gutenberg-tm is synonymous with the free distribution of electronic works in formats readable by the widest variety of computers including obsolete, old, middle-aged and new computers. It exists because of the efforts of hundreds of volunteers and donations from people in all walks of life. Volunteers and financial support to provide volunteers with the assistance they need, is critical to reaching Project Gutenberg-tm's goals and ensuring that the Project Gutenberg-tm collection will remain freely available for generations to come. In 2001, the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation was created to provide a secure and permanent future for Project Gutenberg-tm and future generations. To learn more about the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation and how your efforts and donations can help, see Sections 3 and 4 and the Foundation web page at http://www.pglaf.org. Section 3. Information about the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation The Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation is a non profit 501(c)(3) educational corporation organized under the laws of the state of Mississippi and granted tax exempt status by the Internal Revenue Service. The Foundation's EIN or federal tax identification number is 64-6221541. Its 501(c)(3) letter is posted at http://pglaf.org/fundraising. Contributions to the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation are tax deductible to the full extent permitted by U.S. federal laws and your state's laws. The Foundation's principal office is located at 4557 Melan Dr. S. Fairbanks, AK, 99712., but its volunteers and employees are scattered throughout numerous locations. Its business office is located at 809 North 1500 West, Salt Lake City, UT 84116, (801) 596-1887, email [email protected]. Email contact links and up to date contact information can be found at the Foundation's web site and official page at http://pglaf.org For additional contact information: Dr. Gregory B. Newby

winging

How many times the word 'winging' appears in the text?

you to understand. No, your knowledge is not corrupt, it would not carry with it the same seeds of disaster as that of Those Others. But it would be too easy for us to accept, to walk a softer road, to forget what we have so far won. Just give us time--" Raf cupped his palms over his watering eyes. He wanted badly to see clearly the other's face, to be able to read his expression. Yet it seemed that somehow he _was_ able to see that sober face, as sincere as the words in his mind. "You will come again," Dalgard said with certainty. "And we shall be waiting because you, Raf Kurbi, made it possible." There was something so solemn about that that Raf looked up in surprise. "When you destroyed the core of Those Other's holding, you gave us our chance. For had you not done that we, the mermen, the other harmless, happy creatures of this world, would have been wiped out. There would be no new beginning here, only a dark and horrible end." Raf blinked; to his surprise that other figure standing in the direct sunlight did not waver, and beyond the proudly held head was a stretch of turquoise sky. He could see the color! "Yes, you shall see with your eyes--and with your mind," now Dalgard spoke aloud. "And if the Spirit which rules all space is kind, you shall return to your own people. For you have served His cause well." Then, as if he were embarrassed by his own solemnity, Dalgard ended with a most prosaic inquiry: "Would you like shellfish for eating?" Moments later, wading out into the water-swirled sand, his boots kicked off, his toes feeling for the elusive shelled creatures no one could see, Raf felt happier, freer than he could ever remember having been before. It was going to be all right. He could _see_! He would find the ship! He laughed aloud at nothing and heard an answering chuckle and then a whoop of triumph from the scout stooping to claw one of their prey out of hiding. It was after they had eaten that Dalgard asked another question, one which did not seem important to Raf. "You have a close friend among the crew of your ship?" Raf hesitated. Now that he was obliged to consider the point, did he have any friends--let alone a close one--among the crew of the _RS 10_? Certainly he did not claim Wonstead who had shared his quarters--he honestly did not care if he never saw him again. The officers, the experts such as Lablet--quickly face and character of each swept through his mind and was as swiftly discarded. There was Soriki--He could not claim the com-tech as any special friend, but at least during their period together among the aliens he had come to know him better. Now, as if Dalgard had read his mind--and he probably had, thought Raf with a flash of the old resentment--he had another question. "And what was he--is he like?" Though the pilot could see little reason for this he answered as best he could, trying to build first a physical picture of the com-tech and then doing a little guessing as to what lay under the other's space-burned skin. Dalgard lay on his back, gazing up into the blue-green sky. Yet Raf knew that he was intent on every word. A merman padded up, settled down cross-legged beside the scout, as if he too were enthralled by the pilot's halting description of a man he might never see again. Then a second of the sea people came and a third, until Raf felt that some sort of a noiseless council was in progress. His words trailed away, and then Dalgard offered an explanation. "It will take us many, many days to reach the place where your ship is. And before we are able to complete that journey your friends may be gone. So we shall try something else--with your aid." Raf fingered the little bundle of his possessions. Even his helmet with its com phone was missing. "No," again Dalgard read his mind. "Your machines are of no use to you now. We shall try _our_ way." "How?" Wild thoughts of a big signal fire--But how could that be sighted across a mountain range. Of some sort of an improvised com unit-- "I said _our_ way." There was a smile on Dalgard's face, visible to Raf's slowly clearing vision. "We shall provide another kind of machine, and these"--he waved at the mermen--"will give us the power, or so we hope. Lie here," he gestured to the sand beside him, "and think only of your friend in the ship, in his natural surroundings. Try to hold that picture constant in your mind, letting no other thought trouble it." "Do you mean--send a message to him mentally!" Raf's reply was half protest. "Did I not so reach you when we were in the city--even before I knew of you as an individual?" the scout reminded him. "And such messages are doubly possible when they are sent from friend to friend." "But we were close then." "That is why--" again Dalgard indicated the mermen. "For them this is the natural means of communication. They will pick up your reaching thought, amplify it with their power, beam it north. Since your friend deals with matters of communication, let us hope that he will be sensitive to this method." Raf was only half convinced that it might work But he remembered how Dalgard had established contact with him, before, as the scout had pointed out, they had met. It was that voiceless cry for aid which had pulled him into this adventure in the first place. It was only fitting that something of the same process give _him_ help in return. Obediently he stretched out on the sand and closed his dim eyes, trying to picture Soriki in the small cabin which held the com, slouched in his bucket seat, his deceptive posture that of a lax idler, as he had seen him so many times. Soriki--his broad face with its flat cheekbones, its wide cheerful mouth, its heavy-lidded eyes. And having fixed Soriki's face, he tried to believe that he was now confronting the com-tech, speaking directly to him. "Come--come and get me--south--seashore--Soriki come and get me!" The words formed a kind of chant, a chant aimed at that familiar face in its familiar surroundings. "South--come and get me--" Raf struggled to think only of that, to allow nothing to break through that chant or disturb his picture of the scene he had called from memory. How long that attempt at communication lasted the pilot could not tell, for somehow he slipped from the deep concentration into sleep, dreamless and untroubled, from which he awoke with the befogged feeling that something important had happened. But had he gotten through? The ring of mermen was gone, and it was dawn, gray, chill with the forewarnings of rain in the air. He was reassured because he was certain that in spite of the gloom his sight was a fraction clearer than it had been the day before. But had they gotten through? As he arose, brushing the sand from him, he saw the scout splashing out of the sea, a fish impaled on his spear. "Did we get through?" Raf blurted out. "Since your friend cannot reply with the mind touch, we do not know. But later we shall try again." To Raf's peering gaze Dalgard's face had a drawn, gaunt look as if he had been at hard labor during the hours just past. He walked up the beach slowly, without the springing step Raf had come to associate with him. As he settled down to gut the fish with one of the bone knives, the scout repeated, "We can try again--!" Half an hour later, as the rain swept in from the sea, Raf knew that they would not have to try. His head went up, his face eager. He had known that sound too long and too well ever to mistake it--the drone of a flitter motor cutting through the swish of the falling water. Some trick of the cliffs behind them must be magnifying and projecting the sound, for he could not sight the machine. But it was coming. He whirled to Dalgard, only to see that the other was on his feet and had taken up his spear. "It is the flitter! Soriki heard--they're coming!" Raf hastened to assure him. For the last time he saw Dalgard's slow, warm smile, clearer than he had ever seen it before. Then the scout turned and trotted away, toward a fringing rock wall. Before he dropped out of sight behind that barrier he raised the spear in salute. "Swift and fortunate voyaging!" He gave the farewell of Homeport. Then Raf understood. The colonist meant just what he had said: he wanted no contact with the space ship. To Raf he had owed a debt and now that was paid. But the time was not yet when the men of Astra and the men of Terra should meet. A hundred years from now perhaps--or a thousand--but not yet. And remembering what had summoned the flitter winging toward him, Raf drew a deep breath. What would the men of Astra accomplish in a hundred years? What could those of Terra do to match them in knowledge? It was a challenge, and he alone knew just how much of a challenge. Homeport must remain his own secret. He had been guided to this place, saved by the mermen alone. Dalgard and his people must not exist as far as the crew of the _RS 10_ were concerned. For the last time he experienced the intimacy of the mind touch. "That is it--brother!" Then the sensation was gone as the black blot of the flitter buzzed out of the clouds. From behind the rocks Dalgard watched the pilot enter the strange machine. For a single moment he had an impulse to shout, to run forward, to surrender to his desire to see the others, the ship which had brought them through space and would, they confidently believed, take them back to the Terra he knew only as a legend of the past. But he mastered that desire. He had been right. The road had already forked and there was no going back. He must carry this secret all the rest of his life--he must be strong-willed enough so that Homeport would never know. Time--give them time to be what they could be. Then in a hundred years--or a thousand--But not yet! * * * * * "Nobody today is telling better stories of straight-forward interstellar adventure." --_New York Herald-Tribune_ When Raf Kurbi's Terran spaceship burst into unexplored skies of the far planet Astra and was immediately made welcome by the natives of a once-mighty metropolis, Kurbi was unaware of three vital things: One was that Astra already harbored an Earth colony--descended from refugees from the world of the previous century. Two was that these men and women were facing the greatest danger of their existence from a new outburst of the inhuman fiends who had once tyrannized Astra. Three was that the natives who were buying Kurbi's science know-how were those very fiends--and their intentions were implacably deadly for all humans, whether Earth born or STAR BORN. _It's an Andre Norton space adventure--and therefore the tops in its field!_ * * * * * Quotes from the reviews: "All science-fiction fans will thrill to these new adventures created by Andre Norton.... All who enjoy a good adventure about the unknown parts of our galaxy will find this an enchanting story." --_Jackson _(_Tenn._) _Sun_ "Superb science-fiction." --_Montgomery Advertiser_ "Andre Norton adds another star to her literary laurels." --_Cleveland Press_ "A good, clearly thought-out story." --_New York Times_ "Exciting and adventure-laden." --_Library Journal_ "Suspense and excitement.... A storyteller of the first class, this is one of her best." --_Fantasy & Science Fiction_ * * * * * NOW AVAILABLE AGAIN! PERRY RHODAN 95 each #1 Enterprise Stardust Scheer & Ernsting #2 The Radiant Dome Scheer & Ernsting #3 Galactic Alarm Mahr & Shols #4 Invasion from Space Ernsting & Mahr #5 The Vega Sector Scheer & Mahr #6 Secret of the Time Vault Darlton #7 Fortress of the Six Moons Scheer #8 The Galactic Riddle Darlton #9 Quest through Space and Time Darlton #10 The Ghosts of Gol Mahr #11 Planet of the Dying Sun Mahr #12 Rebels of Tuglan Darlton #13 The Immortal Unknown Darlton #14 Venus in Danger Mahr #15 Escape To Venus Mahr #16 Secret Barrier X Shols #17 The Venus Trap Mahr #18 Menace of the Mutant Master Darlton #19 Mutants vs. Mutants Darlton #20 The Thrall of Hypno Darlton _Available wherever paperbacks an sold or use this coupon._ * * * * * ace books, (Dept. MM) Box 576, Times Square Station New York, N.Y. 10036 Please send me titles checked above. I enclose $.................. Add 25 handling fee per copy. Name.................................................... Address................................................. City...................... State............ Zip........ * * * * * ANDRE NORTON Android at Arms $1.25 Beast Master $1.25 Breed to Come $1.25 Catseye $1.25 The Crossroads Of Time $1.25 Dark Piper $1.25 Daybreak 2250 A.D. $1.25 Defiant Agents $1.25 Dragon Magic $1.25 Dread Companion $1.25 Exiles of the Stars $1.25 Eye of the Monster $1.25 Forerunner Foray $1.50 Galactic Derelict $1.25 High Sorcery $1.25 Huon of the Horn $1.25 Ice Crown $1.25 Judgment on Janus $1.25 Key Out of Time $1.25 The Last Planet $1.25 Lord of Thunder $1.25 Moon of Three Rings $1.25 Night of Masks $1.25 Operation Time Search $1.25 Ordeal In Otherwhere $1.25 _Available wherever paperbacks are sold or use this coupon._ * * * * * ace books, (Dept. MM) Box 576, Times Square Station New York. N.Y. 10036 Please send me titles checked above. I enclose $................ Add 25 handling fee per copy. Name................................................ Address.......................................... City............... State........... Zip......... * * * * * ANDRE NORTON $1.25 each Plague Ship Postmarked the Stars Quest Crosstime Sargasso of Space Sea Seige Secret of the Lost Race. Shadow Hawk The Sioux Spaceman Sorceress of Witch World Star Born Star Gate Star Guard Star Hunter & Voodoo Planet The Stars are Ours Storm Over Warlock Three Against the WitchWorld The Time Traders Uncharted Stars Victory on Janus Warlock of the Witch World Web of the Witch World Witch World The X Factor Year Of The Unicorn The Zero Stone _Available wherever paperbacks are sold or use this coupon._ * * * * * ace books, (Dept. MM) Box 576, Times Square Station New York, N.Y. 10036 Please send me titles checked above. I enclose $............... Add 25 handling fee per copy. Name................................................... Address................................................. City...................... State............ Zip........ End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Star Born, by Andre Norton *** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK STAR BORN *** ***** This file should be named 18458-8.txt or 18458-8.zip ***** This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: http://www.gutenberg.org/1/8/4/5/18458/ Produced by Jason Isbell, Greg Weeks, Sankar Viswanathan, and the Online Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions will be renamed. Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation (and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without permission and without paying copyright royalties. Special rules, set forth in the General Terms of Use part of this license, apply to copying and distributing Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works to protect the PROJECT GUTENBERG-tm concept and trademark. Project Gutenberg is a registered trademark, and may not be used if you charge for the eBooks, unless you receive specific permission. If you do not charge anything for copies of this eBook, complying with the rules is very easy. You may use this eBook for nearly any purpose such as creation of derivative works, reports, performances and research. They may be modified and printed and given away--you may do practically ANYTHING with public domain eBooks. Redistribution is subject to the trademark license, especially commercial redistribution. *** START: FULL LICENSE *** THE FULL PROJECT GUTENBERG LICENSE PLEASE READ THIS BEFORE YOU DISTRIBUTE OR USE THIS WORK To protect the Project Gutenberg-tm mission of promoting the free distribution of electronic works, by using or distributing this work (or any other work associated in any way with the phrase "Project Gutenberg"), you agree to comply with all the terms of the Full Project Gutenberg-tm License (available with this file or online at http://gutenberg.org/license). Section 1. General Terms of Use and Redistributing Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works 1.A. By reading or using any part of this Project Gutenberg-tm electronic work, you indicate that you have read, understand, agree to and accept all the terms of this license and intellectual property (trademark/copyright) agreement. If you do not agree to abide by all the terms of this agreement, you must cease using and return or destroy all copies of Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works in your possession. If you paid a fee for obtaining a copy of or access to a Project Gutenberg-tm electronic work and you do not agree to be bound by the terms of this agreement, you may obtain a refund from the person or entity to whom you paid the fee as set forth in paragraph 1.E.8. 1.B. "Project Gutenberg" is a registered trademark. It may only be used on or associated in any way with an electronic work by people who agree to be bound by the terms of this agreement. There are a few things that you can do with most Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works even without complying with the full terms of this agreement. See paragraph 1.C below. There are a lot of things you can do with Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works if you follow the terms of this agreement and help preserve free future access to Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works. See paragraph 1.E below. 1.C. The Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation ("the Foundation" or PGLAF), owns a compilation copyright in the collection of Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works. Nearly all the individual works in the collection are in the public domain in the United States. If an individual work is in the public domain in the United States and you are located in the United States, we do not claim a right to prevent you from copying, distributing, performing, displaying or creating derivative works based on the work as long as all references to Project Gutenberg are removed. Of course, we hope that you will support the Project Gutenberg-tm mission of promoting free access to electronic works by freely sharing Project Gutenberg-tm works in compliance with the terms of this agreement for keeping the Project Gutenberg-tm name associated with the work. You can easily comply with the terms of this agreement by keeping this work in the same format with its attached full Project Gutenberg-tm License when you share it without charge with others. 1.D. The copyright laws of the place where you are located also govern what you can do with this work. Copyright laws in most countries are in a constant state of change. If you are outside the United States, check the laws of your country in addition to the terms of this agreement before downloading, copying, displaying, performing, distributing or creating derivative works based on this work or any other Project Gutenberg-tm work. The Foundation makes no representations concerning the copyright status of any work in any country outside the United States. 1.E. Unless you have removed all references to Project Gutenberg: 1.E.1. The following sentence, with active links to, or other immediate access to, the full Project Gutenberg-tm License must appear prominently whenever any copy of a Project Gutenberg-tm work (any work on which the phrase "Project Gutenberg" appears, or with which the phrase "Project Gutenberg" is associated) is accessed, displayed, performed, viewed, copied or distributed: This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org 1.E.2. If an individual Project Gutenberg-tm electronic work is derived from the public domain (does not contain a notice indicating that it is posted with permission of the copyright holder), the work can be copied and distributed to anyone in the United States without paying any fees or charges. If you are redistributing or providing access to a work with the phrase "Project Gutenberg" associated with or appearing on the work, you must comply either with the requirements of paragraphs 1.E.1 through 1.E.7 or obtain permission for the use of the work and the Project Gutenberg-tm trademark as set forth in paragraphs 1.E.8 or 1.E.9. 1.E.3. If an individual Project Gutenberg-tm electronic work is posted with the permission of the copyright holder, your use and distribution must comply with both paragraphs 1.E.1 through 1.E.7 and any additional terms imposed by the copyright holder. Additional terms will be linked to the Project Gutenberg-tm License for all works posted with the permission of the copyright holder found at the beginning of this work. 1.E.4. Do not unlink or detach or remove the full Project Gutenberg-tm License terms from this work, or any files containing a part of this work or any other work associated with Project Gutenberg-tm. 1.E.5. Do not copy, display, perform, distribute or redistribute this electronic work, or any part of this electronic work, without prominently displaying the sentence set forth in paragraph 1.E.1 with active links or immediate access to the full terms of the Project Gutenberg-tm License. 1.E.6. You may convert to and distribute this work in any binary, compressed, marked up, nonproprietary or proprietary form, including any word processing or hypertext form. However, if you provide access to or distribute copies of a Project Gutenberg-tm work in a format other than "Plain Vanilla ASCII" or other format used in the official version posted on the official Project Gutenberg-tm web site (www.gutenberg.org), you must, at no additional cost, fee or expense to the user, provide a copy, a means of exporting a copy, or a means of obtaining a copy upon request, of the work in its original "Plain Vanilla ASCII" or other form. Any alternate format must include the full Project Gutenberg-tm License as specified in paragraph 1.E.1. 1.E.7. Do not charge a fee for access to, viewing, displaying, performing, copying or distributing any Project Gutenberg-tm works unless you comply with paragraph 1.E.8 or 1.E.9. 1.E.8. You may charge a reasonable fee for copies of or providing access to or distributing Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works provided that - You pay a royalty fee of 20% of the gross profits you derive from the use of Project Gutenberg-tm works calculated using the method you already use to calculate your applicable taxes. The fee is owed to the owner of the Project Gutenberg-tm trademark, but he has agreed to donate royalties under this paragraph to the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation. Royalty payments must be paid within 60 days following each date on which you prepare (or are legally required to prepare) your periodic tax returns. Royalty payments should be clearly marked as such and sent to the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation at the address specified in Section 4, "Information about donations to the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation." - You provide a full refund of any money paid by a user who notifies you in writing (or by e-mail) within 30 days of receipt that s/he does not agree to the terms of the full Project Gutenberg-tm License. You must require such a user to return or destroy all copies of the works possessed in a physical medium and discontinue all use of and all access to other copies of Project Gutenberg-tm works. - You provide, in accordance with paragraph 1.F.3, a full refund of any money paid for a work or a replacement copy, if a defect in the electronic work is discovered and reported to you within 90 days of receipt of the work. - You comply with all other terms of this agreement for free distribution of Project Gutenberg-tm works. 1.E.9. If you wish to charge a fee or distribute a Project Gutenberg-tm electronic work or group of works on different terms than are set forth in this agreement, you must obtain permission in writing from both the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation and Michael Hart, the owner of the Project Gutenberg-tm trademark. Contact the Foundation as set forth in Section 3 below. 1.F. 1.F.1. Project Gutenberg volunteers and employees expend considerable effort to identify, do copyright research on, transcribe and proofread public domain works in creating the Project Gutenberg-tm collection. Despite these efforts, Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works, and the medium on which they may be stored, may contain "Defects," such as, but not limited to, incomplete, inaccurate or corrupt data, transcription errors, a copyright or other intellectual property infringement, a defective or damaged disk or other medium, a computer virus, or computer codes that damage or cannot be read by your equipment. 1.F.2. LIMITED WARRANTY, DISCLAIMER OF DAMAGES - Except for the "Right of Replacement or Refund" described in paragraph 1.F.3, the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation, the owner of the Project Gutenberg-tm trademark, and any other party distributing a Project Gutenberg-tm electronic work under this agreement, disclaim all liability to you for damages, costs and expenses, including legal fees. YOU AGREE THAT YOU HAVE NO REMEDIES FOR NEGLIGENCE, STRICT LIABILITY, BREACH OF WARRANTY OR BREACH OF CONTRACT EXCEPT THOSE PROVIDED IN PARAGRAPH F3. YOU AGREE THAT THE FOUNDATION, THE TRADEMARK OWNER, AND ANY DISTRIBUTOR UNDER THIS AGREEMENT WILL NOT BE LIABLE TO YOU FOR ACTUAL, DIRECT, INDIRECT, CONSEQUENTIAL, PUNITIVE OR INCIDENTAL DAMAGES EVEN IF YOU GIVE NOTICE OF THE POSSIBILITY OF SUCH DAMAGE. 1.F.3. LIMITED RIGHT OF REPLACEMENT OR REFUND - If you discover a defect in this electronic work within 90 days of receiving it, you can receive a refund of the money (if any) you paid for it by sending a written explanation to the person you received the work from. If you received the work on a physical medium, you must return the medium with your written explanation. The person or entity that provided you with the defective work may elect to provide a replacement copy in lieu of a refund. If you received the work electronically, the person or entity providing it to you may choose to give you a second opportunity to receive the work electronically in lieu of a refund. If the second copy is also defective, you may demand a refund in writing without further opportunities to fix the problem. 1.F.4. Except for the limited right of replacement or refund set forth in paragraph 1.F.3, this work is provided to you 'AS-IS' WITH NO OTHER WARRANTIES OF ANY KIND, EXPRESS OR IMPLIED, INCLUDING BUT NOT LIMITED TO WARRANTIES OF MERCHANTIBILITY OR FITNESS FOR ANY PURPOSE. 1.F.5. Some states do not allow disclaimers of certain implied warranties or the exclusion or limitation of certain types of damages. If any disclaimer or limitation set forth in this agreement violates the law of the state applicable to this agreement, the agreement shall be interpreted to make the maximum disclaimer or limitation permitted by the applicable state law. The invalidity or unenforceability of any provision of this agreement shall not void the remaining provisions. 1.F.6. INDEMNITY - You agree to indemnify and hold the Foundation, the trademark owner, any agent or employee of the Foundation, anyone providing copies of Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works in accordance with this agreement, and any volunteers associated with the production, promotion and distribution of Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works, harmless from all liability, costs and expenses, including legal fees, that arise directly or indirectly from any of the following which you do or cause to occur: (a) distribution of this or any Project Gutenberg-tm work, (b) alteration, modification, or additions or deletions to any Project Gutenberg-tm work, and (c) any Defect you cause. Section 2. Information about the Mission of Project Gutenberg-tm Project Gutenberg-tm is synonymous with the free distribution of electronic works in formats readable by the widest variety of computers including obsolete, old, middle-aged and new computers. It exists because of the efforts of hundreds of volunteers and donations from people in all walks of life. Volunteers and financial support to provide volunteers with the assistance they need, is critical to reaching Project Gutenberg-tm's goals and ensuring that the Project Gutenberg-tm collection will remain freely available for generations to come. In 2001, the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation was created to provide a secure and permanent future for Project Gutenberg-tm and future generations. To learn more about the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation and how your efforts and donations can help, see Sections 3 and 4 and the Foundation web page at http://www.pglaf.org. Section 3. Information about the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation The Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation is a non profit 501(c)(3) educational corporation organized under the laws of the state of Mississippi and granted tax exempt status by the Internal Revenue Service. The Foundation's EIN or federal tax identification number is 64-6221541. Its 501(c)(3) letter is posted at http://pglaf.org/fundraising. Contributions to the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation are tax deductible to the full extent permitted by U.S. federal laws and your state's laws. The Foundation's principal office is located at 4557 Melan Dr. S. Fairbanks, AK, 99712., but its volunteers and employees are scattered throughout numerous locations. Its business office is located at 809 North 1500 West, Salt Lake City, UT 84116, (801) 596-1887, email [email protected]. Email contact links and up to date contact information can be found at the Foundation's web site and official page at http://pglaf.org For additional contact information: Dr. Gregory B. Newby

heard

How many times the word 'heard' appears in the text?

you to understand. No, your knowledge is not corrupt, it would not carry with it the same seeds of disaster as that of Those Others. But it would be too easy for us to accept, to walk a softer road, to forget what we have so far won. Just give us time--" Raf cupped his palms over his watering eyes. He wanted badly to see clearly the other's face, to be able to read his expression. Yet it seemed that somehow he _was_ able to see that sober face, as sincere as the words in his mind. "You will come again," Dalgard said with certainty. "And we shall be waiting because you, Raf Kurbi, made it possible." There was something so solemn about that that Raf looked up in surprise. "When you destroyed the core of Those Other's holding, you gave us our chance. For had you not done that we, the mermen, the other harmless, happy creatures of this world, would have been wiped out. There would be no new beginning here, only a dark and horrible end." Raf blinked; to his surprise that other figure standing in the direct sunlight did not waver, and beyond the proudly held head was a stretch of turquoise sky. He could see the color! "Yes, you shall see with your eyes--and with your mind," now Dalgard spoke aloud. "And if the Spirit which rules all space is kind, you shall return to your own people. For you have served His cause well." Then, as if he were embarrassed by his own solemnity, Dalgard ended with a most prosaic inquiry: "Would you like shellfish for eating?" Moments later, wading out into the water-swirled sand, his boots kicked off, his toes feeling for the elusive shelled creatures no one could see, Raf felt happier, freer than he could ever remember having been before. It was going to be all right. He could _see_! He would find the ship! He laughed aloud at nothing and heard an answering chuckle and then a whoop of triumph from the scout stooping to claw one of their prey out of hiding. It was after they had eaten that Dalgard asked another question, one which did not seem important to Raf. "You have a close friend among the crew of your ship?" Raf hesitated. Now that he was obliged to consider the point, did he have any friends--let alone a close one--among the crew of the _RS 10_? Certainly he did not claim Wonstead who had shared his quarters--he honestly did not care if he never saw him again. The officers, the experts such as Lablet--quickly face and character of each swept through his mind and was as swiftly discarded. There was Soriki--He could not claim the com-tech as any special friend, but at least during their period together among the aliens he had come to know him better. Now, as if Dalgard had read his mind--and he probably had, thought Raf with a flash of the old resentment--he had another question. "And what was he--is he like?" Though the pilot could see little reason for this he answered as best he could, trying to build first a physical picture of the com-tech and then doing a little guessing as to what lay under the other's space-burned skin. Dalgard lay on his back, gazing up into the blue-green sky. Yet Raf knew that he was intent on every word. A merman padded up, settled down cross-legged beside the scout, as if he too were enthralled by the pilot's halting description of a man he might never see again. Then a second of the sea people came and a third, until Raf felt that some sort of a noiseless council was in progress. His words trailed away, and then Dalgard offered an explanation. "It will take us many, many days to reach the place where your ship is. And before we are able to complete that journey your friends may be gone. So we shall try something else--with your aid." Raf fingered the little bundle of his possessions. Even his helmet with its com phone was missing. "No," again Dalgard read his mind. "Your machines are of no use to you now. We shall try _our_ way." "How?" Wild thoughts of a big signal fire--But how could that be sighted across a mountain range. Of some sort of an improvised com unit-- "I said _our_ way." There was a smile on Dalgard's face, visible to Raf's slowly clearing vision. "We shall provide another kind of machine, and these"--he waved at the mermen--"will give us the power, or so we hope. Lie here," he gestured to the sand beside him, "and think only of your friend in the ship, in his natural surroundings. Try to hold that picture constant in your mind, letting no other thought trouble it." "Do you mean--send a message to him mentally!" Raf's reply was half protest. "Did I not so reach you when we were in the city--even before I knew of you as an individual?" the scout reminded him. "And such messages are doubly possible when they are sent from friend to friend." "But we were close then." "That is why--" again Dalgard indicated the mermen. "For them this is the natural means of communication. They will pick up your reaching thought, amplify it with their power, beam it north. Since your friend deals with matters of communication, let us hope that he will be sensitive to this method." Raf was only half convinced that it might work But he remembered how Dalgard had established contact with him, before, as the scout had pointed out, they had met. It was that voiceless cry for aid which had pulled him into this adventure in the first place. It was only fitting that something of the same process give _him_ help in return. Obediently he stretched out on the sand and closed his dim eyes, trying to picture Soriki in the small cabin which held the com, slouched in his bucket seat, his deceptive posture that of a lax idler, as he had seen him so many times. Soriki--his broad face with its flat cheekbones, its wide cheerful mouth, its heavy-lidded eyes. And having fixed Soriki's face, he tried to believe that he was now confronting the com-tech, speaking directly to him. "Come--come and get me--south--seashore--Soriki come and get me!" The words formed a kind of chant, a chant aimed at that familiar face in its familiar surroundings. "South--come and get me--" Raf struggled to think only of that, to allow nothing to break through that chant or disturb his picture of the scene he had called from memory. How long that attempt at communication lasted the pilot could not tell, for somehow he slipped from the deep concentration into sleep, dreamless and untroubled, from which he awoke with the befogged feeling that something important had happened. But had he gotten through? The ring of mermen was gone, and it was dawn, gray, chill with the forewarnings of rain in the air. He was reassured because he was certain that in spite of the gloom his sight was a fraction clearer than it had been the day before. But had they gotten through? As he arose, brushing the sand from him, he saw the scout splashing out of the sea, a fish impaled on his spear. "Did we get through?" Raf blurted out. "Since your friend cannot reply with the mind touch, we do not know. But later we shall try again." To Raf's peering gaze Dalgard's face had a drawn, gaunt look as if he had been at hard labor during the hours just past. He walked up the beach slowly, without the springing step Raf had come to associate with him. As he settled down to gut the fish with one of the bone knives, the scout repeated, "We can try again--!" Half an hour later, as the rain swept in from the sea, Raf knew that they would not have to try. His head went up, his face eager. He had known that sound too long and too well ever to mistake it--the drone of a flitter motor cutting through the swish of the falling water. Some trick of the cliffs behind them must be magnifying and projecting the sound, for he could not sight the machine. But it was coming. He whirled to Dalgard, only to see that the other was on his feet and had taken up his spear. "It is the flitter! Soriki heard--they're coming!" Raf hastened to assure him. For the last time he saw Dalgard's slow, warm smile, clearer than he had ever seen it before. Then the scout turned and trotted away, toward a fringing rock wall. Before he dropped out of sight behind that barrier he raised the spear in salute. "Swift and fortunate voyaging!" He gave the farewell of Homeport. Then Raf understood. The colonist meant just what he had said: he wanted no contact with the space ship. To Raf he had owed a debt and now that was paid. But the time was not yet when the men of Astra and the men of Terra should meet. A hundred years from now perhaps--or a thousand--but not yet. And remembering what had summoned the flitter winging toward him, Raf drew a deep breath. What would the men of Astra accomplish in a hundred years? What could those of Terra do to match them in knowledge? It was a challenge, and he alone knew just how much of a challenge. Homeport must remain his own secret. He had been guided to this place, saved by the mermen alone. Dalgard and his people must not exist as far as the crew of the _RS 10_ were concerned. For the last time he experienced the intimacy of the mind touch. "That is it--brother!" Then the sensation was gone as the black blot of the flitter buzzed out of the clouds. From behind the rocks Dalgard watched the pilot enter the strange machine. For a single moment he had an impulse to shout, to run forward, to surrender to his desire to see the others, the ship which had brought them through space and would, they confidently believed, take them back to the Terra he knew only as a legend of the past. But he mastered that desire. He had been right. The road had already forked and there was no going back. He must carry this secret all the rest of his life--he must be strong-willed enough so that Homeport would never know. Time--give them time to be what they could be. Then in a hundred years--or a thousand--But not yet! * * * * * "Nobody today is telling better stories of straight-forward interstellar adventure." --_New York Herald-Tribune_ When Raf Kurbi's Terran spaceship burst into unexplored skies of the far planet Astra and was immediately made welcome by the natives of a once-mighty metropolis, Kurbi was unaware of three vital things: One was that Astra already harbored an Earth colony--descended from refugees from the world of the previous century. Two was that these men and women were facing the greatest danger of their existence from a new outburst of the inhuman fiends who had once tyrannized Astra. Three was that the natives who were buying Kurbi's science know-how were those very fiends--and their intentions were implacably deadly for all humans, whether Earth born or STAR BORN. _It's an Andre Norton space adventure--and therefore the tops in its field!_ * * * * * Quotes from the reviews: "All science-fiction fans will thrill to these new adventures created by Andre Norton.... All who enjoy a good adventure about the unknown parts of our galaxy will find this an enchanting story." --_Jackson _(_Tenn._) _Sun_ "Superb science-fiction." --_Montgomery Advertiser_ "Andre Norton adds another star to her literary laurels." --_Cleveland Press_ "A good, clearly thought-out story." --_New York Times_ "Exciting and adventure-laden." --_Library Journal_ "Suspense and excitement.... A storyteller of the first class, this is one of her best." --_Fantasy & Science Fiction_ * * * * * NOW AVAILABLE AGAIN! PERRY RHODAN 95 each #1 Enterprise Stardust Scheer & Ernsting #2 The Radiant Dome Scheer & Ernsting #3 Galactic Alarm Mahr & Shols #4 Invasion from Space Ernsting & Mahr #5 The Vega Sector Scheer & Mahr #6 Secret of the Time Vault Darlton #7 Fortress of the Six Moons Scheer #8 The Galactic Riddle Darlton #9 Quest through Space and Time Darlton #10 The Ghosts of Gol Mahr #11 Planet of the Dying Sun Mahr #12 Rebels of Tuglan Darlton #13 The Immortal Unknown Darlton #14 Venus in Danger Mahr #15 Escape To Venus Mahr #16 Secret Barrier X Shols #17 The Venus Trap Mahr #18 Menace of the Mutant Master Darlton #19 Mutants vs. Mutants Darlton #20 The Thrall of Hypno Darlton _Available wherever paperbacks an sold or use this coupon._ * * * * * ace books, (Dept. MM) Box 576, Times Square Station New York, N.Y. 10036 Please send me titles checked above. I enclose $.................. Add 25 handling fee per copy. Name.................................................... Address................................................. City...................... State............ Zip........ * * * * * ANDRE NORTON Android at Arms $1.25 Beast Master $1.25 Breed to Come $1.25 Catseye $1.25 The Crossroads Of Time $1.25 Dark Piper $1.25 Daybreak 2250 A.D. $1.25 Defiant Agents $1.25 Dragon Magic $1.25 Dread Companion $1.25 Exiles of the Stars $1.25 Eye of the Monster $1.25 Forerunner Foray $1.50 Galactic Derelict $1.25 High Sorcery $1.25 Huon of the Horn $1.25 Ice Crown $1.25 Judgment on Janus $1.25 Key Out of Time $1.25 The Last Planet $1.25 Lord of Thunder $1.25 Moon of Three Rings $1.25 Night of Masks $1.25 Operation Time Search $1.25 Ordeal In Otherwhere $1.25 _Available wherever paperbacks are sold or use this coupon._ * * * * * ace books, (Dept. MM) Box 576, Times Square Station New York. N.Y. 10036 Please send me titles checked above. I enclose $................ Add 25 handling fee per copy. Name................................................ Address.......................................... City............... State........... Zip......... * * * * * ANDRE NORTON $1.25 each Plague Ship Postmarked the Stars Quest Crosstime Sargasso of Space Sea Seige Secret of the Lost Race. Shadow Hawk The Sioux Spaceman Sorceress of Witch World Star Born Star Gate Star Guard Star Hunter & Voodoo Planet The Stars are Ours Storm Over Warlock Three Against the WitchWorld The Time Traders Uncharted Stars Victory on Janus Warlock of the Witch World Web of the Witch World Witch World The X Factor Year Of The Unicorn The Zero Stone _Available wherever paperbacks are sold or use this coupon._ * * * * * ace books, (Dept. MM) Box 576, Times Square Station New York, N.Y. 10036 Please send me titles checked above. I enclose $............... Add 25 handling fee per copy. Name................................................... Address................................................. City...................... State............ Zip........ End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Star Born, by Andre Norton *** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK STAR BORN *** ***** This file should be named 18458-8.txt or 18458-8.zip ***** This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: http://www.gutenberg.org/1/8/4/5/18458/ Produced by Jason Isbell, Greg Weeks, Sankar Viswanathan, and the Online Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions will be renamed. Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation (and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without permission and without paying copyright royalties. Special rules, set forth in the General Terms of Use part of this license, apply to copying and distributing Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works to protect the PROJECT GUTENBERG-tm concept and trademark. Project Gutenberg is a registered trademark, and may not be used if you charge for the eBooks, unless you receive specific permission. If you do not charge anything for copies of this eBook, complying with the rules is very easy. You may use this eBook for nearly any purpose such as creation of derivative works, reports, performances and research. They may be modified and printed and given away--you may do practically ANYTHING with public domain eBooks. Redistribution is subject to the trademark license, especially commercial redistribution. *** START: FULL LICENSE *** THE FULL PROJECT GUTENBERG LICENSE PLEASE READ THIS BEFORE YOU DISTRIBUTE OR USE THIS WORK To protect the Project Gutenberg-tm mission of promoting the free distribution of electronic works, by using or distributing this work (or any other work associated in any way with the phrase "Project Gutenberg"), you agree to comply with all the terms of the Full Project Gutenberg-tm License (available with this file or online at http://gutenberg.org/license). Section 1. General Terms of Use and Redistributing Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works 1.A. By reading or using any part of this Project Gutenberg-tm electronic work, you indicate that you have read, understand, agree to and accept all the terms of this license and intellectual property (trademark/copyright) agreement. If you do not agree to abide by all the terms of this agreement, you must cease using and return or destroy all copies of Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works in your possession. If you paid a fee for obtaining a copy of or access to a Project Gutenberg-tm electronic work and you do not agree to be bound by the terms of this agreement, you may obtain a refund from the person or entity to whom you paid the fee as set forth in paragraph 1.E.8. 1.B. "Project Gutenberg" is a registered trademark. It may only be used on or associated in any way with an electronic work by people who agree to be bound by the terms of this agreement. There are a few things that you can do with most Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works even without complying with the full terms of this agreement. See paragraph 1.C below. There are a lot of things you can do with Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works if you follow the terms of this agreement and help preserve free future access to Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works. See paragraph 1.E below. 1.C. The Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation ("the Foundation" or PGLAF), owns a compilation copyright in the collection of Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works. Nearly all the individual works in the collection are in the public domain in the United States. If an individual work is in the public domain in the United States and you are located in the United States, we do not claim a right to prevent you from copying, distributing, performing, displaying or creating derivative works based on the work as long as all references to Project Gutenberg are removed. Of course, we hope that you will support the Project Gutenberg-tm mission of promoting free access to electronic works by freely sharing Project Gutenberg-tm works in compliance with the terms of this agreement for keeping the Project Gutenberg-tm name associated with the work. You can easily comply with the terms of this agreement by keeping this work in the same format with its attached full Project Gutenberg-tm License when you share it without charge with others. 1.D. The copyright laws of the place where you are located also govern what you can do with this work. Copyright laws in most countries are in a constant state of change. If you are outside the United States, check the laws of your country in addition to the terms of this agreement before downloading, copying, displaying, performing, distributing or creating derivative works based on this work or any other Project Gutenberg-tm work. The Foundation makes no representations concerning the copyright status of any work in any country outside the United States. 1.E. Unless you have removed all references to Project Gutenberg: 1.E.1. The following sentence, with active links to, or other immediate access to, the full Project Gutenberg-tm License must appear prominently whenever any copy of a Project Gutenberg-tm work (any work on which the phrase "Project Gutenberg" appears, or with which the phrase "Project Gutenberg" is associated) is accessed, displayed, performed, viewed, copied or distributed: This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org 1.E.2. If an individual Project Gutenberg-tm electronic work is derived from the public domain (does not contain a notice indicating that it is posted with permission of the copyright holder), the work can be copied and distributed to anyone in the United States without paying any fees or charges. If you are redistributing or providing access to a work with the phrase "Project Gutenberg" associated with or appearing on the work, you must comply either with the requirements of paragraphs 1.E.1 through 1.E.7 or obtain permission for the use of the work and the Project Gutenberg-tm trademark as set forth in paragraphs 1.E.8 or 1.E.9. 1.E.3. If an individual Project Gutenberg-tm electronic work is posted with the permission of the copyright holder, your use and distribution must comply with both paragraphs 1.E.1 through 1.E.7 and any additional terms imposed by the copyright holder. Additional terms will be linked to the Project Gutenberg-tm License for all works posted with the permission of the copyright holder found at the beginning of this work. 1.E.4. Do not unlink or detach or remove the full Project Gutenberg-tm License terms from this work, or any files containing a part of this work or any other work associated with Project Gutenberg-tm. 1.E.5. Do not copy, display, perform, distribute or redistribute this electronic work, or any part of this electronic work, without prominently displaying the sentence set forth in paragraph 1.E.1 with active links or immediate access to the full terms of the Project Gutenberg-tm License. 1.E.6. You may convert to and distribute this work in any binary, compressed, marked up, nonproprietary or proprietary form, including any word processing or hypertext form. However, if you provide access to or distribute copies of a Project Gutenberg-tm work in a format other than "Plain Vanilla ASCII" or other format used in the official version posted on the official Project Gutenberg-tm web site (www.gutenberg.org), you must, at no additional cost, fee or expense to the user, provide a copy, a means of exporting a copy, or a means of obtaining a copy upon request, of the work in its original "Plain Vanilla ASCII" or other form. Any alternate format must include the full Project Gutenberg-tm License as specified in paragraph 1.E.1. 1.E.7. Do not charge a fee for access to, viewing, displaying, performing, copying or distributing any Project Gutenberg-tm works unless you comply with paragraph 1.E.8 or 1.E.9. 1.E.8. You may charge a reasonable fee for copies of or providing access to or distributing Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works provided that - You pay a royalty fee of 20% of the gross profits you derive from the use of Project Gutenberg-tm works calculated using the method you already use to calculate your applicable taxes. The fee is owed to the owner of the Project Gutenberg-tm trademark, but he has agreed to donate royalties under this paragraph to the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation. Royalty payments must be paid within 60 days following each date on which you prepare (or are legally required to prepare) your periodic tax returns. Royalty payments should be clearly marked as such and sent to the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation at the address specified in Section 4, "Information about donations to the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation." - You provide a full refund of any money paid by a user who notifies you in writing (or by e-mail) within 30 days of receipt that s/he does not agree to the terms of the full Project Gutenberg-tm License. You must require such a user to return or destroy all copies of the works possessed in a physical medium and discontinue all use of and all access to other copies of Project Gutenberg-tm works. - You provide, in accordance with paragraph 1.F.3, a full refund of any money paid for a work or a replacement copy, if a defect in the electronic work is discovered and reported to you within 90 days of receipt of the work. - You comply with all other terms of this agreement for free distribution of Project Gutenberg-tm works. 1.E.9. If you wish to charge a fee or distribute a Project Gutenberg-tm electronic work or group of works on different terms than are set forth in this agreement, you must obtain permission in writing from both the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation and Michael Hart, the owner of the Project Gutenberg-tm trademark. Contact the Foundation as set forth in Section 3 below. 1.F. 1.F.1. Project Gutenberg volunteers and employees expend considerable effort to identify, do copyright research on, transcribe and proofread public domain works in creating the Project Gutenberg-tm collection. Despite these efforts, Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works, and the medium on which they may be stored, may contain "Defects," such as, but not limited to, incomplete, inaccurate or corrupt data, transcription errors, a copyright or other intellectual property infringement, a defective or damaged disk or other medium, a computer virus, or computer codes that damage or cannot be read by your equipment. 1.F.2. LIMITED WARRANTY, DISCLAIMER OF DAMAGES - Except for the "Right of Replacement or Refund" described in paragraph 1.F.3, the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation, the owner of the Project Gutenberg-tm trademark, and any other party distributing a Project Gutenberg-tm electronic work under this agreement, disclaim all liability to you for damages, costs and expenses, including legal fees. YOU AGREE THAT YOU HAVE NO REMEDIES FOR NEGLIGENCE, STRICT LIABILITY, BREACH OF WARRANTY OR BREACH OF CONTRACT EXCEPT THOSE PROVIDED IN PARAGRAPH F3. YOU AGREE THAT THE FOUNDATION, THE TRADEMARK OWNER, AND ANY DISTRIBUTOR UNDER THIS AGREEMENT WILL NOT BE LIABLE TO YOU FOR ACTUAL, DIRECT, INDIRECT, CONSEQUENTIAL, PUNITIVE OR INCIDENTAL DAMAGES EVEN IF YOU GIVE NOTICE OF THE POSSIBILITY OF SUCH DAMAGE. 1.F.3. LIMITED RIGHT OF REPLACEMENT OR REFUND - If you discover a defect in this electronic work within 90 days of receiving it, you can receive a refund of the money (if any) you paid for it by sending a written explanation to the person you received the work from. If you received the work on a physical medium, you must return the medium with your written explanation. The person or entity that provided you with the defective work may elect to provide a replacement copy in lieu of a refund. If you received the work electronically, the person or entity providing it to you may choose to give you a second opportunity to receive the work electronically in lieu of a refund. If the second copy is also defective, you may demand a refund in writing without further opportunities to fix the problem. 1.F.4. Except for the limited right of replacement or refund set forth in paragraph 1.F.3, this work is provided to you 'AS-IS' WITH NO OTHER WARRANTIES OF ANY KIND, EXPRESS OR IMPLIED, INCLUDING BUT NOT LIMITED TO WARRANTIES OF MERCHANTIBILITY OR FITNESS FOR ANY PURPOSE. 1.F.5. Some states do not allow disclaimers of certain implied warranties or the exclusion or limitation of certain types of damages. If any disclaimer or limitation set forth in this agreement violates the law of the state applicable to this agreement, the agreement shall be interpreted to make the maximum disclaimer or limitation permitted by the applicable state law. The invalidity or unenforceability of any provision of this agreement shall not void the remaining provisions. 1.F.6. INDEMNITY - You agree to indemnify and hold the Foundation, the trademark owner, any agent or employee of the Foundation, anyone providing copies of Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works in accordance with this agreement, and any volunteers associated with the production, promotion and distribution of Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works, harmless from all liability, costs and expenses, including legal fees, that arise directly or indirectly from any of the following which you do or cause to occur: (a) distribution of this or any Project Gutenberg-tm work, (b) alteration, modification, or additions or deletions to any Project Gutenberg-tm work, and (c) any Defect you cause. Section 2. Information about the Mission of Project Gutenberg-tm Project Gutenberg-tm is synonymous with the free distribution of electronic works in formats readable by the widest variety of computers including obsolete, old, middle-aged and new computers. It exists because of the efforts of hundreds of volunteers and donations from people in all walks of life. Volunteers and financial support to provide volunteers with the assistance they need, is critical to reaching Project Gutenberg-tm's goals and ensuring that the Project Gutenberg-tm collection will remain freely available for generations to come. In 2001, the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation was created to provide a secure and permanent future for Project Gutenberg-tm and future generations. To learn more about the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation and how your efforts and donations can help, see Sections 3 and 4 and the Foundation web page at http://www.pglaf.org. Section 3. Information about the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation The Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation is a non profit 501(c)(3) educational corporation organized under the laws of the state of Mississippi and granted tax exempt status by the Internal Revenue Service. The Foundation's EIN or federal tax identification number is 64-6221541. Its 501(c)(3) letter is posted at http://pglaf.org/fundraising. Contributions to the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation are tax deductible to the full extent permitted by U.S. federal laws and your state's laws. The Foundation's principal office is located at 4557 Melan Dr. S. Fairbanks, AK, 99712., but its volunteers and employees are scattered throughout numerous locations. Its business office is located at 809 North 1500 West, Salt Lake City, UT 84116, (801) 596-1887, email [email protected]. Email contact links and up to date contact information can be found at the Foundation's web site and official page at http://pglaf.org For additional contact information: Dr. Gregory B. Newby

own

How many times the word 'own' appears in the text?

you to understand. No, your knowledge is not corrupt, it would not carry with it the same seeds of disaster as that of Those Others. But it would be too easy for us to accept, to walk a softer road, to forget what we have so far won. Just give us time--" Raf cupped his palms over his watering eyes. He wanted badly to see clearly the other's face, to be able to read his expression. Yet it seemed that somehow he _was_ able to see that sober face, as sincere as the words in his mind. "You will come again," Dalgard said with certainty. "And we shall be waiting because you, Raf Kurbi, made it possible." There was something so solemn about that that Raf looked up in surprise. "When you destroyed the core of Those Other's holding, you gave us our chance. For had you not done that we, the mermen, the other harmless, happy creatures of this world, would have been wiped out. There would be no new beginning here, only a dark and horrible end." Raf blinked; to his surprise that other figure standing in the direct sunlight did not waver, and beyond the proudly held head was a stretch of turquoise sky. He could see the color! "Yes, you shall see with your eyes--and with your mind," now Dalgard spoke aloud. "And if the Spirit which rules all space is kind, you shall return to your own people. For you have served His cause well." Then, as if he were embarrassed by his own solemnity, Dalgard ended with a most prosaic inquiry: "Would you like shellfish for eating?" Moments later, wading out into the water-swirled sand, his boots kicked off, his toes feeling for the elusive shelled creatures no one could see, Raf felt happier, freer than he could ever remember having been before. It was going to be all right. He could _see_! He would find the ship! He laughed aloud at nothing and heard an answering chuckle and then a whoop of triumph from the scout stooping to claw one of their prey out of hiding. It was after they had eaten that Dalgard asked another question, one which did not seem important to Raf. "You have a close friend among the crew of your ship?" Raf hesitated. Now that he was obliged to consider the point, did he have any friends--let alone a close one--among the crew of the _RS 10_? Certainly he did not claim Wonstead who had shared his quarters--he honestly did not care if he never saw him again. The officers, the experts such as Lablet--quickly face and character of each swept through his mind and was as swiftly discarded. There was Soriki--He could not claim the com-tech as any special friend, but at least during their period together among the aliens he had come to know him better. Now, as if Dalgard had read his mind--and he probably had, thought Raf with a flash of the old resentment--he had another question. "And what was he--is he like?" Though the pilot could see little reason for this he answered as best he could, trying to build first a physical picture of the com-tech and then doing a little guessing as to what lay under the other's space-burned skin. Dalgard lay on his back, gazing up into the blue-green sky. Yet Raf knew that he was intent on every word. A merman padded up, settled down cross-legged beside the scout, as if he too were enthralled by the pilot's halting description of a man he might never see again. Then a second of the sea people came and a third, until Raf felt that some sort of a noiseless council was in progress. His words trailed away, and then Dalgard offered an explanation. "It will take us many, many days to reach the place where your ship is. And before we are able to complete that journey your friends may be gone. So we shall try something else--with your aid." Raf fingered the little bundle of his possessions. Even his helmet with its com phone was missing. "No," again Dalgard read his mind. "Your machines are of no use to you now. We shall try _our_ way." "How?" Wild thoughts of a big signal fire--But how could that be sighted across a mountain range. Of some sort of an improvised com unit-- "I said _our_ way." There was a smile on Dalgard's face, visible to Raf's slowly clearing vision. "We shall provide another kind of machine, and these"--he waved at the mermen--"will give us the power, or so we hope. Lie here," he gestured to the sand beside him, "and think only of your friend in the ship, in his natural surroundings. Try to hold that picture constant in your mind, letting no other thought trouble it." "Do you mean--send a message to him mentally!" Raf's reply was half protest. "Did I not so reach you when we were in the city--even before I knew of you as an individual?" the scout reminded him. "And such messages are doubly possible when they are sent from friend to friend." "But we were close then." "That is why--" again Dalgard indicated the mermen. "For them this is the natural means of communication. They will pick up your reaching thought, amplify it with their power, beam it north. Since your friend deals with matters of communication, let us hope that he will be sensitive to this method." Raf was only half convinced that it might work But he remembered how Dalgard had established contact with him, before, as the scout had pointed out, they had met. It was that voiceless cry for aid which had pulled him into this adventure in the first place. It was only fitting that something of the same process give _him_ help in return. Obediently he stretched out on the sand and closed his dim eyes, trying to picture Soriki in the small cabin which held the com, slouched in his bucket seat, his deceptive posture that of a lax idler, as he had seen him so many times. Soriki--his broad face with its flat cheekbones, its wide cheerful mouth, its heavy-lidded eyes. And having fixed Soriki's face, he tried to believe that he was now confronting the com-tech, speaking directly to him. "Come--come and get me--south--seashore--Soriki come and get me!" The words formed a kind of chant, a chant aimed at that familiar face in its familiar surroundings. "South--come and get me--" Raf struggled to think only of that, to allow nothing to break through that chant or disturb his picture of the scene he had called from memory. How long that attempt at communication lasted the pilot could not tell, for somehow he slipped from the deep concentration into sleep, dreamless and untroubled, from which he awoke with the befogged feeling that something important had happened. But had he gotten through? The ring of mermen was gone, and it was dawn, gray, chill with the forewarnings of rain in the air. He was reassured because he was certain that in spite of the gloom his sight was a fraction clearer than it had been the day before. But had they gotten through? As he arose, brushing the sand from him, he saw the scout splashing out of the sea, a fish impaled on his spear. "Did we get through?" Raf blurted out. "Since your friend cannot reply with the mind touch, we do not know. But later we shall try again." To Raf's peering gaze Dalgard's face had a drawn, gaunt look as if he had been at hard labor during the hours just past. He walked up the beach slowly, without the springing step Raf had come to associate with him. As he settled down to gut the fish with one of the bone knives, the scout repeated, "We can try again--!" Half an hour later, as the rain swept in from the sea, Raf knew that they would not have to try. His head went up, his face eager. He had known that sound too long and too well ever to mistake it--the drone of a flitter motor cutting through the swish of the falling water. Some trick of the cliffs behind them must be magnifying and projecting the sound, for he could not sight the machine. But it was coming. He whirled to Dalgard, only to see that the other was on his feet and had taken up his spear. "It is the flitter! Soriki heard--they're coming!" Raf hastened to assure him. For the last time he saw Dalgard's slow, warm smile, clearer than he had ever seen it before. Then the scout turned and trotted away, toward a fringing rock wall. Before he dropped out of sight behind that barrier he raised the spear in salute. "Swift and fortunate voyaging!" He gave the farewell of Homeport. Then Raf understood. The colonist meant just what he had said: he wanted no contact with the space ship. To Raf he had owed a debt and now that was paid. But the time was not yet when the men of Astra and the men of Terra should meet. A hundred years from now perhaps--or a thousand--but not yet. And remembering what had summoned the flitter winging toward him, Raf drew a deep breath. What would the men of Astra accomplish in a hundred years? What could those of Terra do to match them in knowledge? It was a challenge, and he alone knew just how much of a challenge. Homeport must remain his own secret. He had been guided to this place, saved by the mermen alone. Dalgard and his people must not exist as far as the crew of the _RS 10_ were concerned. For the last time he experienced the intimacy of the mind touch. "That is it--brother!" Then the sensation was gone as the black blot of the flitter buzzed out of the clouds. From behind the rocks Dalgard watched the pilot enter the strange machine. For a single moment he had an impulse to shout, to run forward, to surrender to his desire to see the others, the ship which had brought them through space and would, they confidently believed, take them back to the Terra he knew only as a legend of the past. But he mastered that desire. He had been right. The road had already forked and there was no going back. He must carry this secret all the rest of his life--he must be strong-willed enough so that Homeport would never know. Time--give them time to be what they could be. Then in a hundred years--or a thousand--But not yet! * * * * * "Nobody today is telling better stories of straight-forward interstellar adventure." --_New York Herald-Tribune_ When Raf Kurbi's Terran spaceship burst into unexplored skies of the far planet Astra and was immediately made welcome by the natives of a once-mighty metropolis, Kurbi was unaware of three vital things: One was that Astra already harbored an Earth colony--descended from refugees from the world of the previous century. Two was that these men and women were facing the greatest danger of their existence from a new outburst of the inhuman fiends who had once tyrannized Astra. Three was that the natives who were buying Kurbi's science know-how were those very fiends--and their intentions were implacably deadly for all humans, whether Earth born or STAR BORN. _It's an Andre Norton space adventure--and therefore the tops in its field!_ * * * * * Quotes from the reviews: "All science-fiction fans will thrill to these new adventures created by Andre Norton.... All who enjoy a good adventure about the unknown parts of our galaxy will find this an enchanting story." --_Jackson _(_Tenn._) _Sun_ "Superb science-fiction." --_Montgomery Advertiser_ "Andre Norton adds another star to her literary laurels." --_Cleveland Press_ "A good, clearly thought-out story." --_New York Times_ "Exciting and adventure-laden." --_Library Journal_ "Suspense and excitement.... A storyteller of the first class, this is one of her best." --_Fantasy & Science Fiction_ * * * * * NOW AVAILABLE AGAIN! PERRY RHODAN 95 each #1 Enterprise Stardust Scheer & Ernsting #2 The Radiant Dome Scheer & Ernsting #3 Galactic Alarm Mahr & Shols #4 Invasion from Space Ernsting & Mahr #5 The Vega Sector Scheer & Mahr #6 Secret of the Time Vault Darlton #7 Fortress of the Six Moons Scheer #8 The Galactic Riddle Darlton #9 Quest through Space and Time Darlton #10 The Ghosts of Gol Mahr #11 Planet of the Dying Sun Mahr #12 Rebels of Tuglan Darlton #13 The Immortal Unknown Darlton #14 Venus in Danger Mahr #15 Escape To Venus Mahr #16 Secret Barrier X Shols #17 The Venus Trap Mahr #18 Menace of the Mutant Master Darlton #19 Mutants vs. Mutants Darlton #20 The Thrall of Hypno Darlton _Available wherever paperbacks an sold or use this coupon._ * * * * * ace books, (Dept. MM) Box 576, Times Square Station New York, N.Y. 10036 Please send me titles checked above. I enclose $.................. Add 25 handling fee per copy. Name.................................................... Address................................................. City...................... State............ Zip........ * * * * * ANDRE NORTON Android at Arms $1.25 Beast Master $1.25 Breed to Come $1.25 Catseye $1.25 The Crossroads Of Time $1.25 Dark Piper $1.25 Daybreak 2250 A.D. $1.25 Defiant Agents $1.25 Dragon Magic $1.25 Dread Companion $1.25 Exiles of the Stars $1.25 Eye of the Monster $1.25 Forerunner Foray $1.50 Galactic Derelict $1.25 High Sorcery $1.25 Huon of the Horn $1.25 Ice Crown $1.25 Judgment on Janus $1.25 Key Out of Time $1.25 The Last Planet $1.25 Lord of Thunder $1.25 Moon of Three Rings $1.25 Night of Masks $1.25 Operation Time Search $1.25 Ordeal In Otherwhere $1.25 _Available wherever paperbacks are sold or use this coupon._ * * * * * ace books, (Dept. MM) Box 576, Times Square Station New York. N.Y. 10036 Please send me titles checked above. I enclose $................ Add 25 handling fee per copy. Name................................................ Address.......................................... City............... State........... Zip......... * * * * * ANDRE NORTON $1.25 each Plague Ship Postmarked the Stars Quest Crosstime Sargasso of Space Sea Seige Secret of the Lost Race. Shadow Hawk The Sioux Spaceman Sorceress of Witch World Star Born Star Gate Star Guard Star Hunter & Voodoo Planet The Stars are Ours Storm Over Warlock Three Against the WitchWorld The Time Traders Uncharted Stars Victory on Janus Warlock of the Witch World Web of the Witch World Witch World The X Factor Year Of The Unicorn The Zero Stone _Available wherever paperbacks are sold or use this coupon._ * * * * * ace books, (Dept. MM) Box 576, Times Square Station New York, N.Y. 10036 Please send me titles checked above. I enclose $............... Add 25 handling fee per copy. Name................................................... Address................................................. City...................... State............ Zip........ End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Star Born, by Andre Norton *** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK STAR BORN *** ***** This file should be named 18458-8.txt or 18458-8.zip ***** This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: http://www.gutenberg.org/1/8/4/5/18458/ Produced by Jason Isbell, Greg Weeks, Sankar Viswanathan, and the Online Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions will be renamed. Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation (and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without permission and without paying copyright royalties. Special rules, set forth in the General Terms of Use part of this license, apply to copying and distributing Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works to protect the PROJECT GUTENBERG-tm concept and trademark. Project Gutenberg is a registered trademark, and may not be used if you charge for the eBooks, unless you receive specific permission. If you do not charge anything for copies of this eBook, complying with the rules is very easy. You may use this eBook for nearly any purpose such as creation of derivative works, reports, performances and research. They may be modified and printed and given away--you may do practically ANYTHING with public domain eBooks. Redistribution is subject to the trademark license, especially commercial redistribution. *** START: FULL LICENSE *** THE FULL PROJECT GUTENBERG LICENSE PLEASE READ THIS BEFORE YOU DISTRIBUTE OR USE THIS WORK To protect the Project Gutenberg-tm mission of promoting the free distribution of electronic works, by using or distributing this work (or any other work associated in any way with the phrase "Project Gutenberg"), you agree to comply with all the terms of the Full Project Gutenberg-tm License (available with this file or online at http://gutenberg.org/license). Section 1. General Terms of Use and Redistributing Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works 1.A. By reading or using any part of this Project Gutenberg-tm electronic work, you indicate that you have read, understand, agree to and accept all the terms of this license and intellectual property (trademark/copyright) agreement. If you do not agree to abide by all the terms of this agreement, you must cease using and return or destroy all copies of Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works in your possession. If you paid a fee for obtaining a copy of or access to a Project Gutenberg-tm electronic work and you do not agree to be bound by the terms of this agreement, you may obtain a refund from the person or entity to whom you paid the fee as set forth in paragraph 1.E.8. 1.B. "Project Gutenberg" is a registered trademark. It may only be used on or associated in any way with an electronic work by people who agree to be bound by the terms of this agreement. There are a few things that you can do with most Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works even without complying with the full terms of this agreement. See paragraph 1.C below. There are a lot of things you can do with Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works if you follow the terms of this agreement and help preserve free future access to Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works. See paragraph 1.E below. 1.C. The Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation ("the Foundation" or PGLAF), owns a compilation copyright in the collection of Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works. Nearly all the individual works in the collection are in the public domain in the United States. If an individual work is in the public domain in the United States and you are located in the United States, we do not claim a right to prevent you from copying, distributing, performing, displaying or creating derivative works based on the work as long as all references to Project Gutenberg are removed. Of course, we hope that you will support the Project Gutenberg-tm mission of promoting free access to electronic works by freely sharing Project Gutenberg-tm works in compliance with the terms of this agreement for keeping the Project Gutenberg-tm name associated with the work. You can easily comply with the terms of this agreement by keeping this work in the same format with its attached full Project Gutenberg-tm License when you share it without charge with others. 1.D. The copyright laws of the place where you are located also govern what you can do with this work. Copyright laws in most countries are in a constant state of change. If you are outside the United States, check the laws of your country in addition to the terms of this agreement before downloading, copying, displaying, performing, distributing or creating derivative works based on this work or any other Project Gutenberg-tm work. The Foundation makes no representations concerning the copyright status of any work in any country outside the United States. 1.E. Unless you have removed all references to Project Gutenberg: 1.E.1. The following sentence, with active links to, or other immediate access to, the full Project Gutenberg-tm License must appear prominently whenever any copy of a Project Gutenberg-tm work (any work on which the phrase "Project Gutenberg" appears, or with which the phrase "Project Gutenberg" is associated) is accessed, displayed, performed, viewed, copied or distributed: This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org 1.E.2. If an individual Project Gutenberg-tm electronic work is derived from the public domain (does not contain a notice indicating that it is posted with permission of the copyright holder), the work can be copied and distributed to anyone in the United States without paying any fees or charges. If you are redistributing or providing access to a work with the phrase "Project Gutenberg" associated with or appearing on the work, you must comply either with the requirements of paragraphs 1.E.1 through 1.E.7 or obtain permission for the use of the work and the Project Gutenberg-tm trademark as set forth in paragraphs 1.E.8 or 1.E.9. 1.E.3. If an individual Project Gutenberg-tm electronic work is posted with the permission of the copyright holder, your use and distribution must comply with both paragraphs 1.E.1 through 1.E.7 and any additional terms imposed by the copyright holder. Additional terms will be linked to the Project Gutenberg-tm License for all works posted with the permission of the copyright holder found at the beginning of this work. 1.E.4. Do not unlink or detach or remove the full Project Gutenberg-tm License terms from this work, or any files containing a part of this work or any other work associated with Project Gutenberg-tm. 1.E.5. Do not copy, display, perform, distribute or redistribute this electronic work, or any part of this electronic work, without prominently displaying the sentence set forth in paragraph 1.E.1 with active links or immediate access to the full terms of the Project Gutenberg-tm License. 1.E.6. You may convert to and distribute this work in any binary, compressed, marked up, nonproprietary or proprietary form, including any word processing or hypertext form. However, if you provide access to or distribute copies of a Project Gutenberg-tm work in a format other than "Plain Vanilla ASCII" or other format used in the official version posted on the official Project Gutenberg-tm web site (www.gutenberg.org), you must, at no additional cost, fee or expense to the user, provide a copy, a means of exporting a copy, or a means of obtaining a copy upon request, of the work in its original "Plain Vanilla ASCII" or other form. Any alternate format must include the full Project Gutenberg-tm License as specified in paragraph 1.E.1. 1.E.7. Do not charge a fee for access to, viewing, displaying, performing, copying or distributing any Project Gutenberg-tm works unless you comply with paragraph 1.E.8 or 1.E.9. 1.E.8. You may charge a reasonable fee for copies of or providing access to or distributing Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works provided that - You pay a royalty fee of 20% of the gross profits you derive from the use of Project Gutenberg-tm works calculated using the method you already use to calculate your applicable taxes. The fee is owed to the owner of the Project Gutenberg-tm trademark, but he has agreed to donate royalties under this paragraph to the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation. Royalty payments must be paid within 60 days following each date on which you prepare (or are legally required to prepare) your periodic tax returns. Royalty payments should be clearly marked as such and sent to the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation at the address specified in Section 4, "Information about donations to the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation." - You provide a full refund of any money paid by a user who notifies you in writing (or by e-mail) within 30 days of receipt that s/he does not agree to the terms of the full Project Gutenberg-tm License. You must require such a user to return or destroy all copies of the works possessed in a physical medium and discontinue all use of and all access to other copies of Project Gutenberg-tm works. - You provide, in accordance with paragraph 1.F.3, a full refund of any money paid for a work or a replacement copy, if a defect in the electronic work is discovered and reported to you within 90 days of receipt of the work. - You comply with all other terms of this agreement for free distribution of Project Gutenberg-tm works. 1.E.9. If you wish to charge a fee or distribute a Project Gutenberg-tm electronic work or group of works on different terms than are set forth in this agreement, you must obtain permission in writing from both the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation and Michael Hart, the owner of the Project Gutenberg-tm trademark. Contact the Foundation as set forth in Section 3 below. 1.F. 1.F.1. Project Gutenberg volunteers and employees expend considerable effort to identify, do copyright research on, transcribe and proofread public domain works in creating the Project Gutenberg-tm collection. Despite these efforts, Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works, and the medium on which they may be stored, may contain "Defects," such as, but not limited to, incomplete, inaccurate or corrupt data, transcription errors, a copyright or other intellectual property infringement, a defective or damaged disk or other medium, a computer virus, or computer codes that damage or cannot be read by your equipment. 1.F.2. LIMITED WARRANTY, DISCLAIMER OF DAMAGES - Except for the "Right of Replacement or Refund" described in paragraph 1.F.3, the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation, the owner of the Project Gutenberg-tm trademark, and any other party distributing a Project Gutenberg-tm electronic work under this agreement, disclaim all liability to you for damages, costs and expenses, including legal fees. YOU AGREE THAT YOU HAVE NO REMEDIES FOR NEGLIGENCE, STRICT LIABILITY, BREACH OF WARRANTY OR BREACH OF CONTRACT EXCEPT THOSE PROVIDED IN PARAGRAPH F3. YOU AGREE THAT THE FOUNDATION, THE TRADEMARK OWNER, AND ANY DISTRIBUTOR UNDER THIS AGREEMENT WILL NOT BE LIABLE TO YOU FOR ACTUAL, DIRECT, INDIRECT, CONSEQUENTIAL, PUNITIVE OR INCIDENTAL DAMAGES EVEN IF YOU GIVE NOTICE OF THE POSSIBILITY OF SUCH DAMAGE. 1.F.3. LIMITED RIGHT OF REPLACEMENT OR REFUND - If you discover a defect in this electronic work within 90 days of receiving it, you can receive a refund of the money (if any) you paid for it by sending a written explanation to the person you received the work from. If you received the work on a physical medium, you must return the medium with your written explanation. The person or entity that provided you with the defective work may elect to provide a replacement copy in lieu of a refund. If you received the work electronically, the person or entity providing it to you may choose to give you a second opportunity to receive the work electronically in lieu of a refund. If the second copy is also defective, you may demand a refund in writing without further opportunities to fix the problem. 1.F.4. Except for the limited right of replacement or refund set forth in paragraph 1.F.3, this work is provided to you 'AS-IS' WITH NO OTHER WARRANTIES OF ANY KIND, EXPRESS OR IMPLIED, INCLUDING BUT NOT LIMITED TO WARRANTIES OF MERCHANTIBILITY OR FITNESS FOR ANY PURPOSE. 1.F.5. Some states do not allow disclaimers of certain implied warranties or the exclusion or limitation of certain types of damages. If any disclaimer or limitation set forth in this agreement violates the law of the state applicable to this agreement, the agreement shall be interpreted to make the maximum disclaimer or limitation permitted by the applicable state law. The invalidity or unenforceability of any provision of this agreement shall not void the remaining provisions. 1.F.6. INDEMNITY - You agree to indemnify and hold the Foundation, the trademark owner, any agent or employee of the Foundation, anyone providing copies of Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works in accordance with this agreement, and any volunteers associated with the production, promotion and distribution of Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works, harmless from all liability, costs and expenses, including legal fees, that arise directly or indirectly from any of the following which you do or cause to occur: (a) distribution of this or any Project Gutenberg-tm work, (b) alteration, modification, or additions or deletions to any Project Gutenberg-tm work, and (c) any Defect you cause. Section 2. Information about the Mission of Project Gutenberg-tm Project Gutenberg-tm is synonymous with the free distribution of electronic works in formats readable by the widest variety of computers including obsolete, old, middle-aged and new computers. It exists because of the efforts of hundreds of volunteers and donations from people in all walks of life. Volunteers and financial support to provide volunteers with the assistance they need, is critical to reaching Project Gutenberg-tm's goals and ensuring that the Project Gutenberg-tm collection will remain freely available for generations to come. In 2001, the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation was created to provide a secure and permanent future for Project Gutenberg-tm and future generations. To learn more about the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation and how your efforts and donations can help, see Sections 3 and 4 and the Foundation web page at http://www.pglaf.org. Section 3. Information about the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation The Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation is a non profit 501(c)(3) educational corporation organized under the laws of the state of Mississippi and granted tax exempt status by the Internal Revenue Service. The Foundation's EIN or federal tax identification number is 64-6221541. Its 501(c)(3) letter is posted at http://pglaf.org/fundraising. Contributions to the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation are tax deductible to the full extent permitted by U.S. federal laws and your state's laws. The Foundation's principal office is located at 4557 Melan Dr. S. Fairbanks, AK, 99712., but its volunteers and employees are scattered throughout numerous locations. Its business office is located at 809 North 1500 West, Salt Lake City, UT 84116, (801) 596-1887, email [email protected]. Email contact links and up to date contact information can be found at the Foundation's web site and official page at http://pglaf.org For additional contact information: Dr. Gregory B. Newby

sha

How many times the word 'sha' appears in the text?

you to understand. No, your knowledge is not corrupt, it would not carry with it the same seeds of disaster as that of Those Others. But it would be too easy for us to accept, to walk a softer road, to forget what we have so far won. Just give us time--" Raf cupped his palms over his watering eyes. He wanted badly to see clearly the other's face, to be able to read his expression. Yet it seemed that somehow he _was_ able to see that sober face, as sincere as the words in his mind. "You will come again," Dalgard said with certainty. "And we shall be waiting because you, Raf Kurbi, made it possible." There was something so solemn about that that Raf looked up in surprise. "When you destroyed the core of Those Other's holding, you gave us our chance. For had you not done that we, the mermen, the other harmless, happy creatures of this world, would have been wiped out. There would be no new beginning here, only a dark and horrible end." Raf blinked; to his surprise that other figure standing in the direct sunlight did not waver, and beyond the proudly held head was a stretch of turquoise sky. He could see the color! "Yes, you shall see with your eyes--and with your mind," now Dalgard spoke aloud. "And if the Spirit which rules all space is kind, you shall return to your own people. For you have served His cause well." Then, as if he were embarrassed by his own solemnity, Dalgard ended with a most prosaic inquiry: "Would you like shellfish for eating?" Moments later, wading out into the water-swirled sand, his boots kicked off, his toes feeling for the elusive shelled creatures no one could see, Raf felt happier, freer than he could ever remember having been before. It was going to be all right. He could _see_! He would find the ship! He laughed aloud at nothing and heard an answering chuckle and then a whoop of triumph from the scout stooping to claw one of their prey out of hiding. It was after they had eaten that Dalgard asked another question, one which did not seem important to Raf. "You have a close friend among the crew of your ship?" Raf hesitated. Now that he was obliged to consider the point, did he have any friends--let alone a close one--among the crew of the _RS 10_? Certainly he did not claim Wonstead who had shared his quarters--he honestly did not care if he never saw him again. The officers, the experts such as Lablet--quickly face and character of each swept through his mind and was as swiftly discarded. There was Soriki--He could not claim the com-tech as any special friend, but at least during their period together among the aliens he had come to know him better. Now, as if Dalgard had read his mind--and he probably had, thought Raf with a flash of the old resentment--he had another question. "And what was he--is he like?" Though the pilot could see little reason for this he answered as best he could, trying to build first a physical picture of the com-tech and then doing a little guessing as to what lay under the other's space-burned skin. Dalgard lay on his back, gazing up into the blue-green sky. Yet Raf knew that he was intent on every word. A merman padded up, settled down cross-legged beside the scout, as if he too were enthralled by the pilot's halting description of a man he might never see again. Then a second of the sea people came and a third, until Raf felt that some sort of a noiseless council was in progress. His words trailed away, and then Dalgard offered an explanation. "It will take us many, many days to reach the place where your ship is. And before we are able to complete that journey your friends may be gone. So we shall try something else--with your aid." Raf fingered the little bundle of his possessions. Even his helmet with its com phone was missing. "No," again Dalgard read his mind. "Your machines are of no use to you now. We shall try _our_ way." "How?" Wild thoughts of a big signal fire--But how could that be sighted across a mountain range. Of some sort of an improvised com unit-- "I said _our_ way." There was a smile on Dalgard's face, visible to Raf's slowly clearing vision. "We shall provide another kind of machine, and these"--he waved at the mermen--"will give us the power, or so we hope. Lie here," he gestured to the sand beside him, "and think only of your friend in the ship, in his natural surroundings. Try to hold that picture constant in your mind, letting no other thought trouble it." "Do you mean--send a message to him mentally!" Raf's reply was half protest. "Did I not so reach you when we were in the city--even before I knew of you as an individual?" the scout reminded him. "And such messages are doubly possible when they are sent from friend to friend." "But we were close then." "That is why--" again Dalgard indicated the mermen. "For them this is the natural means of communication. They will pick up your reaching thought, amplify it with their power, beam it north. Since your friend deals with matters of communication, let us hope that he will be sensitive to this method." Raf was only half convinced that it might work But he remembered how Dalgard had established contact with him, before, as the scout had pointed out, they had met. It was that voiceless cry for aid which had pulled him into this adventure in the first place. It was only fitting that something of the same process give _him_ help in return. Obediently he stretched out on the sand and closed his dim eyes, trying to picture Soriki in the small cabin which held the com, slouched in his bucket seat, his deceptive posture that of a lax idler, as he had seen him so many times. Soriki--his broad face with its flat cheekbones, its wide cheerful mouth, its heavy-lidded eyes. And having fixed Soriki's face, he tried to believe that he was now confronting the com-tech, speaking directly to him. "Come--come and get me--south--seashore--Soriki come and get me!" The words formed a kind of chant, a chant aimed at that familiar face in its familiar surroundings. "South--come and get me--" Raf struggled to think only of that, to allow nothing to break through that chant or disturb his picture of the scene he had called from memory. How long that attempt at communication lasted the pilot could not tell, for somehow he slipped from the deep concentration into sleep, dreamless and untroubled, from which he awoke with the befogged feeling that something important had happened. But had he gotten through? The ring of mermen was gone, and it was dawn, gray, chill with the forewarnings of rain in the air. He was reassured because he was certain that in spite of the gloom his sight was a fraction clearer than it had been the day before. But had they gotten through? As he arose, brushing the sand from him, he saw the scout splashing out of the sea, a fish impaled on his spear. "Did we get through?" Raf blurted out. "Since your friend cannot reply with the mind touch, we do not know. But later we shall try again." To Raf's peering gaze Dalgard's face had a drawn, gaunt look as if he had been at hard labor during the hours just past. He walked up the beach slowly, without the springing step Raf had come to associate with him. As he settled down to gut the fish with one of the bone knives, the scout repeated, "We can try again--!" Half an hour later, as the rain swept in from the sea, Raf knew that they would not have to try. His head went up, his face eager. He had known that sound too long and too well ever to mistake it--the drone of a flitter motor cutting through the swish of the falling water. Some trick of the cliffs behind them must be magnifying and projecting the sound, for he could not sight the machine. But it was coming. He whirled to Dalgard, only to see that the other was on his feet and had taken up his spear. "It is the flitter! Soriki heard--they're coming!" Raf hastened to assure him. For the last time he saw Dalgard's slow, warm smile, clearer than he had ever seen it before. Then the scout turned and trotted away, toward a fringing rock wall. Before he dropped out of sight behind that barrier he raised the spear in salute. "Swift and fortunate voyaging!" He gave the farewell of Homeport. Then Raf understood. The colonist meant just what he had said: he wanted no contact with the space ship. To Raf he had owed a debt and now that was paid. But the time was not yet when the men of Astra and the men of Terra should meet. A hundred years from now perhaps--or a thousand--but not yet. And remembering what had summoned the flitter winging toward him, Raf drew a deep breath. What would the men of Astra accomplish in a hundred years? What could those of Terra do to match them in knowledge? It was a challenge, and he alone knew just how much of a challenge. Homeport must remain his own secret. He had been guided to this place, saved by the mermen alone. Dalgard and his people must not exist as far as the crew of the _RS 10_ were concerned. For the last time he experienced the intimacy of the mind touch. "That is it--brother!" Then the sensation was gone as the black blot of the flitter buzzed out of the clouds. From behind the rocks Dalgard watched the pilot enter the strange machine. For a single moment he had an impulse to shout, to run forward, to surrender to his desire to see the others, the ship which had brought them through space and would, they confidently believed, take them back to the Terra he knew only as a legend of the past. But he mastered that desire. He had been right. The road had already forked and there was no going back. He must carry this secret all the rest of his life--he must be strong-willed enough so that Homeport would never know. Time--give them time to be what they could be. Then in a hundred years--or a thousand--But not yet! * * * * * "Nobody today is telling better stories of straight-forward interstellar adventure." --_New York Herald-Tribune_ When Raf Kurbi's Terran spaceship burst into unexplored skies of the far planet Astra and was immediately made welcome by the natives of a once-mighty metropolis, Kurbi was unaware of three vital things: One was that Astra already harbored an Earth colony--descended from refugees from the world of the previous century. Two was that these men and women were facing the greatest danger of their existence from a new outburst of the inhuman fiends who had once tyrannized Astra. Three was that the natives who were buying Kurbi's science know-how were those very fiends--and their intentions were implacably deadly for all humans, whether Earth born or STAR BORN. _It's an Andre Norton space adventure--and therefore the tops in its field!_ * * * * * Quotes from the reviews: "All science-fiction fans will thrill to these new adventures created by Andre Norton.... All who enjoy a good adventure about the unknown parts of our galaxy will find this an enchanting story." --_Jackson _(_Tenn._) _Sun_ "Superb science-fiction." --_Montgomery Advertiser_ "Andre Norton adds another star to her literary laurels." --_Cleveland Press_ "A good, clearly thought-out story." --_New York Times_ "Exciting and adventure-laden." --_Library Journal_ "Suspense and excitement.... A storyteller of the first class, this is one of her best." --_Fantasy & Science Fiction_ * * * * * NOW AVAILABLE AGAIN! PERRY RHODAN 95 each #1 Enterprise Stardust Scheer & Ernsting #2 The Radiant Dome Scheer & Ernsting #3 Galactic Alarm Mahr & Shols #4 Invasion from Space Ernsting & Mahr #5 The Vega Sector Scheer & Mahr #6 Secret of the Time Vault Darlton #7 Fortress of the Six Moons Scheer #8 The Galactic Riddle Darlton #9 Quest through Space and Time Darlton #10 The Ghosts of Gol Mahr #11 Planet of the Dying Sun Mahr #12 Rebels of Tuglan Darlton #13 The Immortal Unknown Darlton #14 Venus in Danger Mahr #15 Escape To Venus Mahr #16 Secret Barrier X Shols #17 The Venus Trap Mahr #18 Menace of the Mutant Master Darlton #19 Mutants vs. Mutants Darlton #20 The Thrall of Hypno Darlton _Available wherever paperbacks an sold or use this coupon._ * * * * * ace books, (Dept. MM) Box 576, Times Square Station New York, N.Y. 10036 Please send me titles checked above. I enclose $.................. Add 25 handling fee per copy. Name.................................................... Address................................................. City...................... State............ Zip........ * * * * * ANDRE NORTON Android at Arms $1.25 Beast Master $1.25 Breed to Come $1.25 Catseye $1.25 The Crossroads Of Time $1.25 Dark Piper $1.25 Daybreak 2250 A.D. $1.25 Defiant Agents $1.25 Dragon Magic $1.25 Dread Companion $1.25 Exiles of the Stars $1.25 Eye of the Monster $1.25 Forerunner Foray $1.50 Galactic Derelict $1.25 High Sorcery $1.25 Huon of the Horn $1.25 Ice Crown $1.25 Judgment on Janus $1.25 Key Out of Time $1.25 The Last Planet $1.25 Lord of Thunder $1.25 Moon of Three Rings $1.25 Night of Masks $1.25 Operation Time Search $1.25 Ordeal In Otherwhere $1.25 _Available wherever paperbacks are sold or use this coupon._ * * * * * ace books, (Dept. MM) Box 576, Times Square Station New York. N.Y. 10036 Please send me titles checked above. I enclose $................ Add 25 handling fee per copy. Name................................................ Address.......................................... City............... State........... Zip......... * * * * * ANDRE NORTON $1.25 each Plague Ship Postmarked the Stars Quest Crosstime Sargasso of Space Sea Seige Secret of the Lost Race. Shadow Hawk The Sioux Spaceman Sorceress of Witch World Star Born Star Gate Star Guard Star Hunter & Voodoo Planet The Stars are Ours Storm Over Warlock Three Against the WitchWorld The Time Traders Uncharted Stars Victory on Janus Warlock of the Witch World Web of the Witch World Witch World The X Factor Year Of The Unicorn The Zero Stone _Available wherever paperbacks are sold or use this coupon._ * * * * * ace books, (Dept. MM) Box 576, Times Square Station New York, N.Y. 10036 Please send me titles checked above. I enclose $............... Add 25 handling fee per copy. Name................................................... Address................................................. City...................... State............ Zip........ End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Star Born, by Andre Norton *** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK STAR BORN *** ***** This file should be named 18458-8.txt or 18458-8.zip ***** This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: http://www.gutenberg.org/1/8/4/5/18458/ Produced by Jason Isbell, Greg Weeks, Sankar Viswanathan, and the Online Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions will be renamed. Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation (and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without permission and without paying copyright royalties. Special rules, set forth in the General Terms of Use part of this license, apply to copying and distributing Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works to protect the PROJECT GUTENBERG-tm concept and trademark. Project Gutenberg is a registered trademark, and may not be used if you charge for the eBooks, unless you receive specific permission. If you do not charge anything for copies of this eBook, complying with the rules is very easy. You may use this eBook for nearly any purpose such as creation of derivative works, reports, performances and research. They may be modified and printed and given away--you may do practically ANYTHING with public domain eBooks. Redistribution is subject to the trademark license, especially commercial redistribution. *** START: FULL LICENSE *** THE FULL PROJECT GUTENBERG LICENSE PLEASE READ THIS BEFORE YOU DISTRIBUTE OR USE THIS WORK To protect the Project Gutenberg-tm mission of promoting the free distribution of electronic works, by using or distributing this work (or any other work associated in any way with the phrase "Project Gutenberg"), you agree to comply with all the terms of the Full Project Gutenberg-tm License (available with this file or online at http://gutenberg.org/license). Section 1. General Terms of Use and Redistributing Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works 1.A. By reading or using any part of this Project Gutenberg-tm electronic work, you indicate that you have read, understand, agree to and accept all the terms of this license and intellectual property (trademark/copyright) agreement. If you do not agree to abide by all the terms of this agreement, you must cease using and return or destroy all copies of Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works in your possession. If you paid a fee for obtaining a copy of or access to a Project Gutenberg-tm electronic work and you do not agree to be bound by the terms of this agreement, you may obtain a refund from the person or entity to whom you paid the fee as set forth in paragraph 1.E.8. 1.B. "Project Gutenberg" is a registered trademark. It may only be used on or associated in any way with an electronic work by people who agree to be bound by the terms of this agreement. There are a few things that you can do with most Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works even without complying with the full terms of this agreement. See paragraph 1.C below. There are a lot of things you can do with Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works if you follow the terms of this agreement and help preserve free future access to Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works. See paragraph 1.E below. 1.C. The Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation ("the Foundation" or PGLAF), owns a compilation copyright in the collection of Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works. Nearly all the individual works in the collection are in the public domain in the United States. If an individual work is in the public domain in the United States and you are located in the United States, we do not claim a right to prevent you from copying, distributing, performing, displaying or creating derivative works based on the work as long as all references to Project Gutenberg are removed. Of course, we hope that you will support the Project Gutenberg-tm mission of promoting free access to electronic works by freely sharing Project Gutenberg-tm works in compliance with the terms of this agreement for keeping the Project Gutenberg-tm name associated with the work. You can easily comply with the terms of this agreement by keeping this work in the same format with its attached full Project Gutenberg-tm License when you share it without charge with others. 1.D. The copyright laws of the place where you are located also govern what you can do with this work. Copyright laws in most countries are in a constant state of change. If you are outside the United States, check the laws of your country in addition to the terms of this agreement before downloading, copying, displaying, performing, distributing or creating derivative works based on this work or any other Project Gutenberg-tm work. The Foundation makes no representations concerning the copyright status of any work in any country outside the United States. 1.E. Unless you have removed all references to Project Gutenberg: 1.E.1. The following sentence, with active links to, or other immediate access to, the full Project Gutenberg-tm License must appear prominently whenever any copy of a Project Gutenberg-tm work (any work on which the phrase "Project Gutenberg" appears, or with which the phrase "Project Gutenberg" is associated) is accessed, displayed, performed, viewed, copied or distributed: This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org 1.E.2. If an individual Project Gutenberg-tm electronic work is derived from the public domain (does not contain a notice indicating that it is posted with permission of the copyright holder), the work can be copied and distributed to anyone in the United States without paying any fees or charges. If you are redistributing or providing access to a work with the phrase "Project Gutenberg" associated with or appearing on the work, you must comply either with the requirements of paragraphs 1.E.1 through 1.E.7 or obtain permission for the use of the work and the Project Gutenberg-tm trademark as set forth in paragraphs 1.E.8 or 1.E.9. 1.E.3. If an individual Project Gutenberg-tm electronic work is posted with the permission of the copyright holder, your use and distribution must comply with both paragraphs 1.E.1 through 1.E.7 and any additional terms imposed by the copyright holder. Additional terms will be linked to the Project Gutenberg-tm License for all works posted with the permission of the copyright holder found at the beginning of this work. 1.E.4. Do not unlink or detach or remove the full Project Gutenberg-tm License terms from this work, or any files containing a part of this work or any other work associated with Project Gutenberg-tm. 1.E.5. Do not copy, display, perform, distribute or redistribute this electronic work, or any part of this electronic work, without prominently displaying the sentence set forth in paragraph 1.E.1 with active links or immediate access to the full terms of the Project Gutenberg-tm License. 1.E.6. You may convert to and distribute this work in any binary, compressed, marked up, nonproprietary or proprietary form, including any word processing or hypertext form. However, if you provide access to or distribute copies of a Project Gutenberg-tm work in a format other than "Plain Vanilla ASCII" or other format used in the official version posted on the official Project Gutenberg-tm web site (www.gutenberg.org), you must, at no additional cost, fee or expense to the user, provide a copy, a means of exporting a copy, or a means of obtaining a copy upon request, of the work in its original "Plain Vanilla ASCII" or other form. Any alternate format must include the full Project Gutenberg-tm License as specified in paragraph 1.E.1. 1.E.7. Do not charge a fee for access to, viewing, displaying, performing, copying or distributing any Project Gutenberg-tm works unless you comply with paragraph 1.E.8 or 1.E.9. 1.E.8. You may charge a reasonable fee for copies of or providing access to or distributing Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works provided that - You pay a royalty fee of 20% of the gross profits you derive from the use of Project Gutenberg-tm works calculated using the method you already use to calculate your applicable taxes. The fee is owed to the owner of the Project Gutenberg-tm trademark, but he has agreed to donate royalties under this paragraph to the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation. Royalty payments must be paid within 60 days following each date on which you prepare (or are legally required to prepare) your periodic tax returns. Royalty payments should be clearly marked as such and sent to the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation at the address specified in Section 4, "Information about donations to the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation." - You provide a full refund of any money paid by a user who notifies you in writing (or by e-mail) within 30 days of receipt that s/he does not agree to the terms of the full Project Gutenberg-tm License. You must require such a user to return or destroy all copies of the works possessed in a physical medium and discontinue all use of and all access to other copies of Project Gutenberg-tm works. - You provide, in accordance with paragraph 1.F.3, a full refund of any money paid for a work or a replacement copy, if a defect in the electronic work is discovered and reported to you within 90 days of receipt of the work. - You comply with all other terms of this agreement for free distribution of Project Gutenberg-tm works. 1.E.9. If you wish to charge a fee or distribute a Project Gutenberg-tm electronic work or group of works on different terms than are set forth in this agreement, you must obtain permission in writing from both the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation and Michael Hart, the owner of the Project Gutenberg-tm trademark. Contact the Foundation as set forth in Section 3 below. 1.F. 1.F.1. Project Gutenberg volunteers and employees expend considerable effort to identify, do copyright research on, transcribe and proofread public domain works in creating the Project Gutenberg-tm collection. Despite these efforts, Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works, and the medium on which they may be stored, may contain "Defects," such as, but not limited to, incomplete, inaccurate or corrupt data, transcription errors, a copyright or other intellectual property infringement, a defective or damaged disk or other medium, a computer virus, or computer codes that damage or cannot be read by your equipment. 1.F.2. LIMITED WARRANTY, DISCLAIMER OF DAMAGES - Except for the "Right of Replacement or Refund" described in paragraph 1.F.3, the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation, the owner of the Project Gutenberg-tm trademark, and any other party distributing a Project Gutenberg-tm electronic work under this agreement, disclaim all liability to you for damages, costs and expenses, including legal fees. YOU AGREE THAT YOU HAVE NO REMEDIES FOR NEGLIGENCE, STRICT LIABILITY, BREACH OF WARRANTY OR BREACH OF CONTRACT EXCEPT THOSE PROVIDED IN PARAGRAPH F3. YOU AGREE THAT THE FOUNDATION, THE TRADEMARK OWNER, AND ANY DISTRIBUTOR UNDER THIS AGREEMENT WILL NOT BE LIABLE TO YOU FOR ACTUAL, DIRECT, INDIRECT, CONSEQUENTIAL, PUNITIVE OR INCIDENTAL DAMAGES EVEN IF YOU GIVE NOTICE OF THE POSSIBILITY OF SUCH DAMAGE. 1.F.3. LIMITED RIGHT OF REPLACEMENT OR REFUND - If you discover a defect in this electronic work within 90 days of receiving it, you can receive a refund of the money (if any) you paid for it by sending a written explanation to the person you received the work from. If you received the work on a physical medium, you must return the medium with your written explanation. The person or entity that provided you with the defective work may elect to provide a replacement copy in lieu of a refund. If you received the work electronically, the person or entity providing it to you may choose to give you a second opportunity to receive the work electronically in lieu of a refund. If the second copy is also defective, you may demand a refund in writing without further opportunities to fix the problem. 1.F.4. Except for the limited right of replacement or refund set forth in paragraph 1.F.3, this work is provided to you 'AS-IS' WITH NO OTHER WARRANTIES OF ANY KIND, EXPRESS OR IMPLIED, INCLUDING BUT NOT LIMITED TO WARRANTIES OF MERCHANTIBILITY OR FITNESS FOR ANY PURPOSE. 1.F.5. Some states do not allow disclaimers of certain implied warranties or the exclusion or limitation of certain types of damages. If any disclaimer or limitation set forth in this agreement violates the law of the state applicable to this agreement, the agreement shall be interpreted to make the maximum disclaimer or limitation permitted by the applicable state law. The invalidity or unenforceability of any provision of this agreement shall not void the remaining provisions. 1.F.6. INDEMNITY - You agree to indemnify and hold the Foundation, the trademark owner, any agent or employee of the Foundation, anyone providing copies of Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works in accordance with this agreement, and any volunteers associated with the production, promotion and distribution of Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works, harmless from all liability, costs and expenses, including legal fees, that arise directly or indirectly from any of the following which you do or cause to occur: (a) distribution of this or any Project Gutenberg-tm work, (b) alteration, modification, or additions or deletions to any Project Gutenberg-tm work, and (c) any Defect you cause. Section 2. Information about the Mission of Project Gutenberg-tm Project Gutenberg-tm is synonymous with the free distribution of electronic works in formats readable by the widest variety of computers including obsolete, old, middle-aged and new computers. It exists because of the efforts of hundreds of volunteers and donations from people in all walks of life. Volunteers and financial support to provide volunteers with the assistance they need, is critical to reaching Project Gutenberg-tm's goals and ensuring that the Project Gutenberg-tm collection will remain freely available for generations to come. In 2001, the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation was created to provide a secure and permanent future for Project Gutenberg-tm and future generations. To learn more about the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation and how your efforts and donations can help, see Sections 3 and 4 and the Foundation web page at http://www.pglaf.org. Section 3. Information about the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation The Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation is a non profit 501(c)(3) educational corporation organized under the laws of the state of Mississippi and granted tax exempt status by the Internal Revenue Service. The Foundation's EIN or federal tax identification number is 64-6221541. Its 501(c)(3) letter is posted at http://pglaf.org/fundraising. Contributions to the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation are tax deductible to the full extent permitted by U.S. federal laws and your state's laws. The Foundation's principal office is located at 4557 Melan Dr. S. Fairbanks, AK, 99712., but its volunteers and employees are scattered throughout numerous locations. Its business office is located at 809 North 1500 West, Salt Lake City, UT 84116, (801) 596-1887, email [email protected]. Email contact links and up to date contact information can be found at the Foundation's web site and official page at http://pglaf.org For additional contact information: Dr. Gregory B. Newby

boiling

How many times the word 'boiling' appears in the text?

you to understand. No, your knowledge is not corrupt, it would not carry with it the same seeds of disaster as that of Those Others. But it would be too easy for us to accept, to walk a softer road, to forget what we have so far won. Just give us time--" Raf cupped his palms over his watering eyes. He wanted badly to see clearly the other's face, to be able to read his expression. Yet it seemed that somehow he _was_ able to see that sober face, as sincere as the words in his mind. "You will come again," Dalgard said with certainty. "And we shall be waiting because you, Raf Kurbi, made it possible." There was something so solemn about that that Raf looked up in surprise. "When you destroyed the core of Those Other's holding, you gave us our chance. For had you not done that we, the mermen, the other harmless, happy creatures of this world, would have been wiped out. There would be no new beginning here, only a dark and horrible end." Raf blinked; to his surprise that other figure standing in the direct sunlight did not waver, and beyond the proudly held head was a stretch of turquoise sky. He could see the color! "Yes, you shall see with your eyes--and with your mind," now Dalgard spoke aloud. "And if the Spirit which rules all space is kind, you shall return to your own people. For you have served His cause well." Then, as if he were embarrassed by his own solemnity, Dalgard ended with a most prosaic inquiry: "Would you like shellfish for eating?" Moments later, wading out into the water-swirled sand, his boots kicked off, his toes feeling for the elusive shelled creatures no one could see, Raf felt happier, freer than he could ever remember having been before. It was going to be all right. He could _see_! He would find the ship! He laughed aloud at nothing and heard an answering chuckle and then a whoop of triumph from the scout stooping to claw one of their prey out of hiding. It was after they had eaten that Dalgard asked another question, one which did not seem important to Raf. "You have a close friend among the crew of your ship?" Raf hesitated. Now that he was obliged to consider the point, did he have any friends--let alone a close one--among the crew of the _RS 10_? Certainly he did not claim Wonstead who had shared his quarters--he honestly did not care if he never saw him again. The officers, the experts such as Lablet--quickly face and character of each swept through his mind and was as swiftly discarded. There was Soriki--He could not claim the com-tech as any special friend, but at least during their period together among the aliens he had come to know him better. Now, as if Dalgard had read his mind--and he probably had, thought Raf with a flash of the old resentment--he had another question. "And what was he--is he like?" Though the pilot could see little reason for this he answered as best he could, trying to build first a physical picture of the com-tech and then doing a little guessing as to what lay under the other's space-burned skin. Dalgard lay on his back, gazing up into the blue-green sky. Yet Raf knew that he was intent on every word. A merman padded up, settled down cross-legged beside the scout, as if he too were enthralled by the pilot's halting description of a man he might never see again. Then a second of the sea people came and a third, until Raf felt that some sort of a noiseless council was in progress. His words trailed away, and then Dalgard offered an explanation. "It will take us many, many days to reach the place where your ship is. And before we are able to complete that journey your friends may be gone. So we shall try something else--with your aid." Raf fingered the little bundle of his possessions. Even his helmet with its com phone was missing. "No," again Dalgard read his mind. "Your machines are of no use to you now. We shall try _our_ way." "How?" Wild thoughts of a big signal fire--But how could that be sighted across a mountain range. Of some sort of an improvised com unit-- "I said _our_ way." There was a smile on Dalgard's face, visible to Raf's slowly clearing vision. "We shall provide another kind of machine, and these"--he waved at the mermen--"will give us the power, or so we hope. Lie here," he gestured to the sand beside him, "and think only of your friend in the ship, in his natural surroundings. Try to hold that picture constant in your mind, letting no other thought trouble it." "Do you mean--send a message to him mentally!" Raf's reply was half protest. "Did I not so reach you when we were in the city--even before I knew of you as an individual?" the scout reminded him. "And such messages are doubly possible when they are sent from friend to friend." "But we were close then." "That is why--" again Dalgard indicated the mermen. "For them this is the natural means of communication. They will pick up your reaching thought, amplify it with their power, beam it north. Since your friend deals with matters of communication, let us hope that he will be sensitive to this method." Raf was only half convinced that it might work But he remembered how Dalgard had established contact with him, before, as the scout had pointed out, they had met. It was that voiceless cry for aid which had pulled him into this adventure in the first place. It was only fitting that something of the same process give _him_ help in return. Obediently he stretched out on the sand and closed his dim eyes, trying to picture Soriki in the small cabin which held the com, slouched in his bucket seat, his deceptive posture that of a lax idler, as he had seen him so many times. Soriki--his broad face with its flat cheekbones, its wide cheerful mouth, its heavy-lidded eyes. And having fixed Soriki's face, he tried to believe that he was now confronting the com-tech, speaking directly to him. "Come--come and get me--south--seashore--Soriki come and get me!" The words formed a kind of chant, a chant aimed at that familiar face in its familiar surroundings. "South--come and get me--" Raf struggled to think only of that, to allow nothing to break through that chant or disturb his picture of the scene he had called from memory. How long that attempt at communication lasted the pilot could not tell, for somehow he slipped from the deep concentration into sleep, dreamless and untroubled, from which he awoke with the befogged feeling that something important had happened. But had he gotten through? The ring of mermen was gone, and it was dawn, gray, chill with the forewarnings of rain in the air. He was reassured because he was certain that in spite of the gloom his sight was a fraction clearer than it had been the day before. But had they gotten through? As he arose, brushing the sand from him, he saw the scout splashing out of the sea, a fish impaled on his spear. "Did we get through?" Raf blurted out. "Since your friend cannot reply with the mind touch, we do not know. But later we shall try again." To Raf's peering gaze Dalgard's face had a drawn, gaunt look as if he had been at hard labor during the hours just past. He walked up the beach slowly, without the springing step Raf had come to associate with him. As he settled down to gut the fish with one of the bone knives, the scout repeated, "We can try again--!" Half an hour later, as the rain swept in from the sea, Raf knew that they would not have to try. His head went up, his face eager. He had known that sound too long and too well ever to mistake it--the drone of a flitter motor cutting through the swish of the falling water. Some trick of the cliffs behind them must be magnifying and projecting the sound, for he could not sight the machine. But it was coming. He whirled to Dalgard, only to see that the other was on his feet and had taken up his spear. "It is the flitter! Soriki heard--they're coming!" Raf hastened to assure him. For the last time he saw Dalgard's slow, warm smile, clearer than he had ever seen it before. Then the scout turned and trotted away, toward a fringing rock wall. Before he dropped out of sight behind that barrier he raised the spear in salute. "Swift and fortunate voyaging!" He gave the farewell of Homeport. Then Raf understood. The colonist meant just what he had said: he wanted no contact with the space ship. To Raf he had owed a debt and now that was paid. But the time was not yet when the men of Astra and the men of Terra should meet. A hundred years from now perhaps--or a thousand--but not yet. And remembering what had summoned the flitter winging toward him, Raf drew a deep breath. What would the men of Astra accomplish in a hundred years? What could those of Terra do to match them in knowledge? It was a challenge, and he alone knew just how much of a challenge. Homeport must remain his own secret. He had been guided to this place, saved by the mermen alone. Dalgard and his people must not exist as far as the crew of the _RS 10_ were concerned. For the last time he experienced the intimacy of the mind touch. "That is it--brother!" Then the sensation was gone as the black blot of the flitter buzzed out of the clouds. From behind the rocks Dalgard watched the pilot enter the strange machine. For a single moment he had an impulse to shout, to run forward, to surrender to his desire to see the others, the ship which had brought them through space and would, they confidently believed, take them back to the Terra he knew only as a legend of the past. But he mastered that desire. He had been right. The road had already forked and there was no going back. He must carry this secret all the rest of his life--he must be strong-willed enough so that Homeport would never know. Time--give them time to be what they could be. Then in a hundred years--or a thousand--But not yet! * * * * * "Nobody today is telling better stories of straight-forward interstellar adventure." --_New York Herald-Tribune_ When Raf Kurbi's Terran spaceship burst into unexplored skies of the far planet Astra and was immediately made welcome by the natives of a once-mighty metropolis, Kurbi was unaware of three vital things: One was that Astra already harbored an Earth colony--descended from refugees from the world of the previous century. Two was that these men and women were facing the greatest danger of their existence from a new outburst of the inhuman fiends who had once tyrannized Astra. Three was that the natives who were buying Kurbi's science know-how were those very fiends--and their intentions were implacably deadly for all humans, whether Earth born or STAR BORN. _It's an Andre Norton space adventure--and therefore the tops in its field!_ * * * * * Quotes from the reviews: "All science-fiction fans will thrill to these new adventures created by Andre Norton.... All who enjoy a good adventure about the unknown parts of our galaxy will find this an enchanting story." --_Jackson _(_Tenn._) _Sun_ "Superb science-fiction." --_Montgomery Advertiser_ "Andre Norton adds another star to her literary laurels." --_Cleveland Press_ "A good, clearly thought-out story." --_New York Times_ "Exciting and adventure-laden." --_Library Journal_ "Suspense and excitement.... A storyteller of the first class, this is one of her best." --_Fantasy & Science Fiction_ * * * * * NOW AVAILABLE AGAIN! PERRY RHODAN 95 each #1 Enterprise Stardust Scheer & Ernsting #2 The Radiant Dome Scheer & Ernsting #3 Galactic Alarm Mahr & Shols #4 Invasion from Space Ernsting & Mahr #5 The Vega Sector Scheer & Mahr #6 Secret of the Time Vault Darlton #7 Fortress of the Six Moons Scheer #8 The Galactic Riddle Darlton #9 Quest through Space and Time Darlton #10 The Ghosts of Gol Mahr #11 Planet of the Dying Sun Mahr #12 Rebels of Tuglan Darlton #13 The Immortal Unknown Darlton #14 Venus in Danger Mahr #15 Escape To Venus Mahr #16 Secret Barrier X Shols #17 The Venus Trap Mahr #18 Menace of the Mutant Master Darlton #19 Mutants vs. Mutants Darlton #20 The Thrall of Hypno Darlton _Available wherever paperbacks an sold or use this coupon._ * * * * * ace books, (Dept. MM) Box 576, Times Square Station New York, N.Y. 10036 Please send me titles checked above. I enclose $.................. Add 25 handling fee per copy. Name.................................................... Address................................................. City...................... State............ Zip........ * * * * * ANDRE NORTON Android at Arms $1.25 Beast Master $1.25 Breed to Come $1.25 Catseye $1.25 The Crossroads Of Time $1.25 Dark Piper $1.25 Daybreak 2250 A.D. $1.25 Defiant Agents $1.25 Dragon Magic $1.25 Dread Companion $1.25 Exiles of the Stars $1.25 Eye of the Monster $1.25 Forerunner Foray $1.50 Galactic Derelict $1.25 High Sorcery $1.25 Huon of the Horn $1.25 Ice Crown $1.25 Judgment on Janus $1.25 Key Out of Time $1.25 The Last Planet $1.25 Lord of Thunder $1.25 Moon of Three Rings $1.25 Night of Masks $1.25 Operation Time Search $1.25 Ordeal In Otherwhere $1.25 _Available wherever paperbacks are sold or use this coupon._ * * * * * ace books, (Dept. MM) Box 576, Times Square Station New York. N.Y. 10036 Please send me titles checked above. I enclose $................ Add 25 handling fee per copy. Name................................................ Address.......................................... City............... State........... Zip......... * * * * * ANDRE NORTON $1.25 each Plague Ship Postmarked the Stars Quest Crosstime Sargasso of Space Sea Seige Secret of the Lost Race. Shadow Hawk The Sioux Spaceman Sorceress of Witch World Star Born Star Gate Star Guard Star Hunter & Voodoo Planet The Stars are Ours Storm Over Warlock Three Against the WitchWorld The Time Traders Uncharted Stars Victory on Janus Warlock of the Witch World Web of the Witch World Witch World The X Factor Year Of The Unicorn The Zero Stone _Available wherever paperbacks are sold or use this coupon._ * * * * * ace books, (Dept. MM) Box 576, Times Square Station New York, N.Y. 10036 Please send me titles checked above. I enclose $............... Add 25 handling fee per copy. Name................................................... Address................................................. City...................... State............ Zip........ End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Star Born, by Andre Norton *** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK STAR BORN *** ***** This file should be named 18458-8.txt or 18458-8.zip ***** This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: http://www.gutenberg.org/1/8/4/5/18458/ Produced by Jason Isbell, Greg Weeks, Sankar Viswanathan, and the Online Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions will be renamed. Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation (and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without permission and without paying copyright royalties. Special rules, set forth in the General Terms of Use part of this license, apply to copying and distributing Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works to protect the PROJECT GUTENBERG-tm concept and trademark. Project Gutenberg is a registered trademark, and may not be used if you charge for the eBooks, unless you receive specific permission. If you do not charge anything for copies of this eBook, complying with the rules is very easy. You may use this eBook for nearly any purpose such as creation of derivative works, reports, performances and research. They may be modified and printed and given away--you may do practically ANYTHING with public domain eBooks. Redistribution is subject to the trademark license, especially commercial redistribution. *** START: FULL LICENSE *** THE FULL PROJECT GUTENBERG LICENSE PLEASE READ THIS BEFORE YOU DISTRIBUTE OR USE THIS WORK To protect the Project Gutenberg-tm mission of promoting the free distribution of electronic works, by using or distributing this work (or any other work associated in any way with the phrase "Project Gutenberg"), you agree to comply with all the terms of the Full Project Gutenberg-tm License (available with this file or online at http://gutenberg.org/license). Section 1. General Terms of Use and Redistributing Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works 1.A. By reading or using any part of this Project Gutenberg-tm electronic work, you indicate that you have read, understand, agree to and accept all the terms of this license and intellectual property (trademark/copyright) agreement. If you do not agree to abide by all the terms of this agreement, you must cease using and return or destroy all copies of Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works in your possession. If you paid a fee for obtaining a copy of or access to a Project Gutenberg-tm electronic work and you do not agree to be bound by the terms of this agreement, you may obtain a refund from the person or entity to whom you paid the fee as set forth in paragraph 1.E.8. 1.B. "Project Gutenberg" is a registered trademark. It may only be used on or associated in any way with an electronic work by people who agree to be bound by the terms of this agreement. There are a few things that you can do with most Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works even without complying with the full terms of this agreement. See paragraph 1.C below. There are a lot of things you can do with Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works if you follow the terms of this agreement and help preserve free future access to Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works. See paragraph 1.E below. 1.C. The Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation ("the Foundation" or PGLAF), owns a compilation copyright in the collection of Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works. Nearly all the individual works in the collection are in the public domain in the United States. If an individual work is in the public domain in the United States and you are located in the United States, we do not claim a right to prevent you from copying, distributing, performing, displaying or creating derivative works based on the work as long as all references to Project Gutenberg are removed. Of course, we hope that you will support the Project Gutenberg-tm mission of promoting free access to electronic works by freely sharing Project Gutenberg-tm works in compliance with the terms of this agreement for keeping the Project Gutenberg-tm name associated with the work. You can easily comply with the terms of this agreement by keeping this work in the same format with its attached full Project Gutenberg-tm License when you share it without charge with others. 1.D. The copyright laws of the place where you are located also govern what you can do with this work. Copyright laws in most countries are in a constant state of change. If you are outside the United States, check the laws of your country in addition to the terms of this agreement before downloading, copying, displaying, performing, distributing or creating derivative works based on this work or any other Project Gutenberg-tm work. The Foundation makes no representations concerning the copyright status of any work in any country outside the United States. 1.E. Unless you have removed all references to Project Gutenberg: 1.E.1. The following sentence, with active links to, or other immediate access to, the full Project Gutenberg-tm License must appear prominently whenever any copy of a Project Gutenberg-tm work (any work on which the phrase "Project Gutenberg" appears, or with which the phrase "Project Gutenberg" is associated) is accessed, displayed, performed, viewed, copied or distributed: This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org 1.E.2. If an individual Project Gutenberg-tm electronic work is derived from the public domain (does not contain a notice indicating that it is posted with permission of the copyright holder), the work can be copied and distributed to anyone in the United States without paying any fees or charges. If you are redistributing or providing access to a work with the phrase "Project Gutenberg" associated with or appearing on the work, you must comply either with the requirements of paragraphs 1.E.1 through 1.E.7 or obtain permission for the use of the work and the Project Gutenberg-tm trademark as set forth in paragraphs 1.E.8 or 1.E.9. 1.E.3. If an individual Project Gutenberg-tm electronic work is posted with the permission of the copyright holder, your use and distribution must comply with both paragraphs 1.E.1 through 1.E.7 and any additional terms imposed by the copyright holder. Additional terms will be linked to the Project Gutenberg-tm License for all works posted with the permission of the copyright holder found at the beginning of this work. 1.E.4. Do not unlink or detach or remove the full Project Gutenberg-tm License terms from this work, or any files containing a part of this work or any other work associated with Project Gutenberg-tm. 1.E.5. Do not copy, display, perform, distribute or redistribute this electronic work, or any part of this electronic work, without prominently displaying the sentence set forth in paragraph 1.E.1 with active links or immediate access to the full terms of the Project Gutenberg-tm License. 1.E.6. You may convert to and distribute this work in any binary, compressed, marked up, nonproprietary or proprietary form, including any word processing or hypertext form. However, if you provide access to or distribute copies of a Project Gutenberg-tm work in a format other than "Plain Vanilla ASCII" or other format used in the official version posted on the official Project Gutenberg-tm web site (www.gutenberg.org), you must, at no additional cost, fee or expense to the user, provide a copy, a means of exporting a copy, or a means of obtaining a copy upon request, of the work in its original "Plain Vanilla ASCII" or other form. Any alternate format must include the full Project Gutenberg-tm License as specified in paragraph 1.E.1. 1.E.7. Do not charge a fee for access to, viewing, displaying, performing, copying or distributing any Project Gutenberg-tm works unless you comply with paragraph 1.E.8 or 1.E.9. 1.E.8. You may charge a reasonable fee for copies of or providing access to or distributing Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works provided that - You pay a royalty fee of 20% of the gross profits you derive from the use of Project Gutenberg-tm works calculated using the method you already use to calculate your applicable taxes. The fee is owed to the owner of the Project Gutenberg-tm trademark, but he has agreed to donate royalties under this paragraph to the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation. Royalty payments must be paid within 60 days following each date on which you prepare (or are legally required to prepare) your periodic tax returns. Royalty payments should be clearly marked as such and sent to the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation at the address specified in Section 4, "Information about donations to the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation." - You provide a full refund of any money paid by a user who notifies you in writing (or by e-mail) within 30 days of receipt that s/he does not agree to the terms of the full Project Gutenberg-tm License. You must require such a user to return or destroy all copies of the works possessed in a physical medium and discontinue all use of and all access to other copies of Project Gutenberg-tm works. - You provide, in accordance with paragraph 1.F.3, a full refund of any money paid for a work or a replacement copy, if a defect in the electronic work is discovered and reported to you within 90 days of receipt of the work. - You comply with all other terms of this agreement for free distribution of Project Gutenberg-tm works. 1.E.9. If you wish to charge a fee or distribute a Project Gutenberg-tm electronic work or group of works on different terms than are set forth in this agreement, you must obtain permission in writing from both the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation and Michael Hart, the owner of the Project Gutenberg-tm trademark. Contact the Foundation as set forth in Section 3 below. 1.F. 1.F.1. Project Gutenberg volunteers and employees expend considerable effort to identify, do copyright research on, transcribe and proofread public domain works in creating the Project Gutenberg-tm collection. Despite these efforts, Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works, and the medium on which they may be stored, may contain "Defects," such as, but not limited to, incomplete, inaccurate or corrupt data, transcription errors, a copyright or other intellectual property infringement, a defective or damaged disk or other medium, a computer virus, or computer codes that damage or cannot be read by your equipment. 1.F.2. LIMITED WARRANTY, DISCLAIMER OF DAMAGES - Except for the "Right of Replacement or Refund" described in paragraph 1.F.3, the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation, the owner of the Project Gutenberg-tm trademark, and any other party distributing a Project Gutenberg-tm electronic work under this agreement, disclaim all liability to you for damages, costs and expenses, including legal fees. YOU AGREE THAT YOU HAVE NO REMEDIES FOR NEGLIGENCE, STRICT LIABILITY, BREACH OF WARRANTY OR BREACH OF CONTRACT EXCEPT THOSE PROVIDED IN PARAGRAPH F3. YOU AGREE THAT THE FOUNDATION, THE TRADEMARK OWNER, AND ANY DISTRIBUTOR UNDER THIS AGREEMENT WILL NOT BE LIABLE TO YOU FOR ACTUAL, DIRECT, INDIRECT, CONSEQUENTIAL, PUNITIVE OR INCIDENTAL DAMAGES EVEN IF YOU GIVE NOTICE OF THE POSSIBILITY OF SUCH DAMAGE. 1.F.3. LIMITED RIGHT OF REPLACEMENT OR REFUND - If you discover a defect in this electronic work within 90 days of receiving it, you can receive a refund of the money (if any) you paid for it by sending a written explanation to the person you received the work from. If you received the work on a physical medium, you must return the medium with your written explanation. The person or entity that provided you with the defective work may elect to provide a replacement copy in lieu of a refund. If you received the work electronically, the person or entity providing it to you may choose to give you a second opportunity to receive the work electronically in lieu of a refund. If the second copy is also defective, you may demand a refund in writing without further opportunities to fix the problem. 1.F.4. Except for the limited right of replacement or refund set forth in paragraph 1.F.3, this work is provided to you 'AS-IS' WITH NO OTHER WARRANTIES OF ANY KIND, EXPRESS OR IMPLIED, INCLUDING BUT NOT LIMITED TO WARRANTIES OF MERCHANTIBILITY OR FITNESS FOR ANY PURPOSE. 1.F.5. Some states do not allow disclaimers of certain implied warranties or the exclusion or limitation of certain types of damages. If any disclaimer or limitation set forth in this agreement violates the law of the state applicable to this agreement, the agreement shall be interpreted to make the maximum disclaimer or limitation permitted by the applicable state law. The invalidity or unenforceability of any provision of this agreement shall not void the remaining provisions. 1.F.6. INDEMNITY - You agree to indemnify and hold the Foundation, the trademark owner, any agent or employee of the Foundation, anyone providing copies of Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works in accordance with this agreement, and any volunteers associated with the production, promotion and distribution of Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works, harmless from all liability, costs and expenses, including legal fees, that arise directly or indirectly from any of the following which you do or cause to occur: (a) distribution of this or any Project Gutenberg-tm work, (b) alteration, modification, or additions or deletions to any Project Gutenberg-tm work, and (c) any Defect you cause. Section 2. Information about the Mission of Project Gutenberg-tm Project Gutenberg-tm is synonymous with the free distribution of electronic works in formats readable by the widest variety of computers including obsolete, old, middle-aged and new computers. It exists because of the efforts of hundreds of volunteers and donations from people in all walks of life. Volunteers and financial support to provide volunteers with the assistance they need, is critical to reaching Project Gutenberg-tm's goals and ensuring that the Project Gutenberg-tm collection will remain freely available for generations to come. In 2001, the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation was created to provide a secure and permanent future for Project Gutenberg-tm and future generations. To learn more about the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation and how your efforts and donations can help, see Sections 3 and 4 and the Foundation web page at http://www.pglaf.org. Section 3. Information about the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation The Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation is a non profit 501(c)(3) educational corporation organized under the laws of the state of Mississippi and granted tax exempt status by the Internal Revenue Service. The Foundation's EIN or federal tax identification number is 64-6221541. Its 501(c)(3) letter is posted at http://pglaf.org/fundraising. Contributions to the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation are tax deductible to the full extent permitted by U.S. federal laws and your state's laws. The Foundation's principal office is located at 4557 Melan Dr. S. Fairbanks, AK, 99712., but its volunteers and employees are scattered throughout numerous locations. Its business office is located at 809 North 1500 West, Salt Lake City, UT 84116, (801) 596-1887, email [email protected]. Email contact links and up to date contact information can be found at the Foundation's web site and official page at http://pglaf.org For additional contact information: Dr. Gregory B. Newby

some

How many times the word 'some' appears in the text?

you to understand. No, your knowledge is not corrupt, it would not carry with it the same seeds of disaster as that of Those Others. But it would be too easy for us to accept, to walk a softer road, to forget what we have so far won. Just give us time--" Raf cupped his palms over his watering eyes. He wanted badly to see clearly the other's face, to be able to read his expression. Yet it seemed that somehow he _was_ able to see that sober face, as sincere as the words in his mind. "You will come again," Dalgard said with certainty. "And we shall be waiting because you, Raf Kurbi, made it possible." There was something so solemn about that that Raf looked up in surprise. "When you destroyed the core of Those Other's holding, you gave us our chance. For had you not done that we, the mermen, the other harmless, happy creatures of this world, would have been wiped out. There would be no new beginning here, only a dark and horrible end." Raf blinked; to his surprise that other figure standing in the direct sunlight did not waver, and beyond the proudly held head was a stretch of turquoise sky. He could see the color! "Yes, you shall see with your eyes--and with your mind," now Dalgard spoke aloud. "And if the Spirit which rules all space is kind, you shall return to your own people. For you have served His cause well." Then, as if he were embarrassed by his own solemnity, Dalgard ended with a most prosaic inquiry: "Would you like shellfish for eating?" Moments later, wading out into the water-swirled sand, his boots kicked off, his toes feeling for the elusive shelled creatures no one could see, Raf felt happier, freer than he could ever remember having been before. It was going to be all right. He could _see_! He would find the ship! He laughed aloud at nothing and heard an answering chuckle and then a whoop of triumph from the scout stooping to claw one of their prey out of hiding. It was after they had eaten that Dalgard asked another question, one which did not seem important to Raf. "You have a close friend among the crew of your ship?" Raf hesitated. Now that he was obliged to consider the point, did he have any friends--let alone a close one--among the crew of the _RS 10_? Certainly he did not claim Wonstead who had shared his quarters--he honestly did not care if he never saw him again. The officers, the experts such as Lablet--quickly face and character of each swept through his mind and was as swiftly discarded. There was Soriki--He could not claim the com-tech as any special friend, but at least during their period together among the aliens he had come to know him better. Now, as if Dalgard had read his mind--and he probably had, thought Raf with a flash of the old resentment--he had another question. "And what was he--is he like?" Though the pilot could see little reason for this he answered as best he could, trying to build first a physical picture of the com-tech and then doing a little guessing as to what lay under the other's space-burned skin. Dalgard lay on his back, gazing up into the blue-green sky. Yet Raf knew that he was intent on every word. A merman padded up, settled down cross-legged beside the scout, as if he too were enthralled by the pilot's halting description of a man he might never see again. Then a second of the sea people came and a third, until Raf felt that some sort of a noiseless council was in progress. His words trailed away, and then Dalgard offered an explanation. "It will take us many, many days to reach the place where your ship is. And before we are able to complete that journey your friends may be gone. So we shall try something else--with your aid." Raf fingered the little bundle of his possessions. Even his helmet with its com phone was missing. "No," again Dalgard read his mind. "Your machines are of no use to you now. We shall try _our_ way." "How?" Wild thoughts of a big signal fire--But how could that be sighted across a mountain range. Of some sort of an improvised com unit-- "I said _our_ way." There was a smile on Dalgard's face, visible to Raf's slowly clearing vision. "We shall provide another kind of machine, and these"--he waved at the mermen--"will give us the power, or so we hope. Lie here," he gestured to the sand beside him, "and think only of your friend in the ship, in his natural surroundings. Try to hold that picture constant in your mind, letting no other thought trouble it." "Do you mean--send a message to him mentally!" Raf's reply was half protest. "Did I not so reach you when we were in the city--even before I knew of you as an individual?" the scout reminded him. "And such messages are doubly possible when they are sent from friend to friend." "But we were close then." "That is why--" again Dalgard indicated the mermen. "For them this is the natural means of communication. They will pick up your reaching thought, amplify it with their power, beam it north. Since your friend deals with matters of communication, let us hope that he will be sensitive to this method." Raf was only half convinced that it might work But he remembered how Dalgard had established contact with him, before, as the scout had pointed out, they had met. It was that voiceless cry for aid which had pulled him into this adventure in the first place. It was only fitting that something of the same process give _him_ help in return. Obediently he stretched out on the sand and closed his dim eyes, trying to picture Soriki in the small cabin which held the com, slouched in his bucket seat, his deceptive posture that of a lax idler, as he had seen him so many times. Soriki--his broad face with its flat cheekbones, its wide cheerful mouth, its heavy-lidded eyes. And having fixed Soriki's face, he tried to believe that he was now confronting the com-tech, speaking directly to him. "Come--come and get me--south--seashore--Soriki come and get me!" The words formed a kind of chant, a chant aimed at that familiar face in its familiar surroundings. "South--come and get me--" Raf struggled to think only of that, to allow nothing to break through that chant or disturb his picture of the scene he had called from memory. How long that attempt at communication lasted the pilot could not tell, for somehow he slipped from the deep concentration into sleep, dreamless and untroubled, from which he awoke with the befogged feeling that something important had happened. But had he gotten through? The ring of mermen was gone, and it was dawn, gray, chill with the forewarnings of rain in the air. He was reassured because he was certain that in spite of the gloom his sight was a fraction clearer than it had been the day before. But had they gotten through? As he arose, brushing the sand from him, he saw the scout splashing out of the sea, a fish impaled on his spear. "Did we get through?" Raf blurted out. "Since your friend cannot reply with the mind touch, we do not know. But later we shall try again." To Raf's peering gaze Dalgard's face had a drawn, gaunt look as if he had been at hard labor during the hours just past. He walked up the beach slowly, without the springing step Raf had come to associate with him. As he settled down to gut the fish with one of the bone knives, the scout repeated, "We can try again--!" Half an hour later, as the rain swept in from the sea, Raf knew that they would not have to try. His head went up, his face eager. He had known that sound too long and too well ever to mistake it--the drone of a flitter motor cutting through the swish of the falling water. Some trick of the cliffs behind them must be magnifying and projecting the sound, for he could not sight the machine. But it was coming. He whirled to Dalgard, only to see that the other was on his feet and had taken up his spear. "It is the flitter! Soriki heard--they're coming!" Raf hastened to assure him. For the last time he saw Dalgard's slow, warm smile, clearer than he had ever seen it before. Then the scout turned and trotted away, toward a fringing rock wall. Before he dropped out of sight behind that barrier he raised the spear in salute. "Swift and fortunate voyaging!" He gave the farewell of Homeport. Then Raf understood. The colonist meant just what he had said: he wanted no contact with the space ship. To Raf he had owed a debt and now that was paid. But the time was not yet when the men of Astra and the men of Terra should meet. A hundred years from now perhaps--or a thousand--but not yet. And remembering what had summoned the flitter winging toward him, Raf drew a deep breath. What would the men of Astra accomplish in a hundred years? What could those of Terra do to match them in knowledge? It was a challenge, and he alone knew just how much of a challenge. Homeport must remain his own secret. He had been guided to this place, saved by the mermen alone. Dalgard and his people must not exist as far as the crew of the _RS 10_ were concerned. For the last time he experienced the intimacy of the mind touch. "That is it--brother!" Then the sensation was gone as the black blot of the flitter buzzed out of the clouds. From behind the rocks Dalgard watched the pilot enter the strange machine. For a single moment he had an impulse to shout, to run forward, to surrender to his desire to see the others, the ship which had brought them through space and would, they confidently believed, take them back to the Terra he knew only as a legend of the past. But he mastered that desire. He had been right. The road had already forked and there was no going back. He must carry this secret all the rest of his life--he must be strong-willed enough so that Homeport would never know. Time--give them time to be what they could be. Then in a hundred years--or a thousand--But not yet! * * * * * "Nobody today is telling better stories of straight-forward interstellar adventure." --_New York Herald-Tribune_ When Raf Kurbi's Terran spaceship burst into unexplored skies of the far planet Astra and was immediately made welcome by the natives of a once-mighty metropolis, Kurbi was unaware of three vital things: One was that Astra already harbored an Earth colony--descended from refugees from the world of the previous century. Two was that these men and women were facing the greatest danger of their existence from a new outburst of the inhuman fiends who had once tyrannized Astra. Three was that the natives who were buying Kurbi's science know-how were those very fiends--and their intentions were implacably deadly for all humans, whether Earth born or STAR BORN. _It's an Andre Norton space adventure--and therefore the tops in its field!_ * * * * * Quotes from the reviews: "All science-fiction fans will thrill to these new adventures created by Andre Norton.... All who enjoy a good adventure about the unknown parts of our galaxy will find this an enchanting story." --_Jackson _(_Tenn._) _Sun_ "Superb science-fiction." --_Montgomery Advertiser_ "Andre Norton adds another star to her literary laurels." --_Cleveland Press_ "A good, clearly thought-out story." --_New York Times_ "Exciting and adventure-laden." --_Library Journal_ "Suspense and excitement.... A storyteller of the first class, this is one of her best." --_Fantasy & Science Fiction_ * * * * * NOW AVAILABLE AGAIN! PERRY RHODAN 95 each #1 Enterprise Stardust Scheer & Ernsting #2 The Radiant Dome Scheer & Ernsting #3 Galactic Alarm Mahr & Shols #4 Invasion from Space Ernsting & Mahr #5 The Vega Sector Scheer & Mahr #6 Secret of the Time Vault Darlton #7 Fortress of the Six Moons Scheer #8 The Galactic Riddle Darlton #9 Quest through Space and Time Darlton #10 The Ghosts of Gol Mahr #11 Planet of the Dying Sun Mahr #12 Rebels of Tuglan Darlton #13 The Immortal Unknown Darlton #14 Venus in Danger Mahr #15 Escape To Venus Mahr #16 Secret Barrier X Shols #17 The Venus Trap Mahr #18 Menace of the Mutant Master Darlton #19 Mutants vs. Mutants Darlton #20 The Thrall of Hypno Darlton _Available wherever paperbacks an sold or use this coupon._ * * * * * ace books, (Dept. MM) Box 576, Times Square Station New York, N.Y. 10036 Please send me titles checked above. I enclose $.................. Add 25 handling fee per copy. Name.................................................... Address................................................. City...................... State............ Zip........ * * * * * ANDRE NORTON Android at Arms $1.25 Beast Master $1.25 Breed to Come $1.25 Catseye $1.25 The Crossroads Of Time $1.25 Dark Piper $1.25 Daybreak 2250 A.D. $1.25 Defiant Agents $1.25 Dragon Magic $1.25 Dread Companion $1.25 Exiles of the Stars $1.25 Eye of the Monster $1.25 Forerunner Foray $1.50 Galactic Derelict $1.25 High Sorcery $1.25 Huon of the Horn $1.25 Ice Crown $1.25 Judgment on Janus $1.25 Key Out of Time $1.25 The Last Planet $1.25 Lord of Thunder $1.25 Moon of Three Rings $1.25 Night of Masks $1.25 Operation Time Search $1.25 Ordeal In Otherwhere $1.25 _Available wherever paperbacks are sold or use this coupon._ * * * * * ace books, (Dept. MM) Box 576, Times Square Station New York. N.Y. 10036 Please send me titles checked above. I enclose $................ Add 25 handling fee per copy. Name................................................ Address.......................................... City............... State........... Zip......... * * * * * ANDRE NORTON $1.25 each Plague Ship Postmarked the Stars Quest Crosstime Sargasso of Space Sea Seige Secret of the Lost Race. Shadow Hawk The Sioux Spaceman Sorceress of Witch World Star Born Star Gate Star Guard Star Hunter & Voodoo Planet The Stars are Ours Storm Over Warlock Three Against the WitchWorld The Time Traders Uncharted Stars Victory on Janus Warlock of the Witch World Web of the Witch World Witch World The X Factor Year Of The Unicorn The Zero Stone _Available wherever paperbacks are sold or use this coupon._ * * * * * ace books, (Dept. MM) Box 576, Times Square Station New York, N.Y. 10036 Please send me titles checked above. I enclose $............... Add 25 handling fee per copy. Name................................................... Address................................................. City...................... State............ Zip........ End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Star Born, by Andre Norton *** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK STAR BORN *** ***** This file should be named 18458-8.txt or 18458-8.zip ***** This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: http://www.gutenberg.org/1/8/4/5/18458/ Produced by Jason Isbell, Greg Weeks, Sankar Viswanathan, and the Online Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions will be renamed. Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation (and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without permission and without paying copyright royalties. Special rules, set forth in the General Terms of Use part of this license, apply to copying and distributing Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works to protect the PROJECT GUTENBERG-tm concept and trademark. Project Gutenberg is a registered trademark, and may not be used if you charge for the eBooks, unless you receive specific permission. If you do not charge anything for copies of this eBook, complying with the rules is very easy. You may use this eBook for nearly any purpose such as creation of derivative works, reports, performances and research. They may be modified and printed and given away--you may do practically ANYTHING with public domain eBooks. Redistribution is subject to the trademark license, especially commercial redistribution. *** START: FULL LICENSE *** THE FULL PROJECT GUTENBERG LICENSE PLEASE READ THIS BEFORE YOU DISTRIBUTE OR USE THIS WORK To protect the Project Gutenberg-tm mission of promoting the free distribution of electronic works, by using or distributing this work (or any other work associated in any way with the phrase "Project Gutenberg"), you agree to comply with all the terms of the Full Project Gutenberg-tm License (available with this file or online at http://gutenberg.org/license). Section 1. General Terms of Use and Redistributing Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works 1.A. By reading or using any part of this Project Gutenberg-tm electronic work, you indicate that you have read, understand, agree to and accept all the terms of this license and intellectual property (trademark/copyright) agreement. If you do not agree to abide by all the terms of this agreement, you must cease using and return or destroy all copies of Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works in your possession. If you paid a fee for obtaining a copy of or access to a Project Gutenberg-tm electronic work and you do not agree to be bound by the terms of this agreement, you may obtain a refund from the person or entity to whom you paid the fee as set forth in paragraph 1.E.8. 1.B. "Project Gutenberg" is a registered trademark. It may only be used on or associated in any way with an electronic work by people who agree to be bound by the terms of this agreement. There are a few things that you can do with most Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works even without complying with the full terms of this agreement. See paragraph 1.C below. There are a lot of things you can do with Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works if you follow the terms of this agreement and help preserve free future access to Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works. See paragraph 1.E below. 1.C. The Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation ("the Foundation" or PGLAF), owns a compilation copyright in the collection of Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works. Nearly all the individual works in the collection are in the public domain in the United States. If an individual work is in the public domain in the United States and you are located in the United States, we do not claim a right to prevent you from copying, distributing, performing, displaying or creating derivative works based on the work as long as all references to Project Gutenberg are removed. Of course, we hope that you will support the Project Gutenberg-tm mission of promoting free access to electronic works by freely sharing Project Gutenberg-tm works in compliance with the terms of this agreement for keeping the Project Gutenberg-tm name associated with the work. You can easily comply with the terms of this agreement by keeping this work in the same format with its attached full Project Gutenberg-tm License when you share it without charge with others. 1.D. The copyright laws of the place where you are located also govern what you can do with this work. Copyright laws in most countries are in a constant state of change. If you are outside the United States, check the laws of your country in addition to the terms of this agreement before downloading, copying, displaying, performing, distributing or creating derivative works based on this work or any other Project Gutenberg-tm work. The Foundation makes no representations concerning the copyright status of any work in any country outside the United States. 1.E. Unless you have removed all references to Project Gutenberg: 1.E.1. The following sentence, with active links to, or other immediate access to, the full Project Gutenberg-tm License must appear prominently whenever any copy of a Project Gutenberg-tm work (any work on which the phrase "Project Gutenberg" appears, or with which the phrase "Project Gutenberg" is associated) is accessed, displayed, performed, viewed, copied or distributed: This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org 1.E.2. If an individual Project Gutenberg-tm electronic work is derived from the public domain (does not contain a notice indicating that it is posted with permission of the copyright holder), the work can be copied and distributed to anyone in the United States without paying any fees or charges. If you are redistributing or providing access to a work with the phrase "Project Gutenberg" associated with or appearing on the work, you must comply either with the requirements of paragraphs 1.E.1 through 1.E.7 or obtain permission for the use of the work and the Project Gutenberg-tm trademark as set forth in paragraphs 1.E.8 or 1.E.9. 1.E.3. If an individual Project Gutenberg-tm electronic work is posted with the permission of the copyright holder, your use and distribution must comply with both paragraphs 1.E.1 through 1.E.7 and any additional terms imposed by the copyright holder. Additional terms will be linked to the Project Gutenberg-tm License for all works posted with the permission of the copyright holder found at the beginning of this work. 1.E.4. Do not unlink or detach or remove the full Project Gutenberg-tm License terms from this work, or any files containing a part of this work or any other work associated with Project Gutenberg-tm. 1.E.5. Do not copy, display, perform, distribute or redistribute this electronic work, or any part of this electronic work, without prominently displaying the sentence set forth in paragraph 1.E.1 with active links or immediate access to the full terms of the Project Gutenberg-tm License. 1.E.6. You may convert to and distribute this work in any binary, compressed, marked up, nonproprietary or proprietary form, including any word processing or hypertext form. However, if you provide access to or distribute copies of a Project Gutenberg-tm work in a format other than "Plain Vanilla ASCII" or other format used in the official version posted on the official Project Gutenberg-tm web site (www.gutenberg.org), you must, at no additional cost, fee or expense to the user, provide a copy, a means of exporting a copy, or a means of obtaining a copy upon request, of the work in its original "Plain Vanilla ASCII" or other form. Any alternate format must include the full Project Gutenberg-tm License as specified in paragraph 1.E.1. 1.E.7. Do not charge a fee for access to, viewing, displaying, performing, copying or distributing any Project Gutenberg-tm works unless you comply with paragraph 1.E.8 or 1.E.9. 1.E.8. You may charge a reasonable fee for copies of or providing access to or distributing Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works provided that - You pay a royalty fee of 20% of the gross profits you derive from the use of Project Gutenberg-tm works calculated using the method you already use to calculate your applicable taxes. The fee is owed to the owner of the Project Gutenberg-tm trademark, but he has agreed to donate royalties under this paragraph to the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation. Royalty payments must be paid within 60 days following each date on which you prepare (or are legally required to prepare) your periodic tax returns. Royalty payments should be clearly marked as such and sent to the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation at the address specified in Section 4, "Information about donations to the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation." - You provide a full refund of any money paid by a user who notifies you in writing (or by e-mail) within 30 days of receipt that s/he does not agree to the terms of the full Project Gutenberg-tm License. You must require such a user to return or destroy all copies of the works possessed in a physical medium and discontinue all use of and all access to other copies of Project Gutenberg-tm works. - You provide, in accordance with paragraph 1.F.3, a full refund of any money paid for a work or a replacement copy, if a defect in the electronic work is discovered and reported to you within 90 days of receipt of the work. - You comply with all other terms of this agreement for free distribution of Project Gutenberg-tm works. 1.E.9. If you wish to charge a fee or distribute a Project Gutenberg-tm electronic work or group of works on different terms than are set forth in this agreement, you must obtain permission in writing from both the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation and Michael Hart, the owner of the Project Gutenberg-tm trademark. Contact the Foundation as set forth in Section 3 below. 1.F. 1.F.1. Project Gutenberg volunteers and employees expend considerable effort to identify, do copyright research on, transcribe and proofread public domain works in creating the Project Gutenberg-tm collection. Despite these efforts, Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works, and the medium on which they may be stored, may contain "Defects," such as, but not limited to, incomplete, inaccurate or corrupt data, transcription errors, a copyright or other intellectual property infringement, a defective or damaged disk or other medium, a computer virus, or computer codes that damage or cannot be read by your equipment. 1.F.2. LIMITED WARRANTY, DISCLAIMER OF DAMAGES - Except for the "Right of Replacement or Refund" described in paragraph 1.F.3, the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation, the owner of the Project Gutenberg-tm trademark, and any other party distributing a Project Gutenberg-tm electronic work under this agreement, disclaim all liability to you for damages, costs and expenses, including legal fees. YOU AGREE THAT YOU HAVE NO REMEDIES FOR NEGLIGENCE, STRICT LIABILITY, BREACH OF WARRANTY OR BREACH OF CONTRACT EXCEPT THOSE PROVIDED IN PARAGRAPH F3. YOU AGREE THAT THE FOUNDATION, THE TRADEMARK OWNER, AND ANY DISTRIBUTOR UNDER THIS AGREEMENT WILL NOT BE LIABLE TO YOU FOR ACTUAL, DIRECT, INDIRECT, CONSEQUENTIAL, PUNITIVE OR INCIDENTAL DAMAGES EVEN IF YOU GIVE NOTICE OF THE POSSIBILITY OF SUCH DAMAGE. 1.F.3. LIMITED RIGHT OF REPLACEMENT OR REFUND - If you discover a defect in this electronic work within 90 days of receiving it, you can receive a refund of the money (if any) you paid for it by sending a written explanation to the person you received the work from. If you received the work on a physical medium, you must return the medium with your written explanation. The person or entity that provided you with the defective work may elect to provide a replacement copy in lieu of a refund. If you received the work electronically, the person or entity providing it to you may choose to give you a second opportunity to receive the work electronically in lieu of a refund. If the second copy is also defective, you may demand a refund in writing without further opportunities to fix the problem. 1.F.4. Except for the limited right of replacement or refund set forth in paragraph 1.F.3, this work is provided to you 'AS-IS' WITH NO OTHER WARRANTIES OF ANY KIND, EXPRESS OR IMPLIED, INCLUDING BUT NOT LIMITED TO WARRANTIES OF MERCHANTIBILITY OR FITNESS FOR ANY PURPOSE. 1.F.5. Some states do not allow disclaimers of certain implied warranties or the exclusion or limitation of certain types of damages. If any disclaimer or limitation set forth in this agreement violates the law of the state applicable to this agreement, the agreement shall be interpreted to make the maximum disclaimer or limitation permitted by the applicable state law. The invalidity or unenforceability of any provision of this agreement shall not void the remaining provisions. 1.F.6. INDEMNITY - You agree to indemnify and hold the Foundation, the trademark owner, any agent or employee of the Foundation, anyone providing copies of Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works in accordance with this agreement, and any volunteers associated with the production, promotion and distribution of Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works, harmless from all liability, costs and expenses, including legal fees, that arise directly or indirectly from any of the following which you do or cause to occur: (a) distribution of this or any Project Gutenberg-tm work, (b) alteration, modification, or additions or deletions to any Project Gutenberg-tm work, and (c) any Defect you cause. Section 2. Information about the Mission of Project Gutenberg-tm Project Gutenberg-tm is synonymous with the free distribution of electronic works in formats readable by the widest variety of computers including obsolete, old, middle-aged and new computers. It exists because of the efforts of hundreds of volunteers and donations from people in all walks of life. Volunteers and financial support to provide volunteers with the assistance they need, is critical to reaching Project Gutenberg-tm's goals and ensuring that the Project Gutenberg-tm collection will remain freely available for generations to come. In 2001, the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation was created to provide a secure and permanent future for Project Gutenberg-tm and future generations. To learn more about the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation and how your efforts and donations can help, see Sections 3 and 4 and the Foundation web page at http://www.pglaf.org. Section 3. Information about the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation The Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation is a non profit 501(c)(3) educational corporation organized under the laws of the state of Mississippi and granted tax exempt status by the Internal Revenue Service. The Foundation's EIN or federal tax identification number is 64-6221541. Its 501(c)(3) letter is posted at http://pglaf.org/fundraising. Contributions to the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation are tax deductible to the full extent permitted by U.S. federal laws and your state's laws. The Foundation's principal office is located at 4557 Melan Dr. S. Fairbanks, AK, 99712., but its volunteers and employees are scattered throughout numerous locations. Its business office is located at 809 North 1500 West, Salt Lake City, UT 84116, (801) 596-1887, email [email protected]. Email contact links and up to date contact information can be found at the Foundation's web site and official page at http://pglaf.org For additional contact information: Dr. Gregory B. Newby

doubly

How many times the word 'doubly' appears in the text?

you with that chauffeur we have had so much. I positively forbid your leaving the hotel else. It's a comfort after all, that you are serious. Kiss mama--" However, she descended with her mother in the elevator; there was a more public caress; and the captain in the Chinese dining-room placed Linda at a small table against the wall. There she had clams--she adored iced clams--creamed shrimps and oysters with potatoes _bordure_, alligator-pear salad and a beautiful charlotte cream with black walnuts. After this she sedately instructed the captain what to sign on the back of the dinner check--Linda Condon, room five hundred and seven--placed thirty-five cents beside the finger-bowl for the waiter, and made her way out to the news stand and the talkative girl who had it in charge. Exhausting the possibilities of gossip, and deciding not to go out to the theatre--in spite of the news girl's exciting description of a play called "The New Sin"--she was walking irresolutely through the high gilded and marble assemblage space when, unfortunately, she was captured by Mr. Moses Feldt. VII He led her to a high-backed lounge against the wall, where, seated on its extreme edge, he gazed silently at her with an expression of sentimental concern. Mr. Moses Feldt was a short round man, bald but for a fluffy rim of pale hair, and with the palest imaginable eyes in a countenance perpetually flushed by the physical necessity of accommodating his rotundity to awkward edges and conditions. As usual he was dressed with the nicest care--a band of white linen laid in the opening of his waistcoat, his scarf ornamented by a pear-shaped pearl on a diamond finished stem; his cloth-topped varnished black shoes glistened, while his short fat fingers clasped a prodigious unlighted cigar. At last, in a tone exactly suited to his gaze, he exclaimed: "So that naughty mama has gone out again and deserted Moses and her little Linda!" In what way her mother had deserted Mr. Feldt she failed to understand. Of course he wanted to marry them--the comprehensive phrase was his own--but that didn't include him in whatever they did. Principally it made a joke for their private entertainment. Mrs. Condon would mimic his eager manner, "Stella, let me take you both home where you'll have the best in the land," And, "Ladies like you ought to have a loving protection." Linda would laugh in her cool bell-like manner, and her mother add a satirical comment on the chance any Moses Feldt had of marrying her. Linda at once found him ridiculous and a being who forced a slighting warmth of liking. His appearance was preposterous, the ready emotion often too foolish for words; but underneath there was a--a goodness, a mysterious quality that stirred her heart to recognition. Certain rare things in life and experience affected her like that memory of an old happiness. She could never say what they might be, they came at the oddest times and by the most extraordinary means; but at their occurrence she would thrill for a moment as if in response to a sound of music. It was, for example, absurd that Mr. Moses Feldt, who was a Jew, should make her feel like that, but he did. And all the while that she was disagreeable to him, or mocking him behind his back, she was as uncomfortable and "horrid" as possible. While this fact, of course, only served to make her horrider still. At present she adopted the manner of a patience that nothing could quite exhaust; she was polite and formal, relentlessly correct in position. Mr. Moses Feldt, the cigar in his grasp, pressed a hand to the probable region of his heart. "You don't know how I think of you," he protested, tears in his eyes; "just the idea of you exposed to anything at all in hotels keeps me awake nights. Now it's a drunk, or a fresh feller on the elevator, or--" "It's nice of you," Linda said, "but you needn't worry. No one would dare to bother us. No one ever has." "You wouldn't know it if they did," he replied despondently, "at your age. And then your mother is so trustful and pleasant. Take those parties where she is so much--roof frolics and cocoanut groves and submarine caf s; they don't come to any good. Rowdy." Linda studied him coldly; if he criticized them further she would leave. He mopped a shining brow with a large colorful silk handkerchief. "It throws me into a sweat," he admitted. "Really, Mr. Feldt, you mustn't bother," she told him in one of her few impulses of friendliness. "You see, we are very experienced." He nodded without visible happiness at this truth. "I'm a jackass!" he cried. "Judith tells me that all the time. If you could only see my daughters," he continued with a new vigor; "such lovely girls as they are. One dark like you and the other fair as a daisy. Judith and Pansy. And my home that darling mama made before she died." The handkerchief was again in evidence. "Women and girls are funny. I can't get you there and not for nothing will Judith make a step. It may be pride but it seems to me such nonsense. I guess I'm old-fashioned and love's old-fashioned. Homes have gone out of style with the rest. It's all these restaurants and roofs now, yes, and studios. I tell the girls to stay away from them and from artists and so on. I don't encourage them at the apartment--a big lump of a feller with platinum bracelets on his wrists. What kind of a man would that be! I'd like to know who'd buy goods from him. "Sometimes, I'm sorry I got a lot of money, but it made mama happy. When she laid there at the last sick and couldn't live, I said, 'Oh, if you only won't leave me I'll give you gold to eat.'" He was so moved, his face so red, that Linda grew acutely embarrassed. People were looking at them. She rose stiffly but, in spite of her effort to escape him, he caught both her hands in his: "You say I'm an old idiot like Judith," he begged. This Linda declined to do. And, "Ask your mother if you won't come to dinner with the girls and me, cozy and at home--just once." "I'm afraid it will do no good," she admitted; "but I'll try." She realized that he was about to kiss her and moved quickly back. "I am almost afraid of you," he told her; "you're so distant and elegant. Judith and Pansy would get on with you first rate. I'll telephone tomorrow, in the afternoon. If the last flowers I sent you came I never heard of it." She thanked him appropriately for the roses and stood, erect and impersonal, as a man in the hotel livery helped him into a coat. Mr. Moses Feldt waved the still unlighted cigar at her and disappeared through the rotating door to the street. She gave a half-affected sigh of relief. Couldn't he see that her mother would never marry him. At the same time the strange thrill touched her; the sense of his absurdity vanished and she no longer remembered him perched like a painted rubber ball on the edge of the lounge. In the somber red plush and varnished wood of the reception-room of their suite he seemed again charming. Perhaps it was because he, too, adored her mother. That wasn't the reason. The familiar rare joy lingered. It seemed now as though she were to capture and understand it ... there was the vibration of music; and then, as always, she felt at once sad and brave. But, in spite of her old effort to the contrary, the feeling died away. Some day it would be clear to her; in the meanwhile Mr. Moses Feldt became once more only ridiculous. VIII In the morning she was dressed and had returned from breakfast before her mother stirred. The latter moved sharply, brought an arm up over her head, and swore. It was a long while before she got up or spoke again, and Linda never remembered her in a worse temper. When, finally, she came into the room where the breakfast-tray was laid, Linda was inexpressibly shocked--all that her mother had dreaded about her appearance had come disastrously true. Her face was hung with shadows like smudges of dirt and her eyes were netted with lines. Examining the dishes with distaste she told Linda that positively she could slap her for letting them bring up orange-juice. "How often must I explain to you that it freezes my fingers." Linda replied that she had repeated this in the breakfast-room and perhaps they had the wrong order. Neither her mother nor she said anything more until Mrs. Condon had finished her coffee and started a second cigarette. Then Linda related something of Mr. Moses Feldt's call on the evening before. "He cried right into his handkerchief," she said, "until I thought I should sink." Mrs. Condon eyed her daughter speculatively. "Now if you were only four years older," she declared, "it would be a good thing. He was simply born to be a husband." Horror filled Linda at the other's implication. "Yes," the elder insisted; "you couldn't do better; except, perhaps, for those girls of his. But then you'd have no trouble making them miserable. It's time to talk to you seriously about marriage." The smoke from the cigarette eddied in a gray veil across her unrefreshed face. "You're old for your age, Linda; your life has made you that; and, like I said last night, it is rather better than not. Well, for you marriage, and soon as possible, is the proper thing. Mind, I have never said a word against it; only what suits one doesn't suit another. Where it wouldn't be anything more than an old ladies' home to me you need it early and plenty. You are too intense. That doesn't go in the world. Men don't like it. They want their pleasure and comfort without strings tied to them; the intensity has to be theirs. "What you must get through your head is that love--whatever it is--and marriage are two different things, and if you are going to be successful they must be kept separate. You can't do anything with a man if you love him; but then you can't do anything with him if he doesn't love you. That's the whole thing in a breath. I am not crying down love, either; only I don't want you to think it is the bread and butter while it's nothing more than those little sweet cakes at Henri's. "Now any girl who marries a poor man or for love--they are the same thing--is a fool and deserves what she gets. No one thanks her for it, him least of all; because if she does love him it is only to make them miserable. She's always at him--where did he go and why did he stay so long, and no matter what he says she knows it's a lie. More times than not she's right, too. I can't tell you too often--men don't want to be loved, they like to be flattered and flattered and then flattered again. You'd never believe how childish they are. "Make them think they're it and don't give too much--that's the secret. Above all else don't be easy on them. Don't say 'all right, darling, next spring will do as well for a new suit.' Get it then and let him worry about paying for it, if worry he must. If they don't give it to you some one smarter will wear it. But I started to talk about getting married. "Choose a Moses Feldt, who will always be grateful to you, and keep him at it. They are so easy to land it's a kind of shame, too. Perhaps I am telling you this too soon, but I don't want any mistakes. Well, pick out your Moses--and mama will help you there--and suddenly, at the right time, show him that you can be affectionate; surprise him with it and you so staid and particular generally. Don't overdo it, promise more than you ever give-- "In the closet, dearie, just a little. That's a good girl. Mama's so dry." She rose, the silver cup of the flask in her hand, and moved inevitably to the mirror. "My hair's a sight," she remarked; "all strings. I believe I'll get a permanent wave. They say it lasts for six months or more, till the ends grow out. Makes a lot of it, too, and holds the front together. If you've ever had dye in your hair, I hear, it will break off like grass." Linda pondered over what she had been told of love and marriage; on the whole the exposition had been unsatisfactory. The latter she was able to grasp, but her mother had admitted an inability exactly to fix love. One fact, apparently, was clear--it was a nuisance and a hindrance to happiness, or rather to success. Love upset things. Still she had the strongest objection possible to living forever with a man like Mr. Moses Feldt. At once all that she had hoped for from life grew flat and uninteresting. She had no doubt of her mother's correctness and wisdom; the world was like that; she must make the best of it. There was some telephoning, inquiries, and she heard the elder make an appointment with a hair-dresser for three that afternoon. She wondered what it would be like to have your hair permanently waved and hoped that she would see it done. This, too, she realized, was a part of the necessity of always considering men--they liked your hair to be wavy. Hers was as straight and stupid as possible. She, in turn, examined herself in a mirror: the black bang fell exactly to her eyebrows, her face had no color other than the carnation of her lips and her deep blue eyes. She moved away and critically studied her figure; inches and inches too thin, she decided. Undoubtedly her mother was right, and she must marry at the first opportunity--if she could find a man, a rich man, who was willing. Her thoughts returned vaguely to the mystery, the nuisance, of love. Surely she had heard something before, immensely important, about it, and totally different from all her mother had said. Her mind was filled with the fantastic image of a forest, of dangers, and a fat china figure with curled plumes, a nodding head, that brushed her with fear and disgust. A shuddering panic took possession of her, flashes burned before her eyes, and she ran gasping to the perfumed soft reassurances of her mother. IX In a recurrence of her surprising concern of the day before Mrs. Condon declined to leave her dearest Linda alone; and, their arms caught together in a surging affection, they walked down Fifth Avenue toward the hairdresser's. There was a diffused gray sparkle of sunlight--it was early for the throngs--through which they passed rapidly to the accompaniment of a rapid eager chatter. Linda wore a deep smooth camel's hair cape, over which her intense black hair poured like ink, and her face was shaded by a dipping green velvet hat. Her mother, in one of the tightly cut suits she affected, had never been more like a perfect companion. They saw, in the window of a store for men, a set of violent purple wool underwear, and barely escaped hysterics at the thought of Mr. Moses Feldt in such a garb. They giggled idiotically at the spectacle of a countryman fearfully making the sharp descent from the top of a lurching omnibus. And then, when they had reached the place of Mrs. Condon's appointment, stopped at the show of elaborately waved hair on wax heads and chose which, probably, would resemble the elder and which, in a very short while now, Linda. There was an impressive interior, furnished in gray panels and silvery wood; and the young woman at the desk was more surprisingly waved than anything they had yet seen. M. Joseph would be ready almost immediately; and in the meanwhile Mrs. Condon could lay aside her things in preparation for the hair to be washed. She did this while Linda followed every movement with the deepest interest. At the back of the long room was a succession of small alcoves, each with an important-looking chair and mirror and shelves, a white basin, water-taps and rubber tubes. Settled, in comfort, Mrs. Condon's hair was spread out in a bright metal tray fastened to the back of the chair, and the attendant, a moist tired girl in a careless waist, sprayed the short thick gold-colored strands. "My," she observed, "what some wouldn't give for your shade! Never been touched, I can see, either. A lady comes in with real Titian, but yours is more select. It positively is Lillian Russell." While she talked her hands sped with incredible rapidity and skill. "The gentlemen don't notice it; of course not; oh, no! There was a girl here, a true blonde, but she didn't stay long--her own car, yes, indeed. Married her right out of the establishment. There wasn't any nonsense to her. "So this is your little girl! I'd never have believed it. Not that she hasn't a great deal of style, a great deal--almost, you might say, like an Egyptian. In the movies last night; her all over. It's a type that will need studying. Bertha Kalich. But for me--" Already, Linda saw, this part of the operation was done. The girl wheeled into position a case that had a fan and ring of blue flickering flames, and a cupped tube through which hot air was poured over her mother's head. M. Joseph strutted in, a small carefully dressed man with a diminutive pointed gray beard and formal curled mustache. He spoke with what Linda supposed was a French accent, and his manners, at least to them, were beautiful. But because the girl had not put out the blue flames quickly enough he turned to her with a voice of quivering rage. It was so unexpected, in the middle of his bowing and smooth assurances, that Linda was startled, and had to think about him all over. The result of this was a surprising dislike; she hated, even, to see him touch her mother, as he unnecessarily did in directing them into the enclosure for the permanent wave. The place itself filled her with the faint horror of instruments and the unknown. Above the chair where Mrs. Condon now sat there was a circle in the ceiling like the base of a chandelier and hanging down from it on twisted green wires were a great number of the strangest things imaginable: they were as thick as her wrist, but round, longer and hollow, white china inside and covered with brown wrapping. The wires of each, she discovered, led over a little wheel and down again to a swinging clock-like weight. In addition to this there were strange depressing handles on the wall by a dial with a jiggling needle and clearly marked numbers. The skill of the girl who had washed her mother's hair, however, was slight compared with M. Joseph's dexterity. The comb flashed in his white narrow hands; in no time at all every knot was urged out into a shining smoothness. "Just the front?" he inquired. Not waiting for Mrs. Condon's reply, he detached a strand from the mass over her brow, impaled it on a hairpin, while he picked up what might have been a thick steel knitting-needle with one end fastened in the middle of a silver quarter. The latter, it developed, had a hole in it, through which he drew the strand of hair, and then wrapped it with an angry tightness about the long projection. At this exact moment a new girl, but tired and moist, appeared, took a hank of white threads from a dressing-table, and tied that separate lock firmly. This, Linda counted, was repeated fifteen times; and when it was accomplished she was unable to repress a nervous laughter. Really, her mother looked too queer for words: the long rigid projections stood out all over her head like--like a huge pincushion; no, it was a porcupine. Mrs. Condon smiled in uncertain recognition of her daughter's mirth. Then Linda's attention followed M. Joseph to a table against a partition, where he secured a white cotton strip from a film of them soaking in a shallow tray, took up some white powder on the blade of a dessert knife and transferred it to the strip. This he wrapped and wrapped about the hair fastened on a spindle, tied it in turn, and dragged down one of the brown objects on wires, which, to Linda's great astonishment, fitted precisely over the cotton-bound hair. Again, fifteen times, M. Joseph did this, fastening each connection with the turn of a screw. When so much was accomplished her mother's hair, it seemed, had grown fast to the ceiling in a tangle of green ends. It was the most terrifying spectacle Linda had ever witnessed. Obscure thoughts of torture, of criminals executed by electricity, froze her in a set apprehension. The hair-dresser stepped over to the dials on the wall, and, with a sharp comprehensive glance at his apparatus, moved a handle as far as it would go. Nothing immediately happened, and Linda gave a relaxing sigh of relief. M. Joseph, however, became full of a painful attention. X He brought into view an unsuspected tube, with a cone of paper at its end, and bent over her mother, directing a stream of cold air against her head. "How do you feel?" he asked, with, Linda noticed, a startling loss of his first accent. Mrs. Condon so far felt well enough. Then, before Linda's startled gaze, every single one of the fifteen imprisoning tubes began to steam with an extraordinary vigor; not only did they steam, like teapots, but drops of water formed and slowly slid over her mother's face. If the process appeared weird at the beginning, now it was utterly fantastic. The little white vapor spurts played about Mrs. Condon's dripping countenance; they increased rather than diminished; actually it resembled a wrecked locomotive she had once seen. "How are you?" M. Joseph demanded nervously. "Is it hot anywhere?" With a sudden gesture she replied in a shaking voice, "Here." Instantly he was holding the paper cone with its cold air against her scalp, and the heat was subdued. He glanced nervously at his watch, and Mrs. Condon managed to ask, "How long?" "Twenty minutes." Dangerous as the whole proceeding seemed nothing really happened, and Linda's fears gradually faded into a mere curiosity and interest. A curtain hung across the door to the rest of the establishment, but it had been brushed partly aside; and she could see, in the compartment they had vacated, another man bending with waving irons over the liberated mass of a woman's hair. He was very much like M. Joseph, but he was younger and had only a dark scrap of mustache. As he caught up the hair with a quick double twist he leaned very close to the woman's face, whispering with an expression that never changed, an expression like that of the wax heads in the show-case. He bent so low that Linda was certain their cheeks had touched. She pondered at length over this, gazing now at the man beyond and now at M. Joseph flitting with the cold-air tube about her mother; wondering if, when she grew older, she would like a hair-dresser's cheek against hers. Linda decided not. The idea didn't shock her, the woman in the other space plainly liked it; still she decided she wouldn't. A different kind of man, she told herself, would be nicer. Her thoughts were interrupted by a sharp, unpleasant odor--the odor of scorched hair; and she was absolutely rigid with horror at an agonized cry from her mother. "It's burning me terribly," the latter cried. "Oh, I can't stand it. Stop! Stop!" M. Joseph, as white as plaster, rushed to the wall and reversed the handle, and Mrs. Condon started from the chair, her face now streaming with actual tears; but before she could escape the man threw himself on her shoulders. "You mustn't move," he whispered desperately, "you'll tear your hair out. I tell you no harm's been done. Everything is all right. Please, please don't cry like that. It will ruin my business. There are others in the establishment. Stop!" he shook her viciously. Linda had risen, terrorized; and Mrs. Condon, with waving plucking hands, was sobbing an appeal to be released. "My head, my head," she repeated. "I assure you"--the man motioned to a pallid girl to hold her in the chair. With a towel to protect his hand he undid a screw, lifted off the cap and untwisted the cotton from a bound lock of hair; releasing it, in turn, from the spindle it fell forward in a complete corkscrew over Mrs. Condon's face. "Do you see!" he demanded. "Perfect. I give you my word they'll all be like that. The cursed heat ran up on me," he added in a swift aside to his assistant. "Has Mrs. Bellows gone? Who's still in the place? Here, loose that binding ... thank God, that one is all right, too." Together they unfastened most of the connections, and a growing fringe of long remarkable curls marked Mrs. Condon's pain-drawn and dabbled face. Linda sobbed uncontrollably; but perhaps, after all, nothing frightful had happened. Her poor mother! Then fear again tightened about her heart at the perturbed expression that overtook the hair-dresser. He was trying in vain to remove one of the caps. She caught enigmatic words--"the borax, crystallized ... solid. It would take a plumber ... have to go." The connection was immovable. Even in her suffering Mrs. Condon implored M. Joseph to save her hair. Nothing, however, could be done; he admitted it with pale lips. The thing might be chiseled off; in the end he tried to force a release and the strand, with a renewal of Mrs. Condon's agony--now, in the interest of her appearance, heroically withstood--snapped short in the container. Rapidly recovering her vigor, she launched on a tirade against M. Joseph and his permanent waving establishment--Linda had never before heard her mother talk in such a loud brutal manner, nor use such heated unpleasant words, and the girl was flooded with a wretched shame. Still another lock, it was revealed, had been ruined, and crumbled to mere dust in its owner's fingers. "The law will provide for you," she promised. "Your hair was dyed," the proprietor returned vindictively. "The girl who washed it will testify. Every one is warned against the permanent if their hair has been colored. So it was at your own risk." "My head's never been touched with dye," Mrs. Condon shrilly answered. "You lying little ape. And well does that young woman know it. She complimented me herself on a true blonde." The girl had, too, right before Linda. "You ought to be thrashed out of the city." "Your money will be given back to you," M. Joseph told her. Outside they found a taxi, and sped back to their hotel. Above, Mrs. Condon removed her hat; and, before the uncompromising mirror, studied her wrecked hair--a frizzled vacancy was directly over her left brow--and haggard face. When she finally turned to Linda, her manner, her words, were solemn. "I'm middle-aged," she said. A dreary silence enveloped them sitting in the dark reception-room while Mrs. Condon restlessly shredded unlighted cigarettes on the floor. She had made no effort to repair the damages to her appearance, and when the telephone bell sharply sounded, she reached out in a slovenly negligence of manner. Linda could hear a blurred articulation and her mother answering listlessly. The latter at last said: "Very well, at seven then; you'll stop for us." She hung up the receiver, stared blankly at Linda, and then went off into a harsh mirth. "Oh, my God!" she cried; "the old ladies' home!" XI With her mother away on a wedding-trip with Mr. Moses Feldt, Linda was suddenly projected into the companionship of his two daughters. One, as he had said, was light, but a different fairness from Mrs. Condon's--richly thick, like honey; while Judith, the elder, who must have been twenty, was dark in skin, in everything but her eyes, which were a contrasting ashen-violet. She spoke at once of Linda's flawless whiteness: "A magnolia," she said, in a deliberate dark voice; "you are quite a gorgeous child. Do you mind my saying that your clothes are rather quaint? They aren't inevitable, and yours ought to be that." They were at lunch in the Feldt dining-room, an interior of heavy ornately carved black wood, panels of Chinese embroidery in imperial yellow, and a neutral mauve carpet. The effect, with glittering iridescent pyramids of glass, massive frosted repouss silver, burnished gold-plate and a wide table decoration of orchids and fern, was tropical and intense. It was evident to Linda that the Feldts were very rich indeed. The entire apartment resembled the dining-room, while the building itself filled a whole city block, with a garden and fountains like an elaborate public square. Linda, however, wasn't particularly impressed by such show; she saw that Judith and Pansy had expected that of her; but she was determined not to exhibit a surprise that would imply any changes in her mother's and her condition. In addition, Linda calmly took such surroundings for granted. Her primary conception of possible existence was elegance; its necessity had so entered into her being that it

memory

How many times the word 'memory' appears in the text?

you with that chauffeur we have had so much. I positively forbid your leaving the hotel else. It's a comfort after all, that you are serious. Kiss mama--" However, she descended with her mother in the elevator; there was a more public caress; and the captain in the Chinese dining-room placed Linda at a small table against the wall. There she had clams--she adored iced clams--creamed shrimps and oysters with potatoes _bordure_, alligator-pear salad and a beautiful charlotte cream with black walnuts. After this she sedately instructed the captain what to sign on the back of the dinner check--Linda Condon, room five hundred and seven--placed thirty-five cents beside the finger-bowl for the waiter, and made her way out to the news stand and the talkative girl who had it in charge. Exhausting the possibilities of gossip, and deciding not to go out to the theatre--in spite of the news girl's exciting description of a play called "The New Sin"--she was walking irresolutely through the high gilded and marble assemblage space when, unfortunately, she was captured by Mr. Moses Feldt. VII He led her to a high-backed lounge against the wall, where, seated on its extreme edge, he gazed silently at her with an expression of sentimental concern. Mr. Moses Feldt was a short round man, bald but for a fluffy rim of pale hair, and with the palest imaginable eyes in a countenance perpetually flushed by the physical necessity of accommodating his rotundity to awkward edges and conditions. As usual he was dressed with the nicest care--a band of white linen laid in the opening of his waistcoat, his scarf ornamented by a pear-shaped pearl on a diamond finished stem; his cloth-topped varnished black shoes glistened, while his short fat fingers clasped a prodigious unlighted cigar. At last, in a tone exactly suited to his gaze, he exclaimed: "So that naughty mama has gone out again and deserted Moses and her little Linda!" In what way her mother had deserted Mr. Feldt she failed to understand. Of course he wanted to marry them--the comprehensive phrase was his own--but that didn't include him in whatever they did. Principally it made a joke for their private entertainment. Mrs. Condon would mimic his eager manner, "Stella, let me take you both home where you'll have the best in the land," And, "Ladies like you ought to have a loving protection." Linda would laugh in her cool bell-like manner, and her mother add a satirical comment on the chance any Moses Feldt had of marrying her. Linda at once found him ridiculous and a being who forced a slighting warmth of liking. His appearance was preposterous, the ready emotion often too foolish for words; but underneath there was a--a goodness, a mysterious quality that stirred her heart to recognition. Certain rare things in life and experience affected her like that memory of an old happiness. She could never say what they might be, they came at the oddest times and by the most extraordinary means; but at their occurrence she would thrill for a moment as if in response to a sound of music. It was, for example, absurd that Mr. Moses Feldt, who was a Jew, should make her feel like that, but he did. And all the while that she was disagreeable to him, or mocking him behind his back, she was as uncomfortable and "horrid" as possible. While this fact, of course, only served to make her horrider still. At present she adopted the manner of a patience that nothing could quite exhaust; she was polite and formal, relentlessly correct in position. Mr. Moses Feldt, the cigar in his grasp, pressed a hand to the probable region of his heart. "You don't know how I think of you," he protested, tears in his eyes; "just the idea of you exposed to anything at all in hotels keeps me awake nights. Now it's a drunk, or a fresh feller on the elevator, or--" "It's nice of you," Linda said, "but you needn't worry. No one would dare to bother us. No one ever has." "You wouldn't know it if they did," he replied despondently, "at your age. And then your mother is so trustful and pleasant. Take those parties where she is so much--roof frolics and cocoanut groves and submarine caf s; they don't come to any good. Rowdy." Linda studied him coldly; if he criticized them further she would leave. He mopped a shining brow with a large colorful silk handkerchief. "It throws me into a sweat," he admitted. "Really, Mr. Feldt, you mustn't bother," she told him in one of her few impulses of friendliness. "You see, we are very experienced." He nodded without visible happiness at this truth. "I'm a jackass!" he cried. "Judith tells me that all the time. If you could only see my daughters," he continued with a new vigor; "such lovely girls as they are. One dark like you and the other fair as a daisy. Judith and Pansy. And my home that darling mama made before she died." The handkerchief was again in evidence. "Women and girls are funny. I can't get you there and not for nothing will Judith make a step. It may be pride but it seems to me such nonsense. I guess I'm old-fashioned and love's old-fashioned. Homes have gone out of style with the rest. It's all these restaurants and roofs now, yes, and studios. I tell the girls to stay away from them and from artists and so on. I don't encourage them at the apartment--a big lump of a feller with platinum bracelets on his wrists. What kind of a man would that be! I'd like to know who'd buy goods from him. "Sometimes, I'm sorry I got a lot of money, but it made mama happy. When she laid there at the last sick and couldn't live, I said, 'Oh, if you only won't leave me I'll give you gold to eat.'" He was so moved, his face so red, that Linda grew acutely embarrassed. People were looking at them. She rose stiffly but, in spite of her effort to escape him, he caught both her hands in his: "You say I'm an old idiot like Judith," he begged. This Linda declined to do. And, "Ask your mother if you won't come to dinner with the girls and me, cozy and at home--just once." "I'm afraid it will do no good," she admitted; "but I'll try." She realized that he was about to kiss her and moved quickly back. "I am almost afraid of you," he told her; "you're so distant and elegant. Judith and Pansy would get on with you first rate. I'll telephone tomorrow, in the afternoon. If the last flowers I sent you came I never heard of it." She thanked him appropriately for the roses and stood, erect and impersonal, as a man in the hotel livery helped him into a coat. Mr. Moses Feldt waved the still unlighted cigar at her and disappeared through the rotating door to the street. She gave a half-affected sigh of relief. Couldn't he see that her mother would never marry him. At the same time the strange thrill touched her; the sense of his absurdity vanished and she no longer remembered him perched like a painted rubber ball on the edge of the lounge. In the somber red plush and varnished wood of the reception-room of their suite he seemed again charming. Perhaps it was because he, too, adored her mother. That wasn't the reason. The familiar rare joy lingered. It seemed now as though she were to capture and understand it ... there was the vibration of music; and then, as always, she felt at once sad and brave. But, in spite of her old effort to the contrary, the feeling died away. Some day it would be clear to her; in the meanwhile Mr. Moses Feldt became once more only ridiculous. VIII In the morning she was dressed and had returned from breakfast before her mother stirred. The latter moved sharply, brought an arm up over her head, and swore. It was a long while before she got up or spoke again, and Linda never remembered her in a worse temper. When, finally, she came into the room where the breakfast-tray was laid, Linda was inexpressibly shocked--all that her mother had dreaded about her appearance had come disastrously true. Her face was hung with shadows like smudges of dirt and her eyes were netted with lines. Examining the dishes with distaste she told Linda that positively she could slap her for letting them bring up orange-juice. "How often must I explain to you that it freezes my fingers." Linda replied that she had repeated this in the breakfast-room and perhaps they had the wrong order. Neither her mother nor she said anything more until Mrs. Condon had finished her coffee and started a second cigarette. Then Linda related something of Mr. Moses Feldt's call on the evening before. "He cried right into his handkerchief," she said, "until I thought I should sink." Mrs. Condon eyed her daughter speculatively. "Now if you were only four years older," she declared, "it would be a good thing. He was simply born to be a husband." Horror filled Linda at the other's implication. "Yes," the elder insisted; "you couldn't do better; except, perhaps, for those girls of his. But then you'd have no trouble making them miserable. It's time to talk to you seriously about marriage." The smoke from the cigarette eddied in a gray veil across her unrefreshed face. "You're old for your age, Linda; your life has made you that; and, like I said last night, it is rather better than not. Well, for you marriage, and soon as possible, is the proper thing. Mind, I have never said a word against it; only what suits one doesn't suit another. Where it wouldn't be anything more than an old ladies' home to me you need it early and plenty. You are too intense. That doesn't go in the world. Men don't like it. They want their pleasure and comfort without strings tied to them; the intensity has to be theirs. "What you must get through your head is that love--whatever it is--and marriage are two different things, and if you are going to be successful they must be kept separate. You can't do anything with a man if you love him; but then you can't do anything with him if he doesn't love you. That's the whole thing in a breath. I am not crying down love, either; only I don't want you to think it is the bread and butter while it's nothing more than those little sweet cakes at Henri's. "Now any girl who marries a poor man or for love--they are the same thing--is a fool and deserves what she gets. No one thanks her for it, him least of all; because if she does love him it is only to make them miserable. She's always at him--where did he go and why did he stay so long, and no matter what he says she knows it's a lie. More times than not she's right, too. I can't tell you too often--men don't want to be loved, they like to be flattered and flattered and then flattered again. You'd never believe how childish they are. "Make them think they're it and don't give too much--that's the secret. Above all else don't be easy on them. Don't say 'all right, darling, next spring will do as well for a new suit.' Get it then and let him worry about paying for it, if worry he must. If they don't give it to you some one smarter will wear it. But I started to talk about getting married. "Choose a Moses Feldt, who will always be grateful to you, and keep him at it. They are so easy to land it's a kind of shame, too. Perhaps I am telling you this too soon, but I don't want any mistakes. Well, pick out your Moses--and mama will help you there--and suddenly, at the right time, show him that you can be affectionate; surprise him with it and you so staid and particular generally. Don't overdo it, promise more than you ever give-- "In the closet, dearie, just a little. That's a good girl. Mama's so dry." She rose, the silver cup of the flask in her hand, and moved inevitably to the mirror. "My hair's a sight," she remarked; "all strings. I believe I'll get a permanent wave. They say it lasts for six months or more, till the ends grow out. Makes a lot of it, too, and holds the front together. If you've ever had dye in your hair, I hear, it will break off like grass." Linda pondered over what she had been told of love and marriage; on the whole the exposition had been unsatisfactory. The latter she was able to grasp, but her mother had admitted an inability exactly to fix love. One fact, apparently, was clear--it was a nuisance and a hindrance to happiness, or rather to success. Love upset things. Still she had the strongest objection possible to living forever with a man like Mr. Moses Feldt. At once all that she had hoped for from life grew flat and uninteresting. She had no doubt of her mother's correctness and wisdom; the world was like that; she must make the best of it. There was some telephoning, inquiries, and she heard the elder make an appointment with a hair-dresser for three that afternoon. She wondered what it would be like to have your hair permanently waved and hoped that she would see it done. This, too, she realized, was a part of the necessity of always considering men--they liked your hair to be wavy. Hers was as straight and stupid as possible. She, in turn, examined herself in a mirror: the black bang fell exactly to her eyebrows, her face had no color other than the carnation of her lips and her deep blue eyes. She moved away and critically studied her figure; inches and inches too thin, she decided. Undoubtedly her mother was right, and she must marry at the first opportunity--if she could find a man, a rich man, who was willing. Her thoughts returned vaguely to the mystery, the nuisance, of love. Surely she had heard something before, immensely important, about it, and totally different from all her mother had said. Her mind was filled with the fantastic image of a forest, of dangers, and a fat china figure with curled plumes, a nodding head, that brushed her with fear and disgust. A shuddering panic took possession of her, flashes burned before her eyes, and she ran gasping to the perfumed soft reassurances of her mother. IX In a recurrence of her surprising concern of the day before Mrs. Condon declined to leave her dearest Linda alone; and, their arms caught together in a surging affection, they walked down Fifth Avenue toward the hairdresser's. There was a diffused gray sparkle of sunlight--it was early for the throngs--through which they passed rapidly to the accompaniment of a rapid eager chatter. Linda wore a deep smooth camel's hair cape, over which her intense black hair poured like ink, and her face was shaded by a dipping green velvet hat. Her mother, in one of the tightly cut suits she affected, had never been more like a perfect companion. They saw, in the window of a store for men, a set of violent purple wool underwear, and barely escaped hysterics at the thought of Mr. Moses Feldt in such a garb. They giggled idiotically at the spectacle of a countryman fearfully making the sharp descent from the top of a lurching omnibus. And then, when they had reached the place of Mrs. Condon's appointment, stopped at the show of elaborately waved hair on wax heads and chose which, probably, would resemble the elder and which, in a very short while now, Linda. There was an impressive interior, furnished in gray panels and silvery wood; and the young woman at the desk was more surprisingly waved than anything they had yet seen. M. Joseph would be ready almost immediately; and in the meanwhile Mrs. Condon could lay aside her things in preparation for the hair to be washed. She did this while Linda followed every movement with the deepest interest. At the back of the long room was a succession of small alcoves, each with an important-looking chair and mirror and shelves, a white basin, water-taps and rubber tubes. Settled, in comfort, Mrs. Condon's hair was spread out in a bright metal tray fastened to the back of the chair, and the attendant, a moist tired girl in a careless waist, sprayed the short thick gold-colored strands. "My," she observed, "what some wouldn't give for your shade! Never been touched, I can see, either. A lady comes in with real Titian, but yours is more select. It positively is Lillian Russell." While she talked her hands sped with incredible rapidity and skill. "The gentlemen don't notice it; of course not; oh, no! There was a girl here, a true blonde, but she didn't stay long--her own car, yes, indeed. Married her right out of the establishment. There wasn't any nonsense to her. "So this is your little girl! I'd never have believed it. Not that she hasn't a great deal of style, a great deal--almost, you might say, like an Egyptian. In the movies last night; her all over. It's a type that will need studying. Bertha Kalich. But for me--" Already, Linda saw, this part of the operation was done. The girl wheeled into position a case that had a fan and ring of blue flickering flames, and a cupped tube through which hot air was poured over her mother's head. M. Joseph strutted in, a small carefully dressed man with a diminutive pointed gray beard and formal curled mustache. He spoke with what Linda supposed was a French accent, and his manners, at least to them, were beautiful. But because the girl had not put out the blue flames quickly enough he turned to her with a voice of quivering rage. It was so unexpected, in the middle of his bowing and smooth assurances, that Linda was startled, and had to think about him all over. The result of this was a surprising dislike; she hated, even, to see him touch her mother, as he unnecessarily did in directing them into the enclosure for the permanent wave. The place itself filled her with the faint horror of instruments and the unknown. Above the chair where Mrs. Condon now sat there was a circle in the ceiling like the base of a chandelier and hanging down from it on twisted green wires were a great number of the strangest things imaginable: they were as thick as her wrist, but round, longer and hollow, white china inside and covered with brown wrapping. The wires of each, she discovered, led over a little wheel and down again to a swinging clock-like weight. In addition to this there were strange depressing handles on the wall by a dial with a jiggling needle and clearly marked numbers. The skill of the girl who had washed her mother's hair, however, was slight compared with M. Joseph's dexterity. The comb flashed in his white narrow hands; in no time at all every knot was urged out into a shining smoothness. "Just the front?" he inquired. Not waiting for Mrs. Condon's reply, he detached a strand from the mass over her brow, impaled it on a hairpin, while he picked up what might have been a thick steel knitting-needle with one end fastened in the middle of a silver quarter. The latter, it developed, had a hole in it, through which he drew the strand of hair, and then wrapped it with an angry tightness about the long projection. At this exact moment a new girl, but tired and moist, appeared, took a hank of white threads from a dressing-table, and tied that separate lock firmly. This, Linda counted, was repeated fifteen times; and when it was accomplished she was unable to repress a nervous laughter. Really, her mother looked too queer for words: the long rigid projections stood out all over her head like--like a huge pincushion; no, it was a porcupine. Mrs. Condon smiled in uncertain recognition of her daughter's mirth. Then Linda's attention followed M. Joseph to a table against a partition, where he secured a white cotton strip from a film of them soaking in a shallow tray, took up some white powder on the blade of a dessert knife and transferred it to the strip. This he wrapped and wrapped about the hair fastened on a spindle, tied it in turn, and dragged down one of the brown objects on wires, which, to Linda's great astonishment, fitted precisely over the cotton-bound hair. Again, fifteen times, M. Joseph did this, fastening each connection with the turn of a screw. When so much was accomplished her mother's hair, it seemed, had grown fast to the ceiling in a tangle of green ends. It was the most terrifying spectacle Linda had ever witnessed. Obscure thoughts of torture, of criminals executed by electricity, froze her in a set apprehension. The hair-dresser stepped over to the dials on the wall, and, with a sharp comprehensive glance at his apparatus, moved a handle as far as it would go. Nothing immediately happened, and Linda gave a relaxing sigh of relief. M. Joseph, however, became full of a painful attention. X He brought into view an unsuspected tube, with a cone of paper at its end, and bent over her mother, directing a stream of cold air against her head. "How do you feel?" he asked, with, Linda noticed, a startling loss of his first accent. Mrs. Condon so far felt well enough. Then, before Linda's startled gaze, every single one of the fifteen imprisoning tubes began to steam with an extraordinary vigor; not only did they steam, like teapots, but drops of water formed and slowly slid over her mother's face. If the process appeared weird at the beginning, now it was utterly fantastic. The little white vapor spurts played about Mrs. Condon's dripping countenance; they increased rather than diminished; actually it resembled a wrecked locomotive she had once seen. "How are you?" M. Joseph demanded nervously. "Is it hot anywhere?" With a sudden gesture she replied in a shaking voice, "Here." Instantly he was holding the paper cone with its cold air against her scalp, and the heat was subdued. He glanced nervously at his watch, and Mrs. Condon managed to ask, "How long?" "Twenty minutes." Dangerous as the whole proceeding seemed nothing really happened, and Linda's fears gradually faded into a mere curiosity and interest. A curtain hung across the door to the rest of the establishment, but it had been brushed partly aside; and she could see, in the compartment they had vacated, another man bending with waving irons over the liberated mass of a woman's hair. He was very much like M. Joseph, but he was younger and had only a dark scrap of mustache. As he caught up the hair with a quick double twist he leaned very close to the woman's face, whispering with an expression that never changed, an expression like that of the wax heads in the show-case. He bent so low that Linda was certain their cheeks had touched. She pondered at length over this, gazing now at the man beyond and now at M. Joseph flitting with the cold-air tube about her mother; wondering if, when she grew older, she would like a hair-dresser's cheek against hers. Linda decided not. The idea didn't shock her, the woman in the other space plainly liked it; still she decided she wouldn't. A different kind of man, she told herself, would be nicer. Her thoughts were interrupted by a sharp, unpleasant odor--the odor of scorched hair; and she was absolutely rigid with horror at an agonized cry from her mother. "It's burning me terribly," the latter cried. "Oh, I can't stand it. Stop! Stop!" M. Joseph, as white as plaster, rushed to the wall and reversed the handle, and Mrs. Condon started from the chair, her face now streaming with actual tears; but before she could escape the man threw himself on her shoulders. "You mustn't move," he whispered desperately, "you'll tear your hair out. I tell you no harm's been done. Everything is all right. Please, please don't cry like that. It will ruin my business. There are others in the establishment. Stop!" he shook her viciously. Linda had risen, terrorized; and Mrs. Condon, with waving plucking hands, was sobbing an appeal to be released. "My head, my head," she repeated. "I assure you"--the man motioned to a pallid girl to hold her in the chair. With a towel to protect his hand he undid a screw, lifted off the cap and untwisted the cotton from a bound lock of hair; releasing it, in turn, from the spindle it fell forward in a complete corkscrew over Mrs. Condon's face. "Do you see!" he demanded. "Perfect. I give you my word they'll all be like that. The cursed heat ran up on me," he added in a swift aside to his assistant. "Has Mrs. Bellows gone? Who's still in the place? Here, loose that binding ... thank God, that one is all right, too." Together they unfastened most of the connections, and a growing fringe of long remarkable curls marked Mrs. Condon's pain-drawn and dabbled face. Linda sobbed uncontrollably; but perhaps, after all, nothing frightful had happened. Her poor mother! Then fear again tightened about her heart at the perturbed expression that overtook the hair-dresser. He was trying in vain to remove one of the caps. She caught enigmatic words--"the borax, crystallized ... solid. It would take a plumber ... have to go." The connection was immovable. Even in her suffering Mrs. Condon implored M. Joseph to save her hair. Nothing, however, could be done; he admitted it with pale lips. The thing might be chiseled off; in the end he tried to force a release and the strand, with a renewal of Mrs. Condon's agony--now, in the interest of her appearance, heroically withstood--snapped short in the container. Rapidly recovering her vigor, she launched on a tirade against M. Joseph and his permanent waving establishment--Linda had never before heard her mother talk in such a loud brutal manner, nor use such heated unpleasant words, and the girl was flooded with a wretched shame. Still another lock, it was revealed, had been ruined, and crumbled to mere dust in its owner's fingers. "The law will provide for you," she promised. "Your hair was dyed," the proprietor returned vindictively. "The girl who washed it will testify. Every one is warned against the permanent if their hair has been colored. So it was at your own risk." "My head's never been touched with dye," Mrs. Condon shrilly answered. "You lying little ape. And well does that young woman know it. She complimented me herself on a true blonde." The girl had, too, right before Linda. "You ought to be thrashed out of the city." "Your money will be given back to you," M. Joseph told her. Outside they found a taxi, and sped back to their hotel. Above, Mrs. Condon removed her hat; and, before the uncompromising mirror, studied her wrecked hair--a frizzled vacancy was directly over her left brow--and haggard face. When she finally turned to Linda, her manner, her words, were solemn. "I'm middle-aged," she said. A dreary silence enveloped them sitting in the dark reception-room while Mrs. Condon restlessly shredded unlighted cigarettes on the floor. She had made no effort to repair the damages to her appearance, and when the telephone bell sharply sounded, she reached out in a slovenly negligence of manner. Linda could hear a blurred articulation and her mother answering listlessly. The latter at last said: "Very well, at seven then; you'll stop for us." She hung up the receiver, stared blankly at Linda, and then went off into a harsh mirth. "Oh, my God!" she cried; "the old ladies' home!" XI With her mother away on a wedding-trip with Mr. Moses Feldt, Linda was suddenly projected into the companionship of his two daughters. One, as he had said, was light, but a different fairness from Mrs. Condon's--richly thick, like honey; while Judith, the elder, who must have been twenty, was dark in skin, in everything but her eyes, which were a contrasting ashen-violet. She spoke at once of Linda's flawless whiteness: "A magnolia," she said, in a deliberate dark voice; "you are quite a gorgeous child. Do you mind my saying that your clothes are rather quaint? They aren't inevitable, and yours ought to be that." They were at lunch in the Feldt dining-room, an interior of heavy ornately carved black wood, panels of Chinese embroidery in imperial yellow, and a neutral mauve carpet. The effect, with glittering iridescent pyramids of glass, massive frosted repouss silver, burnished gold-plate and a wide table decoration of orchids and fern, was tropical and intense. It was evident to Linda that the Feldts were very rich indeed. The entire apartment resembled the dining-room, while the building itself filled a whole city block, with a garden and fountains like an elaborate public square. Linda, however, wasn't particularly impressed by such show; she saw that Judith and Pansy had expected that of her; but she was determined not to exhibit a surprise that would imply any changes in her mother's and her condition. In addition, Linda calmly took such surroundings for granted. Her primary conception of possible existence was elegance; its necessity had so entered into her being that it

dishes

How many times the word 'dishes' appears in the text?

you with that chauffeur we have had so much. I positively forbid your leaving the hotel else. It's a comfort after all, that you are serious. Kiss mama--" However, she descended with her mother in the elevator; there was a more public caress; and the captain in the Chinese dining-room placed Linda at a small table against the wall. There she had clams--she adored iced clams--creamed shrimps and oysters with potatoes _bordure_, alligator-pear salad and a beautiful charlotte cream with black walnuts. After this she sedately instructed the captain what to sign on the back of the dinner check--Linda Condon, room five hundred and seven--placed thirty-five cents beside the finger-bowl for the waiter, and made her way out to the news stand and the talkative girl who had it in charge. Exhausting the possibilities of gossip, and deciding not to go out to the theatre--in spite of the news girl's exciting description of a play called "The New Sin"--she was walking irresolutely through the high gilded and marble assemblage space when, unfortunately, she was captured by Mr. Moses Feldt. VII He led her to a high-backed lounge against the wall, where, seated on its extreme edge, he gazed silently at her with an expression of sentimental concern. Mr. Moses Feldt was a short round man, bald but for a fluffy rim of pale hair, and with the palest imaginable eyes in a countenance perpetually flushed by the physical necessity of accommodating his rotundity to awkward edges and conditions. As usual he was dressed with the nicest care--a band of white linen laid in the opening of his waistcoat, his scarf ornamented by a pear-shaped pearl on a diamond finished stem; his cloth-topped varnished black shoes glistened, while his short fat fingers clasped a prodigious unlighted cigar. At last, in a tone exactly suited to his gaze, he exclaimed: "So that naughty mama has gone out again and deserted Moses and her little Linda!" In what way her mother had deserted Mr. Feldt she failed to understand. Of course he wanted to marry them--the comprehensive phrase was his own--but that didn't include him in whatever they did. Principally it made a joke for their private entertainment. Mrs. Condon would mimic his eager manner, "Stella, let me take you both home where you'll have the best in the land," And, "Ladies like you ought to have a loving protection." Linda would laugh in her cool bell-like manner, and her mother add a satirical comment on the chance any Moses Feldt had of marrying her. Linda at once found him ridiculous and a being who forced a slighting warmth of liking. His appearance was preposterous, the ready emotion often too foolish for words; but underneath there was a--a goodness, a mysterious quality that stirred her heart to recognition. Certain rare things in life and experience affected her like that memory of an old happiness. She could never say what they might be, they came at the oddest times and by the most extraordinary means; but at their occurrence she would thrill for a moment as if in response to a sound of music. It was, for example, absurd that Mr. Moses Feldt, who was a Jew, should make her feel like that, but he did. And all the while that she was disagreeable to him, or mocking him behind his back, she was as uncomfortable and "horrid" as possible. While this fact, of course, only served to make her horrider still. At present she adopted the manner of a patience that nothing could quite exhaust; she was polite and formal, relentlessly correct in position. Mr. Moses Feldt, the cigar in his grasp, pressed a hand to the probable region of his heart. "You don't know how I think of you," he protested, tears in his eyes; "just the idea of you exposed to anything at all in hotels keeps me awake nights. Now it's a drunk, or a fresh feller on the elevator, or--" "It's nice of you," Linda said, "but you needn't worry. No one would dare to bother us. No one ever has." "You wouldn't know it if they did," he replied despondently, "at your age. And then your mother is so trustful and pleasant. Take those parties where she is so much--roof frolics and cocoanut groves and submarine caf s; they don't come to any good. Rowdy." Linda studied him coldly; if he criticized them further she would leave. He mopped a shining brow with a large colorful silk handkerchief. "It throws me into a sweat," he admitted. "Really, Mr. Feldt, you mustn't bother," she told him in one of her few impulses of friendliness. "You see, we are very experienced." He nodded without visible happiness at this truth. "I'm a jackass!" he cried. "Judith tells me that all the time. If you could only see my daughters," he continued with a new vigor; "such lovely girls as they are. One dark like you and the other fair as a daisy. Judith and Pansy. And my home that darling mama made before she died." The handkerchief was again in evidence. "Women and girls are funny. I can't get you there and not for nothing will Judith make a step. It may be pride but it seems to me such nonsense. I guess I'm old-fashioned and love's old-fashioned. Homes have gone out of style with the rest. It's all these restaurants and roofs now, yes, and studios. I tell the girls to stay away from them and from artists and so on. I don't encourage them at the apartment--a big lump of a feller with platinum bracelets on his wrists. What kind of a man would that be! I'd like to know who'd buy goods from him. "Sometimes, I'm sorry I got a lot of money, but it made mama happy. When she laid there at the last sick and couldn't live, I said, 'Oh, if you only won't leave me I'll give you gold to eat.'" He was so moved, his face so red, that Linda grew acutely embarrassed. People were looking at them. She rose stiffly but, in spite of her effort to escape him, he caught both her hands in his: "You say I'm an old idiot like Judith," he begged. This Linda declined to do. And, "Ask your mother if you won't come to dinner with the girls and me, cozy and at home--just once." "I'm afraid it will do no good," she admitted; "but I'll try." She realized that he was about to kiss her and moved quickly back. "I am almost afraid of you," he told her; "you're so distant and elegant. Judith and Pansy would get on with you first rate. I'll telephone tomorrow, in the afternoon. If the last flowers I sent you came I never heard of it." She thanked him appropriately for the roses and stood, erect and impersonal, as a man in the hotel livery helped him into a coat. Mr. Moses Feldt waved the still unlighted cigar at her and disappeared through the rotating door to the street. She gave a half-affected sigh of relief. Couldn't he see that her mother would never marry him. At the same time the strange thrill touched her; the sense of his absurdity vanished and she no longer remembered him perched like a painted rubber ball on the edge of the lounge. In the somber red plush and varnished wood of the reception-room of their suite he seemed again charming. Perhaps it was because he, too, adored her mother. That wasn't the reason. The familiar rare joy lingered. It seemed now as though she were to capture and understand it ... there was the vibration of music; and then, as always, she felt at once sad and brave. But, in spite of her old effort to the contrary, the feeling died away. Some day it would be clear to her; in the meanwhile Mr. Moses Feldt became once more only ridiculous. VIII In the morning she was dressed and had returned from breakfast before her mother stirred. The latter moved sharply, brought an arm up over her head, and swore. It was a long while before she got up or spoke again, and Linda never remembered her in a worse temper. When, finally, she came into the room where the breakfast-tray was laid, Linda was inexpressibly shocked--all that her mother had dreaded about her appearance had come disastrously true. Her face was hung with shadows like smudges of dirt and her eyes were netted with lines. Examining the dishes with distaste she told Linda that positively she could slap her for letting them bring up orange-juice. "How often must I explain to you that it freezes my fingers." Linda replied that she had repeated this in the breakfast-room and perhaps they had the wrong order. Neither her mother nor she said anything more until Mrs. Condon had finished her coffee and started a second cigarette. Then Linda related something of Mr. Moses Feldt's call on the evening before. "He cried right into his handkerchief," she said, "until I thought I should sink." Mrs. Condon eyed her daughter speculatively. "Now if you were only four years older," she declared, "it would be a good thing. He was simply born to be a husband." Horror filled Linda at the other's implication. "Yes," the elder insisted; "you couldn't do better; except, perhaps, for those girls of his. But then you'd have no trouble making them miserable. It's time to talk to you seriously about marriage." The smoke from the cigarette eddied in a gray veil across her unrefreshed face. "You're old for your age, Linda; your life has made you that; and, like I said last night, it is rather better than not. Well, for you marriage, and soon as possible, is the proper thing. Mind, I have never said a word against it; only what suits one doesn't suit another. Where it wouldn't be anything more than an old ladies' home to me you need it early and plenty. You are too intense. That doesn't go in the world. Men don't like it. They want their pleasure and comfort without strings tied to them; the intensity has to be theirs. "What you must get through your head is that love--whatever it is--and marriage are two different things, and if you are going to be successful they must be kept separate. You can't do anything with a man if you love him; but then you can't do anything with him if he doesn't love you. That's the whole thing in a breath. I am not crying down love, either; only I don't want you to think it is the bread and butter while it's nothing more than those little sweet cakes at Henri's. "Now any girl who marries a poor man or for love--they are the same thing--is a fool and deserves what she gets. No one thanks her for it, him least of all; because if she does love him it is only to make them miserable. She's always at him--where did he go and why did he stay so long, and no matter what he says she knows it's a lie. More times than not she's right, too. I can't tell you too often--men don't want to be loved, they like to be flattered and flattered and then flattered again. You'd never believe how childish they are. "Make them think they're it and don't give too much--that's the secret. Above all else don't be easy on them. Don't say 'all right, darling, next spring will do as well for a new suit.' Get it then and let him worry about paying for it, if worry he must. If they don't give it to you some one smarter will wear it. But I started to talk about getting married. "Choose a Moses Feldt, who will always be grateful to you, and keep him at it. They are so easy to land it's a kind of shame, too. Perhaps I am telling you this too soon, but I don't want any mistakes. Well, pick out your Moses--and mama will help you there--and suddenly, at the right time, show him that you can be affectionate; surprise him with it and you so staid and particular generally. Don't overdo it, promise more than you ever give-- "In the closet, dearie, just a little. That's a good girl. Mama's so dry." She rose, the silver cup of the flask in her hand, and moved inevitably to the mirror. "My hair's a sight," she remarked; "all strings. I believe I'll get a permanent wave. They say it lasts for six months or more, till the ends grow out. Makes a lot of it, too, and holds the front together. If you've ever had dye in your hair, I hear, it will break off like grass." Linda pondered over what she had been told of love and marriage; on the whole the exposition had been unsatisfactory. The latter she was able to grasp, but her mother had admitted an inability exactly to fix love. One fact, apparently, was clear--it was a nuisance and a hindrance to happiness, or rather to success. Love upset things. Still she had the strongest objection possible to living forever with a man like Mr. Moses Feldt. At once all that she had hoped for from life grew flat and uninteresting. She had no doubt of her mother's correctness and wisdom; the world was like that; she must make the best of it. There was some telephoning, inquiries, and she heard the elder make an appointment with a hair-dresser for three that afternoon. She wondered what it would be like to have your hair permanently waved and hoped that she would see it done. This, too, she realized, was a part of the necessity of always considering men--they liked your hair to be wavy. Hers was as straight and stupid as possible. She, in turn, examined herself in a mirror: the black bang fell exactly to her eyebrows, her face had no color other than the carnation of her lips and her deep blue eyes. She moved away and critically studied her figure; inches and inches too thin, she decided. Undoubtedly her mother was right, and she must marry at the first opportunity--if she could find a man, a rich man, who was willing. Her thoughts returned vaguely to the mystery, the nuisance, of love. Surely she had heard something before, immensely important, about it, and totally different from all her mother had said. Her mind was filled with the fantastic image of a forest, of dangers, and a fat china figure with curled plumes, a nodding head, that brushed her with fear and disgust. A shuddering panic took possession of her, flashes burned before her eyes, and she ran gasping to the perfumed soft reassurances of her mother. IX In a recurrence of her surprising concern of the day before Mrs. Condon declined to leave her dearest Linda alone; and, their arms caught together in a surging affection, they walked down Fifth Avenue toward the hairdresser's. There was a diffused gray sparkle of sunlight--it was early for the throngs--through which they passed rapidly to the accompaniment of a rapid eager chatter. Linda wore a deep smooth camel's hair cape, over which her intense black hair poured like ink, and her face was shaded by a dipping green velvet hat. Her mother, in one of the tightly cut suits she affected, had never been more like a perfect companion. They saw, in the window of a store for men, a set of violent purple wool underwear, and barely escaped hysterics at the thought of Mr. Moses Feldt in such a garb. They giggled idiotically at the spectacle of a countryman fearfully making the sharp descent from the top of a lurching omnibus. And then, when they had reached the place of Mrs. Condon's appointment, stopped at the show of elaborately waved hair on wax heads and chose which, probably, would resemble the elder and which, in a very short while now, Linda. There was an impressive interior, furnished in gray panels and silvery wood; and the young woman at the desk was more surprisingly waved than anything they had yet seen. M. Joseph would be ready almost immediately; and in the meanwhile Mrs. Condon could lay aside her things in preparation for the hair to be washed. She did this while Linda followed every movement with the deepest interest. At the back of the long room was a succession of small alcoves, each with an important-looking chair and mirror and shelves, a white basin, water-taps and rubber tubes. Settled, in comfort, Mrs. Condon's hair was spread out in a bright metal tray fastened to the back of the chair, and the attendant, a moist tired girl in a careless waist, sprayed the short thick gold-colored strands. "My," she observed, "what some wouldn't give for your shade! Never been touched, I can see, either. A lady comes in with real Titian, but yours is more select. It positively is Lillian Russell." While she talked her hands sped with incredible rapidity and skill. "The gentlemen don't notice it; of course not; oh, no! There was a girl here, a true blonde, but she didn't stay long--her own car, yes, indeed. Married her right out of the establishment. There wasn't any nonsense to her. "So this is your little girl! I'd never have believed it. Not that she hasn't a great deal of style, a great deal--almost, you might say, like an Egyptian. In the movies last night; her all over. It's a type that will need studying. Bertha Kalich. But for me--" Already, Linda saw, this part of the operation was done. The girl wheeled into position a case that had a fan and ring of blue flickering flames, and a cupped tube through which hot air was poured over her mother's head. M. Joseph strutted in, a small carefully dressed man with a diminutive pointed gray beard and formal curled mustache. He spoke with what Linda supposed was a French accent, and his manners, at least to them, were beautiful. But because the girl had not put out the blue flames quickly enough he turned to her with a voice of quivering rage. It was so unexpected, in the middle of his bowing and smooth assurances, that Linda was startled, and had to think about him all over. The result of this was a surprising dislike; she hated, even, to see him touch her mother, as he unnecessarily did in directing them into the enclosure for the permanent wave. The place itself filled her with the faint horror of instruments and the unknown. Above the chair where Mrs. Condon now sat there was a circle in the ceiling like the base of a chandelier and hanging down from it on twisted green wires were a great number of the strangest things imaginable: they were as thick as her wrist, but round, longer and hollow, white china inside and covered with brown wrapping. The wires of each, she discovered, led over a little wheel and down again to a swinging clock-like weight. In addition to this there were strange depressing handles on the wall by a dial with a jiggling needle and clearly marked numbers. The skill of the girl who had washed her mother's hair, however, was slight compared with M. Joseph's dexterity. The comb flashed in his white narrow hands; in no time at all every knot was urged out into a shining smoothness. "Just the front?" he inquired. Not waiting for Mrs. Condon's reply, he detached a strand from the mass over her brow, impaled it on a hairpin, while he picked up what might have been a thick steel knitting-needle with one end fastened in the middle of a silver quarter. The latter, it developed, had a hole in it, through which he drew the strand of hair, and then wrapped it with an angry tightness about the long projection. At this exact moment a new girl, but tired and moist, appeared, took a hank of white threads from a dressing-table, and tied that separate lock firmly. This, Linda counted, was repeated fifteen times; and when it was accomplished she was unable to repress a nervous laughter. Really, her mother looked too queer for words: the long rigid projections stood out all over her head like--like a huge pincushion; no, it was a porcupine. Mrs. Condon smiled in uncertain recognition of her daughter's mirth. Then Linda's attention followed M. Joseph to a table against a partition, where he secured a white cotton strip from a film of them soaking in a shallow tray, took up some white powder on the blade of a dessert knife and transferred it to the strip. This he wrapped and wrapped about the hair fastened on a spindle, tied it in turn, and dragged down one of the brown objects on wires, which, to Linda's great astonishment, fitted precisely over the cotton-bound hair. Again, fifteen times, M. Joseph did this, fastening each connection with the turn of a screw. When so much was accomplished her mother's hair, it seemed, had grown fast to the ceiling in a tangle of green ends. It was the most terrifying spectacle Linda had ever witnessed. Obscure thoughts of torture, of criminals executed by electricity, froze her in a set apprehension. The hair-dresser stepped over to the dials on the wall, and, with a sharp comprehensive glance at his apparatus, moved a handle as far as it would go. Nothing immediately happened, and Linda gave a relaxing sigh of relief. M. Joseph, however, became full of a painful attention. X He brought into view an unsuspected tube, with a cone of paper at its end, and bent over her mother, directing a stream of cold air against her head. "How do you feel?" he asked, with, Linda noticed, a startling loss of his first accent. Mrs. Condon so far felt well enough. Then, before Linda's startled gaze, every single one of the fifteen imprisoning tubes began to steam with an extraordinary vigor; not only did they steam, like teapots, but drops of water formed and slowly slid over her mother's face. If the process appeared weird at the beginning, now it was utterly fantastic. The little white vapor spurts played about Mrs. Condon's dripping countenance; they increased rather than diminished; actually it resembled a wrecked locomotive she had once seen. "How are you?" M. Joseph demanded nervously. "Is it hot anywhere?" With a sudden gesture she replied in a shaking voice, "Here." Instantly he was holding the paper cone with its cold air against her scalp, and the heat was subdued. He glanced nervously at his watch, and Mrs. Condon managed to ask, "How long?" "Twenty minutes." Dangerous as the whole proceeding seemed nothing really happened, and Linda's fears gradually faded into a mere curiosity and interest. A curtain hung across the door to the rest of the establishment, but it had been brushed partly aside; and she could see, in the compartment they had vacated, another man bending with waving irons over the liberated mass of a woman's hair. He was very much like M. Joseph, but he was younger and had only a dark scrap of mustache. As he caught up the hair with a quick double twist he leaned very close to the woman's face, whispering with an expression that never changed, an expression like that of the wax heads in the show-case. He bent so low that Linda was certain their cheeks had touched. She pondered at length over this, gazing now at the man beyond and now at M. Joseph flitting with the cold-air tube about her mother; wondering if, when she grew older, she would like a hair-dresser's cheek against hers. Linda decided not. The idea didn't shock her, the woman in the other space plainly liked it; still she decided she wouldn't. A different kind of man, she told herself, would be nicer. Her thoughts were interrupted by a sharp, unpleasant odor--the odor of scorched hair; and she was absolutely rigid with horror at an agonized cry from her mother. "It's burning me terribly," the latter cried. "Oh, I can't stand it. Stop! Stop!" M. Joseph, as white as plaster, rushed to the wall and reversed the handle, and Mrs. Condon started from the chair, her face now streaming with actual tears; but before she could escape the man threw himself on her shoulders. "You mustn't move," he whispered desperately, "you'll tear your hair out. I tell you no harm's been done. Everything is all right. Please, please don't cry like that. It will ruin my business. There are others in the establishment. Stop!" he shook her viciously. Linda had risen, terrorized; and Mrs. Condon, with waving plucking hands, was sobbing an appeal to be released. "My head, my head," she repeated. "I assure you"--the man motioned to a pallid girl to hold her in the chair. With a towel to protect his hand he undid a screw, lifted off the cap and untwisted the cotton from a bound lock of hair; releasing it, in turn, from the spindle it fell forward in a complete corkscrew over Mrs. Condon's face. "Do you see!" he demanded. "Perfect. I give you my word they'll all be like that. The cursed heat ran up on me," he added in a swift aside to his assistant. "Has Mrs. Bellows gone? Who's still in the place? Here, loose that binding ... thank God, that one is all right, too." Together they unfastened most of the connections, and a growing fringe of long remarkable curls marked Mrs. Condon's pain-drawn and dabbled face. Linda sobbed uncontrollably; but perhaps, after all, nothing frightful had happened. Her poor mother! Then fear again tightened about her heart at the perturbed expression that overtook the hair-dresser. He was trying in vain to remove one of the caps. She caught enigmatic words--"the borax, crystallized ... solid. It would take a plumber ... have to go." The connection was immovable. Even in her suffering Mrs. Condon implored M. Joseph to save her hair. Nothing, however, could be done; he admitted it with pale lips. The thing might be chiseled off; in the end he tried to force a release and the strand, with a renewal of Mrs. Condon's agony--now, in the interest of her appearance, heroically withstood--snapped short in the container. Rapidly recovering her vigor, she launched on a tirade against M. Joseph and his permanent waving establishment--Linda had never before heard her mother talk in such a loud brutal manner, nor use such heated unpleasant words, and the girl was flooded with a wretched shame. Still another lock, it was revealed, had been ruined, and crumbled to mere dust in its owner's fingers. "The law will provide for you," she promised. "Your hair was dyed," the proprietor returned vindictively. "The girl who washed it will testify. Every one is warned against the permanent if their hair has been colored. So it was at your own risk." "My head's never been touched with dye," Mrs. Condon shrilly answered. "You lying little ape. And well does that young woman know it. She complimented me herself on a true blonde." The girl had, too, right before Linda. "You ought to be thrashed out of the city." "Your money will be given back to you," M. Joseph told her. Outside they found a taxi, and sped back to their hotel. Above, Mrs. Condon removed her hat; and, before the uncompromising mirror, studied her wrecked hair--a frizzled vacancy was directly over her left brow--and haggard face. When she finally turned to Linda, her manner, her words, were solemn. "I'm middle-aged," she said. A dreary silence enveloped them sitting in the dark reception-room while Mrs. Condon restlessly shredded unlighted cigarettes on the floor. She had made no effort to repair the damages to her appearance, and when the telephone bell sharply sounded, she reached out in a slovenly negligence of manner. Linda could hear a blurred articulation and her mother answering listlessly. The latter at last said: "Very well, at seven then; you'll stop for us." She hung up the receiver, stared blankly at Linda, and then went off into a harsh mirth. "Oh, my God!" she cried; "the old ladies' home!" XI With her mother away on a wedding-trip with Mr. Moses Feldt, Linda was suddenly projected into the companionship of his two daughters. One, as he had said, was light, but a different fairness from Mrs. Condon's--richly thick, like honey; while Judith, the elder, who must have been twenty, was dark in skin, in everything but her eyes, which were a contrasting ashen-violet. She spoke at once of Linda's flawless whiteness: "A magnolia," she said, in a deliberate dark voice; "you are quite a gorgeous child. Do you mind my saying that your clothes are rather quaint? They aren't inevitable, and yours ought to be that." They were at lunch in the Feldt dining-room, an interior of heavy ornately carved black wood, panels of Chinese embroidery in imperial yellow, and a neutral mauve carpet. The effect, with glittering iridescent pyramids of glass, massive frosted repouss silver, burnished gold-plate and a wide table decoration of orchids and fern, was tropical and intense. It was evident to Linda that the Feldts were very rich indeed. The entire apartment resembled the dining-room, while the building itself filled a whole city block, with a garden and fountains like an elaborate public square. Linda, however, wasn't particularly impressed by such show; she saw that Judith and Pansy had expected that of her; but she was determined not to exhibit a surprise that would imply any changes in her mother's and her condition. In addition, Linda calmly took such surroundings for granted. Her primary conception of possible existence was elegance; its necessity had so entered into her being that it

sense

How many times the word 'sense' appears in the text?

you with that chauffeur we have had so much. I positively forbid your leaving the hotel else. It's a comfort after all, that you are serious. Kiss mama--" However, she descended with her mother in the elevator; there was a more public caress; and the captain in the Chinese dining-room placed Linda at a small table against the wall. There she had clams--she adored iced clams--creamed shrimps and oysters with potatoes _bordure_, alligator-pear salad and a beautiful charlotte cream with black walnuts. After this she sedately instructed the captain what to sign on the back of the dinner check--Linda Condon, room five hundred and seven--placed thirty-five cents beside the finger-bowl for the waiter, and made her way out to the news stand and the talkative girl who had it in charge. Exhausting the possibilities of gossip, and deciding not to go out to the theatre--in spite of the news girl's exciting description of a play called "The New Sin"--she was walking irresolutely through the high gilded and marble assemblage space when, unfortunately, she was captured by Mr. Moses Feldt. VII He led her to a high-backed lounge against the wall, where, seated on its extreme edge, he gazed silently at her with an expression of sentimental concern. Mr. Moses Feldt was a short round man, bald but for a fluffy rim of pale hair, and with the palest imaginable eyes in a countenance perpetually flushed by the physical necessity of accommodating his rotundity to awkward edges and conditions. As usual he was dressed with the nicest care--a band of white linen laid in the opening of his waistcoat, his scarf ornamented by a pear-shaped pearl on a diamond finished stem; his cloth-topped varnished black shoes glistened, while his short fat fingers clasped a prodigious unlighted cigar. At last, in a tone exactly suited to his gaze, he exclaimed: "So that naughty mama has gone out again and deserted Moses and her little Linda!" In what way her mother had deserted Mr. Feldt she failed to understand. Of course he wanted to marry them--the comprehensive phrase was his own--but that didn't include him in whatever they did. Principally it made a joke for their private entertainment. Mrs. Condon would mimic his eager manner, "Stella, let me take you both home where you'll have the best in the land," And, "Ladies like you ought to have a loving protection." Linda would laugh in her cool bell-like manner, and her mother add a satirical comment on the chance any Moses Feldt had of marrying her. Linda at once found him ridiculous and a being who forced a slighting warmth of liking. His appearance was preposterous, the ready emotion often too foolish for words; but underneath there was a--a goodness, a mysterious quality that stirred her heart to recognition. Certain rare things in life and experience affected her like that memory of an old happiness. She could never say what they might be, they came at the oddest times and by the most extraordinary means; but at their occurrence she would thrill for a moment as if in response to a sound of music. It was, for example, absurd that Mr. Moses Feldt, who was a Jew, should make her feel like that, but he did. And all the while that she was disagreeable to him, or mocking him behind his back, she was as uncomfortable and "horrid" as possible. While this fact, of course, only served to make her horrider still. At present she adopted the manner of a patience that nothing could quite exhaust; she was polite and formal, relentlessly correct in position. Mr. Moses Feldt, the cigar in his grasp, pressed a hand to the probable region of his heart. "You don't know how I think of you," he protested, tears in his eyes; "just the idea of you exposed to anything at all in hotels keeps me awake nights. Now it's a drunk, or a fresh feller on the elevator, or--" "It's nice of you," Linda said, "but you needn't worry. No one would dare to bother us. No one ever has." "You wouldn't know it if they did," he replied despondently, "at your age. And then your mother is so trustful and pleasant. Take those parties where she is so much--roof frolics and cocoanut groves and submarine caf s; they don't come to any good. Rowdy." Linda studied him coldly; if he criticized them further she would leave. He mopped a shining brow with a large colorful silk handkerchief. "It throws me into a sweat," he admitted. "Really, Mr. Feldt, you mustn't bother," she told him in one of her few impulses of friendliness. "You see, we are very experienced." He nodded without visible happiness at this truth. "I'm a jackass!" he cried. "Judith tells me that all the time. If you could only see my daughters," he continued with a new vigor; "such lovely girls as they are. One dark like you and the other fair as a daisy. Judith and Pansy. And my home that darling mama made before she died." The handkerchief was again in evidence. "Women and girls are funny. I can't get you there and not for nothing will Judith make a step. It may be pride but it seems to me such nonsense. I guess I'm old-fashioned and love's old-fashioned. Homes have gone out of style with the rest. It's all these restaurants and roofs now, yes, and studios. I tell the girls to stay away from them and from artists and so on. I don't encourage them at the apartment--a big lump of a feller with platinum bracelets on his wrists. What kind of a man would that be! I'd like to know who'd buy goods from him. "Sometimes, I'm sorry I got a lot of money, but it made mama happy. When she laid there at the last sick and couldn't live, I said, 'Oh, if you only won't leave me I'll give you gold to eat.'" He was so moved, his face so red, that Linda grew acutely embarrassed. People were looking at them. She rose stiffly but, in spite of her effort to escape him, he caught both her hands in his: "You say I'm an old idiot like Judith," he begged. This Linda declined to do. And, "Ask your mother if you won't come to dinner with the girls and me, cozy and at home--just once." "I'm afraid it will do no good," she admitted; "but I'll try." She realized that he was about to kiss her and moved quickly back. "I am almost afraid of you," he told her; "you're so distant and elegant. Judith and Pansy would get on with you first rate. I'll telephone tomorrow, in the afternoon. If the last flowers I sent you came I never heard of it." She thanked him appropriately for the roses and stood, erect and impersonal, as a man in the hotel livery helped him into a coat. Mr. Moses Feldt waved the still unlighted cigar at her and disappeared through the rotating door to the street. She gave a half-affected sigh of relief. Couldn't he see that her mother would never marry him. At the same time the strange thrill touched her; the sense of his absurdity vanished and she no longer remembered him perched like a painted rubber ball on the edge of the lounge. In the somber red plush and varnished wood of the reception-room of their suite he seemed again charming. Perhaps it was because he, too, adored her mother. That wasn't the reason. The familiar rare joy lingered. It seemed now as though she were to capture and understand it ... there was the vibration of music; and then, as always, she felt at once sad and brave. But, in spite of her old effort to the contrary, the feeling died away. Some day it would be clear to her; in the meanwhile Mr. Moses Feldt became once more only ridiculous. VIII In the morning she was dressed and had returned from breakfast before her mother stirred. The latter moved sharply, brought an arm up over her head, and swore. It was a long while before she got up or spoke again, and Linda never remembered her in a worse temper. When, finally, she came into the room where the breakfast-tray was laid, Linda was inexpressibly shocked--all that her mother had dreaded about her appearance had come disastrously true. Her face was hung with shadows like smudges of dirt and her eyes were netted with lines. Examining the dishes with distaste she told Linda that positively she could slap her for letting them bring up orange-juice. "How often must I explain to you that it freezes my fingers." Linda replied that she had repeated this in the breakfast-room and perhaps they had the wrong order. Neither her mother nor she said anything more until Mrs. Condon had finished her coffee and started a second cigarette. Then Linda related something of Mr. Moses Feldt's call on the evening before. "He cried right into his handkerchief," she said, "until I thought I should sink." Mrs. Condon eyed her daughter speculatively. "Now if you were only four years older," she declared, "it would be a good thing. He was simply born to be a husband." Horror filled Linda at the other's implication. "Yes," the elder insisted; "you couldn't do better; except, perhaps, for those girls of his. But then you'd have no trouble making them miserable. It's time to talk to you seriously about marriage." The smoke from the cigarette eddied in a gray veil across her unrefreshed face. "You're old for your age, Linda; your life has made you that; and, like I said last night, it is rather better than not. Well, for you marriage, and soon as possible, is the proper thing. Mind, I have never said a word against it; only what suits one doesn't suit another. Where it wouldn't be anything more than an old ladies' home to me you need it early and plenty. You are too intense. That doesn't go in the world. Men don't like it. They want their pleasure and comfort without strings tied to them; the intensity has to be theirs. "What you must get through your head is that love--whatever it is--and marriage are two different things, and if you are going to be successful they must be kept separate. You can't do anything with a man if you love him; but then you can't do anything with him if he doesn't love you. That's the whole thing in a breath. I am not crying down love, either; only I don't want you to think it is the bread and butter while it's nothing more than those little sweet cakes at Henri's. "Now any girl who marries a poor man or for love--they are the same thing--is a fool and deserves what she gets. No one thanks her for it, him least of all; because if she does love him it is only to make them miserable. She's always at him--where did he go and why did he stay so long, and no matter what he says she knows it's a lie. More times than not she's right, too. I can't tell you too often--men don't want to be loved, they like to be flattered and flattered and then flattered again. You'd never believe how childish they are. "Make them think they're it and don't give too much--that's the secret. Above all else don't be easy on them. Don't say 'all right, darling, next spring will do as well for a new suit.' Get it then and let him worry about paying for it, if worry he must. If they don't give it to you some one smarter will wear it. But I started to talk about getting married. "Choose a Moses Feldt, who will always be grateful to you, and keep him at it. They are so easy to land it's a kind of shame, too. Perhaps I am telling you this too soon, but I don't want any mistakes. Well, pick out your Moses--and mama will help you there--and suddenly, at the right time, show him that you can be affectionate; surprise him with it and you so staid and particular generally. Don't overdo it, promise more than you ever give-- "In the closet, dearie, just a little. That's a good girl. Mama's so dry." She rose, the silver cup of the flask in her hand, and moved inevitably to the mirror. "My hair's a sight," she remarked; "all strings. I believe I'll get a permanent wave. They say it lasts for six months or more, till the ends grow out. Makes a lot of it, too, and holds the front together. If you've ever had dye in your hair, I hear, it will break off like grass." Linda pondered over what she had been told of love and marriage; on the whole the exposition had been unsatisfactory. The latter she was able to grasp, but her mother had admitted an inability exactly to fix love. One fact, apparently, was clear--it was a nuisance and a hindrance to happiness, or rather to success. Love upset things. Still she had the strongest objection possible to living forever with a man like Mr. Moses Feldt. At once all that she had hoped for from life grew flat and uninteresting. She had no doubt of her mother's correctness and wisdom; the world was like that; she must make the best of it. There was some telephoning, inquiries, and she heard the elder make an appointment with a hair-dresser for three that afternoon. She wondered what it would be like to have your hair permanently waved and hoped that she would see it done. This, too, she realized, was a part of the necessity of always considering men--they liked your hair to be wavy. Hers was as straight and stupid as possible. She, in turn, examined herself in a mirror: the black bang fell exactly to her eyebrows, her face had no color other than the carnation of her lips and her deep blue eyes. She moved away and critically studied her figure; inches and inches too thin, she decided. Undoubtedly her mother was right, and she must marry at the first opportunity--if she could find a man, a rich man, who was willing. Her thoughts returned vaguely to the mystery, the nuisance, of love. Surely she had heard something before, immensely important, about it, and totally different from all her mother had said. Her mind was filled with the fantastic image of a forest, of dangers, and a fat china figure with curled plumes, a nodding head, that brushed her with fear and disgust. A shuddering panic took possession of her, flashes burned before her eyes, and she ran gasping to the perfumed soft reassurances of her mother. IX In a recurrence of her surprising concern of the day before Mrs. Condon declined to leave her dearest Linda alone; and, their arms caught together in a surging affection, they walked down Fifth Avenue toward the hairdresser's. There was a diffused gray sparkle of sunlight--it was early for the throngs--through which they passed rapidly to the accompaniment of a rapid eager chatter. Linda wore a deep smooth camel's hair cape, over which her intense black hair poured like ink, and her face was shaded by a dipping green velvet hat. Her mother, in one of the tightly cut suits she affected, had never been more like a perfect companion. They saw, in the window of a store for men, a set of violent purple wool underwear, and barely escaped hysterics at the thought of Mr. Moses Feldt in such a garb. They giggled idiotically at the spectacle of a countryman fearfully making the sharp descent from the top of a lurching omnibus. And then, when they had reached the place of Mrs. Condon's appointment, stopped at the show of elaborately waved hair on wax heads and chose which, probably, would resemble the elder and which, in a very short while now, Linda. There was an impressive interior, furnished in gray panels and silvery wood; and the young woman at the desk was more surprisingly waved than anything they had yet seen. M. Joseph would be ready almost immediately; and in the meanwhile Mrs. Condon could lay aside her things in preparation for the hair to be washed. She did this while Linda followed every movement with the deepest interest. At the back of the long room was a succession of small alcoves, each with an important-looking chair and mirror and shelves, a white basin, water-taps and rubber tubes. Settled, in comfort, Mrs. Condon's hair was spread out in a bright metal tray fastened to the back of the chair, and the attendant, a moist tired girl in a careless waist, sprayed the short thick gold-colored strands. "My," she observed, "what some wouldn't give for your shade! Never been touched, I can see, either. A lady comes in with real Titian, but yours is more select. It positively is Lillian Russell." While she talked her hands sped with incredible rapidity and skill. "The gentlemen don't notice it; of course not; oh, no! There was a girl here, a true blonde, but she didn't stay long--her own car, yes, indeed. Married her right out of the establishment. There wasn't any nonsense to her. "So this is your little girl! I'd never have believed it. Not that she hasn't a great deal of style, a great deal--almost, you might say, like an Egyptian. In the movies last night; her all over. It's a type that will need studying. Bertha Kalich. But for me--" Already, Linda saw, this part of the operation was done. The girl wheeled into position a case that had a fan and ring of blue flickering flames, and a cupped tube through which hot air was poured over her mother's head. M. Joseph strutted in, a small carefully dressed man with a diminutive pointed gray beard and formal curled mustache. He spoke with what Linda supposed was a French accent, and his manners, at least to them, were beautiful. But because the girl had not put out the blue flames quickly enough he turned to her with a voice of quivering rage. It was so unexpected, in the middle of his bowing and smooth assurances, that Linda was startled, and had to think about him all over. The result of this was a surprising dislike; she hated, even, to see him touch her mother, as he unnecessarily did in directing them into the enclosure for the permanent wave. The place itself filled her with the faint horror of instruments and the unknown. Above the chair where Mrs. Condon now sat there was a circle in the ceiling like the base of a chandelier and hanging down from it on twisted green wires were a great number of the strangest things imaginable: they were as thick as her wrist, but round, longer and hollow, white china inside and covered with brown wrapping. The wires of each, she discovered, led over a little wheel and down again to a swinging clock-like weight. In addition to this there were strange depressing handles on the wall by a dial with a jiggling needle and clearly marked numbers. The skill of the girl who had washed her mother's hair, however, was slight compared with M. Joseph's dexterity. The comb flashed in his white narrow hands; in no time at all every knot was urged out into a shining smoothness. "Just the front?" he inquired. Not waiting for Mrs. Condon's reply, he detached a strand from the mass over her brow, impaled it on a hairpin, while he picked up what might have been a thick steel knitting-needle with one end fastened in the middle of a silver quarter. The latter, it developed, had a hole in it, through which he drew the strand of hair, and then wrapped it with an angry tightness about the long projection. At this exact moment a new girl, but tired and moist, appeared, took a hank of white threads from a dressing-table, and tied that separate lock firmly. This, Linda counted, was repeated fifteen times; and when it was accomplished she was unable to repress a nervous laughter. Really, her mother looked too queer for words: the long rigid projections stood out all over her head like--like a huge pincushion; no, it was a porcupine. Mrs. Condon smiled in uncertain recognition of her daughter's mirth. Then Linda's attention followed M. Joseph to a table against a partition, where he secured a white cotton strip from a film of them soaking in a shallow tray, took up some white powder on the blade of a dessert knife and transferred it to the strip. This he wrapped and wrapped about the hair fastened on a spindle, tied it in turn, and dragged down one of the brown objects on wires, which, to Linda's great astonishment, fitted precisely over the cotton-bound hair. Again, fifteen times, M. Joseph did this, fastening each connection with the turn of a screw. When so much was accomplished her mother's hair, it seemed, had grown fast to the ceiling in a tangle of green ends. It was the most terrifying spectacle Linda had ever witnessed. Obscure thoughts of torture, of criminals executed by electricity, froze her in a set apprehension. The hair-dresser stepped over to the dials on the wall, and, with a sharp comprehensive glance at his apparatus, moved a handle as far as it would go. Nothing immediately happened, and Linda gave a relaxing sigh of relief. M. Joseph, however, became full of a painful attention. X He brought into view an unsuspected tube, with a cone of paper at its end, and bent over her mother, directing a stream of cold air against her head. "How do you feel?" he asked, with, Linda noticed, a startling loss of his first accent. Mrs. Condon so far felt well enough. Then, before Linda's startled gaze, every single one of the fifteen imprisoning tubes began to steam with an extraordinary vigor; not only did they steam, like teapots, but drops of water formed and slowly slid over her mother's face. If the process appeared weird at the beginning, now it was utterly fantastic. The little white vapor spurts played about Mrs. Condon's dripping countenance; they increased rather than diminished; actually it resembled a wrecked locomotive she had once seen. "How are you?" M. Joseph demanded nervously. "Is it hot anywhere?" With a sudden gesture she replied in a shaking voice, "Here." Instantly he was holding the paper cone with its cold air against her scalp, and the heat was subdued. He glanced nervously at his watch, and Mrs. Condon managed to ask, "How long?" "Twenty minutes." Dangerous as the whole proceeding seemed nothing really happened, and Linda's fears gradually faded into a mere curiosity and interest. A curtain hung across the door to the rest of the establishment, but it had been brushed partly aside; and she could see, in the compartment they had vacated, another man bending with waving irons over the liberated mass of a woman's hair. He was very much like M. Joseph, but he was younger and had only a dark scrap of mustache. As he caught up the hair with a quick double twist he leaned very close to the woman's face, whispering with an expression that never changed, an expression like that of the wax heads in the show-case. He bent so low that Linda was certain their cheeks had touched. She pondered at length over this, gazing now at the man beyond and now at M. Joseph flitting with the cold-air tube about her mother; wondering if, when she grew older, she would like a hair-dresser's cheek against hers. Linda decided not. The idea didn't shock her, the woman in the other space plainly liked it; still she decided she wouldn't. A different kind of man, she told herself, would be nicer. Her thoughts were interrupted by a sharp, unpleasant odor--the odor of scorched hair; and she was absolutely rigid with horror at an agonized cry from her mother. "It's burning me terribly," the latter cried. "Oh, I can't stand it. Stop! Stop!" M. Joseph, as white as plaster, rushed to the wall and reversed the handle, and Mrs. Condon started from the chair, her face now streaming with actual tears; but before she could escape the man threw himself on her shoulders. "You mustn't move," he whispered desperately, "you'll tear your hair out. I tell you no harm's been done. Everything is all right. Please, please don't cry like that. It will ruin my business. There are others in the establishment. Stop!" he shook her viciously. Linda had risen, terrorized; and Mrs. Condon, with waving plucking hands, was sobbing an appeal to be released. "My head, my head," she repeated. "I assure you"--the man motioned to a pallid girl to hold her in the chair. With a towel to protect his hand he undid a screw, lifted off the cap and untwisted the cotton from a bound lock of hair; releasing it, in turn, from the spindle it fell forward in a complete corkscrew over Mrs. Condon's face. "Do you see!" he demanded. "Perfect. I give you my word they'll all be like that. The cursed heat ran up on me," he added in a swift aside to his assistant. "Has Mrs. Bellows gone? Who's still in the place? Here, loose that binding ... thank God, that one is all right, too." Together they unfastened most of the connections, and a growing fringe of long remarkable curls marked Mrs. Condon's pain-drawn and dabbled face. Linda sobbed uncontrollably; but perhaps, after all, nothing frightful had happened. Her poor mother! Then fear again tightened about her heart at the perturbed expression that overtook the hair-dresser. He was trying in vain to remove one of the caps. She caught enigmatic words--"the borax, crystallized ... solid. It would take a plumber ... have to go." The connection was immovable. Even in her suffering Mrs. Condon implored M. Joseph to save her hair. Nothing, however, could be done; he admitted it with pale lips. The thing might be chiseled off; in the end he tried to force a release and the strand, with a renewal of Mrs. Condon's agony--now, in the interest of her appearance, heroically withstood--snapped short in the container. Rapidly recovering her vigor, she launched on a tirade against M. Joseph and his permanent waving establishment--Linda had never before heard her mother talk in such a loud brutal manner, nor use such heated unpleasant words, and the girl was flooded with a wretched shame. Still another lock, it was revealed, had been ruined, and crumbled to mere dust in its owner's fingers. "The law will provide for you," she promised. "Your hair was dyed," the proprietor returned vindictively. "The girl who washed it will testify. Every one is warned against the permanent if their hair has been colored. So it was at your own risk." "My head's never been touched with dye," Mrs. Condon shrilly answered. "You lying little ape. And well does that young woman know it. She complimented me herself on a true blonde." The girl had, too, right before Linda. "You ought to be thrashed out of the city." "Your money will be given back to you," M. Joseph told her. Outside they found a taxi, and sped back to their hotel. Above, Mrs. Condon removed her hat; and, before the uncompromising mirror, studied her wrecked hair--a frizzled vacancy was directly over her left brow--and haggard face. When she finally turned to Linda, her manner, her words, were solemn. "I'm middle-aged," she said. A dreary silence enveloped them sitting in the dark reception-room while Mrs. Condon restlessly shredded unlighted cigarettes on the floor. She had made no effort to repair the damages to her appearance, and when the telephone bell sharply sounded, she reached out in a slovenly negligence of manner. Linda could hear a blurred articulation and her mother answering listlessly. The latter at last said: "Very well, at seven then; you'll stop for us." She hung up the receiver, stared blankly at Linda, and then went off into a harsh mirth. "Oh, my God!" she cried; "the old ladies' home!" XI With her mother away on a wedding-trip with Mr. Moses Feldt, Linda was suddenly projected into the companionship of his two daughters. One, as he had said, was light, but a different fairness from Mrs. Condon's--richly thick, like honey; while Judith, the elder, who must have been twenty, was dark in skin, in everything but her eyes, which were a contrasting ashen-violet. She spoke at once of Linda's flawless whiteness: "A magnolia," she said, in a deliberate dark voice; "you are quite a gorgeous child. Do you mind my saying that your clothes are rather quaint? They aren't inevitable, and yours ought to be that." They were at lunch in the Feldt dining-room, an interior of heavy ornately carved black wood, panels of Chinese embroidery in imperial yellow, and a neutral mauve carpet. The effect, with glittering iridescent pyramids of glass, massive frosted repouss silver, burnished gold-plate and a wide table decoration of orchids and fern, was tropical and intense. It was evident to Linda that the Feldts were very rich indeed. The entire apartment resembled the dining-room, while the building itself filled a whole city block, with a garden and fountains like an elaborate public square. Linda, however, wasn't particularly impressed by such show; she saw that Judith and Pansy had expected that of her; but she was determined not to exhibit a surprise that would imply any changes in her mother's and her condition. In addition, Linda calmly took such surroundings for granted. Her primary conception of possible existence was elegance; its necessity had so entered into her being that it

proceedings

How many times the word 'proceedings' appears in the text?

you with that chauffeur we have had so much. I positively forbid your leaving the hotel else. It's a comfort after all, that you are serious. Kiss mama--" However, she descended with her mother in the elevator; there was a more public caress; and the captain in the Chinese dining-room placed Linda at a small table against the wall. There she had clams--she adored iced clams--creamed shrimps and oysters with potatoes _bordure_, alligator-pear salad and a beautiful charlotte cream with black walnuts. After this she sedately instructed the captain what to sign on the back of the dinner check--Linda Condon, room five hundred and seven--placed thirty-five cents beside the finger-bowl for the waiter, and made her way out to the news stand and the talkative girl who had it in charge. Exhausting the possibilities of gossip, and deciding not to go out to the theatre--in spite of the news girl's exciting description of a play called "The New Sin"--she was walking irresolutely through the high gilded and marble assemblage space when, unfortunately, she was captured by Mr. Moses Feldt. VII He led her to a high-backed lounge against the wall, where, seated on its extreme edge, he gazed silently at her with an expression of sentimental concern. Mr. Moses Feldt was a short round man, bald but for a fluffy rim of pale hair, and with the palest imaginable eyes in a countenance perpetually flushed by the physical necessity of accommodating his rotundity to awkward edges and conditions. As usual he was dressed with the nicest care--a band of white linen laid in the opening of his waistcoat, his scarf ornamented by a pear-shaped pearl on a diamond finished stem; his cloth-topped varnished black shoes glistened, while his short fat fingers clasped a prodigious unlighted cigar. At last, in a tone exactly suited to his gaze, he exclaimed: "So that naughty mama has gone out again and deserted Moses and her little Linda!" In what way her mother had deserted Mr. Feldt she failed to understand. Of course he wanted to marry them--the comprehensive phrase was his own--but that didn't include him in whatever they did. Principally it made a joke for their private entertainment. Mrs. Condon would mimic his eager manner, "Stella, let me take you both home where you'll have the best in the land," And, "Ladies like you ought to have a loving protection." Linda would laugh in her cool bell-like manner, and her mother add a satirical comment on the chance any Moses Feldt had of marrying her. Linda at once found him ridiculous and a being who forced a slighting warmth of liking. His appearance was preposterous, the ready emotion often too foolish for words; but underneath there was a--a goodness, a mysterious quality that stirred her heart to recognition. Certain rare things in life and experience affected her like that memory of an old happiness. She could never say what they might be, they came at the oddest times and by the most extraordinary means; but at their occurrence she would thrill for a moment as if in response to a sound of music. It was, for example, absurd that Mr. Moses Feldt, who was a Jew, should make her feel like that, but he did. And all the while that she was disagreeable to him, or mocking him behind his back, she was as uncomfortable and "horrid" as possible. While this fact, of course, only served to make her horrider still. At present she adopted the manner of a patience that nothing could quite exhaust; she was polite and formal, relentlessly correct in position. Mr. Moses Feldt, the cigar in his grasp, pressed a hand to the probable region of his heart. "You don't know how I think of you," he protested, tears in his eyes; "just the idea of you exposed to anything at all in hotels keeps me awake nights. Now it's a drunk, or a fresh feller on the elevator, or--" "It's nice of you," Linda said, "but you needn't worry. No one would dare to bother us. No one ever has." "You wouldn't know it if they did," he replied despondently, "at your age. And then your mother is so trustful and pleasant. Take those parties where she is so much--roof frolics and cocoanut groves and submarine caf s; they don't come to any good. Rowdy." Linda studied him coldly; if he criticized them further she would leave. He mopped a shining brow with a large colorful silk handkerchief. "It throws me into a sweat," he admitted. "Really, Mr. Feldt, you mustn't bother," she told him in one of her few impulses of friendliness. "You see, we are very experienced." He nodded without visible happiness at this truth. "I'm a jackass!" he cried. "Judith tells me that all the time. If you could only see my daughters," he continued with a new vigor; "such lovely girls as they are. One dark like you and the other fair as a daisy. Judith and Pansy. And my home that darling mama made before she died." The handkerchief was again in evidence. "Women and girls are funny. I can't get you there and not for nothing will Judith make a step. It may be pride but it seems to me such nonsense. I guess I'm old-fashioned and love's old-fashioned. Homes have gone out of style with the rest. It's all these restaurants and roofs now, yes, and studios. I tell the girls to stay away from them and from artists and so on. I don't encourage them at the apartment--a big lump of a feller with platinum bracelets on his wrists. What kind of a man would that be! I'd like to know who'd buy goods from him. "Sometimes, I'm sorry I got a lot of money, but it made mama happy. When she laid there at the last sick and couldn't live, I said, 'Oh, if you only won't leave me I'll give you gold to eat.'" He was so moved, his face so red, that Linda grew acutely embarrassed. People were looking at them. She rose stiffly but, in spite of her effort to escape him, he caught both her hands in his: "You say I'm an old idiot like Judith," he begged. This Linda declined to do. And, "Ask your mother if you won't come to dinner with the girls and me, cozy and at home--just once." "I'm afraid it will do no good," she admitted; "but I'll try." She realized that he was about to kiss her and moved quickly back. "I am almost afraid of you," he told her; "you're so distant and elegant. Judith and Pansy would get on with you first rate. I'll telephone tomorrow, in the afternoon. If the last flowers I sent you came I never heard of it." She thanked him appropriately for the roses and stood, erect and impersonal, as a man in the hotel livery helped him into a coat. Mr. Moses Feldt waved the still unlighted cigar at her and disappeared through the rotating door to the street. She gave a half-affected sigh of relief. Couldn't he see that her mother would never marry him. At the same time the strange thrill touched her; the sense of his absurdity vanished and she no longer remembered him perched like a painted rubber ball on the edge of the lounge. In the somber red plush and varnished wood of the reception-room of their suite he seemed again charming. Perhaps it was because he, too, adored her mother. That wasn't the reason. The familiar rare joy lingered. It seemed now as though she were to capture and understand it ... there was the vibration of music; and then, as always, she felt at once sad and brave. But, in spite of her old effort to the contrary, the feeling died away. Some day it would be clear to her; in the meanwhile Mr. Moses Feldt became once more only ridiculous. VIII In the morning she was dressed and had returned from breakfast before her mother stirred. The latter moved sharply, brought an arm up over her head, and swore. It was a long while before she got up or spoke again, and Linda never remembered her in a worse temper. When, finally, she came into the room where the breakfast-tray was laid, Linda was inexpressibly shocked--all that her mother had dreaded about her appearance had come disastrously true. Her face was hung with shadows like smudges of dirt and her eyes were netted with lines. Examining the dishes with distaste she told Linda that positively she could slap her for letting them bring up orange-juice. "How often must I explain to you that it freezes my fingers." Linda replied that she had repeated this in the breakfast-room and perhaps they had the wrong order. Neither her mother nor she said anything more until Mrs. Condon had finished her coffee and started a second cigarette. Then Linda related something of Mr. Moses Feldt's call on the evening before. "He cried right into his handkerchief," she said, "until I thought I should sink." Mrs. Condon eyed her daughter speculatively. "Now if you were only four years older," she declared, "it would be a good thing. He was simply born to be a husband." Horror filled Linda at the other's implication. "Yes," the elder insisted; "you couldn't do better; except, perhaps, for those girls of his. But then you'd have no trouble making them miserable. It's time to talk to you seriously about marriage." The smoke from the cigarette eddied in a gray veil across her unrefreshed face. "You're old for your age, Linda; your life has made you that; and, like I said last night, it is rather better than not. Well, for you marriage, and soon as possible, is the proper thing. Mind, I have never said a word against it; only what suits one doesn't suit another. Where it wouldn't be anything more than an old ladies' home to me you need it early and plenty. You are too intense. That doesn't go in the world. Men don't like it. They want their pleasure and comfort without strings tied to them; the intensity has to be theirs. "What you must get through your head is that love--whatever it is--and marriage are two different things, and if you are going to be successful they must be kept separate. You can't do anything with a man if you love him; but then you can't do anything with him if he doesn't love you. That's the whole thing in a breath. I am not crying down love, either; only I don't want you to think it is the bread and butter while it's nothing more than those little sweet cakes at Henri's. "Now any girl who marries a poor man or for love--they are the same thing--is a fool and deserves what she gets. No one thanks her for it, him least of all; because if she does love him it is only to make them miserable. She's always at him--where did he go and why did he stay so long, and no matter what he says she knows it's a lie. More times than not she's right, too. I can't tell you too often--men don't want to be loved, they like to be flattered and flattered and then flattered again. You'd never believe how childish they are. "Make them think they're it and don't give too much--that's the secret. Above all else don't be easy on them. Don't say 'all right, darling, next spring will do as well for a new suit.' Get it then and let him worry about paying for it, if worry he must. If they don't give it to you some one smarter will wear it. But I started to talk about getting married. "Choose a Moses Feldt, who will always be grateful to you, and keep him at it. They are so easy to land it's a kind of shame, too. Perhaps I am telling you this too soon, but I don't want any mistakes. Well, pick out your Moses--and mama will help you there--and suddenly, at the right time, show him that you can be affectionate; surprise him with it and you so staid and particular generally. Don't overdo it, promise more than you ever give-- "In the closet, dearie, just a little. That's a good girl. Mama's so dry." She rose, the silver cup of the flask in her hand, and moved inevitably to the mirror. "My hair's a sight," she remarked; "all strings. I believe I'll get a permanent wave. They say it lasts for six months or more, till the ends grow out. Makes a lot of it, too, and holds the front together. If you've ever had dye in your hair, I hear, it will break off like grass." Linda pondered over what she had been told of love and marriage; on the whole the exposition had been unsatisfactory. The latter she was able to grasp, but her mother had admitted an inability exactly to fix love. One fact, apparently, was clear--it was a nuisance and a hindrance to happiness, or rather to success. Love upset things. Still she had the strongest objection possible to living forever with a man like Mr. Moses Feldt. At once all that she had hoped for from life grew flat and uninteresting. She had no doubt of her mother's correctness and wisdom; the world was like that; she must make the best of it. There was some telephoning, inquiries, and she heard the elder make an appointment with a hair-dresser for three that afternoon. She wondered what it would be like to have your hair permanently waved and hoped that she would see it done. This, too, she realized, was a part of the necessity of always considering men--they liked your hair to be wavy. Hers was as straight and stupid as possible. She, in turn, examined herself in a mirror: the black bang fell exactly to her eyebrows, her face had no color other than the carnation of her lips and her deep blue eyes. She moved away and critically studied her figure; inches and inches too thin, she decided. Undoubtedly her mother was right, and she must marry at the first opportunity--if she could find a man, a rich man, who was willing. Her thoughts returned vaguely to the mystery, the nuisance, of love. Surely she had heard something before, immensely important, about it, and totally different from all her mother had said. Her mind was filled with the fantastic image of a forest, of dangers, and a fat china figure with curled plumes, a nodding head, that brushed her with fear and disgust. A shuddering panic took possession of her, flashes burned before her eyes, and she ran gasping to the perfumed soft reassurances of her mother. IX In a recurrence of her surprising concern of the day before Mrs. Condon declined to leave her dearest Linda alone; and, their arms caught together in a surging affection, they walked down Fifth Avenue toward the hairdresser's. There was a diffused gray sparkle of sunlight--it was early for the throngs--through which they passed rapidly to the accompaniment of a rapid eager chatter. Linda wore a deep smooth camel's hair cape, over which her intense black hair poured like ink, and her face was shaded by a dipping green velvet hat. Her mother, in one of the tightly cut suits she affected, had never been more like a perfect companion. They saw, in the window of a store for men, a set of violent purple wool underwear, and barely escaped hysterics at the thought of Mr. Moses Feldt in such a garb. They giggled idiotically at the spectacle of a countryman fearfully making the sharp descent from the top of a lurching omnibus. And then, when they had reached the place of Mrs. Condon's appointment, stopped at the show of elaborately waved hair on wax heads and chose which, probably, would resemble the elder and which, in a very short while now, Linda. There was an impressive interior, furnished in gray panels and silvery wood; and the young woman at the desk was more surprisingly waved than anything they had yet seen. M. Joseph would be ready almost immediately; and in the meanwhile Mrs. Condon could lay aside her things in preparation for the hair to be washed. She did this while Linda followed every movement with the deepest interest. At the back of the long room was a succession of small alcoves, each with an important-looking chair and mirror and shelves, a white basin, water-taps and rubber tubes. Settled, in comfort, Mrs. Condon's hair was spread out in a bright metal tray fastened to the back of the chair, and the attendant, a moist tired girl in a careless waist, sprayed the short thick gold-colored strands. "My," she observed, "what some wouldn't give for your shade! Never been touched, I can see, either. A lady comes in with real Titian, but yours is more select. It positively is Lillian Russell." While she talked her hands sped with incredible rapidity and skill. "The gentlemen don't notice it; of course not; oh, no! There was a girl here, a true blonde, but she didn't stay long--her own car, yes, indeed. Married her right out of the establishment. There wasn't any nonsense to her. "So this is your little girl! I'd never have believed it. Not that she hasn't a great deal of style, a great deal--almost, you might say, like an Egyptian. In the movies last night; her all over. It's a type that will need studying. Bertha Kalich. But for me--" Already, Linda saw, this part of the operation was done. The girl wheeled into position a case that had a fan and ring of blue flickering flames, and a cupped tube through which hot air was poured over her mother's head. M. Joseph strutted in, a small carefully dressed man with a diminutive pointed gray beard and formal curled mustache. He spoke with what Linda supposed was a French accent, and his manners, at least to them, were beautiful. But because the girl had not put out the blue flames quickly enough he turned to her with a voice of quivering rage. It was so unexpected, in the middle of his bowing and smooth assurances, that Linda was startled, and had to think about him all over. The result of this was a surprising dislike; she hated, even, to see him touch her mother, as he unnecessarily did in directing them into the enclosure for the permanent wave. The place itself filled her with the faint horror of instruments and the unknown. Above the chair where Mrs. Condon now sat there was a circle in the ceiling like the base of a chandelier and hanging down from it on twisted green wires were a great number of the strangest things imaginable: they were as thick as her wrist, but round, longer and hollow, white china inside and covered with brown wrapping. The wires of each, she discovered, led over a little wheel and down again to a swinging clock-like weight. In addition to this there were strange depressing handles on the wall by a dial with a jiggling needle and clearly marked numbers. The skill of the girl who had washed her mother's hair, however, was slight compared with M. Joseph's dexterity. The comb flashed in his white narrow hands; in no time at all every knot was urged out into a shining smoothness. "Just the front?" he inquired. Not waiting for Mrs. Condon's reply, he detached a strand from the mass over her brow, impaled it on a hairpin, while he picked up what might have been a thick steel knitting-needle with one end fastened in the middle of a silver quarter. The latter, it developed, had a hole in it, through which he drew the strand of hair, and then wrapped it with an angry tightness about the long projection. At this exact moment a new girl, but tired and moist, appeared, took a hank of white threads from a dressing-table, and tied that separate lock firmly. This, Linda counted, was repeated fifteen times; and when it was accomplished she was unable to repress a nervous laughter. Really, her mother looked too queer for words: the long rigid projections stood out all over her head like--like a huge pincushion; no, it was a porcupine. Mrs. Condon smiled in uncertain recognition of her daughter's mirth. Then Linda's attention followed M. Joseph to a table against a partition, where he secured a white cotton strip from a film of them soaking in a shallow tray, took up some white powder on the blade of a dessert knife and transferred it to the strip. This he wrapped and wrapped about the hair fastened on a spindle, tied it in turn, and dragged down one of the brown objects on wires, which, to Linda's great astonishment, fitted precisely over the cotton-bound hair. Again, fifteen times, M. Joseph did this, fastening each connection with the turn of a screw. When so much was accomplished her mother's hair, it seemed, had grown fast to the ceiling in a tangle of green ends. It was the most terrifying spectacle Linda had ever witnessed. Obscure thoughts of torture, of criminals executed by electricity, froze her in a set apprehension. The hair-dresser stepped over to the dials on the wall, and, with a sharp comprehensive glance at his apparatus, moved a handle as far as it would go. Nothing immediately happened, and Linda gave a relaxing sigh of relief. M. Joseph, however, became full of a painful attention. X He brought into view an unsuspected tube, with a cone of paper at its end, and bent over her mother, directing a stream of cold air against her head. "How do you feel?" he asked, with, Linda noticed, a startling loss of his first accent. Mrs. Condon so far felt well enough. Then, before Linda's startled gaze, every single one of the fifteen imprisoning tubes began to steam with an extraordinary vigor; not only did they steam, like teapots, but drops of water formed and slowly slid over her mother's face. If the process appeared weird at the beginning, now it was utterly fantastic. The little white vapor spurts played about Mrs. Condon's dripping countenance; they increased rather than diminished; actually it resembled a wrecked locomotive she had once seen. "How are you?" M. Joseph demanded nervously. "Is it hot anywhere?" With a sudden gesture she replied in a shaking voice, "Here." Instantly he was holding the paper cone with its cold air against her scalp, and the heat was subdued. He glanced nervously at his watch, and Mrs. Condon managed to ask, "How long?" "Twenty minutes." Dangerous as the whole proceeding seemed nothing really happened, and Linda's fears gradually faded into a mere curiosity and interest. A curtain hung across the door to the rest of the establishment, but it had been brushed partly aside; and she could see, in the compartment they had vacated, another man bending with waving irons over the liberated mass of a woman's hair. He was very much like M. Joseph, but he was younger and had only a dark scrap of mustache. As he caught up the hair with a quick double twist he leaned very close to the woman's face, whispering with an expression that never changed, an expression like that of the wax heads in the show-case. He bent so low that Linda was certain their cheeks had touched. She pondered at length over this, gazing now at the man beyond and now at M. Joseph flitting with the cold-air tube about her mother; wondering if, when she grew older, she would like a hair-dresser's cheek against hers. Linda decided not. The idea didn't shock her, the woman in the other space plainly liked it; still she decided she wouldn't. A different kind of man, she told herself, would be nicer. Her thoughts were interrupted by a sharp, unpleasant odor--the odor of scorched hair; and she was absolutely rigid with horror at an agonized cry from her mother. "It's burning me terribly," the latter cried. "Oh, I can't stand it. Stop! Stop!" M. Joseph, as white as plaster, rushed to the wall and reversed the handle, and Mrs. Condon started from the chair, her face now streaming with actual tears; but before she could escape the man threw himself on her shoulders. "You mustn't move," he whispered desperately, "you'll tear your hair out. I tell you no harm's been done. Everything is all right. Please, please don't cry like that. It will ruin my business. There are others in the establishment. Stop!" he shook her viciously. Linda had risen, terrorized; and Mrs. Condon, with waving plucking hands, was sobbing an appeal to be released. "My head, my head," she repeated. "I assure you"--the man motioned to a pallid girl to hold her in the chair. With a towel to protect his hand he undid a screw, lifted off the cap and untwisted the cotton from a bound lock of hair; releasing it, in turn, from the spindle it fell forward in a complete corkscrew over Mrs. Condon's face. "Do you see!" he demanded. "Perfect. I give you my word they'll all be like that. The cursed heat ran up on me," he added in a swift aside to his assistant. "Has Mrs. Bellows gone? Who's still in the place? Here, loose that binding ... thank God, that one is all right, too." Together they unfastened most of the connections, and a growing fringe of long remarkable curls marked Mrs. Condon's pain-drawn and dabbled face. Linda sobbed uncontrollably; but perhaps, after all, nothing frightful had happened. Her poor mother! Then fear again tightened about her heart at the perturbed expression that overtook the hair-dresser. He was trying in vain to remove one of the caps. She caught enigmatic words--"the borax, crystallized ... solid. It would take a plumber ... have to go." The connection was immovable. Even in her suffering Mrs. Condon implored M. Joseph to save her hair. Nothing, however, could be done; he admitted it with pale lips. The thing might be chiseled off; in the end he tried to force a release and the strand, with a renewal of Mrs. Condon's agony--now, in the interest of her appearance, heroically withstood--snapped short in the container. Rapidly recovering her vigor, she launched on a tirade against M. Joseph and his permanent waving establishment--Linda had never before heard her mother talk in such a loud brutal manner, nor use such heated unpleasant words, and the girl was flooded with a wretched shame. Still another lock, it was revealed, had been ruined, and crumbled to mere dust in its owner's fingers. "The law will provide for you," she promised. "Your hair was dyed," the proprietor returned vindictively. "The girl who washed it will testify. Every one is warned against the permanent if their hair has been colored. So it was at your own risk." "My head's never been touched with dye," Mrs. Condon shrilly answered. "You lying little ape. And well does that young woman know it. She complimented me herself on a true blonde." The girl had, too, right before Linda. "You ought to be thrashed out of the city." "Your money will be given back to you," M. Joseph told her. Outside they found a taxi, and sped back to their hotel. Above, Mrs. Condon removed her hat; and, before the uncompromising mirror, studied her wrecked hair--a frizzled vacancy was directly over her left brow--and haggard face. When she finally turned to Linda, her manner, her words, were solemn. "I'm middle-aged," she said. A dreary silence enveloped them sitting in the dark reception-room while Mrs. Condon restlessly shredded unlighted cigarettes on the floor. She had made no effort to repair the damages to her appearance, and when the telephone bell sharply sounded, she reached out in a slovenly negligence of manner. Linda could hear a blurred articulation and her mother answering listlessly. The latter at last said: "Very well, at seven then; you'll stop for us." She hung up the receiver, stared blankly at Linda, and then went off into a harsh mirth. "Oh, my God!" she cried; "the old ladies' home!" XI With her mother away on a wedding-trip with Mr. Moses Feldt, Linda was suddenly projected into the companionship of his two daughters. One, as he had said, was light, but a different fairness from Mrs. Condon's--richly thick, like honey; while Judith, the elder, who must have been twenty, was dark in skin, in everything but her eyes, which were a contrasting ashen-violet. She spoke at once of Linda's flawless whiteness: "A magnolia," she said, in a deliberate dark voice; "you are quite a gorgeous child. Do you mind my saying that your clothes are rather quaint? They aren't inevitable, and yours ought to be that." They were at lunch in the Feldt dining-room, an interior of heavy ornately carved black wood, panels of Chinese embroidery in imperial yellow, and a neutral mauve carpet. The effect, with glittering iridescent pyramids of glass, massive frosted repouss silver, burnished gold-plate and a wide table decoration of orchids and fern, was tropical and intense. It was evident to Linda that the Feldts were very rich indeed. The entire apartment resembled the dining-room, while the building itself filled a whole city block, with a garden and fountains like an elaborate public square. Linda, however, wasn't particularly impressed by such show; she saw that Judith and Pansy had expected that of her; but she was determined not to exhibit a surprise that would imply any changes in her mother's and her condition. In addition, Linda calmly took such surroundings for granted. Her primary conception of possible existence was elegance; its necessity had so entered into her being that it

laid

How many times the word 'laid' appears in the text?

you with that chauffeur we have had so much. I positively forbid your leaving the hotel else. It's a comfort after all, that you are serious. Kiss mama--" However, she descended with her mother in the elevator; there was a more public caress; and the captain in the Chinese dining-room placed Linda at a small table against the wall. There she had clams--she adored iced clams--creamed shrimps and oysters with potatoes _bordure_, alligator-pear salad and a beautiful charlotte cream with black walnuts. After this she sedately instructed the captain what to sign on the back of the dinner check--Linda Condon, room five hundred and seven--placed thirty-five cents beside the finger-bowl for the waiter, and made her way out to the news stand and the talkative girl who had it in charge. Exhausting the possibilities of gossip, and deciding not to go out to the theatre--in spite of the news girl's exciting description of a play called "The New Sin"--she was walking irresolutely through the high gilded and marble assemblage space when, unfortunately, she was captured by Mr. Moses Feldt. VII He led her to a high-backed lounge against the wall, where, seated on its extreme edge, he gazed silently at her with an expression of sentimental concern. Mr. Moses Feldt was a short round man, bald but for a fluffy rim of pale hair, and with the palest imaginable eyes in a countenance perpetually flushed by the physical necessity of accommodating his rotundity to awkward edges and conditions. As usual he was dressed with the nicest care--a band of white linen laid in the opening of his waistcoat, his scarf ornamented by a pear-shaped pearl on a diamond finished stem; his cloth-topped varnished black shoes glistened, while his short fat fingers clasped a prodigious unlighted cigar. At last, in a tone exactly suited to his gaze, he exclaimed: "So that naughty mama has gone out again and deserted Moses and her little Linda!" In what way her mother had deserted Mr. Feldt she failed to understand. Of course he wanted to marry them--the comprehensive phrase was his own--but that didn't include him in whatever they did. Principally it made a joke for their private entertainment. Mrs. Condon would mimic his eager manner, "Stella, let me take you both home where you'll have the best in the land," And, "Ladies like you ought to have a loving protection." Linda would laugh in her cool bell-like manner, and her mother add a satirical comment on the chance any Moses Feldt had of marrying her. Linda at once found him ridiculous and a being who forced a slighting warmth of liking. His appearance was preposterous, the ready emotion often too foolish for words; but underneath there was a--a goodness, a mysterious quality that stirred her heart to recognition. Certain rare things in life and experience affected her like that memory of an old happiness. She could never say what they might be, they came at the oddest times and by the most extraordinary means; but at their occurrence she would thrill for a moment as if in response to a sound of music. It was, for example, absurd that Mr. Moses Feldt, who was a Jew, should make her feel like that, but he did. And all the while that she was disagreeable to him, or mocking him behind his back, she was as uncomfortable and "horrid" as possible. While this fact, of course, only served to make her horrider still. At present she adopted the manner of a patience that nothing could quite exhaust; she was polite and formal, relentlessly correct in position. Mr. Moses Feldt, the cigar in his grasp, pressed a hand to the probable region of his heart. "You don't know how I think of you," he protested, tears in his eyes; "just the idea of you exposed to anything at all in hotels keeps me awake nights. Now it's a drunk, or a fresh feller on the elevator, or--" "It's nice of you," Linda said, "but you needn't worry. No one would dare to bother us. No one ever has." "You wouldn't know it if they did," he replied despondently, "at your age. And then your mother is so trustful and pleasant. Take those parties where she is so much--roof frolics and cocoanut groves and submarine caf s; they don't come to any good. Rowdy." Linda studied him coldly; if he criticized them further she would leave. He mopped a shining brow with a large colorful silk handkerchief. "It throws me into a sweat," he admitted. "Really, Mr. Feldt, you mustn't bother," she told him in one of her few impulses of friendliness. "You see, we are very experienced." He nodded without visible happiness at this truth. "I'm a jackass!" he cried. "Judith tells me that all the time. If you could only see my daughters," he continued with a new vigor; "such lovely girls as they are. One dark like you and the other fair as a daisy. Judith and Pansy. And my home that darling mama made before she died." The handkerchief was again in evidence. "Women and girls are funny. I can't get you there and not for nothing will Judith make a step. It may be pride but it seems to me such nonsense. I guess I'm old-fashioned and love's old-fashioned. Homes have gone out of style with the rest. It's all these restaurants and roofs now, yes, and studios. I tell the girls to stay away from them and from artists and so on. I don't encourage them at the apartment--a big lump of a feller with platinum bracelets on his wrists. What kind of a man would that be! I'd like to know who'd buy goods from him. "Sometimes, I'm sorry I got a lot of money, but it made mama happy. When she laid there at the last sick and couldn't live, I said, 'Oh, if you only won't leave me I'll give you gold to eat.'" He was so moved, his face so red, that Linda grew acutely embarrassed. People were looking at them. She rose stiffly but, in spite of her effort to escape him, he caught both her hands in his: "You say I'm an old idiot like Judith," he begged. This Linda declined to do. And, "Ask your mother if you won't come to dinner with the girls and me, cozy and at home--just once." "I'm afraid it will do no good," she admitted; "but I'll try." She realized that he was about to kiss her and moved quickly back. "I am almost afraid of you," he told her; "you're so distant and elegant. Judith and Pansy would get on with you first rate. I'll telephone tomorrow, in the afternoon. If the last flowers I sent you came I never heard of it." She thanked him appropriately for the roses and stood, erect and impersonal, as a man in the hotel livery helped him into a coat. Mr. Moses Feldt waved the still unlighted cigar at her and disappeared through the rotating door to the street. She gave a half-affected sigh of relief. Couldn't he see that her mother would never marry him. At the same time the strange thrill touched her; the sense of his absurdity vanished and she no longer remembered him perched like a painted rubber ball on the edge of the lounge. In the somber red plush and varnished wood of the reception-room of their suite he seemed again charming. Perhaps it was because he, too, adored her mother. That wasn't the reason. The familiar rare joy lingered. It seemed now as though she were to capture and understand it ... there was the vibration of music; and then, as always, she felt at once sad and brave. But, in spite of her old effort to the contrary, the feeling died away. Some day it would be clear to her; in the meanwhile Mr. Moses Feldt became once more only ridiculous. VIII In the morning she was dressed and had returned from breakfast before her mother stirred. The latter moved sharply, brought an arm up over her head, and swore. It was a long while before she got up or spoke again, and Linda never remembered her in a worse temper. When, finally, she came into the room where the breakfast-tray was laid, Linda was inexpressibly shocked--all that her mother had dreaded about her appearance had come disastrously true. Her face was hung with shadows like smudges of dirt and her eyes were netted with lines. Examining the dishes with distaste she told Linda that positively she could slap her for letting them bring up orange-juice. "How often must I explain to you that it freezes my fingers." Linda replied that she had repeated this in the breakfast-room and perhaps they had the wrong order. Neither her mother nor she said anything more until Mrs. Condon had finished her coffee and started a second cigarette. Then Linda related something of Mr. Moses Feldt's call on the evening before. "He cried right into his handkerchief," she said, "until I thought I should sink." Mrs. Condon eyed her daughter speculatively. "Now if you were only four years older," she declared, "it would be a good thing. He was simply born to be a husband." Horror filled Linda at the other's implication. "Yes," the elder insisted; "you couldn't do better; except, perhaps, for those girls of his. But then you'd have no trouble making them miserable. It's time to talk to you seriously about marriage." The smoke from the cigarette eddied in a gray veil across her unrefreshed face. "You're old for your age, Linda; your life has made you that; and, like I said last night, it is rather better than not. Well, for you marriage, and soon as possible, is the proper thing. Mind, I have never said a word against it; only what suits one doesn't suit another. Where it wouldn't be anything more than an old ladies' home to me you need it early and plenty. You are too intense. That doesn't go in the world. Men don't like it. They want their pleasure and comfort without strings tied to them; the intensity has to be theirs. "What you must get through your head is that love--whatever it is--and marriage are two different things, and if you are going to be successful they must be kept separate. You can't do anything with a man if you love him; but then you can't do anything with him if he doesn't love you. That's the whole thing in a breath. I am not crying down love, either; only I don't want you to think it is the bread and butter while it's nothing more than those little sweet cakes at Henri's. "Now any girl who marries a poor man or for love--they are the same thing--is a fool and deserves what she gets. No one thanks her for it, him least of all; because if she does love him it is only to make them miserable. She's always at him--where did he go and why did he stay so long, and no matter what he says she knows it's a lie. More times than not she's right, too. I can't tell you too often--men don't want to be loved, they like to be flattered and flattered and then flattered again. You'd never believe how childish they are. "Make them think they're it and don't give too much--that's the secret. Above all else don't be easy on them. Don't say 'all right, darling, next spring will do as well for a new suit.' Get it then and let him worry about paying for it, if worry he must. If they don't give it to you some one smarter will wear it. But I started to talk about getting married. "Choose a Moses Feldt, who will always be grateful to you, and keep him at it. They are so easy to land it's a kind of shame, too. Perhaps I am telling you this too soon, but I don't want any mistakes. Well, pick out your Moses--and mama will help you there--and suddenly, at the right time, show him that you can be affectionate; surprise him with it and you so staid and particular generally. Don't overdo it, promise more than you ever give-- "In the closet, dearie, just a little. That's a good girl. Mama's so dry." She rose, the silver cup of the flask in her hand, and moved inevitably to the mirror. "My hair's a sight," she remarked; "all strings. I believe I'll get a permanent wave. They say it lasts for six months or more, till the ends grow out. Makes a lot of it, too, and holds the front together. If you've ever had dye in your hair, I hear, it will break off like grass." Linda pondered over what she had been told of love and marriage; on the whole the exposition had been unsatisfactory. The latter she was able to grasp, but her mother had admitted an inability exactly to fix love. One fact, apparently, was clear--it was a nuisance and a hindrance to happiness, or rather to success. Love upset things. Still she had the strongest objection possible to living forever with a man like Mr. Moses Feldt. At once all that she had hoped for from life grew flat and uninteresting. She had no doubt of her mother's correctness and wisdom; the world was like that; she must make the best of it. There was some telephoning, inquiries, and she heard the elder make an appointment with a hair-dresser for three that afternoon. She wondered what it would be like to have your hair permanently waved and hoped that she would see it done. This, too, she realized, was a part of the necessity of always considering men--they liked your hair to be wavy. Hers was as straight and stupid as possible. She, in turn, examined herself in a mirror: the black bang fell exactly to her eyebrows, her face had no color other than the carnation of her lips and her deep blue eyes. She moved away and critically studied her figure; inches and inches too thin, she decided. Undoubtedly her mother was right, and she must marry at the first opportunity--if she could find a man, a rich man, who was willing. Her thoughts returned vaguely to the mystery, the nuisance, of love. Surely she had heard something before, immensely important, about it, and totally different from all her mother had said. Her mind was filled with the fantastic image of a forest, of dangers, and a fat china figure with curled plumes, a nodding head, that brushed her with fear and disgust. A shuddering panic took possession of her, flashes burned before her eyes, and she ran gasping to the perfumed soft reassurances of her mother. IX In a recurrence of her surprising concern of the day before Mrs. Condon declined to leave her dearest Linda alone; and, their arms caught together in a surging affection, they walked down Fifth Avenue toward the hairdresser's. There was a diffused gray sparkle of sunlight--it was early for the throngs--through which they passed rapidly to the accompaniment of a rapid eager chatter. Linda wore a deep smooth camel's hair cape, over which her intense black hair poured like ink, and her face was shaded by a dipping green velvet hat. Her mother, in one of the tightly cut suits she affected, had never been more like a perfect companion. They saw, in the window of a store for men, a set of violent purple wool underwear, and barely escaped hysterics at the thought of Mr. Moses Feldt in such a garb. They giggled idiotically at the spectacle of a countryman fearfully making the sharp descent from the top of a lurching omnibus. And then, when they had reached the place of Mrs. Condon's appointment, stopped at the show of elaborately waved hair on wax heads and chose which, probably, would resemble the elder and which, in a very short while now, Linda. There was an impressive interior, furnished in gray panels and silvery wood; and the young woman at the desk was more surprisingly waved than anything they had yet seen. M. Joseph would be ready almost immediately; and in the meanwhile Mrs. Condon could lay aside her things in preparation for the hair to be washed. She did this while Linda followed every movement with the deepest interest. At the back of the long room was a succession of small alcoves, each with an important-looking chair and mirror and shelves, a white basin, water-taps and rubber tubes. Settled, in comfort, Mrs. Condon's hair was spread out in a bright metal tray fastened to the back of the chair, and the attendant, a moist tired girl in a careless waist, sprayed the short thick gold-colored strands. "My," she observed, "what some wouldn't give for your shade! Never been touched, I can see, either. A lady comes in with real Titian, but yours is more select. It positively is Lillian Russell." While she talked her hands sped with incredible rapidity and skill. "The gentlemen don't notice it; of course not; oh, no! There was a girl here, a true blonde, but she didn't stay long--her own car, yes, indeed. Married her right out of the establishment. There wasn't any nonsense to her. "So this is your little girl! I'd never have believed it. Not that she hasn't a great deal of style, a great deal--almost, you might say, like an Egyptian. In the movies last night; her all over. It's a type that will need studying. Bertha Kalich. But for me--" Already, Linda saw, this part of the operation was done. The girl wheeled into position a case that had a fan and ring of blue flickering flames, and a cupped tube through which hot air was poured over her mother's head. M. Joseph strutted in, a small carefully dressed man with a diminutive pointed gray beard and formal curled mustache. He spoke with what Linda supposed was a French accent, and his manners, at least to them, were beautiful. But because the girl had not put out the blue flames quickly enough he turned to her with a voice of quivering rage. It was so unexpected, in the middle of his bowing and smooth assurances, that Linda was startled, and had to think about him all over. The result of this was a surprising dislike; she hated, even, to see him touch her mother, as he unnecessarily did in directing them into the enclosure for the permanent wave. The place itself filled her with the faint horror of instruments and the unknown. Above the chair where Mrs. Condon now sat there was a circle in the ceiling like the base of a chandelier and hanging down from it on twisted green wires were a great number of the strangest things imaginable: they were as thick as her wrist, but round, longer and hollow, white china inside and covered with brown wrapping. The wires of each, she discovered, led over a little wheel and down again to a swinging clock-like weight. In addition to this there were strange depressing handles on the wall by a dial with a jiggling needle and clearly marked numbers. The skill of the girl who had washed her mother's hair, however, was slight compared with M. Joseph's dexterity. The comb flashed in his white narrow hands; in no time at all every knot was urged out into a shining smoothness. "Just the front?" he inquired. Not waiting for Mrs. Condon's reply, he detached a strand from the mass over her brow, impaled it on a hairpin, while he picked up what might have been a thick steel knitting-needle with one end fastened in the middle of a silver quarter. The latter, it developed, had a hole in it, through which he drew the strand of hair, and then wrapped it with an angry tightness about the long projection. At this exact moment a new girl, but tired and moist, appeared, took a hank of white threads from a dressing-table, and tied that separate lock firmly. This, Linda counted, was repeated fifteen times; and when it was accomplished she was unable to repress a nervous laughter. Really, her mother looked too queer for words: the long rigid projections stood out all over her head like--like a huge pincushion; no, it was a porcupine. Mrs. Condon smiled in uncertain recognition of her daughter's mirth. Then Linda's attention followed M. Joseph to a table against a partition, where he secured a white cotton strip from a film of them soaking in a shallow tray, took up some white powder on the blade of a dessert knife and transferred it to the strip. This he wrapped and wrapped about the hair fastened on a spindle, tied it in turn, and dragged down one of the brown objects on wires, which, to Linda's great astonishment, fitted precisely over the cotton-bound hair. Again, fifteen times, M. Joseph did this, fastening each connection with the turn of a screw. When so much was accomplished her mother's hair, it seemed, had grown fast to the ceiling in a tangle of green ends. It was the most terrifying spectacle Linda had ever witnessed. Obscure thoughts of torture, of criminals executed by electricity, froze her in a set apprehension. The hair-dresser stepped over to the dials on the wall, and, with a sharp comprehensive glance at his apparatus, moved a handle as far as it would go. Nothing immediately happened, and Linda gave a relaxing sigh of relief. M. Joseph, however, became full of a painful attention. X He brought into view an unsuspected tube, with a cone of paper at its end, and bent over her mother, directing a stream of cold air against her head. "How do you feel?" he asked, with, Linda noticed, a startling loss of his first accent. Mrs. Condon so far felt well enough. Then, before Linda's startled gaze, every single one of the fifteen imprisoning tubes began to steam with an extraordinary vigor; not only did they steam, like teapots, but drops of water formed and slowly slid over her mother's face. If the process appeared weird at the beginning, now it was utterly fantastic. The little white vapor spurts played about Mrs. Condon's dripping countenance; they increased rather than diminished; actually it resembled a wrecked locomotive she had once seen. "How are you?" M. Joseph demanded nervously. "Is it hot anywhere?" With a sudden gesture she replied in a shaking voice, "Here." Instantly he was holding the paper cone with its cold air against her scalp, and the heat was subdued. He glanced nervously at his watch, and Mrs. Condon managed to ask, "How long?" "Twenty minutes." Dangerous as the whole proceeding seemed nothing really happened, and Linda's fears gradually faded into a mere curiosity and interest. A curtain hung across the door to the rest of the establishment, but it had been brushed partly aside; and she could see, in the compartment they had vacated, another man bending with waving irons over the liberated mass of a woman's hair. He was very much like M. Joseph, but he was younger and had only a dark scrap of mustache. As he caught up the hair with a quick double twist he leaned very close to the woman's face, whispering with an expression that never changed, an expression like that of the wax heads in the show-case. He bent so low that Linda was certain their cheeks had touched. She pondered at length over this, gazing now at the man beyond and now at M. Joseph flitting with the cold-air tube about her mother; wondering if, when she grew older, she would like a hair-dresser's cheek against hers. Linda decided not. The idea didn't shock her, the woman in the other space plainly liked it; still she decided she wouldn't. A different kind of man, she told herself, would be nicer. Her thoughts were interrupted by a sharp, unpleasant odor--the odor of scorched hair; and she was absolutely rigid with horror at an agonized cry from her mother. "It's burning me terribly," the latter cried. "Oh, I can't stand it. Stop! Stop!" M. Joseph, as white as plaster, rushed to the wall and reversed the handle, and Mrs. Condon started from the chair, her face now streaming with actual tears; but before she could escape the man threw himself on her shoulders. "You mustn't move," he whispered desperately, "you'll tear your hair out. I tell you no harm's been done. Everything is all right. Please, please don't cry like that. It will ruin my business. There are others in the establishment. Stop!" he shook her viciously. Linda had risen, terrorized; and Mrs. Condon, with waving plucking hands, was sobbing an appeal to be released. "My head, my head," she repeated. "I assure you"--the man motioned to a pallid girl to hold her in the chair. With a towel to protect his hand he undid a screw, lifted off the cap and untwisted the cotton from a bound lock of hair; releasing it, in turn, from the spindle it fell forward in a complete corkscrew over Mrs. Condon's face. "Do you see!" he demanded. "Perfect. I give you my word they'll all be like that. The cursed heat ran up on me," he added in a swift aside to his assistant. "Has Mrs. Bellows gone? Who's still in the place? Here, loose that binding ... thank God, that one is all right, too." Together they unfastened most of the connections, and a growing fringe of long remarkable curls marked Mrs. Condon's pain-drawn and dabbled face. Linda sobbed uncontrollably; but perhaps, after all, nothing frightful had happened. Her poor mother! Then fear again tightened about her heart at the perturbed expression that overtook the hair-dresser. He was trying in vain to remove one of the caps. She caught enigmatic words--"the borax, crystallized ... solid. It would take a plumber ... have to go." The connection was immovable. Even in her suffering Mrs. Condon implored M. Joseph to save her hair. Nothing, however, could be done; he admitted it with pale lips. The thing might be chiseled off; in the end he tried to force a release and the strand, with a renewal of Mrs. Condon's agony--now, in the interest of her appearance, heroically withstood--snapped short in the container. Rapidly recovering her vigor, she launched on a tirade against M. Joseph and his permanent waving establishment--Linda had never before heard her mother talk in such a loud brutal manner, nor use such heated unpleasant words, and the girl was flooded with a wretched shame. Still another lock, it was revealed, had been ruined, and crumbled to mere dust in its owner's fingers. "The law will provide for you," she promised. "Your hair was dyed," the proprietor returned vindictively. "The girl who washed it will testify. Every one is warned against the permanent if their hair has been colored. So it was at your own risk." "My head's never been touched with dye," Mrs. Condon shrilly answered. "You lying little ape. And well does that young woman know it. She complimented me herself on a true blonde." The girl had, too, right before Linda. "You ought to be thrashed out of the city." "Your money will be given back to you," M. Joseph told her. Outside they found a taxi, and sped back to their hotel. Above, Mrs. Condon removed her hat; and, before the uncompromising mirror, studied her wrecked hair--a frizzled vacancy was directly over her left brow--and haggard face. When she finally turned to Linda, her manner, her words, were solemn. "I'm middle-aged," she said. A dreary silence enveloped them sitting in the dark reception-room while Mrs. Condon restlessly shredded unlighted cigarettes on the floor. She had made no effort to repair the damages to her appearance, and when the telephone bell sharply sounded, she reached out in a slovenly negligence of manner. Linda could hear a blurred articulation and her mother answering listlessly. The latter at last said: "Very well, at seven then; you'll stop for us." She hung up the receiver, stared blankly at Linda, and then went off into a harsh mirth. "Oh, my God!" she cried; "the old ladies' home!" XI With her mother away on a wedding-trip with Mr. Moses Feldt, Linda was suddenly projected into the companionship of his two daughters. One, as he had said, was light, but a different fairness from Mrs. Condon's--richly thick, like honey; while Judith, the elder, who must have been twenty, was dark in skin, in everything but her eyes, which were a contrasting ashen-violet. She spoke at once of Linda's flawless whiteness: "A magnolia," she said, in a deliberate dark voice; "you are quite a gorgeous child. Do you mind my saying that your clothes are rather quaint? They aren't inevitable, and yours ought to be that." They were at lunch in the Feldt dining-room, an interior of heavy ornately carved black wood, panels of Chinese embroidery in imperial yellow, and a neutral mauve carpet. The effect, with glittering iridescent pyramids of glass, massive frosted repouss silver, burnished gold-plate and a wide table decoration of orchids and fern, was tropical and intense. It was evident to Linda that the Feldts were very rich indeed. The entire apartment resembled the dining-room, while the building itself filled a whole city block, with a garden and fountains like an elaborate public square. Linda, however, wasn't particularly impressed by such show; she saw that Judith and Pansy had expected that of her; but she was determined not to exhibit a surprise that would imply any changes in her mother's and her condition. In addition, Linda calmly took such surroundings for granted. Her primary conception of possible existence was elegance; its necessity had so entered into her being that it

placed

How many times the word 'placed' appears in the text?

you with that chauffeur we have had so much. I positively forbid your leaving the hotel else. It's a comfort after all, that you are serious. Kiss mama--" However, she descended with her mother in the elevator; there was a more public caress; and the captain in the Chinese dining-room placed Linda at a small table against the wall. There she had clams--she adored iced clams--creamed shrimps and oysters with potatoes _bordure_, alligator-pear salad and a beautiful charlotte cream with black walnuts. After this she sedately instructed the captain what to sign on the back of the dinner check--Linda Condon, room five hundred and seven--placed thirty-five cents beside the finger-bowl for the waiter, and made her way out to the news stand and the talkative girl who had it in charge. Exhausting the possibilities of gossip, and deciding not to go out to the theatre--in spite of the news girl's exciting description of a play called "The New Sin"--she was walking irresolutely through the high gilded and marble assemblage space when, unfortunately, she was captured by Mr. Moses Feldt. VII He led her to a high-backed lounge against the wall, where, seated on its extreme edge, he gazed silently at her with an expression of sentimental concern. Mr. Moses Feldt was a short round man, bald but for a fluffy rim of pale hair, and with the palest imaginable eyes in a countenance perpetually flushed by the physical necessity of accommodating his rotundity to awkward edges and conditions. As usual he was dressed with the nicest care--a band of white linen laid in the opening of his waistcoat, his scarf ornamented by a pear-shaped pearl on a diamond finished stem; his cloth-topped varnished black shoes glistened, while his short fat fingers clasped a prodigious unlighted cigar. At last, in a tone exactly suited to his gaze, he exclaimed: "So that naughty mama has gone out again and deserted Moses and her little Linda!" In what way her mother had deserted Mr. Feldt she failed to understand. Of course he wanted to marry them--the comprehensive phrase was his own--but that didn't include him in whatever they did. Principally it made a joke for their private entertainment. Mrs. Condon would mimic his eager manner, "Stella, let me take you both home where you'll have the best in the land," And, "Ladies like you ought to have a loving protection." Linda would laugh in her cool bell-like manner, and her mother add a satirical comment on the chance any Moses Feldt had of marrying her. Linda at once found him ridiculous and a being who forced a slighting warmth of liking. His appearance was preposterous, the ready emotion often too foolish for words; but underneath there was a--a goodness, a mysterious quality that stirred her heart to recognition. Certain rare things in life and experience affected her like that memory of an old happiness. She could never say what they might be, they came at the oddest times and by the most extraordinary means; but at their occurrence she would thrill for a moment as if in response to a sound of music. It was, for example, absurd that Mr. Moses Feldt, who was a Jew, should make her feel like that, but he did. And all the while that she was disagreeable to him, or mocking him behind his back, she was as uncomfortable and "horrid" as possible. While this fact, of course, only served to make her horrider still. At present she adopted the manner of a patience that nothing could quite exhaust; she was polite and formal, relentlessly correct in position. Mr. Moses Feldt, the cigar in his grasp, pressed a hand to the probable region of his heart. "You don't know how I think of you," he protested, tears in his eyes; "just the idea of you exposed to anything at all in hotels keeps me awake nights. Now it's a drunk, or a fresh feller on the elevator, or--" "It's nice of you," Linda said, "but you needn't worry. No one would dare to bother us. No one ever has." "You wouldn't know it if they did," he replied despondently, "at your age. And then your mother is so trustful and pleasant. Take those parties where she is so much--roof frolics and cocoanut groves and submarine caf s; they don't come to any good. Rowdy." Linda studied him coldly; if he criticized them further she would leave. He mopped a shining brow with a large colorful silk handkerchief. "It throws me into a sweat," he admitted. "Really, Mr. Feldt, you mustn't bother," she told him in one of her few impulses of friendliness. "You see, we are very experienced." He nodded without visible happiness at this truth. "I'm a jackass!" he cried. "Judith tells me that all the time. If you could only see my daughters," he continued with a new vigor; "such lovely girls as they are. One dark like you and the other fair as a daisy. Judith and Pansy. And my home that darling mama made before she died." The handkerchief was again in evidence. "Women and girls are funny. I can't get you there and not for nothing will Judith make a step. It may be pride but it seems to me such nonsense. I guess I'm old-fashioned and love's old-fashioned. Homes have gone out of style with the rest. It's all these restaurants and roofs now, yes, and studios. I tell the girls to stay away from them and from artists and so on. I don't encourage them at the apartment--a big lump of a feller with platinum bracelets on his wrists. What kind of a man would that be! I'd like to know who'd buy goods from him. "Sometimes, I'm sorry I got a lot of money, but it made mama happy. When she laid there at the last sick and couldn't live, I said, 'Oh, if you only won't leave me I'll give you gold to eat.'" He was so moved, his face so red, that Linda grew acutely embarrassed. People were looking at them. She rose stiffly but, in spite of her effort to escape him, he caught both her hands in his: "You say I'm an old idiot like Judith," he begged. This Linda declined to do. And, "Ask your mother if you won't come to dinner with the girls and me, cozy and at home--just once." "I'm afraid it will do no good," she admitted; "but I'll try." She realized that he was about to kiss her and moved quickly back. "I am almost afraid of you," he told her; "you're so distant and elegant. Judith and Pansy would get on with you first rate. I'll telephone tomorrow, in the afternoon. If the last flowers I sent you came I never heard of it." She thanked him appropriately for the roses and stood, erect and impersonal, as a man in the hotel livery helped him into a coat. Mr. Moses Feldt waved the still unlighted cigar at her and disappeared through the rotating door to the street. She gave a half-affected sigh of relief. Couldn't he see that her mother would never marry him. At the same time the strange thrill touched her; the sense of his absurdity vanished and she no longer remembered him perched like a painted rubber ball on the edge of the lounge. In the somber red plush and varnished wood of the reception-room of their suite he seemed again charming. Perhaps it was because he, too, adored her mother. That wasn't the reason. The familiar rare joy lingered. It seemed now as though she were to capture and understand it ... there was the vibration of music; and then, as always, she felt at once sad and brave. But, in spite of her old effort to the contrary, the feeling died away. Some day it would be clear to her; in the meanwhile Mr. Moses Feldt became once more only ridiculous. VIII In the morning she was dressed and had returned from breakfast before her mother stirred. The latter moved sharply, brought an arm up over her head, and swore. It was a long while before she got up or spoke again, and Linda never remembered her in a worse temper. When, finally, she came into the room where the breakfast-tray was laid, Linda was inexpressibly shocked--all that her mother had dreaded about her appearance had come disastrously true. Her face was hung with shadows like smudges of dirt and her eyes were netted with lines. Examining the dishes with distaste she told Linda that positively she could slap her for letting them bring up orange-juice. "How often must I explain to you that it freezes my fingers." Linda replied that she had repeated this in the breakfast-room and perhaps they had the wrong order. Neither her mother nor she said anything more until Mrs. Condon had finished her coffee and started a second cigarette. Then Linda related something of Mr. Moses Feldt's call on the evening before. "He cried right into his handkerchief," she said, "until I thought I should sink." Mrs. Condon eyed her daughter speculatively. "Now if you were only four years older," she declared, "it would be a good thing. He was simply born to be a husband." Horror filled Linda at the other's implication. "Yes," the elder insisted; "you couldn't do better; except, perhaps, for those girls of his. But then you'd have no trouble making them miserable. It's time to talk to you seriously about marriage." The smoke from the cigarette eddied in a gray veil across her unrefreshed face. "You're old for your age, Linda; your life has made you that; and, like I said last night, it is rather better than not. Well, for you marriage, and soon as possible, is the proper thing. Mind, I have never said a word against it; only what suits one doesn't suit another. Where it wouldn't be anything more than an old ladies' home to me you need it early and plenty. You are too intense. That doesn't go in the world. Men don't like it. They want their pleasure and comfort without strings tied to them; the intensity has to be theirs. "What you must get through your head is that love--whatever it is--and marriage are two different things, and if you are going to be successful they must be kept separate. You can't do anything with a man if you love him; but then you can't do anything with him if he doesn't love you. That's the whole thing in a breath. I am not crying down love, either; only I don't want you to think it is the bread and butter while it's nothing more than those little sweet cakes at Henri's. "Now any girl who marries a poor man or for love--they are the same thing--is a fool and deserves what she gets. No one thanks her for it, him least of all; because if she does love him it is only to make them miserable. She's always at him--where did he go and why did he stay so long, and no matter what he says she knows it's a lie. More times than not she's right, too. I can't tell you too often--men don't want to be loved, they like to be flattered and flattered and then flattered again. You'd never believe how childish they are. "Make them think they're it and don't give too much--that's the secret. Above all else don't be easy on them. Don't say 'all right, darling, next spring will do as well for a new suit.' Get it then and let him worry about paying for it, if worry he must. If they don't give it to you some one smarter will wear it. But I started to talk about getting married. "Choose a Moses Feldt, who will always be grateful to you, and keep him at it. They are so easy to land it's a kind of shame, too. Perhaps I am telling you this too soon, but I don't want any mistakes. Well, pick out your Moses--and mama will help you there--and suddenly, at the right time, show him that you can be affectionate; surprise him with it and you so staid and particular generally. Don't overdo it, promise more than you ever give-- "In the closet, dearie, just a little. That's a good girl. Mama's so dry." She rose, the silver cup of the flask in her hand, and moved inevitably to the mirror. "My hair's a sight," she remarked; "all strings. I believe I'll get a permanent wave. They say it lasts for six months or more, till the ends grow out. Makes a lot of it, too, and holds the front together. If you've ever had dye in your hair, I hear, it will break off like grass." Linda pondered over what she had been told of love and marriage; on the whole the exposition had been unsatisfactory. The latter she was able to grasp, but her mother had admitted an inability exactly to fix love. One fact, apparently, was clear--it was a nuisance and a hindrance to happiness, or rather to success. Love upset things. Still she had the strongest objection possible to living forever with a man like Mr. Moses Feldt. At once all that she had hoped for from life grew flat and uninteresting. She had no doubt of her mother's correctness and wisdom; the world was like that; she must make the best of it. There was some telephoning, inquiries, and she heard the elder make an appointment with a hair-dresser for three that afternoon. She wondered what it would be like to have your hair permanently waved and hoped that she would see it done. This, too, she realized, was a part of the necessity of always considering men--they liked your hair to be wavy. Hers was as straight and stupid as possible. She, in turn, examined herself in a mirror: the black bang fell exactly to her eyebrows, her face had no color other than the carnation of her lips and her deep blue eyes. She moved away and critically studied her figure; inches and inches too thin, she decided. Undoubtedly her mother was right, and she must marry at the first opportunity--if she could find a man, a rich man, who was willing. Her thoughts returned vaguely to the mystery, the nuisance, of love. Surely she had heard something before, immensely important, about it, and totally different from all her mother had said. Her mind was filled with the fantastic image of a forest, of dangers, and a fat china figure with curled plumes, a nodding head, that brushed her with fear and disgust. A shuddering panic took possession of her, flashes burned before her eyes, and she ran gasping to the perfumed soft reassurances of her mother. IX In a recurrence of her surprising concern of the day before Mrs. Condon declined to leave her dearest Linda alone; and, their arms caught together in a surging affection, they walked down Fifth Avenue toward the hairdresser's. There was a diffused gray sparkle of sunlight--it was early for the throngs--through which they passed rapidly to the accompaniment of a rapid eager chatter. Linda wore a deep smooth camel's hair cape, over which her intense black hair poured like ink, and her face was shaded by a dipping green velvet hat. Her mother, in one of the tightly cut suits she affected, had never been more like a perfect companion. They saw, in the window of a store for men, a set of violent purple wool underwear, and barely escaped hysterics at the thought of Mr. Moses Feldt in such a garb. They giggled idiotically at the spectacle of a countryman fearfully making the sharp descent from the top of a lurching omnibus. And then, when they had reached the place of Mrs. Condon's appointment, stopped at the show of elaborately waved hair on wax heads and chose which, probably, would resemble the elder and which, in a very short while now, Linda. There was an impressive interior, furnished in gray panels and silvery wood; and the young woman at the desk was more surprisingly waved than anything they had yet seen. M. Joseph would be ready almost immediately; and in the meanwhile Mrs. Condon could lay aside her things in preparation for the hair to be washed. She did this while Linda followed every movement with the deepest interest. At the back of the long room was a succession of small alcoves, each with an important-looking chair and mirror and shelves, a white basin, water-taps and rubber tubes. Settled, in comfort, Mrs. Condon's hair was spread out in a bright metal tray fastened to the back of the chair, and the attendant, a moist tired girl in a careless waist, sprayed the short thick gold-colored strands. "My," she observed, "what some wouldn't give for your shade! Never been touched, I can see, either. A lady comes in with real Titian, but yours is more select. It positively is Lillian Russell." While she talked her hands sped with incredible rapidity and skill. "The gentlemen don't notice it; of course not; oh, no! There was a girl here, a true blonde, but she didn't stay long--her own car, yes, indeed. Married her right out of the establishment. There wasn't any nonsense to her. "So this is your little girl! I'd never have believed it. Not that she hasn't a great deal of style, a great deal--almost, you might say, like an Egyptian. In the movies last night; her all over. It's a type that will need studying. Bertha Kalich. But for me--" Already, Linda saw, this part of the operation was done. The girl wheeled into position a case that had a fan and ring of blue flickering flames, and a cupped tube through which hot air was poured over her mother's head. M. Joseph strutted in, a small carefully dressed man with a diminutive pointed gray beard and formal curled mustache. He spoke with what Linda supposed was a French accent, and his manners, at least to them, were beautiful. But because the girl had not put out the blue flames quickly enough he turned to her with a voice of quivering rage. It was so unexpected, in the middle of his bowing and smooth assurances, that Linda was startled, and had to think about him all over. The result of this was a surprising dislike; she hated, even, to see him touch her mother, as he unnecessarily did in directing them into the enclosure for the permanent wave. The place itself filled her with the faint horror of instruments and the unknown. Above the chair where Mrs. Condon now sat there was a circle in the ceiling like the base of a chandelier and hanging down from it on twisted green wires were a great number of the strangest things imaginable: they were as thick as her wrist, but round, longer and hollow, white china inside and covered with brown wrapping. The wires of each, she discovered, led over a little wheel and down again to a swinging clock-like weight. In addition to this there were strange depressing handles on the wall by a dial with a jiggling needle and clearly marked numbers. The skill of the girl who had washed her mother's hair, however, was slight compared with M. Joseph's dexterity. The comb flashed in his white narrow hands; in no time at all every knot was urged out into a shining smoothness. "Just the front?" he inquired. Not waiting for Mrs. Condon's reply, he detached a strand from the mass over her brow, impaled it on a hairpin, while he picked up what might have been a thick steel knitting-needle with one end fastened in the middle of a silver quarter. The latter, it developed, had a hole in it, through which he drew the strand of hair, and then wrapped it with an angry tightness about the long projection. At this exact moment a new girl, but tired and moist, appeared, took a hank of white threads from a dressing-table, and tied that separate lock firmly. This, Linda counted, was repeated fifteen times; and when it was accomplished she was unable to repress a nervous laughter. Really, her mother looked too queer for words: the long rigid projections stood out all over her head like--like a huge pincushion; no, it was a porcupine. Mrs. Condon smiled in uncertain recognition of her daughter's mirth. Then Linda's attention followed M. Joseph to a table against a partition, where he secured a white cotton strip from a film of them soaking in a shallow tray, took up some white powder on the blade of a dessert knife and transferred it to the strip. This he wrapped and wrapped about the hair fastened on a spindle, tied it in turn, and dragged down one of the brown objects on wires, which, to Linda's great astonishment, fitted precisely over the cotton-bound hair. Again, fifteen times, M. Joseph did this, fastening each connection with the turn of a screw. When so much was accomplished her mother's hair, it seemed, had grown fast to the ceiling in a tangle of green ends. It was the most terrifying spectacle Linda had ever witnessed. Obscure thoughts of torture, of criminals executed by electricity, froze her in a set apprehension. The hair-dresser stepped over to the dials on the wall, and, with a sharp comprehensive glance at his apparatus, moved a handle as far as it would go. Nothing immediately happened, and Linda gave a relaxing sigh of relief. M. Joseph, however, became full of a painful attention. X He brought into view an unsuspected tube, with a cone of paper at its end, and bent over her mother, directing a stream of cold air against her head. "How do you feel?" he asked, with, Linda noticed, a startling loss of his first accent. Mrs. Condon so far felt well enough. Then, before Linda's startled gaze, every single one of the fifteen imprisoning tubes began to steam with an extraordinary vigor; not only did they steam, like teapots, but drops of water formed and slowly slid over her mother's face. If the process appeared weird at the beginning, now it was utterly fantastic. The little white vapor spurts played about Mrs. Condon's dripping countenance; they increased rather than diminished; actually it resembled a wrecked locomotive she had once seen. "How are you?" M. Joseph demanded nervously. "Is it hot anywhere?" With a sudden gesture she replied in a shaking voice, "Here." Instantly he was holding the paper cone with its cold air against her scalp, and the heat was subdued. He glanced nervously at his watch, and Mrs. Condon managed to ask, "How long?" "Twenty minutes." Dangerous as the whole proceeding seemed nothing really happened, and Linda's fears gradually faded into a mere curiosity and interest. A curtain hung across the door to the rest of the establishment, but it had been brushed partly aside; and she could see, in the compartment they had vacated, another man bending with waving irons over the liberated mass of a woman's hair. He was very much like M. Joseph, but he was younger and had only a dark scrap of mustache. As he caught up the hair with a quick double twist he leaned very close to the woman's face, whispering with an expression that never changed, an expression like that of the wax heads in the show-case. He bent so low that Linda was certain their cheeks had touched. She pondered at length over this, gazing now at the man beyond and now at M. Joseph flitting with the cold-air tube about her mother; wondering if, when she grew older, she would like a hair-dresser's cheek against hers. Linda decided not. The idea didn't shock her, the woman in the other space plainly liked it; still she decided she wouldn't. A different kind of man, she told herself, would be nicer. Her thoughts were interrupted by a sharp, unpleasant odor--the odor of scorched hair; and she was absolutely rigid with horror at an agonized cry from her mother. "It's burning me terribly," the latter cried. "Oh, I can't stand it. Stop! Stop!" M. Joseph, as white as plaster, rushed to the wall and reversed the handle, and Mrs. Condon started from the chair, her face now streaming with actual tears; but before she could escape the man threw himself on her shoulders. "You mustn't move," he whispered desperately, "you'll tear your hair out. I tell you no harm's been done. Everything is all right. Please, please don't cry like that. It will ruin my business. There are others in the establishment. Stop!" he shook her viciously. Linda had risen, terrorized; and Mrs. Condon, with waving plucking hands, was sobbing an appeal to be released. "My head, my head," she repeated. "I assure you"--the man motioned to a pallid girl to hold her in the chair. With a towel to protect his hand he undid a screw, lifted off the cap and untwisted the cotton from a bound lock of hair; releasing it, in turn, from the spindle it fell forward in a complete corkscrew over Mrs. Condon's face. "Do you see!" he demanded. "Perfect. I give you my word they'll all be like that. The cursed heat ran up on me," he added in a swift aside to his assistant. "Has Mrs. Bellows gone? Who's still in the place? Here, loose that binding ... thank God, that one is all right, too." Together they unfastened most of the connections, and a growing fringe of long remarkable curls marked Mrs. Condon's pain-drawn and dabbled face. Linda sobbed uncontrollably; but perhaps, after all, nothing frightful had happened. Her poor mother! Then fear again tightened about her heart at the perturbed expression that overtook the hair-dresser. He was trying in vain to remove one of the caps. She caught enigmatic words--"the borax, crystallized ... solid. It would take a plumber ... have to go." The connection was immovable. Even in her suffering Mrs. Condon implored M. Joseph to save her hair. Nothing, however, could be done; he admitted it with pale lips. The thing might be chiseled off; in the end he tried to force a release and the strand, with a renewal of Mrs. Condon's agony--now, in the interest of her appearance, heroically withstood--snapped short in the container. Rapidly recovering her vigor, she launched on a tirade against M. Joseph and his permanent waving establishment--Linda had never before heard her mother talk in such a loud brutal manner, nor use such heated unpleasant words, and the girl was flooded with a wretched shame. Still another lock, it was revealed, had been ruined, and crumbled to mere dust in its owner's fingers. "The law will provide for you," she promised. "Your hair was dyed," the proprietor returned vindictively. "The girl who washed it will testify. Every one is warned against the permanent if their hair has been colored. So it was at your own risk." "My head's never been touched with dye," Mrs. Condon shrilly answered. "You lying little ape. And well does that young woman know it. She complimented me herself on a true blonde." The girl had, too, right before Linda. "You ought to be thrashed out of the city." "Your money will be given back to you," M. Joseph told her. Outside they found a taxi, and sped back to their hotel. Above, Mrs. Condon removed her hat; and, before the uncompromising mirror, studied her wrecked hair--a frizzled vacancy was directly over her left brow--and haggard face. When she finally turned to Linda, her manner, her words, were solemn. "I'm middle-aged," she said. A dreary silence enveloped them sitting in the dark reception-room while Mrs. Condon restlessly shredded unlighted cigarettes on the floor. She had made no effort to repair the damages to her appearance, and when the telephone bell sharply sounded, she reached out in a slovenly negligence of manner. Linda could hear a blurred articulation and her mother answering listlessly. The latter at last said: "Very well, at seven then; you'll stop for us." She hung up the receiver, stared blankly at Linda, and then went off into a harsh mirth. "Oh, my God!" she cried; "the old ladies' home!" XI With her mother away on a wedding-trip with Mr. Moses Feldt, Linda was suddenly projected into the companionship of his two daughters. One, as he had said, was light, but a different fairness from Mrs. Condon's--richly thick, like honey; while Judith, the elder, who must have been twenty, was dark in skin, in everything but her eyes, which were a contrasting ashen-violet. She spoke at once of Linda's flawless whiteness: "A magnolia," she said, in a deliberate dark voice; "you are quite a gorgeous child. Do you mind my saying that your clothes are rather quaint? They aren't inevitable, and yours ought to be that." They were at lunch in the Feldt dining-room, an interior of heavy ornately carved black wood, panels of Chinese embroidery in imperial yellow, and a neutral mauve carpet. The effect, with glittering iridescent pyramids of glass, massive frosted repouss silver, burnished gold-plate and a wide table decoration of orchids and fern, was tropical and intense. It was evident to Linda that the Feldts were very rich indeed. The entire apartment resembled the dining-room, while the building itself filled a whole city block, with a garden and fountains like an elaborate public square. Linda, however, wasn't particularly impressed by such show; she saw that Judith and Pansy had expected that of her; but she was determined not to exhibit a surprise that would imply any changes in her mother's and her condition. In addition, Linda calmly took such surroundings for granted. Her primary conception of possible existence was elegance; its necessity had so entered into her being that it

awake

How many times the word 'awake' appears in the text?

you with that chauffeur we have had so much. I positively forbid your leaving the hotel else. It's a comfort after all, that you are serious. Kiss mama--" However, she descended with her mother in the elevator; there was a more public caress; and the captain in the Chinese dining-room placed Linda at a small table against the wall. There she had clams--she adored iced clams--creamed shrimps and oysters with potatoes _bordure_, alligator-pear salad and a beautiful charlotte cream with black walnuts. After this she sedately instructed the captain what to sign on the back of the dinner check--Linda Condon, room five hundred and seven--placed thirty-five cents beside the finger-bowl for the waiter, and made her way out to the news stand and the talkative girl who had it in charge. Exhausting the possibilities of gossip, and deciding not to go out to the theatre--in spite of the news girl's exciting description of a play called "The New Sin"--she was walking irresolutely through the high gilded and marble assemblage space when, unfortunately, she was captured by Mr. Moses Feldt. VII He led her to a high-backed lounge against the wall, where, seated on its extreme edge, he gazed silently at her with an expression of sentimental concern. Mr. Moses Feldt was a short round man, bald but for a fluffy rim of pale hair, and with the palest imaginable eyes in a countenance perpetually flushed by the physical necessity of accommodating his rotundity to awkward edges and conditions. As usual he was dressed with the nicest care--a band of white linen laid in the opening of his waistcoat, his scarf ornamented by a pear-shaped pearl on a diamond finished stem; his cloth-topped varnished black shoes glistened, while his short fat fingers clasped a prodigious unlighted cigar. At last, in a tone exactly suited to his gaze, he exclaimed: "So that naughty mama has gone out again and deserted Moses and her little Linda!" In what way her mother had deserted Mr. Feldt she failed to understand. Of course he wanted to marry them--the comprehensive phrase was his own--but that didn't include him in whatever they did. Principally it made a joke for their private entertainment. Mrs. Condon would mimic his eager manner, "Stella, let me take you both home where you'll have the best in the land," And, "Ladies like you ought to have a loving protection." Linda would laugh in her cool bell-like manner, and her mother add a satirical comment on the chance any Moses Feldt had of marrying her. Linda at once found him ridiculous and a being who forced a slighting warmth of liking. His appearance was preposterous, the ready emotion often too foolish for words; but underneath there was a--a goodness, a mysterious quality that stirred her heart to recognition. Certain rare things in life and experience affected her like that memory of an old happiness. She could never say what they might be, they came at the oddest times and by the most extraordinary means; but at their occurrence she would thrill for a moment as if in response to a sound of music. It was, for example, absurd that Mr. Moses Feldt, who was a Jew, should make her feel like that, but he did. And all the while that she was disagreeable to him, or mocking him behind his back, she was as uncomfortable and "horrid" as possible. While this fact, of course, only served to make her horrider still. At present she adopted the manner of a patience that nothing could quite exhaust; she was polite and formal, relentlessly correct in position. Mr. Moses Feldt, the cigar in his grasp, pressed a hand to the probable region of his heart. "You don't know how I think of you," he protested, tears in his eyes; "just the idea of you exposed to anything at all in hotels keeps me awake nights. Now it's a drunk, or a fresh feller on the elevator, or--" "It's nice of you," Linda said, "but you needn't worry. No one would dare to bother us. No one ever has." "You wouldn't know it if they did," he replied despondently, "at your age. And then your mother is so trustful and pleasant. Take those parties where she is so much--roof frolics and cocoanut groves and submarine caf s; they don't come to any good. Rowdy." Linda studied him coldly; if he criticized them further she would leave. He mopped a shining brow with a large colorful silk handkerchief. "It throws me into a sweat," he admitted. "Really, Mr. Feldt, you mustn't bother," she told him in one of her few impulses of friendliness. "You see, we are very experienced." He nodded without visible happiness at this truth. "I'm a jackass!" he cried. "Judith tells me that all the time. If you could only see my daughters," he continued with a new vigor; "such lovely girls as they are. One dark like you and the other fair as a daisy. Judith and Pansy. And my home that darling mama made before she died." The handkerchief was again in evidence. "Women and girls are funny. I can't get you there and not for nothing will Judith make a step. It may be pride but it seems to me such nonsense. I guess I'm old-fashioned and love's old-fashioned. Homes have gone out of style with the rest. It's all these restaurants and roofs now, yes, and studios. I tell the girls to stay away from them and from artists and so on. I don't encourage them at the apartment--a big lump of a feller with platinum bracelets on his wrists. What kind of a man would that be! I'd like to know who'd buy goods from him. "Sometimes, I'm sorry I got a lot of money, but it made mama happy. When she laid there at the last sick and couldn't live, I said, 'Oh, if you only won't leave me I'll give you gold to eat.'" He was so moved, his face so red, that Linda grew acutely embarrassed. People were looking at them. She rose stiffly but, in spite of her effort to escape him, he caught both her hands in his: "You say I'm an old idiot like Judith," he begged. This Linda declined to do. And, "Ask your mother if you won't come to dinner with the girls and me, cozy and at home--just once." "I'm afraid it will do no good," she admitted; "but I'll try." She realized that he was about to kiss her and moved quickly back. "I am almost afraid of you," he told her; "you're so distant and elegant. Judith and Pansy would get on with you first rate. I'll telephone tomorrow, in the afternoon. If the last flowers I sent you came I never heard of it." She thanked him appropriately for the roses and stood, erect and impersonal, as a man in the hotel livery helped him into a coat. Mr. Moses Feldt waved the still unlighted cigar at her and disappeared through the rotating door to the street. She gave a half-affected sigh of relief. Couldn't he see that her mother would never marry him. At the same time the strange thrill touched her; the sense of his absurdity vanished and she no longer remembered him perched like a painted rubber ball on the edge of the lounge. In the somber red plush and varnished wood of the reception-room of their suite he seemed again charming. Perhaps it was because he, too, adored her mother. That wasn't the reason. The familiar rare joy lingered. It seemed now as though she were to capture and understand it ... there was the vibration of music; and then, as always, she felt at once sad and brave. But, in spite of her old effort to the contrary, the feeling died away. Some day it would be clear to her; in the meanwhile Mr. Moses Feldt became once more only ridiculous. VIII In the morning she was dressed and had returned from breakfast before her mother stirred. The latter moved sharply, brought an arm up over her head, and swore. It was a long while before she got up or spoke again, and Linda never remembered her in a worse temper. When, finally, she came into the room where the breakfast-tray was laid, Linda was inexpressibly shocked--all that her mother had dreaded about her appearance had come disastrously true. Her face was hung with shadows like smudges of dirt and her eyes were netted with lines. Examining the dishes with distaste she told Linda that positively she could slap her for letting them bring up orange-juice. "How often must I explain to you that it freezes my fingers." Linda replied that she had repeated this in the breakfast-room and perhaps they had the wrong order. Neither her mother nor she said anything more until Mrs. Condon had finished her coffee and started a second cigarette. Then Linda related something of Mr. Moses Feldt's call on the evening before. "He cried right into his handkerchief," she said, "until I thought I should sink." Mrs. Condon eyed her daughter speculatively. "Now if you were only four years older," she declared, "it would be a good thing. He was simply born to be a husband." Horror filled Linda at the other's implication. "Yes," the elder insisted; "you couldn't do better; except, perhaps, for those girls of his. But then you'd have no trouble making them miserable. It's time to talk to you seriously about marriage." The smoke from the cigarette eddied in a gray veil across her unrefreshed face. "You're old for your age, Linda; your life has made you that; and, like I said last night, it is rather better than not. Well, for you marriage, and soon as possible, is the proper thing. Mind, I have never said a word against it; only what suits one doesn't suit another. Where it wouldn't be anything more than an old ladies' home to me you need it early and plenty. You are too intense. That doesn't go in the world. Men don't like it. They want their pleasure and comfort without strings tied to them; the intensity has to be theirs. "What you must get through your head is that love--whatever it is--and marriage are two different things, and if you are going to be successful they must be kept separate. You can't do anything with a man if you love him; but then you can't do anything with him if he doesn't love you. That's the whole thing in a breath. I am not crying down love, either; only I don't want you to think it is the bread and butter while it's nothing more than those little sweet cakes at Henri's. "Now any girl who marries a poor man or for love--they are the same thing--is a fool and deserves what she gets. No one thanks her for it, him least of all; because if she does love him it is only to make them miserable. She's always at him--where did he go and why did he stay so long, and no matter what he says she knows it's a lie. More times than not she's right, too. I can't tell you too often--men don't want to be loved, they like to be flattered and flattered and then flattered again. You'd never believe how childish they are. "Make them think they're it and don't give too much--that's the secret. Above all else don't be easy on them. Don't say 'all right, darling, next spring will do as well for a new suit.' Get it then and let him worry about paying for it, if worry he must. If they don't give it to you some one smarter will wear it. But I started to talk about getting married. "Choose a Moses Feldt, who will always be grateful to you, and keep him at it. They are so easy to land it's a kind of shame, too. Perhaps I am telling you this too soon, but I don't want any mistakes. Well, pick out your Moses--and mama will help you there--and suddenly, at the right time, show him that you can be affectionate; surprise him with it and you so staid and particular generally. Don't overdo it, promise more than you ever give-- "In the closet, dearie, just a little. That's a good girl. Mama's so dry." She rose, the silver cup of the flask in her hand, and moved inevitably to the mirror. "My hair's a sight," she remarked; "all strings. I believe I'll get a permanent wave. They say it lasts for six months or more, till the ends grow out. Makes a lot of it, too, and holds the front together. If you've ever had dye in your hair, I hear, it will break off like grass." Linda pondered over what she had been told of love and marriage; on the whole the exposition had been unsatisfactory. The latter she was able to grasp, but her mother had admitted an inability exactly to fix love. One fact, apparently, was clear--it was a nuisance and a hindrance to happiness, or rather to success. Love upset things. Still she had the strongest objection possible to living forever with a man like Mr. Moses Feldt. At once all that she had hoped for from life grew flat and uninteresting. She had no doubt of her mother's correctness and wisdom; the world was like that; she must make the best of it. There was some telephoning, inquiries, and she heard the elder make an appointment with a hair-dresser for three that afternoon. She wondered what it would be like to have your hair permanently waved and hoped that she would see it done. This, too, she realized, was a part of the necessity of always considering men--they liked your hair to be wavy. Hers was as straight and stupid as possible. She, in turn, examined herself in a mirror: the black bang fell exactly to her eyebrows, her face had no color other than the carnation of her lips and her deep blue eyes. She moved away and critically studied her figure; inches and inches too thin, she decided. Undoubtedly her mother was right, and she must marry at the first opportunity--if she could find a man, a rich man, who was willing. Her thoughts returned vaguely to the mystery, the nuisance, of love. Surely she had heard something before, immensely important, about it, and totally different from all her mother had said. Her mind was filled with the fantastic image of a forest, of dangers, and a fat china figure with curled plumes, a nodding head, that brushed her with fear and disgust. A shuddering panic took possession of her, flashes burned before her eyes, and she ran gasping to the perfumed soft reassurances of her mother. IX In a recurrence of her surprising concern of the day before Mrs. Condon declined to leave her dearest Linda alone; and, their arms caught together in a surging affection, they walked down Fifth Avenue toward the hairdresser's. There was a diffused gray sparkle of sunlight--it was early for the throngs--through which they passed rapidly to the accompaniment of a rapid eager chatter. Linda wore a deep smooth camel's hair cape, over which her intense black hair poured like ink, and her face was shaded by a dipping green velvet hat. Her mother, in one of the tightly cut suits she affected, had never been more like a perfect companion. They saw, in the window of a store for men, a set of violent purple wool underwear, and barely escaped hysterics at the thought of Mr. Moses Feldt in such a garb. They giggled idiotically at the spectacle of a countryman fearfully making the sharp descent from the top of a lurching omnibus. And then, when they had reached the place of Mrs. Condon's appointment, stopped at the show of elaborately waved hair on wax heads and chose which, probably, would resemble the elder and which, in a very short while now, Linda. There was an impressive interior, furnished in gray panels and silvery wood; and the young woman at the desk was more surprisingly waved than anything they had yet seen. M. Joseph would be ready almost immediately; and in the meanwhile Mrs. Condon could lay aside her things in preparation for the hair to be washed. She did this while Linda followed every movement with the deepest interest. At the back of the long room was a succession of small alcoves, each with an important-looking chair and mirror and shelves, a white basin, water-taps and rubber tubes. Settled, in comfort, Mrs. Condon's hair was spread out in a bright metal tray fastened to the back of the chair, and the attendant, a moist tired girl in a careless waist, sprayed the short thick gold-colored strands. "My," she observed, "what some wouldn't give for your shade! Never been touched, I can see, either. A lady comes in with real Titian, but yours is more select. It positively is Lillian Russell." While she talked her hands sped with incredible rapidity and skill. "The gentlemen don't notice it; of course not; oh, no! There was a girl here, a true blonde, but she didn't stay long--her own car, yes, indeed. Married her right out of the establishment. There wasn't any nonsense to her. "So this is your little girl! I'd never have believed it. Not that she hasn't a great deal of style, a great deal--almost, you might say, like an Egyptian. In the movies last night; her all over. It's a type that will need studying. Bertha Kalich. But for me--" Already, Linda saw, this part of the operation was done. The girl wheeled into position a case that had a fan and ring of blue flickering flames, and a cupped tube through which hot air was poured over her mother's head. M. Joseph strutted in, a small carefully dressed man with a diminutive pointed gray beard and formal curled mustache. He spoke with what Linda supposed was a French accent, and his manners, at least to them, were beautiful. But because the girl had not put out the blue flames quickly enough he turned to her with a voice of quivering rage. It was so unexpected, in the middle of his bowing and smooth assurances, that Linda was startled, and had to think about him all over. The result of this was a surprising dislike; she hated, even, to see him touch her mother, as he unnecessarily did in directing them into the enclosure for the permanent wave. The place itself filled her with the faint horror of instruments and the unknown. Above the chair where Mrs. Condon now sat there was a circle in the ceiling like the base of a chandelier and hanging down from it on twisted green wires were a great number of the strangest things imaginable: they were as thick as her wrist, but round, longer and hollow, white china inside and covered with brown wrapping. The wires of each, she discovered, led over a little wheel and down again to a swinging clock-like weight. In addition to this there were strange depressing handles on the wall by a dial with a jiggling needle and clearly marked numbers. The skill of the girl who had washed her mother's hair, however, was slight compared with M. Joseph's dexterity. The comb flashed in his white narrow hands; in no time at all every knot was urged out into a shining smoothness. "Just the front?" he inquired. Not waiting for Mrs. Condon's reply, he detached a strand from the mass over her brow, impaled it on a hairpin, while he picked up what might have been a thick steel knitting-needle with one end fastened in the middle of a silver quarter. The latter, it developed, had a hole in it, through which he drew the strand of hair, and then wrapped it with an angry tightness about the long projection. At this exact moment a new girl, but tired and moist, appeared, took a hank of white threads from a dressing-table, and tied that separate lock firmly. This, Linda counted, was repeated fifteen times; and when it was accomplished she was unable to repress a nervous laughter. Really, her mother looked too queer for words: the long rigid projections stood out all over her head like--like a huge pincushion; no, it was a porcupine. Mrs. Condon smiled in uncertain recognition of her daughter's mirth. Then Linda's attention followed M. Joseph to a table against a partition, where he secured a white cotton strip from a film of them soaking in a shallow tray, took up some white powder on the blade of a dessert knife and transferred it to the strip. This he wrapped and wrapped about the hair fastened on a spindle, tied it in turn, and dragged down one of the brown objects on wires, which, to Linda's great astonishment, fitted precisely over the cotton-bound hair. Again, fifteen times, M. Joseph did this, fastening each connection with the turn of a screw. When so much was accomplished her mother's hair, it seemed, had grown fast to the ceiling in a tangle of green ends. It was the most terrifying spectacle Linda had ever witnessed. Obscure thoughts of torture, of criminals executed by electricity, froze her in a set apprehension. The hair-dresser stepped over to the dials on the wall, and, with a sharp comprehensive glance at his apparatus, moved a handle as far as it would go. Nothing immediately happened, and Linda gave a relaxing sigh of relief. M. Joseph, however, became full of a painful attention. X He brought into view an unsuspected tube, with a cone of paper at its end, and bent over her mother, directing a stream of cold air against her head. "How do you feel?" he asked, with, Linda noticed, a startling loss of his first accent. Mrs. Condon so far felt well enough. Then, before Linda's startled gaze, every single one of the fifteen imprisoning tubes began to steam with an extraordinary vigor; not only did they steam, like teapots, but drops of water formed and slowly slid over her mother's face. If the process appeared weird at the beginning, now it was utterly fantastic. The little white vapor spurts played about Mrs. Condon's dripping countenance; they increased rather than diminished; actually it resembled a wrecked locomotive she had once seen. "How are you?" M. Joseph demanded nervously. "Is it hot anywhere?" With a sudden gesture she replied in a shaking voice, "Here." Instantly he was holding the paper cone with its cold air against her scalp, and the heat was subdued. He glanced nervously at his watch, and Mrs. Condon managed to ask, "How long?" "Twenty minutes." Dangerous as the whole proceeding seemed nothing really happened, and Linda's fears gradually faded into a mere curiosity and interest. A curtain hung across the door to the rest of the establishment, but it had been brushed partly aside; and she could see, in the compartment they had vacated, another man bending with waving irons over the liberated mass of a woman's hair. He was very much like M. Joseph, but he was younger and had only a dark scrap of mustache. As he caught up the hair with a quick double twist he leaned very close to the woman's face, whispering with an expression that never changed, an expression like that of the wax heads in the show-case. He bent so low that Linda was certain their cheeks had touched. She pondered at length over this, gazing now at the man beyond and now at M. Joseph flitting with the cold-air tube about her mother; wondering if, when she grew older, she would like a hair-dresser's cheek against hers. Linda decided not. The idea didn't shock her, the woman in the other space plainly liked it; still she decided she wouldn't. A different kind of man, she told herself, would be nicer. Her thoughts were interrupted by a sharp, unpleasant odor--the odor of scorched hair; and she was absolutely rigid with horror at an agonized cry from her mother. "It's burning me terribly," the latter cried. "Oh, I can't stand it. Stop! Stop!" M. Joseph, as white as plaster, rushed to the wall and reversed the handle, and Mrs. Condon started from the chair, her face now streaming with actual tears; but before she could escape the man threw himself on her shoulders. "You mustn't move," he whispered desperately, "you'll tear your hair out. I tell you no harm's been done. Everything is all right. Please, please don't cry like that. It will ruin my business. There are others in the establishment. Stop!" he shook her viciously. Linda had risen, terrorized; and Mrs. Condon, with waving plucking hands, was sobbing an appeal to be released. "My head, my head," she repeated. "I assure you"--the man motioned to a pallid girl to hold her in the chair. With a towel to protect his hand he undid a screw, lifted off the cap and untwisted the cotton from a bound lock of hair; releasing it, in turn, from the spindle it fell forward in a complete corkscrew over Mrs. Condon's face. "Do you see!" he demanded. "Perfect. I give you my word they'll all be like that. The cursed heat ran up on me," he added in a swift aside to his assistant. "Has Mrs. Bellows gone? Who's still in the place? Here, loose that binding ... thank God, that one is all right, too." Together they unfastened most of the connections, and a growing fringe of long remarkable curls marked Mrs. Condon's pain-drawn and dabbled face. Linda sobbed uncontrollably; but perhaps, after all, nothing frightful had happened. Her poor mother! Then fear again tightened about her heart at the perturbed expression that overtook the hair-dresser. He was trying in vain to remove one of the caps. She caught enigmatic words--"the borax, crystallized ... solid. It would take a plumber ... have to go." The connection was immovable. Even in her suffering Mrs. Condon implored M. Joseph to save her hair. Nothing, however, could be done; he admitted it with pale lips. The thing might be chiseled off; in the end he tried to force a release and the strand, with a renewal of Mrs. Condon's agony--now, in the interest of her appearance, heroically withstood--snapped short in the container. Rapidly recovering her vigor, she launched on a tirade against M. Joseph and his permanent waving establishment--Linda had never before heard her mother talk in such a loud brutal manner, nor use such heated unpleasant words, and the girl was flooded with a wretched shame. Still another lock, it was revealed, had been ruined, and crumbled to mere dust in its owner's fingers. "The law will provide for you," she promised. "Your hair was dyed," the proprietor returned vindictively. "The girl who washed it will testify. Every one is warned against the permanent if their hair has been colored. So it was at your own risk." "My head's never been touched with dye," Mrs. Condon shrilly answered. "You lying little ape. And well does that young woman know it. She complimented me herself on a true blonde." The girl had, too, right before Linda. "You ought to be thrashed out of the city." "Your money will be given back to you," M. Joseph told her. Outside they found a taxi, and sped back to their hotel. Above, Mrs. Condon removed her hat; and, before the uncompromising mirror, studied her wrecked hair--a frizzled vacancy was directly over her left brow--and haggard face. When she finally turned to Linda, her manner, her words, were solemn. "I'm middle-aged," she said. A dreary silence enveloped them sitting in the dark reception-room while Mrs. Condon restlessly shredded unlighted cigarettes on the floor. She had made no effort to repair the damages to her appearance, and when the telephone bell sharply sounded, she reached out in a slovenly negligence of manner. Linda could hear a blurred articulation and her mother answering listlessly. The latter at last said: "Very well, at seven then; you'll stop for us." She hung up the receiver, stared blankly at Linda, and then went off into a harsh mirth. "Oh, my God!" she cried; "the old ladies' home!" XI With her mother away on a wedding-trip with Mr. Moses Feldt, Linda was suddenly projected into the companionship of his two daughters. One, as he had said, was light, but a different fairness from Mrs. Condon's--richly thick, like honey; while Judith, the elder, who must have been twenty, was dark in skin, in everything but her eyes, which were a contrasting ashen-violet. She spoke at once of Linda's flawless whiteness: "A magnolia," she said, in a deliberate dark voice; "you are quite a gorgeous child. Do you mind my saying that your clothes are rather quaint? They aren't inevitable, and yours ought to be that." They were at lunch in the Feldt dining-room, an interior of heavy ornately carved black wood, panels of Chinese embroidery in imperial yellow, and a neutral mauve carpet. The effect, with glittering iridescent pyramids of glass, massive frosted repouss silver, burnished gold-plate and a wide table decoration of orchids and fern, was tropical and intense. It was evident to Linda that the Feldts were very rich indeed. The entire apartment resembled the dining-room, while the building itself filled a whole city block, with a garden and fountains like an elaborate public square. Linda, however, wasn't particularly impressed by such show; she saw that Judith and Pansy had expected that of her; but she was determined not to exhibit a surprise that would imply any changes in her mother's and her condition. In addition, Linda calmly took such surroundings for granted. Her primary conception of possible existence was elegance; its necessity had so entered into her being that it

impulses

How many times the word 'impulses' appears in the text?

you with that chauffeur we have had so much. I positively forbid your leaving the hotel else. It's a comfort after all, that you are serious. Kiss mama--" However, she descended with her mother in the elevator; there was a more public caress; and the captain in the Chinese dining-room placed Linda at a small table against the wall. There she had clams--she adored iced clams--creamed shrimps and oysters with potatoes _bordure_, alligator-pear salad and a beautiful charlotte cream with black walnuts. After this she sedately instructed the captain what to sign on the back of the dinner check--Linda Condon, room five hundred and seven--placed thirty-five cents beside the finger-bowl for the waiter, and made her way out to the news stand and the talkative girl who had it in charge. Exhausting the possibilities of gossip, and deciding not to go out to the theatre--in spite of the news girl's exciting description of a play called "The New Sin"--she was walking irresolutely through the high gilded and marble assemblage space when, unfortunately, she was captured by Mr. Moses Feldt. VII He led her to a high-backed lounge against the wall, where, seated on its extreme edge, he gazed silently at her with an expression of sentimental concern. Mr. Moses Feldt was a short round man, bald but for a fluffy rim of pale hair, and with the palest imaginable eyes in a countenance perpetually flushed by the physical necessity of accommodating his rotundity to awkward edges and conditions. As usual he was dressed with the nicest care--a band of white linen laid in the opening of his waistcoat, his scarf ornamented by a pear-shaped pearl on a diamond finished stem; his cloth-topped varnished black shoes glistened, while his short fat fingers clasped a prodigious unlighted cigar. At last, in a tone exactly suited to his gaze, he exclaimed: "So that naughty mama has gone out again and deserted Moses and her little Linda!" In what way her mother had deserted Mr. Feldt she failed to understand. Of course he wanted to marry them--the comprehensive phrase was his own--but that didn't include him in whatever they did. Principally it made a joke for their private entertainment. Mrs. Condon would mimic his eager manner, "Stella, let me take you both home where you'll have the best in the land," And, "Ladies like you ought to have a loving protection." Linda would laugh in her cool bell-like manner, and her mother add a satirical comment on the chance any Moses Feldt had of marrying her. Linda at once found him ridiculous and a being who forced a slighting warmth of liking. His appearance was preposterous, the ready emotion often too foolish for words; but underneath there was a--a goodness, a mysterious quality that stirred her heart to recognition. Certain rare things in life and experience affected her like that memory of an old happiness. She could never say what they might be, they came at the oddest times and by the most extraordinary means; but at their occurrence she would thrill for a moment as if in response to a sound of music. It was, for example, absurd that Mr. Moses Feldt, who was a Jew, should make her feel like that, but he did. And all the while that she was disagreeable to him, or mocking him behind his back, she was as uncomfortable and "horrid" as possible. While this fact, of course, only served to make her horrider still. At present she adopted the manner of a patience that nothing could quite exhaust; she was polite and formal, relentlessly correct in position. Mr. Moses Feldt, the cigar in his grasp, pressed a hand to the probable region of his heart. "You don't know how I think of you," he protested, tears in his eyes; "just the idea of you exposed to anything at all in hotels keeps me awake nights. Now it's a drunk, or a fresh feller on the elevator, or--" "It's nice of you," Linda said, "but you needn't worry. No one would dare to bother us. No one ever has." "You wouldn't know it if they did," he replied despondently, "at your age. And then your mother is so trustful and pleasant. Take those parties where she is so much--roof frolics and cocoanut groves and submarine caf s; they don't come to any good. Rowdy." Linda studied him coldly; if he criticized them further she would leave. He mopped a shining brow with a large colorful silk handkerchief. "It throws me into a sweat," he admitted. "Really, Mr. Feldt, you mustn't bother," she told him in one of her few impulses of friendliness. "You see, we are very experienced." He nodded without visible happiness at this truth. "I'm a jackass!" he cried. "Judith tells me that all the time. If you could only see my daughters," he continued with a new vigor; "such lovely girls as they are. One dark like you and the other fair as a daisy. Judith and Pansy. And my home that darling mama made before she died." The handkerchief was again in evidence. "Women and girls are funny. I can't get you there and not for nothing will Judith make a step. It may be pride but it seems to me such nonsense. I guess I'm old-fashioned and love's old-fashioned. Homes have gone out of style with the rest. It's all these restaurants and roofs now, yes, and studios. I tell the girls to stay away from them and from artists and so on. I don't encourage them at the apartment--a big lump of a feller with platinum bracelets on his wrists. What kind of a man would that be! I'd like to know who'd buy goods from him. "Sometimes, I'm sorry I got a lot of money, but it made mama happy. When she laid there at the last sick and couldn't live, I said, 'Oh, if you only won't leave me I'll give you gold to eat.'" He was so moved, his face so red, that Linda grew acutely embarrassed. People were looking at them. She rose stiffly but, in spite of her effort to escape him, he caught both her hands in his: "You say I'm an old idiot like Judith," he begged. This Linda declined to do. And, "Ask your mother if you won't come to dinner with the girls and me, cozy and at home--just once." "I'm afraid it will do no good," she admitted; "but I'll try." She realized that he was about to kiss her and moved quickly back. "I am almost afraid of you," he told her; "you're so distant and elegant. Judith and Pansy would get on with you first rate. I'll telephone tomorrow, in the afternoon. If the last flowers I sent you came I never heard of it." She thanked him appropriately for the roses and stood, erect and impersonal, as a man in the hotel livery helped him into a coat. Mr. Moses Feldt waved the still unlighted cigar at her and disappeared through the rotating door to the street. She gave a half-affected sigh of relief. Couldn't he see that her mother would never marry him. At the same time the strange thrill touched her; the sense of his absurdity vanished and she no longer remembered him perched like a painted rubber ball on the edge of the lounge. In the somber red plush and varnished wood of the reception-room of their suite he seemed again charming. Perhaps it was because he, too, adored her mother. That wasn't the reason. The familiar rare joy lingered. It seemed now as though she were to capture and understand it ... there was the vibration of music; and then, as always, she felt at once sad and brave. But, in spite of her old effort to the contrary, the feeling died away. Some day it would be clear to her; in the meanwhile Mr. Moses Feldt became once more only ridiculous. VIII In the morning she was dressed and had returned from breakfast before her mother stirred. The latter moved sharply, brought an arm up over her head, and swore. It was a long while before she got up or spoke again, and Linda never remembered her in a worse temper. When, finally, she came into the room where the breakfast-tray was laid, Linda was inexpressibly shocked--all that her mother had dreaded about her appearance had come disastrously true. Her face was hung with shadows like smudges of dirt and her eyes were netted with lines. Examining the dishes with distaste she told Linda that positively she could slap her for letting them bring up orange-juice. "How often must I explain to you that it freezes my fingers." Linda replied that she had repeated this in the breakfast-room and perhaps they had the wrong order. Neither her mother nor she said anything more until Mrs. Condon had finished her coffee and started a second cigarette. Then Linda related something of Mr. Moses Feldt's call on the evening before. "He cried right into his handkerchief," she said, "until I thought I should sink." Mrs. Condon eyed her daughter speculatively. "Now if you were only four years older," she declared, "it would be a good thing. He was simply born to be a husband." Horror filled Linda at the other's implication. "Yes," the elder insisted; "you couldn't do better; except, perhaps, for those girls of his. But then you'd have no trouble making them miserable. It's time to talk to you seriously about marriage." The smoke from the cigarette eddied in a gray veil across her unrefreshed face. "You're old for your age, Linda; your life has made you that; and, like I said last night, it is rather better than not. Well, for you marriage, and soon as possible, is the proper thing. Mind, I have never said a word against it; only what suits one doesn't suit another. Where it wouldn't be anything more than an old ladies' home to me you need it early and plenty. You are too intense. That doesn't go in the world. Men don't like it. They want their pleasure and comfort without strings tied to them; the intensity has to be theirs. "What you must get through your head is that love--whatever it is--and marriage are two different things, and if you are going to be successful they must be kept separate. You can't do anything with a man if you love him; but then you can't do anything with him if he doesn't love you. That's the whole thing in a breath. I am not crying down love, either; only I don't want you to think it is the bread and butter while it's nothing more than those little sweet cakes at Henri's. "Now any girl who marries a poor man or for love--they are the same thing--is a fool and deserves what she gets. No one thanks her for it, him least of all; because if she does love him it is only to make them miserable. She's always at him--where did he go and why did he stay so long, and no matter what he says she knows it's a lie. More times than not she's right, too. I can't tell you too often--men don't want to be loved, they like to be flattered and flattered and then flattered again. You'd never believe how childish they are. "Make them think they're it and don't give too much--that's the secret. Above all else don't be easy on them. Don't say 'all right, darling, next spring will do as well for a new suit.' Get it then and let him worry about paying for it, if worry he must. If they don't give it to you some one smarter will wear it. But I started to talk about getting married. "Choose a Moses Feldt, who will always be grateful to you, and keep him at it. They are so easy to land it's a kind of shame, too. Perhaps I am telling you this too soon, but I don't want any mistakes. Well, pick out your Moses--and mama will help you there--and suddenly, at the right time, show him that you can be affectionate; surprise him with it and you so staid and particular generally. Don't overdo it, promise more than you ever give-- "In the closet, dearie, just a little. That's a good girl. Mama's so dry." She rose, the silver cup of the flask in her hand, and moved inevitably to the mirror. "My hair's a sight," she remarked; "all strings. I believe I'll get a permanent wave. They say it lasts for six months or more, till the ends grow out. Makes a lot of it, too, and holds the front together. If you've ever had dye in your hair, I hear, it will break off like grass." Linda pondered over what she had been told of love and marriage; on the whole the exposition had been unsatisfactory. The latter she was able to grasp, but her mother had admitted an inability exactly to fix love. One fact, apparently, was clear--it was a nuisance and a hindrance to happiness, or rather to success. Love upset things. Still she had the strongest objection possible to living forever with a man like Mr. Moses Feldt. At once all that she had hoped for from life grew flat and uninteresting. She had no doubt of her mother's correctness and wisdom; the world was like that; she must make the best of it. There was some telephoning, inquiries, and she heard the elder make an appointment with a hair-dresser for three that afternoon. She wondered what it would be like to have your hair permanently waved and hoped that she would see it done. This, too, she realized, was a part of the necessity of always considering men--they liked your hair to be wavy. Hers was as straight and stupid as possible. She, in turn, examined herself in a mirror: the black bang fell exactly to her eyebrows, her face had no color other than the carnation of her lips and her deep blue eyes. She moved away and critically studied her figure; inches and inches too thin, she decided. Undoubtedly her mother was right, and she must marry at the first opportunity--if she could find a man, a rich man, who was willing. Her thoughts returned vaguely to the mystery, the nuisance, of love. Surely she had heard something before, immensely important, about it, and totally different from all her mother had said. Her mind was filled with the fantastic image of a forest, of dangers, and a fat china figure with curled plumes, a nodding head, that brushed her with fear and disgust. A shuddering panic took possession of her, flashes burned before her eyes, and she ran gasping to the perfumed soft reassurances of her mother. IX In a recurrence of her surprising concern of the day before Mrs. Condon declined to leave her dearest Linda alone; and, their arms caught together in a surging affection, they walked down Fifth Avenue toward the hairdresser's. There was a diffused gray sparkle of sunlight--it was early for the throngs--through which they passed rapidly to the accompaniment of a rapid eager chatter. Linda wore a deep smooth camel's hair cape, over which her intense black hair poured like ink, and her face was shaded by a dipping green velvet hat. Her mother, in one of the tightly cut suits she affected, had never been more like a perfect companion. They saw, in the window of a store for men, a set of violent purple wool underwear, and barely escaped hysterics at the thought of Mr. Moses Feldt in such a garb. They giggled idiotically at the spectacle of a countryman fearfully making the sharp descent from the top of a lurching omnibus. And then, when they had reached the place of Mrs. Condon's appointment, stopped at the show of elaborately waved hair on wax heads and chose which, probably, would resemble the elder and which, in a very short while now, Linda. There was an impressive interior, furnished in gray panels and silvery wood; and the young woman at the desk was more surprisingly waved than anything they had yet seen. M. Joseph would be ready almost immediately; and in the meanwhile Mrs. Condon could lay aside her things in preparation for the hair to be washed. She did this while Linda followed every movement with the deepest interest. At the back of the long room was a succession of small alcoves, each with an important-looking chair and mirror and shelves, a white basin, water-taps and rubber tubes. Settled, in comfort, Mrs. Condon's hair was spread out in a bright metal tray fastened to the back of the chair, and the attendant, a moist tired girl in a careless waist, sprayed the short thick gold-colored strands. "My," she observed, "what some wouldn't give for your shade! Never been touched, I can see, either. A lady comes in with real Titian, but yours is more select. It positively is Lillian Russell." While she talked her hands sped with incredible rapidity and skill. "The gentlemen don't notice it; of course not; oh, no! There was a girl here, a true blonde, but she didn't stay long--her own car, yes, indeed. Married her right out of the establishment. There wasn't any nonsense to her. "So this is your little girl! I'd never have believed it. Not that she hasn't a great deal of style, a great deal--almost, you might say, like an Egyptian. In the movies last night; her all over. It's a type that will need studying. Bertha Kalich. But for me--" Already, Linda saw, this part of the operation was done. The girl wheeled into position a case that had a fan and ring of blue flickering flames, and a cupped tube through which hot air was poured over her mother's head. M. Joseph strutted in, a small carefully dressed man with a diminutive pointed gray beard and formal curled mustache. He spoke with what Linda supposed was a French accent, and his manners, at least to them, were beautiful. But because the girl had not put out the blue flames quickly enough he turned to her with a voice of quivering rage. It was so unexpected, in the middle of his bowing and smooth assurances, that Linda was startled, and had to think about him all over. The result of this was a surprising dislike; she hated, even, to see him touch her mother, as he unnecessarily did in directing them into the enclosure for the permanent wave. The place itself filled her with the faint horror of instruments and the unknown. Above the chair where Mrs. Condon now sat there was a circle in the ceiling like the base of a chandelier and hanging down from it on twisted green wires were a great number of the strangest things imaginable: they were as thick as her wrist, but round, longer and hollow, white china inside and covered with brown wrapping. The wires of each, she discovered, led over a little wheel and down again to a swinging clock-like weight. In addition to this there were strange depressing handles on the wall by a dial with a jiggling needle and clearly marked numbers. The skill of the girl who had washed her mother's hair, however, was slight compared with M. Joseph's dexterity. The comb flashed in his white narrow hands; in no time at all every knot was urged out into a shining smoothness. "Just the front?" he inquired. Not waiting for Mrs. Condon's reply, he detached a strand from the mass over her brow, impaled it on a hairpin, while he picked up what might have been a thick steel knitting-needle with one end fastened in the middle of a silver quarter. The latter, it developed, had a hole in it, through which he drew the strand of hair, and then wrapped it with an angry tightness about the long projection. At this exact moment a new girl, but tired and moist, appeared, took a hank of white threads from a dressing-table, and tied that separate lock firmly. This, Linda counted, was repeated fifteen times; and when it was accomplished she was unable to repress a nervous laughter. Really, her mother looked too queer for words: the long rigid projections stood out all over her head like--like a huge pincushion; no, it was a porcupine. Mrs. Condon smiled in uncertain recognition of her daughter's mirth. Then Linda's attention followed M. Joseph to a table against a partition, where he secured a white cotton strip from a film of them soaking in a shallow tray, took up some white powder on the blade of a dessert knife and transferred it to the strip. This he wrapped and wrapped about the hair fastened on a spindle, tied it in turn, and dragged down one of the brown objects on wires, which, to Linda's great astonishment, fitted precisely over the cotton-bound hair. Again, fifteen times, M. Joseph did this, fastening each connection with the turn of a screw. When so much was accomplished her mother's hair, it seemed, had grown fast to the ceiling in a tangle of green ends. It was the most terrifying spectacle Linda had ever witnessed. Obscure thoughts of torture, of criminals executed by electricity, froze her in a set apprehension. The hair-dresser stepped over to the dials on the wall, and, with a sharp comprehensive glance at his apparatus, moved a handle as far as it would go. Nothing immediately happened, and Linda gave a relaxing sigh of relief. M. Joseph, however, became full of a painful attention. X He brought into view an unsuspected tube, with a cone of paper at its end, and bent over her mother, directing a stream of cold air against her head. "How do you feel?" he asked, with, Linda noticed, a startling loss of his first accent. Mrs. Condon so far felt well enough. Then, before Linda's startled gaze, every single one of the fifteen imprisoning tubes began to steam with an extraordinary vigor; not only did they steam, like teapots, but drops of water formed and slowly slid over her mother's face. If the process appeared weird at the beginning, now it was utterly fantastic. The little white vapor spurts played about Mrs. Condon's dripping countenance; they increased rather than diminished; actually it resembled a wrecked locomotive she had once seen. "How are you?" M. Joseph demanded nervously. "Is it hot anywhere?" With a sudden gesture she replied in a shaking voice, "Here." Instantly he was holding the paper cone with its cold air against her scalp, and the heat was subdued. He glanced nervously at his watch, and Mrs. Condon managed to ask, "How long?" "Twenty minutes." Dangerous as the whole proceeding seemed nothing really happened, and Linda's fears gradually faded into a mere curiosity and interest. A curtain hung across the door to the rest of the establishment, but it had been brushed partly aside; and she could see, in the compartment they had vacated, another man bending with waving irons over the liberated mass of a woman's hair. He was very much like M. Joseph, but he was younger and had only a dark scrap of mustache. As he caught up the hair with a quick double twist he leaned very close to the woman's face, whispering with an expression that never changed, an expression like that of the wax heads in the show-case. He bent so low that Linda was certain their cheeks had touched. She pondered at length over this, gazing now at the man beyond and now at M. Joseph flitting with the cold-air tube about her mother; wondering if, when she grew older, she would like a hair-dresser's cheek against hers. Linda decided not. The idea didn't shock her, the woman in the other space plainly liked it; still she decided she wouldn't. A different kind of man, she told herself, would be nicer. Her thoughts were interrupted by a sharp, unpleasant odor--the odor of scorched hair; and she was absolutely rigid with horror at an agonized cry from her mother. "It's burning me terribly," the latter cried. "Oh, I can't stand it. Stop! Stop!" M. Joseph, as white as plaster, rushed to the wall and reversed the handle, and Mrs. Condon started from the chair, her face now streaming with actual tears; but before she could escape the man threw himself on her shoulders. "You mustn't move," he whispered desperately, "you'll tear your hair out. I tell you no harm's been done. Everything is all right. Please, please don't cry like that. It will ruin my business. There are others in the establishment. Stop!" he shook her viciously. Linda had risen, terrorized; and Mrs. Condon, with waving plucking hands, was sobbing an appeal to be released. "My head, my head," she repeated. "I assure you"--the man motioned to a pallid girl to hold her in the chair. With a towel to protect his hand he undid a screw, lifted off the cap and untwisted the cotton from a bound lock of hair; releasing it, in turn, from the spindle it fell forward in a complete corkscrew over Mrs. Condon's face. "Do you see!" he demanded. "Perfect. I give you my word they'll all be like that. The cursed heat ran up on me," he added in a swift aside to his assistant. "Has Mrs. Bellows gone? Who's still in the place? Here, loose that binding ... thank God, that one is all right, too." Together they unfastened most of the connections, and a growing fringe of long remarkable curls marked Mrs. Condon's pain-drawn and dabbled face. Linda sobbed uncontrollably; but perhaps, after all, nothing frightful had happened. Her poor mother! Then fear again tightened about her heart at the perturbed expression that overtook the hair-dresser. He was trying in vain to remove one of the caps. She caught enigmatic words--"the borax, crystallized ... solid. It would take a plumber ... have to go." The connection was immovable. Even in her suffering Mrs. Condon implored M. Joseph to save her hair. Nothing, however, could be done; he admitted it with pale lips. The thing might be chiseled off; in the end he tried to force a release and the strand, with a renewal of Mrs. Condon's agony--now, in the interest of her appearance, heroically withstood--snapped short in the container. Rapidly recovering her vigor, she launched on a tirade against M. Joseph and his permanent waving establishment--Linda had never before heard her mother talk in such a loud brutal manner, nor use such heated unpleasant words, and the girl was flooded with a wretched shame. Still another lock, it was revealed, had been ruined, and crumbled to mere dust in its owner's fingers. "The law will provide for you," she promised. "Your hair was dyed," the proprietor returned vindictively. "The girl who washed it will testify. Every one is warned against the permanent if their hair has been colored. So it was at your own risk." "My head's never been touched with dye," Mrs. Condon shrilly answered. "You lying little ape. And well does that young woman know it. She complimented me herself on a true blonde." The girl had, too, right before Linda. "You ought to be thrashed out of the city." "Your money will be given back to you," M. Joseph told her. Outside they found a taxi, and sped back to their hotel. Above, Mrs. Condon removed her hat; and, before the uncompromising mirror, studied her wrecked hair--a frizzled vacancy was directly over her left brow--and haggard face. When she finally turned to Linda, her manner, her words, were solemn. "I'm middle-aged," she said. A dreary silence enveloped them sitting in the dark reception-room while Mrs. Condon restlessly shredded unlighted cigarettes on the floor. She had made no effort to repair the damages to her appearance, and when the telephone bell sharply sounded, she reached out in a slovenly negligence of manner. Linda could hear a blurred articulation and her mother answering listlessly. The latter at last said: "Very well, at seven then; you'll stop for us." She hung up the receiver, stared blankly at Linda, and then went off into a harsh mirth. "Oh, my God!" she cried; "the old ladies' home!" XI With her mother away on a wedding-trip with Mr. Moses Feldt, Linda was suddenly projected into the companionship of his two daughters. One, as he had said, was light, but a different fairness from Mrs. Condon's--richly thick, like honey; while Judith, the elder, who must have been twenty, was dark in skin, in everything but her eyes, which were a contrasting ashen-violet. She spoke at once of Linda's flawless whiteness: "A magnolia," she said, in a deliberate dark voice; "you are quite a gorgeous child. Do you mind my saying that your clothes are rather quaint? They aren't inevitable, and yours ought to be that." They were at lunch in the Feldt dining-room, an interior of heavy ornately carved black wood, panels of Chinese embroidery in imperial yellow, and a neutral mauve carpet. The effect, with glittering iridescent pyramids of glass, massive frosted repouss silver, burnished gold-plate and a wide table decoration of orchids and fern, was tropical and intense. It was evident to Linda that the Feldts were very rich indeed. The entire apartment resembled the dining-room, while the building itself filled a whole city block, with a garden and fountains like an elaborate public square. Linda, however, wasn't particularly impressed by such show; she saw that Judith and Pansy had expected that of her; but she was determined not to exhibit a surprise that would imply any changes in her mother's and her condition. In addition, Linda calmly took such surroundings for granted. Her primary conception of possible existence was elegance; its necessity had so entered into her being that it

handkerchief

How many times the word 'handkerchief' appears in the text?

you with that chauffeur we have had so much. I positively forbid your leaving the hotel else. It's a comfort after all, that you are serious. Kiss mama--" However, she descended with her mother in the elevator; there was a more public caress; and the captain in the Chinese dining-room placed Linda at a small table against the wall. There she had clams--she adored iced clams--creamed shrimps and oysters with potatoes _bordure_, alligator-pear salad and a beautiful charlotte cream with black walnuts. After this she sedately instructed the captain what to sign on the back of the dinner check--Linda Condon, room five hundred and seven--placed thirty-five cents beside the finger-bowl for the waiter, and made her way out to the news stand and the talkative girl who had it in charge. Exhausting the possibilities of gossip, and deciding not to go out to the theatre--in spite of the news girl's exciting description of a play called "The New Sin"--she was walking irresolutely through the high gilded and marble assemblage space when, unfortunately, she was captured by Mr. Moses Feldt. VII He led her to a high-backed lounge against the wall, where, seated on its extreme edge, he gazed silently at her with an expression of sentimental concern. Mr. Moses Feldt was a short round man, bald but for a fluffy rim of pale hair, and with the palest imaginable eyes in a countenance perpetually flushed by the physical necessity of accommodating his rotundity to awkward edges and conditions. As usual he was dressed with the nicest care--a band of white linen laid in the opening of his waistcoat, his scarf ornamented by a pear-shaped pearl on a diamond finished stem; his cloth-topped varnished black shoes glistened, while his short fat fingers clasped a prodigious unlighted cigar. At last, in a tone exactly suited to his gaze, he exclaimed: "So that naughty mama has gone out again and deserted Moses and her little Linda!" In what way her mother had deserted Mr. Feldt she failed to understand. Of course he wanted to marry them--the comprehensive phrase was his own--but that didn't include him in whatever they did. Principally it made a joke for their private entertainment. Mrs. Condon would mimic his eager manner, "Stella, let me take you both home where you'll have the best in the land," And, "Ladies like you ought to have a loving protection." Linda would laugh in her cool bell-like manner, and her mother add a satirical comment on the chance any Moses Feldt had of marrying her. Linda at once found him ridiculous and a being who forced a slighting warmth of liking. His appearance was preposterous, the ready emotion often too foolish for words; but underneath there was a--a goodness, a mysterious quality that stirred her heart to recognition. Certain rare things in life and experience affected her like that memory of an old happiness. She could never say what they might be, they came at the oddest times and by the most extraordinary means; but at their occurrence she would thrill for a moment as if in response to a sound of music. It was, for example, absurd that Mr. Moses Feldt, who was a Jew, should make her feel like that, but he did. And all the while that she was disagreeable to him, or mocking him behind his back, she was as uncomfortable and "horrid" as possible. While this fact, of course, only served to make her horrider still. At present she adopted the manner of a patience that nothing could quite exhaust; she was polite and formal, relentlessly correct in position. Mr. Moses Feldt, the cigar in his grasp, pressed a hand to the probable region of his heart. "You don't know how I think of you," he protested, tears in his eyes; "just the idea of you exposed to anything at all in hotels keeps me awake nights. Now it's a drunk, or a fresh feller on the elevator, or--" "It's nice of you," Linda said, "but you needn't worry. No one would dare to bother us. No one ever has." "You wouldn't know it if they did," he replied despondently, "at your age. And then your mother is so trustful and pleasant. Take those parties where she is so much--roof frolics and cocoanut groves and submarine caf s; they don't come to any good. Rowdy." Linda studied him coldly; if he criticized them further she would leave. He mopped a shining brow with a large colorful silk handkerchief. "It throws me into a sweat," he admitted. "Really, Mr. Feldt, you mustn't bother," she told him in one of her few impulses of friendliness. "You see, we are very experienced." He nodded without visible happiness at this truth. "I'm a jackass!" he cried. "Judith tells me that all the time. If you could only see my daughters," he continued with a new vigor; "such lovely girls as they are. One dark like you and the other fair as a daisy. Judith and Pansy. And my home that darling mama made before she died." The handkerchief was again in evidence. "Women and girls are funny. I can't get you there and not for nothing will Judith make a step. It may be pride but it seems to me such nonsense. I guess I'm old-fashioned and love's old-fashioned. Homes have gone out of style with the rest. It's all these restaurants and roofs now, yes, and studios. I tell the girls to stay away from them and from artists and so on. I don't encourage them at the apartment--a big lump of a feller with platinum bracelets on his wrists. What kind of a man would that be! I'd like to know who'd buy goods from him. "Sometimes, I'm sorry I got a lot of money, but it made mama happy. When she laid there at the last sick and couldn't live, I said, 'Oh, if you only won't leave me I'll give you gold to eat.'" He was so moved, his face so red, that Linda grew acutely embarrassed. People were looking at them. She rose stiffly but, in spite of her effort to escape him, he caught both her hands in his: "You say I'm an old idiot like Judith," he begged. This Linda declined to do. And, "Ask your mother if you won't come to dinner with the girls and me, cozy and at home--just once." "I'm afraid it will do no good," she admitted; "but I'll try." She realized that he was about to kiss her and moved quickly back. "I am almost afraid of you," he told her; "you're so distant and elegant. Judith and Pansy would get on with you first rate. I'll telephone tomorrow, in the afternoon. If the last flowers I sent you came I never heard of it." She thanked him appropriately for the roses and stood, erect and impersonal, as a man in the hotel livery helped him into a coat. Mr. Moses Feldt waved the still unlighted cigar at her and disappeared through the rotating door to the street. She gave a half-affected sigh of relief. Couldn't he see that her mother would never marry him. At the same time the strange thrill touched her; the sense of his absurdity vanished and she no longer remembered him perched like a painted rubber ball on the edge of the lounge. In the somber red plush and varnished wood of the reception-room of their suite he seemed again charming. Perhaps it was because he, too, adored her mother. That wasn't the reason. The familiar rare joy lingered. It seemed now as though she were to capture and understand it ... there was the vibration of music; and then, as always, she felt at once sad and brave. But, in spite of her old effort to the contrary, the feeling died away. Some day it would be clear to her; in the meanwhile Mr. Moses Feldt became once more only ridiculous. VIII In the morning she was dressed and had returned from breakfast before her mother stirred. The latter moved sharply, brought an arm up over her head, and swore. It was a long while before she got up or spoke again, and Linda never remembered her in a worse temper. When, finally, she came into the room where the breakfast-tray was laid, Linda was inexpressibly shocked--all that her mother had dreaded about her appearance had come disastrously true. Her face was hung with shadows like smudges of dirt and her eyes were netted with lines. Examining the dishes with distaste she told Linda that positively she could slap her for letting them bring up orange-juice. "How often must I explain to you that it freezes my fingers." Linda replied that she had repeated this in the breakfast-room and perhaps they had the wrong order. Neither her mother nor she said anything more until Mrs. Condon had finished her coffee and started a second cigarette. Then Linda related something of Mr. Moses Feldt's call on the evening before. "He cried right into his handkerchief," she said, "until I thought I should sink." Mrs. Condon eyed her daughter speculatively. "Now if you were only four years older," she declared, "it would be a good thing. He was simply born to be a husband." Horror filled Linda at the other's implication. "Yes," the elder insisted; "you couldn't do better; except, perhaps, for those girls of his. But then you'd have no trouble making them miserable. It's time to talk to you seriously about marriage." The smoke from the cigarette eddied in a gray veil across her unrefreshed face. "You're old for your age, Linda; your life has made you that; and, like I said last night, it is rather better than not. Well, for you marriage, and soon as possible, is the proper thing. Mind, I have never said a word against it; only what suits one doesn't suit another. Where it wouldn't be anything more than an old ladies' home to me you need it early and plenty. You are too intense. That doesn't go in the world. Men don't like it. They want their pleasure and comfort without strings tied to them; the intensity has to be theirs. "What you must get through your head is that love--whatever it is--and marriage are two different things, and if you are going to be successful they must be kept separate. You can't do anything with a man if you love him; but then you can't do anything with him if he doesn't love you. That's the whole thing in a breath. I am not crying down love, either; only I don't want you to think it is the bread and butter while it's nothing more than those little sweet cakes at Henri's. "Now any girl who marries a poor man or for love--they are the same thing--is a fool and deserves what she gets. No one thanks her for it, him least of all; because if she does love him it is only to make them miserable. She's always at him--where did he go and why did he stay so long, and no matter what he says she knows it's a lie. More times than not she's right, too. I can't tell you too often--men don't want to be loved, they like to be flattered and flattered and then flattered again. You'd never believe how childish they are. "Make them think they're it and don't give too much--that's the secret. Above all else don't be easy on them. Don't say 'all right, darling, next spring will do as well for a new suit.' Get it then and let him worry about paying for it, if worry he must. If they don't give it to you some one smarter will wear it. But I started to talk about getting married. "Choose a Moses Feldt, who will always be grateful to you, and keep him at it. They are so easy to land it's a kind of shame, too. Perhaps I am telling you this too soon, but I don't want any mistakes. Well, pick out your Moses--and mama will help you there--and suddenly, at the right time, show him that you can be affectionate; surprise him with it and you so staid and particular generally. Don't overdo it, promise more than you ever give-- "In the closet, dearie, just a little. That's a good girl. Mama's so dry." She rose, the silver cup of the flask in her hand, and moved inevitably to the mirror. "My hair's a sight," she remarked; "all strings. I believe I'll get a permanent wave. They say it lasts for six months or more, till the ends grow out. Makes a lot of it, too, and holds the front together. If you've ever had dye in your hair, I hear, it will break off like grass." Linda pondered over what she had been told of love and marriage; on the whole the exposition had been unsatisfactory. The latter she was able to grasp, but her mother had admitted an inability exactly to fix love. One fact, apparently, was clear--it was a nuisance and a hindrance to happiness, or rather to success. Love upset things. Still she had the strongest objection possible to living forever with a man like Mr. Moses Feldt. At once all that she had hoped for from life grew flat and uninteresting. She had no doubt of her mother's correctness and wisdom; the world was like that; she must make the best of it. There was some telephoning, inquiries, and she heard the elder make an appointment with a hair-dresser for three that afternoon. She wondered what it would be like to have your hair permanently waved and hoped that she would see it done. This, too, she realized, was a part of the necessity of always considering men--they liked your hair to be wavy. Hers was as straight and stupid as possible. She, in turn, examined herself in a mirror: the black bang fell exactly to her eyebrows, her face had no color other than the carnation of her lips and her deep blue eyes. She moved away and critically studied her figure; inches and inches too thin, she decided. Undoubtedly her mother was right, and she must marry at the first opportunity--if she could find a man, a rich man, who was willing. Her thoughts returned vaguely to the mystery, the nuisance, of love. Surely she had heard something before, immensely important, about it, and totally different from all her mother had said. Her mind was filled with the fantastic image of a forest, of dangers, and a fat china figure with curled plumes, a nodding head, that brushed her with fear and disgust. A shuddering panic took possession of her, flashes burned before her eyes, and she ran gasping to the perfumed soft reassurances of her mother. IX In a recurrence of her surprising concern of the day before Mrs. Condon declined to leave her dearest Linda alone; and, their arms caught together in a surging affection, they walked down Fifth Avenue toward the hairdresser's. There was a diffused gray sparkle of sunlight--it was early for the throngs--through which they passed rapidly to the accompaniment of a rapid eager chatter. Linda wore a deep smooth camel's hair cape, over which her intense black hair poured like ink, and her face was shaded by a dipping green velvet hat. Her mother, in one of the tightly cut suits she affected, had never been more like a perfect companion. They saw, in the window of a store for men, a set of violent purple wool underwear, and barely escaped hysterics at the thought of Mr. Moses Feldt in such a garb. They giggled idiotically at the spectacle of a countryman fearfully making the sharp descent from the top of a lurching omnibus. And then, when they had reached the place of Mrs. Condon's appointment, stopped at the show of elaborately waved hair on wax heads and chose which, probably, would resemble the elder and which, in a very short while now, Linda. There was an impressive interior, furnished in gray panels and silvery wood; and the young woman at the desk was more surprisingly waved than anything they had yet seen. M. Joseph would be ready almost immediately; and in the meanwhile Mrs. Condon could lay aside her things in preparation for the hair to be washed. She did this while Linda followed every movement with the deepest interest. At the back of the long room was a succession of small alcoves, each with an important-looking chair and mirror and shelves, a white basin, water-taps and rubber tubes. Settled, in comfort, Mrs. Condon's hair was spread out in a bright metal tray fastened to the back of the chair, and the attendant, a moist tired girl in a careless waist, sprayed the short thick gold-colored strands. "My," she observed, "what some wouldn't give for your shade! Never been touched, I can see, either. A lady comes in with real Titian, but yours is more select. It positively is Lillian Russell." While she talked her hands sped with incredible rapidity and skill. "The gentlemen don't notice it; of course not; oh, no! There was a girl here, a true blonde, but she didn't stay long--her own car, yes, indeed. Married her right out of the establishment. There wasn't any nonsense to her. "So this is your little girl! I'd never have believed it. Not that she hasn't a great deal of style, a great deal--almost, you might say, like an Egyptian. In the movies last night; her all over. It's a type that will need studying. Bertha Kalich. But for me--" Already, Linda saw, this part of the operation was done. The girl wheeled into position a case that had a fan and ring of blue flickering flames, and a cupped tube through which hot air was poured over her mother's head. M. Joseph strutted in, a small carefully dressed man with a diminutive pointed gray beard and formal curled mustache. He spoke with what Linda supposed was a French accent, and his manners, at least to them, were beautiful. But because the girl had not put out the blue flames quickly enough he turned to her with a voice of quivering rage. It was so unexpected, in the middle of his bowing and smooth assurances, that Linda was startled, and had to think about him all over. The result of this was a surprising dislike; she hated, even, to see him touch her mother, as he unnecessarily did in directing them into the enclosure for the permanent wave. The place itself filled her with the faint horror of instruments and the unknown. Above the chair where Mrs. Condon now sat there was a circle in the ceiling like the base of a chandelier and hanging down from it on twisted green wires were a great number of the strangest things imaginable: they were as thick as her wrist, but round, longer and hollow, white china inside and covered with brown wrapping. The wires of each, she discovered, led over a little wheel and down again to a swinging clock-like weight. In addition to this there were strange depressing handles on the wall by a dial with a jiggling needle and clearly marked numbers. The skill of the girl who had washed her mother's hair, however, was slight compared with M. Joseph's dexterity. The comb flashed in his white narrow hands; in no time at all every knot was urged out into a shining smoothness. "Just the front?" he inquired. Not waiting for Mrs. Condon's reply, he detached a strand from the mass over her brow, impaled it on a hairpin, while he picked up what might have been a thick steel knitting-needle with one end fastened in the middle of a silver quarter. The latter, it developed, had a hole in it, through which he drew the strand of hair, and then wrapped it with an angry tightness about the long projection. At this exact moment a new girl, but tired and moist, appeared, took a hank of white threads from a dressing-table, and tied that separate lock firmly. This, Linda counted, was repeated fifteen times; and when it was accomplished she was unable to repress a nervous laughter. Really, her mother looked too queer for words: the long rigid projections stood out all over her head like--like a huge pincushion; no, it was a porcupine. Mrs. Condon smiled in uncertain recognition of her daughter's mirth. Then Linda's attention followed M. Joseph to a table against a partition, where he secured a white cotton strip from a film of them soaking in a shallow tray, took up some white powder on the blade of a dessert knife and transferred it to the strip. This he wrapped and wrapped about the hair fastened on a spindle, tied it in turn, and dragged down one of the brown objects on wires, which, to Linda's great astonishment, fitted precisely over the cotton-bound hair. Again, fifteen times, M. Joseph did this, fastening each connection with the turn of a screw. When so much was accomplished her mother's hair, it seemed, had grown fast to the ceiling in a tangle of green ends. It was the most terrifying spectacle Linda had ever witnessed. Obscure thoughts of torture, of criminals executed by electricity, froze her in a set apprehension. The hair-dresser stepped over to the dials on the wall, and, with a sharp comprehensive glance at his apparatus, moved a handle as far as it would go. Nothing immediately happened, and Linda gave a relaxing sigh of relief. M. Joseph, however, became full of a painful attention. X He brought into view an unsuspected tube, with a cone of paper at its end, and bent over her mother, directing a stream of cold air against her head. "How do you feel?" he asked, with, Linda noticed, a startling loss of his first accent. Mrs. Condon so far felt well enough. Then, before Linda's startled gaze, every single one of the fifteen imprisoning tubes began to steam with an extraordinary vigor; not only did they steam, like teapots, but drops of water formed and slowly slid over her mother's face. If the process appeared weird at the beginning, now it was utterly fantastic. The little white vapor spurts played about Mrs. Condon's dripping countenance; they increased rather than diminished; actually it resembled a wrecked locomotive she had once seen. "How are you?" M. Joseph demanded nervously. "Is it hot anywhere?" With a sudden gesture she replied in a shaking voice, "Here." Instantly he was holding the paper cone with its cold air against her scalp, and the heat was subdued. He glanced nervously at his watch, and Mrs. Condon managed to ask, "How long?" "Twenty minutes." Dangerous as the whole proceeding seemed nothing really happened, and Linda's fears gradually faded into a mere curiosity and interest. A curtain hung across the door to the rest of the establishment, but it had been brushed partly aside; and she could see, in the compartment they had vacated, another man bending with waving irons over the liberated mass of a woman's hair. He was very much like M. Joseph, but he was younger and had only a dark scrap of mustache. As he caught up the hair with a quick double twist he leaned very close to the woman's face, whispering with an expression that never changed, an expression like that of the wax heads in the show-case. He bent so low that Linda was certain their cheeks had touched. She pondered at length over this, gazing now at the man beyond and now at M. Joseph flitting with the cold-air tube about her mother; wondering if, when she grew older, she would like a hair-dresser's cheek against hers. Linda decided not. The idea didn't shock her, the woman in the other space plainly liked it; still she decided she wouldn't. A different kind of man, she told herself, would be nicer. Her thoughts were interrupted by a sharp, unpleasant odor--the odor of scorched hair; and she was absolutely rigid with horror at an agonized cry from her mother. "It's burning me terribly," the latter cried. "Oh, I can't stand it. Stop! Stop!" M. Joseph, as white as plaster, rushed to the wall and reversed the handle, and Mrs. Condon started from the chair, her face now streaming with actual tears; but before she could escape the man threw himself on her shoulders. "You mustn't move," he whispered desperately, "you'll tear your hair out. I tell you no harm's been done. Everything is all right. Please, please don't cry like that. It will ruin my business. There are others in the establishment. Stop!" he shook her viciously. Linda had risen, terrorized; and Mrs. Condon, with waving plucking hands, was sobbing an appeal to be released. "My head, my head," she repeated. "I assure you"--the man motioned to a pallid girl to hold her in the chair. With a towel to protect his hand he undid a screw, lifted off the cap and untwisted the cotton from a bound lock of hair; releasing it, in turn, from the spindle it fell forward in a complete corkscrew over Mrs. Condon's face. "Do you see!" he demanded. "Perfect. I give you my word they'll all be like that. The cursed heat ran up on me," he added in a swift aside to his assistant. "Has Mrs. Bellows gone? Who's still in the place? Here, loose that binding ... thank God, that one is all right, too." Together they unfastened most of the connections, and a growing fringe of long remarkable curls marked Mrs. Condon's pain-drawn and dabbled face. Linda sobbed uncontrollably; but perhaps, after all, nothing frightful had happened. Her poor mother! Then fear again tightened about her heart at the perturbed expression that overtook the hair-dresser. He was trying in vain to remove one of the caps. She caught enigmatic words--"the borax, crystallized ... solid. It would take a plumber ... have to go." The connection was immovable. Even in her suffering Mrs. Condon implored M. Joseph to save her hair. Nothing, however, could be done; he admitted it with pale lips. The thing might be chiseled off; in the end he tried to force a release and the strand, with a renewal of Mrs. Condon's agony--now, in the interest of her appearance, heroically withstood--snapped short in the container. Rapidly recovering her vigor, she launched on a tirade against M. Joseph and his permanent waving establishment--Linda had never before heard her mother talk in such a loud brutal manner, nor use such heated unpleasant words, and the girl was flooded with a wretched shame. Still another lock, it was revealed, had been ruined, and crumbled to mere dust in its owner's fingers. "The law will provide for you," she promised. "Your hair was dyed," the proprietor returned vindictively. "The girl who washed it will testify. Every one is warned against the permanent if their hair has been colored. So it was at your own risk." "My head's never been touched with dye," Mrs. Condon shrilly answered. "You lying little ape. And well does that young woman know it. She complimented me herself on a true blonde." The girl had, too, right before Linda. "You ought to be thrashed out of the city." "Your money will be given back to you," M. Joseph told her. Outside they found a taxi, and sped back to their hotel. Above, Mrs. Condon removed her hat; and, before the uncompromising mirror, studied her wrecked hair--a frizzled vacancy was directly over her left brow--and haggard face. When she finally turned to Linda, her manner, her words, were solemn. "I'm middle-aged," she said. A dreary silence enveloped them sitting in the dark reception-room while Mrs. Condon restlessly shredded unlighted cigarettes on the floor. She had made no effort to repair the damages to her appearance, and when the telephone bell sharply sounded, she reached out in a slovenly negligence of manner. Linda could hear a blurred articulation and her mother answering listlessly. The latter at last said: "Very well, at seven then; you'll stop for us." She hung up the receiver, stared blankly at Linda, and then went off into a harsh mirth. "Oh, my God!" she cried; "the old ladies' home!" XI With her mother away on a wedding-trip with Mr. Moses Feldt, Linda was suddenly projected into the companionship of his two daughters. One, as he had said, was light, but a different fairness from Mrs. Condon's--richly thick, like honey; while Judith, the elder, who must have been twenty, was dark in skin, in everything but her eyes, which were a contrasting ashen-violet. She spoke at once of Linda's flawless whiteness: "A magnolia," she said, in a deliberate dark voice; "you are quite a gorgeous child. Do you mind my saying that your clothes are rather quaint? They aren't inevitable, and yours ought to be that." They were at lunch in the Feldt dining-room, an interior of heavy ornately carved black wood, panels of Chinese embroidery in imperial yellow, and a neutral mauve carpet. The effect, with glittering iridescent pyramids of glass, massive frosted repouss silver, burnished gold-plate and a wide table decoration of orchids and fern, was tropical and intense. It was evident to Linda that the Feldts were very rich indeed. The entire apartment resembled the dining-room, while the building itself filled a whole city block, with a garden and fountains like an elaborate public square. Linda, however, wasn't particularly impressed by such show; she saw that Judith and Pansy had expected that of her; but she was determined not to exhibit a surprise that would imply any changes in her mother's and her condition. In addition, Linda calmly took such surroundings for granted. Her primary conception of possible existence was elegance; its necessity had so entered into her being that it

captain

How many times the word 'captain' appears in the text?

you with that chauffeur we have had so much. I positively forbid your leaving the hotel else. It's a comfort after all, that you are serious. Kiss mama--" However, she descended with her mother in the elevator; there was a more public caress; and the captain in the Chinese dining-room placed Linda at a small table against the wall. There she had clams--she adored iced clams--creamed shrimps and oysters with potatoes _bordure_, alligator-pear salad and a beautiful charlotte cream with black walnuts. After this she sedately instructed the captain what to sign on the back of the dinner check--Linda Condon, room five hundred and seven--placed thirty-five cents beside the finger-bowl for the waiter, and made her way out to the news stand and the talkative girl who had it in charge. Exhausting the possibilities of gossip, and deciding not to go out to the theatre--in spite of the news girl's exciting description of a play called "The New Sin"--she was walking irresolutely through the high gilded and marble assemblage space when, unfortunately, she was captured by Mr. Moses Feldt. VII He led her to a high-backed lounge against the wall, where, seated on its extreme edge, he gazed silently at her with an expression of sentimental concern. Mr. Moses Feldt was a short round man, bald but for a fluffy rim of pale hair, and with the palest imaginable eyes in a countenance perpetually flushed by the physical necessity of accommodating his rotundity to awkward edges and conditions. As usual he was dressed with the nicest care--a band of white linen laid in the opening of his waistcoat, his scarf ornamented by a pear-shaped pearl on a diamond finished stem; his cloth-topped varnished black shoes glistened, while his short fat fingers clasped a prodigious unlighted cigar. At last, in a tone exactly suited to his gaze, he exclaimed: "So that naughty mama has gone out again and deserted Moses and her little Linda!" In what way her mother had deserted Mr. Feldt she failed to understand. Of course he wanted to marry them--the comprehensive phrase was his own--but that didn't include him in whatever they did. Principally it made a joke for their private entertainment. Mrs. Condon would mimic his eager manner, "Stella, let me take you both home where you'll have the best in the land," And, "Ladies like you ought to have a loving protection." Linda would laugh in her cool bell-like manner, and her mother add a satirical comment on the chance any Moses Feldt had of marrying her. Linda at once found him ridiculous and a being who forced a slighting warmth of liking. His appearance was preposterous, the ready emotion often too foolish for words; but underneath there was a--a goodness, a mysterious quality that stirred her heart to recognition. Certain rare things in life and experience affected her like that memory of an old happiness. She could never say what they might be, they came at the oddest times and by the most extraordinary means; but at their occurrence she would thrill for a moment as if in response to a sound of music. It was, for example, absurd that Mr. Moses Feldt, who was a Jew, should make her feel like that, but he did. And all the while that she was disagreeable to him, or mocking him behind his back, she was as uncomfortable and "horrid" as possible. While this fact, of course, only served to make her horrider still. At present she adopted the manner of a patience that nothing could quite exhaust; she was polite and formal, relentlessly correct in position. Mr. Moses Feldt, the cigar in his grasp, pressed a hand to the probable region of his heart. "You don't know how I think of you," he protested, tears in his eyes; "just the idea of you exposed to anything at all in hotels keeps me awake nights. Now it's a drunk, or a fresh feller on the elevator, or--" "It's nice of you," Linda said, "but you needn't worry. No one would dare to bother us. No one ever has." "You wouldn't know it if they did," he replied despondently, "at your age. And then your mother is so trustful and pleasant. Take those parties where she is so much--roof frolics and cocoanut groves and submarine caf s; they don't come to any good. Rowdy." Linda studied him coldly; if he criticized them further she would leave. He mopped a shining brow with a large colorful silk handkerchief. "It throws me into a sweat," he admitted. "Really, Mr. Feldt, you mustn't bother," she told him in one of her few impulses of friendliness. "You see, we are very experienced." He nodded without visible happiness at this truth. "I'm a jackass!" he cried. "Judith tells me that all the time. If you could only see my daughters," he continued with a new vigor; "such lovely girls as they are. One dark like you and the other fair as a daisy. Judith and Pansy. And my home that darling mama made before she died." The handkerchief was again in evidence. "Women and girls are funny. I can't get you there and not for nothing will Judith make a step. It may be pride but it seems to me such nonsense. I guess I'm old-fashioned and love's old-fashioned. Homes have gone out of style with the rest. It's all these restaurants and roofs now, yes, and studios. I tell the girls to stay away from them and from artists and so on. I don't encourage them at the apartment--a big lump of a feller with platinum bracelets on his wrists. What kind of a man would that be! I'd like to know who'd buy goods from him. "Sometimes, I'm sorry I got a lot of money, but it made mama happy. When she laid there at the last sick and couldn't live, I said, 'Oh, if you only won't leave me I'll give you gold to eat.'" He was so moved, his face so red, that Linda grew acutely embarrassed. People were looking at them. She rose stiffly but, in spite of her effort to escape him, he caught both her hands in his: "You say I'm an old idiot like Judith," he begged. This Linda declined to do. And, "Ask your mother if you won't come to dinner with the girls and me, cozy and at home--just once." "I'm afraid it will do no good," she admitted; "but I'll try." She realized that he was about to kiss her and moved quickly back. "I am almost afraid of you," he told her; "you're so distant and elegant. Judith and Pansy would get on with you first rate. I'll telephone tomorrow, in the afternoon. If the last flowers I sent you came I never heard of it." She thanked him appropriately for the roses and stood, erect and impersonal, as a man in the hotel livery helped him into a coat. Mr. Moses Feldt waved the still unlighted cigar at her and disappeared through the rotating door to the street. She gave a half-affected sigh of relief. Couldn't he see that her mother would never marry him. At the same time the strange thrill touched her; the sense of his absurdity vanished and she no longer remembered him perched like a painted rubber ball on the edge of the lounge. In the somber red plush and varnished wood of the reception-room of their suite he seemed again charming. Perhaps it was because he, too, adored her mother. That wasn't the reason. The familiar rare joy lingered. It seemed now as though she were to capture and understand it ... there was the vibration of music; and then, as always, she felt at once sad and brave. But, in spite of her old effort to the contrary, the feeling died away. Some day it would be clear to her; in the meanwhile Mr. Moses Feldt became once more only ridiculous. VIII In the morning she was dressed and had returned from breakfast before her mother stirred. The latter moved sharply, brought an arm up over her head, and swore. It was a long while before she got up or spoke again, and Linda never remembered her in a worse temper. When, finally, she came into the room where the breakfast-tray was laid, Linda was inexpressibly shocked--all that her mother had dreaded about her appearance had come disastrously true. Her face was hung with shadows like smudges of dirt and her eyes were netted with lines. Examining the dishes with distaste she told Linda that positively she could slap her for letting them bring up orange-juice. "How often must I explain to you that it freezes my fingers." Linda replied that she had repeated this in the breakfast-room and perhaps they had the wrong order. Neither her mother nor she said anything more until Mrs. Condon had finished her coffee and started a second cigarette. Then Linda related something of Mr. Moses Feldt's call on the evening before. "He cried right into his handkerchief," she said, "until I thought I should sink." Mrs. Condon eyed her daughter speculatively. "Now if you were only four years older," she declared, "it would be a good thing. He was simply born to be a husband." Horror filled Linda at the other's implication. "Yes," the elder insisted; "you couldn't do better; except, perhaps, for those girls of his. But then you'd have no trouble making them miserable. It's time to talk to you seriously about marriage." The smoke from the cigarette eddied in a gray veil across her unrefreshed face. "You're old for your age, Linda; your life has made you that; and, like I said last night, it is rather better than not. Well, for you marriage, and soon as possible, is the proper thing. Mind, I have never said a word against it; only what suits one doesn't suit another. Where it wouldn't be anything more than an old ladies' home to me you need it early and plenty. You are too intense. That doesn't go in the world. Men don't like it. They want their pleasure and comfort without strings tied to them; the intensity has to be theirs. "What you must get through your head is that love--whatever it is--and marriage are two different things, and if you are going to be successful they must be kept separate. You can't do anything with a man if you love him; but then you can't do anything with him if he doesn't love you. That's the whole thing in a breath. I am not crying down love, either; only I don't want you to think it is the bread and butter while it's nothing more than those little sweet cakes at Henri's. "Now any girl who marries a poor man or for love--they are the same thing--is a fool and deserves what she gets. No one thanks her for it, him least of all; because if she does love him it is only to make them miserable. She's always at him--where did he go and why did he stay so long, and no matter what he says she knows it's a lie. More times than not she's right, too. I can't tell you too often--men don't want to be loved, they like to be flattered and flattered and then flattered again. You'd never believe how childish they are. "Make them think they're it and don't give too much--that's the secret. Above all else don't be easy on them. Don't say 'all right, darling, next spring will do as well for a new suit.' Get it then and let him worry about paying for it, if worry he must. If they don't give it to you some one smarter will wear it. But I started to talk about getting married. "Choose a Moses Feldt, who will always be grateful to you, and keep him at it. They are so easy to land it's a kind of shame, too. Perhaps I am telling you this too soon, but I don't want any mistakes. Well, pick out your Moses--and mama will help you there--and suddenly, at the right time, show him that you can be affectionate; surprise him with it and you so staid and particular generally. Don't overdo it, promise more than you ever give-- "In the closet, dearie, just a little. That's a good girl. Mama's so dry." She rose, the silver cup of the flask in her hand, and moved inevitably to the mirror. "My hair's a sight," she remarked; "all strings. I believe I'll get a permanent wave. They say it lasts for six months or more, till the ends grow out. Makes a lot of it, too, and holds the front together. If you've ever had dye in your hair, I hear, it will break off like grass." Linda pondered over what she had been told of love and marriage; on the whole the exposition had been unsatisfactory. The latter she was able to grasp, but her mother had admitted an inability exactly to fix love. One fact, apparently, was clear--it was a nuisance and a hindrance to happiness, or rather to success. Love upset things. Still she had the strongest objection possible to living forever with a man like Mr. Moses Feldt. At once all that she had hoped for from life grew flat and uninteresting. She had no doubt of her mother's correctness and wisdom; the world was like that; she must make the best of it. There was some telephoning, inquiries, and she heard the elder make an appointment with a hair-dresser for three that afternoon. She wondered what it would be like to have your hair permanently waved and hoped that she would see it done. This, too, she realized, was a part of the necessity of always considering men--they liked your hair to be wavy. Hers was as straight and stupid as possible. She, in turn, examined herself in a mirror: the black bang fell exactly to her eyebrows, her face had no color other than the carnation of her lips and her deep blue eyes. She moved away and critically studied her figure; inches and inches too thin, she decided. Undoubtedly her mother was right, and she must marry at the first opportunity--if she could find a man, a rich man, who was willing. Her thoughts returned vaguely to the mystery, the nuisance, of love. Surely she had heard something before, immensely important, about it, and totally different from all her mother had said. Her mind was filled with the fantastic image of a forest, of dangers, and a fat china figure with curled plumes, a nodding head, that brushed her with fear and disgust. A shuddering panic took possession of her, flashes burned before her eyes, and she ran gasping to the perfumed soft reassurances of her mother. IX In a recurrence of her surprising concern of the day before Mrs. Condon declined to leave her dearest Linda alone; and, their arms caught together in a surging affection, they walked down Fifth Avenue toward the hairdresser's. There was a diffused gray sparkle of sunlight--it was early for the throngs--through which they passed rapidly to the accompaniment of a rapid eager chatter. Linda wore a deep smooth camel's hair cape, over which her intense black hair poured like ink, and her face was shaded by a dipping green velvet hat. Her mother, in one of the tightly cut suits she affected, had never been more like a perfect companion. They saw, in the window of a store for men, a set of violent purple wool underwear, and barely escaped hysterics at the thought of Mr. Moses Feldt in such a garb. They giggled idiotically at the spectacle of a countryman fearfully making the sharp descent from the top of a lurching omnibus. And then, when they had reached the place of Mrs. Condon's appointment, stopped at the show of elaborately waved hair on wax heads and chose which, probably, would resemble the elder and which, in a very short while now, Linda. There was an impressive interior, furnished in gray panels and silvery wood; and the young woman at the desk was more surprisingly waved than anything they had yet seen. M. Joseph would be ready almost immediately; and in the meanwhile Mrs. Condon could lay aside her things in preparation for the hair to be washed. She did this while Linda followed every movement with the deepest interest. At the back of the long room was a succession of small alcoves, each with an important-looking chair and mirror and shelves, a white basin, water-taps and rubber tubes. Settled, in comfort, Mrs. Condon's hair was spread out in a bright metal tray fastened to the back of the chair, and the attendant, a moist tired girl in a careless waist, sprayed the short thick gold-colored strands. "My," she observed, "what some wouldn't give for your shade! Never been touched, I can see, either. A lady comes in with real Titian, but yours is more select. It positively is Lillian Russell." While she talked her hands sped with incredible rapidity and skill. "The gentlemen don't notice it; of course not; oh, no! There was a girl here, a true blonde, but she didn't stay long--her own car, yes, indeed. Married her right out of the establishment. There wasn't any nonsense to her. "So this is your little girl! I'd never have believed it. Not that she hasn't a great deal of style, a great deal--almost, you might say, like an Egyptian. In the movies last night; her all over. It's a type that will need studying. Bertha Kalich. But for me--" Already, Linda saw, this part of the operation was done. The girl wheeled into position a case that had a fan and ring of blue flickering flames, and a cupped tube through which hot air was poured over her mother's head. M. Joseph strutted in, a small carefully dressed man with a diminutive pointed gray beard and formal curled mustache. He spoke with what Linda supposed was a French accent, and his manners, at least to them, were beautiful. But because the girl had not put out the blue flames quickly enough he turned to her with a voice of quivering rage. It was so unexpected, in the middle of his bowing and smooth assurances, that Linda was startled, and had to think about him all over. The result of this was a surprising dislike; she hated, even, to see him touch her mother, as he unnecessarily did in directing them into the enclosure for the permanent wave. The place itself filled her with the faint horror of instruments and the unknown. Above the chair where Mrs. Condon now sat there was a circle in the ceiling like the base of a chandelier and hanging down from it on twisted green wires were a great number of the strangest things imaginable: they were as thick as her wrist, but round, longer and hollow, white china inside and covered with brown wrapping. The wires of each, she discovered, led over a little wheel and down again to a swinging clock-like weight. In addition to this there were strange depressing handles on the wall by a dial with a jiggling needle and clearly marked numbers. The skill of the girl who had washed her mother's hair, however, was slight compared with M. Joseph's dexterity. The comb flashed in his white narrow hands; in no time at all every knot was urged out into a shining smoothness. "Just the front?" he inquired. Not waiting for Mrs. Condon's reply, he detached a strand from the mass over her brow, impaled it on a hairpin, while he picked up what might have been a thick steel knitting-needle with one end fastened in the middle of a silver quarter. The latter, it developed, had a hole in it, through which he drew the strand of hair, and then wrapped it with an angry tightness about the long projection. At this exact moment a new girl, but tired and moist, appeared, took a hank of white threads from a dressing-table, and tied that separate lock firmly. This, Linda counted, was repeated fifteen times; and when it was accomplished she was unable to repress a nervous laughter. Really, her mother looked too queer for words: the long rigid projections stood out all over her head like--like a huge pincushion; no, it was a porcupine. Mrs. Condon smiled in uncertain recognition of her daughter's mirth. Then Linda's attention followed M. Joseph to a table against a partition, where he secured a white cotton strip from a film of them soaking in a shallow tray, took up some white powder on the blade of a dessert knife and transferred it to the strip. This he wrapped and wrapped about the hair fastened on a spindle, tied it in turn, and dragged down one of the brown objects on wires, which, to Linda's great astonishment, fitted precisely over the cotton-bound hair. Again, fifteen times, M. Joseph did this, fastening each connection with the turn of a screw. When so much was accomplished her mother's hair, it seemed, had grown fast to the ceiling in a tangle of green ends. It was the most terrifying spectacle Linda had ever witnessed. Obscure thoughts of torture, of criminals executed by electricity, froze her in a set apprehension. The hair-dresser stepped over to the dials on the wall, and, with a sharp comprehensive glance at his apparatus, moved a handle as far as it would go. Nothing immediately happened, and Linda gave a relaxing sigh of relief. M. Joseph, however, became full of a painful attention. X He brought into view an unsuspected tube, with a cone of paper at its end, and bent over her mother, directing a stream of cold air against her head. "How do you feel?" he asked, with, Linda noticed, a startling loss of his first accent. Mrs. Condon so far felt well enough. Then, before Linda's startled gaze, every single one of the fifteen imprisoning tubes began to steam with an extraordinary vigor; not only did they steam, like teapots, but drops of water formed and slowly slid over her mother's face. If the process appeared weird at the beginning, now it was utterly fantastic. The little white vapor spurts played about Mrs. Condon's dripping countenance; they increased rather than diminished; actually it resembled a wrecked locomotive she had once seen. "How are you?" M. Joseph demanded nervously. "Is it hot anywhere?" With a sudden gesture she replied in a shaking voice, "Here." Instantly he was holding the paper cone with its cold air against her scalp, and the heat was subdued. He glanced nervously at his watch, and Mrs. Condon managed to ask, "How long?" "Twenty minutes." Dangerous as the whole proceeding seemed nothing really happened, and Linda's fears gradually faded into a mere curiosity and interest. A curtain hung across the door to the rest of the establishment, but it had been brushed partly aside; and she could see, in the compartment they had vacated, another man bending with waving irons over the liberated mass of a woman's hair. He was very much like M. Joseph, but he was younger and had only a dark scrap of mustache. As he caught up the hair with a quick double twist he leaned very close to the woman's face, whispering with an expression that never changed, an expression like that of the wax heads in the show-case. He bent so low that Linda was certain their cheeks had touched. She pondered at length over this, gazing now at the man beyond and now at M. Joseph flitting with the cold-air tube about her mother; wondering if, when she grew older, she would like a hair-dresser's cheek against hers. Linda decided not. The idea didn't shock her, the woman in the other space plainly liked it; still she decided she wouldn't. A different kind of man, she told herself, would be nicer. Her thoughts were interrupted by a sharp, unpleasant odor--the odor of scorched hair; and she was absolutely rigid with horror at an agonized cry from her mother. "It's burning me terribly," the latter cried. "Oh, I can't stand it. Stop! Stop!" M. Joseph, as white as plaster, rushed to the wall and reversed the handle, and Mrs. Condon started from the chair, her face now streaming with actual tears; but before she could escape the man threw himself on her shoulders. "You mustn't move," he whispered desperately, "you'll tear your hair out. I tell you no harm's been done. Everything is all right. Please, please don't cry like that. It will ruin my business. There are others in the establishment. Stop!" he shook her viciously. Linda had risen, terrorized; and Mrs. Condon, with waving plucking hands, was sobbing an appeal to be released. "My head, my head," she repeated. "I assure you"--the man motioned to a pallid girl to hold her in the chair. With a towel to protect his hand he undid a screw, lifted off the cap and untwisted the cotton from a bound lock of hair; releasing it, in turn, from the spindle it fell forward in a complete corkscrew over Mrs. Condon's face. "Do you see!" he demanded. "Perfect. I give you my word they'll all be like that. The cursed heat ran up on me," he added in a swift aside to his assistant. "Has Mrs. Bellows gone? Who's still in the place? Here, loose that binding ... thank God, that one is all right, too." Together they unfastened most of the connections, and a growing fringe of long remarkable curls marked Mrs. Condon's pain-drawn and dabbled face. Linda sobbed uncontrollably; but perhaps, after all, nothing frightful had happened. Her poor mother! Then fear again tightened about her heart at the perturbed expression that overtook the hair-dresser. He was trying in vain to remove one of the caps. She caught enigmatic words--"the borax, crystallized ... solid. It would take a plumber ... have to go." The connection was immovable. Even in her suffering Mrs. Condon implored M. Joseph to save her hair. Nothing, however, could be done; he admitted it with pale lips. The thing might be chiseled off; in the end he tried to force a release and the strand, with a renewal of Mrs. Condon's agony--now, in the interest of her appearance, heroically withstood--snapped short in the container. Rapidly recovering her vigor, she launched on a tirade against M. Joseph and his permanent waving establishment--Linda had never before heard her mother talk in such a loud brutal manner, nor use such heated unpleasant words, and the girl was flooded with a wretched shame. Still another lock, it was revealed, had been ruined, and crumbled to mere dust in its owner's fingers. "The law will provide for you," she promised. "Your hair was dyed," the proprietor returned vindictively. "The girl who washed it will testify. Every one is warned against the permanent if their hair has been colored. So it was at your own risk." "My head's never been touched with dye," Mrs. Condon shrilly answered. "You lying little ape. And well does that young woman know it. She complimented me herself on a true blonde." The girl had, too, right before Linda. "You ought to be thrashed out of the city." "Your money will be given back to you," M. Joseph told her. Outside they found a taxi, and sped back to their hotel. Above, Mrs. Condon removed her hat; and, before the uncompromising mirror, studied her wrecked hair--a frizzled vacancy was directly over her left brow--and haggard face. When she finally turned to Linda, her manner, her words, were solemn. "I'm middle-aged," she said. A dreary silence enveloped them sitting in the dark reception-room while Mrs. Condon restlessly shredded unlighted cigarettes on the floor. She had made no effort to repair the damages to her appearance, and when the telephone bell sharply sounded, she reached out in a slovenly negligence of manner. Linda could hear a blurred articulation and her mother answering listlessly. The latter at last said: "Very well, at seven then; you'll stop for us." She hung up the receiver, stared blankly at Linda, and then went off into a harsh mirth. "Oh, my God!" she cried; "the old ladies' home!" XI With her mother away on a wedding-trip with Mr. Moses Feldt, Linda was suddenly projected into the companionship of his two daughters. One, as he had said, was light, but a different fairness from Mrs. Condon's--richly thick, like honey; while Judith, the elder, who must have been twenty, was dark in skin, in everything but her eyes, which were a contrasting ashen-violet. She spoke at once of Linda's flawless whiteness: "A magnolia," she said, in a deliberate dark voice; "you are quite a gorgeous child. Do you mind my saying that your clothes are rather quaint? They aren't inevitable, and yours ought to be that." They were at lunch in the Feldt dining-room, an interior of heavy ornately carved black wood, panels of Chinese embroidery in imperial yellow, and a neutral mauve carpet. The effect, with glittering iridescent pyramids of glass, massive frosted repouss silver, burnished gold-plate and a wide table decoration of orchids and fern, was tropical and intense. It was evident to Linda that the Feldts were very rich indeed. The entire apartment resembled the dining-room, while the building itself filled a whole city block, with a garden and fountains like an elaborate public square. Linda, however, wasn't particularly impressed by such show; she saw that Judith and Pansy had expected that of her; but she was determined not to exhibit a surprise that would imply any changes in her mother's and her condition. In addition, Linda calmly took such surroundings for granted. Her primary conception of possible existence was elegance; its necessity had so entered into her being that it

rested

How many times the word 'rested' appears in the text?

you with that chauffeur we have had so much. I positively forbid your leaving the hotel else. It's a comfort after all, that you are serious. Kiss mama--" However, she descended with her mother in the elevator; there was a more public caress; and the captain in the Chinese dining-room placed Linda at a small table against the wall. There she had clams--she adored iced clams--creamed shrimps and oysters with potatoes _bordure_, alligator-pear salad and a beautiful charlotte cream with black walnuts. After this she sedately instructed the captain what to sign on the back of the dinner check--Linda Condon, room five hundred and seven--placed thirty-five cents beside the finger-bowl for the waiter, and made her way out to the news stand and the talkative girl who had it in charge. Exhausting the possibilities of gossip, and deciding not to go out to the theatre--in spite of the news girl's exciting description of a play called "The New Sin"--she was walking irresolutely through the high gilded and marble assemblage space when, unfortunately, she was captured by Mr. Moses Feldt. VII He led her to a high-backed lounge against the wall, where, seated on its extreme edge, he gazed silently at her with an expression of sentimental concern. Mr. Moses Feldt was a short round man, bald but for a fluffy rim of pale hair, and with the palest imaginable eyes in a countenance perpetually flushed by the physical necessity of accommodating his rotundity to awkward edges and conditions. As usual he was dressed with the nicest care--a band of white linen laid in the opening of his waistcoat, his scarf ornamented by a pear-shaped pearl on a diamond finished stem; his cloth-topped varnished black shoes glistened, while his short fat fingers clasped a prodigious unlighted cigar. At last, in a tone exactly suited to his gaze, he exclaimed: "So that naughty mama has gone out again and deserted Moses and her little Linda!" In what way her mother had deserted Mr. Feldt she failed to understand. Of course he wanted to marry them--the comprehensive phrase was his own--but that didn't include him in whatever they did. Principally it made a joke for their private entertainment. Mrs. Condon would mimic his eager manner, "Stella, let me take you both home where you'll have the best in the land," And, "Ladies like you ought to have a loving protection." Linda would laugh in her cool bell-like manner, and her mother add a satirical comment on the chance any Moses Feldt had of marrying her. Linda at once found him ridiculous and a being who forced a slighting warmth of liking. His appearance was preposterous, the ready emotion often too foolish for words; but underneath there was a--a goodness, a mysterious quality that stirred her heart to recognition. Certain rare things in life and experience affected her like that memory of an old happiness. She could never say what they might be, they came at the oddest times and by the most extraordinary means; but at their occurrence she would thrill for a moment as if in response to a sound of music. It was, for example, absurd that Mr. Moses Feldt, who was a Jew, should make her feel like that, but he did. And all the while that she was disagreeable to him, or mocking him behind his back, she was as uncomfortable and "horrid" as possible. While this fact, of course, only served to make her horrider still. At present she adopted the manner of a patience that nothing could quite exhaust; she was polite and formal, relentlessly correct in position. Mr. Moses Feldt, the cigar in his grasp, pressed a hand to the probable region of his heart. "You don't know how I think of you," he protested, tears in his eyes; "just the idea of you exposed to anything at all in hotels keeps me awake nights. Now it's a drunk, or a fresh feller on the elevator, or--" "It's nice of you," Linda said, "but you needn't worry. No one would dare to bother us. No one ever has." "You wouldn't know it if they did," he replied despondently, "at your age. And then your mother is so trustful and pleasant. Take those parties where she is so much--roof frolics and cocoanut groves and submarine caf s; they don't come to any good. Rowdy." Linda studied him coldly; if he criticized them further she would leave. He mopped a shining brow with a large colorful silk handkerchief. "It throws me into a sweat," he admitted. "Really, Mr. Feldt, you mustn't bother," she told him in one of her few impulses of friendliness. "You see, we are very experienced." He nodded without visible happiness at this truth. "I'm a jackass!" he cried. "Judith tells me that all the time. If you could only see my daughters," he continued with a new vigor; "such lovely girls as they are. One dark like you and the other fair as a daisy. Judith and Pansy. And my home that darling mama made before she died." The handkerchief was again in evidence. "Women and girls are funny. I can't get you there and not for nothing will Judith make a step. It may be pride but it seems to me such nonsense. I guess I'm old-fashioned and love's old-fashioned. Homes have gone out of style with the rest. It's all these restaurants and roofs now, yes, and studios. I tell the girls to stay away from them and from artists and so on. I don't encourage them at the apartment--a big lump of a feller with platinum bracelets on his wrists. What kind of a man would that be! I'd like to know who'd buy goods from him. "Sometimes, I'm sorry I got a lot of money, but it made mama happy. When she laid there at the last sick and couldn't live, I said, 'Oh, if you only won't leave me I'll give you gold to eat.'" He was so moved, his face so red, that Linda grew acutely embarrassed. People were looking at them. She rose stiffly but, in spite of her effort to escape him, he caught both her hands in his: "You say I'm an old idiot like Judith," he begged. This Linda declined to do. And, "Ask your mother if you won't come to dinner with the girls and me, cozy and at home--just once." "I'm afraid it will do no good," she admitted; "but I'll try." She realized that he was about to kiss her and moved quickly back. "I am almost afraid of you," he told her; "you're so distant and elegant. Judith and Pansy would get on with you first rate. I'll telephone tomorrow, in the afternoon. If the last flowers I sent you came I never heard of it." She thanked him appropriately for the roses and stood, erect and impersonal, as a man in the hotel livery helped him into a coat. Mr. Moses Feldt waved the still unlighted cigar at her and disappeared through the rotating door to the street. She gave a half-affected sigh of relief. Couldn't he see that her mother would never marry him. At the same time the strange thrill touched her; the sense of his absurdity vanished and she no longer remembered him perched like a painted rubber ball on the edge of the lounge. In the somber red plush and varnished wood of the reception-room of their suite he seemed again charming. Perhaps it was because he, too, adored her mother. That wasn't the reason. The familiar rare joy lingered. It seemed now as though she were to capture and understand it ... there was the vibration of music; and then, as always, she felt at once sad and brave. But, in spite of her old effort to the contrary, the feeling died away. Some day it would be clear to her; in the meanwhile Mr. Moses Feldt became once more only ridiculous. VIII In the morning she was dressed and had returned from breakfast before her mother stirred. The latter moved sharply, brought an arm up over her head, and swore. It was a long while before she got up or spoke again, and Linda never remembered her in a worse temper. When, finally, she came into the room where the breakfast-tray was laid, Linda was inexpressibly shocked--all that her mother had dreaded about her appearance had come disastrously true. Her face was hung with shadows like smudges of dirt and her eyes were netted with lines. Examining the dishes with distaste she told Linda that positively she could slap her for letting them bring up orange-juice. "How often must I explain to you that it freezes my fingers." Linda replied that she had repeated this in the breakfast-room and perhaps they had the wrong order. Neither her mother nor she said anything more until Mrs. Condon had finished her coffee and started a second cigarette. Then Linda related something of Mr. Moses Feldt's call on the evening before. "He cried right into his handkerchief," she said, "until I thought I should sink." Mrs. Condon eyed her daughter speculatively. "Now if you were only four years older," she declared, "it would be a good thing. He was simply born to be a husband." Horror filled Linda at the other's implication. "Yes," the elder insisted; "you couldn't do better; except, perhaps, for those girls of his. But then you'd have no trouble making them miserable. It's time to talk to you seriously about marriage." The smoke from the cigarette eddied in a gray veil across her unrefreshed face. "You're old for your age, Linda; your life has made you that; and, like I said last night, it is rather better than not. Well, for you marriage, and soon as possible, is the proper thing. Mind, I have never said a word against it; only what suits one doesn't suit another. Where it wouldn't be anything more than an old ladies' home to me you need it early and plenty. You are too intense. That doesn't go in the world. Men don't like it. They want their pleasure and comfort without strings tied to them; the intensity has to be theirs. "What you must get through your head is that love--whatever it is--and marriage are two different things, and if you are going to be successful they must be kept separate. You can't do anything with a man if you love him; but then you can't do anything with him if he doesn't love you. That's the whole thing in a breath. I am not crying down love, either; only I don't want you to think it is the bread and butter while it's nothing more than those little sweet cakes at Henri's. "Now any girl who marries a poor man or for love--they are the same thing--is a fool and deserves what she gets. No one thanks her for it, him least of all; because if she does love him it is only to make them miserable. She's always at him--where did he go and why did he stay so long, and no matter what he says she knows it's a lie. More times than not she's right, too. I can't tell you too often--men don't want to be loved, they like to be flattered and flattered and then flattered again. You'd never believe how childish they are. "Make them think they're it and don't give too much--that's the secret. Above all else don't be easy on them. Don't say 'all right, darling, next spring will do as well for a new suit.' Get it then and let him worry about paying for it, if worry he must. If they don't give it to you some one smarter will wear it. But I started to talk about getting married. "Choose a Moses Feldt, who will always be grateful to you, and keep him at it. They are so easy to land it's a kind of shame, too. Perhaps I am telling you this too soon, but I don't want any mistakes. Well, pick out your Moses--and mama will help you there--and suddenly, at the right time, show him that you can be affectionate; surprise him with it and you so staid and particular generally. Don't overdo it, promise more than you ever give-- "In the closet, dearie, just a little. That's a good girl. Mama's so dry." She rose, the silver cup of the flask in her hand, and moved inevitably to the mirror. "My hair's a sight," she remarked; "all strings. I believe I'll get a permanent wave. They say it lasts for six months or more, till the ends grow out. Makes a lot of it, too, and holds the front together. If you've ever had dye in your hair, I hear, it will break off like grass." Linda pondered over what she had been told of love and marriage; on the whole the exposition had been unsatisfactory. The latter she was able to grasp, but her mother had admitted an inability exactly to fix love. One fact, apparently, was clear--it was a nuisance and a hindrance to happiness, or rather to success. Love upset things. Still she had the strongest objection possible to living forever with a man like Mr. Moses Feldt. At once all that she had hoped for from life grew flat and uninteresting. She had no doubt of her mother's correctness and wisdom; the world was like that; she must make the best of it. There was some telephoning, inquiries, and she heard the elder make an appointment with a hair-dresser for three that afternoon. She wondered what it would be like to have your hair permanently waved and hoped that she would see it done. This, too, she realized, was a part of the necessity of always considering men--they liked your hair to be wavy. Hers was as straight and stupid as possible. She, in turn, examined herself in a mirror: the black bang fell exactly to her eyebrows, her face had no color other than the carnation of her lips and her deep blue eyes. She moved away and critically studied her figure; inches and inches too thin, she decided. Undoubtedly her mother was right, and she must marry at the first opportunity--if she could find a man, a rich man, who was willing. Her thoughts returned vaguely to the mystery, the nuisance, of love. Surely she had heard something before, immensely important, about it, and totally different from all her mother had said. Her mind was filled with the fantastic image of a forest, of dangers, and a fat china figure with curled plumes, a nodding head, that brushed her with fear and disgust. A shuddering panic took possession of her, flashes burned before her eyes, and she ran gasping to the perfumed soft reassurances of her mother. IX In a recurrence of her surprising concern of the day before Mrs. Condon declined to leave her dearest Linda alone; and, their arms caught together in a surging affection, they walked down Fifth Avenue toward the hairdresser's. There was a diffused gray sparkle of sunlight--it was early for the throngs--through which they passed rapidly to the accompaniment of a rapid eager chatter. Linda wore a deep smooth camel's hair cape, over which her intense black hair poured like ink, and her face was shaded by a dipping green velvet hat. Her mother, in one of the tightly cut suits she affected, had never been more like a perfect companion. They saw, in the window of a store for men, a set of violent purple wool underwear, and barely escaped hysterics at the thought of Mr. Moses Feldt in such a garb. They giggled idiotically at the spectacle of a countryman fearfully making the sharp descent from the top of a lurching omnibus. And then, when they had reached the place of Mrs. Condon's appointment, stopped at the show of elaborately waved hair on wax heads and chose which, probably, would resemble the elder and which, in a very short while now, Linda. There was an impressive interior, furnished in gray panels and silvery wood; and the young woman at the desk was more surprisingly waved than anything they had yet seen. M. Joseph would be ready almost immediately; and in the meanwhile Mrs. Condon could lay aside her things in preparation for the hair to be washed. She did this while Linda followed every movement with the deepest interest. At the back of the long room was a succession of small alcoves, each with an important-looking chair and mirror and shelves, a white basin, water-taps and rubber tubes. Settled, in comfort, Mrs. Condon's hair was spread out in a bright metal tray fastened to the back of the chair, and the attendant, a moist tired girl in a careless waist, sprayed the short thick gold-colored strands. "My," she observed, "what some wouldn't give for your shade! Never been touched, I can see, either. A lady comes in with real Titian, but yours is more select. It positively is Lillian Russell." While she talked her hands sped with incredible rapidity and skill. "The gentlemen don't notice it; of course not; oh, no! There was a girl here, a true blonde, but she didn't stay long--her own car, yes, indeed. Married her right out of the establishment. There wasn't any nonsense to her. "So this is your little girl! I'd never have believed it. Not that she hasn't a great deal of style, a great deal--almost, you might say, like an Egyptian. In the movies last night; her all over. It's a type that will need studying. Bertha Kalich. But for me--" Already, Linda saw, this part of the operation was done. The girl wheeled into position a case that had a fan and ring of blue flickering flames, and a cupped tube through which hot air was poured over her mother's head. M. Joseph strutted in, a small carefully dressed man with a diminutive pointed gray beard and formal curled mustache. He spoke with what Linda supposed was a French accent, and his manners, at least to them, were beautiful. But because the girl had not put out the blue flames quickly enough he turned to her with a voice of quivering rage. It was so unexpected, in the middle of his bowing and smooth assurances, that Linda was startled, and had to think about him all over. The result of this was a surprising dislike; she hated, even, to see him touch her mother, as he unnecessarily did in directing them into the enclosure for the permanent wave. The place itself filled her with the faint horror of instruments and the unknown. Above the chair where Mrs. Condon now sat there was a circle in the ceiling like the base of a chandelier and hanging down from it on twisted green wires were a great number of the strangest things imaginable: they were as thick as her wrist, but round, longer and hollow, white china inside and covered with brown wrapping. The wires of each, she discovered, led over a little wheel and down again to a swinging clock-like weight. In addition to this there were strange depressing handles on the wall by a dial with a jiggling needle and clearly marked numbers. The skill of the girl who had washed her mother's hair, however, was slight compared with M. Joseph's dexterity. The comb flashed in his white narrow hands; in no time at all every knot was urged out into a shining smoothness. "Just the front?" he inquired. Not waiting for Mrs. Condon's reply, he detached a strand from the mass over her brow, impaled it on a hairpin, while he picked up what might have been a thick steel knitting-needle with one end fastened in the middle of a silver quarter. The latter, it developed, had a hole in it, through which he drew the strand of hair, and then wrapped it with an angry tightness about the long projection. At this exact moment a new girl, but tired and moist, appeared, took a hank of white threads from a dressing-table, and tied that separate lock firmly. This, Linda counted, was repeated fifteen times; and when it was accomplished she was unable to repress a nervous laughter. Really, her mother looked too queer for words: the long rigid projections stood out all over her head like--like a huge pincushion; no, it was a porcupine. Mrs. Condon smiled in uncertain recognition of her daughter's mirth. Then Linda's attention followed M. Joseph to a table against a partition, where he secured a white cotton strip from a film of them soaking in a shallow tray, took up some white powder on the blade of a dessert knife and transferred it to the strip. This he wrapped and wrapped about the hair fastened on a spindle, tied it in turn, and dragged down one of the brown objects on wires, which, to Linda's great astonishment, fitted precisely over the cotton-bound hair. Again, fifteen times, M. Joseph did this, fastening each connection with the turn of a screw. When so much was accomplished her mother's hair, it seemed, had grown fast to the ceiling in a tangle of green ends. It was the most terrifying spectacle Linda had ever witnessed. Obscure thoughts of torture, of criminals executed by electricity, froze her in a set apprehension. The hair-dresser stepped over to the dials on the wall, and, with a sharp comprehensive glance at his apparatus, moved a handle as far as it would go. Nothing immediately happened, and Linda gave a relaxing sigh of relief. M. Joseph, however, became full of a painful attention. X He brought into view an unsuspected tube, with a cone of paper at its end, and bent over her mother, directing a stream of cold air against her head. "How do you feel?" he asked, with, Linda noticed, a startling loss of his first accent. Mrs. Condon so far felt well enough. Then, before Linda's startled gaze, every single one of the fifteen imprisoning tubes began to steam with an extraordinary vigor; not only did they steam, like teapots, but drops of water formed and slowly slid over her mother's face. If the process appeared weird at the beginning, now it was utterly fantastic. The little white vapor spurts played about Mrs. Condon's dripping countenance; they increased rather than diminished; actually it resembled a wrecked locomotive she had once seen. "How are you?" M. Joseph demanded nervously. "Is it hot anywhere?" With a sudden gesture she replied in a shaking voice, "Here." Instantly he was holding the paper cone with its cold air against her scalp, and the heat was subdued. He glanced nervously at his watch, and Mrs. Condon managed to ask, "How long?" "Twenty minutes." Dangerous as the whole proceeding seemed nothing really happened, and Linda's fears gradually faded into a mere curiosity and interest. A curtain hung across the door to the rest of the establishment, but it had been brushed partly aside; and she could see, in the compartment they had vacated, another man bending with waving irons over the liberated mass of a woman's hair. He was very much like M. Joseph, but he was younger and had only a dark scrap of mustache. As he caught up the hair with a quick double twist he leaned very close to the woman's face, whispering with an expression that never changed, an expression like that of the wax heads in the show-case. He bent so low that Linda was certain their cheeks had touched. She pondered at length over this, gazing now at the man beyond and now at M. Joseph flitting with the cold-air tube about her mother; wondering if, when she grew older, she would like a hair-dresser's cheek against hers. Linda decided not. The idea didn't shock her, the woman in the other space plainly liked it; still she decided she wouldn't. A different kind of man, she told herself, would be nicer. Her thoughts were interrupted by a sharp, unpleasant odor--the odor of scorched hair; and she was absolutely rigid with horror at an agonized cry from her mother. "It's burning me terribly," the latter cried. "Oh, I can't stand it. Stop! Stop!" M. Joseph, as white as plaster, rushed to the wall and reversed the handle, and Mrs. Condon started from the chair, her face now streaming with actual tears; but before she could escape the man threw himself on her shoulders. "You mustn't move," he whispered desperately, "you'll tear your hair out. I tell you no harm's been done. Everything is all right. Please, please don't cry like that. It will ruin my business. There are others in the establishment. Stop!" he shook her viciously. Linda had risen, terrorized; and Mrs. Condon, with waving plucking hands, was sobbing an appeal to be released. "My head, my head," she repeated. "I assure you"--the man motioned to a pallid girl to hold her in the chair. With a towel to protect his hand he undid a screw, lifted off the cap and untwisted the cotton from a bound lock of hair; releasing it, in turn, from the spindle it fell forward in a complete corkscrew over Mrs. Condon's face. "Do you see!" he demanded. "Perfect. I give you my word they'll all be like that. The cursed heat ran up on me," he added in a swift aside to his assistant. "Has Mrs. Bellows gone? Who's still in the place? Here, loose that binding ... thank God, that one is all right, too." Together they unfastened most of the connections, and a growing fringe of long remarkable curls marked Mrs. Condon's pain-drawn and dabbled face. Linda sobbed uncontrollably; but perhaps, after all, nothing frightful had happened. Her poor mother! Then fear again tightened about her heart at the perturbed expression that overtook the hair-dresser. He was trying in vain to remove one of the caps. She caught enigmatic words--"the borax, crystallized ... solid. It would take a plumber ... have to go." The connection was immovable. Even in her suffering Mrs. Condon implored M. Joseph to save her hair. Nothing, however, could be done; he admitted it with pale lips. The thing might be chiseled off; in the end he tried to force a release and the strand, with a renewal of Mrs. Condon's agony--now, in the interest of her appearance, heroically withstood--snapped short in the container. Rapidly recovering her vigor, she launched on a tirade against M. Joseph and his permanent waving establishment--Linda had never before heard her mother talk in such a loud brutal manner, nor use such heated unpleasant words, and the girl was flooded with a wretched shame. Still another lock, it was revealed, had been ruined, and crumbled to mere dust in its owner's fingers. "The law will provide for you," she promised. "Your hair was dyed," the proprietor returned vindictively. "The girl who washed it will testify. Every one is warned against the permanent if their hair has been colored. So it was at your own risk." "My head's never been touched with dye," Mrs. Condon shrilly answered. "You lying little ape. And well does that young woman know it. She complimented me herself on a true blonde." The girl had, too, right before Linda. "You ought to be thrashed out of the city." "Your money will be given back to you," M. Joseph told her. Outside they found a taxi, and sped back to their hotel. Above, Mrs. Condon removed her hat; and, before the uncompromising mirror, studied her wrecked hair--a frizzled vacancy was directly over her left brow--and haggard face. When she finally turned to Linda, her manner, her words, were solemn. "I'm middle-aged," she said. A dreary silence enveloped them sitting in the dark reception-room while Mrs. Condon restlessly shredded unlighted cigarettes on the floor. She had made no effort to repair the damages to her appearance, and when the telephone bell sharply sounded, she reached out in a slovenly negligence of manner. Linda could hear a blurred articulation and her mother answering listlessly. The latter at last said: "Very well, at seven then; you'll stop for us." She hung up the receiver, stared blankly at Linda, and then went off into a harsh mirth. "Oh, my God!" she cried; "the old ladies' home!" XI With her mother away on a wedding-trip with Mr. Moses Feldt, Linda was suddenly projected into the companionship of his two daughters. One, as he had said, was light, but a different fairness from Mrs. Condon's--richly thick, like honey; while Judith, the elder, who must have been twenty, was dark in skin, in everything but her eyes, which were a contrasting ashen-violet. She spoke at once of Linda's flawless whiteness: "A magnolia," she said, in a deliberate dark voice; "you are quite a gorgeous child. Do you mind my saying that your clothes are rather quaint? They aren't inevitable, and yours ought to be that." They were at lunch in the Feldt dining-room, an interior of heavy ornately carved black wood, panels of Chinese embroidery in imperial yellow, and a neutral mauve carpet. The effect, with glittering iridescent pyramids of glass, massive frosted repouss silver, burnished gold-plate and a wide table decoration of orchids and fern, was tropical and intense. It was evident to Linda that the Feldts were very rich indeed. The entire apartment resembled the dining-room, while the building itself filled a whole city block, with a garden and fountains like an elaborate public square. Linda, however, wasn't particularly impressed by such show; she saw that Judith and Pansy had expected that of her; but she was determined not to exhibit a surprise that would imply any changes in her mother's and her condition. In addition, Linda calmly took such surroundings for granted. Her primary conception of possible existence was elegance; its necessity had so entered into her being that it

judith

How many times the word 'judith' appears in the text?

you with that chauffeur we have had so much. I positively forbid your leaving the hotel else. It's a comfort after all, that you are serious. Kiss mama--" However, she descended with her mother in the elevator; there was a more public caress; and the captain in the Chinese dining-room placed Linda at a small table against the wall. There she had clams--she adored iced clams--creamed shrimps and oysters with potatoes _bordure_, alligator-pear salad and a beautiful charlotte cream with black walnuts. After this she sedately instructed the captain what to sign on the back of the dinner check--Linda Condon, room five hundred and seven--placed thirty-five cents beside the finger-bowl for the waiter, and made her way out to the news stand and the talkative girl who had it in charge. Exhausting the possibilities of gossip, and deciding not to go out to the theatre--in spite of the news girl's exciting description of a play called "The New Sin"--she was walking irresolutely through the high gilded and marble assemblage space when, unfortunately, she was captured by Mr. Moses Feldt. VII He led her to a high-backed lounge against the wall, where, seated on its extreme edge, he gazed silently at her with an expression of sentimental concern. Mr. Moses Feldt was a short round man, bald but for a fluffy rim of pale hair, and with the palest imaginable eyes in a countenance perpetually flushed by the physical necessity of accommodating his rotundity to awkward edges and conditions. As usual he was dressed with the nicest care--a band of white linen laid in the opening of his waistcoat, his scarf ornamented by a pear-shaped pearl on a diamond finished stem; his cloth-topped varnished black shoes glistened, while his short fat fingers clasped a prodigious unlighted cigar. At last, in a tone exactly suited to his gaze, he exclaimed: "So that naughty mama has gone out again and deserted Moses and her little Linda!" In what way her mother had deserted Mr. Feldt she failed to understand. Of course he wanted to marry them--the comprehensive phrase was his own--but that didn't include him in whatever they did. Principally it made a joke for their private entertainment. Mrs. Condon would mimic his eager manner, "Stella, let me take you both home where you'll have the best in the land," And, "Ladies like you ought to have a loving protection." Linda would laugh in her cool bell-like manner, and her mother add a satirical comment on the chance any Moses Feldt had of marrying her. Linda at once found him ridiculous and a being who forced a slighting warmth of liking. His appearance was preposterous, the ready emotion often too foolish for words; but underneath there was a--a goodness, a mysterious quality that stirred her heart to recognition. Certain rare things in life and experience affected her like that memory of an old happiness. She could never say what they might be, they came at the oddest times and by the most extraordinary means; but at their occurrence she would thrill for a moment as if in response to a sound of music. It was, for example, absurd that Mr. Moses Feldt, who was a Jew, should make her feel like that, but he did. And all the while that she was disagreeable to him, or mocking him behind his back, she was as uncomfortable and "horrid" as possible. While this fact, of course, only served to make her horrider still. At present she adopted the manner of a patience that nothing could quite exhaust; she was polite and formal, relentlessly correct in position. Mr. Moses Feldt, the cigar in his grasp, pressed a hand to the probable region of his heart. "You don't know how I think of you," he protested, tears in his eyes; "just the idea of you exposed to anything at all in hotels keeps me awake nights. Now it's a drunk, or a fresh feller on the elevator, or--" "It's nice of you," Linda said, "but you needn't worry. No one would dare to bother us. No one ever has." "You wouldn't know it if they did," he replied despondently, "at your age. And then your mother is so trustful and pleasant. Take those parties where she is so much--roof frolics and cocoanut groves and submarine caf s; they don't come to any good. Rowdy." Linda studied him coldly; if he criticized them further she would leave. He mopped a shining brow with a large colorful silk handkerchief. "It throws me into a sweat," he admitted. "Really, Mr. Feldt, you mustn't bother," she told him in one of her few impulses of friendliness. "You see, we are very experienced." He nodded without visible happiness at this truth. "I'm a jackass!" he cried. "Judith tells me that all the time. If you could only see my daughters," he continued with a new vigor; "such lovely girls as they are. One dark like you and the other fair as a daisy. Judith and Pansy. And my home that darling mama made before she died." The handkerchief was again in evidence. "Women and girls are funny. I can't get you there and not for nothing will Judith make a step. It may be pride but it seems to me such nonsense. I guess I'm old-fashioned and love's old-fashioned. Homes have gone out of style with the rest. It's all these restaurants and roofs now, yes, and studios. I tell the girls to stay away from them and from artists and so on. I don't encourage them at the apartment--a big lump of a feller with platinum bracelets on his wrists. What kind of a man would that be! I'd like to know who'd buy goods from him. "Sometimes, I'm sorry I got a lot of money, but it made mama happy. When she laid there at the last sick and couldn't live, I said, 'Oh, if you only won't leave me I'll give you gold to eat.'" He was so moved, his face so red, that Linda grew acutely embarrassed. People were looking at them. She rose stiffly but, in spite of her effort to escape him, he caught both her hands in his: "You say I'm an old idiot like Judith," he begged. This Linda declined to do. And, "Ask your mother if you won't come to dinner with the girls and me, cozy and at home--just once." "I'm afraid it will do no good," she admitted; "but I'll try." She realized that he was about to kiss her and moved quickly back. "I am almost afraid of you," he told her; "you're so distant and elegant. Judith and Pansy would get on with you first rate. I'll telephone tomorrow, in the afternoon. If the last flowers I sent you came I never heard of it." She thanked him appropriately for the roses and stood, erect and impersonal, as a man in the hotel livery helped him into a coat. Mr. Moses Feldt waved the still unlighted cigar at her and disappeared through the rotating door to the street. She gave a half-affected sigh of relief. Couldn't he see that her mother would never marry him. At the same time the strange thrill touched her; the sense of his absurdity vanished and she no longer remembered him perched like a painted rubber ball on the edge of the lounge. In the somber red plush and varnished wood of the reception-room of their suite he seemed again charming. Perhaps it was because he, too, adored her mother. That wasn't the reason. The familiar rare joy lingered. It seemed now as though she were to capture and understand it ... there was the vibration of music; and then, as always, she felt at once sad and brave. But, in spite of her old effort to the contrary, the feeling died away. Some day it would be clear to her; in the meanwhile Mr. Moses Feldt became once more only ridiculous. VIII In the morning she was dressed and had returned from breakfast before her mother stirred. The latter moved sharply, brought an arm up over her head, and swore. It was a long while before she got up or spoke again, and Linda never remembered her in a worse temper. When, finally, she came into the room where the breakfast-tray was laid, Linda was inexpressibly shocked--all that her mother had dreaded about her appearance had come disastrously true. Her face was hung with shadows like smudges of dirt and her eyes were netted with lines. Examining the dishes with distaste she told Linda that positively she could slap her for letting them bring up orange-juice. "How often must I explain to you that it freezes my fingers." Linda replied that she had repeated this in the breakfast-room and perhaps they had the wrong order. Neither her mother nor she said anything more until Mrs. Condon had finished her coffee and started a second cigarette. Then Linda related something of Mr. Moses Feldt's call on the evening before. "He cried right into his handkerchief," she said, "until I thought I should sink." Mrs. Condon eyed her daughter speculatively. "Now if you were only four years older," she declared, "it would be a good thing. He was simply born to be a husband." Horror filled Linda at the other's implication. "Yes," the elder insisted; "you couldn't do better; except, perhaps, for those girls of his. But then you'd have no trouble making them miserable. It's time to talk to you seriously about marriage." The smoke from the cigarette eddied in a gray veil across her unrefreshed face. "You're old for your age, Linda; your life has made you that; and, like I said last night, it is rather better than not. Well, for you marriage, and soon as possible, is the proper thing. Mind, I have never said a word against it; only what suits one doesn't suit another. Where it wouldn't be anything more than an old ladies' home to me you need it early and plenty. You are too intense. That doesn't go in the world. Men don't like it. They want their pleasure and comfort without strings tied to them; the intensity has to be theirs. "What you must get through your head is that love--whatever it is--and marriage are two different things, and if you are going to be successful they must be kept separate. You can't do anything with a man if you love him; but then you can't do anything with him if he doesn't love you. That's the whole thing in a breath. I am not crying down love, either; only I don't want you to think it is the bread and butter while it's nothing more than those little sweet cakes at Henri's. "Now any girl who marries a poor man or for love--they are the same thing--is a fool and deserves what she gets. No one thanks her for it, him least of all; because if she does love him it is only to make them miserable. She's always at him--where did he go and why did he stay so long, and no matter what he says she knows it's a lie. More times than not she's right, too. I can't tell you too often--men don't want to be loved, they like to be flattered and flattered and then flattered again. You'd never believe how childish they are. "Make them think they're it and don't give too much--that's the secret. Above all else don't be easy on them. Don't say 'all right, darling, next spring will do as well for a new suit.' Get it then and let him worry about paying for it, if worry he must. If they don't give it to you some one smarter will wear it. But I started to talk about getting married. "Choose a Moses Feldt, who will always be grateful to you, and keep him at it. They are so easy to land it's a kind of shame, too. Perhaps I am telling you this too soon, but I don't want any mistakes. Well, pick out your Moses--and mama will help you there--and suddenly, at the right time, show him that you can be affectionate; surprise him with it and you so staid and particular generally. Don't overdo it, promise more than you ever give-- "In the closet, dearie, just a little. That's a good girl. Mama's so dry." She rose, the silver cup of the flask in her hand, and moved inevitably to the mirror. "My hair's a sight," she remarked; "all strings. I believe I'll get a permanent wave. They say it lasts for six months or more, till the ends grow out. Makes a lot of it, too, and holds the front together. If you've ever had dye in your hair, I hear, it will break off like grass." Linda pondered over what she had been told of love and marriage; on the whole the exposition had been unsatisfactory. The latter she was able to grasp, but her mother had admitted an inability exactly to fix love. One fact, apparently, was clear--it was a nuisance and a hindrance to happiness, or rather to success. Love upset things. Still she had the strongest objection possible to living forever with a man like Mr. Moses Feldt. At once all that she had hoped for from life grew flat and uninteresting. She had no doubt of her mother's correctness and wisdom; the world was like that; she must make the best of it. There was some telephoning, inquiries, and she heard the elder make an appointment with a hair-dresser for three that afternoon. She wondered what it would be like to have your hair permanently waved and hoped that she would see it done. This, too, she realized, was a part of the necessity of always considering men--they liked your hair to be wavy. Hers was as straight and stupid as possible. She, in turn, examined herself in a mirror: the black bang fell exactly to her eyebrows, her face had no color other than the carnation of her lips and her deep blue eyes. She moved away and critically studied her figure; inches and inches too thin, she decided. Undoubtedly her mother was right, and she must marry at the first opportunity--if she could find a man, a rich man, who was willing. Her thoughts returned vaguely to the mystery, the nuisance, of love. Surely she had heard something before, immensely important, about it, and totally different from all her mother had said. Her mind was filled with the fantastic image of a forest, of dangers, and a fat china figure with curled plumes, a nodding head, that brushed her with fear and disgust. A shuddering panic took possession of her, flashes burned before her eyes, and she ran gasping to the perfumed soft reassurances of her mother. IX In a recurrence of her surprising concern of the day before Mrs. Condon declined to leave her dearest Linda alone; and, their arms caught together in a surging affection, they walked down Fifth Avenue toward the hairdresser's. There was a diffused gray sparkle of sunlight--it was early for the throngs--through which they passed rapidly to the accompaniment of a rapid eager chatter. Linda wore a deep smooth camel's hair cape, over which her intense black hair poured like ink, and her face was shaded by a dipping green velvet hat. Her mother, in one of the tightly cut suits she affected, had never been more like a perfect companion. They saw, in the window of a store for men, a set of violent purple wool underwear, and barely escaped hysterics at the thought of Mr. Moses Feldt in such a garb. They giggled idiotically at the spectacle of a countryman fearfully making the sharp descent from the top of a lurching omnibus. And then, when they had reached the place of Mrs. Condon's appointment, stopped at the show of elaborately waved hair on wax heads and chose which, probably, would resemble the elder and which, in a very short while now, Linda. There was an impressive interior, furnished in gray panels and silvery wood; and the young woman at the desk was more surprisingly waved than anything they had yet seen. M. Joseph would be ready almost immediately; and in the meanwhile Mrs. Condon could lay aside her things in preparation for the hair to be washed. She did this while Linda followed every movement with the deepest interest. At the back of the long room was a succession of small alcoves, each with an important-looking chair and mirror and shelves, a white basin, water-taps and rubber tubes. Settled, in comfort, Mrs. Condon's hair was spread out in a bright metal tray fastened to the back of the chair, and the attendant, a moist tired girl in a careless waist, sprayed the short thick gold-colored strands. "My," she observed, "what some wouldn't give for your shade! Never been touched, I can see, either. A lady comes in with real Titian, but yours is more select. It positively is Lillian Russell." While she talked her hands sped with incredible rapidity and skill. "The gentlemen don't notice it; of course not; oh, no! There was a girl here, a true blonde, but she didn't stay long--her own car, yes, indeed. Married her right out of the establishment. There wasn't any nonsense to her. "So this is your little girl! I'd never have believed it. Not that she hasn't a great deal of style, a great deal--almost, you might say, like an Egyptian. In the movies last night; her all over. It's a type that will need studying. Bertha Kalich. But for me--" Already, Linda saw, this part of the operation was done. The girl wheeled into position a case that had a fan and ring of blue flickering flames, and a cupped tube through which hot air was poured over her mother's head. M. Joseph strutted in, a small carefully dressed man with a diminutive pointed gray beard and formal curled mustache. He spoke with what Linda supposed was a French accent, and his manners, at least to them, were beautiful. But because the girl had not put out the blue flames quickly enough he turned to her with a voice of quivering rage. It was so unexpected, in the middle of his bowing and smooth assurances, that Linda was startled, and had to think about him all over. The result of this was a surprising dislike; she hated, even, to see him touch her mother, as he unnecessarily did in directing them into the enclosure for the permanent wave. The place itself filled her with the faint horror of instruments and the unknown. Above the chair where Mrs. Condon now sat there was a circle in the ceiling like the base of a chandelier and hanging down from it on twisted green wires were a great number of the strangest things imaginable: they were as thick as her wrist, but round, longer and hollow, white china inside and covered with brown wrapping. The wires of each, she discovered, led over a little wheel and down again to a swinging clock-like weight. In addition to this there were strange depressing handles on the wall by a dial with a jiggling needle and clearly marked numbers. The skill of the girl who had washed her mother's hair, however, was slight compared with M. Joseph's dexterity. The comb flashed in his white narrow hands; in no time at all every knot was urged out into a shining smoothness. "Just the front?" he inquired. Not waiting for Mrs. Condon's reply, he detached a strand from the mass over her brow, impaled it on a hairpin, while he picked up what might have been a thick steel knitting-needle with one end fastened in the middle of a silver quarter. The latter, it developed, had a hole in it, through which he drew the strand of hair, and then wrapped it with an angry tightness about the long projection. At this exact moment a new girl, but tired and moist, appeared, took a hank of white threads from a dressing-table, and tied that separate lock firmly. This, Linda counted, was repeated fifteen times; and when it was accomplished she was unable to repress a nervous laughter. Really, her mother looked too queer for words: the long rigid projections stood out all over her head like--like a huge pincushion; no, it was a porcupine. Mrs. Condon smiled in uncertain recognition of her daughter's mirth. Then Linda's attention followed M. Joseph to a table against a partition, where he secured a white cotton strip from a film of them soaking in a shallow tray, took up some white powder on the blade of a dessert knife and transferred it to the strip. This he wrapped and wrapped about the hair fastened on a spindle, tied it in turn, and dragged down one of the brown objects on wires, which, to Linda's great astonishment, fitted precisely over the cotton-bound hair. Again, fifteen times, M. Joseph did this, fastening each connection with the turn of a screw. When so much was accomplished her mother's hair, it seemed, had grown fast to the ceiling in a tangle of green ends. It was the most terrifying spectacle Linda had ever witnessed. Obscure thoughts of torture, of criminals executed by electricity, froze her in a set apprehension. The hair-dresser stepped over to the dials on the wall, and, with a sharp comprehensive glance at his apparatus, moved a handle as far as it would go. Nothing immediately happened, and Linda gave a relaxing sigh of relief. M. Joseph, however, became full of a painful attention. X He brought into view an unsuspected tube, with a cone of paper at its end, and bent over her mother, directing a stream of cold air against her head. "How do you feel?" he asked, with, Linda noticed, a startling loss of his first accent. Mrs. Condon so far felt well enough. Then, before Linda's startled gaze, every single one of the fifteen imprisoning tubes began to steam with an extraordinary vigor; not only did they steam, like teapots, but drops of water formed and slowly slid over her mother's face. If the process appeared weird at the beginning, now it was utterly fantastic. The little white vapor spurts played about Mrs. Condon's dripping countenance; they increased rather than diminished; actually it resembled a wrecked locomotive she had once seen. "How are you?" M. Joseph demanded nervously. "Is it hot anywhere?" With a sudden gesture she replied in a shaking voice, "Here." Instantly he was holding the paper cone with its cold air against her scalp, and the heat was subdued. He glanced nervously at his watch, and Mrs. Condon managed to ask, "How long?" "Twenty minutes." Dangerous as the whole proceeding seemed nothing really happened, and Linda's fears gradually faded into a mere curiosity and interest. A curtain hung across the door to the rest of the establishment, but it had been brushed partly aside; and she could see, in the compartment they had vacated, another man bending with waving irons over the liberated mass of a woman's hair. He was very much like M. Joseph, but he was younger and had only a dark scrap of mustache. As he caught up the hair with a quick double twist he leaned very close to the woman's face, whispering with an expression that never changed, an expression like that of the wax heads in the show-case. He bent so low that Linda was certain their cheeks had touched. She pondered at length over this, gazing now at the man beyond and now at M. Joseph flitting with the cold-air tube about her mother; wondering if, when she grew older, she would like a hair-dresser's cheek against hers. Linda decided not. The idea didn't shock her, the woman in the other space plainly liked it; still she decided she wouldn't. A different kind of man, she told herself, would be nicer. Her thoughts were interrupted by a sharp, unpleasant odor--the odor of scorched hair; and she was absolutely rigid with horror at an agonized cry from her mother. "It's burning me terribly," the latter cried. "Oh, I can't stand it. Stop! Stop!" M. Joseph, as white as plaster, rushed to the wall and reversed the handle, and Mrs. Condon started from the chair, her face now streaming with actual tears; but before she could escape the man threw himself on her shoulders. "You mustn't move," he whispered desperately, "you'll tear your hair out. I tell you no harm's been done. Everything is all right. Please, please don't cry like that. It will ruin my business. There are others in the establishment. Stop!" he shook her viciously. Linda had risen, terrorized; and Mrs. Condon, with waving plucking hands, was sobbing an appeal to be released. "My head, my head," she repeated. "I assure you"--the man motioned to a pallid girl to hold her in the chair. With a towel to protect his hand he undid a screw, lifted off the cap and untwisted the cotton from a bound lock of hair; releasing it, in turn, from the spindle it fell forward in a complete corkscrew over Mrs. Condon's face. "Do you see!" he demanded. "Perfect. I give you my word they'll all be like that. The cursed heat ran up on me," he added in a swift aside to his assistant. "Has Mrs. Bellows gone? Who's still in the place? Here, loose that binding ... thank God, that one is all right, too." Together they unfastened most of the connections, and a growing fringe of long remarkable curls marked Mrs. Condon's pain-drawn and dabbled face. Linda sobbed uncontrollably; but perhaps, after all, nothing frightful had happened. Her poor mother! Then fear again tightened about her heart at the perturbed expression that overtook the hair-dresser. He was trying in vain to remove one of the caps. She caught enigmatic words--"the borax, crystallized ... solid. It would take a plumber ... have to go." The connection was immovable. Even in her suffering Mrs. Condon implored M. Joseph to save her hair. Nothing, however, could be done; he admitted it with pale lips. The thing might be chiseled off; in the end he tried to force a release and the strand, with a renewal of Mrs. Condon's agony--now, in the interest of her appearance, heroically withstood--snapped short in the container. Rapidly recovering her vigor, she launched on a tirade against M. Joseph and his permanent waving establishment--Linda had never before heard her mother talk in such a loud brutal manner, nor use such heated unpleasant words, and the girl was flooded with a wretched shame. Still another lock, it was revealed, had been ruined, and crumbled to mere dust in its owner's fingers. "The law will provide for you," she promised. "Your hair was dyed," the proprietor returned vindictively. "The girl who washed it will testify. Every one is warned against the permanent if their hair has been colored. So it was at your own risk." "My head's never been touched with dye," Mrs. Condon shrilly answered. "You lying little ape. And well does that young woman know it. She complimented me herself on a true blonde." The girl had, too, right before Linda. "You ought to be thrashed out of the city." "Your money will be given back to you," M. Joseph told her. Outside they found a taxi, and sped back to their hotel. Above, Mrs. Condon removed her hat; and, before the uncompromising mirror, studied her wrecked hair--a frizzled vacancy was directly over her left brow--and haggard face. When she finally turned to Linda, her manner, her words, were solemn. "I'm middle-aged," she said. A dreary silence enveloped them sitting in the dark reception-room while Mrs. Condon restlessly shredded unlighted cigarettes on the floor. She had made no effort to repair the damages to her appearance, and when the telephone bell sharply sounded, she reached out in a slovenly negligence of manner. Linda could hear a blurred articulation and her mother answering listlessly. The latter at last said: "Very well, at seven then; you'll stop for us." She hung up the receiver, stared blankly at Linda, and then went off into a harsh mirth. "Oh, my God!" she cried; "the old ladies' home!" XI With her mother away on a wedding-trip with Mr. Moses Feldt, Linda was suddenly projected into the companionship of his two daughters. One, as he had said, was light, but a different fairness from Mrs. Condon's--richly thick, like honey; while Judith, the elder, who must have been twenty, was dark in skin, in everything but her eyes, which were a contrasting ashen-violet. She spoke at once of Linda's flawless whiteness: "A magnolia," she said, in a deliberate dark voice; "you are quite a gorgeous child. Do you mind my saying that your clothes are rather quaint? They aren't inevitable, and yours ought to be that." They were at lunch in the Feldt dining-room, an interior of heavy ornately carved black wood, panels of Chinese embroidery in imperial yellow, and a neutral mauve carpet. The effect, with glittering iridescent pyramids of glass, massive frosted repouss silver, burnished gold-plate and a wide table decoration of orchids and fern, was tropical and intense. It was evident to Linda that the Feldts were very rich indeed. The entire apartment resembled the dining-room, while the building itself filled a whole city block, with a garden and fountains like an elaborate public square. Linda, however, wasn't particularly impressed by such show; she saw that Judith and Pansy had expected that of her; but she was determined not to exhibit a surprise that would imply any changes in her mother's and her condition. In addition, Linda calmly took such surroundings for granted. Her primary conception of possible existence was elegance; its necessity had so entered into her being that it

walking

How many times the word 'walking' appears in the text?

you with that chauffeur we have had so much. I positively forbid your leaving the hotel else. It's a comfort after all, that you are serious. Kiss mama--" However, she descended with her mother in the elevator; there was a more public caress; and the captain in the Chinese dining-room placed Linda at a small table against the wall. There she had clams--she adored iced clams--creamed shrimps and oysters with potatoes _bordure_, alligator-pear salad and a beautiful charlotte cream with black walnuts. After this she sedately instructed the captain what to sign on the back of the dinner check--Linda Condon, room five hundred and seven--placed thirty-five cents beside the finger-bowl for the waiter, and made her way out to the news stand and the talkative girl who had it in charge. Exhausting the possibilities of gossip, and deciding not to go out to the theatre--in spite of the news girl's exciting description of a play called "The New Sin"--she was walking irresolutely through the high gilded and marble assemblage space when, unfortunately, she was captured by Mr. Moses Feldt. VII He led her to a high-backed lounge against the wall, where, seated on its extreme edge, he gazed silently at her with an expression of sentimental concern. Mr. Moses Feldt was a short round man, bald but for a fluffy rim of pale hair, and with the palest imaginable eyes in a countenance perpetually flushed by the physical necessity of accommodating his rotundity to awkward edges and conditions. As usual he was dressed with the nicest care--a band of white linen laid in the opening of his waistcoat, his scarf ornamented by a pear-shaped pearl on a diamond finished stem; his cloth-topped varnished black shoes glistened, while his short fat fingers clasped a prodigious unlighted cigar. At last, in a tone exactly suited to his gaze, he exclaimed: "So that naughty mama has gone out again and deserted Moses and her little Linda!" In what way her mother had deserted Mr. Feldt she failed to understand. Of course he wanted to marry them--the comprehensive phrase was his own--but that didn't include him in whatever they did. Principally it made a joke for their private entertainment. Mrs. Condon would mimic his eager manner, "Stella, let me take you both home where you'll have the best in the land," And, "Ladies like you ought to have a loving protection." Linda would laugh in her cool bell-like manner, and her mother add a satirical comment on the chance any Moses Feldt had of marrying her. Linda at once found him ridiculous and a being who forced a slighting warmth of liking. His appearance was preposterous, the ready emotion often too foolish for words; but underneath there was a--a goodness, a mysterious quality that stirred her heart to recognition. Certain rare things in life and experience affected her like that memory of an old happiness. She could never say what they might be, they came at the oddest times and by the most extraordinary means; but at their occurrence she would thrill for a moment as if in response to a sound of music. It was, for example, absurd that Mr. Moses Feldt, who was a Jew, should make her feel like that, but he did. And all the while that she was disagreeable to him, or mocking him behind his back, she was as uncomfortable and "horrid" as possible. While this fact, of course, only served to make her horrider still. At present she adopted the manner of a patience that nothing could quite exhaust; she was polite and formal, relentlessly correct in position. Mr. Moses Feldt, the cigar in his grasp, pressed a hand to the probable region of his heart. "You don't know how I think of you," he protested, tears in his eyes; "just the idea of you exposed to anything at all in hotels keeps me awake nights. Now it's a drunk, or a fresh feller on the elevator, or--" "It's nice of you," Linda said, "but you needn't worry. No one would dare to bother us. No one ever has." "You wouldn't know it if they did," he replied despondently, "at your age. And then your mother is so trustful and pleasant. Take those parties where she is so much--roof frolics and cocoanut groves and submarine caf s; they don't come to any good. Rowdy." Linda studied him coldly; if he criticized them further she would leave. He mopped a shining brow with a large colorful silk handkerchief. "It throws me into a sweat," he admitted. "Really, Mr. Feldt, you mustn't bother," she told him in one of her few impulses of friendliness. "You see, we are very experienced." He nodded without visible happiness at this truth. "I'm a jackass!" he cried. "Judith tells me that all the time. If you could only see my daughters," he continued with a new vigor; "such lovely girls as they are. One dark like you and the other fair as a daisy. Judith and Pansy. And my home that darling mama made before she died." The handkerchief was again in evidence. "Women and girls are funny. I can't get you there and not for nothing will Judith make a step. It may be pride but it seems to me such nonsense. I guess I'm old-fashioned and love's old-fashioned. Homes have gone out of style with the rest. It's all these restaurants and roofs now, yes, and studios. I tell the girls to stay away from them and from artists and so on. I don't encourage them at the apartment--a big lump of a feller with platinum bracelets on his wrists. What kind of a man would that be! I'd like to know who'd buy goods from him. "Sometimes, I'm sorry I got a lot of money, but it made mama happy. When she laid there at the last sick and couldn't live, I said, 'Oh, if you only won't leave me I'll give you gold to eat.'" He was so moved, his face so red, that Linda grew acutely embarrassed. People were looking at them. She rose stiffly but, in spite of her effort to escape him, he caught both her hands in his: "You say I'm an old idiot like Judith," he begged. This Linda declined to do. And, "Ask your mother if you won't come to dinner with the girls and me, cozy and at home--just once." "I'm afraid it will do no good," she admitted; "but I'll try." She realized that he was about to kiss her and moved quickly back. "I am almost afraid of you," he told her; "you're so distant and elegant. Judith and Pansy would get on with you first rate. I'll telephone tomorrow, in the afternoon. If the last flowers I sent you came I never heard of it." She thanked him appropriately for the roses and stood, erect and impersonal, as a man in the hotel livery helped him into a coat. Mr. Moses Feldt waved the still unlighted cigar at her and disappeared through the rotating door to the street. She gave a half-affected sigh of relief. Couldn't he see that her mother would never marry him. At the same time the strange thrill touched her; the sense of his absurdity vanished and she no longer remembered him perched like a painted rubber ball on the edge of the lounge. In the somber red plush and varnished wood of the reception-room of their suite he seemed again charming. Perhaps it was because he, too, adored her mother. That wasn't the reason. The familiar rare joy lingered. It seemed now as though she were to capture and understand it ... there was the vibration of music; and then, as always, she felt at once sad and brave. But, in spite of her old effort to the contrary, the feeling died away. Some day it would be clear to her; in the meanwhile Mr. Moses Feldt became once more only ridiculous. VIII In the morning she was dressed and had returned from breakfast before her mother stirred. The latter moved sharply, brought an arm up over her head, and swore. It was a long while before she got up or spoke again, and Linda never remembered her in a worse temper. When, finally, she came into the room where the breakfast-tray was laid, Linda was inexpressibly shocked--all that her mother had dreaded about her appearance had come disastrously true. Her face was hung with shadows like smudges of dirt and her eyes were netted with lines. Examining the dishes with distaste she told Linda that positively she could slap her for letting them bring up orange-juice. "How often must I explain to you that it freezes my fingers." Linda replied that she had repeated this in the breakfast-room and perhaps they had the wrong order. Neither her mother nor she said anything more until Mrs. Condon had finished her coffee and started a second cigarette. Then Linda related something of Mr. Moses Feldt's call on the evening before. "He cried right into his handkerchief," she said, "until I thought I should sink." Mrs. Condon eyed her daughter speculatively. "Now if you were only four years older," she declared, "it would be a good thing. He was simply born to be a husband." Horror filled Linda at the other's implication. "Yes," the elder insisted; "you couldn't do better; except, perhaps, for those girls of his. But then you'd have no trouble making them miserable. It's time to talk to you seriously about marriage." The smoke from the cigarette eddied in a gray veil across her unrefreshed face. "You're old for your age, Linda; your life has made you that; and, like I said last night, it is rather better than not. Well, for you marriage, and soon as possible, is the proper thing. Mind, I have never said a word against it; only what suits one doesn't suit another. Where it wouldn't be anything more than an old ladies' home to me you need it early and plenty. You are too intense. That doesn't go in the world. Men don't like it. They want their pleasure and comfort without strings tied to them; the intensity has to be theirs. "What you must get through your head is that love--whatever it is--and marriage are two different things, and if you are going to be successful they must be kept separate. You can't do anything with a man if you love him; but then you can't do anything with him if he doesn't love you. That's the whole thing in a breath. I am not crying down love, either; only I don't want you to think it is the bread and butter while it's nothing more than those little sweet cakes at Henri's. "Now any girl who marries a poor man or for love--they are the same thing--is a fool and deserves what she gets. No one thanks her for it, him least of all; because if she does love him it is only to make them miserable. She's always at him--where did he go and why did he stay so long, and no matter what he says she knows it's a lie. More times than not she's right, too. I can't tell you too often--men don't want to be loved, they like to be flattered and flattered and then flattered again. You'd never believe how childish they are. "Make them think they're it and don't give too much--that's the secret. Above all else don't be easy on them. Don't say 'all right, darling, next spring will do as well for a new suit.' Get it then and let him worry about paying for it, if worry he must. If they don't give it to you some one smarter will wear it. But I started to talk about getting married. "Choose a Moses Feldt, who will always be grateful to you, and keep him at it. They are so easy to land it's a kind of shame, too. Perhaps I am telling you this too soon, but I don't want any mistakes. Well, pick out your Moses--and mama will help you there--and suddenly, at the right time, show him that you can be affectionate; surprise him with it and you so staid and particular generally. Don't overdo it, promise more than you ever give-- "In the closet, dearie, just a little. That's a good girl. Mama's so dry." She rose, the silver cup of the flask in her hand, and moved inevitably to the mirror. "My hair's a sight," she remarked; "all strings. I believe I'll get a permanent wave. They say it lasts for six months or more, till the ends grow out. Makes a lot of it, too, and holds the front together. If you've ever had dye in your hair, I hear, it will break off like grass." Linda pondered over what she had been told of love and marriage; on the whole the exposition had been unsatisfactory. The latter she was able to grasp, but her mother had admitted an inability exactly to fix love. One fact, apparently, was clear--it was a nuisance and a hindrance to happiness, or rather to success. Love upset things. Still she had the strongest objection possible to living forever with a man like Mr. Moses Feldt. At once all that she had hoped for from life grew flat and uninteresting. She had no doubt of her mother's correctness and wisdom; the world was like that; she must make the best of it. There was some telephoning, inquiries, and she heard the elder make an appointment with a hair-dresser for three that afternoon. She wondered what it would be like to have your hair permanently waved and hoped that she would see it done. This, too, she realized, was a part of the necessity of always considering men--they liked your hair to be wavy. Hers was as straight and stupid as possible. She, in turn, examined herself in a mirror: the black bang fell exactly to her eyebrows, her face had no color other than the carnation of her lips and her deep blue eyes. She moved away and critically studied her figure; inches and inches too thin, she decided. Undoubtedly her mother was right, and she must marry at the first opportunity--if she could find a man, a rich man, who was willing. Her thoughts returned vaguely to the mystery, the nuisance, of love. Surely she had heard something before, immensely important, about it, and totally different from all her mother had said. Her mind was filled with the fantastic image of a forest, of dangers, and a fat china figure with curled plumes, a nodding head, that brushed her with fear and disgust. A shuddering panic took possession of her, flashes burned before her eyes, and she ran gasping to the perfumed soft reassurances of her mother. IX In a recurrence of her surprising concern of the day before Mrs. Condon declined to leave her dearest Linda alone; and, their arms caught together in a surging affection, they walked down Fifth Avenue toward the hairdresser's. There was a diffused gray sparkle of sunlight--it was early for the throngs--through which they passed rapidly to the accompaniment of a rapid eager chatter. Linda wore a deep smooth camel's hair cape, over which her intense black hair poured like ink, and her face was shaded by a dipping green velvet hat. Her mother, in one of the tightly cut suits she affected, had never been more like a perfect companion. They saw, in the window of a store for men, a set of violent purple wool underwear, and barely escaped hysterics at the thought of Mr. Moses Feldt in such a garb. They giggled idiotically at the spectacle of a countryman fearfully making the sharp descent from the top of a lurching omnibus. And then, when they had reached the place of Mrs. Condon's appointment, stopped at the show of elaborately waved hair on wax heads and chose which, probably, would resemble the elder and which, in a very short while now, Linda. There was an impressive interior, furnished in gray panels and silvery wood; and the young woman at the desk was more surprisingly waved than anything they had yet seen. M. Joseph would be ready almost immediately; and in the meanwhile Mrs. Condon could lay aside her things in preparation for the hair to be washed. She did this while Linda followed every movement with the deepest interest. At the back of the long room was a succession of small alcoves, each with an important-looking chair and mirror and shelves, a white basin, water-taps and rubber tubes. Settled, in comfort, Mrs. Condon's hair was spread out in a bright metal tray fastened to the back of the chair, and the attendant, a moist tired girl in a careless waist, sprayed the short thick gold-colored strands. "My," she observed, "what some wouldn't give for your shade! Never been touched, I can see, either. A lady comes in with real Titian, but yours is more select. It positively is Lillian Russell." While she talked her hands sped with incredible rapidity and skill. "The gentlemen don't notice it; of course not; oh, no! There was a girl here, a true blonde, but she didn't stay long--her own car, yes, indeed. Married her right out of the establishment. There wasn't any nonsense to her. "So this is your little girl! I'd never have believed it. Not that she hasn't a great deal of style, a great deal--almost, you might say, like an Egyptian. In the movies last night; her all over. It's a type that will need studying. Bertha Kalich. But for me--" Already, Linda saw, this part of the operation was done. The girl wheeled into position a case that had a fan and ring of blue flickering flames, and a cupped tube through which hot air was poured over her mother's head. M. Joseph strutted in, a small carefully dressed man with a diminutive pointed gray beard and formal curled mustache. He spoke with what Linda supposed was a French accent, and his manners, at least to them, were beautiful. But because the girl had not put out the blue flames quickly enough he turned to her with a voice of quivering rage. It was so unexpected, in the middle of his bowing and smooth assurances, that Linda was startled, and had to think about him all over. The result of this was a surprising dislike; she hated, even, to see him touch her mother, as he unnecessarily did in directing them into the enclosure for the permanent wave. The place itself filled her with the faint horror of instruments and the unknown. Above the chair where Mrs. Condon now sat there was a circle in the ceiling like the base of a chandelier and hanging down from it on twisted green wires were a great number of the strangest things imaginable: they were as thick as her wrist, but round, longer and hollow, white china inside and covered with brown wrapping. The wires of each, she discovered, led over a little wheel and down again to a swinging clock-like weight. In addition to this there were strange depressing handles on the wall by a dial with a jiggling needle and clearly marked numbers. The skill of the girl who had washed her mother's hair, however, was slight compared with M. Joseph's dexterity. The comb flashed in his white narrow hands; in no time at all every knot was urged out into a shining smoothness. "Just the front?" he inquired. Not waiting for Mrs. Condon's reply, he detached a strand from the mass over her brow, impaled it on a hairpin, while he picked up what might have been a thick steel knitting-needle with one end fastened in the middle of a silver quarter. The latter, it developed, had a hole in it, through which he drew the strand of hair, and then wrapped it with an angry tightness about the long projection. At this exact moment a new girl, but tired and moist, appeared, took a hank of white threads from a dressing-table, and tied that separate lock firmly. This, Linda counted, was repeated fifteen times; and when it was accomplished she was unable to repress a nervous laughter. Really, her mother looked too queer for words: the long rigid projections stood out all over her head like--like a huge pincushion; no, it was a porcupine. Mrs. Condon smiled in uncertain recognition of her daughter's mirth. Then Linda's attention followed M. Joseph to a table against a partition, where he secured a white cotton strip from a film of them soaking in a shallow tray, took up some white powder on the blade of a dessert knife and transferred it to the strip. This he wrapped and wrapped about the hair fastened on a spindle, tied it in turn, and dragged down one of the brown objects on wires, which, to Linda's great astonishment, fitted precisely over the cotton-bound hair. Again, fifteen times, M. Joseph did this, fastening each connection with the turn of a screw. When so much was accomplished her mother's hair, it seemed, had grown fast to the ceiling in a tangle of green ends. It was the most terrifying spectacle Linda had ever witnessed. Obscure thoughts of torture, of criminals executed by electricity, froze her in a set apprehension. The hair-dresser stepped over to the dials on the wall, and, with a sharp comprehensive glance at his apparatus, moved a handle as far as it would go. Nothing immediately happened, and Linda gave a relaxing sigh of relief. M. Joseph, however, became full of a painful attention. X He brought into view an unsuspected tube, with a cone of paper at its end, and bent over her mother, directing a stream of cold air against her head. "How do you feel?" he asked, with, Linda noticed, a startling loss of his first accent. Mrs. Condon so far felt well enough. Then, before Linda's startled gaze, every single one of the fifteen imprisoning tubes began to steam with an extraordinary vigor; not only did they steam, like teapots, but drops of water formed and slowly slid over her mother's face. If the process appeared weird at the beginning, now it was utterly fantastic. The little white vapor spurts played about Mrs. Condon's dripping countenance; they increased rather than diminished; actually it resembled a wrecked locomotive she had once seen. "How are you?" M. Joseph demanded nervously. "Is it hot anywhere?" With a sudden gesture she replied in a shaking voice, "Here." Instantly he was holding the paper cone with its cold air against her scalp, and the heat was subdued. He glanced nervously at his watch, and Mrs. Condon managed to ask, "How long?" "Twenty minutes." Dangerous as the whole proceeding seemed nothing really happened, and Linda's fears gradually faded into a mere curiosity and interest. A curtain hung across the door to the rest of the establishment, but it had been brushed partly aside; and she could see, in the compartment they had vacated, another man bending with waving irons over the liberated mass of a woman's hair. He was very much like M. Joseph, but he was younger and had only a dark scrap of mustache. As he caught up the hair with a quick double twist he leaned very close to the woman's face, whispering with an expression that never changed, an expression like that of the wax heads in the show-case. He bent so low that Linda was certain their cheeks had touched. She pondered at length over this, gazing now at the man beyond and now at M. Joseph flitting with the cold-air tube about her mother; wondering if, when she grew older, she would like a hair-dresser's cheek against hers. Linda decided not. The idea didn't shock her, the woman in the other space plainly liked it; still she decided she wouldn't. A different kind of man, she told herself, would be nicer. Her thoughts were interrupted by a sharp, unpleasant odor--the odor of scorched hair; and she was absolutely rigid with horror at an agonized cry from her mother. "It's burning me terribly," the latter cried. "Oh, I can't stand it. Stop! Stop!" M. Joseph, as white as plaster, rushed to the wall and reversed the handle, and Mrs. Condon started from the chair, her face now streaming with actual tears; but before she could escape the man threw himself on her shoulders. "You mustn't move," he whispered desperately, "you'll tear your hair out. I tell you no harm's been done. Everything is all right. Please, please don't cry like that. It will ruin my business. There are others in the establishment. Stop!" he shook her viciously. Linda had risen, terrorized; and Mrs. Condon, with waving plucking hands, was sobbing an appeal to be released. "My head, my head," she repeated. "I assure you"--the man motioned to a pallid girl to hold her in the chair. With a towel to protect his hand he undid a screw, lifted off the cap and untwisted the cotton from a bound lock of hair; releasing it, in turn, from the spindle it fell forward in a complete corkscrew over Mrs. Condon's face. "Do you see!" he demanded. "Perfect. I give you my word they'll all be like that. The cursed heat ran up on me," he added in a swift aside to his assistant. "Has Mrs. Bellows gone? Who's still in the place? Here, loose that binding ... thank God, that one is all right, too." Together they unfastened most of the connections, and a growing fringe of long remarkable curls marked Mrs. Condon's pain-drawn and dabbled face. Linda sobbed uncontrollably; but perhaps, after all, nothing frightful had happened. Her poor mother! Then fear again tightened about her heart at the perturbed expression that overtook the hair-dresser. He was trying in vain to remove one of the caps. She caught enigmatic words--"the borax, crystallized ... solid. It would take a plumber ... have to go." The connection was immovable. Even in her suffering Mrs. Condon implored M. Joseph to save her hair. Nothing, however, could be done; he admitted it with pale lips. The thing might be chiseled off; in the end he tried to force a release and the strand, with a renewal of Mrs. Condon's agony--now, in the interest of her appearance, heroically withstood--snapped short in the container. Rapidly recovering her vigor, she launched on a tirade against M. Joseph and his permanent waving establishment--Linda had never before heard her mother talk in such a loud brutal manner, nor use such heated unpleasant words, and the girl was flooded with a wretched shame. Still another lock, it was revealed, had been ruined, and crumbled to mere dust in its owner's fingers. "The law will provide for you," she promised. "Your hair was dyed," the proprietor returned vindictively. "The girl who washed it will testify. Every one is warned against the permanent if their hair has been colored. So it was at your own risk." "My head's never been touched with dye," Mrs. Condon shrilly answered. "You lying little ape. And well does that young woman know it. She complimented me herself on a true blonde." The girl had, too, right before Linda. "You ought to be thrashed out of the city." "Your money will be given back to you," M. Joseph told her. Outside they found a taxi, and sped back to their hotel. Above, Mrs. Condon removed her hat; and, before the uncompromising mirror, studied her wrecked hair--a frizzled vacancy was directly over her left brow--and haggard face. When she finally turned to Linda, her manner, her words, were solemn. "I'm middle-aged," she said. A dreary silence enveloped them sitting in the dark reception-room while Mrs. Condon restlessly shredded unlighted cigarettes on the floor. She had made no effort to repair the damages to her appearance, and when the telephone bell sharply sounded, she reached out in a slovenly negligence of manner. Linda could hear a blurred articulation and her mother answering listlessly. The latter at last said: "Very well, at seven then; you'll stop for us." She hung up the receiver, stared blankly at Linda, and then went off into a harsh mirth. "Oh, my God!" she cried; "the old ladies' home!" XI With her mother away on a wedding-trip with Mr. Moses Feldt, Linda was suddenly projected into the companionship of his two daughters. One, as he had said, was light, but a different fairness from Mrs. Condon's--richly thick, like honey; while Judith, the elder, who must have been twenty, was dark in skin, in everything but her eyes, which were a contrasting ashen-violet. She spoke at once of Linda's flawless whiteness: "A magnolia," she said, in a deliberate dark voice; "you are quite a gorgeous child. Do you mind my saying that your clothes are rather quaint? They aren't inevitable, and yours ought to be that." They were at lunch in the Feldt dining-room, an interior of heavy ornately carved black wood, panels of Chinese embroidery in imperial yellow, and a neutral mauve carpet. The effect, with glittering iridescent pyramids of glass, massive frosted repouss silver, burnished gold-plate and a wide table decoration of orchids and fern, was tropical and intense. It was evident to Linda that the Feldts were very rich indeed. The entire apartment resembled the dining-room, while the building itself filled a whole city block, with a garden and fountains like an elaborate public square. Linda, however, wasn't particularly impressed by such show; she saw that Judith and Pansy had expected that of her; but she was determined not to exhibit a surprise that would imply any changes in her mother's and her condition. In addition, Linda calmly took such surroundings for granted. Her primary conception of possible existence was elegance; its necessity had so entered into her being that it

red

How many times the word 'red' appears in the text?

you with that chauffeur we have had so much. I positively forbid your leaving the hotel else. It's a comfort after all, that you are serious. Kiss mama--" However, she descended with her mother in the elevator; there was a more public caress; and the captain in the Chinese dining-room placed Linda at a small table against the wall. There she had clams--she adored iced clams--creamed shrimps and oysters with potatoes _bordure_, alligator-pear salad and a beautiful charlotte cream with black walnuts. After this she sedately instructed the captain what to sign on the back of the dinner check--Linda Condon, room five hundred and seven--placed thirty-five cents beside the finger-bowl for the waiter, and made her way out to the news stand and the talkative girl who had it in charge. Exhausting the possibilities of gossip, and deciding not to go out to the theatre--in spite of the news girl's exciting description of a play called "The New Sin"--she was walking irresolutely through the high gilded and marble assemblage space when, unfortunately, she was captured by Mr. Moses Feldt. VII He led her to a high-backed lounge against the wall, where, seated on its extreme edge, he gazed silently at her with an expression of sentimental concern. Mr. Moses Feldt was a short round man, bald but for a fluffy rim of pale hair, and with the palest imaginable eyes in a countenance perpetually flushed by the physical necessity of accommodating his rotundity to awkward edges and conditions. As usual he was dressed with the nicest care--a band of white linen laid in the opening of his waistcoat, his scarf ornamented by a pear-shaped pearl on a diamond finished stem; his cloth-topped varnished black shoes glistened, while his short fat fingers clasped a prodigious unlighted cigar. At last, in a tone exactly suited to his gaze, he exclaimed: "So that naughty mama has gone out again and deserted Moses and her little Linda!" In what way her mother had deserted Mr. Feldt she failed to understand. Of course he wanted to marry them--the comprehensive phrase was his own--but that didn't include him in whatever they did. Principally it made a joke for their private entertainment. Mrs. Condon would mimic his eager manner, "Stella, let me take you both home where you'll have the best in the land," And, "Ladies like you ought to have a loving protection." Linda would laugh in her cool bell-like manner, and her mother add a satirical comment on the chance any Moses Feldt had of marrying her. Linda at once found him ridiculous and a being who forced a slighting warmth of liking. His appearance was preposterous, the ready emotion often too foolish for words; but underneath there was a--a goodness, a mysterious quality that stirred her heart to recognition. Certain rare things in life and experience affected her like that memory of an old happiness. She could never say what they might be, they came at the oddest times and by the most extraordinary means; but at their occurrence she would thrill for a moment as if in response to a sound of music. It was, for example, absurd that Mr. Moses Feldt, who was a Jew, should make her feel like that, but he did. And all the while that she was disagreeable to him, or mocking him behind his back, she was as uncomfortable and "horrid" as possible. While this fact, of course, only served to make her horrider still. At present she adopted the manner of a patience that nothing could quite exhaust; she was polite and formal, relentlessly correct in position. Mr. Moses Feldt, the cigar in his grasp, pressed a hand to the probable region of his heart. "You don't know how I think of you," he protested, tears in his eyes; "just the idea of you exposed to anything at all in hotels keeps me awake nights. Now it's a drunk, or a fresh feller on the elevator, or--" "It's nice of you," Linda said, "but you needn't worry. No one would dare to bother us. No one ever has." "You wouldn't know it if they did," he replied despondently, "at your age. And then your mother is so trustful and pleasant. Take those parties where she is so much--roof frolics and cocoanut groves and submarine caf s; they don't come to any good. Rowdy." Linda studied him coldly; if he criticized them further she would leave. He mopped a shining brow with a large colorful silk handkerchief. "It throws me into a sweat," he admitted. "Really, Mr. Feldt, you mustn't bother," she told him in one of her few impulses of friendliness. "You see, we are very experienced." He nodded without visible happiness at this truth. "I'm a jackass!" he cried. "Judith tells me that all the time. If you could only see my daughters," he continued with a new vigor; "such lovely girls as they are. One dark like you and the other fair as a daisy. Judith and Pansy. And my home that darling mama made before she died." The handkerchief was again in evidence. "Women and girls are funny. I can't get you there and not for nothing will Judith make a step. It may be pride but it seems to me such nonsense. I guess I'm old-fashioned and love's old-fashioned. Homes have gone out of style with the rest. It's all these restaurants and roofs now, yes, and studios. I tell the girls to stay away from them and from artists and so on. I don't encourage them at the apartment--a big lump of a feller with platinum bracelets on his wrists. What kind of a man would that be! I'd like to know who'd buy goods from him. "Sometimes, I'm sorry I got a lot of money, but it made mama happy. When she laid there at the last sick and couldn't live, I said, 'Oh, if you only won't leave me I'll give you gold to eat.'" He was so moved, his face so red, that Linda grew acutely embarrassed. People were looking at them. She rose stiffly but, in spite of her effort to escape him, he caught both her hands in his: "You say I'm an old idiot like Judith," he begged. This Linda declined to do. And, "Ask your mother if you won't come to dinner with the girls and me, cozy and at home--just once." "I'm afraid it will do no good," she admitted; "but I'll try." She realized that he was about to kiss her and moved quickly back. "I am almost afraid of you," he told her; "you're so distant and elegant. Judith and Pansy would get on with you first rate. I'll telephone tomorrow, in the afternoon. If the last flowers I sent you came I never heard of it." She thanked him appropriately for the roses and stood, erect and impersonal, as a man in the hotel livery helped him into a coat. Mr. Moses Feldt waved the still unlighted cigar at her and disappeared through the rotating door to the street. She gave a half-affected sigh of relief. Couldn't he see that her mother would never marry him. At the same time the strange thrill touched her; the sense of his absurdity vanished and she no longer remembered him perched like a painted rubber ball on the edge of the lounge. In the somber red plush and varnished wood of the reception-room of their suite he seemed again charming. Perhaps it was because he, too, adored her mother. That wasn't the reason. The familiar rare joy lingered. It seemed now as though she were to capture and understand it ... there was the vibration of music; and then, as always, she felt at once sad and brave. But, in spite of her old effort to the contrary, the feeling died away. Some day it would be clear to her; in the meanwhile Mr. Moses Feldt became once more only ridiculous. VIII In the morning she was dressed and had returned from breakfast before her mother stirred. The latter moved sharply, brought an arm up over her head, and swore. It was a long while before she got up or spoke again, and Linda never remembered her in a worse temper. When, finally, she came into the room where the breakfast-tray was laid, Linda was inexpressibly shocked--all that her mother had dreaded about her appearance had come disastrously true. Her face was hung with shadows like smudges of dirt and her eyes were netted with lines. Examining the dishes with distaste she told Linda that positively she could slap her for letting them bring up orange-juice. "How often must I explain to you that it freezes my fingers." Linda replied that she had repeated this in the breakfast-room and perhaps they had the wrong order. Neither her mother nor she said anything more until Mrs. Condon had finished her coffee and started a second cigarette. Then Linda related something of Mr. Moses Feldt's call on the evening before. "He cried right into his handkerchief," she said, "until I thought I should sink." Mrs. Condon eyed her daughter speculatively. "Now if you were only four years older," she declared, "it would be a good thing. He was simply born to be a husband." Horror filled Linda at the other's implication. "Yes," the elder insisted; "you couldn't do better; except, perhaps, for those girls of his. But then you'd have no trouble making them miserable. It's time to talk to you seriously about marriage." The smoke from the cigarette eddied in a gray veil across her unrefreshed face. "You're old for your age, Linda; your life has made you that; and, like I said last night, it is rather better than not. Well, for you marriage, and soon as possible, is the proper thing. Mind, I have never said a word against it; only what suits one doesn't suit another. Where it wouldn't be anything more than an old ladies' home to me you need it early and plenty. You are too intense. That doesn't go in the world. Men don't like it. They want their pleasure and comfort without strings tied to them; the intensity has to be theirs. "What you must get through your head is that love--whatever it is--and marriage are two different things, and if you are going to be successful they must be kept separate. You can't do anything with a man if you love him; but then you can't do anything with him if he doesn't love you. That's the whole thing in a breath. I am not crying down love, either; only I don't want you to think it is the bread and butter while it's nothing more than those little sweet cakes at Henri's. "Now any girl who marries a poor man or for love--they are the same thing--is a fool and deserves what she gets. No one thanks her for it, him least of all; because if she does love him it is only to make them miserable. She's always at him--where did he go and why did he stay so long, and no matter what he says she knows it's a lie. More times than not she's right, too. I can't tell you too often--men don't want to be loved, they like to be flattered and flattered and then flattered again. You'd never believe how childish they are. "Make them think they're it and don't give too much--that's the secret. Above all else don't be easy on them. Don't say 'all right, darling, next spring will do as well for a new suit.' Get it then and let him worry about paying for it, if worry he must. If they don't give it to you some one smarter will wear it. But I started to talk about getting married. "Choose a Moses Feldt, who will always be grateful to you, and keep him at it. They are so easy to land it's a kind of shame, too. Perhaps I am telling you this too soon, but I don't want any mistakes. Well, pick out your Moses--and mama will help you there--and suddenly, at the right time, show him that you can be affectionate; surprise him with it and you so staid and particular generally. Don't overdo it, promise more than you ever give-- "In the closet, dearie, just a little. That's a good girl. Mama's so dry." She rose, the silver cup of the flask in her hand, and moved inevitably to the mirror. "My hair's a sight," she remarked; "all strings. I believe I'll get a permanent wave. They say it lasts for six months or more, till the ends grow out. Makes a lot of it, too, and holds the front together. If you've ever had dye in your hair, I hear, it will break off like grass." Linda pondered over what she had been told of love and marriage; on the whole the exposition had been unsatisfactory. The latter she was able to grasp, but her mother had admitted an inability exactly to fix love. One fact, apparently, was clear--it was a nuisance and a hindrance to happiness, or rather to success. Love upset things. Still she had the strongest objection possible to living forever with a man like Mr. Moses Feldt. At once all that she had hoped for from life grew flat and uninteresting. She had no doubt of her mother's correctness and wisdom; the world was like that; she must make the best of it. There was some telephoning, inquiries, and she heard the elder make an appointment with a hair-dresser for three that afternoon. She wondered what it would be like to have your hair permanently waved and hoped that she would see it done. This, too, she realized, was a part of the necessity of always considering men--they liked your hair to be wavy. Hers was as straight and stupid as possible. She, in turn, examined herself in a mirror: the black bang fell exactly to her eyebrows, her face had no color other than the carnation of her lips and her deep blue eyes. She moved away and critically studied her figure; inches and inches too thin, she decided. Undoubtedly her mother was right, and she must marry at the first opportunity--if she could find a man, a rich man, who was willing. Her thoughts returned vaguely to the mystery, the nuisance, of love. Surely she had heard something before, immensely important, about it, and totally different from all her mother had said. Her mind was filled with the fantastic image of a forest, of dangers, and a fat china figure with curled plumes, a nodding head, that brushed her with fear and disgust. A shuddering panic took possession of her, flashes burned before her eyes, and she ran gasping to the perfumed soft reassurances of her mother. IX In a recurrence of her surprising concern of the day before Mrs. Condon declined to leave her dearest Linda alone; and, their arms caught together in a surging affection, they walked down Fifth Avenue toward the hairdresser's. There was a diffused gray sparkle of sunlight--it was early for the throngs--through which they passed rapidly to the accompaniment of a rapid eager chatter. Linda wore a deep smooth camel's hair cape, over which her intense black hair poured like ink, and her face was shaded by a dipping green velvet hat. Her mother, in one of the tightly cut suits she affected, had never been more like a perfect companion. They saw, in the window of a store for men, a set of violent purple wool underwear, and barely escaped hysterics at the thought of Mr. Moses Feldt in such a garb. They giggled idiotically at the spectacle of a countryman fearfully making the sharp descent from the top of a lurching omnibus. And then, when they had reached the place of Mrs. Condon's appointment, stopped at the show of elaborately waved hair on wax heads and chose which, probably, would resemble the elder and which, in a very short while now, Linda. There was an impressive interior, furnished in gray panels and silvery wood; and the young woman at the desk was more surprisingly waved than anything they had yet seen. M. Joseph would be ready almost immediately; and in the meanwhile Mrs. Condon could lay aside her things in preparation for the hair to be washed. She did this while Linda followed every movement with the deepest interest. At the back of the long room was a succession of small alcoves, each with an important-looking chair and mirror and shelves, a white basin, water-taps and rubber tubes. Settled, in comfort, Mrs. Condon's hair was spread out in a bright metal tray fastened to the back of the chair, and the attendant, a moist tired girl in a careless waist, sprayed the short thick gold-colored strands. "My," she observed, "what some wouldn't give for your shade! Never been touched, I can see, either. A lady comes in with real Titian, but yours is more select. It positively is Lillian Russell." While she talked her hands sped with incredible rapidity and skill. "The gentlemen don't notice it; of course not; oh, no! There was a girl here, a true blonde, but she didn't stay long--her own car, yes, indeed. Married her right out of the establishment. There wasn't any nonsense to her. "So this is your little girl! I'd never have believed it. Not that she hasn't a great deal of style, a great deal--almost, you might say, like an Egyptian. In the movies last night; her all over. It's a type that will need studying. Bertha Kalich. But for me--" Already, Linda saw, this part of the operation was done. The girl wheeled into position a case that had a fan and ring of blue flickering flames, and a cupped tube through which hot air was poured over her mother's head. M. Joseph strutted in, a small carefully dressed man with a diminutive pointed gray beard and formal curled mustache. He spoke with what Linda supposed was a French accent, and his manners, at least to them, were beautiful. But because the girl had not put out the blue flames quickly enough he turned to her with a voice of quivering rage. It was so unexpected, in the middle of his bowing and smooth assurances, that Linda was startled, and had to think about him all over. The result of this was a surprising dislike; she hated, even, to see him touch her mother, as he unnecessarily did in directing them into the enclosure for the permanent wave. The place itself filled her with the faint horror of instruments and the unknown. Above the chair where Mrs. Condon now sat there was a circle in the ceiling like the base of a chandelier and hanging down from it on twisted green wires were a great number of the strangest things imaginable: they were as thick as her wrist, but round, longer and hollow, white china inside and covered with brown wrapping. The wires of each, she discovered, led over a little wheel and down again to a swinging clock-like weight. In addition to this there were strange depressing handles on the wall by a dial with a jiggling needle and clearly marked numbers. The skill of the girl who had washed her mother's hair, however, was slight compared with M. Joseph's dexterity. The comb flashed in his white narrow hands; in no time at all every knot was urged out into a shining smoothness. "Just the front?" he inquired. Not waiting for Mrs. Condon's reply, he detached a strand from the mass over her brow, impaled it on a hairpin, while he picked up what might have been a thick steel knitting-needle with one end fastened in the middle of a silver quarter. The latter, it developed, had a hole in it, through which he drew the strand of hair, and then wrapped it with an angry tightness about the long projection. At this exact moment a new girl, but tired and moist, appeared, took a hank of white threads from a dressing-table, and tied that separate lock firmly. This, Linda counted, was repeated fifteen times; and when it was accomplished she was unable to repress a nervous laughter. Really, her mother looked too queer for words: the long rigid projections stood out all over her head like--like a huge pincushion; no, it was a porcupine. Mrs. Condon smiled in uncertain recognition of her daughter's mirth. Then Linda's attention followed M. Joseph to a table against a partition, where he secured a white cotton strip from a film of them soaking in a shallow tray, took up some white powder on the blade of a dessert knife and transferred it to the strip. This he wrapped and wrapped about the hair fastened on a spindle, tied it in turn, and dragged down one of the brown objects on wires, which, to Linda's great astonishment, fitted precisely over the cotton-bound hair. Again, fifteen times, M. Joseph did this, fastening each connection with the turn of a screw. When so much was accomplished her mother's hair, it seemed, had grown fast to the ceiling in a tangle of green ends. It was the most terrifying spectacle Linda had ever witnessed. Obscure thoughts of torture, of criminals executed by electricity, froze her in a set apprehension. The hair-dresser stepped over to the dials on the wall, and, with a sharp comprehensive glance at his apparatus, moved a handle as far as it would go. Nothing immediately happened, and Linda gave a relaxing sigh of relief. M. Joseph, however, became full of a painful attention. X He brought into view an unsuspected tube, with a cone of paper at its end, and bent over her mother, directing a stream of cold air against her head. "How do you feel?" he asked, with, Linda noticed, a startling loss of his first accent. Mrs. Condon so far felt well enough. Then, before Linda's startled gaze, every single one of the fifteen imprisoning tubes began to steam with an extraordinary vigor; not only did they steam, like teapots, but drops of water formed and slowly slid over her mother's face. If the process appeared weird at the beginning, now it was utterly fantastic. The little white vapor spurts played about Mrs. Condon's dripping countenance; they increased rather than diminished; actually it resembled a wrecked locomotive she had once seen. "How are you?" M. Joseph demanded nervously. "Is it hot anywhere?" With a sudden gesture she replied in a shaking voice, "Here." Instantly he was holding the paper cone with its cold air against her scalp, and the heat was subdued. He glanced nervously at his watch, and Mrs. Condon managed to ask, "How long?" "Twenty minutes." Dangerous as the whole proceeding seemed nothing really happened, and Linda's fears gradually faded into a mere curiosity and interest. A curtain hung across the door to the rest of the establishment, but it had been brushed partly aside; and she could see, in the compartment they had vacated, another man bending with waving irons over the liberated mass of a woman's hair. He was very much like M. Joseph, but he was younger and had only a dark scrap of mustache. As he caught up the hair with a quick double twist he leaned very close to the woman's face, whispering with an expression that never changed, an expression like that of the wax heads in the show-case. He bent so low that Linda was certain their cheeks had touched. She pondered at length over this, gazing now at the man beyond and now at M. Joseph flitting with the cold-air tube about her mother; wondering if, when she grew older, she would like a hair-dresser's cheek against hers. Linda decided not. The idea didn't shock her, the woman in the other space plainly liked it; still she decided she wouldn't. A different kind of man, she told herself, would be nicer. Her thoughts were interrupted by a sharp, unpleasant odor--the odor of scorched hair; and she was absolutely rigid with horror at an agonized cry from her mother. "It's burning me terribly," the latter cried. "Oh, I can't stand it. Stop! Stop!" M. Joseph, as white as plaster, rushed to the wall and reversed the handle, and Mrs. Condon started from the chair, her face now streaming with actual tears; but before she could escape the man threw himself on her shoulders. "You mustn't move," he whispered desperately, "you'll tear your hair out. I tell you no harm's been done. Everything is all right. Please, please don't cry like that. It will ruin my business. There are others in the establishment. Stop!" he shook her viciously. Linda had risen, terrorized; and Mrs. Condon, with waving plucking hands, was sobbing an appeal to be released. "My head, my head," she repeated. "I assure you"--the man motioned to a pallid girl to hold her in the chair. With a towel to protect his hand he undid a screw, lifted off the cap and untwisted the cotton from a bound lock of hair; releasing it, in turn, from the spindle it fell forward in a complete corkscrew over Mrs. Condon's face. "Do you see!" he demanded. "Perfect. I give you my word they'll all be like that. The cursed heat ran up on me," he added in a swift aside to his assistant. "Has Mrs. Bellows gone? Who's still in the place? Here, loose that binding ... thank God, that one is all right, too." Together they unfastened most of the connections, and a growing fringe of long remarkable curls marked Mrs. Condon's pain-drawn and dabbled face. Linda sobbed uncontrollably; but perhaps, after all, nothing frightful had happened. Her poor mother! Then fear again tightened about her heart at the perturbed expression that overtook the hair-dresser. He was trying in vain to remove one of the caps. She caught enigmatic words--"the borax, crystallized ... solid. It would take a plumber ... have to go." The connection was immovable. Even in her suffering Mrs. Condon implored M. Joseph to save her hair. Nothing, however, could be done; he admitted it with pale lips. The thing might be chiseled off; in the end he tried to force a release and the strand, with a renewal of Mrs. Condon's agony--now, in the interest of her appearance, heroically withstood--snapped short in the container. Rapidly recovering her vigor, she launched on a tirade against M. Joseph and his permanent waving establishment--Linda had never before heard her mother talk in such a loud brutal manner, nor use such heated unpleasant words, and the girl was flooded with a wretched shame. Still another lock, it was revealed, had been ruined, and crumbled to mere dust in its owner's fingers. "The law will provide for you," she promised. "Your hair was dyed," the proprietor returned vindictively. "The girl who washed it will testify. Every one is warned against the permanent if their hair has been colored. So it was at your own risk." "My head's never been touched with dye," Mrs. Condon shrilly answered. "You lying little ape. And well does that young woman know it. She complimented me herself on a true blonde." The girl had, too, right before Linda. "You ought to be thrashed out of the city." "Your money will be given back to you," M. Joseph told her. Outside they found a taxi, and sped back to their hotel. Above, Mrs. Condon removed her hat; and, before the uncompromising mirror, studied her wrecked hair--a frizzled vacancy was directly over her left brow--and haggard face. When she finally turned to Linda, her manner, her words, were solemn. "I'm middle-aged," she said. A dreary silence enveloped them sitting in the dark reception-room while Mrs. Condon restlessly shredded unlighted cigarettes on the floor. She had made no effort to repair the damages to her appearance, and when the telephone bell sharply sounded, she reached out in a slovenly negligence of manner. Linda could hear a blurred articulation and her mother answering listlessly. The latter at last said: "Very well, at seven then; you'll stop for us." She hung up the receiver, stared blankly at Linda, and then went off into a harsh mirth. "Oh, my God!" she cried; "the old ladies' home!" XI With her mother away on a wedding-trip with Mr. Moses Feldt, Linda was suddenly projected into the companionship of his two daughters. One, as he had said, was light, but a different fairness from Mrs. Condon's--richly thick, like honey; while Judith, the elder, who must have been twenty, was dark in skin, in everything but her eyes, which were a contrasting ashen-violet. She spoke at once of Linda's flawless whiteness: "A magnolia," she said, in a deliberate dark voice; "you are quite a gorgeous child. Do you mind my saying that your clothes are rather quaint? They aren't inevitable, and yours ought to be that." They were at lunch in the Feldt dining-room, an interior of heavy ornately carved black wood, panels of Chinese embroidery in imperial yellow, and a neutral mauve carpet. The effect, with glittering iridescent pyramids of glass, massive frosted repouss silver, burnished gold-plate and a wide table decoration of orchids and fern, was tropical and intense. It was evident to Linda that the Feldts were very rich indeed. The entire apartment resembled the dining-room, while the building itself filled a whole city block, with a garden and fountains like an elaborate public square. Linda, however, wasn't particularly impressed by such show; she saw that Judith and Pansy had expected that of her; but she was determined not to exhibit a surprise that would imply any changes in her mother's and her condition. In addition, Linda calmly took such surroundings for granted. Her primary conception of possible existence was elegance; its necessity had so entered into her being that it

mantel

How many times the word 'mantel' appears in the text?

you with that chauffeur we have had so much. I positively forbid your leaving the hotel else. It's a comfort after all, that you are serious. Kiss mama--" However, she descended with her mother in the elevator; there was a more public caress; and the captain in the Chinese dining-room placed Linda at a small table against the wall. There she had clams--she adored iced clams--creamed shrimps and oysters with potatoes _bordure_, alligator-pear salad and a beautiful charlotte cream with black walnuts. After this she sedately instructed the captain what to sign on the back of the dinner check--Linda Condon, room five hundred and seven--placed thirty-five cents beside the finger-bowl for the waiter, and made her way out to the news stand and the talkative girl who had it in charge. Exhausting the possibilities of gossip, and deciding not to go out to the theatre--in spite of the news girl's exciting description of a play called "The New Sin"--she was walking irresolutely through the high gilded and marble assemblage space when, unfortunately, she was captured by Mr. Moses Feldt. VII He led her to a high-backed lounge against the wall, where, seated on its extreme edge, he gazed silently at her with an expression of sentimental concern. Mr. Moses Feldt was a short round man, bald but for a fluffy rim of pale hair, and with the palest imaginable eyes in a countenance perpetually flushed by the physical necessity of accommodating his rotundity to awkward edges and conditions. As usual he was dressed with the nicest care--a band of white linen laid in the opening of his waistcoat, his scarf ornamented by a pear-shaped pearl on a diamond finished stem; his cloth-topped varnished black shoes glistened, while his short fat fingers clasped a prodigious unlighted cigar. At last, in a tone exactly suited to his gaze, he exclaimed: "So that naughty mama has gone out again and deserted Moses and her little Linda!" In what way her mother had deserted Mr. Feldt she failed to understand. Of course he wanted to marry them--the comprehensive phrase was his own--but that didn't include him in whatever they did. Principally it made a joke for their private entertainment. Mrs. Condon would mimic his eager manner, "Stella, let me take you both home where you'll have the best in the land," And, "Ladies like you ought to have a loving protection." Linda would laugh in her cool bell-like manner, and her mother add a satirical comment on the chance any Moses Feldt had of marrying her. Linda at once found him ridiculous and a being who forced a slighting warmth of liking. His appearance was preposterous, the ready emotion often too foolish for words; but underneath there was a--a goodness, a mysterious quality that stirred her heart to recognition. Certain rare things in life and experience affected her like that memory of an old happiness. She could never say what they might be, they came at the oddest times and by the most extraordinary means; but at their occurrence she would thrill for a moment as if in response to a sound of music. It was, for example, absurd that Mr. Moses Feldt, who was a Jew, should make her feel like that, but he did. And all the while that she was disagreeable to him, or mocking him behind his back, she was as uncomfortable and "horrid" as possible. While this fact, of course, only served to make her horrider still. At present she adopted the manner of a patience that nothing could quite exhaust; she was polite and formal, relentlessly correct in position. Mr. Moses Feldt, the cigar in his grasp, pressed a hand to the probable region of his heart. "You don't know how I think of you," he protested, tears in his eyes; "just the idea of you exposed to anything at all in hotels keeps me awake nights. Now it's a drunk, or a fresh feller on the elevator, or--" "It's nice of you," Linda said, "but you needn't worry. No one would dare to bother us. No one ever has." "You wouldn't know it if they did," he replied despondently, "at your age. And then your mother is so trustful and pleasant. Take those parties where she is so much--roof frolics and cocoanut groves and submarine caf s; they don't come to any good. Rowdy." Linda studied him coldly; if he criticized them further she would leave. He mopped a shining brow with a large colorful silk handkerchief. "It throws me into a sweat," he admitted. "Really, Mr. Feldt, you mustn't bother," she told him in one of her few impulses of friendliness. "You see, we are very experienced." He nodded without visible happiness at this truth. "I'm a jackass!" he cried. "Judith tells me that all the time. If you could only see my daughters," he continued with a new vigor; "such lovely girls as they are. One dark like you and the other fair as a daisy. Judith and Pansy. And my home that darling mama made before she died." The handkerchief was again in evidence. "Women and girls are funny. I can't get you there and not for nothing will Judith make a step. It may be pride but it seems to me such nonsense. I guess I'm old-fashioned and love's old-fashioned. Homes have gone out of style with the rest. It's all these restaurants and roofs now, yes, and studios. I tell the girls to stay away from them and from artists and so on. I don't encourage them at the apartment--a big lump of a feller with platinum bracelets on his wrists. What kind of a man would that be! I'd like to know who'd buy goods from him. "Sometimes, I'm sorry I got a lot of money, but it made mama happy. When she laid there at the last sick and couldn't live, I said, 'Oh, if you only won't leave me I'll give you gold to eat.'" He was so moved, his face so red, that Linda grew acutely embarrassed. People were looking at them. She rose stiffly but, in spite of her effort to escape him, he caught both her hands in his: "You say I'm an old idiot like Judith," he begged. This Linda declined to do. And, "Ask your mother if you won't come to dinner with the girls and me, cozy and at home--just once." "I'm afraid it will do no good," she admitted; "but I'll try." She realized that he was about to kiss her and moved quickly back. "I am almost afraid of you," he told her; "you're so distant and elegant. Judith and Pansy would get on with you first rate. I'll telephone tomorrow, in the afternoon. If the last flowers I sent you came I never heard of it." She thanked him appropriately for the roses and stood, erect and impersonal, as a man in the hotel livery helped him into a coat. Mr. Moses Feldt waved the still unlighted cigar at her and disappeared through the rotating door to the street. She gave a half-affected sigh of relief. Couldn't he see that her mother would never marry him. At the same time the strange thrill touched her; the sense of his absurdity vanished and she no longer remembered him perched like a painted rubber ball on the edge of the lounge. In the somber red plush and varnished wood of the reception-room of their suite he seemed again charming. Perhaps it was because he, too, adored her mother. That wasn't the reason. The familiar rare joy lingered. It seemed now as though she were to capture and understand it ... there was the vibration of music; and then, as always, she felt at once sad and brave. But, in spite of her old effort to the contrary, the feeling died away. Some day it would be clear to her; in the meanwhile Mr. Moses Feldt became once more only ridiculous. VIII In the morning she was dressed and had returned from breakfast before her mother stirred. The latter moved sharply, brought an arm up over her head, and swore. It was a long while before she got up or spoke again, and Linda never remembered her in a worse temper. When, finally, she came into the room where the breakfast-tray was laid, Linda was inexpressibly shocked--all that her mother had dreaded about her appearance had come disastrously true. Her face was hung with shadows like smudges of dirt and her eyes were netted with lines. Examining the dishes with distaste she told Linda that positively she could slap her for letting them bring up orange-juice. "How often must I explain to you that it freezes my fingers." Linda replied that she had repeated this in the breakfast-room and perhaps they had the wrong order. Neither her mother nor she said anything more until Mrs. Condon had finished her coffee and started a second cigarette. Then Linda related something of Mr. Moses Feldt's call on the evening before. "He cried right into his handkerchief," she said, "until I thought I should sink." Mrs. Condon eyed her daughter speculatively. "Now if you were only four years older," she declared, "it would be a good thing. He was simply born to be a husband." Horror filled Linda at the other's implication. "Yes," the elder insisted; "you couldn't do better; except, perhaps, for those girls of his. But then you'd have no trouble making them miserable. It's time to talk to you seriously about marriage." The smoke from the cigarette eddied in a gray veil across her unrefreshed face. "You're old for your age, Linda; your life has made you that; and, like I said last night, it is rather better than not. Well, for you marriage, and soon as possible, is the proper thing. Mind, I have never said a word against it; only what suits one doesn't suit another. Where it wouldn't be anything more than an old ladies' home to me you need it early and plenty. You are too intense. That doesn't go in the world. Men don't like it. They want their pleasure and comfort without strings tied to them; the intensity has to be theirs. "What you must get through your head is that love--whatever it is--and marriage are two different things, and if you are going to be successful they must be kept separate. You can't do anything with a man if you love him; but then you can't do anything with him if he doesn't love you. That's the whole thing in a breath. I am not crying down love, either; only I don't want you to think it is the bread and butter while it's nothing more than those little sweet cakes at Henri's. "Now any girl who marries a poor man or for love--they are the same thing--is a fool and deserves what she gets. No one thanks her for it, him least of all; because if she does love him it is only to make them miserable. She's always at him--where did he go and why did he stay so long, and no matter what he says she knows it's a lie. More times than not she's right, too. I can't tell you too often--men don't want to be loved, they like to be flattered and flattered and then flattered again. You'd never believe how childish they are. "Make them think they're it and don't give too much--that's the secret. Above all else don't be easy on them. Don't say 'all right, darling, next spring will do as well for a new suit.' Get it then and let him worry about paying for it, if worry he must. If they don't give it to you some one smarter will wear it. But I started to talk about getting married. "Choose a Moses Feldt, who will always be grateful to you, and keep him at it. They are so easy to land it's a kind of shame, too. Perhaps I am telling you this too soon, but I don't want any mistakes. Well, pick out your Moses--and mama will help you there--and suddenly, at the right time, show him that you can be affectionate; surprise him with it and you so staid and particular generally. Don't overdo it, promise more than you ever give-- "In the closet, dearie, just a little. That's a good girl. Mama's so dry." She rose, the silver cup of the flask in her hand, and moved inevitably to the mirror. "My hair's a sight," she remarked; "all strings. I believe I'll get a permanent wave. They say it lasts for six months or more, till the ends grow out. Makes a lot of it, too, and holds the front together. If you've ever had dye in your hair, I hear, it will break off like grass." Linda pondered over what she had been told of love and marriage; on the whole the exposition had been unsatisfactory. The latter she was able to grasp, but her mother had admitted an inability exactly to fix love. One fact, apparently, was clear--it was a nuisance and a hindrance to happiness, or rather to success. Love upset things. Still she had the strongest objection possible to living forever with a man like Mr. Moses Feldt. At once all that she had hoped for from life grew flat and uninteresting. She had no doubt of her mother's correctness and wisdom; the world was like that; she must make the best of it. There was some telephoning, inquiries, and she heard the elder make an appointment with a hair-dresser for three that afternoon. She wondered what it would be like to have your hair permanently waved and hoped that she would see it done. This, too, she realized, was a part of the necessity of always considering men--they liked your hair to be wavy. Hers was as straight and stupid as possible. She, in turn, examined herself in a mirror: the black bang fell exactly to her eyebrows, her face had no color other than the carnation of her lips and her deep blue eyes. She moved away and critically studied her figure; inches and inches too thin, she decided. Undoubtedly her mother was right, and she must marry at the first opportunity--if she could find a man, a rich man, who was willing. Her thoughts returned vaguely to the mystery, the nuisance, of love. Surely she had heard something before, immensely important, about it, and totally different from all her mother had said. Her mind was filled with the fantastic image of a forest, of dangers, and a fat china figure with curled plumes, a nodding head, that brushed her with fear and disgust. A shuddering panic took possession of her, flashes burned before her eyes, and she ran gasping to the perfumed soft reassurances of her mother. IX In a recurrence of her surprising concern of the day before Mrs. Condon declined to leave her dearest Linda alone; and, their arms caught together in a surging affection, they walked down Fifth Avenue toward the hairdresser's. There was a diffused gray sparkle of sunlight--it was early for the throngs--through which they passed rapidly to the accompaniment of a rapid eager chatter. Linda wore a deep smooth camel's hair cape, over which her intense black hair poured like ink, and her face was shaded by a dipping green velvet hat. Her mother, in one of the tightly cut suits she affected, had never been more like a perfect companion. They saw, in the window of a store for men, a set of violent purple wool underwear, and barely escaped hysterics at the thought of Mr. Moses Feldt in such a garb. They giggled idiotically at the spectacle of a countryman fearfully making the sharp descent from the top of a lurching omnibus. And then, when they had reached the place of Mrs. Condon's appointment, stopped at the show of elaborately waved hair on wax heads and chose which, probably, would resemble the elder and which, in a very short while now, Linda. There was an impressive interior, furnished in gray panels and silvery wood; and the young woman at the desk was more surprisingly waved than anything they had yet seen. M. Joseph would be ready almost immediately; and in the meanwhile Mrs. Condon could lay aside her things in preparation for the hair to be washed. She did this while Linda followed every movement with the deepest interest. At the back of the long room was a succession of small alcoves, each with an important-looking chair and mirror and shelves, a white basin, water-taps and rubber tubes. Settled, in comfort, Mrs. Condon's hair was spread out in a bright metal tray fastened to the back of the chair, and the attendant, a moist tired girl in a careless waist, sprayed the short thick gold-colored strands. "My," she observed, "what some wouldn't give for your shade! Never been touched, I can see, either. A lady comes in with real Titian, but yours is more select. It positively is Lillian Russell." While she talked her hands sped with incredible rapidity and skill. "The gentlemen don't notice it; of course not; oh, no! There was a girl here, a true blonde, but she didn't stay long--her own car, yes, indeed. Married her right out of the establishment. There wasn't any nonsense to her. "So this is your little girl! I'd never have believed it. Not that she hasn't a great deal of style, a great deal--almost, you might say, like an Egyptian. In the movies last night; her all over. It's a type that will need studying. Bertha Kalich. But for me--" Already, Linda saw, this part of the operation was done. The girl wheeled into position a case that had a fan and ring of blue flickering flames, and a cupped tube through which hot air was poured over her mother's head. M. Joseph strutted in, a small carefully dressed man with a diminutive pointed gray beard and formal curled mustache. He spoke with what Linda supposed was a French accent, and his manners, at least to them, were beautiful. But because the girl had not put out the blue flames quickly enough he turned to her with a voice of quivering rage. It was so unexpected, in the middle of his bowing and smooth assurances, that Linda was startled, and had to think about him all over. The result of this was a surprising dislike; she hated, even, to see him touch her mother, as he unnecessarily did in directing them into the enclosure for the permanent wave. The place itself filled her with the faint horror of instruments and the unknown. Above the chair where Mrs. Condon now sat there was a circle in the ceiling like the base of a chandelier and hanging down from it on twisted green wires were a great number of the strangest things imaginable: they were as thick as her wrist, but round, longer and hollow, white china inside and covered with brown wrapping. The wires of each, she discovered, led over a little wheel and down again to a swinging clock-like weight. In addition to this there were strange depressing handles on the wall by a dial with a jiggling needle and clearly marked numbers. The skill of the girl who had washed her mother's hair, however, was slight compared with M. Joseph's dexterity. The comb flashed in his white narrow hands; in no time at all every knot was urged out into a shining smoothness. "Just the front?" he inquired. Not waiting for Mrs. Condon's reply, he detached a strand from the mass over her brow, impaled it on a hairpin, while he picked up what might have been a thick steel knitting-needle with one end fastened in the middle of a silver quarter. The latter, it developed, had a hole in it, through which he drew the strand of hair, and then wrapped it with an angry tightness about the long projection. At this exact moment a new girl, but tired and moist, appeared, took a hank of white threads from a dressing-table, and tied that separate lock firmly. This, Linda counted, was repeated fifteen times; and when it was accomplished she was unable to repress a nervous laughter. Really, her mother looked too queer for words: the long rigid projections stood out all over her head like--like a huge pincushion; no, it was a porcupine. Mrs. Condon smiled in uncertain recognition of her daughter's mirth. Then Linda's attention followed M. Joseph to a table against a partition, where he secured a white cotton strip from a film of them soaking in a shallow tray, took up some white powder on the blade of a dessert knife and transferred it to the strip. This he wrapped and wrapped about the hair fastened on a spindle, tied it in turn, and dragged down one of the brown objects on wires, which, to Linda's great astonishment, fitted precisely over the cotton-bound hair. Again, fifteen times, M. Joseph did this, fastening each connection with the turn of a screw. When so much was accomplished her mother's hair, it seemed, had grown fast to the ceiling in a tangle of green ends. It was the most terrifying spectacle Linda had ever witnessed. Obscure thoughts of torture, of criminals executed by electricity, froze her in a set apprehension. The hair-dresser stepped over to the dials on the wall, and, with a sharp comprehensive glance at his apparatus, moved a handle as far as it would go. Nothing immediately happened, and Linda gave a relaxing sigh of relief. M. Joseph, however, became full of a painful attention. X He brought into view an unsuspected tube, with a cone of paper at its end, and bent over her mother, directing a stream of cold air against her head. "How do you feel?" he asked, with, Linda noticed, a startling loss of his first accent. Mrs. Condon so far felt well enough. Then, before Linda's startled gaze, every single one of the fifteen imprisoning tubes began to steam with an extraordinary vigor; not only did they steam, like teapots, but drops of water formed and slowly slid over her mother's face. If the process appeared weird at the beginning, now it was utterly fantastic. The little white vapor spurts played about Mrs. Condon's dripping countenance; they increased rather than diminished; actually it resembled a wrecked locomotive she had once seen. "How are you?" M. Joseph demanded nervously. "Is it hot anywhere?" With a sudden gesture she replied in a shaking voice, "Here." Instantly he was holding the paper cone with its cold air against her scalp, and the heat was subdued. He glanced nervously at his watch, and Mrs. Condon managed to ask, "How long?" "Twenty minutes." Dangerous as the whole proceeding seemed nothing really happened, and Linda's fears gradually faded into a mere curiosity and interest. A curtain hung across the door to the rest of the establishment, but it had been brushed partly aside; and she could see, in the compartment they had vacated, another man bending with waving irons over the liberated mass of a woman's hair. He was very much like M. Joseph, but he was younger and had only a dark scrap of mustache. As he caught up the hair with a quick double twist he leaned very close to the woman's face, whispering with an expression that never changed, an expression like that of the wax heads in the show-case. He bent so low that Linda was certain their cheeks had touched. She pondered at length over this, gazing now at the man beyond and now at M. Joseph flitting with the cold-air tube about her mother; wondering if, when she grew older, she would like a hair-dresser's cheek against hers. Linda decided not. The idea didn't shock her, the woman in the other space plainly liked it; still she decided she wouldn't. A different kind of man, she told herself, would be nicer. Her thoughts were interrupted by a sharp, unpleasant odor--the odor of scorched hair; and she was absolutely rigid with horror at an agonized cry from her mother. "It's burning me terribly," the latter cried. "Oh, I can't stand it. Stop! Stop!" M. Joseph, as white as plaster, rushed to the wall and reversed the handle, and Mrs. Condon started from the chair, her face now streaming with actual tears; but before she could escape the man threw himself on her shoulders. "You mustn't move," he whispered desperately, "you'll tear your hair out. I tell you no harm's been done. Everything is all right. Please, please don't cry like that. It will ruin my business. There are others in the establishment. Stop!" he shook her viciously. Linda had risen, terrorized; and Mrs. Condon, with waving plucking hands, was sobbing an appeal to be released. "My head, my head," she repeated. "I assure you"--the man motioned to a pallid girl to hold her in the chair. With a towel to protect his hand he undid a screw, lifted off the cap and untwisted the cotton from a bound lock of hair; releasing it, in turn, from the spindle it fell forward in a complete corkscrew over Mrs. Condon's face. "Do you see!" he demanded. "Perfect. I give you my word they'll all be like that. The cursed heat ran up on me," he added in a swift aside to his assistant. "Has Mrs. Bellows gone? Who's still in the place? Here, loose that binding ... thank God, that one is all right, too." Together they unfastened most of the connections, and a growing fringe of long remarkable curls marked Mrs. Condon's pain-drawn and dabbled face. Linda sobbed uncontrollably; but perhaps, after all, nothing frightful had happened. Her poor mother! Then fear again tightened about her heart at the perturbed expression that overtook the hair-dresser. He was trying in vain to remove one of the caps. She caught enigmatic words--"the borax, crystallized ... solid. It would take a plumber ... have to go." The connection was immovable. Even in her suffering Mrs. Condon implored M. Joseph to save her hair. Nothing, however, could be done; he admitted it with pale lips. The thing might be chiseled off; in the end he tried to force a release and the strand, with a renewal of Mrs. Condon's agony--now, in the interest of her appearance, heroically withstood--snapped short in the container. Rapidly recovering her vigor, she launched on a tirade against M. Joseph and his permanent waving establishment--Linda had never before heard her mother talk in such a loud brutal manner, nor use such heated unpleasant words, and the girl was flooded with a wretched shame. Still another lock, it was revealed, had been ruined, and crumbled to mere dust in its owner's fingers. "The law will provide for you," she promised. "Your hair was dyed," the proprietor returned vindictively. "The girl who washed it will testify. Every one is warned against the permanent if their hair has been colored. So it was at your own risk." "My head's never been touched with dye," Mrs. Condon shrilly answered. "You lying little ape. And well does that young woman know it. She complimented me herself on a true blonde." The girl had, too, right before Linda. "You ought to be thrashed out of the city." "Your money will be given back to you," M. Joseph told her. Outside they found a taxi, and sped back to their hotel. Above, Mrs. Condon removed her hat; and, before the uncompromising mirror, studied her wrecked hair--a frizzled vacancy was directly over her left brow--and haggard face. When she finally turned to Linda, her manner, her words, were solemn. "I'm middle-aged," she said. A dreary silence enveloped them sitting in the dark reception-room while Mrs. Condon restlessly shredded unlighted cigarettes on the floor. She had made no effort to repair the damages to her appearance, and when the telephone bell sharply sounded, she reached out in a slovenly negligence of manner. Linda could hear a blurred articulation and her mother answering listlessly. The latter at last said: "Very well, at seven then; you'll stop for us." She hung up the receiver, stared blankly at Linda, and then went off into a harsh mirth. "Oh, my God!" she cried; "the old ladies' home!" XI With her mother away on a wedding-trip with Mr. Moses Feldt, Linda was suddenly projected into the companionship of his two daughters. One, as he had said, was light, but a different fairness from Mrs. Condon's--richly thick, like honey; while Judith, the elder, who must have been twenty, was dark in skin, in everything but her eyes, which were a contrasting ashen-violet. She spoke at once of Linda's flawless whiteness: "A magnolia," she said, in a deliberate dark voice; "you are quite a gorgeous child. Do you mind my saying that your clothes are rather quaint? They aren't inevitable, and yours ought to be that." They were at lunch in the Feldt dining-room, an interior of heavy ornately carved black wood, panels of Chinese embroidery in imperial yellow, and a neutral mauve carpet. The effect, with glittering iridescent pyramids of glass, massive frosted repouss silver, burnished gold-plate and a wide table decoration of orchids and fern, was tropical and intense. It was evident to Linda that the Feldts were very rich indeed. The entire apartment resembled the dining-room, while the building itself filled a whole city block, with a garden and fountains like an elaborate public square. Linda, however, wasn't particularly impressed by such show; she saw that Judith and Pansy had expected that of her; but she was determined not to exhibit a surprise that would imply any changes in her mother's and her condition. In addition, Linda calmly took such surroundings for granted. Her primary conception of possible existence was elegance; its necessity had so entered into her being that it

royally

How many times the word 'royally' appears in the text?

you with that chauffeur we have had so much. I positively forbid your leaving the hotel else. It's a comfort after all, that you are serious. Kiss mama--" However, she descended with her mother in the elevator; there was a more public caress; and the captain in the Chinese dining-room placed Linda at a small table against the wall. There she had clams--she adored iced clams--creamed shrimps and oysters with potatoes _bordure_, alligator-pear salad and a beautiful charlotte cream with black walnuts. After this she sedately instructed the captain what to sign on the back of the dinner check--Linda Condon, room five hundred and seven--placed thirty-five cents beside the finger-bowl for the waiter, and made her way out to the news stand and the talkative girl who had it in charge. Exhausting the possibilities of gossip, and deciding not to go out to the theatre--in spite of the news girl's exciting description of a play called "The New Sin"--she was walking irresolutely through the high gilded and marble assemblage space when, unfortunately, she was captured by Mr. Moses Feldt. VII He led her to a high-backed lounge against the wall, where, seated on its extreme edge, he gazed silently at her with an expression of sentimental concern. Mr. Moses Feldt was a short round man, bald but for a fluffy rim of pale hair, and with the palest imaginable eyes in a countenance perpetually flushed by the physical necessity of accommodating his rotundity to awkward edges and conditions. As usual he was dressed with the nicest care--a band of white linen laid in the opening of his waistcoat, his scarf ornamented by a pear-shaped pearl on a diamond finished stem; his cloth-topped varnished black shoes glistened, while his short fat fingers clasped a prodigious unlighted cigar. At last, in a tone exactly suited to his gaze, he exclaimed: "So that naughty mama has gone out again and deserted Moses and her little Linda!" In what way her mother had deserted Mr. Feldt she failed to understand. Of course he wanted to marry them--the comprehensive phrase was his own--but that didn't include him in whatever they did. Principally it made a joke for their private entertainment. Mrs. Condon would mimic his eager manner, "Stella, let me take you both home where you'll have the best in the land," And, "Ladies like you ought to have a loving protection." Linda would laugh in her cool bell-like manner, and her mother add a satirical comment on the chance any Moses Feldt had of marrying her. Linda at once found him ridiculous and a being who forced a slighting warmth of liking. His appearance was preposterous, the ready emotion often too foolish for words; but underneath there was a--a goodness, a mysterious quality that stirred her heart to recognition. Certain rare things in life and experience affected her like that memory of an old happiness. She could never say what they might be, they came at the oddest times and by the most extraordinary means; but at their occurrence she would thrill for a moment as if in response to a sound of music. It was, for example, absurd that Mr. Moses Feldt, who was a Jew, should make her feel like that, but he did. And all the while that she was disagreeable to him, or mocking him behind his back, she was as uncomfortable and "horrid" as possible. While this fact, of course, only served to make her horrider still. At present she adopted the manner of a patience that nothing could quite exhaust; she was polite and formal, relentlessly correct in position. Mr. Moses Feldt, the cigar in his grasp, pressed a hand to the probable region of his heart. "You don't know how I think of you," he protested, tears in his eyes; "just the idea of you exposed to anything at all in hotels keeps me awake nights. Now it's a drunk, or a fresh feller on the elevator, or--" "It's nice of you," Linda said, "but you needn't worry. No one would dare to bother us. No one ever has." "You wouldn't know it if they did," he replied despondently, "at your age. And then your mother is so trustful and pleasant. Take those parties where she is so much--roof frolics and cocoanut groves and submarine caf s; they don't come to any good. Rowdy." Linda studied him coldly; if he criticized them further she would leave. He mopped a shining brow with a large colorful silk handkerchief. "It throws me into a sweat," he admitted. "Really, Mr. Feldt, you mustn't bother," she told him in one of her few impulses of friendliness. "You see, we are very experienced." He nodded without visible happiness at this truth. "I'm a jackass!" he cried. "Judith tells me that all the time. If you could only see my daughters," he continued with a new vigor; "such lovely girls as they are. One dark like you and the other fair as a daisy. Judith and Pansy. And my home that darling mama made before she died." The handkerchief was again in evidence. "Women and girls are funny. I can't get you there and not for nothing will Judith make a step. It may be pride but it seems to me such nonsense. I guess I'm old-fashioned and love's old-fashioned. Homes have gone out of style with the rest. It's all these restaurants and roofs now, yes, and studios. I tell the girls to stay away from them and from artists and so on. I don't encourage them at the apartment--a big lump of a feller with platinum bracelets on his wrists. What kind of a man would that be! I'd like to know who'd buy goods from him. "Sometimes, I'm sorry I got a lot of money, but it made mama happy. When she laid there at the last sick and couldn't live, I said, 'Oh, if you only won't leave me I'll give you gold to eat.'" He was so moved, his face so red, that Linda grew acutely embarrassed. People were looking at them. She rose stiffly but, in spite of her effort to escape him, he caught both her hands in his: "You say I'm an old idiot like Judith," he begged. This Linda declined to do. And, "Ask your mother if you won't come to dinner with the girls and me, cozy and at home--just once." "I'm afraid it will do no good," she admitted; "but I'll try." She realized that he was about to kiss her and moved quickly back. "I am almost afraid of you," he told her; "you're so distant and elegant. Judith and Pansy would get on with you first rate. I'll telephone tomorrow, in the afternoon. If the last flowers I sent you came I never heard of it." She thanked him appropriately for the roses and stood, erect and impersonal, as a man in the hotel livery helped him into a coat. Mr. Moses Feldt waved the still unlighted cigar at her and disappeared through the rotating door to the street. She gave a half-affected sigh of relief. Couldn't he see that her mother would never marry him. At the same time the strange thrill touched her; the sense of his absurdity vanished and she no longer remembered him perched like a painted rubber ball on the edge of the lounge. In the somber red plush and varnished wood of the reception-room of their suite he seemed again charming. Perhaps it was because he, too, adored her mother. That wasn't the reason. The familiar rare joy lingered. It seemed now as though she were to capture and understand it ... there was the vibration of music; and then, as always, she felt at once sad and brave. But, in spite of her old effort to the contrary, the feeling died away. Some day it would be clear to her; in the meanwhile Mr. Moses Feldt became once more only ridiculous. VIII In the morning she was dressed and had returned from breakfast before her mother stirred. The latter moved sharply, brought an arm up over her head, and swore. It was a long while before she got up or spoke again, and Linda never remembered her in a worse temper. When, finally, she came into the room where the breakfast-tray was laid, Linda was inexpressibly shocked--all that her mother had dreaded about her appearance had come disastrously true. Her face was hung with shadows like smudges of dirt and her eyes were netted with lines. Examining the dishes with distaste she told Linda that positively she could slap her for letting them bring up orange-juice. "How often must I explain to you that it freezes my fingers." Linda replied that she had repeated this in the breakfast-room and perhaps they had the wrong order. Neither her mother nor she said anything more until Mrs. Condon had finished her coffee and started a second cigarette. Then Linda related something of Mr. Moses Feldt's call on the evening before. "He cried right into his handkerchief," she said, "until I thought I should sink." Mrs. Condon eyed her daughter speculatively. "Now if you were only four years older," she declared, "it would be a good thing. He was simply born to be a husband." Horror filled Linda at the other's implication. "Yes," the elder insisted; "you couldn't do better; except, perhaps, for those girls of his. But then you'd have no trouble making them miserable. It's time to talk to you seriously about marriage." The smoke from the cigarette eddied in a gray veil across her unrefreshed face. "You're old for your age, Linda; your life has made you that; and, like I said last night, it is rather better than not. Well, for you marriage, and soon as possible, is the proper thing. Mind, I have never said a word against it; only what suits one doesn't suit another. Where it wouldn't be anything more than an old ladies' home to me you need it early and plenty. You are too intense. That doesn't go in the world. Men don't like it. They want their pleasure and comfort without strings tied to them; the intensity has to be theirs. "What you must get through your head is that love--whatever it is--and marriage are two different things, and if you are going to be successful they must be kept separate. You can't do anything with a man if you love him; but then you can't do anything with him if he doesn't love you. That's the whole thing in a breath. I am not crying down love, either; only I don't want you to think it is the bread and butter while it's nothing more than those little sweet cakes at Henri's. "Now any girl who marries a poor man or for love--they are the same thing--is a fool and deserves what she gets. No one thanks her for it, him least of all; because if she does love him it is only to make them miserable. She's always at him--where did he go and why did he stay so long, and no matter what he says she knows it's a lie. More times than not she's right, too. I can't tell you too often--men don't want to be loved, they like to be flattered and flattered and then flattered again. You'd never believe how childish they are. "Make them think they're it and don't give too much--that's the secret. Above all else don't be easy on them. Don't say 'all right, darling, next spring will do as well for a new suit.' Get it then and let him worry about paying for it, if worry he must. If they don't give it to you some one smarter will wear it. But I started to talk about getting married. "Choose a Moses Feldt, who will always be grateful to you, and keep him at it. They are so easy to land it's a kind of shame, too. Perhaps I am telling you this too soon, but I don't want any mistakes. Well, pick out your Moses--and mama will help you there--and suddenly, at the right time, show him that you can be affectionate; surprise him with it and you so staid and particular generally. Don't overdo it, promise more than you ever give-- "In the closet, dearie, just a little. That's a good girl. Mama's so dry." She rose, the silver cup of the flask in her hand, and moved inevitably to the mirror. "My hair's a sight," she remarked; "all strings. I believe I'll get a permanent wave. They say it lasts for six months or more, till the ends grow out. Makes a lot of it, too, and holds the front together. If you've ever had dye in your hair, I hear, it will break off like grass." Linda pondered over what she had been told of love and marriage; on the whole the exposition had been unsatisfactory. The latter she was able to grasp, but her mother had admitted an inability exactly to fix love. One fact, apparently, was clear--it was a nuisance and a hindrance to happiness, or rather to success. Love upset things. Still she had the strongest objection possible to living forever with a man like Mr. Moses Feldt. At once all that she had hoped for from life grew flat and uninteresting. She had no doubt of her mother's correctness and wisdom; the world was like that; she must make the best of it. There was some telephoning, inquiries, and she heard the elder make an appointment with a hair-dresser for three that afternoon. She wondered what it would be like to have your hair permanently waved and hoped that she would see it done. This, too, she realized, was a part of the necessity of always considering men--they liked your hair to be wavy. Hers was as straight and stupid as possible. She, in turn, examined herself in a mirror: the black bang fell exactly to her eyebrows, her face had no color other than the carnation of her lips and her deep blue eyes. She moved away and critically studied her figure; inches and inches too thin, she decided. Undoubtedly her mother was right, and she must marry at the first opportunity--if she could find a man, a rich man, who was willing. Her thoughts returned vaguely to the mystery, the nuisance, of love. Surely she had heard something before, immensely important, about it, and totally different from all her mother had said. Her mind was filled with the fantastic image of a forest, of dangers, and a fat china figure with curled plumes, a nodding head, that brushed her with fear and disgust. A shuddering panic took possession of her, flashes burned before her eyes, and she ran gasping to the perfumed soft reassurances of her mother. IX In a recurrence of her surprising concern of the day before Mrs. Condon declined to leave her dearest Linda alone; and, their arms caught together in a surging affection, they walked down Fifth Avenue toward the hairdresser's. There was a diffused gray sparkle of sunlight--it was early for the throngs--through which they passed rapidly to the accompaniment of a rapid eager chatter. Linda wore a deep smooth camel's hair cape, over which her intense black hair poured like ink, and her face was shaded by a dipping green velvet hat. Her mother, in one of the tightly cut suits she affected, had never been more like a perfect companion. They saw, in the window of a store for men, a set of violent purple wool underwear, and barely escaped hysterics at the thought of Mr. Moses Feldt in such a garb. They giggled idiotically at the spectacle of a countryman fearfully making the sharp descent from the top of a lurching omnibus. And then, when they had reached the place of Mrs. Condon's appointment, stopped at the show of elaborately waved hair on wax heads and chose which, probably, would resemble the elder and which, in a very short while now, Linda. There was an impressive interior, furnished in gray panels and silvery wood; and the young woman at the desk was more surprisingly waved than anything they had yet seen. M. Joseph would be ready almost immediately; and in the meanwhile Mrs. Condon could lay aside her things in preparation for the hair to be washed. She did this while Linda followed every movement with the deepest interest. At the back of the long room was a succession of small alcoves, each with an important-looking chair and mirror and shelves, a white basin, water-taps and rubber tubes. Settled, in comfort, Mrs. Condon's hair was spread out in a bright metal tray fastened to the back of the chair, and the attendant, a moist tired girl in a careless waist, sprayed the short thick gold-colored strands. "My," she observed, "what some wouldn't give for your shade! Never been touched, I can see, either. A lady comes in with real Titian, but yours is more select. It positively is Lillian Russell." While she talked her hands sped with incredible rapidity and skill. "The gentlemen don't notice it; of course not; oh, no! There was a girl here, a true blonde, but she didn't stay long--her own car, yes, indeed. Married her right out of the establishment. There wasn't any nonsense to her. "So this is your little girl! I'd never have believed it. Not that she hasn't a great deal of style, a great deal--almost, you might say, like an Egyptian. In the movies last night; her all over. It's a type that will need studying. Bertha Kalich. But for me--" Already, Linda saw, this part of the operation was done. The girl wheeled into position a case that had a fan and ring of blue flickering flames, and a cupped tube through which hot air was poured over her mother's head. M. Joseph strutted in, a small carefully dressed man with a diminutive pointed gray beard and formal curled mustache. He spoke with what Linda supposed was a French accent, and his manners, at least to them, were beautiful. But because the girl had not put out the blue flames quickly enough he turned to her with a voice of quivering rage. It was so unexpected, in the middle of his bowing and smooth assurances, that Linda was startled, and had to think about him all over. The result of this was a surprising dislike; she hated, even, to see him touch her mother, as he unnecessarily did in directing them into the enclosure for the permanent wave. The place itself filled her with the faint horror of instruments and the unknown. Above the chair where Mrs. Condon now sat there was a circle in the ceiling like the base of a chandelier and hanging down from it on twisted green wires were a great number of the strangest things imaginable: they were as thick as her wrist, but round, longer and hollow, white china inside and covered with brown wrapping. The wires of each, she discovered, led over a little wheel and down again to a swinging clock-like weight. In addition to this there were strange depressing handles on the wall by a dial with a jiggling needle and clearly marked numbers. The skill of the girl who had washed her mother's hair, however, was slight compared with M. Joseph's dexterity. The comb flashed in his white narrow hands; in no time at all every knot was urged out into a shining smoothness. "Just the front?" he inquired. Not waiting for Mrs. Condon's reply, he detached a strand from the mass over her brow, impaled it on a hairpin, while he picked up what might have been a thick steel knitting-needle with one end fastened in the middle of a silver quarter. The latter, it developed, had a hole in it, through which he drew the strand of hair, and then wrapped it with an angry tightness about the long projection. At this exact moment a new girl, but tired and moist, appeared, took a hank of white threads from a dressing-table, and tied that separate lock firmly. This, Linda counted, was repeated fifteen times; and when it was accomplished she was unable to repress a nervous laughter. Really, her mother looked too queer for words: the long rigid projections stood out all over her head like--like a huge pincushion; no, it was a porcupine. Mrs. Condon smiled in uncertain recognition of her daughter's mirth. Then Linda's attention followed M. Joseph to a table against a partition, where he secured a white cotton strip from a film of them soaking in a shallow tray, took up some white powder on the blade of a dessert knife and transferred it to the strip. This he wrapped and wrapped about the hair fastened on a spindle, tied it in turn, and dragged down one of the brown objects on wires, which, to Linda's great astonishment, fitted precisely over the cotton-bound hair. Again, fifteen times, M. Joseph did this, fastening each connection with the turn of a screw. When so much was accomplished her mother's hair, it seemed, had grown fast to the ceiling in a tangle of green ends. It was the most terrifying spectacle Linda had ever witnessed. Obscure thoughts of torture, of criminals executed by electricity, froze her in a set apprehension. The hair-dresser stepped over to the dials on the wall, and, with a sharp comprehensive glance at his apparatus, moved a handle as far as it would go. Nothing immediately happened, and Linda gave a relaxing sigh of relief. M. Joseph, however, became full of a painful attention. X He brought into view an unsuspected tube, with a cone of paper at its end, and bent over her mother, directing a stream of cold air against her head. "How do you feel?" he asked, with, Linda noticed, a startling loss of his first accent. Mrs. Condon so far felt well enough. Then, before Linda's startled gaze, every single one of the fifteen imprisoning tubes began to steam with an extraordinary vigor; not only did they steam, like teapots, but drops of water formed and slowly slid over her mother's face. If the process appeared weird at the beginning, now it was utterly fantastic. The little white vapor spurts played about Mrs. Condon's dripping countenance; they increased rather than diminished; actually it resembled a wrecked locomotive she had once seen. "How are you?" M. Joseph demanded nervously. "Is it hot anywhere?" With a sudden gesture she replied in a shaking voice, "Here." Instantly he was holding the paper cone with its cold air against her scalp, and the heat was subdued. He glanced nervously at his watch, and Mrs. Condon managed to ask, "How long?" "Twenty minutes." Dangerous as the whole proceeding seemed nothing really happened, and Linda's fears gradually faded into a mere curiosity and interest. A curtain hung across the door to the rest of the establishment, but it had been brushed partly aside; and she could see, in the compartment they had vacated, another man bending with waving irons over the liberated mass of a woman's hair. He was very much like M. Joseph, but he was younger and had only a dark scrap of mustache. As he caught up the hair with a quick double twist he leaned very close to the woman's face, whispering with an expression that never changed, an expression like that of the wax heads in the show-case. He bent so low that Linda was certain their cheeks had touched. She pondered at length over this, gazing now at the man beyond and now at M. Joseph flitting with the cold-air tube about her mother; wondering if, when she grew older, she would like a hair-dresser's cheek against hers. Linda decided not. The idea didn't shock her, the woman in the other space plainly liked it; still she decided she wouldn't. A different kind of man, she told herself, would be nicer. Her thoughts were interrupted by a sharp, unpleasant odor--the odor of scorched hair; and she was absolutely rigid with horror at an agonized cry from her mother. "It's burning me terribly," the latter cried. "Oh, I can't stand it. Stop! Stop!" M. Joseph, as white as plaster, rushed to the wall and reversed the handle, and Mrs. Condon started from the chair, her face now streaming with actual tears; but before she could escape the man threw himself on her shoulders. "You mustn't move," he whispered desperately, "you'll tear your hair out. I tell you no harm's been done. Everything is all right. Please, please don't cry like that. It will ruin my business. There are others in the establishment. Stop!" he shook her viciously. Linda had risen, terrorized; and Mrs. Condon, with waving plucking hands, was sobbing an appeal to be released. "My head, my head," she repeated. "I assure you"--the man motioned to a pallid girl to hold her in the chair. With a towel to protect his hand he undid a screw, lifted off the cap and untwisted the cotton from a bound lock of hair; releasing it, in turn, from the spindle it fell forward in a complete corkscrew over Mrs. Condon's face. "Do you see!" he demanded. "Perfect. I give you my word they'll all be like that. The cursed heat ran up on me," he added in a swift aside to his assistant. "Has Mrs. Bellows gone? Who's still in the place? Here, loose that binding ... thank God, that one is all right, too." Together they unfastened most of the connections, and a growing fringe of long remarkable curls marked Mrs. Condon's pain-drawn and dabbled face. Linda sobbed uncontrollably; but perhaps, after all, nothing frightful had happened. Her poor mother! Then fear again tightened about her heart at the perturbed expression that overtook the hair-dresser. He was trying in vain to remove one of the caps. She caught enigmatic words--"the borax, crystallized ... solid. It would take a plumber ... have to go." The connection was immovable. Even in her suffering Mrs. Condon implored M. Joseph to save her hair. Nothing, however, could be done; he admitted it with pale lips. The thing might be chiseled off; in the end he tried to force a release and the strand, with a renewal of Mrs. Condon's agony--now, in the interest of her appearance, heroically withstood--snapped short in the container. Rapidly recovering her vigor, she launched on a tirade against M. Joseph and his permanent waving establishment--Linda had never before heard her mother talk in such a loud brutal manner, nor use such heated unpleasant words, and the girl was flooded with a wretched shame. Still another lock, it was revealed, had been ruined, and crumbled to mere dust in its owner's fingers. "The law will provide for you," she promised. "Your hair was dyed," the proprietor returned vindictively. "The girl who washed it will testify. Every one is warned against the permanent if their hair has been colored. So it was at your own risk." "My head's never been touched with dye," Mrs. Condon shrilly answered. "You lying little ape. And well does that young woman know it. She complimented me herself on a true blonde." The girl had, too, right before Linda. "You ought to be thrashed out of the city." "Your money will be given back to you," M. Joseph told her. Outside they found a taxi, and sped back to their hotel. Above, Mrs. Condon removed her hat; and, before the uncompromising mirror, studied her wrecked hair--a frizzled vacancy was directly over her left brow--and haggard face. When she finally turned to Linda, her manner, her words, were solemn. "I'm middle-aged," she said. A dreary silence enveloped them sitting in the dark reception-room while Mrs. Condon restlessly shredded unlighted cigarettes on the floor. She had made no effort to repair the damages to her appearance, and when the telephone bell sharply sounded, she reached out in a slovenly negligence of manner. Linda could hear a blurred articulation and her mother answering listlessly. The latter at last said: "Very well, at seven then; you'll stop for us." She hung up the receiver, stared blankly at Linda, and then went off into a harsh mirth. "Oh, my God!" she cried; "the old ladies' home!" XI With her mother away on a wedding-trip with Mr. Moses Feldt, Linda was suddenly projected into the companionship of his two daughters. One, as he had said, was light, but a different fairness from Mrs. Condon's--richly thick, like honey; while Judith, the elder, who must have been twenty, was dark in skin, in everything but her eyes, which were a contrasting ashen-violet. She spoke at once of Linda's flawless whiteness: "A magnolia," she said, in a deliberate dark voice; "you are quite a gorgeous child. Do you mind my saying that your clothes are rather quaint? They aren't inevitable, and yours ought to be that." They were at lunch in the Feldt dining-room, an interior of heavy ornately carved black wood, panels of Chinese embroidery in imperial yellow, and a neutral mauve carpet. The effect, with glittering iridescent pyramids of glass, massive frosted repouss silver, burnished gold-plate and a wide table decoration of orchids and fern, was tropical and intense. It was evident to Linda that the Feldts were very rich indeed. The entire apartment resembled the dining-room, while the building itself filled a whole city block, with a garden and fountains like an elaborate public square. Linda, however, wasn't particularly impressed by such show; she saw that Judith and Pansy had expected that of her; but she was determined not to exhibit a surprise that would imply any changes in her mother's and her condition. In addition, Linda calmly took such surroundings for granted. Her primary conception of possible existence was elegance; its necessity had so entered into her being that it

deserving

How many times the word 'deserving' appears in the text?

you with that chauffeur we have had so much. I positively forbid your leaving the hotel else. It's a comfort after all, that you are serious. Kiss mama--" However, she descended with her mother in the elevator; there was a more public caress; and the captain in the Chinese dining-room placed Linda at a small table against the wall. There she had clams--she adored iced clams--creamed shrimps and oysters with potatoes _bordure_, alligator-pear salad and a beautiful charlotte cream with black walnuts. After this she sedately instructed the captain what to sign on the back of the dinner check--Linda Condon, room five hundred and seven--placed thirty-five cents beside the finger-bowl for the waiter, and made her way out to the news stand and the talkative girl who had it in charge. Exhausting the possibilities of gossip, and deciding not to go out to the theatre--in spite of the news girl's exciting description of a play called "The New Sin"--she was walking irresolutely through the high gilded and marble assemblage space when, unfortunately, she was captured by Mr. Moses Feldt. VII He led her to a high-backed lounge against the wall, where, seated on its extreme edge, he gazed silently at her with an expression of sentimental concern. Mr. Moses Feldt was a short round man, bald but for a fluffy rim of pale hair, and with the palest imaginable eyes in a countenance perpetually flushed by the physical necessity of accommodating his rotundity to awkward edges and conditions. As usual he was dressed with the nicest care--a band of white linen laid in the opening of his waistcoat, his scarf ornamented by a pear-shaped pearl on a diamond finished stem; his cloth-topped varnished black shoes glistened, while his short fat fingers clasped a prodigious unlighted cigar. At last, in a tone exactly suited to his gaze, he exclaimed: "So that naughty mama has gone out again and deserted Moses and her little Linda!" In what way her mother had deserted Mr. Feldt she failed to understand. Of course he wanted to marry them--the comprehensive phrase was his own--but that didn't include him in whatever they did. Principally it made a joke for their private entertainment. Mrs. Condon would mimic his eager manner, "Stella, let me take you both home where you'll have the best in the land," And, "Ladies like you ought to have a loving protection." Linda would laugh in her cool bell-like manner, and her mother add a satirical comment on the chance any Moses Feldt had of marrying her. Linda at once found him ridiculous and a being who forced a slighting warmth of liking. His appearance was preposterous, the ready emotion often too foolish for words; but underneath there was a--a goodness, a mysterious quality that stirred her heart to recognition. Certain rare things in life and experience affected her like that memory of an old happiness. She could never say what they might be, they came at the oddest times and by the most extraordinary means; but at their occurrence she would thrill for a moment as if in response to a sound of music. It was, for example, absurd that Mr. Moses Feldt, who was a Jew, should make her feel like that, but he did. And all the while that she was disagreeable to him, or mocking him behind his back, she was as uncomfortable and "horrid" as possible. While this fact, of course, only served to make her horrider still. At present she adopted the manner of a patience that nothing could quite exhaust; she was polite and formal, relentlessly correct in position. Mr. Moses Feldt, the cigar in his grasp, pressed a hand to the probable region of his heart. "You don't know how I think of you," he protested, tears in his eyes; "just the idea of you exposed to anything at all in hotels keeps me awake nights. Now it's a drunk, or a fresh feller on the elevator, or--" "It's nice of you," Linda said, "but you needn't worry. No one would dare to bother us. No one ever has." "You wouldn't know it if they did," he replied despondently, "at your age. And then your mother is so trustful and pleasant. Take those parties where she is so much--roof frolics and cocoanut groves and submarine caf s; they don't come to any good. Rowdy." Linda studied him coldly; if he criticized them further she would leave. He mopped a shining brow with a large colorful silk handkerchief. "It throws me into a sweat," he admitted. "Really, Mr. Feldt, you mustn't bother," she told him in one of her few impulses of friendliness. "You see, we are very experienced." He nodded without visible happiness at this truth. "I'm a jackass!" he cried. "Judith tells me that all the time. If you could only see my daughters," he continued with a new vigor; "such lovely girls as they are. One dark like you and the other fair as a daisy. Judith and Pansy. And my home that darling mama made before she died." The handkerchief was again in evidence. "Women and girls are funny. I can't get you there and not for nothing will Judith make a step. It may be pride but it seems to me such nonsense. I guess I'm old-fashioned and love's old-fashioned. Homes have gone out of style with the rest. It's all these restaurants and roofs now, yes, and studios. I tell the girls to stay away from them and from artists and so on. I don't encourage them at the apartment--a big lump of a feller with platinum bracelets on his wrists. What kind of a man would that be! I'd like to know who'd buy goods from him. "Sometimes, I'm sorry I got a lot of money, but it made mama happy. When she laid there at the last sick and couldn't live, I said, 'Oh, if you only won't leave me I'll give you gold to eat.'" He was so moved, his face so red, that Linda grew acutely embarrassed. People were looking at them. She rose stiffly but, in spite of her effort to escape him, he caught both her hands in his: "You say I'm an old idiot like Judith," he begged. This Linda declined to do. And, "Ask your mother if you won't come to dinner with the girls and me, cozy and at home--just once." "I'm afraid it will do no good," she admitted; "but I'll try." She realized that he was about to kiss her and moved quickly back. "I am almost afraid of you," he told her; "you're so distant and elegant. Judith and Pansy would get on with you first rate. I'll telephone tomorrow, in the afternoon. If the last flowers I sent you came I never heard of it." She thanked him appropriately for the roses and stood, erect and impersonal, as a man in the hotel livery helped him into a coat. Mr. Moses Feldt waved the still unlighted cigar at her and disappeared through the rotating door to the street. She gave a half-affected sigh of relief. Couldn't he see that her mother would never marry him. At the same time the strange thrill touched her; the sense of his absurdity vanished and she no longer remembered him perched like a painted rubber ball on the edge of the lounge. In the somber red plush and varnished wood of the reception-room of their suite he seemed again charming. Perhaps it was because he, too, adored her mother. That wasn't the reason. The familiar rare joy lingered. It seemed now as though she were to capture and understand it ... there was the vibration of music; and then, as always, she felt at once sad and brave. But, in spite of her old effort to the contrary, the feeling died away. Some day it would be clear to her; in the meanwhile Mr. Moses Feldt became once more only ridiculous. VIII In the morning she was dressed and had returned from breakfast before her mother stirred. The latter moved sharply, brought an arm up over her head, and swore. It was a long while before she got up or spoke again, and Linda never remembered her in a worse temper. When, finally, she came into the room where the breakfast-tray was laid, Linda was inexpressibly shocked--all that her mother had dreaded about her appearance had come disastrously true. Her face was hung with shadows like smudges of dirt and her eyes were netted with lines. Examining the dishes with distaste she told Linda that positively she could slap her for letting them bring up orange-juice. "How often must I explain to you that it freezes my fingers." Linda replied that she had repeated this in the breakfast-room and perhaps they had the wrong order. Neither her mother nor she said anything more until Mrs. Condon had finished her coffee and started a second cigarette. Then Linda related something of Mr. Moses Feldt's call on the evening before. "He cried right into his handkerchief," she said, "until I thought I should sink." Mrs. Condon eyed her daughter speculatively. "Now if you were only four years older," she declared, "it would be a good thing. He was simply born to be a husband." Horror filled Linda at the other's implication. "Yes," the elder insisted; "you couldn't do better; except, perhaps, for those girls of his. But then you'd have no trouble making them miserable. It's time to talk to you seriously about marriage." The smoke from the cigarette eddied in a gray veil across her unrefreshed face. "You're old for your age, Linda; your life has made you that; and, like I said last night, it is rather better than not. Well, for you marriage, and soon as possible, is the proper thing. Mind, I have never said a word against it; only what suits one doesn't suit another. Where it wouldn't be anything more than an old ladies' home to me you need it early and plenty. You are too intense. That doesn't go in the world. Men don't like it. They want their pleasure and comfort without strings tied to them; the intensity has to be theirs. "What you must get through your head is that love--whatever it is--and marriage are two different things, and if you are going to be successful they must be kept separate. You can't do anything with a man if you love him; but then you can't do anything with him if he doesn't love you. That's the whole thing in a breath. I am not crying down love, either; only I don't want you to think it is the bread and butter while it's nothing more than those little sweet cakes at Henri's. "Now any girl who marries a poor man or for love--they are the same thing--is a fool and deserves what she gets. No one thanks her for it, him least of all; because if she does love him it is only to make them miserable. She's always at him--where did he go and why did he stay so long, and no matter what he says she knows it's a lie. More times than not she's right, too. I can't tell you too often--men don't want to be loved, they like to be flattered and flattered and then flattered again. You'd never believe how childish they are. "Make them think they're it and don't give too much--that's the secret. Above all else don't be easy on them. Don't say 'all right, darling, next spring will do as well for a new suit.' Get it then and let him worry about paying for it, if worry he must. If they don't give it to you some one smarter will wear it. But I started to talk about getting married. "Choose a Moses Feldt, who will always be grateful to you, and keep him at it. They are so easy to land it's a kind of shame, too. Perhaps I am telling you this too soon, but I don't want any mistakes. Well, pick out your Moses--and mama will help you there--and suddenly, at the right time, show him that you can be affectionate; surprise him with it and you so staid and particular generally. Don't overdo it, promise more than you ever give-- "In the closet, dearie, just a little. That's a good girl. Mama's so dry." She rose, the silver cup of the flask in her hand, and moved inevitably to the mirror. "My hair's a sight," she remarked; "all strings. I believe I'll get a permanent wave. They say it lasts for six months or more, till the ends grow out. Makes a lot of it, too, and holds the front together. If you've ever had dye in your hair, I hear, it will break off like grass." Linda pondered over what she had been told of love and marriage; on the whole the exposition had been unsatisfactory. The latter she was able to grasp, but her mother had admitted an inability exactly to fix love. One fact, apparently, was clear--it was a nuisance and a hindrance to happiness, or rather to success. Love upset things. Still she had the strongest objection possible to living forever with a man like Mr. Moses Feldt. At once all that she had hoped for from life grew flat and uninteresting. She had no doubt of her mother's correctness and wisdom; the world was like that; she must make the best of it. There was some telephoning, inquiries, and she heard the elder make an appointment with a hair-dresser for three that afternoon. She wondered what it would be like to have your hair permanently waved and hoped that she would see it done. This, too, she realized, was a part of the necessity of always considering men--they liked your hair to be wavy. Hers was as straight and stupid as possible. She, in turn, examined herself in a mirror: the black bang fell exactly to her eyebrows, her face had no color other than the carnation of her lips and her deep blue eyes. She moved away and critically studied her figure; inches and inches too thin, she decided. Undoubtedly her mother was right, and she must marry at the first opportunity--if she could find a man, a rich man, who was willing. Her thoughts returned vaguely to the mystery, the nuisance, of love. Surely she had heard something before, immensely important, about it, and totally different from all her mother had said. Her mind was filled with the fantastic image of a forest, of dangers, and a fat china figure with curled plumes, a nodding head, that brushed her with fear and disgust. A shuddering panic took possession of her, flashes burned before her eyes, and she ran gasping to the perfumed soft reassurances of her mother. IX In a recurrence of her surprising concern of the day before Mrs. Condon declined to leave her dearest Linda alone; and, their arms caught together in a surging affection, they walked down Fifth Avenue toward the hairdresser's. There was a diffused gray sparkle of sunlight--it was early for the throngs--through which they passed rapidly to the accompaniment of a rapid eager chatter. Linda wore a deep smooth camel's hair cape, over which her intense black hair poured like ink, and her face was shaded by a dipping green velvet hat. Her mother, in one of the tightly cut suits she affected, had never been more like a perfect companion. They saw, in the window of a store for men, a set of violent purple wool underwear, and barely escaped hysterics at the thought of Mr. Moses Feldt in such a garb. They giggled idiotically at the spectacle of a countryman fearfully making the sharp descent from the top of a lurching omnibus. And then, when they had reached the place of Mrs. Condon's appointment, stopped at the show of elaborately waved hair on wax heads and chose which, probably, would resemble the elder and which, in a very short while now, Linda. There was an impressive interior, furnished in gray panels and silvery wood; and the young woman at the desk was more surprisingly waved than anything they had yet seen. M. Joseph would be ready almost immediately; and in the meanwhile Mrs. Condon could lay aside her things in preparation for the hair to be washed. She did this while Linda followed every movement with the deepest interest. At the back of the long room was a succession of small alcoves, each with an important-looking chair and mirror and shelves, a white basin, water-taps and rubber tubes. Settled, in comfort, Mrs. Condon's hair was spread out in a bright metal tray fastened to the back of the chair, and the attendant, a moist tired girl in a careless waist, sprayed the short thick gold-colored strands. "My," she observed, "what some wouldn't give for your shade! Never been touched, I can see, either. A lady comes in with real Titian, but yours is more select. It positively is Lillian Russell." While she talked her hands sped with incredible rapidity and skill. "The gentlemen don't notice it; of course not; oh, no! There was a girl here, a true blonde, but she didn't stay long--her own car, yes, indeed. Married her right out of the establishment. There wasn't any nonsense to her. "So this is your little girl! I'd never have believed it. Not that she hasn't a great deal of style, a great deal--almost, you might say, like an Egyptian. In the movies last night; her all over. It's a type that will need studying. Bertha Kalich. But for me--" Already, Linda saw, this part of the operation was done. The girl wheeled into position a case that had a fan and ring of blue flickering flames, and a cupped tube through which hot air was poured over her mother's head. M. Joseph strutted in, a small carefully dressed man with a diminutive pointed gray beard and formal curled mustache. He spoke with what Linda supposed was a French accent, and his manners, at least to them, were beautiful. But because the girl had not put out the blue flames quickly enough he turned to her with a voice of quivering rage. It was so unexpected, in the middle of his bowing and smooth assurances, that Linda was startled, and had to think about him all over. The result of this was a surprising dislike; she hated, even, to see him touch her mother, as he unnecessarily did in directing them into the enclosure for the permanent wave. The place itself filled her with the faint horror of instruments and the unknown. Above the chair where Mrs. Condon now sat there was a circle in the ceiling like the base of a chandelier and hanging down from it on twisted green wires were a great number of the strangest things imaginable: they were as thick as her wrist, but round, longer and hollow, white china inside and covered with brown wrapping. The wires of each, she discovered, led over a little wheel and down again to a swinging clock-like weight. In addition to this there were strange depressing handles on the wall by a dial with a jiggling needle and clearly marked numbers. The skill of the girl who had washed her mother's hair, however, was slight compared with M. Joseph's dexterity. The comb flashed in his white narrow hands; in no time at all every knot was urged out into a shining smoothness. "Just the front?" he inquired. Not waiting for Mrs. Condon's reply, he detached a strand from the mass over her brow, impaled it on a hairpin, while he picked up what might have been a thick steel knitting-needle with one end fastened in the middle of a silver quarter. The latter, it developed, had a hole in it, through which he drew the strand of hair, and then wrapped it with an angry tightness about the long projection. At this exact moment a new girl, but tired and moist, appeared, took a hank of white threads from a dressing-table, and tied that separate lock firmly. This, Linda counted, was repeated fifteen times; and when it was accomplished she was unable to repress a nervous laughter. Really, her mother looked too queer for words: the long rigid projections stood out all over her head like--like a huge pincushion; no, it was a porcupine. Mrs. Condon smiled in uncertain recognition of her daughter's mirth. Then Linda's attention followed M. Joseph to a table against a partition, where he secured a white cotton strip from a film of them soaking in a shallow tray, took up some white powder on the blade of a dessert knife and transferred it to the strip. This he wrapped and wrapped about the hair fastened on a spindle, tied it in turn, and dragged down one of the brown objects on wires, which, to Linda's great astonishment, fitted precisely over the cotton-bound hair. Again, fifteen times, M. Joseph did this, fastening each connection with the turn of a screw. When so much was accomplished her mother's hair, it seemed, had grown fast to the ceiling in a tangle of green ends. It was the most terrifying spectacle Linda had ever witnessed. Obscure thoughts of torture, of criminals executed by electricity, froze her in a set apprehension. The hair-dresser stepped over to the dials on the wall, and, with a sharp comprehensive glance at his apparatus, moved a handle as far as it would go. Nothing immediately happened, and Linda gave a relaxing sigh of relief. M. Joseph, however, became full of a painful attention. X He brought into view an unsuspected tube, with a cone of paper at its end, and bent over her mother, directing a stream of cold air against her head. "How do you feel?" he asked, with, Linda noticed, a startling loss of his first accent. Mrs. Condon so far felt well enough. Then, before Linda's startled gaze, every single one of the fifteen imprisoning tubes began to steam with an extraordinary vigor; not only did they steam, like teapots, but drops of water formed and slowly slid over her mother's face. If the process appeared weird at the beginning, now it was utterly fantastic. The little white vapor spurts played about Mrs. Condon's dripping countenance; they increased rather than diminished; actually it resembled a wrecked locomotive she had once seen. "How are you?" M. Joseph demanded nervously. "Is it hot anywhere?" With a sudden gesture she replied in a shaking voice, "Here." Instantly he was holding the paper cone with its cold air against her scalp, and the heat was subdued. He glanced nervously at his watch, and Mrs. Condon managed to ask, "How long?" "Twenty minutes." Dangerous as the whole proceeding seemed nothing really happened, and Linda's fears gradually faded into a mere curiosity and interest. A curtain hung across the door to the rest of the establishment, but it had been brushed partly aside; and she could see, in the compartment they had vacated, another man bending with waving irons over the liberated mass of a woman's hair. He was very much like M. Joseph, but he was younger and had only a dark scrap of mustache. As he caught up the hair with a quick double twist he leaned very close to the woman's face, whispering with an expression that never changed, an expression like that of the wax heads in the show-case. He bent so low that Linda was certain their cheeks had touched. She pondered at length over this, gazing now at the man beyond and now at M. Joseph flitting with the cold-air tube about her mother; wondering if, when she grew older, she would like a hair-dresser's cheek against hers. Linda decided not. The idea didn't shock her, the woman in the other space plainly liked it; still she decided she wouldn't. A different kind of man, she told herself, would be nicer. Her thoughts were interrupted by a sharp, unpleasant odor--the odor of scorched hair; and she was absolutely rigid with horror at an agonized cry from her mother. "It's burning me terribly," the latter cried. "Oh, I can't stand it. Stop! Stop!" M. Joseph, as white as plaster, rushed to the wall and reversed the handle, and Mrs. Condon started from the chair, her face now streaming with actual tears; but before she could escape the man threw himself on her shoulders. "You mustn't move," he whispered desperately, "you'll tear your hair out. I tell you no harm's been done. Everything is all right. Please, please don't cry like that. It will ruin my business. There are others in the establishment. Stop!" he shook her viciously. Linda had risen, terrorized; and Mrs. Condon, with waving plucking hands, was sobbing an appeal to be released. "My head, my head," she repeated. "I assure you"--the man motioned to a pallid girl to hold her in the chair. With a towel to protect his hand he undid a screw, lifted off the cap and untwisted the cotton from a bound lock of hair; releasing it, in turn, from the spindle it fell forward in a complete corkscrew over Mrs. Condon's face. "Do you see!" he demanded. "Perfect. I give you my word they'll all be like that. The cursed heat ran up on me," he added in a swift aside to his assistant. "Has Mrs. Bellows gone? Who's still in the place? Here, loose that binding ... thank God, that one is all right, too." Together they unfastened most of the connections, and a growing fringe of long remarkable curls marked Mrs. Condon's pain-drawn and dabbled face. Linda sobbed uncontrollably; but perhaps, after all, nothing frightful had happened. Her poor mother! Then fear again tightened about her heart at the perturbed expression that overtook the hair-dresser. He was trying in vain to remove one of the caps. She caught enigmatic words--"the borax, crystallized ... solid. It would take a plumber ... have to go." The connection was immovable. Even in her suffering Mrs. Condon implored M. Joseph to save her hair. Nothing, however, could be done; he admitted it with pale lips. The thing might be chiseled off; in the end he tried to force a release and the strand, with a renewal of Mrs. Condon's agony--now, in the interest of her appearance, heroically withstood--snapped short in the container. Rapidly recovering her vigor, she launched on a tirade against M. Joseph and his permanent waving establishment--Linda had never before heard her mother talk in such a loud brutal manner, nor use such heated unpleasant words, and the girl was flooded with a wretched shame. Still another lock, it was revealed, had been ruined, and crumbled to mere dust in its owner's fingers. "The law will provide for you," she promised. "Your hair was dyed," the proprietor returned vindictively. "The girl who washed it will testify. Every one is warned against the permanent if their hair has been colored. So it was at your own risk." "My head's never been touched with dye," Mrs. Condon shrilly answered. "You lying little ape. And well does that young woman know it. She complimented me herself on a true blonde." The girl had, too, right before Linda. "You ought to be thrashed out of the city." "Your money will be given back to you," M. Joseph told her. Outside they found a taxi, and sped back to their hotel. Above, Mrs. Condon removed her hat; and, before the uncompromising mirror, studied her wrecked hair--a frizzled vacancy was directly over her left brow--and haggard face. When she finally turned to Linda, her manner, her words, were solemn. "I'm middle-aged," she said. A dreary silence enveloped them sitting in the dark reception-room while Mrs. Condon restlessly shredded unlighted cigarettes on the floor. She had made no effort to repair the damages to her appearance, and when the telephone bell sharply sounded, she reached out in a slovenly negligence of manner. Linda could hear a blurred articulation and her mother answering listlessly. The latter at last said: "Very well, at seven then; you'll stop for us." She hung up the receiver, stared blankly at Linda, and then went off into a harsh mirth. "Oh, my God!" she cried; "the old ladies' home!" XI With her mother away on a wedding-trip with Mr. Moses Feldt, Linda was suddenly projected into the companionship of his two daughters. One, as he had said, was light, but a different fairness from Mrs. Condon's--richly thick, like honey; while Judith, the elder, who must have been twenty, was dark in skin, in everything but her eyes, which were a contrasting ashen-violet. She spoke at once of Linda's flawless whiteness: "A magnolia," she said, in a deliberate dark voice; "you are quite a gorgeous child. Do you mind my saying that your clothes are rather quaint? They aren't inevitable, and yours ought to be that." They were at lunch in the Feldt dining-room, an interior of heavy ornately carved black wood, panels of Chinese embroidery in imperial yellow, and a neutral mauve carpet. The effect, with glittering iridescent pyramids of glass, massive frosted repouss silver, burnished gold-plate and a wide table decoration of orchids and fern, was tropical and intense. It was evident to Linda that the Feldts were very rich indeed. The entire apartment resembled the dining-room, while the building itself filled a whole city block, with a garden and fountains like an elaborate public square. Linda, however, wasn't particularly impressed by such show; she saw that Judith and Pansy had expected that of her; but she was determined not to exhibit a surprise that would imply any changes in her mother's and her condition. In addition, Linda calmly took such surroundings for granted. Her primary conception of possible existence was elegance; its necessity had so entered into her being that it

feller

How many times the word 'feller' appears in the text?

you with that chauffeur we have had so much. I positively forbid your leaving the hotel else. It's a comfort after all, that you are serious. Kiss mama--" However, she descended with her mother in the elevator; there was a more public caress; and the captain in the Chinese dining-room placed Linda at a small table against the wall. There she had clams--she adored iced clams--creamed shrimps and oysters with potatoes _bordure_, alligator-pear salad and a beautiful charlotte cream with black walnuts. After this she sedately instructed the captain what to sign on the back of the dinner check--Linda Condon, room five hundred and seven--placed thirty-five cents beside the finger-bowl for the waiter, and made her way out to the news stand and the talkative girl who had it in charge. Exhausting the possibilities of gossip, and deciding not to go out to the theatre--in spite of the news girl's exciting description of a play called "The New Sin"--she was walking irresolutely through the high gilded and marble assemblage space when, unfortunately, she was captured by Mr. Moses Feldt. VII He led her to a high-backed lounge against the wall, where, seated on its extreme edge, he gazed silently at her with an expression of sentimental concern. Mr. Moses Feldt was a short round man, bald but for a fluffy rim of pale hair, and with the palest imaginable eyes in a countenance perpetually flushed by the physical necessity of accommodating his rotundity to awkward edges and conditions. As usual he was dressed with the nicest care--a band of white linen laid in the opening of his waistcoat, his scarf ornamented by a pear-shaped pearl on a diamond finished stem; his cloth-topped varnished black shoes glistened, while his short fat fingers clasped a prodigious unlighted cigar. At last, in a tone exactly suited to his gaze, he exclaimed: "So that naughty mama has gone out again and deserted Moses and her little Linda!" In what way her mother had deserted Mr. Feldt she failed to understand. Of course he wanted to marry them--the comprehensive phrase was his own--but that didn't include him in whatever they did. Principally it made a joke for their private entertainment. Mrs. Condon would mimic his eager manner, "Stella, let me take you both home where you'll have the best in the land," And, "Ladies like you ought to have a loving protection." Linda would laugh in her cool bell-like manner, and her mother add a satirical comment on the chance any Moses Feldt had of marrying her. Linda at once found him ridiculous and a being who forced a slighting warmth of liking. His appearance was preposterous, the ready emotion often too foolish for words; but underneath there was a--a goodness, a mysterious quality that stirred her heart to recognition. Certain rare things in life and experience affected her like that memory of an old happiness. She could never say what they might be, they came at the oddest times and by the most extraordinary means; but at their occurrence she would thrill for a moment as if in response to a sound of music. It was, for example, absurd that Mr. Moses Feldt, who was a Jew, should make her feel like that, but he did. And all the while that she was disagreeable to him, or mocking him behind his back, she was as uncomfortable and "horrid" as possible. While this fact, of course, only served to make her horrider still. At present she adopted the manner of a patience that nothing could quite exhaust; she was polite and formal, relentlessly correct in position. Mr. Moses Feldt, the cigar in his grasp, pressed a hand to the probable region of his heart. "You don't know how I think of you," he protested, tears in his eyes; "just the idea of you exposed to anything at all in hotels keeps me awake nights. Now it's a drunk, or a fresh feller on the elevator, or--" "It's nice of you," Linda said, "but you needn't worry. No one would dare to bother us. No one ever has." "You wouldn't know it if they did," he replied despondently, "at your age. And then your mother is so trustful and pleasant. Take those parties where she is so much--roof frolics and cocoanut groves and submarine caf s; they don't come to any good. Rowdy." Linda studied him coldly; if he criticized them further she would leave. He mopped a shining brow with a large colorful silk handkerchief. "It throws me into a sweat," he admitted. "Really, Mr. Feldt, you mustn't bother," she told him in one of her few impulses of friendliness. "You see, we are very experienced." He nodded without visible happiness at this truth. "I'm a jackass!" he cried. "Judith tells me that all the time. If you could only see my daughters," he continued with a new vigor; "such lovely girls as they are. One dark like you and the other fair as a daisy. Judith and Pansy. And my home that darling mama made before she died." The handkerchief was again in evidence. "Women and girls are funny. I can't get you there and not for nothing will Judith make a step. It may be pride but it seems to me such nonsense. I guess I'm old-fashioned and love's old-fashioned. Homes have gone out of style with the rest. It's all these restaurants and roofs now, yes, and studios. I tell the girls to stay away from them and from artists and so on. I don't encourage them at the apartment--a big lump of a feller with platinum bracelets on his wrists. What kind of a man would that be! I'd like to know who'd buy goods from him. "Sometimes, I'm sorry I got a lot of money, but it made mama happy. When she laid there at the last sick and couldn't live, I said, 'Oh, if you only won't leave me I'll give you gold to eat.'" He was so moved, his face so red, that Linda grew acutely embarrassed. People were looking at them. She rose stiffly but, in spite of her effort to escape him, he caught both her hands in his: "You say I'm an old idiot like Judith," he begged. This Linda declined to do. And, "Ask your mother if you won't come to dinner with the girls and me, cozy and at home--just once." "I'm afraid it will do no good," she admitted; "but I'll try." She realized that he was about to kiss her and moved quickly back. "I am almost afraid of you," he told her; "you're so distant and elegant. Judith and Pansy would get on with you first rate. I'll telephone tomorrow, in the afternoon. If the last flowers I sent you came I never heard of it." She thanked him appropriately for the roses and stood, erect and impersonal, as a man in the hotel livery helped him into a coat. Mr. Moses Feldt waved the still unlighted cigar at her and disappeared through the rotating door to the street. She gave a half-affected sigh of relief. Couldn't he see that her mother would never marry him. At the same time the strange thrill touched her; the sense of his absurdity vanished and she no longer remembered him perched like a painted rubber ball on the edge of the lounge. In the somber red plush and varnished wood of the reception-room of their suite he seemed again charming. Perhaps it was because he, too, adored her mother. That wasn't the reason. The familiar rare joy lingered. It seemed now as though she were to capture and understand it ... there was the vibration of music; and then, as always, she felt at once sad and brave. But, in spite of her old effort to the contrary, the feeling died away. Some day it would be clear to her; in the meanwhile Mr. Moses Feldt became once more only ridiculous. VIII In the morning she was dressed and had returned from breakfast before her mother stirred. The latter moved sharply, brought an arm up over her head, and swore. It was a long while before she got up or spoke again, and Linda never remembered her in a worse temper. When, finally, she came into the room where the breakfast-tray was laid, Linda was inexpressibly shocked--all that her mother had dreaded about her appearance had come disastrously true. Her face was hung with shadows like smudges of dirt and her eyes were netted with lines. Examining the dishes with distaste she told Linda that positively she could slap her for letting them bring up orange-juice. "How often must I explain to you that it freezes my fingers." Linda replied that she had repeated this in the breakfast-room and perhaps they had the wrong order. Neither her mother nor she said anything more until Mrs. Condon had finished her coffee and started a second cigarette. Then Linda related something of Mr. Moses Feldt's call on the evening before. "He cried right into his handkerchief," she said, "until I thought I should sink." Mrs. Condon eyed her daughter speculatively. "Now if you were only four years older," she declared, "it would be a good thing. He was simply born to be a husband." Horror filled Linda at the other's implication. "Yes," the elder insisted; "you couldn't do better; except, perhaps, for those girls of his. But then you'd have no trouble making them miserable. It's time to talk to you seriously about marriage." The smoke from the cigarette eddied in a gray veil across her unrefreshed face. "You're old for your age, Linda; your life has made you that; and, like I said last night, it is rather better than not. Well, for you marriage, and soon as possible, is the proper thing. Mind, I have never said a word against it; only what suits one doesn't suit another. Where it wouldn't be anything more than an old ladies' home to me you need it early and plenty. You are too intense. That doesn't go in the world. Men don't like it. They want their pleasure and comfort without strings tied to them; the intensity has to be theirs. "What you must get through your head is that love--whatever it is--and marriage are two different things, and if you are going to be successful they must be kept separate. You can't do anything with a man if you love him; but then you can't do anything with him if he doesn't love you. That's the whole thing in a breath. I am not crying down love, either; only I don't want you to think it is the bread and butter while it's nothing more than those little sweet cakes at Henri's. "Now any girl who marries a poor man or for love--they are the same thing--is a fool and deserves what she gets. No one thanks her for it, him least of all; because if she does love him it is only to make them miserable. She's always at him--where did he go and why did he stay so long, and no matter what he says she knows it's a lie. More times than not she's right, too. I can't tell you too often--men don't want to be loved, they like to be flattered and flattered and then flattered again. You'd never believe how childish they are. "Make them think they're it and don't give too much--that's the secret. Above all else don't be easy on them. Don't say 'all right, darling, next spring will do as well for a new suit.' Get it then and let him worry about paying for it, if worry he must. If they don't give it to you some one smarter will wear it. But I started to talk about getting married. "Choose a Moses Feldt, who will always be grateful to you, and keep him at it. They are so easy to land it's a kind of shame, too. Perhaps I am telling you this too soon, but I don't want any mistakes. Well, pick out your Moses--and mama will help you there--and suddenly, at the right time, show him that you can be affectionate; surprise him with it and you so staid and particular generally. Don't overdo it, promise more than you ever give-- "In the closet, dearie, just a little. That's a good girl. Mama's so dry." She rose, the silver cup of the flask in her hand, and moved inevitably to the mirror. "My hair's a sight," she remarked; "all strings. I believe I'll get a permanent wave. They say it lasts for six months or more, till the ends grow out. Makes a lot of it, too, and holds the front together. If you've ever had dye in your hair, I hear, it will break off like grass." Linda pondered over what she had been told of love and marriage; on the whole the exposition had been unsatisfactory. The latter she was able to grasp, but her mother had admitted an inability exactly to fix love. One fact, apparently, was clear--it was a nuisance and a hindrance to happiness, or rather to success. Love upset things. Still she had the strongest objection possible to living forever with a man like Mr. Moses Feldt. At once all that she had hoped for from life grew flat and uninteresting. She had no doubt of her mother's correctness and wisdom; the world was like that; she must make the best of it. There was some telephoning, inquiries, and she heard the elder make an appointment with a hair-dresser for three that afternoon. She wondered what it would be like to have your hair permanently waved and hoped that she would see it done. This, too, she realized, was a part of the necessity of always considering men--they liked your hair to be wavy. Hers was as straight and stupid as possible. She, in turn, examined herself in a mirror: the black bang fell exactly to her eyebrows, her face had no color other than the carnation of her lips and her deep blue eyes. She moved away and critically studied her figure; inches and inches too thin, she decided. Undoubtedly her mother was right, and she must marry at the first opportunity--if she could find a man, a rich man, who was willing. Her thoughts returned vaguely to the mystery, the nuisance, of love. Surely she had heard something before, immensely important, about it, and totally different from all her mother had said. Her mind was filled with the fantastic image of a forest, of dangers, and a fat china figure with curled plumes, a nodding head, that brushed her with fear and disgust. A shuddering panic took possession of her, flashes burned before her eyes, and she ran gasping to the perfumed soft reassurances of her mother. IX In a recurrence of her surprising concern of the day before Mrs. Condon declined to leave her dearest Linda alone; and, their arms caught together in a surging affection, they walked down Fifth Avenue toward the hairdresser's. There was a diffused gray sparkle of sunlight--it was early for the throngs--through which they passed rapidly to the accompaniment of a rapid eager chatter. Linda wore a deep smooth camel's hair cape, over which her intense black hair poured like ink, and her face was shaded by a dipping green velvet hat. Her mother, in one of the tightly cut suits she affected, had never been more like a perfect companion. They saw, in the window of a store for men, a set of violent purple wool underwear, and barely escaped hysterics at the thought of Mr. Moses Feldt in such a garb. They giggled idiotically at the spectacle of a countryman fearfully making the sharp descent from the top of a lurching omnibus. And then, when they had reached the place of Mrs. Condon's appointment, stopped at the show of elaborately waved hair on wax heads and chose which, probably, would resemble the elder and which, in a very short while now, Linda. There was an impressive interior, furnished in gray panels and silvery wood; and the young woman at the desk was more surprisingly waved than anything they had yet seen. M. Joseph would be ready almost immediately; and in the meanwhile Mrs. Condon could lay aside her things in preparation for the hair to be washed. She did this while Linda followed every movement with the deepest interest. At the back of the long room was a succession of small alcoves, each with an important-looking chair and mirror and shelves, a white basin, water-taps and rubber tubes. Settled, in comfort, Mrs. Condon's hair was spread out in a bright metal tray fastened to the back of the chair, and the attendant, a moist tired girl in a careless waist, sprayed the short thick gold-colored strands. "My," she observed, "what some wouldn't give for your shade! Never been touched, I can see, either. A lady comes in with real Titian, but yours is more select. It positively is Lillian Russell." While she talked her hands sped with incredible rapidity and skill. "The gentlemen don't notice it; of course not; oh, no! There was a girl here, a true blonde, but she didn't stay long--her own car, yes, indeed. Married her right out of the establishment. There wasn't any nonsense to her. "So this is your little girl! I'd never have believed it. Not that she hasn't a great deal of style, a great deal--almost, you might say, like an Egyptian. In the movies last night; her all over. It's a type that will need studying. Bertha Kalich. But for me--" Already, Linda saw, this part of the operation was done. The girl wheeled into position a case that had a fan and ring of blue flickering flames, and a cupped tube through which hot air was poured over her mother's head. M. Joseph strutted in, a small carefully dressed man with a diminutive pointed gray beard and formal curled mustache. He spoke with what Linda supposed was a French accent, and his manners, at least to them, were beautiful. But because the girl had not put out the blue flames quickly enough he turned to her with a voice of quivering rage. It was so unexpected, in the middle of his bowing and smooth assurances, that Linda was startled, and had to think about him all over. The result of this was a surprising dislike; she hated, even, to see him touch her mother, as he unnecessarily did in directing them into the enclosure for the permanent wave. The place itself filled her with the faint horror of instruments and the unknown. Above the chair where Mrs. Condon now sat there was a circle in the ceiling like the base of a chandelier and hanging down from it on twisted green wires were a great number of the strangest things imaginable: they were as thick as her wrist, but round, longer and hollow, white china inside and covered with brown wrapping. The wires of each, she discovered, led over a little wheel and down again to a swinging clock-like weight. In addition to this there were strange depressing handles on the wall by a dial with a jiggling needle and clearly marked numbers. The skill of the girl who had washed her mother's hair, however, was slight compared with M. Joseph's dexterity. The comb flashed in his white narrow hands; in no time at all every knot was urged out into a shining smoothness. "Just the front?" he inquired. Not waiting for Mrs. Condon's reply, he detached a strand from the mass over her brow, impaled it on a hairpin, while he picked up what might have been a thick steel knitting-needle with one end fastened in the middle of a silver quarter. The latter, it developed, had a hole in it, through which he drew the strand of hair, and then wrapped it with an angry tightness about the long projection. At this exact moment a new girl, but tired and moist, appeared, took a hank of white threads from a dressing-table, and tied that separate lock firmly. This, Linda counted, was repeated fifteen times; and when it was accomplished she was unable to repress a nervous laughter. Really, her mother looked too queer for words: the long rigid projections stood out all over her head like--like a huge pincushion; no, it was a porcupine. Mrs. Condon smiled in uncertain recognition of her daughter's mirth. Then Linda's attention followed M. Joseph to a table against a partition, where he secured a white cotton strip from a film of them soaking in a shallow tray, took up some white powder on the blade of a dessert knife and transferred it to the strip. This he wrapped and wrapped about the hair fastened on a spindle, tied it in turn, and dragged down one of the brown objects on wires, which, to Linda's great astonishment, fitted precisely over the cotton-bound hair. Again, fifteen times, M. Joseph did this, fastening each connection with the turn of a screw. When so much was accomplished her mother's hair, it seemed, had grown fast to the ceiling in a tangle of green ends. It was the most terrifying spectacle Linda had ever witnessed. Obscure thoughts of torture, of criminals executed by electricity, froze her in a set apprehension. The hair-dresser stepped over to the dials on the wall, and, with a sharp comprehensive glance at his apparatus, moved a handle as far as it would go. Nothing immediately happened, and Linda gave a relaxing sigh of relief. M. Joseph, however, became full of a painful attention. X He brought into view an unsuspected tube, with a cone of paper at its end, and bent over her mother, directing a stream of cold air against her head. "How do you feel?" he asked, with, Linda noticed, a startling loss of his first accent. Mrs. Condon so far felt well enough. Then, before Linda's startled gaze, every single one of the fifteen imprisoning tubes began to steam with an extraordinary vigor; not only did they steam, like teapots, but drops of water formed and slowly slid over her mother's face. If the process appeared weird at the beginning, now it was utterly fantastic. The little white vapor spurts played about Mrs. Condon's dripping countenance; they increased rather than diminished; actually it resembled a wrecked locomotive she had once seen. "How are you?" M. Joseph demanded nervously. "Is it hot anywhere?" With a sudden gesture she replied in a shaking voice, "Here." Instantly he was holding the paper cone with its cold air against her scalp, and the heat was subdued. He glanced nervously at his watch, and Mrs. Condon managed to ask, "How long?" "Twenty minutes." Dangerous as the whole proceeding seemed nothing really happened, and Linda's fears gradually faded into a mere curiosity and interest. A curtain hung across the door to the rest of the establishment, but it had been brushed partly aside; and she could see, in the compartment they had vacated, another man bending with waving irons over the liberated mass of a woman's hair. He was very much like M. Joseph, but he was younger and had only a dark scrap of mustache. As he caught up the hair with a quick double twist he leaned very close to the woman's face, whispering with an expression that never changed, an expression like that of the wax heads in the show-case. He bent so low that Linda was certain their cheeks had touched. She pondered at length over this, gazing now at the man beyond and now at M. Joseph flitting with the cold-air tube about her mother; wondering if, when she grew older, she would like a hair-dresser's cheek against hers. Linda decided not. The idea didn't shock her, the woman in the other space plainly liked it; still she decided she wouldn't. A different kind of man, she told herself, would be nicer. Her thoughts were interrupted by a sharp, unpleasant odor--the odor of scorched hair; and she was absolutely rigid with horror at an agonized cry from her mother. "It's burning me terribly," the latter cried. "Oh, I can't stand it. Stop! Stop!" M. Joseph, as white as plaster, rushed to the wall and reversed the handle, and Mrs. Condon started from the chair, her face now streaming with actual tears; but before she could escape the man threw himself on her shoulders. "You mustn't move," he whispered desperately, "you'll tear your hair out. I tell you no harm's been done. Everything is all right. Please, please don't cry like that. It will ruin my business. There are others in the establishment. Stop!" he shook her viciously. Linda had risen, terrorized; and Mrs. Condon, with waving plucking hands, was sobbing an appeal to be released. "My head, my head," she repeated. "I assure you"--the man motioned to a pallid girl to hold her in the chair. With a towel to protect his hand he undid a screw, lifted off the cap and untwisted the cotton from a bound lock of hair; releasing it, in turn, from the spindle it fell forward in a complete corkscrew over Mrs. Condon's face. "Do you see!" he demanded. "Perfect. I give you my word they'll all be like that. The cursed heat ran up on me," he added in a swift aside to his assistant. "Has Mrs. Bellows gone? Who's still in the place? Here, loose that binding ... thank God, that one is all right, too." Together they unfastened most of the connections, and a growing fringe of long remarkable curls marked Mrs. Condon's pain-drawn and dabbled face. Linda sobbed uncontrollably; but perhaps, after all, nothing frightful had happened. Her poor mother! Then fear again tightened about her heart at the perturbed expression that overtook the hair-dresser. He was trying in vain to remove one of the caps. She caught enigmatic words--"the borax, crystallized ... solid. It would take a plumber ... have to go." The connection was immovable. Even in her suffering Mrs. Condon implored M. Joseph to save her hair. Nothing, however, could be done; he admitted it with pale lips. The thing might be chiseled off; in the end he tried to force a release and the strand, with a renewal of Mrs. Condon's agony--now, in the interest of her appearance, heroically withstood--snapped short in the container. Rapidly recovering her vigor, she launched on a tirade against M. Joseph and his permanent waving establishment--Linda had never before heard her mother talk in such a loud brutal manner, nor use such heated unpleasant words, and the girl was flooded with a wretched shame. Still another lock, it was revealed, had been ruined, and crumbled to mere dust in its owner's fingers. "The law will provide for you," she promised. "Your hair was dyed," the proprietor returned vindictively. "The girl who washed it will testify. Every one is warned against the permanent if their hair has been colored. So it was at your own risk." "My head's never been touched with dye," Mrs. Condon shrilly answered. "You lying little ape. And well does that young woman know it. She complimented me herself on a true blonde." The girl had, too, right before Linda. "You ought to be thrashed out of the city." "Your money will be given back to you," M. Joseph told her. Outside they found a taxi, and sped back to their hotel. Above, Mrs. Condon removed her hat; and, before the uncompromising mirror, studied her wrecked hair--a frizzled vacancy was directly over her left brow--and haggard face. When she finally turned to Linda, her manner, her words, were solemn. "I'm middle-aged," she said. A dreary silence enveloped them sitting in the dark reception-room while Mrs. Condon restlessly shredded unlighted cigarettes on the floor. She had made no effort to repair the damages to her appearance, and when the telephone bell sharply sounded, she reached out in a slovenly negligence of manner. Linda could hear a blurred articulation and her mother answering listlessly. The latter at last said: "Very well, at seven then; you'll stop for us." She hung up the receiver, stared blankly at Linda, and then went off into a harsh mirth. "Oh, my God!" she cried; "the old ladies' home!" XI With her mother away on a wedding-trip with Mr. Moses Feldt, Linda was suddenly projected into the companionship of his two daughters. One, as he had said, was light, but a different fairness from Mrs. Condon's--richly thick, like honey; while Judith, the elder, who must have been twenty, was dark in skin, in everything but her eyes, which were a contrasting ashen-violet. She spoke at once of Linda's flawless whiteness: "A magnolia," she said, in a deliberate dark voice; "you are quite a gorgeous child. Do you mind my saying that your clothes are rather quaint? They aren't inevitable, and yours ought to be that." They were at lunch in the Feldt dining-room, an interior of heavy ornately carved black wood, panels of Chinese embroidery in imperial yellow, and a neutral mauve carpet. The effect, with glittering iridescent pyramids of glass, massive frosted repouss silver, burnished gold-plate and a wide table decoration of orchids and fern, was tropical and intense. It was evident to Linda that the Feldts were very rich indeed. The entire apartment resembled the dining-room, while the building itself filled a whole city block, with a garden and fountains like an elaborate public square. Linda, however, wasn't particularly impressed by such show; she saw that Judith and Pansy had expected that of her; but she was determined not to exhibit a surprise that would imply any changes in her mother's and her condition. In addition, Linda calmly took such surroundings for granted. Her primary conception of possible existence was elegance; its necessity had so entered into her being that it

fixin

How many times the word 'fixin' appears in the text?

you with that chauffeur we have had so much. I positively forbid your leaving the hotel else. It's a comfort after all, that you are serious. Kiss mama--" However, she descended with her mother in the elevator; there was a more public caress; and the captain in the Chinese dining-room placed Linda at a small table against the wall. There she had clams--she adored iced clams--creamed shrimps and oysters with potatoes _bordure_, alligator-pear salad and a beautiful charlotte cream with black walnuts. After this she sedately instructed the captain what to sign on the back of the dinner check--Linda Condon, room five hundred and seven--placed thirty-five cents beside the finger-bowl for the waiter, and made her way out to the news stand and the talkative girl who had it in charge. Exhausting the possibilities of gossip, and deciding not to go out to the theatre--in spite of the news girl's exciting description of a play called "The New Sin"--she was walking irresolutely through the high gilded and marble assemblage space when, unfortunately, she was captured by Mr. Moses Feldt. VII He led her to a high-backed lounge against the wall, where, seated on its extreme edge, he gazed silently at her with an expression of sentimental concern. Mr. Moses Feldt was a short round man, bald but for a fluffy rim of pale hair, and with the palest imaginable eyes in a countenance perpetually flushed by the physical necessity of accommodating his rotundity to awkward edges and conditions. As usual he was dressed with the nicest care--a band of white linen laid in the opening of his waistcoat, his scarf ornamented by a pear-shaped pearl on a diamond finished stem; his cloth-topped varnished black shoes glistened, while his short fat fingers clasped a prodigious unlighted cigar. At last, in a tone exactly suited to his gaze, he exclaimed: "So that naughty mama has gone out again and deserted Moses and her little Linda!" In what way her mother had deserted Mr. Feldt she failed to understand. Of course he wanted to marry them--the comprehensive phrase was his own--but that didn't include him in whatever they did. Principally it made a joke for their private entertainment. Mrs. Condon would mimic his eager manner, "Stella, let me take you both home where you'll have the best in the land," And, "Ladies like you ought to have a loving protection." Linda would laugh in her cool bell-like manner, and her mother add a satirical comment on the chance any Moses Feldt had of marrying her. Linda at once found him ridiculous and a being who forced a slighting warmth of liking. His appearance was preposterous, the ready emotion often too foolish for words; but underneath there was a--a goodness, a mysterious quality that stirred her heart to recognition. Certain rare things in life and experience affected her like that memory of an old happiness. She could never say what they might be, they came at the oddest times and by the most extraordinary means; but at their occurrence she would thrill for a moment as if in response to a sound of music. It was, for example, absurd that Mr. Moses Feldt, who was a Jew, should make her feel like that, but he did. And all the while that she was disagreeable to him, or mocking him behind his back, she was as uncomfortable and "horrid" as possible. While this fact, of course, only served to make her horrider still. At present she adopted the manner of a patience that nothing could quite exhaust; she was polite and formal, relentlessly correct in position. Mr. Moses Feldt, the cigar in his grasp, pressed a hand to the probable region of his heart. "You don't know how I think of you," he protested, tears in his eyes; "just the idea of you exposed to anything at all in hotels keeps me awake nights. Now it's a drunk, or a fresh feller on the elevator, or--" "It's nice of you," Linda said, "but you needn't worry. No one would dare to bother us. No one ever has." "You wouldn't know it if they did," he replied despondently, "at your age. And then your mother is so trustful and pleasant. Take those parties where she is so much--roof frolics and cocoanut groves and submarine caf s; they don't come to any good. Rowdy." Linda studied him coldly; if he criticized them further she would leave. He mopped a shining brow with a large colorful silk handkerchief. "It throws me into a sweat," he admitted. "Really, Mr. Feldt, you mustn't bother," she told him in one of her few impulses of friendliness. "You see, we are very experienced." He nodded without visible happiness at this truth. "I'm a jackass!" he cried. "Judith tells me that all the time. If you could only see my daughters," he continued with a new vigor; "such lovely girls as they are. One dark like you and the other fair as a daisy. Judith and Pansy. And my home that darling mama made before she died." The handkerchief was again in evidence. "Women and girls are funny. I can't get you there and not for nothing will Judith make a step. It may be pride but it seems to me such nonsense. I guess I'm old-fashioned and love's old-fashioned. Homes have gone out of style with the rest. It's all these restaurants and roofs now, yes, and studios. I tell the girls to stay away from them and from artists and so on. I don't encourage them at the apartment--a big lump of a feller with platinum bracelets on his wrists. What kind of a man would that be! I'd like to know who'd buy goods from him. "Sometimes, I'm sorry I got a lot of money, but it made mama happy. When she laid there at the last sick and couldn't live, I said, 'Oh, if you only won't leave me I'll give you gold to eat.'" He was so moved, his face so red, that Linda grew acutely embarrassed. People were looking at them. She rose stiffly but, in spite of her effort to escape him, he caught both her hands in his: "You say I'm an old idiot like Judith," he begged. This Linda declined to do. And, "Ask your mother if you won't come to dinner with the girls and me, cozy and at home--just once." "I'm afraid it will do no good," she admitted; "but I'll try." She realized that he was about to kiss her and moved quickly back. "I am almost afraid of you," he told her; "you're so distant and elegant. Judith and Pansy would get on with you first rate. I'll telephone tomorrow, in the afternoon. If the last flowers I sent you came I never heard of it." She thanked him appropriately for the roses and stood, erect and impersonal, as a man in the hotel livery helped him into a coat. Mr. Moses Feldt waved the still unlighted cigar at her and disappeared through the rotating door to the street. She gave a half-affected sigh of relief. Couldn't he see that her mother would never marry him. At the same time the strange thrill touched her; the sense of his absurdity vanished and she no longer remembered him perched like a painted rubber ball on the edge of the lounge. In the somber red plush and varnished wood of the reception-room of their suite he seemed again charming. Perhaps it was because he, too, adored her mother. That wasn't the reason. The familiar rare joy lingered. It seemed now as though she were to capture and understand it ... there was the vibration of music; and then, as always, she felt at once sad and brave. But, in spite of her old effort to the contrary, the feeling died away. Some day it would be clear to her; in the meanwhile Mr. Moses Feldt became once more only ridiculous. VIII In the morning she was dressed and had returned from breakfast before her mother stirred. The latter moved sharply, brought an arm up over her head, and swore. It was a long while before she got up or spoke again, and Linda never remembered her in a worse temper. When, finally, she came into the room where the breakfast-tray was laid, Linda was inexpressibly shocked--all that her mother had dreaded about her appearance had come disastrously true. Her face was hung with shadows like smudges of dirt and her eyes were netted with lines. Examining the dishes with distaste she told Linda that positively she could slap her for letting them bring up orange-juice. "How often must I explain to you that it freezes my fingers." Linda replied that she had repeated this in the breakfast-room and perhaps they had the wrong order. Neither her mother nor she said anything more until Mrs. Condon had finished her coffee and started a second cigarette. Then Linda related something of Mr. Moses Feldt's call on the evening before. "He cried right into his handkerchief," she said, "until I thought I should sink." Mrs. Condon eyed her daughter speculatively. "Now if you were only four years older," she declared, "it would be a good thing. He was simply born to be a husband." Horror filled Linda at the other's implication. "Yes," the elder insisted; "you couldn't do better; except, perhaps, for those girls of his. But then you'd have no trouble making them miserable. It's time to talk to you seriously about marriage." The smoke from the cigarette eddied in a gray veil across her unrefreshed face. "You're old for your age, Linda; your life has made you that; and, like I said last night, it is rather better than not. Well, for you marriage, and soon as possible, is the proper thing. Mind, I have never said a word against it; only what suits one doesn't suit another. Where it wouldn't be anything more than an old ladies' home to me you need it early and plenty. You are too intense. That doesn't go in the world. Men don't like it. They want their pleasure and comfort without strings tied to them; the intensity has to be theirs. "What you must get through your head is that love--whatever it is--and marriage are two different things, and if you are going to be successful they must be kept separate. You can't do anything with a man if you love him; but then you can't do anything with him if he doesn't love you. That's the whole thing in a breath. I am not crying down love, either; only I don't want you to think it is the bread and butter while it's nothing more than those little sweet cakes at Henri's. "Now any girl who marries a poor man or for love--they are the same thing--is a fool and deserves what she gets. No one thanks her for it, him least of all; because if she does love him it is only to make them miserable. She's always at him--where did he go and why did he stay so long, and no matter what he says she knows it's a lie. More times than not she's right, too. I can't tell you too often--men don't want to be loved, they like to be flattered and flattered and then flattered again. You'd never believe how childish they are. "Make them think they're it and don't give too much--that's the secret. Above all else don't be easy on them. Don't say 'all right, darling, next spring will do as well for a new suit.' Get it then and let him worry about paying for it, if worry he must. If they don't give it to you some one smarter will wear it. But I started to talk about getting married. "Choose a Moses Feldt, who will always be grateful to you, and keep him at it. They are so easy to land it's a kind of shame, too. Perhaps I am telling you this too soon, but I don't want any mistakes. Well, pick out your Moses--and mama will help you there--and suddenly, at the right time, show him that you can be affectionate; surprise him with it and you so staid and particular generally. Don't overdo it, promise more than you ever give-- "In the closet, dearie, just a little. That's a good girl. Mama's so dry." She rose, the silver cup of the flask in her hand, and moved inevitably to the mirror. "My hair's a sight," she remarked; "all strings. I believe I'll get a permanent wave. They say it lasts for six months or more, till the ends grow out. Makes a lot of it, too, and holds the front together. If you've ever had dye in your hair, I hear, it will break off like grass." Linda pondered over what she had been told of love and marriage; on the whole the exposition had been unsatisfactory. The latter she was able to grasp, but her mother had admitted an inability exactly to fix love. One fact, apparently, was clear--it was a nuisance and a hindrance to happiness, or rather to success. Love upset things. Still she had the strongest objection possible to living forever with a man like Mr. Moses Feldt. At once all that she had hoped for from life grew flat and uninteresting. She had no doubt of her mother's correctness and wisdom; the world was like that; she must make the best of it. There was some telephoning, inquiries, and she heard the elder make an appointment with a hair-dresser for three that afternoon. She wondered what it would be like to have your hair permanently waved and hoped that she would see it done. This, too, she realized, was a part of the necessity of always considering men--they liked your hair to be wavy. Hers was as straight and stupid as possible. She, in turn, examined herself in a mirror: the black bang fell exactly to her eyebrows, her face had no color other than the carnation of her lips and her deep blue eyes. She moved away and critically studied her figure; inches and inches too thin, she decided. Undoubtedly her mother was right, and she must marry at the first opportunity--if she could find a man, a rich man, who was willing. Her thoughts returned vaguely to the mystery, the nuisance, of love. Surely she had heard something before, immensely important, about it, and totally different from all her mother had said. Her mind was filled with the fantastic image of a forest, of dangers, and a fat china figure with curled plumes, a nodding head, that brushed her with fear and disgust. A shuddering panic took possession of her, flashes burned before her eyes, and she ran gasping to the perfumed soft reassurances of her mother. IX In a recurrence of her surprising concern of the day before Mrs. Condon declined to leave her dearest Linda alone; and, their arms caught together in a surging affection, they walked down Fifth Avenue toward the hairdresser's. There was a diffused gray sparkle of sunlight--it was early for the throngs--through which they passed rapidly to the accompaniment of a rapid eager chatter. Linda wore a deep smooth camel's hair cape, over which her intense black hair poured like ink, and her face was shaded by a dipping green velvet hat. Her mother, in one of the tightly cut suits she affected, had never been more like a perfect companion. They saw, in the window of a store for men, a set of violent purple wool underwear, and barely escaped hysterics at the thought of Mr. Moses Feldt in such a garb. They giggled idiotically at the spectacle of a countryman fearfully making the sharp descent from the top of a lurching omnibus. And then, when they had reached the place of Mrs. Condon's appointment, stopped at the show of elaborately waved hair on wax heads and chose which, probably, would resemble the elder and which, in a very short while now, Linda. There was an impressive interior, furnished in gray panels and silvery wood; and the young woman at the desk was more surprisingly waved than anything they had yet seen. M. Joseph would be ready almost immediately; and in the meanwhile Mrs. Condon could lay aside her things in preparation for the hair to be washed. She did this while Linda followed every movement with the deepest interest. At the back of the long room was a succession of small alcoves, each with an important-looking chair and mirror and shelves, a white basin, water-taps and rubber tubes. Settled, in comfort, Mrs. Condon's hair was spread out in a bright metal tray fastened to the back of the chair, and the attendant, a moist tired girl in a careless waist, sprayed the short thick gold-colored strands. "My," she observed, "what some wouldn't give for your shade! Never been touched, I can see, either. A lady comes in with real Titian, but yours is more select. It positively is Lillian Russell." While she talked her hands sped with incredible rapidity and skill. "The gentlemen don't notice it; of course not; oh, no! There was a girl here, a true blonde, but she didn't stay long--her own car, yes, indeed. Married her right out of the establishment. There wasn't any nonsense to her. "So this is your little girl! I'd never have believed it. Not that she hasn't a great deal of style, a great deal--almost, you might say, like an Egyptian. In the movies last night; her all over. It's a type that will need studying. Bertha Kalich. But for me--" Already, Linda saw, this part of the operation was done. The girl wheeled into position a case that had a fan and ring of blue flickering flames, and a cupped tube through which hot air was poured over her mother's head. M. Joseph strutted in, a small carefully dressed man with a diminutive pointed gray beard and formal curled mustache. He spoke with what Linda supposed was a French accent, and his manners, at least to them, were beautiful. But because the girl had not put out the blue flames quickly enough he turned to her with a voice of quivering rage. It was so unexpected, in the middle of his bowing and smooth assurances, that Linda was startled, and had to think about him all over. The result of this was a surprising dislike; she hated, even, to see him touch her mother, as he unnecessarily did in directing them into the enclosure for the permanent wave. The place itself filled her with the faint horror of instruments and the unknown. Above the chair where Mrs. Condon now sat there was a circle in the ceiling like the base of a chandelier and hanging down from it on twisted green wires were a great number of the strangest things imaginable: they were as thick as her wrist, but round, longer and hollow, white china inside and covered with brown wrapping. The wires of each, she discovered, led over a little wheel and down again to a swinging clock-like weight. In addition to this there were strange depressing handles on the wall by a dial with a jiggling needle and clearly marked numbers. The skill of the girl who had washed her mother's hair, however, was slight compared with M. Joseph's dexterity. The comb flashed in his white narrow hands; in no time at all every knot was urged out into a shining smoothness. "Just the front?" he inquired. Not waiting for Mrs. Condon's reply, he detached a strand from the mass over her brow, impaled it on a hairpin, while he picked up what might have been a thick steel knitting-needle with one end fastened in the middle of a silver quarter. The latter, it developed, had a hole in it, through which he drew the strand of hair, and then wrapped it with an angry tightness about the long projection. At this exact moment a new girl, but tired and moist, appeared, took a hank of white threads from a dressing-table, and tied that separate lock firmly. This, Linda counted, was repeated fifteen times; and when it was accomplished she was unable to repress a nervous laughter. Really, her mother looked too queer for words: the long rigid projections stood out all over her head like--like a huge pincushion; no, it was a porcupine. Mrs. Condon smiled in uncertain recognition of her daughter's mirth. Then Linda's attention followed M. Joseph to a table against a partition, where he secured a white cotton strip from a film of them soaking in a shallow tray, took up some white powder on the blade of a dessert knife and transferred it to the strip. This he wrapped and wrapped about the hair fastened on a spindle, tied it in turn, and dragged down one of the brown objects on wires, which, to Linda's great astonishment, fitted precisely over the cotton-bound hair. Again, fifteen times, M. Joseph did this, fastening each connection with the turn of a screw. When so much was accomplished her mother's hair, it seemed, had grown fast to the ceiling in a tangle of green ends. It was the most terrifying spectacle Linda had ever witnessed. Obscure thoughts of torture, of criminals executed by electricity, froze her in a set apprehension. The hair-dresser stepped over to the dials on the wall, and, with a sharp comprehensive glance at his apparatus, moved a handle as far as it would go. Nothing immediately happened, and Linda gave a relaxing sigh of relief. M. Joseph, however, became full of a painful attention. X He brought into view an unsuspected tube, with a cone of paper at its end, and bent over her mother, directing a stream of cold air against her head. "How do you feel?" he asked, with, Linda noticed, a startling loss of his first accent. Mrs. Condon so far felt well enough. Then, before Linda's startled gaze, every single one of the fifteen imprisoning tubes began to steam with an extraordinary vigor; not only did they steam, like teapots, but drops of water formed and slowly slid over her mother's face. If the process appeared weird at the beginning, now it was utterly fantastic. The little white vapor spurts played about Mrs. Condon's dripping countenance; they increased rather than diminished; actually it resembled a wrecked locomotive she had once seen. "How are you?" M. Joseph demanded nervously. "Is it hot anywhere?" With a sudden gesture she replied in a shaking voice, "Here." Instantly he was holding the paper cone with its cold air against her scalp, and the heat was subdued. He glanced nervously at his watch, and Mrs. Condon managed to ask, "How long?" "Twenty minutes." Dangerous as the whole proceeding seemed nothing really happened, and Linda's fears gradually faded into a mere curiosity and interest. A curtain hung across the door to the rest of the establishment, but it had been brushed partly aside; and she could see, in the compartment they had vacated, another man bending with waving irons over the liberated mass of a woman's hair. He was very much like M. Joseph, but he was younger and had only a dark scrap of mustache. As he caught up the hair with a quick double twist he leaned very close to the woman's face, whispering with an expression that never changed, an expression like that of the wax heads in the show-case. He bent so low that Linda was certain their cheeks had touched. She pondered at length over this, gazing now at the man beyond and now at M. Joseph flitting with the cold-air tube about her mother; wondering if, when she grew older, she would like a hair-dresser's cheek against hers. Linda decided not. The idea didn't shock her, the woman in the other space plainly liked it; still she decided she wouldn't. A different kind of man, she told herself, would be nicer. Her thoughts were interrupted by a sharp, unpleasant odor--the odor of scorched hair; and she was absolutely rigid with horror at an agonized cry from her mother. "It's burning me terribly," the latter cried. "Oh, I can't stand it. Stop! Stop!" M. Joseph, as white as plaster, rushed to the wall and reversed the handle, and Mrs. Condon started from the chair, her face now streaming with actual tears; but before she could escape the man threw himself on her shoulders. "You mustn't move," he whispered desperately, "you'll tear your hair out. I tell you no harm's been done. Everything is all right. Please, please don't cry like that. It will ruin my business. There are others in the establishment. Stop!" he shook her viciously. Linda had risen, terrorized; and Mrs. Condon, with waving plucking hands, was sobbing an appeal to be released. "My head, my head," she repeated. "I assure you"--the man motioned to a pallid girl to hold her in the chair. With a towel to protect his hand he undid a screw, lifted off the cap and untwisted the cotton from a bound lock of hair; releasing it, in turn, from the spindle it fell forward in a complete corkscrew over Mrs. Condon's face. "Do you see!" he demanded. "Perfect. I give you my word they'll all be like that. The cursed heat ran up on me," he added in a swift aside to his assistant. "Has Mrs. Bellows gone? Who's still in the place? Here, loose that binding ... thank God, that one is all right, too." Together they unfastened most of the connections, and a growing fringe of long remarkable curls marked Mrs. Condon's pain-drawn and dabbled face. Linda sobbed uncontrollably; but perhaps, after all, nothing frightful had happened. Her poor mother! Then fear again tightened about her heart at the perturbed expression that overtook the hair-dresser. He was trying in vain to remove one of the caps. She caught enigmatic words--"the borax, crystallized ... solid. It would take a plumber ... have to go." The connection was immovable. Even in her suffering Mrs. Condon implored M. Joseph to save her hair. Nothing, however, could be done; he admitted it with pale lips. The thing might be chiseled off; in the end he tried to force a release and the strand, with a renewal of Mrs. Condon's agony--now, in the interest of her appearance, heroically withstood--snapped short in the container. Rapidly recovering her vigor, she launched on a tirade against M. Joseph and his permanent waving establishment--Linda had never before heard her mother talk in such a loud brutal manner, nor use such heated unpleasant words, and the girl was flooded with a wretched shame. Still another lock, it was revealed, had been ruined, and crumbled to mere dust in its owner's fingers. "The law will provide for you," she promised. "Your hair was dyed," the proprietor returned vindictively. "The girl who washed it will testify. Every one is warned against the permanent if their hair has been colored. So it was at your own risk." "My head's never been touched with dye," Mrs. Condon shrilly answered. "You lying little ape. And well does that young woman know it. She complimented me herself on a true blonde." The girl had, too, right before Linda. "You ought to be thrashed out of the city." "Your money will be given back to you," M. Joseph told her. Outside they found a taxi, and sped back to their hotel. Above, Mrs. Condon removed her hat; and, before the uncompromising mirror, studied her wrecked hair--a frizzled vacancy was directly over her left brow--and haggard face. When she finally turned to Linda, her manner, her words, were solemn. "I'm middle-aged," she said. A dreary silence enveloped them sitting in the dark reception-room while Mrs. Condon restlessly shredded unlighted cigarettes on the floor. She had made no effort to repair the damages to her appearance, and when the telephone bell sharply sounded, she reached out in a slovenly negligence of manner. Linda could hear a blurred articulation and her mother answering listlessly. The latter at last said: "Very well, at seven then; you'll stop for us." She hung up the receiver, stared blankly at Linda, and then went off into a harsh mirth. "Oh, my God!" she cried; "the old ladies' home!" XI With her mother away on a wedding-trip with Mr. Moses Feldt, Linda was suddenly projected into the companionship of his two daughters. One, as he had said, was light, but a different fairness from Mrs. Condon's--richly thick, like honey; while Judith, the elder, who must have been twenty, was dark in skin, in everything but her eyes, which were a contrasting ashen-violet. She spoke at once of Linda's flawless whiteness: "A magnolia," she said, in a deliberate dark voice; "you are quite a gorgeous child. Do you mind my saying that your clothes are rather quaint? They aren't inevitable, and yours ought to be that." They were at lunch in the Feldt dining-room, an interior of heavy ornately carved black wood, panels of Chinese embroidery in imperial yellow, and a neutral mauve carpet. The effect, with glittering iridescent pyramids of glass, massive frosted repouss silver, burnished gold-plate and a wide table decoration of orchids and fern, was tropical and intense. It was evident to Linda that the Feldts were very rich indeed. The entire apartment resembled the dining-room, while the building itself filled a whole city block, with a garden and fountains like an elaborate public square. Linda, however, wasn't particularly impressed by such show; she saw that Judith and Pansy had expected that of her; but she was determined not to exhibit a surprise that would imply any changes in her mother's and her condition. In addition, Linda calmly took such surroundings for granted. Her primary conception of possible existence was elegance; its necessity had so entered into her being that it

cigar

How many times the word 'cigar' appears in the text?

you; and if the sword of an old soldier--it is all I have--can ever serve you in any way, it and its master's life are, and shall be, whilst life remains to him, yours. It grieves me to think that Janet cannot, through my act, be given that ease and tranquillity of spirit which come from competence. But, my dear Rupert, you will be of full age in seven years more. Then, if you are in the same mind--and I am sure you will not change--you, being your own master, can do freely as you will. In the meantime, to secure, so far as I can, my dear Janet against any malign stroke of fortune, I have given orders to my factor to remit semi-annually to Janet one full half of such income as may be derived in any form from my estate of Croom. It is, I am sorry to say, heavily mortgaged; but of such as is--or may be, free from such charge as the mortgage entails--something at least will, I trust, remain to her. And, my dear boy, I can frankly say that it is to me a real pleasure that you and I can be linked in one more bond in this association of purpose. I have always held you in my heart as though you were my own son. Let me tell you now that you have acted as I should have liked a son of my own, had I been blessed with one, to have acted. God bless you, my dear. Yours ever, COLIN ALEX. MACKELPIE. _Letter from Roger Melton_, _of Openshaw Grange_, _to Rupert Sent Leger_, _Esq._, 14, _Newland Park_, _Dulwich_, _London_, _S.E._ _July_ 1, 1892. MY DEAR NEPHEW, Your letter of the 30th ult. received. Have carefully considered matter stated, and have come to the conclusion that my duty as a trustee would not allow me to give full consent, as you wish. Let me explain. The testator, in making her will, intended that such fortune as she had at disposal should be used to supply to you her son such benefits as its annual product should procure. To this end, and to provide against wastefulness or foolishness on your part, or, indeed, against any generosity, howsoever worthy, which might impoverish you and so defeat her benevolent intentions regarding your education, comfort, and future good, she did not place the estate directly in your hands, leaving you to do as you might feel inclined about it. But, on the contrary, she entrusted the corpus of it in the hands of men whom she believed should be resolute enough and strong enough to carry out her intent, even against any cajolements or pressure which might be employed to the contrary. It being her intention, then, that such trustees as she appointed would use for your benefit the interest accruing annually from the capital at command, _and that only_ (as specifically directed in the will), so that on your arriving at full age the capital entrusted to us should be handed over to you intact, I find a hard-and-fast duty in the matter of adhering exactly to the directions given. I have no doubt that my co-trustees regard the matter in exactly the same light. Under the circumstances, therefore, we, the trustees, have not only a single and united duty towards you as the object of the testator's wishes, but towards each other as regards the manner of the carrying out of that duty. I take it, therefore, that it would not be consonant with the spirit of the trust or of our own ideas in accepting it that any of us should take a course pleasant to himself which would or might involve a stern opposition on the part of other of the co-trustees. We have each of us to do the unpleasant part of this duty without fear or favour. You understand, of course, that the time which must elapse before you come into absolute possession of your estate is a limited one. As by the terms of the will we are to hand over our trust when you have reached the age of twenty-one, there are only seven years to expire. But till then, though I should gladly meet your wishes if I could, I must adhere to the duty which I have undertaken. At the expiration of that period you will be quite free to divest yourself of your estate without protest or comment of any man. Having now expressed as clearly as I can the limitations by which I am bound with regard to the corpus of your estate, let me say that in any other way which is in my power or discretion I shall be most happy to see your wishes carried out so far as rests with me. Indeed, I shall undertake to use what influence I may possess with my co-trustees to induce them to take a similar view of your wishes. In my own thinking you are quite free to use your own property in your own way. But as, until you shall have attained your majority, you have only life-user in your mother's bequest, you are only at liberty to deal with the annual increment. On our part as trustees we have a first charge on that increment to be used for purposes of your maintenance, clothes, and education. As to what may remain over each half-year, you will be free to deal with it as you choose. On receiving from you a written authorization to your trustees, if you desire the whole sum or any part of it to be paid over to Miss Janet MacKelpie, I shall see that it is effected. Believe me, that our duty is to protect the corpus of the estate, and to this end we may not act on any instruction to imperil it. But there our warranty stops. We can deal during our trusteeship with the corpus only. Further, lest there should arise any error on your part, we can deal with any general instruction for only so long as it may remain unrevoked. You are, and must be, free to alter your instructions or authorizations at any time. Thus your latest document must be used for our guidance. As to the general principle involved in your wish I make no comment. You are at liberty to deal with your own how you will. I quite understand that your impulse is a generous one, and I fully believe that it is in consonance with what had always been the wishes of my sister. Had she been happily alive and had to give judgment of your intent, I am convinced that she would have approved. Therefore, my dear nephew, should you so wish, I shall be happy for her sake as well as your own to pay over on your account (as a confidential matter between you and me), but from my own pocket, a sum equal to that which you wish transferred to Miss Janet MacKelpie. On hearing from you I shall know how to act in the matter. With all good wishes, Believe me to be, Your affectionate uncle, ROGER MELTON. TO RUPERT SENT LEGER, ESQ. _Letter from Rupert Sent Leger to Roger Melton_, _July_ 5, 1892. MY DEAR UNCLE, Thank you heartily for your kind letter. I quite understand, and now see that I should not have asked you as a trustee, such a thing. I see your duty clearly, and agree with your view of it. I enclose a letter directed to my trustees, asking them to pay over annually till further direction to Miss Janet MacKelpie at this address whatever sum may remain over from the interest of my mother's bequest after deduction of such expenses as you may deem fit for my maintenance, clothing, and education, together with a sum of one pound sterling per month, which was the amount my dear mother always gave me for my personal use--"pocket-money," she called it. With regard to your most kind and generous offer to give to my dear Aunt Janet the sum which I would have given myself, had such been in my power, I thank you most truly and sincerely, both for my dear aunt (to whom, of course, I shall not mention the matter unless you specially authorize me) and myself. But, indeed, I think it will be better not to offer it. Aunt Janet is very proud, and would not accept any benefit. With me, of course, it is different, for since I was a wee child she has been like another mother to me, and I love her very much. Since my mother died--and she, of course, was all-in-all to me--there has been no other. And in such a love as ours pride has no place. Thank you again, dear uncle, and God bless you. Your loving nephew, RUPERT SENT LEGER. ERNEST ROGER HALBARD MELTON'S RECORD--_Continued_. And now _re_ the remaining one of Sir Geoffrey's children, Roger. He was the third child and third son, the only daughter, Patience, having been born twenty years after the last of the four sons. Concerning Roger, I shall put down all I have heard of him from my father and grandfather. From my grand-aunt I heard nothing, I was a very small kid when she died; but I remember seeing her, but only once. A very tall, handsome woman of a little over thirty, with very dark hair and light-coloured eyes. I think they were either grey or blue, but I can't remember which. She looked very proud and haughty, but I am bound to say that she was very nice to me. I remember feeling very jealous of Rupert because his mother looked so distinguished. Rupert was eight years older than me, and I was afraid he would beat me if I said anything he did not like. So I was silent except when I forgot to be, and Rupert said very unkindly, and I think very unfairly, that I was "A sulky little beast." I haven't forgot that, and I don't mean to. However, it doesn't matter much what he said or thought. There he is--if he is at all--where no one can find him, with no money or nothing, for what little he had he settled when he came of age, on the MacSkelpie. He wanted to give it to her when his mother died, but father, who was a trustee, refused; and Uncle Roger, as I call him, who is another, thought the trustees had no power to allow Rupert to throw away his matrimony, as I called it, making a joke to father when he called it patrimony. Old Sir Colin MacSkelpie, who is the third, said he couldn't take any part in such a permission, as the MacSkelpie was his niece. He is a rude old man, that. I remember when, not remembering his relationship, I spoke of the MacSkelpie, he caught me a clip on the ear that sent me across the room. His Scotch is very broad. I can hear him say, "Hae some attempt at even Soothern manners, and dinna misca' yer betters, ye young puddock, or I'll wring yer snoot!" Father was, I could see, very much offended, but he didn't say anything. He remembered, I think, that the General is a V.C. man, and was fond of fighting duels. But to show that the fault was not his, _he_ wrung _my_ ear--and the same ear too! I suppose he thought that was justice! But it's only right to say that he made up for it afterwards. When the General had gone he gave me a five-pound note. I don't think Uncle Roger was very pleased with the way Rupert behaved about the legacy, for I don't think he ever saw him from that day to this. Perhaps, of course, it was because Rupert ran away shortly afterwards; but I shall tell about that when I come to him. After all, why should my uncle bother about him? He is not a Melton at all, and I am to be Head of the House--of course, when the Lord thinks right to take father to Himself! Uncle Roger has tons of money, and he never married, so if he wants to leave it in the right direction he needn't have any trouble. He made his money in what he calls "the Eastern Trade." This, so far as I can gather, takes in the Levant and all east of it. I know he has what they call in trade "houses" in all sorts of places--Turkey, and Greece, and all round them, Morocco, Egypt, and Southern Russia, and the Holy Land; then on to Persia, India, and all round it; the Chersonese, China, Japan, and the Pacific Islands. It is not to be expected that we landowners can know much about trade, but my uncle covers--or alas! I must say "covered"--a lot of ground, I can tell you. Uncle Roger was a very grim sort of man, and only that I was brought up to try and be kind to him I shouldn't ever have dared to speak to him. But when was a child father and mother--especially mother--forced me to go and see him and be affectionate to him. He wasn't ever even civil to me, that I can remember--grumpy old bear! But, then, he never saw Rupert at all, so that I take it Master R--- is out of the running altogether for testamentary honours. The last time I saw him myself he was distinctly rude. He treated me as a boy, though I was getting on for eighteen years of age. I came into his office without knocking; and without looking up from his desk, where he was writing, he said: "Get out! Why do you venture to disturb me when I'm busy? Get out, and be damned to you!" I waited where I was, ready to transfix him with my eye when he should look up, for I cannot forget that when my father dies I shall be Head of my House. But when he did there was no transfixing possible. He said quite coolly: "Oh, it's you, is it? I thought it was one of my office boys. Sit down, if you want to see me, and wait till I am ready." So I sat down and waited. Father always said that I should try to conciliate and please my uncle. Father is a very shrewd man, and Uncle Roger is a very rich one. But I don't think Uncle R--- is as shrewd as he thinks he is. He sometimes makes awful mistakes in business. For instance, some years ago he bought an enormous estate on the Adriatic, in the country they call the "Land of Blue Mountains." At least, he says he bought it. He told father so in confidence. But he didn't show any title-deeds, and I'm greatly afraid he was "had." A bad job for me that he was, for father believes he paid an enormous sum for it, and as I am his natural heir, it reduces his available estate to so much less. And now about Rupert. As I have said, he ran away when he was about fourteen, and we did not hear about him for years. When we--or, rather, my father--did hear of him, it was no good that he heard. He had gone as a cabin-boy on a sailing ship round the Horn. Then he joined an exploring party through the centre of Patagonia, and then another up in Alaska, and a third to the Aleutian Islands. After that he went through Central America, and then to Western Africa, the Pacific Islands, India, and a lot of places. We all know the wisdom of the adage that "A rolling stone gathers no moss"; and certainly, if there be any value in moss, Cousin Rupert will die a poor man. Indeed, nothing will stand his idiotic, boastful wastefulness. Look at the way in which, when he came of age, he made over all his mother's little fortune to the MacSkelpie! I am sure that, though Uncle Roger made no comment to my father, who, as Head of our House, should, of course, have been informed, he was not pleased. My mother, who has a good fortune in her own right, and has had the sense to keep it in her own control--as I am to inherit it, and it is not in the entail, I am therefore quite impartial--I can approve of her spirited conduct in the matter. We never did think much of Rupert, anyhow; but now, since he is in the way to be a pauper, and therefore a dangerous nuisance, we look on him as quite an outsider. We know what he really is. For my own part, I loathe and despise him. Just now we are irritated with him, for we are all kept on tenterhooks regarding my dear Uncle Roger's Will. For Mr. Trent, the attorney who regulated my dear uncle's affairs and has possession of the Will, says it is necessary to know where every possible beneficiary is to be found before making the Will public, so we all have to wait. It is especially hard on me, who am the natural heir. It is very thoughtless indeed of Rupert to keep away like that. I wrote to old MacSkelpie about it, but he didn't seem to understand or to be at all anxious--he is not the heir! He said that probably Rupert Sent Leger--he, too, keeps to the old spelling--did not know of his uncle's death, or he would have taken steps to relieve our anxiety. Our anxiety, forsooth! We are not anxious; we only wish to _know_. And if we--and especially me--who have all the annoyance of thinking of the detestable and unfair death-duties, are anxious, we should be so. Well, anyhow, he'll get a properly bitter disappointment and set down when he does turn up and discovers that he is a pauper without hope! * * * * * To-day we (father and I) had letters from Mr. Trent, telling us that the whereabouts of "Mr. Rupert Sent Leger" had been discovered, and that a letter disclosing the fact of poor Uncle Roger's death had been sent to him. He was at Titicaca when last heard of. So goodness only knows when he may get the letter, which "asks him to come home at once, but only gives to him such information about the Will as has already been given to every member of the testator's family." And that is nil. I dare say we shall be kept waiting for months before we get hold of the estate which is ours. It is too bad! _Letter from Edward Bingham Trent to Ernest Roger Halbard Melton_. 176, LINCOLN'S INN FIELDS, _December_ 28, 1906. DEAR SIR, I am glad to be able to inform you that I have just heard by letter from Mr. Rupert St. Leger that he intended leaving Rio de Janeiro by the S.S. _Amazon_, of the Royal Mail Company, on December 15. He further stated that he would cable just before leaving Rio de Janeiro, to say on what day the ship was expected to arrive in London. As all the others possibly interested in the Will of the late Roger Melton, and whose names are given to me in his instructions regarding the reading of the Will, have been advised, and have expressed their intention of being present at that event on being apprised of the time and place, I now beg to inform you that by cable message received the date scheduled for arrival at the Port of London was January 1 prox. I therefore beg to notify you, subject to postponement due to the non-arrival of the _Amazon_, the reading of the Will of the late Roger Melton, Esq., will take place in my office on Thursday, January 3 prox., at eleven o'clock a.m. I have the honour to be, sir, Yours faithfully, EDWARD BINGHAM TRENT. TO ERNEST ROGER HALBARD MELTON, ESQ., HUMCROFT, SALOP. Cable: _Rupert Sent Leger to Edward Bingham Trent_. _Amazon_ arrives London January 1. SENT LEGER. _Telegram_ (_per Lloyd's_): _Rupert Sent Leger to Edward Bingham Trent_. THE LIZARD, _December_ 31. _Amazon_ arrives London to-morrow morning. All well.--LEGER. _Telegram_: _Edward Bingham Trent to Ernest Roger Halbard Mellon_. Rupert Sent Leger arrived. Reading Will takes place as arranged.--TRENT. ERNEST ROGER HALBARD MELTON'S RECORD. _January_ 4, 1907. The reading of Uncle Roger's Will is over. Father got a duplicate of Mr. Trent's letter to me, and of the cable and two telegrams pasted into this Record. We both waited patiently till the third--that is, we did not say anything. The only impatient member of our family was my mother. She _did_ say things, and if old Trent had been here his ears would have been red. She said what ridiculous nonsense it was delaying the reading of the Will, and keeping the Heir waiting for the arrival of an obscure person who wasn't even a member of the family, inasmuch as he didn't bear the name. I don't think it's quite respectful to one who is some day to be Head of the House! I thought father was weakening in his patience when he said: "True, my dear--true!" and got up and left the room. Some time afterwards when I passed the library I heard him walking up and down. Father and I went up to town on the afternoon of Wednesday, January 2. We stayed, of course, at Claridge's, where we always stay when we go to town. Mother wanted to come, too, but father thought it better not. She would not agree to stay at home till we both promised to send her separate telegrams after the reading. At five minutes to eleven we entered Mr. Trent's office. Father would not go a moment earlier, as he said it was bad form to seem eager at any time, but most of all at the reading of a will. It was a rotten grind, for we had to be walking all over the neighbourhood for half an hour before it was time, not to be too early. When we went into the room we found there General Sir Colin MacKelpie and a big man, very bronzed, whom I took to be Rupert St. Leger--not a very creditable connection to look at, I thought! He and old MacKelpie took care to be in time! Rather low, I thought it. Mr. St. Leger was reading a letter. He had evidently come in but lately, for though he seemed to be eager about it, he was only at the first page, and I could see that there were many sheets. He did not look up when we came in, or till he had finished the letter; and you may be sure that neither I nor my father (who, as Head of the House, should have had more respect from him) took the trouble to go to him. After all, he is a pauper and a wastrel, and he has not the honour of bearing our Name. The General, however, came forward and greeted us both cordially. He evidently had forgotten--or pretended to have--the discourteous way he once treated me, for he spoke to me quite in a friendly way--I thought more warmly than he did to father. I was pleased to be spoken to so nicely, for, after all, whatever his manners may be, he is a distinguished man--has won the V.C. and a Baronetcy. He got the latter not long ago, after the Frontier War in India. I was not, however, led away into cordiality myself. I had not forgotten his rudeness, and I thought that he might be sucking up to me. I knew that when I had my dear Uncle Roger's many millions I should be a rather important person; and, of course, he knew it too. So I got even with him for his former impudence. When he held out his hand I put one finger in it, and said, "How do?" He got very red and turned away. Father and he had ended by glaring at each other, so neither of us was sorry to be done with him. All the time Mr. St. Leger did not seem to see or hear anything, but went on reading his letter. I thought the old MacSkelpie was going to bring him into the matter between us, for as he turned away I heard him say something under his breath. It sounded like "Help!" but Mr. S--- did not hear. He certainly no notice of it. As the MacS--- and Mr. S--- sat quite silent, neither looking at us, and as father was sitting on the other side of the room with his chin in his hand, and as I wanted to show that I was indifferent to the two S's, I took out this notebook, and went on with the Record, bringing it up to this moment. THE RECORD--_Continued_. When I had finished writing I looked over at Rupert. When he saw us, he jumped up and went over to father and shook his hand quite warmly. Father took him very coolly. Rupert, however, did not seem to see it, but came towards me heartily. I happened to be doing something else at the moment, and at first I did not see his hand; but just as I was looking at it the clock struck eleven. Whilst it was striking Mr. Trent came into the room. Close behind him came his clerk, carrying a locked tin box. There were two other men also. He bowed to us all in turn, beginning with me. I was standing opposite the door; the others were scattered about. Father sat still, but Sir Colin and Mr. St. Leger rose. Mr. Trent not did shake hands with any of us--not even me. Nothing but his respectful bow. That is the etiquette for an attorney, I understand, on such formal occasions. He sat down at the end of the big table in the centre of the room, and asked us to sit round. Father, of course, as Head of the Family, took the seat at his right hand. Sir Colin and St. Leger went to the other side, the former taking the seat next to the attorney. The General knows, of course, that a Baronet takes precedence at a ceremony. I may be a Baronet some day myself, and have to know these things. The clerk took the key which his master handed to him, opened the tin box, and took from it a bundle of papers tied with red tape. This he placed before the attorney, and put the empty box behind him on the floor. Then he and the other man sat at the far end of the table; the latter took out a big notebook and several pencils, and put them before him. He was evidently a shorthand-writer. Mr. Trent removed the tape from the bundle of papers, which he placed a little distance in front of him. He took a sealed envelope from the top, broke the seal, opened the envelope, and from it took a parchment, in the folds of which were some sealed envelopes, which he laid in a heap in front of the other paper. Then he unfolded the parchment, and laid it before him with the outside page up. He fixed his glasses, and said: "Gentlemen, the sealed envelope which you have seen me open is endorsed 'My Last Will and Testament--ROGER MELTON, _June_, 1906.' This document"--holding it up--"is as follows: "'I Roger Melton of Openshaw Grange in the County of Dorset; of number one hundred and twenty-three Berkeley Square London; and of the Castle of Vissarion in the Land of the Blue Mountains, being of sound mind do make this my Last Will and Testament on this day Monday the eleventh day of the month of June in the year of Our Lord one thousand nine hundred and six at the office of my old friend and Attorney Edward Bingham Trent in number one hundred and seventy-six Lincoln's Inn Fields London hereby revoking all other wills that I may have formerly made and giving this as my sole and last Will making dispositions of my property as follows: "'1. To my kinsman and nephew Ernest Halbard Melton Esquire, justice of the Peace, Humcroft the County of Salop, for his sole use and benefit the sum of twenty thousand pounds sterling free of all Duties Taxes and charges whatever to be paid out of my Five per centum Bonds of the City of Montreal, Canada. "'2. To my respected friend and colleague as co-trustee to the Will of my late sister Patience late widow of the late Captain Rupert Sent Leger who predeceased her, Major-General Sir Colin Alexander MacKelpie, Baronet, holder of the Victoria Cross, Knight Commander of the Order of the Bath, of Croom in the county of Ross Scotland a sum of Twenty thousand pounds sterling free of all Taxes and charges whatsoever; to be paid out of my Five per centum Bonds of the City of Toronto, Canada. "'3. To Miss Janet MacKelpie presently residing at Croom in the County of Ross Scotland the sum of Twenty thousand pounds sterling free of all Duties Taxes and Charges whatsoever, to be paid out of my Five per centum Bonds of the London County Council. "'4. To the various persons charities and Trustees named in the schedule attached to this Will and marked A. the various sums mentioned therein, all free of Duties and Taxes and charges whatsoever.'" Here Mr. Trent read out the list here following, and announced for our immediate understanding of the situation the total amount as two hundred and fifty thousand pounds. Many of the beneficiaries were old friends, comrades, dependents, and servants, some of them being left

income

How many times the word 'income' appears in the text?

you; and if the sword of an old soldier--it is all I have--can ever serve you in any way, it and its master's life are, and shall be, whilst life remains to him, yours. It grieves me to think that Janet cannot, through my act, be given that ease and tranquillity of spirit which come from competence. But, my dear Rupert, you will be of full age in seven years more. Then, if you are in the same mind--and I am sure you will not change--you, being your own master, can do freely as you will. In the meantime, to secure, so far as I can, my dear Janet against any malign stroke of fortune, I have given orders to my factor to remit semi-annually to Janet one full half of such income as may be derived in any form from my estate of Croom. It is, I am sorry to say, heavily mortgaged; but of such as is--or may be, free from such charge as the mortgage entails--something at least will, I trust, remain to her. And, my dear boy, I can frankly say that it is to me a real pleasure that you and I can be linked in one more bond in this association of purpose. I have always held you in my heart as though you were my own son. Let me tell you now that you have acted as I should have liked a son of my own, had I been blessed with one, to have acted. God bless you, my dear. Yours ever, COLIN ALEX. MACKELPIE. _Letter from Roger Melton_, _of Openshaw Grange_, _to Rupert Sent Leger_, _Esq._, 14, _Newland Park_, _Dulwich_, _London_, _S.E._ _July_ 1, 1892. MY DEAR NEPHEW, Your letter of the 30th ult. received. Have carefully considered matter stated, and have come to the conclusion that my duty as a trustee would not allow me to give full consent, as you wish. Let me explain. The testator, in making her will, intended that such fortune as she had at disposal should be used to supply to you her son such benefits as its annual product should procure. To this end, and to provide against wastefulness or foolishness on your part, or, indeed, against any generosity, howsoever worthy, which might impoverish you and so defeat her benevolent intentions regarding your education, comfort, and future good, she did not place the estate directly in your hands, leaving you to do as you might feel inclined about it. But, on the contrary, she entrusted the corpus of it in the hands of men whom she believed should be resolute enough and strong enough to carry out her intent, even against any cajolements or pressure which might be employed to the contrary. It being her intention, then, that such trustees as she appointed would use for your benefit the interest accruing annually from the capital at command, _and that only_ (as specifically directed in the will), so that on your arriving at full age the capital entrusted to us should be handed over to you intact, I find a hard-and-fast duty in the matter of adhering exactly to the directions given. I have no doubt that my co-trustees regard the matter in exactly the same light. Under the circumstances, therefore, we, the trustees, have not only a single and united duty towards you as the object of the testator's wishes, but towards each other as regards the manner of the carrying out of that duty. I take it, therefore, that it would not be consonant with the spirit of the trust or of our own ideas in accepting it that any of us should take a course pleasant to himself which would or might involve a stern opposition on the part of other of the co-trustees. We have each of us to do the unpleasant part of this duty without fear or favour. You understand, of course, that the time which must elapse before you come into absolute possession of your estate is a limited one. As by the terms of the will we are to hand over our trust when you have reached the age of twenty-one, there are only seven years to expire. But till then, though I should gladly meet your wishes if I could, I must adhere to the duty which I have undertaken. At the expiration of that period you will be quite free to divest yourself of your estate without protest or comment of any man. Having now expressed as clearly as I can the limitations by which I am bound with regard to the corpus of your estate, let me say that in any other way which is in my power or discretion I shall be most happy to see your wishes carried out so far as rests with me. Indeed, I shall undertake to use what influence I may possess with my co-trustees to induce them to take a similar view of your wishes. In my own thinking you are quite free to use your own property in your own way. But as, until you shall have attained your majority, you have only life-user in your mother's bequest, you are only at liberty to deal with the annual increment. On our part as trustees we have a first charge on that increment to be used for purposes of your maintenance, clothes, and education. As to what may remain over each half-year, you will be free to deal with it as you choose. On receiving from you a written authorization to your trustees, if you desire the whole sum or any part of it to be paid over to Miss Janet MacKelpie, I shall see that it is effected. Believe me, that our duty is to protect the corpus of the estate, and to this end we may not act on any instruction to imperil it. But there our warranty stops. We can deal during our trusteeship with the corpus only. Further, lest there should arise any error on your part, we can deal with any general instruction for only so long as it may remain unrevoked. You are, and must be, free to alter your instructions or authorizations at any time. Thus your latest document must be used for our guidance. As to the general principle involved in your wish I make no comment. You are at liberty to deal with your own how you will. I quite understand that your impulse is a generous one, and I fully believe that it is in consonance with what had always been the wishes of my sister. Had she been happily alive and had to give judgment of your intent, I am convinced that she would have approved. Therefore, my dear nephew, should you so wish, I shall be happy for her sake as well as your own to pay over on your account (as a confidential matter between you and me), but from my own pocket, a sum equal to that which you wish transferred to Miss Janet MacKelpie. On hearing from you I shall know how to act in the matter. With all good wishes, Believe me to be, Your affectionate uncle, ROGER MELTON. TO RUPERT SENT LEGER, ESQ. _Letter from Rupert Sent Leger to Roger Melton_, _July_ 5, 1892. MY DEAR UNCLE, Thank you heartily for your kind letter. I quite understand, and now see that I should not have asked you as a trustee, such a thing. I see your duty clearly, and agree with your view of it. I enclose a letter directed to my trustees, asking them to pay over annually till further direction to Miss Janet MacKelpie at this address whatever sum may remain over from the interest of my mother's bequest after deduction of such expenses as you may deem fit for my maintenance, clothing, and education, together with a sum of one pound sterling per month, which was the amount my dear mother always gave me for my personal use--"pocket-money," she called it. With regard to your most kind and generous offer to give to my dear Aunt Janet the sum which I would have given myself, had such been in my power, I thank you most truly and sincerely, both for my dear aunt (to whom, of course, I shall not mention the matter unless you specially authorize me) and myself. But, indeed, I think it will be better not to offer it. Aunt Janet is very proud, and would not accept any benefit. With me, of course, it is different, for since I was a wee child she has been like another mother to me, and I love her very much. Since my mother died--and she, of course, was all-in-all to me--there has been no other. And in such a love as ours pride has no place. Thank you again, dear uncle, and God bless you. Your loving nephew, RUPERT SENT LEGER. ERNEST ROGER HALBARD MELTON'S RECORD--_Continued_. And now _re_ the remaining one of Sir Geoffrey's children, Roger. He was the third child and third son, the only daughter, Patience, having been born twenty years after the last of the four sons. Concerning Roger, I shall put down all I have heard of him from my father and grandfather. From my grand-aunt I heard nothing, I was a very small kid when she died; but I remember seeing her, but only once. A very tall, handsome woman of a little over thirty, with very dark hair and light-coloured eyes. I think they were either grey or blue, but I can't remember which. She looked very proud and haughty, but I am bound to say that she was very nice to me. I remember feeling very jealous of Rupert because his mother looked so distinguished. Rupert was eight years older than me, and I was afraid he would beat me if I said anything he did not like. So I was silent except when I forgot to be, and Rupert said very unkindly, and I think very unfairly, that I was "A sulky little beast." I haven't forgot that, and I don't mean to. However, it doesn't matter much what he said or thought. There he is--if he is at all--where no one can find him, with no money or nothing, for what little he had he settled when he came of age, on the MacSkelpie. He wanted to give it to her when his mother died, but father, who was a trustee, refused; and Uncle Roger, as I call him, who is another, thought the trustees had no power to allow Rupert to throw away his matrimony, as I called it, making a joke to father when he called it patrimony. Old Sir Colin MacSkelpie, who is the third, said he couldn't take any part in such a permission, as the MacSkelpie was his niece. He is a rude old man, that. I remember when, not remembering his relationship, I spoke of the MacSkelpie, he caught me a clip on the ear that sent me across the room. His Scotch is very broad. I can hear him say, "Hae some attempt at even Soothern manners, and dinna misca' yer betters, ye young puddock, or I'll wring yer snoot!" Father was, I could see, very much offended, but he didn't say anything. He remembered, I think, that the General is a V.C. man, and was fond of fighting duels. But to show that the fault was not his, _he_ wrung _my_ ear--and the same ear too! I suppose he thought that was justice! But it's only right to say that he made up for it afterwards. When the General had gone he gave me a five-pound note. I don't think Uncle Roger was very pleased with the way Rupert behaved about the legacy, for I don't think he ever saw him from that day to this. Perhaps, of course, it was because Rupert ran away shortly afterwards; but I shall tell about that when I come to him. After all, why should my uncle bother about him? He is not a Melton at all, and I am to be Head of the House--of course, when the Lord thinks right to take father to Himself! Uncle Roger has tons of money, and he never married, so if he wants to leave it in the right direction he needn't have any trouble. He made his money in what he calls "the Eastern Trade." This, so far as I can gather, takes in the Levant and all east of it. I know he has what they call in trade "houses" in all sorts of places--Turkey, and Greece, and all round them, Morocco, Egypt, and Southern Russia, and the Holy Land; then on to Persia, India, and all round it; the Chersonese, China, Japan, and the Pacific Islands. It is not to be expected that we landowners can know much about trade, but my uncle covers--or alas! I must say "covered"--a lot of ground, I can tell you. Uncle Roger was a very grim sort of man, and only that I was brought up to try and be kind to him I shouldn't ever have dared to speak to him. But when was a child father and mother--especially mother--forced me to go and see him and be affectionate to him. He wasn't ever even civil to me, that I can remember--grumpy old bear! But, then, he never saw Rupert at all, so that I take it Master R--- is out of the running altogether for testamentary honours. The last time I saw him myself he was distinctly rude. He treated me as a boy, though I was getting on for eighteen years of age. I came into his office without knocking; and without looking up from his desk, where he was writing, he said: "Get out! Why do you venture to disturb me when I'm busy? Get out, and be damned to you!" I waited where I was, ready to transfix him with my eye when he should look up, for I cannot forget that when my father dies I shall be Head of my House. But when he did there was no transfixing possible. He said quite coolly: "Oh, it's you, is it? I thought it was one of my office boys. Sit down, if you want to see me, and wait till I am ready." So I sat down and waited. Father always said that I should try to conciliate and please my uncle. Father is a very shrewd man, and Uncle Roger is a very rich one. But I don't think Uncle R--- is as shrewd as he thinks he is. He sometimes makes awful mistakes in business. For instance, some years ago he bought an enormous estate on the Adriatic, in the country they call the "Land of Blue Mountains." At least, he says he bought it. He told father so in confidence. But he didn't show any title-deeds, and I'm greatly afraid he was "had." A bad job for me that he was, for father believes he paid an enormous sum for it, and as I am his natural heir, it reduces his available estate to so much less. And now about Rupert. As I have said, he ran away when he was about fourteen, and we did not hear about him for years. When we--or, rather, my father--did hear of him, it was no good that he heard. He had gone as a cabin-boy on a sailing ship round the Horn. Then he joined an exploring party through the centre of Patagonia, and then another up in Alaska, and a third to the Aleutian Islands. After that he went through Central America, and then to Western Africa, the Pacific Islands, India, and a lot of places. We all know the wisdom of the adage that "A rolling stone gathers no moss"; and certainly, if there be any value in moss, Cousin Rupert will die a poor man. Indeed, nothing will stand his idiotic, boastful wastefulness. Look at the way in which, when he came of age, he made over all his mother's little fortune to the MacSkelpie! I am sure that, though Uncle Roger made no comment to my father, who, as Head of our House, should, of course, have been informed, he was not pleased. My mother, who has a good fortune in her own right, and has had the sense to keep it in her own control--as I am to inherit it, and it is not in the entail, I am therefore quite impartial--I can approve of her spirited conduct in the matter. We never did think much of Rupert, anyhow; but now, since he is in the way to be a pauper, and therefore a dangerous nuisance, we look on him as quite an outsider. We know what he really is. For my own part, I loathe and despise him. Just now we are irritated with him, for we are all kept on tenterhooks regarding my dear Uncle Roger's Will. For Mr. Trent, the attorney who regulated my dear uncle's affairs and has possession of the Will, says it is necessary to know where every possible beneficiary is to be found before making the Will public, so we all have to wait. It is especially hard on me, who am the natural heir. It is very thoughtless indeed of Rupert to keep away like that. I wrote to old MacSkelpie about it, but he didn't seem to understand or to be at all anxious--he is not the heir! He said that probably Rupert Sent Leger--he, too, keeps to the old spelling--did not know of his uncle's death, or he would have taken steps to relieve our anxiety. Our anxiety, forsooth! We are not anxious; we only wish to _know_. And if we--and especially me--who have all the annoyance of thinking of the detestable and unfair death-duties, are anxious, we should be so. Well, anyhow, he'll get a properly bitter disappointment and set down when he does turn up and discovers that he is a pauper without hope! * * * * * To-day we (father and I) had letters from Mr. Trent, telling us that the whereabouts of "Mr. Rupert Sent Leger" had been discovered, and that a letter disclosing the fact of poor Uncle Roger's death had been sent to him. He was at Titicaca when last heard of. So goodness only knows when he may get the letter, which "asks him to come home at once, but only gives to him such information about the Will as has already been given to every member of the testator's family." And that is nil. I dare say we shall be kept waiting for months before we get hold of the estate which is ours. It is too bad! _Letter from Edward Bingham Trent to Ernest Roger Halbard Melton_. 176, LINCOLN'S INN FIELDS, _December_ 28, 1906. DEAR SIR, I am glad to be able to inform you that I have just heard by letter from Mr. Rupert St. Leger that he intended leaving Rio de Janeiro by the S.S. _Amazon_, of the Royal Mail Company, on December 15. He further stated that he would cable just before leaving Rio de Janeiro, to say on what day the ship was expected to arrive in London. As all the others possibly interested in the Will of the late Roger Melton, and whose names are given to me in his instructions regarding the reading of the Will, have been advised, and have expressed their intention of being present at that event on being apprised of the time and place, I now beg to inform you that by cable message received the date scheduled for arrival at the Port of London was January 1 prox. I therefore beg to notify you, subject to postponement due to the non-arrival of the _Amazon_, the reading of the Will of the late Roger Melton, Esq., will take place in my office on Thursday, January 3 prox., at eleven o'clock a.m. I have the honour to be, sir, Yours faithfully, EDWARD BINGHAM TRENT. TO ERNEST ROGER HALBARD MELTON, ESQ., HUMCROFT, SALOP. Cable: _Rupert Sent Leger to Edward Bingham Trent_. _Amazon_ arrives London January 1. SENT LEGER. _Telegram_ (_per Lloyd's_): _Rupert Sent Leger to Edward Bingham Trent_. THE LIZARD, _December_ 31. _Amazon_ arrives London to-morrow morning. All well.--LEGER. _Telegram_: _Edward Bingham Trent to Ernest Roger Halbard Mellon_. Rupert Sent Leger arrived. Reading Will takes place as arranged.--TRENT. ERNEST ROGER HALBARD MELTON'S RECORD. _January_ 4, 1907. The reading of Uncle Roger's Will is over. Father got a duplicate of Mr. Trent's letter to me, and of the cable and two telegrams pasted into this Record. We both waited patiently till the third--that is, we did not say anything. The only impatient member of our family was my mother. She _did_ say things, and if old Trent had been here his ears would have been red. She said what ridiculous nonsense it was delaying the reading of the Will, and keeping the Heir waiting for the arrival of an obscure person who wasn't even a member of the family, inasmuch as he didn't bear the name. I don't think it's quite respectful to one who is some day to be Head of the House! I thought father was weakening in his patience when he said: "True, my dear--true!" and got up and left the room. Some time afterwards when I passed the library I heard him walking up and down. Father and I went up to town on the afternoon of Wednesday, January 2. We stayed, of course, at Claridge's, where we always stay when we go to town. Mother wanted to come, too, but father thought it better not. She would not agree to stay at home till we both promised to send her separate telegrams after the reading. At five minutes to eleven we entered Mr. Trent's office. Father would not go a moment earlier, as he said it was bad form to seem eager at any time, but most of all at the reading of a will. It was a rotten grind, for we had to be walking all over the neighbourhood for half an hour before it was time, not to be too early. When we went into the room we found there General Sir Colin MacKelpie and a big man, very bronzed, whom I took to be Rupert St. Leger--not a very creditable connection to look at, I thought! He and old MacKelpie took care to be in time! Rather low, I thought it. Mr. St. Leger was reading a letter. He had evidently come in but lately, for though he seemed to be eager about it, he was only at the first page, and I could see that there were many sheets. He did not look up when we came in, or till he had finished the letter; and you may be sure that neither I nor my father (who, as Head of the House, should have had more respect from him) took the trouble to go to him. After all, he is a pauper and a wastrel, and he has not the honour of bearing our Name. The General, however, came forward and greeted us both cordially. He evidently had forgotten--or pretended to have--the discourteous way he once treated me, for he spoke to me quite in a friendly way--I thought more warmly than he did to father. I was pleased to be spoken to so nicely, for, after all, whatever his manners may be, he is a distinguished man--has won the V.C. and a Baronetcy. He got the latter not long ago, after the Frontier War in India. I was not, however, led away into cordiality myself. I had not forgotten his rudeness, and I thought that he might be sucking up to me. I knew that when I had my dear Uncle Roger's many millions I should be a rather important person; and, of course, he knew it too. So I got even with him for his former impudence. When he held out his hand I put one finger in it, and said, "How do?" He got very red and turned away. Father and he had ended by glaring at each other, so neither of us was sorry to be done with him. All the time Mr. St. Leger did not seem to see or hear anything, but went on reading his letter. I thought the old MacSkelpie was going to bring him into the matter between us, for as he turned away I heard him say something under his breath. It sounded like "Help!" but Mr. S--- did not hear. He certainly no notice of it. As the MacS--- and Mr. S--- sat quite silent, neither looking at us, and as father was sitting on the other side of the room with his chin in his hand, and as I wanted to show that I was indifferent to the two S's, I took out this notebook, and went on with the Record, bringing it up to this moment. THE RECORD--_Continued_. When I had finished writing I looked over at Rupert. When he saw us, he jumped up and went over to father and shook his hand quite warmly. Father took him very coolly. Rupert, however, did not seem to see it, but came towards me heartily. I happened to be doing something else at the moment, and at first I did not see his hand; but just as I was looking at it the clock struck eleven. Whilst it was striking Mr. Trent came into the room. Close behind him came his clerk, carrying a locked tin box. There were two other men also. He bowed to us all in turn, beginning with me. I was standing opposite the door; the others were scattered about. Father sat still, but Sir Colin and Mr. St. Leger rose. Mr. Trent not did shake hands with any of us--not even me. Nothing but his respectful bow. That is the etiquette for an attorney, I understand, on such formal occasions. He sat down at the end of the big table in the centre of the room, and asked us to sit round. Father, of course, as Head of the Family, took the seat at his right hand. Sir Colin and St. Leger went to the other side, the former taking the seat next to the attorney. The General knows, of course, that a Baronet takes precedence at a ceremony. I may be a Baronet some day myself, and have to know these things. The clerk took the key which his master handed to him, opened the tin box, and took from it a bundle of papers tied with red tape. This he placed before the attorney, and put the empty box behind him on the floor. Then he and the other man sat at the far end of the table; the latter took out a big notebook and several pencils, and put them before him. He was evidently a shorthand-writer. Mr. Trent removed the tape from the bundle of papers, which he placed a little distance in front of him. He took a sealed envelope from the top, broke the seal, opened the envelope, and from it took a parchment, in the folds of which were some sealed envelopes, which he laid in a heap in front of the other paper. Then he unfolded the parchment, and laid it before him with the outside page up. He fixed his glasses, and said: "Gentlemen, the sealed envelope which you have seen me open is endorsed 'My Last Will and Testament--ROGER MELTON, _June_, 1906.' This document"--holding it up--"is as follows: "'I Roger Melton of Openshaw Grange in the County of Dorset; of number one hundred and twenty-three Berkeley Square London; and of the Castle of Vissarion in the Land of the Blue Mountains, being of sound mind do make this my Last Will and Testament on this day Monday the eleventh day of the month of June in the year of Our Lord one thousand nine hundred and six at the office of my old friend and Attorney Edward Bingham Trent in number one hundred and seventy-six Lincoln's Inn Fields London hereby revoking all other wills that I may have formerly made and giving this as my sole and last Will making dispositions of my property as follows: "'1. To my kinsman and nephew Ernest Halbard Melton Esquire, justice of the Peace, Humcroft the County of Salop, for his sole use and benefit the sum of twenty thousand pounds sterling free of all Duties Taxes and charges whatever to be paid out of my Five per centum Bonds of the City of Montreal, Canada. "'2. To my respected friend and colleague as co-trustee to the Will of my late sister Patience late widow of the late Captain Rupert Sent Leger who predeceased her, Major-General Sir Colin Alexander MacKelpie, Baronet, holder of the Victoria Cross, Knight Commander of the Order of the Bath, of Croom in the county of Ross Scotland a sum of Twenty thousand pounds sterling free of all Taxes and charges whatsoever; to be paid out of my Five per centum Bonds of the City of Toronto, Canada. "'3. To Miss Janet MacKelpie presently residing at Croom in the County of Ross Scotland the sum of Twenty thousand pounds sterling free of all Duties Taxes and Charges whatsoever, to be paid out of my Five per centum Bonds of the London County Council. "'4. To the various persons charities and Trustees named in the schedule attached to this Will and marked A. the various sums mentioned therein, all free of Duties and Taxes and charges whatsoever.'" Here Mr. Trent read out the list here following, and announced for our immediate understanding of the situation the total amount as two hundred and fifty thousand pounds. Many of the beneficiaries were old friends, comrades, dependents, and servants, some of them being left

regard

How many times the word 'regard' appears in the text?

you; and if the sword of an old soldier--it is all I have--can ever serve you in any way, it and its master's life are, and shall be, whilst life remains to him, yours. It grieves me to think that Janet cannot, through my act, be given that ease and tranquillity of spirit which come from competence. But, my dear Rupert, you will be of full age in seven years more. Then, if you are in the same mind--and I am sure you will not change--you, being your own master, can do freely as you will. In the meantime, to secure, so far as I can, my dear Janet against any malign stroke of fortune, I have given orders to my factor to remit semi-annually to Janet one full half of such income as may be derived in any form from my estate of Croom. It is, I am sorry to say, heavily mortgaged; but of such as is--or may be, free from such charge as the mortgage entails--something at least will, I trust, remain to her. And, my dear boy, I can frankly say that it is to me a real pleasure that you and I can be linked in one more bond in this association of purpose. I have always held you in my heart as though you were my own son. Let me tell you now that you have acted as I should have liked a son of my own, had I been blessed with one, to have acted. God bless you, my dear. Yours ever, COLIN ALEX. MACKELPIE. _Letter from Roger Melton_, _of Openshaw Grange_, _to Rupert Sent Leger_, _Esq._, 14, _Newland Park_, _Dulwich_, _London_, _S.E._ _July_ 1, 1892. MY DEAR NEPHEW, Your letter of the 30th ult. received. Have carefully considered matter stated, and have come to the conclusion that my duty as a trustee would not allow me to give full consent, as you wish. Let me explain. The testator, in making her will, intended that such fortune as she had at disposal should be used to supply to you her son such benefits as its annual product should procure. To this end, and to provide against wastefulness or foolishness on your part, or, indeed, against any generosity, howsoever worthy, which might impoverish you and so defeat her benevolent intentions regarding your education, comfort, and future good, she did not place the estate directly in your hands, leaving you to do as you might feel inclined about it. But, on the contrary, she entrusted the corpus of it in the hands of men whom she believed should be resolute enough and strong enough to carry out her intent, even against any cajolements or pressure which might be employed to the contrary. It being her intention, then, that such trustees as she appointed would use for your benefit the interest accruing annually from the capital at command, _and that only_ (as specifically directed in the will), so that on your arriving at full age the capital entrusted to us should be handed over to you intact, I find a hard-and-fast duty in the matter of adhering exactly to the directions given. I have no doubt that my co-trustees regard the matter in exactly the same light. Under the circumstances, therefore, we, the trustees, have not only a single and united duty towards you as the object of the testator's wishes, but towards each other as regards the manner of the carrying out of that duty. I take it, therefore, that it would not be consonant with the spirit of the trust or of our own ideas in accepting it that any of us should take a course pleasant to himself which would or might involve a stern opposition on the part of other of the co-trustees. We have each of us to do the unpleasant part of this duty without fear or favour. You understand, of course, that the time which must elapse before you come into absolute possession of your estate is a limited one. As by the terms of the will we are to hand over our trust when you have reached the age of twenty-one, there are only seven years to expire. But till then, though I should gladly meet your wishes if I could, I must adhere to the duty which I have undertaken. At the expiration of that period you will be quite free to divest yourself of your estate without protest or comment of any man. Having now expressed as clearly as I can the limitations by which I am bound with regard to the corpus of your estate, let me say that in any other way which is in my power or discretion I shall be most happy to see your wishes carried out so far as rests with me. Indeed, I shall undertake to use what influence I may possess with my co-trustees to induce them to take a similar view of your wishes. In my own thinking you are quite free to use your own property in your own way. But as, until you shall have attained your majority, you have only life-user in your mother's bequest, you are only at liberty to deal with the annual increment. On our part as trustees we have a first charge on that increment to be used for purposes of your maintenance, clothes, and education. As to what may remain over each half-year, you will be free to deal with it as you choose. On receiving from you a written authorization to your trustees, if you desire the whole sum or any part of it to be paid over to Miss Janet MacKelpie, I shall see that it is effected. Believe me, that our duty is to protect the corpus of the estate, and to this end we may not act on any instruction to imperil it. But there our warranty stops. We can deal during our trusteeship with the corpus only. Further, lest there should arise any error on your part, we can deal with any general instruction for only so long as it may remain unrevoked. You are, and must be, free to alter your instructions or authorizations at any time. Thus your latest document must be used for our guidance. As to the general principle involved in your wish I make no comment. You are at liberty to deal with your own how you will. I quite understand that your impulse is a generous one, and I fully believe that it is in consonance with what had always been the wishes of my sister. Had she been happily alive and had to give judgment of your intent, I am convinced that she would have approved. Therefore, my dear nephew, should you so wish, I shall be happy for her sake as well as your own to pay over on your account (as a confidential matter between you and me), but from my own pocket, a sum equal to that which you wish transferred to Miss Janet MacKelpie. On hearing from you I shall know how to act in the matter. With all good wishes, Believe me to be, Your affectionate uncle, ROGER MELTON. TO RUPERT SENT LEGER, ESQ. _Letter from Rupert Sent Leger to Roger Melton_, _July_ 5, 1892. MY DEAR UNCLE, Thank you heartily for your kind letter. I quite understand, and now see that I should not have asked you as a trustee, such a thing. I see your duty clearly, and agree with your view of it. I enclose a letter directed to my trustees, asking them to pay over annually till further direction to Miss Janet MacKelpie at this address whatever sum may remain over from the interest of my mother's bequest after deduction of such expenses as you may deem fit for my maintenance, clothing, and education, together with a sum of one pound sterling per month, which was the amount my dear mother always gave me for my personal use--"pocket-money," she called it. With regard to your most kind and generous offer to give to my dear Aunt Janet the sum which I would have given myself, had such been in my power, I thank you most truly and sincerely, both for my dear aunt (to whom, of course, I shall not mention the matter unless you specially authorize me) and myself. But, indeed, I think it will be better not to offer it. Aunt Janet is very proud, and would not accept any benefit. With me, of course, it is different, for since I was a wee child she has been like another mother to me, and I love her very much. Since my mother died--and she, of course, was all-in-all to me--there has been no other. And in such a love as ours pride has no place. Thank you again, dear uncle, and God bless you. Your loving nephew, RUPERT SENT LEGER. ERNEST ROGER HALBARD MELTON'S RECORD--_Continued_. And now _re_ the remaining one of Sir Geoffrey's children, Roger. He was the third child and third son, the only daughter, Patience, having been born twenty years after the last of the four sons. Concerning Roger, I shall put down all I have heard of him from my father and grandfather. From my grand-aunt I heard nothing, I was a very small kid when she died; but I remember seeing her, but only once. A very tall, handsome woman of a little over thirty, with very dark hair and light-coloured eyes. I think they were either grey or blue, but I can't remember which. She looked very proud and haughty, but I am bound to say that she was very nice to me. I remember feeling very jealous of Rupert because his mother looked so distinguished. Rupert was eight years older than me, and I was afraid he would beat me if I said anything he did not like. So I was silent except when I forgot to be, and Rupert said very unkindly, and I think very unfairly, that I was "A sulky little beast." I haven't forgot that, and I don't mean to. However, it doesn't matter much what he said or thought. There he is--if he is at all--where no one can find him, with no money or nothing, for what little he had he settled when he came of age, on the MacSkelpie. He wanted to give it to her when his mother died, but father, who was a trustee, refused; and Uncle Roger, as I call him, who is another, thought the trustees had no power to allow Rupert to throw away his matrimony, as I called it, making a joke to father when he called it patrimony. Old Sir Colin MacSkelpie, who is the third, said he couldn't take any part in such a permission, as the MacSkelpie was his niece. He is a rude old man, that. I remember when, not remembering his relationship, I spoke of the MacSkelpie, he caught me a clip on the ear that sent me across the room. His Scotch is very broad. I can hear him say, "Hae some attempt at even Soothern manners, and dinna misca' yer betters, ye young puddock, or I'll wring yer snoot!" Father was, I could see, very much offended, but he didn't say anything. He remembered, I think, that the General is a V.C. man, and was fond of fighting duels. But to show that the fault was not his, _he_ wrung _my_ ear--and the same ear too! I suppose he thought that was justice! But it's only right to say that he made up for it afterwards. When the General had gone he gave me a five-pound note. I don't think Uncle Roger was very pleased with the way Rupert behaved about the legacy, for I don't think he ever saw him from that day to this. Perhaps, of course, it was because Rupert ran away shortly afterwards; but I shall tell about that when I come to him. After all, why should my uncle bother about him? He is not a Melton at all, and I am to be Head of the House--of course, when the Lord thinks right to take father to Himself! Uncle Roger has tons of money, and he never married, so if he wants to leave it in the right direction he needn't have any trouble. He made his money in what he calls "the Eastern Trade." This, so far as I can gather, takes in the Levant and all east of it. I know he has what they call in trade "houses" in all sorts of places--Turkey, and Greece, and all round them, Morocco, Egypt, and Southern Russia, and the Holy Land; then on to Persia, India, and all round it; the Chersonese, China, Japan, and the Pacific Islands. It is not to be expected that we landowners can know much about trade, but my uncle covers--or alas! I must say "covered"--a lot of ground, I can tell you. Uncle Roger was a very grim sort of man, and only that I was brought up to try and be kind to him I shouldn't ever have dared to speak to him. But when was a child father and mother--especially mother--forced me to go and see him and be affectionate to him. He wasn't ever even civil to me, that I can remember--grumpy old bear! But, then, he never saw Rupert at all, so that I take it Master R--- is out of the running altogether for testamentary honours. The last time I saw him myself he was distinctly rude. He treated me as a boy, though I was getting on for eighteen years of age. I came into his office without knocking; and without looking up from his desk, where he was writing, he said: "Get out! Why do you venture to disturb me when I'm busy? Get out, and be damned to you!" I waited where I was, ready to transfix him with my eye when he should look up, for I cannot forget that when my father dies I shall be Head of my House. But when he did there was no transfixing possible. He said quite coolly: "Oh, it's you, is it? I thought it was one of my office boys. Sit down, if you want to see me, and wait till I am ready." So I sat down and waited. Father always said that I should try to conciliate and please my uncle. Father is a very shrewd man, and Uncle Roger is a very rich one. But I don't think Uncle R--- is as shrewd as he thinks he is. He sometimes makes awful mistakes in business. For instance, some years ago he bought an enormous estate on the Adriatic, in the country they call the "Land of Blue Mountains." At least, he says he bought it. He told father so in confidence. But he didn't show any title-deeds, and I'm greatly afraid he was "had." A bad job for me that he was, for father believes he paid an enormous sum for it, and as I am his natural heir, it reduces his available estate to so much less. And now about Rupert. As I have said, he ran away when he was about fourteen, and we did not hear about him for years. When we--or, rather, my father--did hear of him, it was no good that he heard. He had gone as a cabin-boy on a sailing ship round the Horn. Then he joined an exploring party through the centre of Patagonia, and then another up in Alaska, and a third to the Aleutian Islands. After that he went through Central America, and then to Western Africa, the Pacific Islands, India, and a lot of places. We all know the wisdom of the adage that "A rolling stone gathers no moss"; and certainly, if there be any value in moss, Cousin Rupert will die a poor man. Indeed, nothing will stand his idiotic, boastful wastefulness. Look at the way in which, when he came of age, he made over all his mother's little fortune to the MacSkelpie! I am sure that, though Uncle Roger made no comment to my father, who, as Head of our House, should, of course, have been informed, he was not pleased. My mother, who has a good fortune in her own right, and has had the sense to keep it in her own control--as I am to inherit it, and it is not in the entail, I am therefore quite impartial--I can approve of her spirited conduct in the matter. We never did think much of Rupert, anyhow; but now, since he is in the way to be a pauper, and therefore a dangerous nuisance, we look on him as quite an outsider. We know what he really is. For my own part, I loathe and despise him. Just now we are irritated with him, for we are all kept on tenterhooks regarding my dear Uncle Roger's Will. For Mr. Trent, the attorney who regulated my dear uncle's affairs and has possession of the Will, says it is necessary to know where every possible beneficiary is to be found before making the Will public, so we all have to wait. It is especially hard on me, who am the natural heir. It is very thoughtless indeed of Rupert to keep away like that. I wrote to old MacSkelpie about it, but he didn't seem to understand or to be at all anxious--he is not the heir! He said that probably Rupert Sent Leger--he, too, keeps to the old spelling--did not know of his uncle's death, or he would have taken steps to relieve our anxiety. Our anxiety, forsooth! We are not anxious; we only wish to _know_. And if we--and especially me--who have all the annoyance of thinking of the detestable and unfair death-duties, are anxious, we should be so. Well, anyhow, he'll get a properly bitter disappointment and set down when he does turn up and discovers that he is a pauper without hope! * * * * * To-day we (father and I) had letters from Mr. Trent, telling us that the whereabouts of "Mr. Rupert Sent Leger" had been discovered, and that a letter disclosing the fact of poor Uncle Roger's death had been sent to him. He was at Titicaca when last heard of. So goodness only knows when he may get the letter, which "asks him to come home at once, but only gives to him such information about the Will as has already been given to every member of the testator's family." And that is nil. I dare say we shall be kept waiting for months before we get hold of the estate which is ours. It is too bad! _Letter from Edward Bingham Trent to Ernest Roger Halbard Melton_. 176, LINCOLN'S INN FIELDS, _December_ 28, 1906. DEAR SIR, I am glad to be able to inform you that I have just heard by letter from Mr. Rupert St. Leger that he intended leaving Rio de Janeiro by the S.S. _Amazon_, of the Royal Mail Company, on December 15. He further stated that he would cable just before leaving Rio de Janeiro, to say on what day the ship was expected to arrive in London. As all the others possibly interested in the Will of the late Roger Melton, and whose names are given to me in his instructions regarding the reading of the Will, have been advised, and have expressed their intention of being present at that event on being apprised of the time and place, I now beg to inform you that by cable message received the date scheduled for arrival at the Port of London was January 1 prox. I therefore beg to notify you, subject to postponement due to the non-arrival of the _Amazon_, the reading of the Will of the late Roger Melton, Esq., will take place in my office on Thursday, January 3 prox., at eleven o'clock a.m. I have the honour to be, sir, Yours faithfully, EDWARD BINGHAM TRENT. TO ERNEST ROGER HALBARD MELTON, ESQ., HUMCROFT, SALOP. Cable: _Rupert Sent Leger to Edward Bingham Trent_. _Amazon_ arrives London January 1. SENT LEGER. _Telegram_ (_per Lloyd's_): _Rupert Sent Leger to Edward Bingham Trent_. THE LIZARD, _December_ 31. _Amazon_ arrives London to-morrow morning. All well.--LEGER. _Telegram_: _Edward Bingham Trent to Ernest Roger Halbard Mellon_. Rupert Sent Leger arrived. Reading Will takes place as arranged.--TRENT. ERNEST ROGER HALBARD MELTON'S RECORD. _January_ 4, 1907. The reading of Uncle Roger's Will is over. Father got a duplicate of Mr. Trent's letter to me, and of the cable and two telegrams pasted into this Record. We both waited patiently till the third--that is, we did not say anything. The only impatient member of our family was my mother. She _did_ say things, and if old Trent had been here his ears would have been red. She said what ridiculous nonsense it was delaying the reading of the Will, and keeping the Heir waiting for the arrival of an obscure person who wasn't even a member of the family, inasmuch as he didn't bear the name. I don't think it's quite respectful to one who is some day to be Head of the House! I thought father was weakening in his patience when he said: "True, my dear--true!" and got up and left the room. Some time afterwards when I passed the library I heard him walking up and down. Father and I went up to town on the afternoon of Wednesday, January 2. We stayed, of course, at Claridge's, where we always stay when we go to town. Mother wanted to come, too, but father thought it better not. She would not agree to stay at home till we both promised to send her separate telegrams after the reading. At five minutes to eleven we entered Mr. Trent's office. Father would not go a moment earlier, as he said it was bad form to seem eager at any time, but most of all at the reading of a will. It was a rotten grind, for we had to be walking all over the neighbourhood for half an hour before it was time, not to be too early. When we went into the room we found there General Sir Colin MacKelpie and a big man, very bronzed, whom I took to be Rupert St. Leger--not a very creditable connection to look at, I thought! He and old MacKelpie took care to be in time! Rather low, I thought it. Mr. St. Leger was reading a letter. He had evidently come in but lately, for though he seemed to be eager about it, he was only at the first page, and I could see that there were many sheets. He did not look up when we came in, or till he had finished the letter; and you may be sure that neither I nor my father (who, as Head of the House, should have had more respect from him) took the trouble to go to him. After all, he is a pauper and a wastrel, and he has not the honour of bearing our Name. The General, however, came forward and greeted us both cordially. He evidently had forgotten--or pretended to have--the discourteous way he once treated me, for he spoke to me quite in a friendly way--I thought more warmly than he did to father. I was pleased to be spoken to so nicely, for, after all, whatever his manners may be, he is a distinguished man--has won the V.C. and a Baronetcy. He got the latter not long ago, after the Frontier War in India. I was not, however, led away into cordiality myself. I had not forgotten his rudeness, and I thought that he might be sucking up to me. I knew that when I had my dear Uncle Roger's many millions I should be a rather important person; and, of course, he knew it too. So I got even with him for his former impudence. When he held out his hand I put one finger in it, and said, "How do?" He got very red and turned away. Father and he had ended by glaring at each other, so neither of us was sorry to be done with him. All the time Mr. St. Leger did not seem to see or hear anything, but went on reading his letter. I thought the old MacSkelpie was going to bring him into the matter between us, for as he turned away I heard him say something under his breath. It sounded like "Help!" but Mr. S--- did not hear. He certainly no notice of it. As the MacS--- and Mr. S--- sat quite silent, neither looking at us, and as father was sitting on the other side of the room with his chin in his hand, and as I wanted to show that I was indifferent to the two S's, I took out this notebook, and went on with the Record, bringing it up to this moment. THE RECORD--_Continued_. When I had finished writing I looked over at Rupert. When he saw us, he jumped up and went over to father and shook his hand quite warmly. Father took him very coolly. Rupert, however, did not seem to see it, but came towards me heartily. I happened to be doing something else at the moment, and at first I did not see his hand; but just as I was looking at it the clock struck eleven. Whilst it was striking Mr. Trent came into the room. Close behind him came his clerk, carrying a locked tin box. There were two other men also. He bowed to us all in turn, beginning with me. I was standing opposite the door; the others were scattered about. Father sat still, but Sir Colin and Mr. St. Leger rose. Mr. Trent not did shake hands with any of us--not even me. Nothing but his respectful bow. That is the etiquette for an attorney, I understand, on such formal occasions. He sat down at the end of the big table in the centre of the room, and asked us to sit round. Father, of course, as Head of the Family, took the seat at his right hand. Sir Colin and St. Leger went to the other side, the former taking the seat next to the attorney. The General knows, of course, that a Baronet takes precedence at a ceremony. I may be a Baronet some day myself, and have to know these things. The clerk took the key which his master handed to him, opened the tin box, and took from it a bundle of papers tied with red tape. This he placed before the attorney, and put the empty box behind him on the floor. Then he and the other man sat at the far end of the table; the latter took out a big notebook and several pencils, and put them before him. He was evidently a shorthand-writer. Mr. Trent removed the tape from the bundle of papers, which he placed a little distance in front of him. He took a sealed envelope from the top, broke the seal, opened the envelope, and from it took a parchment, in the folds of which were some sealed envelopes, which he laid in a heap in front of the other paper. Then he unfolded the parchment, and laid it before him with the outside page up. He fixed his glasses, and said: "Gentlemen, the sealed envelope which you have seen me open is endorsed 'My Last Will and Testament--ROGER MELTON, _June_, 1906.' This document"--holding it up--"is as follows: "'I Roger Melton of Openshaw Grange in the County of Dorset; of number one hundred and twenty-three Berkeley Square London; and of the Castle of Vissarion in the Land of the Blue Mountains, being of sound mind do make this my Last Will and Testament on this day Monday the eleventh day of the month of June in the year of Our Lord one thousand nine hundred and six at the office of my old friend and Attorney Edward Bingham Trent in number one hundred and seventy-six Lincoln's Inn Fields London hereby revoking all other wills that I may have formerly made and giving this as my sole and last Will making dispositions of my property as follows: "'1. To my kinsman and nephew Ernest Halbard Melton Esquire, justice of the Peace, Humcroft the County of Salop, for his sole use and benefit the sum of twenty thousand pounds sterling free of all Duties Taxes and charges whatever to be paid out of my Five per centum Bonds of the City of Montreal, Canada. "'2. To my respected friend and colleague as co-trustee to the Will of my late sister Patience late widow of the late Captain Rupert Sent Leger who predeceased her, Major-General Sir Colin Alexander MacKelpie, Baronet, holder of the Victoria Cross, Knight Commander of the Order of the Bath, of Croom in the county of Ross Scotland a sum of Twenty thousand pounds sterling free of all Taxes and charges whatsoever; to be paid out of my Five per centum Bonds of the City of Toronto, Canada. "'3. To Miss Janet MacKelpie presently residing at Croom in the County of Ross Scotland the sum of Twenty thousand pounds sterling free of all Duties Taxes and Charges whatsoever, to be paid out of my Five per centum Bonds of the London County Council. "'4. To the various persons charities and Trustees named in the schedule attached to this Will and marked A. the various sums mentioned therein, all free of Duties and Taxes and charges whatsoever.'" Here Mr. Trent read out the list here following, and announced for our immediate understanding of the situation the total amount as two hundred and fifty thousand pounds. Many of the beneficiaries were old friends, comrades, dependents, and servants, some of them being left

over

How many times the word 'over' appears in the text?

you; and if the sword of an old soldier--it is all I have--can ever serve you in any way, it and its master's life are, and shall be, whilst life remains to him, yours. It grieves me to think that Janet cannot, through my act, be given that ease and tranquillity of spirit which come from competence. But, my dear Rupert, you will be of full age in seven years more. Then, if you are in the same mind--and I am sure you will not change--you, being your own master, can do freely as you will. In the meantime, to secure, so far as I can, my dear Janet against any malign stroke of fortune, I have given orders to my factor to remit semi-annually to Janet one full half of such income as may be derived in any form from my estate of Croom. It is, I am sorry to say, heavily mortgaged; but of such as is--or may be, free from such charge as the mortgage entails--something at least will, I trust, remain to her. And, my dear boy, I can frankly say that it is to me a real pleasure that you and I can be linked in one more bond in this association of purpose. I have always held you in my heart as though you were my own son. Let me tell you now that you have acted as I should have liked a son of my own, had I been blessed with one, to have acted. God bless you, my dear. Yours ever, COLIN ALEX. MACKELPIE. _Letter from Roger Melton_, _of Openshaw Grange_, _to Rupert Sent Leger_, _Esq._, 14, _Newland Park_, _Dulwich_, _London_, _S.E._ _July_ 1, 1892. MY DEAR NEPHEW, Your letter of the 30th ult. received. Have carefully considered matter stated, and have come to the conclusion that my duty as a trustee would not allow me to give full consent, as you wish. Let me explain. The testator, in making her will, intended that such fortune as she had at disposal should be used to supply to you her son such benefits as its annual product should procure. To this end, and to provide against wastefulness or foolishness on your part, or, indeed, against any generosity, howsoever worthy, which might impoverish you and so defeat her benevolent intentions regarding your education, comfort, and future good, she did not place the estate directly in your hands, leaving you to do as you might feel inclined about it. But, on the contrary, she entrusted the corpus of it in the hands of men whom she believed should be resolute enough and strong enough to carry out her intent, even against any cajolements or pressure which might be employed to the contrary. It being her intention, then, that such trustees as she appointed would use for your benefit the interest accruing annually from the capital at command, _and that only_ (as specifically directed in the will), so that on your arriving at full age the capital entrusted to us should be handed over to you intact, I find a hard-and-fast duty in the matter of adhering exactly to the directions given. I have no doubt that my co-trustees regard the matter in exactly the same light. Under the circumstances, therefore, we, the trustees, have not only a single and united duty towards you as the object of the testator's wishes, but towards each other as regards the manner of the carrying out of that duty. I take it, therefore, that it would not be consonant with the spirit of the trust or of our own ideas in accepting it that any of us should take a course pleasant to himself which would or might involve a stern opposition on the part of other of the co-trustees. We have each of us to do the unpleasant part of this duty without fear or favour. You understand, of course, that the time which must elapse before you come into absolute possession of your estate is a limited one. As by the terms of the will we are to hand over our trust when you have reached the age of twenty-one, there are only seven years to expire. But till then, though I should gladly meet your wishes if I could, I must adhere to the duty which I have undertaken. At the expiration of that period you will be quite free to divest yourself of your estate without protest or comment of any man. Having now expressed as clearly as I can the limitations by which I am bound with regard to the corpus of your estate, let me say that in any other way which is in my power or discretion I shall be most happy to see your wishes carried out so far as rests with me. Indeed, I shall undertake to use what influence I may possess with my co-trustees to induce them to take a similar view of your wishes. In my own thinking you are quite free to use your own property in your own way. But as, until you shall have attained your majority, you have only life-user in your mother's bequest, you are only at liberty to deal with the annual increment. On our part as trustees we have a first charge on that increment to be used for purposes of your maintenance, clothes, and education. As to what may remain over each half-year, you will be free to deal with it as you choose. On receiving from you a written authorization to your trustees, if you desire the whole sum or any part of it to be paid over to Miss Janet MacKelpie, I shall see that it is effected. Believe me, that our duty is to protect the corpus of the estate, and to this end we may not act on any instruction to imperil it. But there our warranty stops. We can deal during our trusteeship with the corpus only. Further, lest there should arise any error on your part, we can deal with any general instruction for only so long as it may remain unrevoked. You are, and must be, free to alter your instructions or authorizations at any time. Thus your latest document must be used for our guidance. As to the general principle involved in your wish I make no comment. You are at liberty to deal with your own how you will. I quite understand that your impulse is a generous one, and I fully believe that it is in consonance with what had always been the wishes of my sister. Had she been happily alive and had to give judgment of your intent, I am convinced that she would have approved. Therefore, my dear nephew, should you so wish, I shall be happy for her sake as well as your own to pay over on your account (as a confidential matter between you and me), but from my own pocket, a sum equal to that which you wish transferred to Miss Janet MacKelpie. On hearing from you I shall know how to act in the matter. With all good wishes, Believe me to be, Your affectionate uncle, ROGER MELTON. TO RUPERT SENT LEGER, ESQ. _Letter from Rupert Sent Leger to Roger Melton_, _July_ 5, 1892. MY DEAR UNCLE, Thank you heartily for your kind letter. I quite understand, and now see that I should not have asked you as a trustee, such a thing. I see your duty clearly, and agree with your view of it. I enclose a letter directed to my trustees, asking them to pay over annually till further direction to Miss Janet MacKelpie at this address whatever sum may remain over from the interest of my mother's bequest after deduction of such expenses as you may deem fit for my maintenance, clothing, and education, together with a sum of one pound sterling per month, which was the amount my dear mother always gave me for my personal use--"pocket-money," she called it. With regard to your most kind and generous offer to give to my dear Aunt Janet the sum which I would have given myself, had such been in my power, I thank you most truly and sincerely, both for my dear aunt (to whom, of course, I shall not mention the matter unless you specially authorize me) and myself. But, indeed, I think it will be better not to offer it. Aunt Janet is very proud, and would not accept any benefit. With me, of course, it is different, for since I was a wee child she has been like another mother to me, and I love her very much. Since my mother died--and she, of course, was all-in-all to me--there has been no other. And in such a love as ours pride has no place. Thank you again, dear uncle, and God bless you. Your loving nephew, RUPERT SENT LEGER. ERNEST ROGER HALBARD MELTON'S RECORD--_Continued_. And now _re_ the remaining one of Sir Geoffrey's children, Roger. He was the third child and third son, the only daughter, Patience, having been born twenty years after the last of the four sons. Concerning Roger, I shall put down all I have heard of him from my father and grandfather. From my grand-aunt I heard nothing, I was a very small kid when she died; but I remember seeing her, but only once. A very tall, handsome woman of a little over thirty, with very dark hair and light-coloured eyes. I think they were either grey or blue, but I can't remember which. She looked very proud and haughty, but I am bound to say that she was very nice to me. I remember feeling very jealous of Rupert because his mother looked so distinguished. Rupert was eight years older than me, and I was afraid he would beat me if I said anything he did not like. So I was silent except when I forgot to be, and Rupert said very unkindly, and I think very unfairly, that I was "A sulky little beast." I haven't forgot that, and I don't mean to. However, it doesn't matter much what he said or thought. There he is--if he is at all--where no one can find him, with no money or nothing, for what little he had he settled when he came of age, on the MacSkelpie. He wanted to give it to her when his mother died, but father, who was a trustee, refused; and Uncle Roger, as I call him, who is another, thought the trustees had no power to allow Rupert to throw away his matrimony, as I called it, making a joke to father when he called it patrimony. Old Sir Colin MacSkelpie, who is the third, said he couldn't take any part in such a permission, as the MacSkelpie was his niece. He is a rude old man, that. I remember when, not remembering his relationship, I spoke of the MacSkelpie, he caught me a clip on the ear that sent me across the room. His Scotch is very broad. I can hear him say, "Hae some attempt at even Soothern manners, and dinna misca' yer betters, ye young puddock, or I'll wring yer snoot!" Father was, I could see, very much offended, but he didn't say anything. He remembered, I think, that the General is a V.C. man, and was fond of fighting duels. But to show that the fault was not his, _he_ wrung _my_ ear--and the same ear too! I suppose he thought that was justice! But it's only right to say that he made up for it afterwards. When the General had gone he gave me a five-pound note. I don't think Uncle Roger was very pleased with the way Rupert behaved about the legacy, for I don't think he ever saw him from that day to this. Perhaps, of course, it was because Rupert ran away shortly afterwards; but I shall tell about that when I come to him. After all, why should my uncle bother about him? He is not a Melton at all, and I am to be Head of the House--of course, when the Lord thinks right to take father to Himself! Uncle Roger has tons of money, and he never married, so if he wants to leave it in the right direction he needn't have any trouble. He made his money in what he calls "the Eastern Trade." This, so far as I can gather, takes in the Levant and all east of it. I know he has what they call in trade "houses" in all sorts of places--Turkey, and Greece, and all round them, Morocco, Egypt, and Southern Russia, and the Holy Land; then on to Persia, India, and all round it; the Chersonese, China, Japan, and the Pacific Islands. It is not to be expected that we landowners can know much about trade, but my uncle covers--or alas! I must say "covered"--a lot of ground, I can tell you. Uncle Roger was a very grim sort of man, and only that I was brought up to try and be kind to him I shouldn't ever have dared to speak to him. But when was a child father and mother--especially mother--forced me to go and see him and be affectionate to him. He wasn't ever even civil to me, that I can remember--grumpy old bear! But, then, he never saw Rupert at all, so that I take it Master R--- is out of the running altogether for testamentary honours. The last time I saw him myself he was distinctly rude. He treated me as a boy, though I was getting on for eighteen years of age. I came into his office without knocking; and without looking up from his desk, where he was writing, he said: "Get out! Why do you venture to disturb me when I'm busy? Get out, and be damned to you!" I waited where I was, ready to transfix him with my eye when he should look up, for I cannot forget that when my father dies I shall be Head of my House. But when he did there was no transfixing possible. He said quite coolly: "Oh, it's you, is it? I thought it was one of my office boys. Sit down, if you want to see me, and wait till I am ready." So I sat down and waited. Father always said that I should try to conciliate and please my uncle. Father is a very shrewd man, and Uncle Roger is a very rich one. But I don't think Uncle R--- is as shrewd as he thinks he is. He sometimes makes awful mistakes in business. For instance, some years ago he bought an enormous estate on the Adriatic, in the country they call the "Land of Blue Mountains." At least, he says he bought it. He told father so in confidence. But he didn't show any title-deeds, and I'm greatly afraid he was "had." A bad job for me that he was, for father believes he paid an enormous sum for it, and as I am his natural heir, it reduces his available estate to so much less. And now about Rupert. As I have said, he ran away when he was about fourteen, and we did not hear about him for years. When we--or, rather, my father--did hear of him, it was no good that he heard. He had gone as a cabin-boy on a sailing ship round the Horn. Then he joined an exploring party through the centre of Patagonia, and then another up in Alaska, and a third to the Aleutian Islands. After that he went through Central America, and then to Western Africa, the Pacific Islands, India, and a lot of places. We all know the wisdom of the adage that "A rolling stone gathers no moss"; and certainly, if there be any value in moss, Cousin Rupert will die a poor man. Indeed, nothing will stand his idiotic, boastful wastefulness. Look at the way in which, when he came of age, he made over all his mother's little fortune to the MacSkelpie! I am sure that, though Uncle Roger made no comment to my father, who, as Head of our House, should, of course, have been informed, he was not pleased. My mother, who has a good fortune in her own right, and has had the sense to keep it in her own control--as I am to inherit it, and it is not in the entail, I am therefore quite impartial--I can approve of her spirited conduct in the matter. We never did think much of Rupert, anyhow; but now, since he is in the way to be a pauper, and therefore a dangerous nuisance, we look on him as quite an outsider. We know what he really is. For my own part, I loathe and despise him. Just now we are irritated with him, for we are all kept on tenterhooks regarding my dear Uncle Roger's Will. For Mr. Trent, the attorney who regulated my dear uncle's affairs and has possession of the Will, says it is necessary to know where every possible beneficiary is to be found before making the Will public, so we all have to wait. It is especially hard on me, who am the natural heir. It is very thoughtless indeed of Rupert to keep away like that. I wrote to old MacSkelpie about it, but he didn't seem to understand or to be at all anxious--he is not the heir! He said that probably Rupert Sent Leger--he, too, keeps to the old spelling--did not know of his uncle's death, or he would have taken steps to relieve our anxiety. Our anxiety, forsooth! We are not anxious; we only wish to _know_. And if we--and especially me--who have all the annoyance of thinking of the detestable and unfair death-duties, are anxious, we should be so. Well, anyhow, he'll get a properly bitter disappointment and set down when he does turn up and discovers that he is a pauper without hope! * * * * * To-day we (father and I) had letters from Mr. Trent, telling us that the whereabouts of "Mr. Rupert Sent Leger" had been discovered, and that a letter disclosing the fact of poor Uncle Roger's death had been sent to him. He was at Titicaca when last heard of. So goodness only knows when he may get the letter, which "asks him to come home at once, but only gives to him such information about the Will as has already been given to every member of the testator's family." And that is nil. I dare say we shall be kept waiting for months before we get hold of the estate which is ours. It is too bad! _Letter from Edward Bingham Trent to Ernest Roger Halbard Melton_. 176, LINCOLN'S INN FIELDS, _December_ 28, 1906. DEAR SIR, I am glad to be able to inform you that I have just heard by letter from Mr. Rupert St. Leger that he intended leaving Rio de Janeiro by the S.S. _Amazon_, of the Royal Mail Company, on December 15. He further stated that he would cable just before leaving Rio de Janeiro, to say on what day the ship was expected to arrive in London. As all the others possibly interested in the Will of the late Roger Melton, and whose names are given to me in his instructions regarding the reading of the Will, have been advised, and have expressed their intention of being present at that event on being apprised of the time and place, I now beg to inform you that by cable message received the date scheduled for arrival at the Port of London was January 1 prox. I therefore beg to notify you, subject to postponement due to the non-arrival of the _Amazon_, the reading of the Will of the late Roger Melton, Esq., will take place in my office on Thursday, January 3 prox., at eleven o'clock a.m. I have the honour to be, sir, Yours faithfully, EDWARD BINGHAM TRENT. TO ERNEST ROGER HALBARD MELTON, ESQ., HUMCROFT, SALOP. Cable: _Rupert Sent Leger to Edward Bingham Trent_. _Amazon_ arrives London January 1. SENT LEGER. _Telegram_ (_per Lloyd's_): _Rupert Sent Leger to Edward Bingham Trent_. THE LIZARD, _December_ 31. _Amazon_ arrives London to-morrow morning. All well.--LEGER. _Telegram_: _Edward Bingham Trent to Ernest Roger Halbard Mellon_. Rupert Sent Leger arrived. Reading Will takes place as arranged.--TRENT. ERNEST ROGER HALBARD MELTON'S RECORD. _January_ 4, 1907. The reading of Uncle Roger's Will is over. Father got a duplicate of Mr. Trent's letter to me, and of the cable and two telegrams pasted into this Record. We both waited patiently till the third--that is, we did not say anything. The only impatient member of our family was my mother. She _did_ say things, and if old Trent had been here his ears would have been red. She said what ridiculous nonsense it was delaying the reading of the Will, and keeping the Heir waiting for the arrival of an obscure person who wasn't even a member of the family, inasmuch as he didn't bear the name. I don't think it's quite respectful to one who is some day to be Head of the House! I thought father was weakening in his patience when he said: "True, my dear--true!" and got up and left the room. Some time afterwards when I passed the library I heard him walking up and down. Father and I went up to town on the afternoon of Wednesday, January 2. We stayed, of course, at Claridge's, where we always stay when we go to town. Mother wanted to come, too, but father thought it better not. She would not agree to stay at home till we both promised to send her separate telegrams after the reading. At five minutes to eleven we entered Mr. Trent's office. Father would not go a moment earlier, as he said it was bad form to seem eager at any time, but most of all at the reading of a will. It was a rotten grind, for we had to be walking all over the neighbourhood for half an hour before it was time, not to be too early. When we went into the room we found there General Sir Colin MacKelpie and a big man, very bronzed, whom I took to be Rupert St. Leger--not a very creditable connection to look at, I thought! He and old MacKelpie took care to be in time! Rather low, I thought it. Mr. St. Leger was reading a letter. He had evidently come in but lately, for though he seemed to be eager about it, he was only at the first page, and I could see that there were many sheets. He did not look up when we came in, or till he had finished the letter; and you may be sure that neither I nor my father (who, as Head of the House, should have had more respect from him) took the trouble to go to him. After all, he is a pauper and a wastrel, and he has not the honour of bearing our Name. The General, however, came forward and greeted us both cordially. He evidently had forgotten--or pretended to have--the discourteous way he once treated me, for he spoke to me quite in a friendly way--I thought more warmly than he did to father. I was pleased to be spoken to so nicely, for, after all, whatever his manners may be, he is a distinguished man--has won the V.C. and a Baronetcy. He got the latter not long ago, after the Frontier War in India. I was not, however, led away into cordiality myself. I had not forgotten his rudeness, and I thought that he might be sucking up to me. I knew that when I had my dear Uncle Roger's many millions I should be a rather important person; and, of course, he knew it too. So I got even with him for his former impudence. When he held out his hand I put one finger in it, and said, "How do?" He got very red and turned away. Father and he had ended by glaring at each other, so neither of us was sorry to be done with him. All the time Mr. St. Leger did not seem to see or hear anything, but went on reading his letter. I thought the old MacSkelpie was going to bring him into the matter between us, for as he turned away I heard him say something under his breath. It sounded like "Help!" but Mr. S--- did not hear. He certainly no notice of it. As the MacS--- and Mr. S--- sat quite silent, neither looking at us, and as father was sitting on the other side of the room with his chin in his hand, and as I wanted to show that I was indifferent to the two S's, I took out this notebook, and went on with the Record, bringing it up to this moment. THE RECORD--_Continued_. When I had finished writing I looked over at Rupert. When he saw us, he jumped up and went over to father and shook his hand quite warmly. Father took him very coolly. Rupert, however, did not seem to see it, but came towards me heartily. I happened to be doing something else at the moment, and at first I did not see his hand; but just as I was looking at it the clock struck eleven. Whilst it was striking Mr. Trent came into the room. Close behind him came his clerk, carrying a locked tin box. There were two other men also. He bowed to us all in turn, beginning with me. I was standing opposite the door; the others were scattered about. Father sat still, but Sir Colin and Mr. St. Leger rose. Mr. Trent not did shake hands with any of us--not even me. Nothing but his respectful bow. That is the etiquette for an attorney, I understand, on such formal occasions. He sat down at the end of the big table in the centre of the room, and asked us to sit round. Father, of course, as Head of the Family, took the seat at his right hand. Sir Colin and St. Leger went to the other side, the former taking the seat next to the attorney. The General knows, of course, that a Baronet takes precedence at a ceremony. I may be a Baronet some day myself, and have to know these things. The clerk took the key which his master handed to him, opened the tin box, and took from it a bundle of papers tied with red tape. This he placed before the attorney, and put the empty box behind him on the floor. Then he and the other man sat at the far end of the table; the latter took out a big notebook and several pencils, and put them before him. He was evidently a shorthand-writer. Mr. Trent removed the tape from the bundle of papers, which he placed a little distance in front of him. He took a sealed envelope from the top, broke the seal, opened the envelope, and from it took a parchment, in the folds of which were some sealed envelopes, which he laid in a heap in front of the other paper. Then he unfolded the parchment, and laid it before him with the outside page up. He fixed his glasses, and said: "Gentlemen, the sealed envelope which you have seen me open is endorsed 'My Last Will and Testament--ROGER MELTON, _June_, 1906.' This document"--holding it up--"is as follows: "'I Roger Melton of Openshaw Grange in the County of Dorset; of number one hundred and twenty-three Berkeley Square London; and of the Castle of Vissarion in the Land of the Blue Mountains, being of sound mind do make this my Last Will and Testament on this day Monday the eleventh day of the month of June in the year of Our Lord one thousand nine hundred and six at the office of my old friend and Attorney Edward Bingham Trent in number one hundred and seventy-six Lincoln's Inn Fields London hereby revoking all other wills that I may have formerly made and giving this as my sole and last Will making dispositions of my property as follows: "'1. To my kinsman and nephew Ernest Halbard Melton Esquire, justice of the Peace, Humcroft the County of Salop, for his sole use and benefit the sum of twenty thousand pounds sterling free of all Duties Taxes and charges whatever to be paid out of my Five per centum Bonds of the City of Montreal, Canada. "'2. To my respected friend and colleague as co-trustee to the Will of my late sister Patience late widow of the late Captain Rupert Sent Leger who predeceased her, Major-General Sir Colin Alexander MacKelpie, Baronet, holder of the Victoria Cross, Knight Commander of the Order of the Bath, of Croom in the county of Ross Scotland a sum of Twenty thousand pounds sterling free of all Taxes and charges whatsoever; to be paid out of my Five per centum Bonds of the City of Toronto, Canada. "'3. To Miss Janet MacKelpie presently residing at Croom in the County of Ross Scotland the sum of Twenty thousand pounds sterling free of all Duties Taxes and Charges whatsoever, to be paid out of my Five per centum Bonds of the London County Council. "'4. To the various persons charities and Trustees named in the schedule attached to this Will and marked A. the various sums mentioned therein, all free of Duties and Taxes and charges whatsoever.'" Here Mr. Trent read out the list here following, and announced for our immediate understanding of the situation the total amount as two hundred and fifty thousand pounds. Many of the beneficiaries were old friends, comrades, dependents, and servants, some of them being left

unless

How many times the word 'unless' appears in the text?

you; and if the sword of an old soldier--it is all I have--can ever serve you in any way, it and its master's life are, and shall be, whilst life remains to him, yours. It grieves me to think that Janet cannot, through my act, be given that ease and tranquillity of spirit which come from competence. But, my dear Rupert, you will be of full age in seven years more. Then, if you are in the same mind--and I am sure you will not change--you, being your own master, can do freely as you will. In the meantime, to secure, so far as I can, my dear Janet against any malign stroke of fortune, I have given orders to my factor to remit semi-annually to Janet one full half of such income as may be derived in any form from my estate of Croom. It is, I am sorry to say, heavily mortgaged; but of such as is--or may be, free from such charge as the mortgage entails--something at least will, I trust, remain to her. And, my dear boy, I can frankly say that it is to me a real pleasure that you and I can be linked in one more bond in this association of purpose. I have always held you in my heart as though you were my own son. Let me tell you now that you have acted as I should have liked a son of my own, had I been blessed with one, to have acted. God bless you, my dear. Yours ever, COLIN ALEX. MACKELPIE. _Letter from Roger Melton_, _of Openshaw Grange_, _to Rupert Sent Leger_, _Esq._, 14, _Newland Park_, _Dulwich_, _London_, _S.E._ _July_ 1, 1892. MY DEAR NEPHEW, Your letter of the 30th ult. received. Have carefully considered matter stated, and have come to the conclusion that my duty as a trustee would not allow me to give full consent, as you wish. Let me explain. The testator, in making her will, intended that such fortune as she had at disposal should be used to supply to you her son such benefits as its annual product should procure. To this end, and to provide against wastefulness or foolishness on your part, or, indeed, against any generosity, howsoever worthy, which might impoverish you and so defeat her benevolent intentions regarding your education, comfort, and future good, she did not place the estate directly in your hands, leaving you to do as you might feel inclined about it. But, on the contrary, she entrusted the corpus of it in the hands of men whom she believed should be resolute enough and strong enough to carry out her intent, even against any cajolements or pressure which might be employed to the contrary. It being her intention, then, that such trustees as she appointed would use for your benefit the interest accruing annually from the capital at command, _and that only_ (as specifically directed in the will), so that on your arriving at full age the capital entrusted to us should be handed over to you intact, I find a hard-and-fast duty in the matter of adhering exactly to the directions given. I have no doubt that my co-trustees regard the matter in exactly the same light. Under the circumstances, therefore, we, the trustees, have not only a single and united duty towards you as the object of the testator's wishes, but towards each other as regards the manner of the carrying out of that duty. I take it, therefore, that it would not be consonant with the spirit of the trust or of our own ideas in accepting it that any of us should take a course pleasant to himself which would or might involve a stern opposition on the part of other of the co-trustees. We have each of us to do the unpleasant part of this duty without fear or favour. You understand, of course, that the time which must elapse before you come into absolute possession of your estate is a limited one. As by the terms of the will we are to hand over our trust when you have reached the age of twenty-one, there are only seven years to expire. But till then, though I should gladly meet your wishes if I could, I must adhere to the duty which I have undertaken. At the expiration of that period you will be quite free to divest yourself of your estate without protest or comment of any man. Having now expressed as clearly as I can the limitations by which I am bound with regard to the corpus of your estate, let me say that in any other way which is in my power or discretion I shall be most happy to see your wishes carried out so far as rests with me. Indeed, I shall undertake to use what influence I may possess with my co-trustees to induce them to take a similar view of your wishes. In my own thinking you are quite free to use your own property in your own way. But as, until you shall have attained your majority, you have only life-user in your mother's bequest, you are only at liberty to deal with the annual increment. On our part as trustees we have a first charge on that increment to be used for purposes of your maintenance, clothes, and education. As to what may remain over each half-year, you will be free to deal with it as you choose. On receiving from you a written authorization to your trustees, if you desire the whole sum or any part of it to be paid over to Miss Janet MacKelpie, I shall see that it is effected. Believe me, that our duty is to protect the corpus of the estate, and to this end we may not act on any instruction to imperil it. But there our warranty stops. We can deal during our trusteeship with the corpus only. Further, lest there should arise any error on your part, we can deal with any general instruction for only so long as it may remain unrevoked. You are, and must be, free to alter your instructions or authorizations at any time. Thus your latest document must be used for our guidance. As to the general principle involved in your wish I make no comment. You are at liberty to deal with your own how you will. I quite understand that your impulse is a generous one, and I fully believe that it is in consonance with what had always been the wishes of my sister. Had she been happily alive and had to give judgment of your intent, I am convinced that she would have approved. Therefore, my dear nephew, should you so wish, I shall be happy for her sake as well as your own to pay over on your account (as a confidential matter between you and me), but from my own pocket, a sum equal to that which you wish transferred to Miss Janet MacKelpie. On hearing from you I shall know how to act in the matter. With all good wishes, Believe me to be, Your affectionate uncle, ROGER MELTON. TO RUPERT SENT LEGER, ESQ. _Letter from Rupert Sent Leger to Roger Melton_, _July_ 5, 1892. MY DEAR UNCLE, Thank you heartily for your kind letter. I quite understand, and now see that I should not have asked you as a trustee, such a thing. I see your duty clearly, and agree with your view of it. I enclose a letter directed to my trustees, asking them to pay over annually till further direction to Miss Janet MacKelpie at this address whatever sum may remain over from the interest of my mother's bequest after deduction of such expenses as you may deem fit for my maintenance, clothing, and education, together with a sum of one pound sterling per month, which was the amount my dear mother always gave me for my personal use--"pocket-money," she called it. With regard to your most kind and generous offer to give to my dear Aunt Janet the sum which I would have given myself, had such been in my power, I thank you most truly and sincerely, both for my dear aunt (to whom, of course, I shall not mention the matter unless you specially authorize me) and myself. But, indeed, I think it will be better not to offer it. Aunt Janet is very proud, and would not accept any benefit. With me, of course, it is different, for since I was a wee child she has been like another mother to me, and I love her very much. Since my mother died--and she, of course, was all-in-all to me--there has been no other. And in such a love as ours pride has no place. Thank you again, dear uncle, and God bless you. Your loving nephew, RUPERT SENT LEGER. ERNEST ROGER HALBARD MELTON'S RECORD--_Continued_. And now _re_ the remaining one of Sir Geoffrey's children, Roger. He was the third child and third son, the only daughter, Patience, having been born twenty years after the last of the four sons. Concerning Roger, I shall put down all I have heard of him from my father and grandfather. From my grand-aunt I heard nothing, I was a very small kid when she died; but I remember seeing her, but only once. A very tall, handsome woman of a little over thirty, with very dark hair and light-coloured eyes. I think they were either grey or blue, but I can't remember which. She looked very proud and haughty, but I am bound to say that she was very nice to me. I remember feeling very jealous of Rupert because his mother looked so distinguished. Rupert was eight years older than me, and I was afraid he would beat me if I said anything he did not like. So I was silent except when I forgot to be, and Rupert said very unkindly, and I think very unfairly, that I was "A sulky little beast." I haven't forgot that, and I don't mean to. However, it doesn't matter much what he said or thought. There he is--if he is at all--where no one can find him, with no money or nothing, for what little he had he settled when he came of age, on the MacSkelpie. He wanted to give it to her when his mother died, but father, who was a trustee, refused; and Uncle Roger, as I call him, who is another, thought the trustees had no power to allow Rupert to throw away his matrimony, as I called it, making a joke to father when he called it patrimony. Old Sir Colin MacSkelpie, who is the third, said he couldn't take any part in such a permission, as the MacSkelpie was his niece. He is a rude old man, that. I remember when, not remembering his relationship, I spoke of the MacSkelpie, he caught me a clip on the ear that sent me across the room. His Scotch is very broad. I can hear him say, "Hae some attempt at even Soothern manners, and dinna misca' yer betters, ye young puddock, or I'll wring yer snoot!" Father was, I could see, very much offended, but he didn't say anything. He remembered, I think, that the General is a V.C. man, and was fond of fighting duels. But to show that the fault was not his, _he_ wrung _my_ ear--and the same ear too! I suppose he thought that was justice! But it's only right to say that he made up for it afterwards. When the General had gone he gave me a five-pound note. I don't think Uncle Roger was very pleased with the way Rupert behaved about the legacy, for I don't think he ever saw him from that day to this. Perhaps, of course, it was because Rupert ran away shortly afterwards; but I shall tell about that when I come to him. After all, why should my uncle bother about him? He is not a Melton at all, and I am to be Head of the House--of course, when the Lord thinks right to take father to Himself! Uncle Roger has tons of money, and he never married, so if he wants to leave it in the right direction he needn't have any trouble. He made his money in what he calls "the Eastern Trade." This, so far as I can gather, takes in the Levant and all east of it. I know he has what they call in trade "houses" in all sorts of places--Turkey, and Greece, and all round them, Morocco, Egypt, and Southern Russia, and the Holy Land; then on to Persia, India, and all round it; the Chersonese, China, Japan, and the Pacific Islands. It is not to be expected that we landowners can know much about trade, but my uncle covers--or alas! I must say "covered"--a lot of ground, I can tell you. Uncle Roger was a very grim sort of man, and only that I was brought up to try and be kind to him I shouldn't ever have dared to speak to him. But when was a child father and mother--especially mother--forced me to go and see him and be affectionate to him. He wasn't ever even civil to me, that I can remember--grumpy old bear! But, then, he never saw Rupert at all, so that I take it Master R--- is out of the running altogether for testamentary honours. The last time I saw him myself he was distinctly rude. He treated me as a boy, though I was getting on for eighteen years of age. I came into his office without knocking; and without looking up from his desk, where he was writing, he said: "Get out! Why do you venture to disturb me when I'm busy? Get out, and be damned to you!" I waited where I was, ready to transfix him with my eye when he should look up, for I cannot forget that when my father dies I shall be Head of my House. But when he did there was no transfixing possible. He said quite coolly: "Oh, it's you, is it? I thought it was one of my office boys. Sit down, if you want to see me, and wait till I am ready." So I sat down and waited. Father always said that I should try to conciliate and please my uncle. Father is a very shrewd man, and Uncle Roger is a very rich one. But I don't think Uncle R--- is as shrewd as he thinks he is. He sometimes makes awful mistakes in business. For instance, some years ago he bought an enormous estate on the Adriatic, in the country they call the "Land of Blue Mountains." At least, he says he bought it. He told father so in confidence. But he didn't show any title-deeds, and I'm greatly afraid he was "had." A bad job for me that he was, for father believes he paid an enormous sum for it, and as I am his natural heir, it reduces his available estate to so much less. And now about Rupert. As I have said, he ran away when he was about fourteen, and we did not hear about him for years. When we--or, rather, my father--did hear of him, it was no good that he heard. He had gone as a cabin-boy on a sailing ship round the Horn. Then he joined an exploring party through the centre of Patagonia, and then another up in Alaska, and a third to the Aleutian Islands. After that he went through Central America, and then to Western Africa, the Pacific Islands, India, and a lot of places. We all know the wisdom of the adage that "A rolling stone gathers no moss"; and certainly, if there be any value in moss, Cousin Rupert will die a poor man. Indeed, nothing will stand his idiotic, boastful wastefulness. Look at the way in which, when he came of age, he made over all his mother's little fortune to the MacSkelpie! I am sure that, though Uncle Roger made no comment to my father, who, as Head of our House, should, of course, have been informed, he was not pleased. My mother, who has a good fortune in her own right, and has had the sense to keep it in her own control--as I am to inherit it, and it is not in the entail, I am therefore quite impartial--I can approve of her spirited conduct in the matter. We never did think much of Rupert, anyhow; but now, since he is in the way to be a pauper, and therefore a dangerous nuisance, we look on him as quite an outsider. We know what he really is. For my own part, I loathe and despise him. Just now we are irritated with him, for we are all kept on tenterhooks regarding my dear Uncle Roger's Will. For Mr. Trent, the attorney who regulated my dear uncle's affairs and has possession of the Will, says it is necessary to know where every possible beneficiary is to be found before making the Will public, so we all have to wait. It is especially hard on me, who am the natural heir. It is very thoughtless indeed of Rupert to keep away like that. I wrote to old MacSkelpie about it, but he didn't seem to understand or to be at all anxious--he is not the heir! He said that probably Rupert Sent Leger--he, too, keeps to the old spelling--did not know of his uncle's death, or he would have taken steps to relieve our anxiety. Our anxiety, forsooth! We are not anxious; we only wish to _know_. And if we--and especially me--who have all the annoyance of thinking of the detestable and unfair death-duties, are anxious, we should be so. Well, anyhow, he'll get a properly bitter disappointment and set down when he does turn up and discovers that he is a pauper without hope! * * * * * To-day we (father and I) had letters from Mr. Trent, telling us that the whereabouts of "Mr. Rupert Sent Leger" had been discovered, and that a letter disclosing the fact of poor Uncle Roger's death had been sent to him. He was at Titicaca when last heard of. So goodness only knows when he may get the letter, which "asks him to come home at once, but only gives to him such information about the Will as has already been given to every member of the testator's family." And that is nil. I dare say we shall be kept waiting for months before we get hold of the estate which is ours. It is too bad! _Letter from Edward Bingham Trent to Ernest Roger Halbard Melton_. 176, LINCOLN'S INN FIELDS, _December_ 28, 1906. DEAR SIR, I am glad to be able to inform you that I have just heard by letter from Mr. Rupert St. Leger that he intended leaving Rio de Janeiro by the S.S. _Amazon_, of the Royal Mail Company, on December 15. He further stated that he would cable just before leaving Rio de Janeiro, to say on what day the ship was expected to arrive in London. As all the others possibly interested in the Will of the late Roger Melton, and whose names are given to me in his instructions regarding the reading of the Will, have been advised, and have expressed their intention of being present at that event on being apprised of the time and place, I now beg to inform you that by cable message received the date scheduled for arrival at the Port of London was January 1 prox. I therefore beg to notify you, subject to postponement due to the non-arrival of the _Amazon_, the reading of the Will of the late Roger Melton, Esq., will take place in my office on Thursday, January 3 prox., at eleven o'clock a.m. I have the honour to be, sir, Yours faithfully, EDWARD BINGHAM TRENT. TO ERNEST ROGER HALBARD MELTON, ESQ., HUMCROFT, SALOP. Cable: _Rupert Sent Leger to Edward Bingham Trent_. _Amazon_ arrives London January 1. SENT LEGER. _Telegram_ (_per Lloyd's_): _Rupert Sent Leger to Edward Bingham Trent_. THE LIZARD, _December_ 31. _Amazon_ arrives London to-morrow morning. All well.--LEGER. _Telegram_: _Edward Bingham Trent to Ernest Roger Halbard Mellon_. Rupert Sent Leger arrived. Reading Will takes place as arranged.--TRENT. ERNEST ROGER HALBARD MELTON'S RECORD. _January_ 4, 1907. The reading of Uncle Roger's Will is over. Father got a duplicate of Mr. Trent's letter to me, and of the cable and two telegrams pasted into this Record. We both waited patiently till the third--that is, we did not say anything. The only impatient member of our family was my mother. She _did_ say things, and if old Trent had been here his ears would have been red. She said what ridiculous nonsense it was delaying the reading of the Will, and keeping the Heir waiting for the arrival of an obscure person who wasn't even a member of the family, inasmuch as he didn't bear the name. I don't think it's quite respectful to one who is some day to be Head of the House! I thought father was weakening in his patience when he said: "True, my dear--true!" and got up and left the room. Some time afterwards when I passed the library I heard him walking up and down. Father and I went up to town on the afternoon of Wednesday, January 2. We stayed, of course, at Claridge's, where we always stay when we go to town. Mother wanted to come, too, but father thought it better not. She would not agree to stay at home till we both promised to send her separate telegrams after the reading. At five minutes to eleven we entered Mr. Trent's office. Father would not go a moment earlier, as he said it was bad form to seem eager at any time, but most of all at the reading of a will. It was a rotten grind, for we had to be walking all over the neighbourhood for half an hour before it was time, not to be too early. When we went into the room we found there General Sir Colin MacKelpie and a big man, very bronzed, whom I took to be Rupert St. Leger--not a very creditable connection to look at, I thought! He and old MacKelpie took care to be in time! Rather low, I thought it. Mr. St. Leger was reading a letter. He had evidently come in but lately, for though he seemed to be eager about it, he was only at the first page, and I could see that there were many sheets. He did not look up when we came in, or till he had finished the letter; and you may be sure that neither I nor my father (who, as Head of the House, should have had more respect from him) took the trouble to go to him. After all, he is a pauper and a wastrel, and he has not the honour of bearing our Name. The General, however, came forward and greeted us both cordially. He evidently had forgotten--or pretended to have--the discourteous way he once treated me, for he spoke to me quite in a friendly way--I thought more warmly than he did to father. I was pleased to be spoken to so nicely, for, after all, whatever his manners may be, he is a distinguished man--has won the V.C. and a Baronetcy. He got the latter not long ago, after the Frontier War in India. I was not, however, led away into cordiality myself. I had not forgotten his rudeness, and I thought that he might be sucking up to me. I knew that when I had my dear Uncle Roger's many millions I should be a rather important person; and, of course, he knew it too. So I got even with him for his former impudence. When he held out his hand I put one finger in it, and said, "How do?" He got very red and turned away. Father and he had ended by glaring at each other, so neither of us was sorry to be done with him. All the time Mr. St. Leger did not seem to see or hear anything, but went on reading his letter. I thought the old MacSkelpie was going to bring him into the matter between us, for as he turned away I heard him say something under his breath. It sounded like "Help!" but Mr. S--- did not hear. He certainly no notice of it. As the MacS--- and Mr. S--- sat quite silent, neither looking at us, and as father was sitting on the other side of the room with his chin in his hand, and as I wanted to show that I was indifferent to the two S's, I took out this notebook, and went on with the Record, bringing it up to this moment. THE RECORD--_Continued_. When I had finished writing I looked over at Rupert. When he saw us, he jumped up and went over to father and shook his hand quite warmly. Father took him very coolly. Rupert, however, did not seem to see it, but came towards me heartily. I happened to be doing something else at the moment, and at first I did not see his hand; but just as I was looking at it the clock struck eleven. Whilst it was striking Mr. Trent came into the room. Close behind him came his clerk, carrying a locked tin box. There were two other men also. He bowed to us all in turn, beginning with me. I was standing opposite the door; the others were scattered about. Father sat still, but Sir Colin and Mr. St. Leger rose. Mr. Trent not did shake hands with any of us--not even me. Nothing but his respectful bow. That is the etiquette for an attorney, I understand, on such formal occasions. He sat down at the end of the big table in the centre of the room, and asked us to sit round. Father, of course, as Head of the Family, took the seat at his right hand. Sir Colin and St. Leger went to the other side, the former taking the seat next to the attorney. The General knows, of course, that a Baronet takes precedence at a ceremony. I may be a Baronet some day myself, and have to know these things. The clerk took the key which his master handed to him, opened the tin box, and took from it a bundle of papers tied with red tape. This he placed before the attorney, and put the empty box behind him on the floor. Then he and the other man sat at the far end of the table; the latter took out a big notebook and several pencils, and put them before him. He was evidently a shorthand-writer. Mr. Trent removed the tape from the bundle of papers, which he placed a little distance in front of him. He took a sealed envelope from the top, broke the seal, opened the envelope, and from it took a parchment, in the folds of which were some sealed envelopes, which he laid in a heap in front of the other paper. Then he unfolded the parchment, and laid it before him with the outside page up. He fixed his glasses, and said: "Gentlemen, the sealed envelope which you have seen me open is endorsed 'My Last Will and Testament--ROGER MELTON, _June_, 1906.' This document"--holding it up--"is as follows: "'I Roger Melton of Openshaw Grange in the County of Dorset; of number one hundred and twenty-three Berkeley Square London; and of the Castle of Vissarion in the Land of the Blue Mountains, being of sound mind do make this my Last Will and Testament on this day Monday the eleventh day of the month of June in the year of Our Lord one thousand nine hundred and six at the office of my old friend and Attorney Edward Bingham Trent in number one hundred and seventy-six Lincoln's Inn Fields London hereby revoking all other wills that I may have formerly made and giving this as my sole and last Will making dispositions of my property as follows: "'1. To my kinsman and nephew Ernest Halbard Melton Esquire, justice of the Peace, Humcroft the County of Salop, for his sole use and benefit the sum of twenty thousand pounds sterling free of all Duties Taxes and charges whatever to be paid out of my Five per centum Bonds of the City of Montreal, Canada. "'2. To my respected friend and colleague as co-trustee to the Will of my late sister Patience late widow of the late Captain Rupert Sent Leger who predeceased her, Major-General Sir Colin Alexander MacKelpie, Baronet, holder of the Victoria Cross, Knight Commander of the Order of the Bath, of Croom in the county of Ross Scotland a sum of Twenty thousand pounds sterling free of all Taxes and charges whatsoever; to be paid out of my Five per centum Bonds of the City of Toronto, Canada. "'3. To Miss Janet MacKelpie presently residing at Croom in the County of Ross Scotland the sum of Twenty thousand pounds sterling free of all Duties Taxes and Charges whatsoever, to be paid out of my Five per centum Bonds of the London County Council. "'4. To the various persons charities and Trustees named in the schedule attached to this Will and marked A. the various sums mentioned therein, all free of Duties and Taxes and charges whatsoever.'" Here Mr. Trent read out the list here following, and announced for our immediate understanding of the situation the total amount as two hundred and fifty thousand pounds. Many of the beneficiaries were old friends, comrades, dependents, and servants, some of them being left

from

How many times the word 'from' appears in the text?

you; and if the sword of an old soldier--it is all I have--can ever serve you in any way, it and its master's life are, and shall be, whilst life remains to him, yours. It grieves me to think that Janet cannot, through my act, be given that ease and tranquillity of spirit which come from competence. But, my dear Rupert, you will be of full age in seven years more. Then, if you are in the same mind--and I am sure you will not change--you, being your own master, can do freely as you will. In the meantime, to secure, so far as I can, my dear Janet against any malign stroke of fortune, I have given orders to my factor to remit semi-annually to Janet one full half of such income as may be derived in any form from my estate of Croom. It is, I am sorry to say, heavily mortgaged; but of such as is--or may be, free from such charge as the mortgage entails--something at least will, I trust, remain to her. And, my dear boy, I can frankly say that it is to me a real pleasure that you and I can be linked in one more bond in this association of purpose. I have always held you in my heart as though you were my own son. Let me tell you now that you have acted as I should have liked a son of my own, had I been blessed with one, to have acted. God bless you, my dear. Yours ever, COLIN ALEX. MACKELPIE. _Letter from Roger Melton_, _of Openshaw Grange_, _to Rupert Sent Leger_, _Esq._, 14, _Newland Park_, _Dulwich_, _London_, _S.E._ _July_ 1, 1892. MY DEAR NEPHEW, Your letter of the 30th ult. received. Have carefully considered matter stated, and have come to the conclusion that my duty as a trustee would not allow me to give full consent, as you wish. Let me explain. The testator, in making her will, intended that such fortune as she had at disposal should be used to supply to you her son such benefits as its annual product should procure. To this end, and to provide against wastefulness or foolishness on your part, or, indeed, against any generosity, howsoever worthy, which might impoverish you and so defeat her benevolent intentions regarding your education, comfort, and future good, she did not place the estate directly in your hands, leaving you to do as you might feel inclined about it. But, on the contrary, she entrusted the corpus of it in the hands of men whom she believed should be resolute enough and strong enough to carry out her intent, even against any cajolements or pressure which might be employed to the contrary. It being her intention, then, that such trustees as she appointed would use for your benefit the interest accruing annually from the capital at command, _and that only_ (as specifically directed in the will), so that on your arriving at full age the capital entrusted to us should be handed over to you intact, I find a hard-and-fast duty in the matter of adhering exactly to the directions given. I have no doubt that my co-trustees regard the matter in exactly the same light. Under the circumstances, therefore, we, the trustees, have not only a single and united duty towards you as the object of the testator's wishes, but towards each other as regards the manner of the carrying out of that duty. I take it, therefore, that it would not be consonant with the spirit of the trust or of our own ideas in accepting it that any of us should take a course pleasant to himself which would or might involve a stern opposition on the part of other of the co-trustees. We have each of us to do the unpleasant part of this duty without fear or favour. You understand, of course, that the time which must elapse before you come into absolute possession of your estate is a limited one. As by the terms of the will we are to hand over our trust when you have reached the age of twenty-one, there are only seven years to expire. But till then, though I should gladly meet your wishes if I could, I must adhere to the duty which I have undertaken. At the expiration of that period you will be quite free to divest yourself of your estate without protest or comment of any man. Having now expressed as clearly as I can the limitations by which I am bound with regard to the corpus of your estate, let me say that in any other way which is in my power or discretion I shall be most happy to see your wishes carried out so far as rests with me. Indeed, I shall undertake to use what influence I may possess with my co-trustees to induce them to take a similar view of your wishes. In my own thinking you are quite free to use your own property in your own way. But as, until you shall have attained your majority, you have only life-user in your mother's bequest, you are only at liberty to deal with the annual increment. On our part as trustees we have a first charge on that increment to be used for purposes of your maintenance, clothes, and education. As to what may remain over each half-year, you will be free to deal with it as you choose. On receiving from you a written authorization to your trustees, if you desire the whole sum or any part of it to be paid over to Miss Janet MacKelpie, I shall see that it is effected. Believe me, that our duty is to protect the corpus of the estate, and to this end we may not act on any instruction to imperil it. But there our warranty stops. We can deal during our trusteeship with the corpus only. Further, lest there should arise any error on your part, we can deal with any general instruction for only so long as it may remain unrevoked. You are, and must be, free to alter your instructions or authorizations at any time. Thus your latest document must be used for our guidance. As to the general principle involved in your wish I make no comment. You are at liberty to deal with your own how you will. I quite understand that your impulse is a generous one, and I fully believe that it is in consonance with what had always been the wishes of my sister. Had she been happily alive and had to give judgment of your intent, I am convinced that she would have approved. Therefore, my dear nephew, should you so wish, I shall be happy for her sake as well as your own to pay over on your account (as a confidential matter between you and me), but from my own pocket, a sum equal to that which you wish transferred to Miss Janet MacKelpie. On hearing from you I shall know how to act in the matter. With all good wishes, Believe me to be, Your affectionate uncle, ROGER MELTON. TO RUPERT SENT LEGER, ESQ. _Letter from Rupert Sent Leger to Roger Melton_, _July_ 5, 1892. MY DEAR UNCLE, Thank you heartily for your kind letter. I quite understand, and now see that I should not have asked you as a trustee, such a thing. I see your duty clearly, and agree with your view of it. I enclose a letter directed to my trustees, asking them to pay over annually till further direction to Miss Janet MacKelpie at this address whatever sum may remain over from the interest of my mother's bequest after deduction of such expenses as you may deem fit for my maintenance, clothing, and education, together with a sum of one pound sterling per month, which was the amount my dear mother always gave me for my personal use--"pocket-money," she called it. With regard to your most kind and generous offer to give to my dear Aunt Janet the sum which I would have given myself, had such been in my power, I thank you most truly and sincerely, both for my dear aunt (to whom, of course, I shall not mention the matter unless you specially authorize me) and myself. But, indeed, I think it will be better not to offer it. Aunt Janet is very proud, and would not accept any benefit. With me, of course, it is different, for since I was a wee child she has been like another mother to me, and I love her very much. Since my mother died--and she, of course, was all-in-all to me--there has been no other. And in such a love as ours pride has no place. Thank you again, dear uncle, and God bless you. Your loving nephew, RUPERT SENT LEGER. ERNEST ROGER HALBARD MELTON'S RECORD--_Continued_. And now _re_ the remaining one of Sir Geoffrey's children, Roger. He was the third child and third son, the only daughter, Patience, having been born twenty years after the last of the four sons. Concerning Roger, I shall put down all I have heard of him from my father and grandfather. From my grand-aunt I heard nothing, I was a very small kid when she died; but I remember seeing her, but only once. A very tall, handsome woman of a little over thirty, with very dark hair and light-coloured eyes. I think they were either grey or blue, but I can't remember which. She looked very proud and haughty, but I am bound to say that she was very nice to me. I remember feeling very jealous of Rupert because his mother looked so distinguished. Rupert was eight years older than me, and I was afraid he would beat me if I said anything he did not like. So I was silent except when I forgot to be, and Rupert said very unkindly, and I think very unfairly, that I was "A sulky little beast." I haven't forgot that, and I don't mean to. However, it doesn't matter much what he said or thought. There he is--if he is at all--where no one can find him, with no money or nothing, for what little he had he settled when he came of age, on the MacSkelpie. He wanted to give it to her when his mother died, but father, who was a trustee, refused; and Uncle Roger, as I call him, who is another, thought the trustees had no power to allow Rupert to throw away his matrimony, as I called it, making a joke to father when he called it patrimony. Old Sir Colin MacSkelpie, who is the third, said he couldn't take any part in such a permission, as the MacSkelpie was his niece. He is a rude old man, that. I remember when, not remembering his relationship, I spoke of the MacSkelpie, he caught me a clip on the ear that sent me across the room. His Scotch is very broad. I can hear him say, "Hae some attempt at even Soothern manners, and dinna misca' yer betters, ye young puddock, or I'll wring yer snoot!" Father was, I could see, very much offended, but he didn't say anything. He remembered, I think, that the General is a V.C. man, and was fond of fighting duels. But to show that the fault was not his, _he_ wrung _my_ ear--and the same ear too! I suppose he thought that was justice! But it's only right to say that he made up for it afterwards. When the General had gone he gave me a five-pound note. I don't think Uncle Roger was very pleased with the way Rupert behaved about the legacy, for I don't think he ever saw him from that day to this. Perhaps, of course, it was because Rupert ran away shortly afterwards; but I shall tell about that when I come to him. After all, why should my uncle bother about him? He is not a Melton at all, and I am to be Head of the House--of course, when the Lord thinks right to take father to Himself! Uncle Roger has tons of money, and he never married, so if he wants to leave it in the right direction he needn't have any trouble. He made his money in what he calls "the Eastern Trade." This, so far as I can gather, takes in the Levant and all east of it. I know he has what they call in trade "houses" in all sorts of places--Turkey, and Greece, and all round them, Morocco, Egypt, and Southern Russia, and the Holy Land; then on to Persia, India, and all round it; the Chersonese, China, Japan, and the Pacific Islands. It is not to be expected that we landowners can know much about trade, but my uncle covers--or alas! I must say "covered"--a lot of ground, I can tell you. Uncle Roger was a very grim sort of man, and only that I was brought up to try and be kind to him I shouldn't ever have dared to speak to him. But when was a child father and mother--especially mother--forced me to go and see him and be affectionate to him. He wasn't ever even civil to me, that I can remember--grumpy old bear! But, then, he never saw Rupert at all, so that I take it Master R--- is out of the running altogether for testamentary honours. The last time I saw him myself he was distinctly rude. He treated me as a boy, though I was getting on for eighteen years of age. I came into his office without knocking; and without looking up from his desk, where he was writing, he said: "Get out! Why do you venture to disturb me when I'm busy? Get out, and be damned to you!" I waited where I was, ready to transfix him with my eye when he should look up, for I cannot forget that when my father dies I shall be Head of my House. But when he did there was no transfixing possible. He said quite coolly: "Oh, it's you, is it? I thought it was one of my office boys. Sit down, if you want to see me, and wait till I am ready." So I sat down and waited. Father always said that I should try to conciliate and please my uncle. Father is a very shrewd man, and Uncle Roger is a very rich one. But I don't think Uncle R--- is as shrewd as he thinks he is. He sometimes makes awful mistakes in business. For instance, some years ago he bought an enormous estate on the Adriatic, in the country they call the "Land of Blue Mountains." At least, he says he bought it. He told father so in confidence. But he didn't show any title-deeds, and I'm greatly afraid he was "had." A bad job for me that he was, for father believes he paid an enormous sum for it, and as I am his natural heir, it reduces his available estate to so much less. And now about Rupert. As I have said, he ran away when he was about fourteen, and we did not hear about him for years. When we--or, rather, my father--did hear of him, it was no good that he heard. He had gone as a cabin-boy on a sailing ship round the Horn. Then he joined an exploring party through the centre of Patagonia, and then another up in Alaska, and a third to the Aleutian Islands. After that he went through Central America, and then to Western Africa, the Pacific Islands, India, and a lot of places. We all know the wisdom of the adage that "A rolling stone gathers no moss"; and certainly, if there be any value in moss, Cousin Rupert will die a poor man. Indeed, nothing will stand his idiotic, boastful wastefulness. Look at the way in which, when he came of age, he made over all his mother's little fortune to the MacSkelpie! I am sure that, though Uncle Roger made no comment to my father, who, as Head of our House, should, of course, have been informed, he was not pleased. My mother, who has a good fortune in her own right, and has had the sense to keep it in her own control--as I am to inherit it, and it is not in the entail, I am therefore quite impartial--I can approve of her spirited conduct in the matter. We never did think much of Rupert, anyhow; but now, since he is in the way to be a pauper, and therefore a dangerous nuisance, we look on him as quite an outsider. We know what he really is. For my own part, I loathe and despise him. Just now we are irritated with him, for we are all kept on tenterhooks regarding my dear Uncle Roger's Will. For Mr. Trent, the attorney who regulated my dear uncle's affairs and has possession of the Will, says it is necessary to know where every possible beneficiary is to be found before making the Will public, so we all have to wait. It is especially hard on me, who am the natural heir. It is very thoughtless indeed of Rupert to keep away like that. I wrote to old MacSkelpie about it, but he didn't seem to understand or to be at all anxious--he is not the heir! He said that probably Rupert Sent Leger--he, too, keeps to the old spelling--did not know of his uncle's death, or he would have taken steps to relieve our anxiety. Our anxiety, forsooth! We are not anxious; we only wish to _know_. And if we--and especially me--who have all the annoyance of thinking of the detestable and unfair death-duties, are anxious, we should be so. Well, anyhow, he'll get a properly bitter disappointment and set down when he does turn up and discovers that he is a pauper without hope! * * * * * To-day we (father and I) had letters from Mr. Trent, telling us that the whereabouts of "Mr. Rupert Sent Leger" had been discovered, and that a letter disclosing the fact of poor Uncle Roger's death had been sent to him. He was at Titicaca when last heard of. So goodness only knows when he may get the letter, which "asks him to come home at once, but only gives to him such information about the Will as has already been given to every member of the testator's family." And that is nil. I dare say we shall be kept waiting for months before we get hold of the estate which is ours. It is too bad! _Letter from Edward Bingham Trent to Ernest Roger Halbard Melton_. 176, LINCOLN'S INN FIELDS, _December_ 28, 1906. DEAR SIR, I am glad to be able to inform you that I have just heard by letter from Mr. Rupert St. Leger that he intended leaving Rio de Janeiro by the S.S. _Amazon_, of the Royal Mail Company, on December 15. He further stated that he would cable just before leaving Rio de Janeiro, to say on what day the ship was expected to arrive in London. As all the others possibly interested in the Will of the late Roger Melton, and whose names are given to me in his instructions regarding the reading of the Will, have been advised, and have expressed their intention of being present at that event on being apprised of the time and place, I now beg to inform you that by cable message received the date scheduled for arrival at the Port of London was January 1 prox. I therefore beg to notify you, subject to postponement due to the non-arrival of the _Amazon_, the reading of the Will of the late Roger Melton, Esq., will take place in my office on Thursday, January 3 prox., at eleven o'clock a.m. I have the honour to be, sir, Yours faithfully, EDWARD BINGHAM TRENT. TO ERNEST ROGER HALBARD MELTON, ESQ., HUMCROFT, SALOP. Cable: _Rupert Sent Leger to Edward Bingham Trent_. _Amazon_ arrives London January 1. SENT LEGER. _Telegram_ (_per Lloyd's_): _Rupert Sent Leger to Edward Bingham Trent_. THE LIZARD, _December_ 31. _Amazon_ arrives London to-morrow morning. All well.--LEGER. _Telegram_: _Edward Bingham Trent to Ernest Roger Halbard Mellon_. Rupert Sent Leger arrived. Reading Will takes place as arranged.--TRENT. ERNEST ROGER HALBARD MELTON'S RECORD. _January_ 4, 1907. The reading of Uncle Roger's Will is over. Father got a duplicate of Mr. Trent's letter to me, and of the cable and two telegrams pasted into this Record. We both waited patiently till the third--that is, we did not say anything. The only impatient member of our family was my mother. She _did_ say things, and if old Trent had been here his ears would have been red. She said what ridiculous nonsense it was delaying the reading of the Will, and keeping the Heir waiting for the arrival of an obscure person who wasn't even a member of the family, inasmuch as he didn't bear the name. I don't think it's quite respectful to one who is some day to be Head of the House! I thought father was weakening in his patience when he said: "True, my dear--true!" and got up and left the room. Some time afterwards when I passed the library I heard him walking up and down. Father and I went up to town on the afternoon of Wednesday, January 2. We stayed, of course, at Claridge's, where we always stay when we go to town. Mother wanted to come, too, but father thought it better not. She would not agree to stay at home till we both promised to send her separate telegrams after the reading. At five minutes to eleven we entered Mr. Trent's office. Father would not go a moment earlier, as he said it was bad form to seem eager at any time, but most of all at the reading of a will. It was a rotten grind, for we had to be walking all over the neighbourhood for half an hour before it was time, not to be too early. When we went into the room we found there General Sir Colin MacKelpie and a big man, very bronzed, whom I took to be Rupert St. Leger--not a very creditable connection to look at, I thought! He and old MacKelpie took care to be in time! Rather low, I thought it. Mr. St. Leger was reading a letter. He had evidently come in but lately, for though he seemed to be eager about it, he was only at the first page, and I could see that there were many sheets. He did not look up when we came in, or till he had finished the letter; and you may be sure that neither I nor my father (who, as Head of the House, should have had more respect from him) took the trouble to go to him. After all, he is a pauper and a wastrel, and he has not the honour of bearing our Name. The General, however, came forward and greeted us both cordially. He evidently had forgotten--or pretended to have--the discourteous way he once treated me, for he spoke to me quite in a friendly way--I thought more warmly than he did to father. I was pleased to be spoken to so nicely, for, after all, whatever his manners may be, he is a distinguished man--has won the V.C. and a Baronetcy. He got the latter not long ago, after the Frontier War in India. I was not, however, led away into cordiality myself. I had not forgotten his rudeness, and I thought that he might be sucking up to me. I knew that when I had my dear Uncle Roger's many millions I should be a rather important person; and, of course, he knew it too. So I got even with him for his former impudence. When he held out his hand I put one finger in it, and said, "How do?" He got very red and turned away. Father and he had ended by glaring at each other, so neither of us was sorry to be done with him. All the time Mr. St. Leger did not seem to see or hear anything, but went on reading his letter. I thought the old MacSkelpie was going to bring him into the matter between us, for as he turned away I heard him say something under his breath. It sounded like "Help!" but Mr. S--- did not hear. He certainly no notice of it. As the MacS--- and Mr. S--- sat quite silent, neither looking at us, and as father was sitting on the other side of the room with his chin in his hand, and as I wanted to show that I was indifferent to the two S's, I took out this notebook, and went on with the Record, bringing it up to this moment. THE RECORD--_Continued_. When I had finished writing I looked over at Rupert. When he saw us, he jumped up and went over to father and shook his hand quite warmly. Father took him very coolly. Rupert, however, did not seem to see it, but came towards me heartily. I happened to be doing something else at the moment, and at first I did not see his hand; but just as I was looking at it the clock struck eleven. Whilst it was striking Mr. Trent came into the room. Close behind him came his clerk, carrying a locked tin box. There were two other men also. He bowed to us all in turn, beginning with me. I was standing opposite the door; the others were scattered about. Father sat still, but Sir Colin and Mr. St. Leger rose. Mr. Trent not did shake hands with any of us--not even me. Nothing but his respectful bow. That is the etiquette for an attorney, I understand, on such formal occasions. He sat down at the end of the big table in the centre of the room, and asked us to sit round. Father, of course, as Head of the Family, took the seat at his right hand. Sir Colin and St. Leger went to the other side, the former taking the seat next to the attorney. The General knows, of course, that a Baronet takes precedence at a ceremony. I may be a Baronet some day myself, and have to know these things. The clerk took the key which his master handed to him, opened the tin box, and took from it a bundle of papers tied with red tape. This he placed before the attorney, and put the empty box behind him on the floor. Then he and the other man sat at the far end of the table; the latter took out a big notebook and several pencils, and put them before him. He was evidently a shorthand-writer. Mr. Trent removed the tape from the bundle of papers, which he placed a little distance in front of him. He took a sealed envelope from the top, broke the seal, opened the envelope, and from it took a parchment, in the folds of which were some sealed envelopes, which he laid in a heap in front of the other paper. Then he unfolded the parchment, and laid it before him with the outside page up. He fixed his glasses, and said: "Gentlemen, the sealed envelope which you have seen me open is endorsed 'My Last Will and Testament--ROGER MELTON, _June_, 1906.' This document"--holding it up--"is as follows: "'I Roger Melton of Openshaw Grange in the County of Dorset; of number one hundred and twenty-three Berkeley Square London; and of the Castle of Vissarion in the Land of the Blue Mountains, being of sound mind do make this my Last Will and Testament on this day Monday the eleventh day of the month of June in the year of Our Lord one thousand nine hundred and six at the office of my old friend and Attorney Edward Bingham Trent in number one hundred and seventy-six Lincoln's Inn Fields London hereby revoking all other wills that I may have formerly made and giving this as my sole and last Will making dispositions of my property as follows: "'1. To my kinsman and nephew Ernest Halbard Melton Esquire, justice of the Peace, Humcroft the County of Salop, for his sole use and benefit the sum of twenty thousand pounds sterling free of all Duties Taxes and charges whatever to be paid out of my Five per centum Bonds of the City of Montreal, Canada. "'2. To my respected friend and colleague as co-trustee to the Will of my late sister Patience late widow of the late Captain Rupert Sent Leger who predeceased her, Major-General Sir Colin Alexander MacKelpie, Baronet, holder of the Victoria Cross, Knight Commander of the Order of the Bath, of Croom in the county of Ross Scotland a sum of Twenty thousand pounds sterling free of all Taxes and charges whatsoever; to be paid out of my Five per centum Bonds of the City of Toronto, Canada. "'3. To Miss Janet MacKelpie presently residing at Croom in the County of Ross Scotland the sum of Twenty thousand pounds sterling free of all Duties Taxes and Charges whatsoever, to be paid out of my Five per centum Bonds of the London County Council. "'4. To the various persons charities and Trustees named in the schedule attached to this Will and marked A. the various sums mentioned therein, all free of Duties and Taxes and charges whatsoever.'" Here Mr. Trent read out the list here following, and announced for our immediate understanding of the situation the total amount as two hundred and fifty thousand pounds. Many of the beneficiaries were old friends, comrades, dependents, and servants, some of them being left

annual

How many times the word 'annual' appears in the text?

you; and if the sword of an old soldier--it is all I have--can ever serve you in any way, it and its master's life are, and shall be, whilst life remains to him, yours. It grieves me to think that Janet cannot, through my act, be given that ease and tranquillity of spirit which come from competence. But, my dear Rupert, you will be of full age in seven years more. Then, if you are in the same mind--and I am sure you will not change--you, being your own master, can do freely as you will. In the meantime, to secure, so far as I can, my dear Janet against any malign stroke of fortune, I have given orders to my factor to remit semi-annually to Janet one full half of such income as may be derived in any form from my estate of Croom. It is, I am sorry to say, heavily mortgaged; but of such as is--or may be, free from such charge as the mortgage entails--something at least will, I trust, remain to her. And, my dear boy, I can frankly say that it is to me a real pleasure that you and I can be linked in one more bond in this association of purpose. I have always held you in my heart as though you were my own son. Let me tell you now that you have acted as I should have liked a son of my own, had I been blessed with one, to have acted. God bless you, my dear. Yours ever, COLIN ALEX. MACKELPIE. _Letter from Roger Melton_, _of Openshaw Grange_, _to Rupert Sent Leger_, _Esq._, 14, _Newland Park_, _Dulwich_, _London_, _S.E._ _July_ 1, 1892. MY DEAR NEPHEW, Your letter of the 30th ult. received. Have carefully considered matter stated, and have come to the conclusion that my duty as a trustee would not allow me to give full consent, as you wish. Let me explain. The testator, in making her will, intended that such fortune as she had at disposal should be used to supply to you her son such benefits as its annual product should procure. To this end, and to provide against wastefulness or foolishness on your part, or, indeed, against any generosity, howsoever worthy, which might impoverish you and so defeat her benevolent intentions regarding your education, comfort, and future good, she did not place the estate directly in your hands, leaving you to do as you might feel inclined about it. But, on the contrary, she entrusted the corpus of it in the hands of men whom she believed should be resolute enough and strong enough to carry out her intent, even against any cajolements or pressure which might be employed to the contrary. It being her intention, then, that such trustees as she appointed would use for your benefit the interest accruing annually from the capital at command, _and that only_ (as specifically directed in the will), so that on your arriving at full age the capital entrusted to us should be handed over to you intact, I find a hard-and-fast duty in the matter of adhering exactly to the directions given. I have no doubt that my co-trustees regard the matter in exactly the same light. Under the circumstances, therefore, we, the trustees, have not only a single and united duty towards you as the object of the testator's wishes, but towards each other as regards the manner of the carrying out of that duty. I take it, therefore, that it would not be consonant with the spirit of the trust or of our own ideas in accepting it that any of us should take a course pleasant to himself which would or might involve a stern opposition on the part of other of the co-trustees. We have each of us to do the unpleasant part of this duty without fear or favour. You understand, of course, that the time which must elapse before you come into absolute possession of your estate is a limited one. As by the terms of the will we are to hand over our trust when you have reached the age of twenty-one, there are only seven years to expire. But till then, though I should gladly meet your wishes if I could, I must adhere to the duty which I have undertaken. At the expiration of that period you will be quite free to divest yourself of your estate without protest or comment of any man. Having now expressed as clearly as I can the limitations by which I am bound with regard to the corpus of your estate, let me say that in any other way which is in my power or discretion I shall be most happy to see your wishes carried out so far as rests with me. Indeed, I shall undertake to use what influence I may possess with my co-trustees to induce them to take a similar view of your wishes. In my own thinking you are quite free to use your own property in your own way. But as, until you shall have attained your majority, you have only life-user in your mother's bequest, you are only at liberty to deal with the annual increment. On our part as trustees we have a first charge on that increment to be used for purposes of your maintenance, clothes, and education. As to what may remain over each half-year, you will be free to deal with it as you choose. On receiving from you a written authorization to your trustees, if you desire the whole sum or any part of it to be paid over to Miss Janet MacKelpie, I shall see that it is effected. Believe me, that our duty is to protect the corpus of the estate, and to this end we may not act on any instruction to imperil it. But there our warranty stops. We can deal during our trusteeship with the corpus only. Further, lest there should arise any error on your part, we can deal with any general instruction for only so long as it may remain unrevoked. You are, and must be, free to alter your instructions or authorizations at any time. Thus your latest document must be used for our guidance. As to the general principle involved in your wish I make no comment. You are at liberty to deal with your own how you will. I quite understand that your impulse is a generous one, and I fully believe that it is in consonance with what had always been the wishes of my sister. Had she been happily alive and had to give judgment of your intent, I am convinced that she would have approved. Therefore, my dear nephew, should you so wish, I shall be happy for her sake as well as your own to pay over on your account (as a confidential matter between you and me), but from my own pocket, a sum equal to that which you wish transferred to Miss Janet MacKelpie. On hearing from you I shall know how to act in the matter. With all good wishes, Believe me to be, Your affectionate uncle, ROGER MELTON. TO RUPERT SENT LEGER, ESQ. _Letter from Rupert Sent Leger to Roger Melton_, _July_ 5, 1892. MY DEAR UNCLE, Thank you heartily for your kind letter. I quite understand, and now see that I should not have asked you as a trustee, such a thing. I see your duty clearly, and agree with your view of it. I enclose a letter directed to my trustees, asking them to pay over annually till further direction to Miss Janet MacKelpie at this address whatever sum may remain over from the interest of my mother's bequest after deduction of such expenses as you may deem fit for my maintenance, clothing, and education, together with a sum of one pound sterling per month, which was the amount my dear mother always gave me for my personal use--"pocket-money," she called it. With regard to your most kind and generous offer to give to my dear Aunt Janet the sum which I would have given myself, had such been in my power, I thank you most truly and sincerely, both for my dear aunt (to whom, of course, I shall not mention the matter unless you specially authorize me) and myself. But, indeed, I think it will be better not to offer it. Aunt Janet is very proud, and would not accept any benefit. With me, of course, it is different, for since I was a wee child she has been like another mother to me, and I love her very much. Since my mother died--and she, of course, was all-in-all to me--there has been no other. And in such a love as ours pride has no place. Thank you again, dear uncle, and God bless you. Your loving nephew, RUPERT SENT LEGER. ERNEST ROGER HALBARD MELTON'S RECORD--_Continued_. And now _re_ the remaining one of Sir Geoffrey's children, Roger. He was the third child and third son, the only daughter, Patience, having been born twenty years after the last of the four sons. Concerning Roger, I shall put down all I have heard of him from my father and grandfather. From my grand-aunt I heard nothing, I was a very small kid when she died; but I remember seeing her, but only once. A very tall, handsome woman of a little over thirty, with very dark hair and light-coloured eyes. I think they were either grey or blue, but I can't remember which. She looked very proud and haughty, but I am bound to say that she was very nice to me. I remember feeling very jealous of Rupert because his mother looked so distinguished. Rupert was eight years older than me, and I was afraid he would beat me if I said anything he did not like. So I was silent except when I forgot to be, and Rupert said very unkindly, and I think very unfairly, that I was "A sulky little beast." I haven't forgot that, and I don't mean to. However, it doesn't matter much what he said or thought. There he is--if he is at all--where no one can find him, with no money or nothing, for what little he had he settled when he came of age, on the MacSkelpie. He wanted to give it to her when his mother died, but father, who was a trustee, refused; and Uncle Roger, as I call him, who is another, thought the trustees had no power to allow Rupert to throw away his matrimony, as I called it, making a joke to father when he called it patrimony. Old Sir Colin MacSkelpie, who is the third, said he couldn't take any part in such a permission, as the MacSkelpie was his niece. He is a rude old man, that. I remember when, not remembering his relationship, I spoke of the MacSkelpie, he caught me a clip on the ear that sent me across the room. His Scotch is very broad. I can hear him say, "Hae some attempt at even Soothern manners, and dinna misca' yer betters, ye young puddock, or I'll wring yer snoot!" Father was, I could see, very much offended, but he didn't say anything. He remembered, I think, that the General is a V.C. man, and was fond of fighting duels. But to show that the fault was not his, _he_ wrung _my_ ear--and the same ear too! I suppose he thought that was justice! But it's only right to say that he made up for it afterwards. When the General had gone he gave me a five-pound note. I don't think Uncle Roger was very pleased with the way Rupert behaved about the legacy, for I don't think he ever saw him from that day to this. Perhaps, of course, it was because Rupert ran away shortly afterwards; but I shall tell about that when I come to him. After all, why should my uncle bother about him? He is not a Melton at all, and I am to be Head of the House--of course, when the Lord thinks right to take father to Himself! Uncle Roger has tons of money, and he never married, so if he wants to leave it in the right direction he needn't have any trouble. He made his money in what he calls "the Eastern Trade." This, so far as I can gather, takes in the Levant and all east of it. I know he has what they call in trade "houses" in all sorts of places--Turkey, and Greece, and all round them, Morocco, Egypt, and Southern Russia, and the Holy Land; then on to Persia, India, and all round it; the Chersonese, China, Japan, and the Pacific Islands. It is not to be expected that we landowners can know much about trade, but my uncle covers--or alas! I must say "covered"--a lot of ground, I can tell you. Uncle Roger was a very grim sort of man, and only that I was brought up to try and be kind to him I shouldn't ever have dared to speak to him. But when was a child father and mother--especially mother--forced me to go and see him and be affectionate to him. He wasn't ever even civil to me, that I can remember--grumpy old bear! But, then, he never saw Rupert at all, so that I take it Master R--- is out of the running altogether for testamentary honours. The last time I saw him myself he was distinctly rude. He treated me as a boy, though I was getting on for eighteen years of age. I came into his office without knocking; and without looking up from his desk, where he was writing, he said: "Get out! Why do you venture to disturb me when I'm busy? Get out, and be damned to you!" I waited where I was, ready to transfix him with my eye when he should look up, for I cannot forget that when my father dies I shall be Head of my House. But when he did there was no transfixing possible. He said quite coolly: "Oh, it's you, is it? I thought it was one of my office boys. Sit down, if you want to see me, and wait till I am ready." So I sat down and waited. Father always said that I should try to conciliate and please my uncle. Father is a very shrewd man, and Uncle Roger is a very rich one. But I don't think Uncle R--- is as shrewd as he thinks he is. He sometimes makes awful mistakes in business. For instance, some years ago he bought an enormous estate on the Adriatic, in the country they call the "Land of Blue Mountains." At least, he says he bought it. He told father so in confidence. But he didn't show any title-deeds, and I'm greatly afraid he was "had." A bad job for me that he was, for father believes he paid an enormous sum for it, and as I am his natural heir, it reduces his available estate to so much less. And now about Rupert. As I have said, he ran away when he was about fourteen, and we did not hear about him for years. When we--or, rather, my father--did hear of him, it was no good that he heard. He had gone as a cabin-boy on a sailing ship round the Horn. Then he joined an exploring party through the centre of Patagonia, and then another up in Alaska, and a third to the Aleutian Islands. After that he went through Central America, and then to Western Africa, the Pacific Islands, India, and a lot of places. We all know the wisdom of the adage that "A rolling stone gathers no moss"; and certainly, if there be any value in moss, Cousin Rupert will die a poor man. Indeed, nothing will stand his idiotic, boastful wastefulness. Look at the way in which, when he came of age, he made over all his mother's little fortune to the MacSkelpie! I am sure that, though Uncle Roger made no comment to my father, who, as Head of our House, should, of course, have been informed, he was not pleased. My mother, who has a good fortune in her own right, and has had the sense to keep it in her own control--as I am to inherit it, and it is not in the entail, I am therefore quite impartial--I can approve of her spirited conduct in the matter. We never did think much of Rupert, anyhow; but now, since he is in the way to be a pauper, and therefore a dangerous nuisance, we look on him as quite an outsider. We know what he really is. For my own part, I loathe and despise him. Just now we are irritated with him, for we are all kept on tenterhooks regarding my dear Uncle Roger's Will. For Mr. Trent, the attorney who regulated my dear uncle's affairs and has possession of the Will, says it is necessary to know where every possible beneficiary is to be found before making the Will public, so we all have to wait. It is especially hard on me, who am the natural heir. It is very thoughtless indeed of Rupert to keep away like that. I wrote to old MacSkelpie about it, but he didn't seem to understand or to be at all anxious--he is not the heir! He said that probably Rupert Sent Leger--he, too, keeps to the old spelling--did not know of his uncle's death, or he would have taken steps to relieve our anxiety. Our anxiety, forsooth! We are not anxious; we only wish to _know_. And if we--and especially me--who have all the annoyance of thinking of the detestable and unfair death-duties, are anxious, we should be so. Well, anyhow, he'll get a properly bitter disappointment and set down when he does turn up and discovers that he is a pauper without hope! * * * * * To-day we (father and I) had letters from Mr. Trent, telling us that the whereabouts of "Mr. Rupert Sent Leger" had been discovered, and that a letter disclosing the fact of poor Uncle Roger's death had been sent to him. He was at Titicaca when last heard of. So goodness only knows when he may get the letter, which "asks him to come home at once, but only gives to him such information about the Will as has already been given to every member of the testator's family." And that is nil. I dare say we shall be kept waiting for months before we get hold of the estate which is ours. It is too bad! _Letter from Edward Bingham Trent to Ernest Roger Halbard Melton_. 176, LINCOLN'S INN FIELDS, _December_ 28, 1906. DEAR SIR, I am glad to be able to inform you that I have just heard by letter from Mr. Rupert St. Leger that he intended leaving Rio de Janeiro by the S.S. _Amazon_, of the Royal Mail Company, on December 15. He further stated that he would cable just before leaving Rio de Janeiro, to say on what day the ship was expected to arrive in London. As all the others possibly interested in the Will of the late Roger Melton, and whose names are given to me in his instructions regarding the reading of the Will, have been advised, and have expressed their intention of being present at that event on being apprised of the time and place, I now beg to inform you that by cable message received the date scheduled for arrival at the Port of London was January 1 prox. I therefore beg to notify you, subject to postponement due to the non-arrival of the _Amazon_, the reading of the Will of the late Roger Melton, Esq., will take place in my office on Thursday, January 3 prox., at eleven o'clock a.m. I have the honour to be, sir, Yours faithfully, EDWARD BINGHAM TRENT. TO ERNEST ROGER HALBARD MELTON, ESQ., HUMCROFT, SALOP. Cable: _Rupert Sent Leger to Edward Bingham Trent_. _Amazon_ arrives London January 1. SENT LEGER. _Telegram_ (_per Lloyd's_): _Rupert Sent Leger to Edward Bingham Trent_. THE LIZARD, _December_ 31. _Amazon_ arrives London to-morrow morning. All well.--LEGER. _Telegram_: _Edward Bingham Trent to Ernest Roger Halbard Mellon_. Rupert Sent Leger arrived. Reading Will takes place as arranged.--TRENT. ERNEST ROGER HALBARD MELTON'S RECORD. _January_ 4, 1907. The reading of Uncle Roger's Will is over. Father got a duplicate of Mr. Trent's letter to me, and of the cable and two telegrams pasted into this Record. We both waited patiently till the third--that is, we did not say anything. The only impatient member of our family was my mother. She _did_ say things, and if old Trent had been here his ears would have been red. She said what ridiculous nonsense it was delaying the reading of the Will, and keeping the Heir waiting for the arrival of an obscure person who wasn't even a member of the family, inasmuch as he didn't bear the name. I don't think it's quite respectful to one who is some day to be Head of the House! I thought father was weakening in his patience when he said: "True, my dear--true!" and got up and left the room. Some time afterwards when I passed the library I heard him walking up and down. Father and I went up to town on the afternoon of Wednesday, January 2. We stayed, of course, at Claridge's, where we always stay when we go to town. Mother wanted to come, too, but father thought it better not. She would not agree to stay at home till we both promised to send her separate telegrams after the reading. At five minutes to eleven we entered Mr. Trent's office. Father would not go a moment earlier, as he said it was bad form to seem eager at any time, but most of all at the reading of a will. It was a rotten grind, for we had to be walking all over the neighbourhood for half an hour before it was time, not to be too early. When we went into the room we found there General Sir Colin MacKelpie and a big man, very bronzed, whom I took to be Rupert St. Leger--not a very creditable connection to look at, I thought! He and old MacKelpie took care to be in time! Rather low, I thought it. Mr. St. Leger was reading a letter. He had evidently come in but lately, for though he seemed to be eager about it, he was only at the first page, and I could see that there were many sheets. He did not look up when we came in, or till he had finished the letter; and you may be sure that neither I nor my father (who, as Head of the House, should have had more respect from him) took the trouble to go to him. After all, he is a pauper and a wastrel, and he has not the honour of bearing our Name. The General, however, came forward and greeted us both cordially. He evidently had forgotten--or pretended to have--the discourteous way he once treated me, for he spoke to me quite in a friendly way--I thought more warmly than he did to father. I was pleased to be spoken to so nicely, for, after all, whatever his manners may be, he is a distinguished man--has won the V.C. and a Baronetcy. He got the latter not long ago, after the Frontier War in India. I was not, however, led away into cordiality myself. I had not forgotten his rudeness, and I thought that he might be sucking up to me. I knew that when I had my dear Uncle Roger's many millions I should be a rather important person; and, of course, he knew it too. So I got even with him for his former impudence. When he held out his hand I put one finger in it, and said, "How do?" He got very red and turned away. Father and he had ended by glaring at each other, so neither of us was sorry to be done with him. All the time Mr. St. Leger did not seem to see or hear anything, but went on reading his letter. I thought the old MacSkelpie was going to bring him into the matter between us, for as he turned away I heard him say something under his breath. It sounded like "Help!" but Mr. S--- did not hear. He certainly no notice of it. As the MacS--- and Mr. S--- sat quite silent, neither looking at us, and as father was sitting on the other side of the room with his chin in his hand, and as I wanted to show that I was indifferent to the two S's, I took out this notebook, and went on with the Record, bringing it up to this moment. THE RECORD--_Continued_. When I had finished writing I looked over at Rupert. When he saw us, he jumped up and went over to father and shook his hand quite warmly. Father took him very coolly. Rupert, however, did not seem to see it, but came towards me heartily. I happened to be doing something else at the moment, and at first I did not see his hand; but just as I was looking at it the clock struck eleven. Whilst it was striking Mr. Trent came into the room. Close behind him came his clerk, carrying a locked tin box. There were two other men also. He bowed to us all in turn, beginning with me. I was standing opposite the door; the others were scattered about. Father sat still, but Sir Colin and Mr. St. Leger rose. Mr. Trent not did shake hands with any of us--not even me. Nothing but his respectful bow. That is the etiquette for an attorney, I understand, on such formal occasions. He sat down at the end of the big table in the centre of the room, and asked us to sit round. Father, of course, as Head of the Family, took the seat at his right hand. Sir Colin and St. Leger went to the other side, the former taking the seat next to the attorney. The General knows, of course, that a Baronet takes precedence at a ceremony. I may be a Baronet some day myself, and have to know these things. The clerk took the key which his master handed to him, opened the tin box, and took from it a bundle of papers tied with red tape. This he placed before the attorney, and put the empty box behind him on the floor. Then he and the other man sat at the far end of the table; the latter took out a big notebook and several pencils, and put them before him. He was evidently a shorthand-writer. Mr. Trent removed the tape from the bundle of papers, which he placed a little distance in front of him. He took a sealed envelope from the top, broke the seal, opened the envelope, and from it took a parchment, in the folds of which were some sealed envelopes, which he laid in a heap in front of the other paper. Then he unfolded the parchment, and laid it before him with the outside page up. He fixed his glasses, and said: "Gentlemen, the sealed envelope which you have seen me open is endorsed 'My Last Will and Testament--ROGER MELTON, _June_, 1906.' This document"--holding it up--"is as follows: "'I Roger Melton of Openshaw Grange in the County of Dorset; of number one hundred and twenty-three Berkeley Square London; and of the Castle of Vissarion in the Land of the Blue Mountains, being of sound mind do make this my Last Will and Testament on this day Monday the eleventh day of the month of June in the year of Our Lord one thousand nine hundred and six at the office of my old friend and Attorney Edward Bingham Trent in number one hundred and seventy-six Lincoln's Inn Fields London hereby revoking all other wills that I may have formerly made and giving this as my sole and last Will making dispositions of my property as follows: "'1. To my kinsman and nephew Ernest Halbard Melton Esquire, justice of the Peace, Humcroft the County of Salop, for his sole use and benefit the sum of twenty thousand pounds sterling free of all Duties Taxes and charges whatever to be paid out of my Five per centum Bonds of the City of Montreal, Canada. "'2. To my respected friend and colleague as co-trustee to the Will of my late sister Patience late widow of the late Captain Rupert Sent Leger who predeceased her, Major-General Sir Colin Alexander MacKelpie, Baronet, holder of the Victoria Cross, Knight Commander of the Order of the Bath, of Croom in the county of Ross Scotland a sum of Twenty thousand pounds sterling free of all Taxes and charges whatsoever; to be paid out of my Five per centum Bonds of the City of Toronto, Canada. "'3. To Miss Janet MacKelpie presently residing at Croom in the County of Ross Scotland the sum of Twenty thousand pounds sterling free of all Duties Taxes and Charges whatsoever, to be paid out of my Five per centum Bonds of the London County Council. "'4. To the various persons charities and Trustees named in the schedule attached to this Will and marked A. the various sums mentioned therein, all free of Duties and Taxes and charges whatsoever.'" Here Mr. Trent read out the list here following, and announced for our immediate understanding of the situation the total amount as two hundred and fifty thousand pounds. Many of the beneficiaries were old friends, comrades, dependents, and servants, some of them being left

brass

How many times the word 'brass' appears in the text?

you; and if the sword of an old soldier--it is all I have--can ever serve you in any way, it and its master's life are, and shall be, whilst life remains to him, yours. It grieves me to think that Janet cannot, through my act, be given that ease and tranquillity of spirit which come from competence. But, my dear Rupert, you will be of full age in seven years more. Then, if you are in the same mind--and I am sure you will not change--you, being your own master, can do freely as you will. In the meantime, to secure, so far as I can, my dear Janet against any malign stroke of fortune, I have given orders to my factor to remit semi-annually to Janet one full half of such income as may be derived in any form from my estate of Croom. It is, I am sorry to say, heavily mortgaged; but of such as is--or may be, free from such charge as the mortgage entails--something at least will, I trust, remain to her. And, my dear boy, I can frankly say that it is to me a real pleasure that you and I can be linked in one more bond in this association of purpose. I have always held you in my heart as though you were my own son. Let me tell you now that you have acted as I should have liked a son of my own, had I been blessed with one, to have acted. God bless you, my dear. Yours ever, COLIN ALEX. MACKELPIE. _Letter from Roger Melton_, _of Openshaw Grange_, _to Rupert Sent Leger_, _Esq._, 14, _Newland Park_, _Dulwich_, _London_, _S.E._ _July_ 1, 1892. MY DEAR NEPHEW, Your letter of the 30th ult. received. Have carefully considered matter stated, and have come to the conclusion that my duty as a trustee would not allow me to give full consent, as you wish. Let me explain. The testator, in making her will, intended that such fortune as she had at disposal should be used to supply to you her son such benefits as its annual product should procure. To this end, and to provide against wastefulness or foolishness on your part, or, indeed, against any generosity, howsoever worthy, which might impoverish you and so defeat her benevolent intentions regarding your education, comfort, and future good, she did not place the estate directly in your hands, leaving you to do as you might feel inclined about it. But, on the contrary, she entrusted the corpus of it in the hands of men whom she believed should be resolute enough and strong enough to carry out her intent, even against any cajolements or pressure which might be employed to the contrary. It being her intention, then, that such trustees as she appointed would use for your benefit the interest accruing annually from the capital at command, _and that only_ (as specifically directed in the will), so that on your arriving at full age the capital entrusted to us should be handed over to you intact, I find a hard-and-fast duty in the matter of adhering exactly to the directions given. I have no doubt that my co-trustees regard the matter in exactly the same light. Under the circumstances, therefore, we, the trustees, have not only a single and united duty towards you as the object of the testator's wishes, but towards each other as regards the manner of the carrying out of that duty. I take it, therefore, that it would not be consonant with the spirit of the trust or of our own ideas in accepting it that any of us should take a course pleasant to himself which would or might involve a stern opposition on the part of other of the co-trustees. We have each of us to do the unpleasant part of this duty without fear or favour. You understand, of course, that the time which must elapse before you come into absolute possession of your estate is a limited one. As by the terms of the will we are to hand over our trust when you have reached the age of twenty-one, there are only seven years to expire. But till then, though I should gladly meet your wishes if I could, I must adhere to the duty which I have undertaken. At the expiration of that period you will be quite free to divest yourself of your estate without protest or comment of any man. Having now expressed as clearly as I can the limitations by which I am bound with regard to the corpus of your estate, let me say that in any other way which is in my power or discretion I shall be most happy to see your wishes carried out so far as rests with me. Indeed, I shall undertake to use what influence I may possess with my co-trustees to induce them to take a similar view of your wishes. In my own thinking you are quite free to use your own property in your own way. But as, until you shall have attained your majority, you have only life-user in your mother's bequest, you are only at liberty to deal with the annual increment. On our part as trustees we have a first charge on that increment to be used for purposes of your maintenance, clothes, and education. As to what may remain over each half-year, you will be free to deal with it as you choose. On receiving from you a written authorization to your trustees, if you desire the whole sum or any part of it to be paid over to Miss Janet MacKelpie, I shall see that it is effected. Believe me, that our duty is to protect the corpus of the estate, and to this end we may not act on any instruction to imperil it. But there our warranty stops. We can deal during our trusteeship with the corpus only. Further, lest there should arise any error on your part, we can deal with any general instruction for only so long as it may remain unrevoked. You are, and must be, free to alter your instructions or authorizations at any time. Thus your latest document must be used for our guidance. As to the general principle involved in your wish I make no comment. You are at liberty to deal with your own how you will. I quite understand that your impulse is a generous one, and I fully believe that it is in consonance with what had always been the wishes of my sister. Had she been happily alive and had to give judgment of your intent, I am convinced that she would have approved. Therefore, my dear nephew, should you so wish, I shall be happy for her sake as well as your own to pay over on your account (as a confidential matter between you and me), but from my own pocket, a sum equal to that which you wish transferred to Miss Janet MacKelpie. On hearing from you I shall know how to act in the matter. With all good wishes, Believe me to be, Your affectionate uncle, ROGER MELTON. TO RUPERT SENT LEGER, ESQ. _Letter from Rupert Sent Leger to Roger Melton_, _July_ 5, 1892. MY DEAR UNCLE, Thank you heartily for your kind letter. I quite understand, and now see that I should not have asked you as a trustee, such a thing. I see your duty clearly, and agree with your view of it. I enclose a letter directed to my trustees, asking them to pay over annually till further direction to Miss Janet MacKelpie at this address whatever sum may remain over from the interest of my mother's bequest after deduction of such expenses as you may deem fit for my maintenance, clothing, and education, together with a sum of one pound sterling per month, which was the amount my dear mother always gave me for my personal use--"pocket-money," she called it. With regard to your most kind and generous offer to give to my dear Aunt Janet the sum which I would have given myself, had such been in my power, I thank you most truly and sincerely, both for my dear aunt (to whom, of course, I shall not mention the matter unless you specially authorize me) and myself. But, indeed, I think it will be better not to offer it. Aunt Janet is very proud, and would not accept any benefit. With me, of course, it is different, for since I was a wee child she has been like another mother to me, and I love her very much. Since my mother died--and she, of course, was all-in-all to me--there has been no other. And in such a love as ours pride has no place. Thank you again, dear uncle, and God bless you. Your loving nephew, RUPERT SENT LEGER. ERNEST ROGER HALBARD MELTON'S RECORD--_Continued_. And now _re_ the remaining one of Sir Geoffrey's children, Roger. He was the third child and third son, the only daughter, Patience, having been born twenty years after the last of the four sons. Concerning Roger, I shall put down all I have heard of him from my father and grandfather. From my grand-aunt I heard nothing, I was a very small kid when she died; but I remember seeing her, but only once. A very tall, handsome woman of a little over thirty, with very dark hair and light-coloured eyes. I think they were either grey or blue, but I can't remember which. She looked very proud and haughty, but I am bound to say that she was very nice to me. I remember feeling very jealous of Rupert because his mother looked so distinguished. Rupert was eight years older than me, and I was afraid he would beat me if I said anything he did not like. So I was silent except when I forgot to be, and Rupert said very unkindly, and I think very unfairly, that I was "A sulky little beast." I haven't forgot that, and I don't mean to. However, it doesn't matter much what he said or thought. There he is--if he is at all--where no one can find him, with no money or nothing, for what little he had he settled when he came of age, on the MacSkelpie. He wanted to give it to her when his mother died, but father, who was a trustee, refused; and Uncle Roger, as I call him, who is another, thought the trustees had no power to allow Rupert to throw away his matrimony, as I called it, making a joke to father when he called it patrimony. Old Sir Colin MacSkelpie, who is the third, said he couldn't take any part in such a permission, as the MacSkelpie was his niece. He is a rude old man, that. I remember when, not remembering his relationship, I spoke of the MacSkelpie, he caught me a clip on the ear that sent me across the room. His Scotch is very broad. I can hear him say, "Hae some attempt at even Soothern manners, and dinna misca' yer betters, ye young puddock, or I'll wring yer snoot!" Father was, I could see, very much offended, but he didn't say anything. He remembered, I think, that the General is a V.C. man, and was fond of fighting duels. But to show that the fault was not his, _he_ wrung _my_ ear--and the same ear too! I suppose he thought that was justice! But it's only right to say that he made up for it afterwards. When the General had gone he gave me a five-pound note. I don't think Uncle Roger was very pleased with the way Rupert behaved about the legacy, for I don't think he ever saw him from that day to this. Perhaps, of course, it was because Rupert ran away shortly afterwards; but I shall tell about that when I come to him. After all, why should my uncle bother about him? He is not a Melton at all, and I am to be Head of the House--of course, when the Lord thinks right to take father to Himself! Uncle Roger has tons of money, and he never married, so if he wants to leave it in the right direction he needn't have any trouble. He made his money in what he calls "the Eastern Trade." This, so far as I can gather, takes in the Levant and all east of it. I know he has what they call in trade "houses" in all sorts of places--Turkey, and Greece, and all round them, Morocco, Egypt, and Southern Russia, and the Holy Land; then on to Persia, India, and all round it; the Chersonese, China, Japan, and the Pacific Islands. It is not to be expected that we landowners can know much about trade, but my uncle covers--or alas! I must say "covered"--a lot of ground, I can tell you. Uncle Roger was a very grim sort of man, and only that I was brought up to try and be kind to him I shouldn't ever have dared to speak to him. But when was a child father and mother--especially mother--forced me to go and see him and be affectionate to him. He wasn't ever even civil to me, that I can remember--grumpy old bear! But, then, he never saw Rupert at all, so that I take it Master R--- is out of the running altogether for testamentary honours. The last time I saw him myself he was distinctly rude. He treated me as a boy, though I was getting on for eighteen years of age. I came into his office without knocking; and without looking up from his desk, where he was writing, he said: "Get out! Why do you venture to disturb me when I'm busy? Get out, and be damned to you!" I waited where I was, ready to transfix him with my eye when he should look up, for I cannot forget that when my father dies I shall be Head of my House. But when he did there was no transfixing possible. He said quite coolly: "Oh, it's you, is it? I thought it was one of my office boys. Sit down, if you want to see me, and wait till I am ready." So I sat down and waited. Father always said that I should try to conciliate and please my uncle. Father is a very shrewd man, and Uncle Roger is a very rich one. But I don't think Uncle R--- is as shrewd as he thinks he is. He sometimes makes awful mistakes in business. For instance, some years ago he bought an enormous estate on the Adriatic, in the country they call the "Land of Blue Mountains." At least, he says he bought it. He told father so in confidence. But he didn't show any title-deeds, and I'm greatly afraid he was "had." A bad job for me that he was, for father believes he paid an enormous sum for it, and as I am his natural heir, it reduces his available estate to so much less. And now about Rupert. As I have said, he ran away when he was about fourteen, and we did not hear about him for years. When we--or, rather, my father--did hear of him, it was no good that he heard. He had gone as a cabin-boy on a sailing ship round the Horn. Then he joined an exploring party through the centre of Patagonia, and then another up in Alaska, and a third to the Aleutian Islands. After that he went through Central America, and then to Western Africa, the Pacific Islands, India, and a lot of places. We all know the wisdom of the adage that "A rolling stone gathers no moss"; and certainly, if there be any value in moss, Cousin Rupert will die a poor man. Indeed, nothing will stand his idiotic, boastful wastefulness. Look at the way in which, when he came of age, he made over all his mother's little fortune to the MacSkelpie! I am sure that, though Uncle Roger made no comment to my father, who, as Head of our House, should, of course, have been informed, he was not pleased. My mother, who has a good fortune in her own right, and has had the sense to keep it in her own control--as I am to inherit it, and it is not in the entail, I am therefore quite impartial--I can approve of her spirited conduct in the matter. We never did think much of Rupert, anyhow; but now, since he is in the way to be a pauper, and therefore a dangerous nuisance, we look on him as quite an outsider. We know what he really is. For my own part, I loathe and despise him. Just now we are irritated with him, for we are all kept on tenterhooks regarding my dear Uncle Roger's Will. For Mr. Trent, the attorney who regulated my dear uncle's affairs and has possession of the Will, says it is necessary to know where every possible beneficiary is to be found before making the Will public, so we all have to wait. It is especially hard on me, who am the natural heir. It is very thoughtless indeed of Rupert to keep away like that. I wrote to old MacSkelpie about it, but he didn't seem to understand or to be at all anxious--he is not the heir! He said that probably Rupert Sent Leger--he, too, keeps to the old spelling--did not know of his uncle's death, or he would have taken steps to relieve our anxiety. Our anxiety, forsooth! We are not anxious; we only wish to _know_. And if we--and especially me--who have all the annoyance of thinking of the detestable and unfair death-duties, are anxious, we should be so. Well, anyhow, he'll get a properly bitter disappointment and set down when he does turn up and discovers that he is a pauper without hope! * * * * * To-day we (father and I) had letters from Mr. Trent, telling us that the whereabouts of "Mr. Rupert Sent Leger" had been discovered, and that a letter disclosing the fact of poor Uncle Roger's death had been sent to him. He was at Titicaca when last heard of. So goodness only knows when he may get the letter, which "asks him to come home at once, but only gives to him such information about the Will as has already been given to every member of the testator's family." And that is nil. I dare say we shall be kept waiting for months before we get hold of the estate which is ours. It is too bad! _Letter from Edward Bingham Trent to Ernest Roger Halbard Melton_. 176, LINCOLN'S INN FIELDS, _December_ 28, 1906. DEAR SIR, I am glad to be able to inform you that I have just heard by letter from Mr. Rupert St. Leger that he intended leaving Rio de Janeiro by the S.S. _Amazon_, of the Royal Mail Company, on December 15. He further stated that he would cable just before leaving Rio de Janeiro, to say on what day the ship was expected to arrive in London. As all the others possibly interested in the Will of the late Roger Melton, and whose names are given to me in his instructions regarding the reading of the Will, have been advised, and have expressed their intention of being present at that event on being apprised of the time and place, I now beg to inform you that by cable message received the date scheduled for arrival at the Port of London was January 1 prox. I therefore beg to notify you, subject to postponement due to the non-arrival of the _Amazon_, the reading of the Will of the late Roger Melton, Esq., will take place in my office on Thursday, January 3 prox., at eleven o'clock a.m. I have the honour to be, sir, Yours faithfully, EDWARD BINGHAM TRENT. TO ERNEST ROGER HALBARD MELTON, ESQ., HUMCROFT, SALOP. Cable: _Rupert Sent Leger to Edward Bingham Trent_. _Amazon_ arrives London January 1. SENT LEGER. _Telegram_ (_per Lloyd's_): _Rupert Sent Leger to Edward Bingham Trent_. THE LIZARD, _December_ 31. _Amazon_ arrives London to-morrow morning. All well.--LEGER. _Telegram_: _Edward Bingham Trent to Ernest Roger Halbard Mellon_. Rupert Sent Leger arrived. Reading Will takes place as arranged.--TRENT. ERNEST ROGER HALBARD MELTON'S RECORD. _January_ 4, 1907. The reading of Uncle Roger's Will is over. Father got a duplicate of Mr. Trent's letter to me, and of the cable and two telegrams pasted into this Record. We both waited patiently till the third--that is, we did not say anything. The only impatient member of our family was my mother. She _did_ say things, and if old Trent had been here his ears would have been red. She said what ridiculous nonsense it was delaying the reading of the Will, and keeping the Heir waiting for the arrival of an obscure person who wasn't even a member of the family, inasmuch as he didn't bear the name. I don't think it's quite respectful to one who is some day to be Head of the House! I thought father was weakening in his patience when he said: "True, my dear--true!" and got up and left the room. Some time afterwards when I passed the library I heard him walking up and down. Father and I went up to town on the afternoon of Wednesday, January 2. We stayed, of course, at Claridge's, where we always stay when we go to town. Mother wanted to come, too, but father thought it better not. She would not agree to stay at home till we both promised to send her separate telegrams after the reading. At five minutes to eleven we entered Mr. Trent's office. Father would not go a moment earlier, as he said it was bad form to seem eager at any time, but most of all at the reading of a will. It was a rotten grind, for we had to be walking all over the neighbourhood for half an hour before it was time, not to be too early. When we went into the room we found there General Sir Colin MacKelpie and a big man, very bronzed, whom I took to be Rupert St. Leger--not a very creditable connection to look at, I thought! He and old MacKelpie took care to be in time! Rather low, I thought it. Mr. St. Leger was reading a letter. He had evidently come in but lately, for though he seemed to be eager about it, he was only at the first page, and I could see that there were many sheets. He did not look up when we came in, or till he had finished the letter; and you may be sure that neither I nor my father (who, as Head of the House, should have had more respect from him) took the trouble to go to him. After all, he is a pauper and a wastrel, and he has not the honour of bearing our Name. The General, however, came forward and greeted us both cordially. He evidently had forgotten--or pretended to have--the discourteous way he once treated me, for he spoke to me quite in a friendly way--I thought more warmly than he did to father. I was pleased to be spoken to so nicely, for, after all, whatever his manners may be, he is a distinguished man--has won the V.C. and a Baronetcy. He got the latter not long ago, after the Frontier War in India. I was not, however, led away into cordiality myself. I had not forgotten his rudeness, and I thought that he might be sucking up to me. I knew that when I had my dear Uncle Roger's many millions I should be a rather important person; and, of course, he knew it too. So I got even with him for his former impudence. When he held out his hand I put one finger in it, and said, "How do?" He got very red and turned away. Father and he had ended by glaring at each other, so neither of us was sorry to be done with him. All the time Mr. St. Leger did not seem to see or hear anything, but went on reading his letter. I thought the old MacSkelpie was going to bring him into the matter between us, for as he turned away I heard him say something under his breath. It sounded like "Help!" but Mr. S--- did not hear. He certainly no notice of it. As the MacS--- and Mr. S--- sat quite silent, neither looking at us, and as father was sitting on the other side of the room with his chin in his hand, and as I wanted to show that I was indifferent to the two S's, I took out this notebook, and went on with the Record, bringing it up to this moment. THE RECORD--_Continued_. When I had finished writing I looked over at Rupert. When he saw us, he jumped up and went over to father and shook his hand quite warmly. Father took him very coolly. Rupert, however, did not seem to see it, but came towards me heartily. I happened to be doing something else at the moment, and at first I did not see his hand; but just as I was looking at it the clock struck eleven. Whilst it was striking Mr. Trent came into the room. Close behind him came his clerk, carrying a locked tin box. There were two other men also. He bowed to us all in turn, beginning with me. I was standing opposite the door; the others were scattered about. Father sat still, but Sir Colin and Mr. St. Leger rose. Mr. Trent not did shake hands with any of us--not even me. Nothing but his respectful bow. That is the etiquette for an attorney, I understand, on such formal occasions. He sat down at the end of the big table in the centre of the room, and asked us to sit round. Father, of course, as Head of the Family, took the seat at his right hand. Sir Colin and St. Leger went to the other side, the former taking the seat next to the attorney. The General knows, of course, that a Baronet takes precedence at a ceremony. I may be a Baronet some day myself, and have to know these things. The clerk took the key which his master handed to him, opened the tin box, and took from it a bundle of papers tied with red tape. This he placed before the attorney, and put the empty box behind him on the floor. Then he and the other man sat at the far end of the table; the latter took out a big notebook and several pencils, and put them before him. He was evidently a shorthand-writer. Mr. Trent removed the tape from the bundle of papers, which he placed a little distance in front of him. He took a sealed envelope from the top, broke the seal, opened the envelope, and from it took a parchment, in the folds of which were some sealed envelopes, which he laid in a heap in front of the other paper. Then he unfolded the parchment, and laid it before him with the outside page up. He fixed his glasses, and said: "Gentlemen, the sealed envelope which you have seen me open is endorsed 'My Last Will and Testament--ROGER MELTON, _June_, 1906.' This document"--holding it up--"is as follows: "'I Roger Melton of Openshaw Grange in the County of Dorset; of number one hundred and twenty-three Berkeley Square London; and of the Castle of Vissarion in the Land of the Blue Mountains, being of sound mind do make this my Last Will and Testament on this day Monday the eleventh day of the month of June in the year of Our Lord one thousand nine hundred and six at the office of my old friend and Attorney Edward Bingham Trent in number one hundred and seventy-six Lincoln's Inn Fields London hereby revoking all other wills that I may have formerly made and giving this as my sole and last Will making dispositions of my property as follows: "'1. To my kinsman and nephew Ernest Halbard Melton Esquire, justice of the Peace, Humcroft the County of Salop, for his sole use and benefit the sum of twenty thousand pounds sterling free of all Duties Taxes and charges whatever to be paid out of my Five per centum Bonds of the City of Montreal, Canada. "'2. To my respected friend and colleague as co-trustee to the Will of my late sister Patience late widow of the late Captain Rupert Sent Leger who predeceased her, Major-General Sir Colin Alexander MacKelpie, Baronet, holder of the Victoria Cross, Knight Commander of the Order of the Bath, of Croom in the county of Ross Scotland a sum of Twenty thousand pounds sterling free of all Taxes and charges whatsoever; to be paid out of my Five per centum Bonds of the City of Toronto, Canada. "'3. To Miss Janet MacKelpie presently residing at Croom in the County of Ross Scotland the sum of Twenty thousand pounds sterling free of all Duties Taxes and Charges whatsoever, to be paid out of my Five per centum Bonds of the London County Council. "'4. To the various persons charities and Trustees named in the schedule attached to this Will and marked A. the various sums mentioned therein, all free of Duties and Taxes and charges whatsoever.'" Here Mr. Trent read out the list here following, and announced for our immediate understanding of the situation the total amount as two hundred and fifty thousand pounds. Many of the beneficiaries were old friends, comrades, dependents, and servants, some of them being left

assured

How many times the word 'assured' appears in the text?

you; and if the sword of an old soldier--it is all I have--can ever serve you in any way, it and its master's life are, and shall be, whilst life remains to him, yours. It grieves me to think that Janet cannot, through my act, be given that ease and tranquillity of spirit which come from competence. But, my dear Rupert, you will be of full age in seven years more. Then, if you are in the same mind--and I am sure you will not change--you, being your own master, can do freely as you will. In the meantime, to secure, so far as I can, my dear Janet against any malign stroke of fortune, I have given orders to my factor to remit semi-annually to Janet one full half of such income as may be derived in any form from my estate of Croom. It is, I am sorry to say, heavily mortgaged; but of such as is--or may be, free from such charge as the mortgage entails--something at least will, I trust, remain to her. And, my dear boy, I can frankly say that it is to me a real pleasure that you and I can be linked in one more bond in this association of purpose. I have always held you in my heart as though you were my own son. Let me tell you now that you have acted as I should have liked a son of my own, had I been blessed with one, to have acted. God bless you, my dear. Yours ever, COLIN ALEX. MACKELPIE. _Letter from Roger Melton_, _of Openshaw Grange_, _to Rupert Sent Leger_, _Esq._, 14, _Newland Park_, _Dulwich_, _London_, _S.E._ _July_ 1, 1892. MY DEAR NEPHEW, Your letter of the 30th ult. received. Have carefully considered matter stated, and have come to the conclusion that my duty as a trustee would not allow me to give full consent, as you wish. Let me explain. The testator, in making her will, intended that such fortune as she had at disposal should be used to supply to you her son such benefits as its annual product should procure. To this end, and to provide against wastefulness or foolishness on your part, or, indeed, against any generosity, howsoever worthy, which might impoverish you and so defeat her benevolent intentions regarding your education, comfort, and future good, she did not place the estate directly in your hands, leaving you to do as you might feel inclined about it. But, on the contrary, she entrusted the corpus of it in the hands of men whom she believed should be resolute enough and strong enough to carry out her intent, even against any cajolements or pressure which might be employed to the contrary. It being her intention, then, that such trustees as she appointed would use for your benefit the interest accruing annually from the capital at command, _and that only_ (as specifically directed in the will), so that on your arriving at full age the capital entrusted to us should be handed over to you intact, I find a hard-and-fast duty in the matter of adhering exactly to the directions given. I have no doubt that my co-trustees regard the matter in exactly the same light. Under the circumstances, therefore, we, the trustees, have not only a single and united duty towards you as the object of the testator's wishes, but towards each other as regards the manner of the carrying out of that duty. I take it, therefore, that it would not be consonant with the spirit of the trust or of our own ideas in accepting it that any of us should take a course pleasant to himself which would or might involve a stern opposition on the part of other of the co-trustees. We have each of us to do the unpleasant part of this duty without fear or favour. You understand, of course, that the time which must elapse before you come into absolute possession of your estate is a limited one. As by the terms of the will we are to hand over our trust when you have reached the age of twenty-one, there are only seven years to expire. But till then, though I should gladly meet your wishes if I could, I must adhere to the duty which I have undertaken. At the expiration of that period you will be quite free to divest yourself of your estate without protest or comment of any man. Having now expressed as clearly as I can the limitations by which I am bound with regard to the corpus of your estate, let me say that in any other way which is in my power or discretion I shall be most happy to see your wishes carried out so far as rests with me. Indeed, I shall undertake to use what influence I may possess with my co-trustees to induce them to take a similar view of your wishes. In my own thinking you are quite free to use your own property in your own way. But as, until you shall have attained your majority, you have only life-user in your mother's bequest, you are only at liberty to deal with the annual increment. On our part as trustees we have a first charge on that increment to be used for purposes of your maintenance, clothes, and education. As to what may remain over each half-year, you will be free to deal with it as you choose. On receiving from you a written authorization to your trustees, if you desire the whole sum or any part of it to be paid over to Miss Janet MacKelpie, I shall see that it is effected. Believe me, that our duty is to protect the corpus of the estate, and to this end we may not act on any instruction to imperil it. But there our warranty stops. We can deal during our trusteeship with the corpus only. Further, lest there should arise any error on your part, we can deal with any general instruction for only so long as it may remain unrevoked. You are, and must be, free to alter your instructions or authorizations at any time. Thus your latest document must be used for our guidance. As to the general principle involved in your wish I make no comment. You are at liberty to deal with your own how you will. I quite understand that your impulse is a generous one, and I fully believe that it is in consonance with what had always been the wishes of my sister. Had she been happily alive and had to give judgment of your intent, I am convinced that she would have approved. Therefore, my dear nephew, should you so wish, I shall be happy for her sake as well as your own to pay over on your account (as a confidential matter between you and me), but from my own pocket, a sum equal to that which you wish transferred to Miss Janet MacKelpie. On hearing from you I shall know how to act in the matter. With all good wishes, Believe me to be, Your affectionate uncle, ROGER MELTON. TO RUPERT SENT LEGER, ESQ. _Letter from Rupert Sent Leger to Roger Melton_, _July_ 5, 1892. MY DEAR UNCLE, Thank you heartily for your kind letter. I quite understand, and now see that I should not have asked you as a trustee, such a thing. I see your duty clearly, and agree with your view of it. I enclose a letter directed to my trustees, asking them to pay over annually till further direction to Miss Janet MacKelpie at this address whatever sum may remain over from the interest of my mother's bequest after deduction of such expenses as you may deem fit for my maintenance, clothing, and education, together with a sum of one pound sterling per month, which was the amount my dear mother always gave me for my personal use--"pocket-money," she called it. With regard to your most kind and generous offer to give to my dear Aunt Janet the sum which I would have given myself, had such been in my power, I thank you most truly and sincerely, both for my dear aunt (to whom, of course, I shall not mention the matter unless you specially authorize me) and myself. But, indeed, I think it will be better not to offer it. Aunt Janet is very proud, and would not accept any benefit. With me, of course, it is different, for since I was a wee child she has been like another mother to me, and I love her very much. Since my mother died--and she, of course, was all-in-all to me--there has been no other. And in such a love as ours pride has no place. Thank you again, dear uncle, and God bless you. Your loving nephew, RUPERT SENT LEGER. ERNEST ROGER HALBARD MELTON'S RECORD--_Continued_. And now _re_ the remaining one of Sir Geoffrey's children, Roger. He was the third child and third son, the only daughter, Patience, having been born twenty years after the last of the four sons. Concerning Roger, I shall put down all I have heard of him from my father and grandfather. From my grand-aunt I heard nothing, I was a very small kid when she died; but I remember seeing her, but only once. A very tall, handsome woman of a little over thirty, with very dark hair and light-coloured eyes. I think they were either grey or blue, but I can't remember which. She looked very proud and haughty, but I am bound to say that she was very nice to me. I remember feeling very jealous of Rupert because his mother looked so distinguished. Rupert was eight years older than me, and I was afraid he would beat me if I said anything he did not like. So I was silent except when I forgot to be, and Rupert said very unkindly, and I think very unfairly, that I was "A sulky little beast." I haven't forgot that, and I don't mean to. However, it doesn't matter much what he said or thought. There he is--if he is at all--where no one can find him, with no money or nothing, for what little he had he settled when he came of age, on the MacSkelpie. He wanted to give it to her when his mother died, but father, who was a trustee, refused; and Uncle Roger, as I call him, who is another, thought the trustees had no power to allow Rupert to throw away his matrimony, as I called it, making a joke to father when he called it patrimony. Old Sir Colin MacSkelpie, who is the third, said he couldn't take any part in such a permission, as the MacSkelpie was his niece. He is a rude old man, that. I remember when, not remembering his relationship, I spoke of the MacSkelpie, he caught me a clip on the ear that sent me across the room. His Scotch is very broad. I can hear him say, "Hae some attempt at even Soothern manners, and dinna misca' yer betters, ye young puddock, or I'll wring yer snoot!" Father was, I could see, very much offended, but he didn't say anything. He remembered, I think, that the General is a V.C. man, and was fond of fighting duels. But to show that the fault was not his, _he_ wrung _my_ ear--and the same ear too! I suppose he thought that was justice! But it's only right to say that he made up for it afterwards. When the General had gone he gave me a five-pound note. I don't think Uncle Roger was very pleased with the way Rupert behaved about the legacy, for I don't think he ever saw him from that day to this. Perhaps, of course, it was because Rupert ran away shortly afterwards; but I shall tell about that when I come to him. After all, why should my uncle bother about him? He is not a Melton at all, and I am to be Head of the House--of course, when the Lord thinks right to take father to Himself! Uncle Roger has tons of money, and he never married, so if he wants to leave it in the right direction he needn't have any trouble. He made his money in what he calls "the Eastern Trade." This, so far as I can gather, takes in the Levant and all east of it. I know he has what they call in trade "houses" in all sorts of places--Turkey, and Greece, and all round them, Morocco, Egypt, and Southern Russia, and the Holy Land; then on to Persia, India, and all round it; the Chersonese, China, Japan, and the Pacific Islands. It is not to be expected that we landowners can know much about trade, but my uncle covers--or alas! I must say "covered"--a lot of ground, I can tell you. Uncle Roger was a very grim sort of man, and only that I was brought up to try and be kind to him I shouldn't ever have dared to speak to him. But when was a child father and mother--especially mother--forced me to go and see him and be affectionate to him. He wasn't ever even civil to me, that I can remember--grumpy old bear! But, then, he never saw Rupert at all, so that I take it Master R--- is out of the running altogether for testamentary honours. The last time I saw him myself he was distinctly rude. He treated me as a boy, though I was getting on for eighteen years of age. I came into his office without knocking; and without looking up from his desk, where he was writing, he said: "Get out! Why do you venture to disturb me when I'm busy? Get out, and be damned to you!" I waited where I was, ready to transfix him with my eye when he should look up, for I cannot forget that when my father dies I shall be Head of my House. But when he did there was no transfixing possible. He said quite coolly: "Oh, it's you, is it? I thought it was one of my office boys. Sit down, if you want to see me, and wait till I am ready." So I sat down and waited. Father always said that I should try to conciliate and please my uncle. Father is a very shrewd man, and Uncle Roger is a very rich one. But I don't think Uncle R--- is as shrewd as he thinks he is. He sometimes makes awful mistakes in business. For instance, some years ago he bought an enormous estate on the Adriatic, in the country they call the "Land of Blue Mountains." At least, he says he bought it. He told father so in confidence. But he didn't show any title-deeds, and I'm greatly afraid he was "had." A bad job for me that he was, for father believes he paid an enormous sum for it, and as I am his natural heir, it reduces his available estate to so much less. And now about Rupert. As I have said, he ran away when he was about fourteen, and we did not hear about him for years. When we--or, rather, my father--did hear of him, it was no good that he heard. He had gone as a cabin-boy on a sailing ship round the Horn. Then he joined an exploring party through the centre of Patagonia, and then another up in Alaska, and a third to the Aleutian Islands. After that he went through Central America, and then to Western Africa, the Pacific Islands, India, and a lot of places. We all know the wisdom of the adage that "A rolling stone gathers no moss"; and certainly, if there be any value in moss, Cousin Rupert will die a poor man. Indeed, nothing will stand his idiotic, boastful wastefulness. Look at the way in which, when he came of age, he made over all his mother's little fortune to the MacSkelpie! I am sure that, though Uncle Roger made no comment to my father, who, as Head of our House, should, of course, have been informed, he was not pleased. My mother, who has a good fortune in her own right, and has had the sense to keep it in her own control--as I am to inherit it, and it is not in the entail, I am therefore quite impartial--I can approve of her spirited conduct in the matter. We never did think much of Rupert, anyhow; but now, since he is in the way to be a pauper, and therefore a dangerous nuisance, we look on him as quite an outsider. We know what he really is. For my own part, I loathe and despise him. Just now we are irritated with him, for we are all kept on tenterhooks regarding my dear Uncle Roger's Will. For Mr. Trent, the attorney who regulated my dear uncle's affairs and has possession of the Will, says it is necessary to know where every possible beneficiary is to be found before making the Will public, so we all have to wait. It is especially hard on me, who am the natural heir. It is very thoughtless indeed of Rupert to keep away like that. I wrote to old MacSkelpie about it, but he didn't seem to understand or to be at all anxious--he is not the heir! He said that probably Rupert Sent Leger--he, too, keeps to the old spelling--did not know of his uncle's death, or he would have taken steps to relieve our anxiety. Our anxiety, forsooth! We are not anxious; we only wish to _know_. And if we--and especially me--who have all the annoyance of thinking of the detestable and unfair death-duties, are anxious, we should be so. Well, anyhow, he'll get a properly bitter disappointment and set down when he does turn up and discovers that he is a pauper without hope! * * * * * To-day we (father and I) had letters from Mr. Trent, telling us that the whereabouts of "Mr. Rupert Sent Leger" had been discovered, and that a letter disclosing the fact of poor Uncle Roger's death had been sent to him. He was at Titicaca when last heard of. So goodness only knows when he may get the letter, which "asks him to come home at once, but only gives to him such information about the Will as has already been given to every member of the testator's family." And that is nil. I dare say we shall be kept waiting for months before we get hold of the estate which is ours. It is too bad! _Letter from Edward Bingham Trent to Ernest Roger Halbard Melton_. 176, LINCOLN'S INN FIELDS, _December_ 28, 1906. DEAR SIR, I am glad to be able to inform you that I have just heard by letter from Mr. Rupert St. Leger that he intended leaving Rio de Janeiro by the S.S. _Amazon_, of the Royal Mail Company, on December 15. He further stated that he would cable just before leaving Rio de Janeiro, to say on what day the ship was expected to arrive in London. As all the others possibly interested in the Will of the late Roger Melton, and whose names are given to me in his instructions regarding the reading of the Will, have been advised, and have expressed their intention of being present at that event on being apprised of the time and place, I now beg to inform you that by cable message received the date scheduled for arrival at the Port of London was January 1 prox. I therefore beg to notify you, subject to postponement due to the non-arrival of the _Amazon_, the reading of the Will of the late Roger Melton, Esq., will take place in my office on Thursday, January 3 prox., at eleven o'clock a.m. I have the honour to be, sir, Yours faithfully, EDWARD BINGHAM TRENT. TO ERNEST ROGER HALBARD MELTON, ESQ., HUMCROFT, SALOP. Cable: _Rupert Sent Leger to Edward Bingham Trent_. _Amazon_ arrives London January 1. SENT LEGER. _Telegram_ (_per Lloyd's_): _Rupert Sent Leger to Edward Bingham Trent_. THE LIZARD, _December_ 31. _Amazon_ arrives London to-morrow morning. All well.--LEGER. _Telegram_: _Edward Bingham Trent to Ernest Roger Halbard Mellon_. Rupert Sent Leger arrived. Reading Will takes place as arranged.--TRENT. ERNEST ROGER HALBARD MELTON'S RECORD. _January_ 4, 1907. The reading of Uncle Roger's Will is over. Father got a duplicate of Mr. Trent's letter to me, and of the cable and two telegrams pasted into this Record. We both waited patiently till the third--that is, we did not say anything. The only impatient member of our family was my mother. She _did_ say things, and if old Trent had been here his ears would have been red. She said what ridiculous nonsense it was delaying the reading of the Will, and keeping the Heir waiting for the arrival of an obscure person who wasn't even a member of the family, inasmuch as he didn't bear the name. I don't think it's quite respectful to one who is some day to be Head of the House! I thought father was weakening in his patience when he said: "True, my dear--true!" and got up and left the room. Some time afterwards when I passed the library I heard him walking up and down. Father and I went up to town on the afternoon of Wednesday, January 2. We stayed, of course, at Claridge's, where we always stay when we go to town. Mother wanted to come, too, but father thought it better not. She would not agree to stay at home till we both promised to send her separate telegrams after the reading. At five minutes to eleven we entered Mr. Trent's office. Father would not go a moment earlier, as he said it was bad form to seem eager at any time, but most of all at the reading of a will. It was a rotten grind, for we had to be walking all over the neighbourhood for half an hour before it was time, not to be too early. When we went into the room we found there General Sir Colin MacKelpie and a big man, very bronzed, whom I took to be Rupert St. Leger--not a very creditable connection to look at, I thought! He and old MacKelpie took care to be in time! Rather low, I thought it. Mr. St. Leger was reading a letter. He had evidently come in but lately, for though he seemed to be eager about it, he was only at the first page, and I could see that there were many sheets. He did not look up when we came in, or till he had finished the letter; and you may be sure that neither I nor my father (who, as Head of the House, should have had more respect from him) took the trouble to go to him. After all, he is a pauper and a wastrel, and he has not the honour of bearing our Name. The General, however, came forward and greeted us both cordially. He evidently had forgotten--or pretended to have--the discourteous way he once treated me, for he spoke to me quite in a friendly way--I thought more warmly than he did to father. I was pleased to be spoken to so nicely, for, after all, whatever his manners may be, he is a distinguished man--has won the V.C. and a Baronetcy. He got the latter not long ago, after the Frontier War in India. I was not, however, led away into cordiality myself. I had not forgotten his rudeness, and I thought that he might be sucking up to me. I knew that when I had my dear Uncle Roger's many millions I should be a rather important person; and, of course, he knew it too. So I got even with him for his former impudence. When he held out his hand I put one finger in it, and said, "How do?" He got very red and turned away. Father and he had ended by glaring at each other, so neither of us was sorry to be done with him. All the time Mr. St. Leger did not seem to see or hear anything, but went on reading his letter. I thought the old MacSkelpie was going to bring him into the matter between us, for as he turned away I heard him say something under his breath. It sounded like "Help!" but Mr. S--- did not hear. He certainly no notice of it. As the MacS--- and Mr. S--- sat quite silent, neither looking at us, and as father was sitting on the other side of the room with his chin in his hand, and as I wanted to show that I was indifferent to the two S's, I took out this notebook, and went on with the Record, bringing it up to this moment. THE RECORD--_Continued_. When I had finished writing I looked over at Rupert. When he saw us, he jumped up and went over to father and shook his hand quite warmly. Father took him very coolly. Rupert, however, did not seem to see it, but came towards me heartily. I happened to be doing something else at the moment, and at first I did not see his hand; but just as I was looking at it the clock struck eleven. Whilst it was striking Mr. Trent came into the room. Close behind him came his clerk, carrying a locked tin box. There were two other men also. He bowed to us all in turn, beginning with me. I was standing opposite the door; the others were scattered about. Father sat still, but Sir Colin and Mr. St. Leger rose. Mr. Trent not did shake hands with any of us--not even me. Nothing but his respectful bow. That is the etiquette for an attorney, I understand, on such formal occasions. He sat down at the end of the big table in the centre of the room, and asked us to sit round. Father, of course, as Head of the Family, took the seat at his right hand. Sir Colin and St. Leger went to the other side, the former taking the seat next to the attorney. The General knows, of course, that a Baronet takes precedence at a ceremony. I may be a Baronet some day myself, and have to know these things. The clerk took the key which his master handed to him, opened the tin box, and took from it a bundle of papers tied with red tape. This he placed before the attorney, and put the empty box behind him on the floor. Then he and the other man sat at the far end of the table; the latter took out a big notebook and several pencils, and put them before him. He was evidently a shorthand-writer. Mr. Trent removed the tape from the bundle of papers, which he placed a little distance in front of him. He took a sealed envelope from the top, broke the seal, opened the envelope, and from it took a parchment, in the folds of which were some sealed envelopes, which he laid in a heap in front of the other paper. Then he unfolded the parchment, and laid it before him with the outside page up. He fixed his glasses, and said: "Gentlemen, the sealed envelope which you have seen me open is endorsed 'My Last Will and Testament--ROGER MELTON, _June_, 1906.' This document"--holding it up--"is as follows: "'I Roger Melton of Openshaw Grange in the County of Dorset; of number one hundred and twenty-three Berkeley Square London; and of the Castle of Vissarion in the Land of the Blue Mountains, being of sound mind do make this my Last Will and Testament on this day Monday the eleventh day of the month of June in the year of Our Lord one thousand nine hundred and six at the office of my old friend and Attorney Edward Bingham Trent in number one hundred and seventy-six Lincoln's Inn Fields London hereby revoking all other wills that I may have formerly made and giving this as my sole and last Will making dispositions of my property as follows: "'1. To my kinsman and nephew Ernest Halbard Melton Esquire, justice of the Peace, Humcroft the County of Salop, for his sole use and benefit the sum of twenty thousand pounds sterling free of all Duties Taxes and charges whatever to be paid out of my Five per centum Bonds of the City of Montreal, Canada. "'2. To my respected friend and colleague as co-trustee to the Will of my late sister Patience late widow of the late Captain Rupert Sent Leger who predeceased her, Major-General Sir Colin Alexander MacKelpie, Baronet, holder of the Victoria Cross, Knight Commander of the Order of the Bath, of Croom in the county of Ross Scotland a sum of Twenty thousand pounds sterling free of all Taxes and charges whatsoever; to be paid out of my Five per centum Bonds of the City of Toronto, Canada. "'3. To Miss Janet MacKelpie presently residing at Croom in the County of Ross Scotland the sum of Twenty thousand pounds sterling free of all Duties Taxes and Charges whatsoever, to be paid out of my Five per centum Bonds of the London County Council. "'4. To the various persons charities and Trustees named in the schedule attached to this Will and marked A. the various sums mentioned therein, all free of Duties and Taxes and charges whatsoever.'" Here Mr. Trent read out the list here following, and announced for our immediate understanding of the situation the total amount as two hundred and fifty thousand pounds. Many of the beneficiaries were old friends, comrades, dependents, and servants, some of them being left

entrusted

How many times the word 'entrusted' appears in the text?

you; and if the sword of an old soldier--it is all I have--can ever serve you in any way, it and its master's life are, and shall be, whilst life remains to him, yours. It grieves me to think that Janet cannot, through my act, be given that ease and tranquillity of spirit which come from competence. But, my dear Rupert, you will be of full age in seven years more. Then, if you are in the same mind--and I am sure you will not change--you, being your own master, can do freely as you will. In the meantime, to secure, so far as I can, my dear Janet against any malign stroke of fortune, I have given orders to my factor to remit semi-annually to Janet one full half of such income as may be derived in any form from my estate of Croom. It is, I am sorry to say, heavily mortgaged; but of such as is--or may be, free from such charge as the mortgage entails--something at least will, I trust, remain to her. And, my dear boy, I can frankly say that it is to me a real pleasure that you and I can be linked in one more bond in this association of purpose. I have always held you in my heart as though you were my own son. Let me tell you now that you have acted as I should have liked a son of my own, had I been blessed with one, to have acted. God bless you, my dear. Yours ever, COLIN ALEX. MACKELPIE. _Letter from Roger Melton_, _of Openshaw Grange_, _to Rupert Sent Leger_, _Esq._, 14, _Newland Park_, _Dulwich_, _London_, _S.E._ _July_ 1, 1892. MY DEAR NEPHEW, Your letter of the 30th ult. received. Have carefully considered matter stated, and have come to the conclusion that my duty as a trustee would not allow me to give full consent, as you wish. Let me explain. The testator, in making her will, intended that such fortune as she had at disposal should be used to supply to you her son such benefits as its annual product should procure. To this end, and to provide against wastefulness or foolishness on your part, or, indeed, against any generosity, howsoever worthy, which might impoverish you and so defeat her benevolent intentions regarding your education, comfort, and future good, she did not place the estate directly in your hands, leaving you to do as you might feel inclined about it. But, on the contrary, she entrusted the corpus of it in the hands of men whom she believed should be resolute enough and strong enough to carry out her intent, even against any cajolements or pressure which might be employed to the contrary. It being her intention, then, that such trustees as she appointed would use for your benefit the interest accruing annually from the capital at command, _and that only_ (as specifically directed in the will), so that on your arriving at full age the capital entrusted to us should be handed over to you intact, I find a hard-and-fast duty in the matter of adhering exactly to the directions given. I have no doubt that my co-trustees regard the matter in exactly the same light. Under the circumstances, therefore, we, the trustees, have not only a single and united duty towards you as the object of the testator's wishes, but towards each other as regards the manner of the carrying out of that duty. I take it, therefore, that it would not be consonant with the spirit of the trust or of our own ideas in accepting it that any of us should take a course pleasant to himself which would or might involve a stern opposition on the part of other of the co-trustees. We have each of us to do the unpleasant part of this duty without fear or favour. You understand, of course, that the time which must elapse before you come into absolute possession of your estate is a limited one. As by the terms of the will we are to hand over our trust when you have reached the age of twenty-one, there are only seven years to expire. But till then, though I should gladly meet your wishes if I could, I must adhere to the duty which I have undertaken. At the expiration of that period you will be quite free to divest yourself of your estate without protest or comment of any man. Having now expressed as clearly as I can the limitations by which I am bound with regard to the corpus of your estate, let me say that in any other way which is in my power or discretion I shall be most happy to see your wishes carried out so far as rests with me. Indeed, I shall undertake to use what influence I may possess with my co-trustees to induce them to take a similar view of your wishes. In my own thinking you are quite free to use your own property in your own way. But as, until you shall have attained your majority, you have only life-user in your mother's bequest, you are only at liberty to deal with the annual increment. On our part as trustees we have a first charge on that increment to be used for purposes of your maintenance, clothes, and education. As to what may remain over each half-year, you will be free to deal with it as you choose. On receiving from you a written authorization to your trustees, if you desire the whole sum or any part of it to be paid over to Miss Janet MacKelpie, I shall see that it is effected. Believe me, that our duty is to protect the corpus of the estate, and to this end we may not act on any instruction to imperil it. But there our warranty stops. We can deal during our trusteeship with the corpus only. Further, lest there should arise any error on your part, we can deal with any general instruction for only so long as it may remain unrevoked. You are, and must be, free to alter your instructions or authorizations at any time. Thus your latest document must be used for our guidance. As to the general principle involved in your wish I make no comment. You are at liberty to deal with your own how you will. I quite understand that your impulse is a generous one, and I fully believe that it is in consonance with what had always been the wishes of my sister. Had she been happily alive and had to give judgment of your intent, I am convinced that she would have approved. Therefore, my dear nephew, should you so wish, I shall be happy for her sake as well as your own to pay over on your account (as a confidential matter between you and me), but from my own pocket, a sum equal to that which you wish transferred to Miss Janet MacKelpie. On hearing from you I shall know how to act in the matter. With all good wishes, Believe me to be, Your affectionate uncle, ROGER MELTON. TO RUPERT SENT LEGER, ESQ. _Letter from Rupert Sent Leger to Roger Melton_, _July_ 5, 1892. MY DEAR UNCLE, Thank you heartily for your kind letter. I quite understand, and now see that I should not have asked you as a trustee, such a thing. I see your duty clearly, and agree with your view of it. I enclose a letter directed to my trustees, asking them to pay over annually till further direction to Miss Janet MacKelpie at this address whatever sum may remain over from the interest of my mother's bequest after deduction of such expenses as you may deem fit for my maintenance, clothing, and education, together with a sum of one pound sterling per month, which was the amount my dear mother always gave me for my personal use--"pocket-money," she called it. With regard to your most kind and generous offer to give to my dear Aunt Janet the sum which I would have given myself, had such been in my power, I thank you most truly and sincerely, both for my dear aunt (to whom, of course, I shall not mention the matter unless you specially authorize me) and myself. But, indeed, I think it will be better not to offer it. Aunt Janet is very proud, and would not accept any benefit. With me, of course, it is different, for since I was a wee child she has been like another mother to me, and I love her very much. Since my mother died--and she, of course, was all-in-all to me--there has been no other. And in such a love as ours pride has no place. Thank you again, dear uncle, and God bless you. Your loving nephew, RUPERT SENT LEGER. ERNEST ROGER HALBARD MELTON'S RECORD--_Continued_. And now _re_ the remaining one of Sir Geoffrey's children, Roger. He was the third child and third son, the only daughter, Patience, having been born twenty years after the last of the four sons. Concerning Roger, I shall put down all I have heard of him from my father and grandfather. From my grand-aunt I heard nothing, I was a very small kid when she died; but I remember seeing her, but only once. A very tall, handsome woman of a little over thirty, with very dark hair and light-coloured eyes. I think they were either grey or blue, but I can't remember which. She looked very proud and haughty, but I am bound to say that she was very nice to me. I remember feeling very jealous of Rupert because his mother looked so distinguished. Rupert was eight years older than me, and I was afraid he would beat me if I said anything he did not like. So I was silent except when I forgot to be, and Rupert said very unkindly, and I think very unfairly, that I was "A sulky little beast." I haven't forgot that, and I don't mean to. However, it doesn't matter much what he said or thought. There he is--if he is at all--where no one can find him, with no money or nothing, for what little he had he settled when he came of age, on the MacSkelpie. He wanted to give it to her when his mother died, but father, who was a trustee, refused; and Uncle Roger, as I call him, who is another, thought the trustees had no power to allow Rupert to throw away his matrimony, as I called it, making a joke to father when he called it patrimony. Old Sir Colin MacSkelpie, who is the third, said he couldn't take any part in such a permission, as the MacSkelpie was his niece. He is a rude old man, that. I remember when, not remembering his relationship, I spoke of the MacSkelpie, he caught me a clip on the ear that sent me across the room. His Scotch is very broad. I can hear him say, "Hae some attempt at even Soothern manners, and dinna misca' yer betters, ye young puddock, or I'll wring yer snoot!" Father was, I could see, very much offended, but he didn't say anything. He remembered, I think, that the General is a V.C. man, and was fond of fighting duels. But to show that the fault was not his, _he_ wrung _my_ ear--and the same ear too! I suppose he thought that was justice! But it's only right to say that he made up for it afterwards. When the General had gone he gave me a five-pound note. I don't think Uncle Roger was very pleased with the way Rupert behaved about the legacy, for I don't think he ever saw him from that day to this. Perhaps, of course, it was because Rupert ran away shortly afterwards; but I shall tell about that when I come to him. After all, why should my uncle bother about him? He is not a Melton at all, and I am to be Head of the House--of course, when the Lord thinks right to take father to Himself! Uncle Roger has tons of money, and he never married, so if he wants to leave it in the right direction he needn't have any trouble. He made his money in what he calls "the Eastern Trade." This, so far as I can gather, takes in the Levant and all east of it. I know he has what they call in trade "houses" in all sorts of places--Turkey, and Greece, and all round them, Morocco, Egypt, and Southern Russia, and the Holy Land; then on to Persia, India, and all round it; the Chersonese, China, Japan, and the Pacific Islands. It is not to be expected that we landowners can know much about trade, but my uncle covers--or alas! I must say "covered"--a lot of ground, I can tell you. Uncle Roger was a very grim sort of man, and only that I was brought up to try and be kind to him I shouldn't ever have dared to speak to him. But when was a child father and mother--especially mother--forced me to go and see him and be affectionate to him. He wasn't ever even civil to me, that I can remember--grumpy old bear! But, then, he never saw Rupert at all, so that I take it Master R--- is out of the running altogether for testamentary honours. The last time I saw him myself he was distinctly rude. He treated me as a boy, though I was getting on for eighteen years of age. I came into his office without knocking; and without looking up from his desk, where he was writing, he said: "Get out! Why do you venture to disturb me when I'm busy? Get out, and be damned to you!" I waited where I was, ready to transfix him with my eye when he should look up, for I cannot forget that when my father dies I shall be Head of my House. But when he did there was no transfixing possible. He said quite coolly: "Oh, it's you, is it? I thought it was one of my office boys. Sit down, if you want to see me, and wait till I am ready." So I sat down and waited. Father always said that I should try to conciliate and please my uncle. Father is a very shrewd man, and Uncle Roger is a very rich one. But I don't think Uncle R--- is as shrewd as he thinks he is. He sometimes makes awful mistakes in business. For instance, some years ago he bought an enormous estate on the Adriatic, in the country they call the "Land of Blue Mountains." At least, he says he bought it. He told father so in confidence. But he didn't show any title-deeds, and I'm greatly afraid he was "had." A bad job for me that he was, for father believes he paid an enormous sum for it, and as I am his natural heir, it reduces his available estate to so much less. And now about Rupert. As I have said, he ran away when he was about fourteen, and we did not hear about him for years. When we--or, rather, my father--did hear of him, it was no good that he heard. He had gone as a cabin-boy on a sailing ship round the Horn. Then he joined an exploring party through the centre of Patagonia, and then another up in Alaska, and a third to the Aleutian Islands. After that he went through Central America, and then to Western Africa, the Pacific Islands, India, and a lot of places. We all know the wisdom of the adage that "A rolling stone gathers no moss"; and certainly, if there be any value in moss, Cousin Rupert will die a poor man. Indeed, nothing will stand his idiotic, boastful wastefulness. Look at the way in which, when he came of age, he made over all his mother's little fortune to the MacSkelpie! I am sure that, though Uncle Roger made no comment to my father, who, as Head of our House, should, of course, have been informed, he was not pleased. My mother, who has a good fortune in her own right, and has had the sense to keep it in her own control--as I am to inherit it, and it is not in the entail, I am therefore quite impartial--I can approve of her spirited conduct in the matter. We never did think much of Rupert, anyhow; but now, since he is in the way to be a pauper, and therefore a dangerous nuisance, we look on him as quite an outsider. We know what he really is. For my own part, I loathe and despise him. Just now we are irritated with him, for we are all kept on tenterhooks regarding my dear Uncle Roger's Will. For Mr. Trent, the attorney who regulated my dear uncle's affairs and has possession of the Will, says it is necessary to know where every possible beneficiary is to be found before making the Will public, so we all have to wait. It is especially hard on me, who am the natural heir. It is very thoughtless indeed of Rupert to keep away like that. I wrote to old MacSkelpie about it, but he didn't seem to understand or to be at all anxious--he is not the heir! He said that probably Rupert Sent Leger--he, too, keeps to the old spelling--did not know of his uncle's death, or he would have taken steps to relieve our anxiety. Our anxiety, forsooth! We are not anxious; we only wish to _know_. And if we--and especially me--who have all the annoyance of thinking of the detestable and unfair death-duties, are anxious, we should be so. Well, anyhow, he'll get a properly bitter disappointment and set down when he does turn up and discovers that he is a pauper without hope! * * * * * To-day we (father and I) had letters from Mr. Trent, telling us that the whereabouts of "Mr. Rupert Sent Leger" had been discovered, and that a letter disclosing the fact of poor Uncle Roger's death had been sent to him. He was at Titicaca when last heard of. So goodness only knows when he may get the letter, which "asks him to come home at once, but only gives to him such information about the Will as has already been given to every member of the testator's family." And that is nil. I dare say we shall be kept waiting for months before we get hold of the estate which is ours. It is too bad! _Letter from Edward Bingham Trent to Ernest Roger Halbard Melton_. 176, LINCOLN'S INN FIELDS, _December_ 28, 1906. DEAR SIR, I am glad to be able to inform you that I have just heard by letter from Mr. Rupert St. Leger that he intended leaving Rio de Janeiro by the S.S. _Amazon_, of the Royal Mail Company, on December 15. He further stated that he would cable just before leaving Rio de Janeiro, to say on what day the ship was expected to arrive in London. As all the others possibly interested in the Will of the late Roger Melton, and whose names are given to me in his instructions regarding the reading of the Will, have been advised, and have expressed their intention of being present at that event on being apprised of the time and place, I now beg to inform you that by cable message received the date scheduled for arrival at the Port of London was January 1 prox. I therefore beg to notify you, subject to postponement due to the non-arrival of the _Amazon_, the reading of the Will of the late Roger Melton, Esq., will take place in my office on Thursday, January 3 prox., at eleven o'clock a.m. I have the honour to be, sir, Yours faithfully, EDWARD BINGHAM TRENT. TO ERNEST ROGER HALBARD MELTON, ESQ., HUMCROFT, SALOP. Cable: _Rupert Sent Leger to Edward Bingham Trent_. _Amazon_ arrives London January 1. SENT LEGER. _Telegram_ (_per Lloyd's_): _Rupert Sent Leger to Edward Bingham Trent_. THE LIZARD, _December_ 31. _Amazon_ arrives London to-morrow morning. All well.--LEGER. _Telegram_: _Edward Bingham Trent to Ernest Roger Halbard Mellon_. Rupert Sent Leger arrived. Reading Will takes place as arranged.--TRENT. ERNEST ROGER HALBARD MELTON'S RECORD. _January_ 4, 1907. The reading of Uncle Roger's Will is over. Father got a duplicate of Mr. Trent's letter to me, and of the cable and two telegrams pasted into this Record. We both waited patiently till the third--that is, we did not say anything. The only impatient member of our family was my mother. She _did_ say things, and if old Trent had been here his ears would have been red. She said what ridiculous nonsense it was delaying the reading of the Will, and keeping the Heir waiting for the arrival of an obscure person who wasn't even a member of the family, inasmuch as he didn't bear the name. I don't think it's quite respectful to one who is some day to be Head of the House! I thought father was weakening in his patience when he said: "True, my dear--true!" and got up and left the room. Some time afterwards when I passed the library I heard him walking up and down. Father and I went up to town on the afternoon of Wednesday, January 2. We stayed, of course, at Claridge's, where we always stay when we go to town. Mother wanted to come, too, but father thought it better not. She would not agree to stay at home till we both promised to send her separate telegrams after the reading. At five minutes to eleven we entered Mr. Trent's office. Father would not go a moment earlier, as he said it was bad form to seem eager at any time, but most of all at the reading of a will. It was a rotten grind, for we had to be walking all over the neighbourhood for half an hour before it was time, not to be too early. When we went into the room we found there General Sir Colin MacKelpie and a big man, very bronzed, whom I took to be Rupert St. Leger--not a very creditable connection to look at, I thought! He and old MacKelpie took care to be in time! Rather low, I thought it. Mr. St. Leger was reading a letter. He had evidently come in but lately, for though he seemed to be eager about it, he was only at the first page, and I could see that there were many sheets. He did not look up when we came in, or till he had finished the letter; and you may be sure that neither I nor my father (who, as Head of the House, should have had more respect from him) took the trouble to go to him. After all, he is a pauper and a wastrel, and he has not the honour of bearing our Name. The General, however, came forward and greeted us both cordially. He evidently had forgotten--or pretended to have--the discourteous way he once treated me, for he spoke to me quite in a friendly way--I thought more warmly than he did to father. I was pleased to be spoken to so nicely, for, after all, whatever his manners may be, he is a distinguished man--has won the V.C. and a Baronetcy. He got the latter not long ago, after the Frontier War in India. I was not, however, led away into cordiality myself. I had not forgotten his rudeness, and I thought that he might be sucking up to me. I knew that when I had my dear Uncle Roger's many millions I should be a rather important person; and, of course, he knew it too. So I got even with him for his former impudence. When he held out his hand I put one finger in it, and said, "How do?" He got very red and turned away. Father and he had ended by glaring at each other, so neither of us was sorry to be done with him. All the time Mr. St. Leger did not seem to see or hear anything, but went on reading his letter. I thought the old MacSkelpie was going to bring him into the matter between us, for as he turned away I heard him say something under his breath. It sounded like "Help!" but Mr. S--- did not hear. He certainly no notice of it. As the MacS--- and Mr. S--- sat quite silent, neither looking at us, and as father was sitting on the other side of the room with his chin in his hand, and as I wanted to show that I was indifferent to the two S's, I took out this notebook, and went on with the Record, bringing it up to this moment. THE RECORD--_Continued_. When I had finished writing I looked over at Rupert. When he saw us, he jumped up and went over to father and shook his hand quite warmly. Father took him very coolly. Rupert, however, did not seem to see it, but came towards me heartily. I happened to be doing something else at the moment, and at first I did not see his hand; but just as I was looking at it the clock struck eleven. Whilst it was striking Mr. Trent came into the room. Close behind him came his clerk, carrying a locked tin box. There were two other men also. He bowed to us all in turn, beginning with me. I was standing opposite the door; the others were scattered about. Father sat still, but Sir Colin and Mr. St. Leger rose. Mr. Trent not did shake hands with any of us--not even me. Nothing but his respectful bow. That is the etiquette for an attorney, I understand, on such formal occasions. He sat down at the end of the big table in the centre of the room, and asked us to sit round. Father, of course, as Head of the Family, took the seat at his right hand. Sir Colin and St. Leger went to the other side, the former taking the seat next to the attorney. The General knows, of course, that a Baronet takes precedence at a ceremony. I may be a Baronet some day myself, and have to know these things. The clerk took the key which his master handed to him, opened the tin box, and took from it a bundle of papers tied with red tape. This he placed before the attorney, and put the empty box behind him on the floor. Then he and the other man sat at the far end of the table; the latter took out a big notebook and several pencils, and put them before him. He was evidently a shorthand-writer. Mr. Trent removed the tape from the bundle of papers, which he placed a little distance in front of him. He took a sealed envelope from the top, broke the seal, opened the envelope, and from it took a parchment, in the folds of which were some sealed envelopes, which he laid in a heap in front of the other paper. Then he unfolded the parchment, and laid it before him with the outside page up. He fixed his glasses, and said: "Gentlemen, the sealed envelope which you have seen me open is endorsed 'My Last Will and Testament--ROGER MELTON, _June_, 1906.' This document"--holding it up--"is as follows: "'I Roger Melton of Openshaw Grange in the County of Dorset; of number one hundred and twenty-three Berkeley Square London; and of the Castle of Vissarion in the Land of the Blue Mountains, being of sound mind do make this my Last Will and Testament on this day Monday the eleventh day of the month of June in the year of Our Lord one thousand nine hundred and six at the office of my old friend and Attorney Edward Bingham Trent in number one hundred and seventy-six Lincoln's Inn Fields London hereby revoking all other wills that I may have formerly made and giving this as my sole and last Will making dispositions of my property as follows: "'1. To my kinsman and nephew Ernest Halbard Melton Esquire, justice of the Peace, Humcroft the County of Salop, for his sole use and benefit the sum of twenty thousand pounds sterling free of all Duties Taxes and charges whatever to be paid out of my Five per centum Bonds of the City of Montreal, Canada. "'2. To my respected friend and colleague as co-trustee to the Will of my late sister Patience late widow of the late Captain Rupert Sent Leger who predeceased her, Major-General Sir Colin Alexander MacKelpie, Baronet, holder of the Victoria Cross, Knight Commander of the Order of the Bath, of Croom in the county of Ross Scotland a sum of Twenty thousand pounds sterling free of all Taxes and charges whatsoever; to be paid out of my Five per centum Bonds of the City of Toronto, Canada. "'3. To Miss Janet MacKelpie presently residing at Croom in the County of Ross Scotland the sum of Twenty thousand pounds sterling free of all Duties Taxes and Charges whatsoever, to be paid out of my Five per centum Bonds of the London County Council. "'4. To the various persons charities and Trustees named in the schedule attached to this Will and marked A. the various sums mentioned therein, all free of Duties and Taxes and charges whatsoever.'" Here Mr. Trent read out the list here following, and announced for our immediate understanding of the situation the total amount as two hundred and fifty thousand pounds. Many of the beneficiaries were old friends, comrades, dependents, and servants, some of them being left

trust

How many times the word 'trust' appears in the text?

you; and if the sword of an old soldier--it is all I have--can ever serve you in any way, it and its master's life are, and shall be, whilst life remains to him, yours. It grieves me to think that Janet cannot, through my act, be given that ease and tranquillity of spirit which come from competence. But, my dear Rupert, you will be of full age in seven years more. Then, if you are in the same mind--and I am sure you will not change--you, being your own master, can do freely as you will. In the meantime, to secure, so far as I can, my dear Janet against any malign stroke of fortune, I have given orders to my factor to remit semi-annually to Janet one full half of such income as may be derived in any form from my estate of Croom. It is, I am sorry to say, heavily mortgaged; but of such as is--or may be, free from such charge as the mortgage entails--something at least will, I trust, remain to her. And, my dear boy, I can frankly say that it is to me a real pleasure that you and I can be linked in one more bond in this association of purpose. I have always held you in my heart as though you were my own son. Let me tell you now that you have acted as I should have liked a son of my own, had I been blessed with one, to have acted. God bless you, my dear. Yours ever, COLIN ALEX. MACKELPIE. _Letter from Roger Melton_, _of Openshaw Grange_, _to Rupert Sent Leger_, _Esq._, 14, _Newland Park_, _Dulwich_, _London_, _S.E._ _July_ 1, 1892. MY DEAR NEPHEW, Your letter of the 30th ult. received. Have carefully considered matter stated, and have come to the conclusion that my duty as a trustee would not allow me to give full consent, as you wish. Let me explain. The testator, in making her will, intended that such fortune as she had at disposal should be used to supply to you her son such benefits as its annual product should procure. To this end, and to provide against wastefulness or foolishness on your part, or, indeed, against any generosity, howsoever worthy, which might impoverish you and so defeat her benevolent intentions regarding your education, comfort, and future good, she did not place the estate directly in your hands, leaving you to do as you might feel inclined about it. But, on the contrary, she entrusted the corpus of it in the hands of men whom she believed should be resolute enough and strong enough to carry out her intent, even against any cajolements or pressure which might be employed to the contrary. It being her intention, then, that such trustees as she appointed would use for your benefit the interest accruing annually from the capital at command, _and that only_ (as specifically directed in the will), so that on your arriving at full age the capital entrusted to us should be handed over to you intact, I find a hard-and-fast duty in the matter of adhering exactly to the directions given. I have no doubt that my co-trustees regard the matter in exactly the same light. Under the circumstances, therefore, we, the trustees, have not only a single and united duty towards you as the object of the testator's wishes, but towards each other as regards the manner of the carrying out of that duty. I take it, therefore, that it would not be consonant with the spirit of the trust or of our own ideas in accepting it that any of us should take a course pleasant to himself which would or might involve a stern opposition on the part of other of the co-trustees. We have each of us to do the unpleasant part of this duty without fear or favour. You understand, of course, that the time which must elapse before you come into absolute possession of your estate is a limited one. As by the terms of the will we are to hand over our trust when you have reached the age of twenty-one, there are only seven years to expire. But till then, though I should gladly meet your wishes if I could, I must adhere to the duty which I have undertaken. At the expiration of that period you will be quite free to divest yourself of your estate without protest or comment of any man. Having now expressed as clearly as I can the limitations by which I am bound with regard to the corpus of your estate, let me say that in any other way which is in my power or discretion I shall be most happy to see your wishes carried out so far as rests with me. Indeed, I shall undertake to use what influence I may possess with my co-trustees to induce them to take a similar view of your wishes. In my own thinking you are quite free to use your own property in your own way. But as, until you shall have attained your majority, you have only life-user in your mother's bequest, you are only at liberty to deal with the annual increment. On our part as trustees we have a first charge on that increment to be used for purposes of your maintenance, clothes, and education. As to what may remain over each half-year, you will be free to deal with it as you choose. On receiving from you a written authorization to your trustees, if you desire the whole sum or any part of it to be paid over to Miss Janet MacKelpie, I shall see that it is effected. Believe me, that our duty is to protect the corpus of the estate, and to this end we may not act on any instruction to imperil it. But there our warranty stops. We can deal during our trusteeship with the corpus only. Further, lest there should arise any error on your part, we can deal with any general instruction for only so long as it may remain unrevoked. You are, and must be, free to alter your instructions or authorizations at any time. Thus your latest document must be used for our guidance. As to the general principle involved in your wish I make no comment. You are at liberty to deal with your own how you will. I quite understand that your impulse is a generous one, and I fully believe that it is in consonance with what had always been the wishes of my sister. Had she been happily alive and had to give judgment of your intent, I am convinced that she would have approved. Therefore, my dear nephew, should you so wish, I shall be happy for her sake as well as your own to pay over on your account (as a confidential matter between you and me), but from my own pocket, a sum equal to that which you wish transferred to Miss Janet MacKelpie. On hearing from you I shall know how to act in the matter. With all good wishes, Believe me to be, Your affectionate uncle, ROGER MELTON. TO RUPERT SENT LEGER, ESQ. _Letter from Rupert Sent Leger to Roger Melton_, _July_ 5, 1892. MY DEAR UNCLE, Thank you heartily for your kind letter. I quite understand, and now see that I should not have asked you as a trustee, such a thing. I see your duty clearly, and agree with your view of it. I enclose a letter directed to my trustees, asking them to pay over annually till further direction to Miss Janet MacKelpie at this address whatever sum may remain over from the interest of my mother's bequest after deduction of such expenses as you may deem fit for my maintenance, clothing, and education, together with a sum of one pound sterling per month, which was the amount my dear mother always gave me for my personal use--"pocket-money," she called it. With regard to your most kind and generous offer to give to my dear Aunt Janet the sum which I would have given myself, had such been in my power, I thank you most truly and sincerely, both for my dear aunt (to whom, of course, I shall not mention the matter unless you specially authorize me) and myself. But, indeed, I think it will be better not to offer it. Aunt Janet is very proud, and would not accept any benefit. With me, of course, it is different, for since I was a wee child she has been like another mother to me, and I love her very much. Since my mother died--and she, of course, was all-in-all to me--there has been no other. And in such a love as ours pride has no place. Thank you again, dear uncle, and God bless you. Your loving nephew, RUPERT SENT LEGER. ERNEST ROGER HALBARD MELTON'S RECORD--_Continued_. And now _re_ the remaining one of Sir Geoffrey's children, Roger. He was the third child and third son, the only daughter, Patience, having been born twenty years after the last of the four sons. Concerning Roger, I shall put down all I have heard of him from my father and grandfather. From my grand-aunt I heard nothing, I was a very small kid when she died; but I remember seeing her, but only once. A very tall, handsome woman of a little over thirty, with very dark hair and light-coloured eyes. I think they were either grey or blue, but I can't remember which. She looked very proud and haughty, but I am bound to say that she was very nice to me. I remember feeling very jealous of Rupert because his mother looked so distinguished. Rupert was eight years older than me, and I was afraid he would beat me if I said anything he did not like. So I was silent except when I forgot to be, and Rupert said very unkindly, and I think very unfairly, that I was "A sulky little beast." I haven't forgot that, and I don't mean to. However, it doesn't matter much what he said or thought. There he is--if he is at all--where no one can find him, with no money or nothing, for what little he had he settled when he came of age, on the MacSkelpie. He wanted to give it to her when his mother died, but father, who was a trustee, refused; and Uncle Roger, as I call him, who is another, thought the trustees had no power to allow Rupert to throw away his matrimony, as I called it, making a joke to father when he called it patrimony. Old Sir Colin MacSkelpie, who is the third, said he couldn't take any part in such a permission, as the MacSkelpie was his niece. He is a rude old man, that. I remember when, not remembering his relationship, I spoke of the MacSkelpie, he caught me a clip on the ear that sent me across the room. His Scotch is very broad. I can hear him say, "Hae some attempt at even Soothern manners, and dinna misca' yer betters, ye young puddock, or I'll wring yer snoot!" Father was, I could see, very much offended, but he didn't say anything. He remembered, I think, that the General is a V.C. man, and was fond of fighting duels. But to show that the fault was not his, _he_ wrung _my_ ear--and the same ear too! I suppose he thought that was justice! But it's only right to say that he made up for it afterwards. When the General had gone he gave me a five-pound note. I don't think Uncle Roger was very pleased with the way Rupert behaved about the legacy, for I don't think he ever saw him from that day to this. Perhaps, of course, it was because Rupert ran away shortly afterwards; but I shall tell about that when I come to him. After all, why should my uncle bother about him? He is not a Melton at all, and I am to be Head of the House--of course, when the Lord thinks right to take father to Himself! Uncle Roger has tons of money, and he never married, so if he wants to leave it in the right direction he needn't have any trouble. He made his money in what he calls "the Eastern Trade." This, so far as I can gather, takes in the Levant and all east of it. I know he has what they call in trade "houses" in all sorts of places--Turkey, and Greece, and all round them, Morocco, Egypt, and Southern Russia, and the Holy Land; then on to Persia, India, and all round it; the Chersonese, China, Japan, and the Pacific Islands. It is not to be expected that we landowners can know much about trade, but my uncle covers--or alas! I must say "covered"--a lot of ground, I can tell you. Uncle Roger was a very grim sort of man, and only that I was brought up to try and be kind to him I shouldn't ever have dared to speak to him. But when was a child father and mother--especially mother--forced me to go and see him and be affectionate to him. He wasn't ever even civil to me, that I can remember--grumpy old bear! But, then, he never saw Rupert at all, so that I take it Master R--- is out of the running altogether for testamentary honours. The last time I saw him myself he was distinctly rude. He treated me as a boy, though I was getting on for eighteen years of age. I came into his office without knocking; and without looking up from his desk, where he was writing, he said: "Get out! Why do you venture to disturb me when I'm busy? Get out, and be damned to you!" I waited where I was, ready to transfix him with my eye when he should look up, for I cannot forget that when my father dies I shall be Head of my House. But when he did there was no transfixing possible. He said quite coolly: "Oh, it's you, is it? I thought it was one of my office boys. Sit down, if you want to see me, and wait till I am ready." So I sat down and waited. Father always said that I should try to conciliate and please my uncle. Father is a very shrewd man, and Uncle Roger is a very rich one. But I don't think Uncle R--- is as shrewd as he thinks he is. He sometimes makes awful mistakes in business. For instance, some years ago he bought an enormous estate on the Adriatic, in the country they call the "Land of Blue Mountains." At least, he says he bought it. He told father so in confidence. But he didn't show any title-deeds, and I'm greatly afraid he was "had." A bad job for me that he was, for father believes he paid an enormous sum for it, and as I am his natural heir, it reduces his available estate to so much less. And now about Rupert. As I have said, he ran away when he was about fourteen, and we did not hear about him for years. When we--or, rather, my father--did hear of him, it was no good that he heard. He had gone as a cabin-boy on a sailing ship round the Horn. Then he joined an exploring party through the centre of Patagonia, and then another up in Alaska, and a third to the Aleutian Islands. After that he went through Central America, and then to Western Africa, the Pacific Islands, India, and a lot of places. We all know the wisdom of the adage that "A rolling stone gathers no moss"; and certainly, if there be any value in moss, Cousin Rupert will die a poor man. Indeed, nothing will stand his idiotic, boastful wastefulness. Look at the way in which, when he came of age, he made over all his mother's little fortune to the MacSkelpie! I am sure that, though Uncle Roger made no comment to my father, who, as Head of our House, should, of course, have been informed, he was not pleased. My mother, who has a good fortune in her own right, and has had the sense to keep it in her own control--as I am to inherit it, and it is not in the entail, I am therefore quite impartial--I can approve of her spirited conduct in the matter. We never did think much of Rupert, anyhow; but now, since he is in the way to be a pauper, and therefore a dangerous nuisance, we look on him as quite an outsider. We know what he really is. For my own part, I loathe and despise him. Just now we are irritated with him, for we are all kept on tenterhooks regarding my dear Uncle Roger's Will. For Mr. Trent, the attorney who regulated my dear uncle's affairs and has possession of the Will, says it is necessary to know where every possible beneficiary is to be found before making the Will public, so we all have to wait. It is especially hard on me, who am the natural heir. It is very thoughtless indeed of Rupert to keep away like that. I wrote to old MacSkelpie about it, but he didn't seem to understand or to be at all anxious--he is not the heir! He said that probably Rupert Sent Leger--he, too, keeps to the old spelling--did not know of his uncle's death, or he would have taken steps to relieve our anxiety. Our anxiety, forsooth! We are not anxious; we only wish to _know_. And if we--and especially me--who have all the annoyance of thinking of the detestable and unfair death-duties, are anxious, we should be so. Well, anyhow, he'll get a properly bitter disappointment and set down when he does turn up and discovers that he is a pauper without hope! * * * * * To-day we (father and I) had letters from Mr. Trent, telling us that the whereabouts of "Mr. Rupert Sent Leger" had been discovered, and that a letter disclosing the fact of poor Uncle Roger's death had been sent to him. He was at Titicaca when last heard of. So goodness only knows when he may get the letter, which "asks him to come home at once, but only gives to him such information about the Will as has already been given to every member of the testator's family." And that is nil. I dare say we shall be kept waiting for months before we get hold of the estate which is ours. It is too bad! _Letter from Edward Bingham Trent to Ernest Roger Halbard Melton_. 176, LINCOLN'S INN FIELDS, _December_ 28, 1906. DEAR SIR, I am glad to be able to inform you that I have just heard by letter from Mr. Rupert St. Leger that he intended leaving Rio de Janeiro by the S.S. _Amazon_, of the Royal Mail Company, on December 15. He further stated that he would cable just before leaving Rio de Janeiro, to say on what day the ship was expected to arrive in London. As all the others possibly interested in the Will of the late Roger Melton, and whose names are given to me in his instructions regarding the reading of the Will, have been advised, and have expressed their intention of being present at that event on being apprised of the time and place, I now beg to inform you that by cable message received the date scheduled for arrival at the Port of London was January 1 prox. I therefore beg to notify you, subject to postponement due to the non-arrival of the _Amazon_, the reading of the Will of the late Roger Melton, Esq., will take place in my office on Thursday, January 3 prox., at eleven o'clock a.m. I have the honour to be, sir, Yours faithfully, EDWARD BINGHAM TRENT. TO ERNEST ROGER HALBARD MELTON, ESQ., HUMCROFT, SALOP. Cable: _Rupert Sent Leger to Edward Bingham Trent_. _Amazon_ arrives London January 1. SENT LEGER. _Telegram_ (_per Lloyd's_): _Rupert Sent Leger to Edward Bingham Trent_. THE LIZARD, _December_ 31. _Amazon_ arrives London to-morrow morning. All well.--LEGER. _Telegram_: _Edward Bingham Trent to Ernest Roger Halbard Mellon_. Rupert Sent Leger arrived. Reading Will takes place as arranged.--TRENT. ERNEST ROGER HALBARD MELTON'S RECORD. _January_ 4, 1907. The reading of Uncle Roger's Will is over. Father got a duplicate of Mr. Trent's letter to me, and of the cable and two telegrams pasted into this Record. We both waited patiently till the third--that is, we did not say anything. The only impatient member of our family was my mother. She _did_ say things, and if old Trent had been here his ears would have been red. She said what ridiculous nonsense it was delaying the reading of the Will, and keeping the Heir waiting for the arrival of an obscure person who wasn't even a member of the family, inasmuch as he didn't bear the name. I don't think it's quite respectful to one who is some day to be Head of the House! I thought father was weakening in his patience when he said: "True, my dear--true!" and got up and left the room. Some time afterwards when I passed the library I heard him walking up and down. Father and I went up to town on the afternoon of Wednesday, January 2. We stayed, of course, at Claridge's, where we always stay when we go to town. Mother wanted to come, too, but father thought it better not. She would not agree to stay at home till we both promised to send her separate telegrams after the reading. At five minutes to eleven we entered Mr. Trent's office. Father would not go a moment earlier, as he said it was bad form to seem eager at any time, but most of all at the reading of a will. It was a rotten grind, for we had to be walking all over the neighbourhood for half an hour before it was time, not to be too early. When we went into the room we found there General Sir Colin MacKelpie and a big man, very bronzed, whom I took to be Rupert St. Leger--not a very creditable connection to look at, I thought! He and old MacKelpie took care to be in time! Rather low, I thought it. Mr. St. Leger was reading a letter. He had evidently come in but lately, for though he seemed to be eager about it, he was only at the first page, and I could see that there were many sheets. He did not look up when we came in, or till he had finished the letter; and you may be sure that neither I nor my father (who, as Head of the House, should have had more respect from him) took the trouble to go to him. After all, he is a pauper and a wastrel, and he has not the honour of bearing our Name. The General, however, came forward and greeted us both cordially. He evidently had forgotten--or pretended to have--the discourteous way he once treated me, for he spoke to me quite in a friendly way--I thought more warmly than he did to father. I was pleased to be spoken to so nicely, for, after all, whatever his manners may be, he is a distinguished man--has won the V.C. and a Baronetcy. He got the latter not long ago, after the Frontier War in India. I was not, however, led away into cordiality myself. I had not forgotten his rudeness, and I thought that he might be sucking up to me. I knew that when I had my dear Uncle Roger's many millions I should be a rather important person; and, of course, he knew it too. So I got even with him for his former impudence. When he held out his hand I put one finger in it, and said, "How do?" He got very red and turned away. Father and he had ended by glaring at each other, so neither of us was sorry to be done with him. All the time Mr. St. Leger did not seem to see or hear anything, but went on reading his letter. I thought the old MacSkelpie was going to bring him into the matter between us, for as he turned away I heard him say something under his breath. It sounded like "Help!" but Mr. S--- did not hear. He certainly no notice of it. As the MacS--- and Mr. S--- sat quite silent, neither looking at us, and as father was sitting on the other side of the room with his chin in his hand, and as I wanted to show that I was indifferent to the two S's, I took out this notebook, and went on with the Record, bringing it up to this moment. THE RECORD--_Continued_. When I had finished writing I looked over at Rupert. When he saw us, he jumped up and went over to father and shook his hand quite warmly. Father took him very coolly. Rupert, however, did not seem to see it, but came towards me heartily. I happened to be doing something else at the moment, and at first I did not see his hand; but just as I was looking at it the clock struck eleven. Whilst it was striking Mr. Trent came into the room. Close behind him came his clerk, carrying a locked tin box. There were two other men also. He bowed to us all in turn, beginning with me. I was standing opposite the door; the others were scattered about. Father sat still, but Sir Colin and Mr. St. Leger rose. Mr. Trent not did shake hands with any of us--not even me. Nothing but his respectful bow. That is the etiquette for an attorney, I understand, on such formal occasions. He sat down at the end of the big table in the centre of the room, and asked us to sit round. Father, of course, as Head of the Family, took the seat at his right hand. Sir Colin and St. Leger went to the other side, the former taking the seat next to the attorney. The General knows, of course, that a Baronet takes precedence at a ceremony. I may be a Baronet some day myself, and have to know these things. The clerk took the key which his master handed to him, opened the tin box, and took from it a bundle of papers tied with red tape. This he placed before the attorney, and put the empty box behind him on the floor. Then he and the other man sat at the far end of the table; the latter took out a big notebook and several pencils, and put them before him. He was evidently a shorthand-writer. Mr. Trent removed the tape from the bundle of papers, which he placed a little distance in front of him. He took a sealed envelope from the top, broke the seal, opened the envelope, and from it took a parchment, in the folds of which were some sealed envelopes, which he laid in a heap in front of the other paper. Then he unfolded the parchment, and laid it before him with the outside page up. He fixed his glasses, and said: "Gentlemen, the sealed envelope which you have seen me open is endorsed 'My Last Will and Testament--ROGER MELTON, _June_, 1906.' This document"--holding it up--"is as follows: "'I Roger Melton of Openshaw Grange in the County of Dorset; of number one hundred and twenty-three Berkeley Square London; and of the Castle of Vissarion in the Land of the Blue Mountains, being of sound mind do make this my Last Will and Testament on this day Monday the eleventh day of the month of June in the year of Our Lord one thousand nine hundred and six at the office of my old friend and Attorney Edward Bingham Trent in number one hundred and seventy-six Lincoln's Inn Fields London hereby revoking all other wills that I may have formerly made and giving this as my sole and last Will making dispositions of my property as follows: "'1. To my kinsman and nephew Ernest Halbard Melton Esquire, justice of the Peace, Humcroft the County of Salop, for his sole use and benefit the sum of twenty thousand pounds sterling free of all Duties Taxes and charges whatever to be paid out of my Five per centum Bonds of the City of Montreal, Canada. "'2. To my respected friend and colleague as co-trustee to the Will of my late sister Patience late widow of the late Captain Rupert Sent Leger who predeceased her, Major-General Sir Colin Alexander MacKelpie, Baronet, holder of the Victoria Cross, Knight Commander of the Order of the Bath, of Croom in the county of Ross Scotland a sum of Twenty thousand pounds sterling free of all Taxes and charges whatsoever; to be paid out of my Five per centum Bonds of the City of Toronto, Canada. "'3. To Miss Janet MacKelpie presently residing at Croom in the County of Ross Scotland the sum of Twenty thousand pounds sterling free of all Duties Taxes and Charges whatsoever, to be paid out of my Five per centum Bonds of the London County Council. "'4. To the various persons charities and Trustees named in the schedule attached to this Will and marked A. the various sums mentioned therein, all free of Duties and Taxes and charges whatsoever.'" Here Mr. Trent read out the list here following, and announced for our immediate understanding of the situation the total amount as two hundred and fifty thousand pounds. Many of the beneficiaries were old friends, comrades, dependents, and servants, some of them being left

newland

How many times the word 'newland' appears in the text?

you; and if the sword of an old soldier--it is all I have--can ever serve you in any way, it and its master's life are, and shall be, whilst life remains to him, yours. It grieves me to think that Janet cannot, through my act, be given that ease and tranquillity of spirit which come from competence. But, my dear Rupert, you will be of full age in seven years more. Then, if you are in the same mind--and I am sure you will not change--you, being your own master, can do freely as you will. In the meantime, to secure, so far as I can, my dear Janet against any malign stroke of fortune, I have given orders to my factor to remit semi-annually to Janet one full half of such income as may be derived in any form from my estate of Croom. It is, I am sorry to say, heavily mortgaged; but of such as is--or may be, free from such charge as the mortgage entails--something at least will, I trust, remain to her. And, my dear boy, I can frankly say that it is to me a real pleasure that you and I can be linked in one more bond in this association of purpose. I have always held you in my heart as though you were my own son. Let me tell you now that you have acted as I should have liked a son of my own, had I been blessed with one, to have acted. God bless you, my dear. Yours ever, COLIN ALEX. MACKELPIE. _Letter from Roger Melton_, _of Openshaw Grange_, _to Rupert Sent Leger_, _Esq._, 14, _Newland Park_, _Dulwich_, _London_, _S.E._ _July_ 1, 1892. MY DEAR NEPHEW, Your letter of the 30th ult. received. Have carefully considered matter stated, and have come to the conclusion that my duty as a trustee would not allow me to give full consent, as you wish. Let me explain. The testator, in making her will, intended that such fortune as she had at disposal should be used to supply to you her son such benefits as its annual product should procure. To this end, and to provide against wastefulness or foolishness on your part, or, indeed, against any generosity, howsoever worthy, which might impoverish you and so defeat her benevolent intentions regarding your education, comfort, and future good, she did not place the estate directly in your hands, leaving you to do as you might feel inclined about it. But, on the contrary, she entrusted the corpus of it in the hands of men whom she believed should be resolute enough and strong enough to carry out her intent, even against any cajolements or pressure which might be employed to the contrary. It being her intention, then, that such trustees as she appointed would use for your benefit the interest accruing annually from the capital at command, _and that only_ (as specifically directed in the will), so that on your arriving at full age the capital entrusted to us should be handed over to you intact, I find a hard-and-fast duty in the matter of adhering exactly to the directions given. I have no doubt that my co-trustees regard the matter in exactly the same light. Under the circumstances, therefore, we, the trustees, have not only a single and united duty towards you as the object of the testator's wishes, but towards each other as regards the manner of the carrying out of that duty. I take it, therefore, that it would not be consonant with the spirit of the trust or of our own ideas in accepting it that any of us should take a course pleasant to himself which would or might involve a stern opposition on the part of other of the co-trustees. We have each of us to do the unpleasant part of this duty without fear or favour. You understand, of course, that the time which must elapse before you come into absolute possession of your estate is a limited one. As by the terms of the will we are to hand over our trust when you have reached the age of twenty-one, there are only seven years to expire. But till then, though I should gladly meet your wishes if I could, I must adhere to the duty which I have undertaken. At the expiration of that period you will be quite free to divest yourself of your estate without protest or comment of any man. Having now expressed as clearly as I can the limitations by which I am bound with regard to the corpus of your estate, let me say that in any other way which is in my power or discretion I shall be most happy to see your wishes carried out so far as rests with me. Indeed, I shall undertake to use what influence I may possess with my co-trustees to induce them to take a similar view of your wishes. In my own thinking you are quite free to use your own property in your own way. But as, until you shall have attained your majority, you have only life-user in your mother's bequest, you are only at liberty to deal with the annual increment. On our part as trustees we have a first charge on that increment to be used for purposes of your maintenance, clothes, and education. As to what may remain over each half-year, you will be free to deal with it as you choose. On receiving from you a written authorization to your trustees, if you desire the whole sum or any part of it to be paid over to Miss Janet MacKelpie, I shall see that it is effected. Believe me, that our duty is to protect the corpus of the estate, and to this end we may not act on any instruction to imperil it. But there our warranty stops. We can deal during our trusteeship with the corpus only. Further, lest there should arise any error on your part, we can deal with any general instruction for only so long as it may remain unrevoked. You are, and must be, free to alter your instructions or authorizations at any time. Thus your latest document must be used for our guidance. As to the general principle involved in your wish I make no comment. You are at liberty to deal with your own how you will. I quite understand that your impulse is a generous one, and I fully believe that it is in consonance with what had always been the wishes of my sister. Had she been happily alive and had to give judgment of your intent, I am convinced that she would have approved. Therefore, my dear nephew, should you so wish, I shall be happy for her sake as well as your own to pay over on your account (as a confidential matter between you and me), but from my own pocket, a sum equal to that which you wish transferred to Miss Janet MacKelpie. On hearing from you I shall know how to act in the matter. With all good wishes, Believe me to be, Your affectionate uncle, ROGER MELTON. TO RUPERT SENT LEGER, ESQ. _Letter from Rupert Sent Leger to Roger Melton_, _July_ 5, 1892. MY DEAR UNCLE, Thank you heartily for your kind letter. I quite understand, and now see that I should not have asked you as a trustee, such a thing. I see your duty clearly, and agree with your view of it. I enclose a letter directed to my trustees, asking them to pay over annually till further direction to Miss Janet MacKelpie at this address whatever sum may remain over from the interest of my mother's bequest after deduction of such expenses as you may deem fit for my maintenance, clothing, and education, together with a sum of one pound sterling per month, which was the amount my dear mother always gave me for my personal use--"pocket-money," she called it. With regard to your most kind and generous offer to give to my dear Aunt Janet the sum which I would have given myself, had such been in my power, I thank you most truly and sincerely, both for my dear aunt (to whom, of course, I shall not mention the matter unless you specially authorize me) and myself. But, indeed, I think it will be better not to offer it. Aunt Janet is very proud, and would not accept any benefit. With me, of course, it is different, for since I was a wee child she has been like another mother to me, and I love her very much. Since my mother died--and she, of course, was all-in-all to me--there has been no other. And in such a love as ours pride has no place. Thank you again, dear uncle, and God bless you. Your loving nephew, RUPERT SENT LEGER. ERNEST ROGER HALBARD MELTON'S RECORD--_Continued_. And now _re_ the remaining one of Sir Geoffrey's children, Roger. He was the third child and third son, the only daughter, Patience, having been born twenty years after the last of the four sons. Concerning Roger, I shall put down all I have heard of him from my father and grandfather. From my grand-aunt I heard nothing, I was a very small kid when she died; but I remember seeing her, but only once. A very tall, handsome woman of a little over thirty, with very dark hair and light-coloured eyes. I think they were either grey or blue, but I can't remember which. She looked very proud and haughty, but I am bound to say that she was very nice to me. I remember feeling very jealous of Rupert because his mother looked so distinguished. Rupert was eight years older than me, and I was afraid he would beat me if I said anything he did not like. So I was silent except when I forgot to be, and Rupert said very unkindly, and I think very unfairly, that I was "A sulky little beast." I haven't forgot that, and I don't mean to. However, it doesn't matter much what he said or thought. There he is--if he is at all--where no one can find him, with no money or nothing, for what little he had he settled when he came of age, on the MacSkelpie. He wanted to give it to her when his mother died, but father, who was a trustee, refused; and Uncle Roger, as I call him, who is another, thought the trustees had no power to allow Rupert to throw away his matrimony, as I called it, making a joke to father when he called it patrimony. Old Sir Colin MacSkelpie, who is the third, said he couldn't take any part in such a permission, as the MacSkelpie was his niece. He is a rude old man, that. I remember when, not remembering his relationship, I spoke of the MacSkelpie, he caught me a clip on the ear that sent me across the room. His Scotch is very broad. I can hear him say, "Hae some attempt at even Soothern manners, and dinna misca' yer betters, ye young puddock, or I'll wring yer snoot!" Father was, I could see, very much offended, but he didn't say anything. He remembered, I think, that the General is a V.C. man, and was fond of fighting duels. But to show that the fault was not his, _he_ wrung _my_ ear--and the same ear too! I suppose he thought that was justice! But it's only right to say that he made up for it afterwards. When the General had gone he gave me a five-pound note. I don't think Uncle Roger was very pleased with the way Rupert behaved about the legacy, for I don't think he ever saw him from that day to this. Perhaps, of course, it was because Rupert ran away shortly afterwards; but I shall tell about that when I come to him. After all, why should my uncle bother about him? He is not a Melton at all, and I am to be Head of the House--of course, when the Lord thinks right to take father to Himself! Uncle Roger has tons of money, and he never married, so if he wants to leave it in the right direction he needn't have any trouble. He made his money in what he calls "the Eastern Trade." This, so far as I can gather, takes in the Levant and all east of it. I know he has what they call in trade "houses" in all sorts of places--Turkey, and Greece, and all round them, Morocco, Egypt, and Southern Russia, and the Holy Land; then on to Persia, India, and all round it; the Chersonese, China, Japan, and the Pacific Islands. It is not to be expected that we landowners can know much about trade, but my uncle covers--or alas! I must say "covered"--a lot of ground, I can tell you. Uncle Roger was a very grim sort of man, and only that I was brought up to try and be kind to him I shouldn't ever have dared to speak to him. But when was a child father and mother--especially mother--forced me to go and see him and be affectionate to him. He wasn't ever even civil to me, that I can remember--grumpy old bear! But, then, he never saw Rupert at all, so that I take it Master R--- is out of the running altogether for testamentary honours. The last time I saw him myself he was distinctly rude. He treated me as a boy, though I was getting on for eighteen years of age. I came into his office without knocking; and without looking up from his desk, where he was writing, he said: "Get out! Why do you venture to disturb me when I'm busy? Get out, and be damned to you!" I waited where I was, ready to transfix him with my eye when he should look up, for I cannot forget that when my father dies I shall be Head of my House. But when he did there was no transfixing possible. He said quite coolly: "Oh, it's you, is it? I thought it was one of my office boys. Sit down, if you want to see me, and wait till I am ready." So I sat down and waited. Father always said that I should try to conciliate and please my uncle. Father is a very shrewd man, and Uncle Roger is a very rich one. But I don't think Uncle R--- is as shrewd as he thinks he is. He sometimes makes awful mistakes in business. For instance, some years ago he bought an enormous estate on the Adriatic, in the country they call the "Land of Blue Mountains." At least, he says he bought it. He told father so in confidence. But he didn't show any title-deeds, and I'm greatly afraid he was "had." A bad job for me that he was, for father believes he paid an enormous sum for it, and as I am his natural heir, it reduces his available estate to so much less. And now about Rupert. As I have said, he ran away when he was about fourteen, and we did not hear about him for years. When we--or, rather, my father--did hear of him, it was no good that he heard. He had gone as a cabin-boy on a sailing ship round the Horn. Then he joined an exploring party through the centre of Patagonia, and then another up in Alaska, and a third to the Aleutian Islands. After that he went through Central America, and then to Western Africa, the Pacific Islands, India, and a lot of places. We all know the wisdom of the adage that "A rolling stone gathers no moss"; and certainly, if there be any value in moss, Cousin Rupert will die a poor man. Indeed, nothing will stand his idiotic, boastful wastefulness. Look at the way in which, when he came of age, he made over all his mother's little fortune to the MacSkelpie! I am sure that, though Uncle Roger made no comment to my father, who, as Head of our House, should, of course, have been informed, he was not pleased. My mother, who has a good fortune in her own right, and has had the sense to keep it in her own control--as I am to inherit it, and it is not in the entail, I am therefore quite impartial--I can approve of her spirited conduct in the matter. We never did think much of Rupert, anyhow; but now, since he is in the way to be a pauper, and therefore a dangerous nuisance, we look on him as quite an outsider. We know what he really is. For my own part, I loathe and despise him. Just now we are irritated with him, for we are all kept on tenterhooks regarding my dear Uncle Roger's Will. For Mr. Trent, the attorney who regulated my dear uncle's affairs and has possession of the Will, says it is necessary to know where every possible beneficiary is to be found before making the Will public, so we all have to wait. It is especially hard on me, who am the natural heir. It is very thoughtless indeed of Rupert to keep away like that. I wrote to old MacSkelpie about it, but he didn't seem to understand or to be at all anxious--he is not the heir! He said that probably Rupert Sent Leger--he, too, keeps to the old spelling--did not know of his uncle's death, or he would have taken steps to relieve our anxiety. Our anxiety, forsooth! We are not anxious; we only wish to _know_. And if we--and especially me--who have all the annoyance of thinking of the detestable and unfair death-duties, are anxious, we should be so. Well, anyhow, he'll get a properly bitter disappointment and set down when he does turn up and discovers that he is a pauper without hope! * * * * * To-day we (father and I) had letters from Mr. Trent, telling us that the whereabouts of "Mr. Rupert Sent Leger" had been discovered, and that a letter disclosing the fact of poor Uncle Roger's death had been sent to him. He was at Titicaca when last heard of. So goodness only knows when he may get the letter, which "asks him to come home at once, but only gives to him such information about the Will as has already been given to every member of the testator's family." And that is nil. I dare say we shall be kept waiting for months before we get hold of the estate which is ours. It is too bad! _Letter from Edward Bingham Trent to Ernest Roger Halbard Melton_. 176, LINCOLN'S INN FIELDS, _December_ 28, 1906. DEAR SIR, I am glad to be able to inform you that I have just heard by letter from Mr. Rupert St. Leger that he intended leaving Rio de Janeiro by the S.S. _Amazon_, of the Royal Mail Company, on December 15. He further stated that he would cable just before leaving Rio de Janeiro, to say on what day the ship was expected to arrive in London. As all the others possibly interested in the Will of the late Roger Melton, and whose names are given to me in his instructions regarding the reading of the Will, have been advised, and have expressed their intention of being present at that event on being apprised of the time and place, I now beg to inform you that by cable message received the date scheduled for arrival at the Port of London was January 1 prox. I therefore beg to notify you, subject to postponement due to the non-arrival of the _Amazon_, the reading of the Will of the late Roger Melton, Esq., will take place in my office on Thursday, January 3 prox., at eleven o'clock a.m. I have the honour to be, sir, Yours faithfully, EDWARD BINGHAM TRENT. TO ERNEST ROGER HALBARD MELTON, ESQ., HUMCROFT, SALOP. Cable: _Rupert Sent Leger to Edward Bingham Trent_. _Amazon_ arrives London January 1. SENT LEGER. _Telegram_ (_per Lloyd's_): _Rupert Sent Leger to Edward Bingham Trent_. THE LIZARD, _December_ 31. _Amazon_ arrives London to-morrow morning. All well.--LEGER. _Telegram_: _Edward Bingham Trent to Ernest Roger Halbard Mellon_. Rupert Sent Leger arrived. Reading Will takes place as arranged.--TRENT. ERNEST ROGER HALBARD MELTON'S RECORD. _January_ 4, 1907. The reading of Uncle Roger's Will is over. Father got a duplicate of Mr. Trent's letter to me, and of the cable and two telegrams pasted into this Record. We both waited patiently till the third--that is, we did not say anything. The only impatient member of our family was my mother. She _did_ say things, and if old Trent had been here his ears would have been red. She said what ridiculous nonsense it was delaying the reading of the Will, and keeping the Heir waiting for the arrival of an obscure person who wasn't even a member of the family, inasmuch as he didn't bear the name. I don't think it's quite respectful to one who is some day to be Head of the House! I thought father was weakening in his patience when he said: "True, my dear--true!" and got up and left the room. Some time afterwards when I passed the library I heard him walking up and down. Father and I went up to town on the afternoon of Wednesday, January 2. We stayed, of course, at Claridge's, where we always stay when we go to town. Mother wanted to come, too, but father thought it better not. She would not agree to stay at home till we both promised to send her separate telegrams after the reading. At five minutes to eleven we entered Mr. Trent's office. Father would not go a moment earlier, as he said it was bad form to seem eager at any time, but most of all at the reading of a will. It was a rotten grind, for we had to be walking all over the neighbourhood for half an hour before it was time, not to be too early. When we went into the room we found there General Sir Colin MacKelpie and a big man, very bronzed, whom I took to be Rupert St. Leger--not a very creditable connection to look at, I thought! He and old MacKelpie took care to be in time! Rather low, I thought it. Mr. St. Leger was reading a letter. He had evidently come in but lately, for though he seemed to be eager about it, he was only at the first page, and I could see that there were many sheets. He did not look up when we came in, or till he had finished the letter; and you may be sure that neither I nor my father (who, as Head of the House, should have had more respect from him) took the trouble to go to him. After all, he is a pauper and a wastrel, and he has not the honour of bearing our Name. The General, however, came forward and greeted us both cordially. He evidently had forgotten--or pretended to have--the discourteous way he once treated me, for he spoke to me quite in a friendly way--I thought more warmly than he did to father. I was pleased to be spoken to so nicely, for, after all, whatever his manners may be, he is a distinguished man--has won the V.C. and a Baronetcy. He got the latter not long ago, after the Frontier War in India. I was not, however, led away into cordiality myself. I had not forgotten his rudeness, and I thought that he might be sucking up to me. I knew that when I had my dear Uncle Roger's many millions I should be a rather important person; and, of course, he knew it too. So I got even with him for his former impudence. When he held out his hand I put one finger in it, and said, "How do?" He got very red and turned away. Father and he had ended by glaring at each other, so neither of us was sorry to be done with him. All the time Mr. St. Leger did not seem to see or hear anything, but went on reading his letter. I thought the old MacSkelpie was going to bring him into the matter between us, for as he turned away I heard him say something under his breath. It sounded like "Help!" but Mr. S--- did not hear. He certainly no notice of it. As the MacS--- and Mr. S--- sat quite silent, neither looking at us, and as father was sitting on the other side of the room with his chin in his hand, and as I wanted to show that I was indifferent to the two S's, I took out this notebook, and went on with the Record, bringing it up to this moment. THE RECORD--_Continued_. When I had finished writing I looked over at Rupert. When he saw us, he jumped up and went over to father and shook his hand quite warmly. Father took him very coolly. Rupert, however, did not seem to see it, but came towards me heartily. I happened to be doing something else at the moment, and at first I did not see his hand; but just as I was looking at it the clock struck eleven. Whilst it was striking Mr. Trent came into the room. Close behind him came his clerk, carrying a locked tin box. There were two other men also. He bowed to us all in turn, beginning with me. I was standing opposite the door; the others were scattered about. Father sat still, but Sir Colin and Mr. St. Leger rose. Mr. Trent not did shake hands with any of us--not even me. Nothing but his respectful bow. That is the etiquette for an attorney, I understand, on such formal occasions. He sat down at the end of the big table in the centre of the room, and asked us to sit round. Father, of course, as Head of the Family, took the seat at his right hand. Sir Colin and St. Leger went to the other side, the former taking the seat next to the attorney. The General knows, of course, that a Baronet takes precedence at a ceremony. I may be a Baronet some day myself, and have to know these things. The clerk took the key which his master handed to him, opened the tin box, and took from it a bundle of papers tied with red tape. This he placed before the attorney, and put the empty box behind him on the floor. Then he and the other man sat at the far end of the table; the latter took out a big notebook and several pencils, and put them before him. He was evidently a shorthand-writer. Mr. Trent removed the tape from the bundle of papers, which he placed a little distance in front of him. He took a sealed envelope from the top, broke the seal, opened the envelope, and from it took a parchment, in the folds of which were some sealed envelopes, which he laid in a heap in front of the other paper. Then he unfolded the parchment, and laid it before him with the outside page up. He fixed his glasses, and said: "Gentlemen, the sealed envelope which you have seen me open is endorsed 'My Last Will and Testament--ROGER MELTON, _June_, 1906.' This document"--holding it up--"is as follows: "'I Roger Melton of Openshaw Grange in the County of Dorset; of number one hundred and twenty-three Berkeley Square London; and of the Castle of Vissarion in the Land of the Blue Mountains, being of sound mind do make this my Last Will and Testament on this day Monday the eleventh day of the month of June in the year of Our Lord one thousand nine hundred and six at the office of my old friend and Attorney Edward Bingham Trent in number one hundred and seventy-six Lincoln's Inn Fields London hereby revoking all other wills that I may have formerly made and giving this as my sole and last Will making dispositions of my property as follows: "'1. To my kinsman and nephew Ernest Halbard Melton Esquire, justice of the Peace, Humcroft the County of Salop, for his sole use and benefit the sum of twenty thousand pounds sterling free of all Duties Taxes and charges whatever to be paid out of my Five per centum Bonds of the City of Montreal, Canada. "'2. To my respected friend and colleague as co-trustee to the Will of my late sister Patience late widow of the late Captain Rupert Sent Leger who predeceased her, Major-General Sir Colin Alexander MacKelpie, Baronet, holder of the Victoria Cross, Knight Commander of the Order of the Bath, of Croom in the county of Ross Scotland a sum of Twenty thousand pounds sterling free of all Taxes and charges whatsoever; to be paid out of my Five per centum Bonds of the City of Toronto, Canada. "'3. To Miss Janet MacKelpie presently residing at Croom in the County of Ross Scotland the sum of Twenty thousand pounds sterling free of all Duties Taxes and Charges whatsoever, to be paid out of my Five per centum Bonds of the London County Council. "'4. To the various persons charities and Trustees named in the schedule attached to this Will and marked A. the various sums mentioned therein, all free of Duties and Taxes and charges whatsoever.'" Here Mr. Trent read out the list here following, and announced for our immediate understanding of the situation the total amount as two hundred and fifty thousand pounds. Many of the beneficiaries were old friends, comrades, dependents, and servants, some of them being left

love

How many times the word 'love' appears in the text?

you; and if the sword of an old soldier--it is all I have--can ever serve you in any way, it and its master's life are, and shall be, whilst life remains to him, yours. It grieves me to think that Janet cannot, through my act, be given that ease and tranquillity of spirit which come from competence. But, my dear Rupert, you will be of full age in seven years more. Then, if you are in the same mind--and I am sure you will not change--you, being your own master, can do freely as you will. In the meantime, to secure, so far as I can, my dear Janet against any malign stroke of fortune, I have given orders to my factor to remit semi-annually to Janet one full half of such income as may be derived in any form from my estate of Croom. It is, I am sorry to say, heavily mortgaged; but of such as is--or may be, free from such charge as the mortgage entails--something at least will, I trust, remain to her. And, my dear boy, I can frankly say that it is to me a real pleasure that you and I can be linked in one more bond in this association of purpose. I have always held you in my heart as though you were my own son. Let me tell you now that you have acted as I should have liked a son of my own, had I been blessed with one, to have acted. God bless you, my dear. Yours ever, COLIN ALEX. MACKELPIE. _Letter from Roger Melton_, _of Openshaw Grange_, _to Rupert Sent Leger_, _Esq._, 14, _Newland Park_, _Dulwich_, _London_, _S.E._ _July_ 1, 1892. MY DEAR NEPHEW, Your letter of the 30th ult. received. Have carefully considered matter stated, and have come to the conclusion that my duty as a trustee would not allow me to give full consent, as you wish. Let me explain. The testator, in making her will, intended that such fortune as she had at disposal should be used to supply to you her son such benefits as its annual product should procure. To this end, and to provide against wastefulness or foolishness on your part, or, indeed, against any generosity, howsoever worthy, which might impoverish you and so defeat her benevolent intentions regarding your education, comfort, and future good, she did not place the estate directly in your hands, leaving you to do as you might feel inclined about it. But, on the contrary, she entrusted the corpus of it in the hands of men whom she believed should be resolute enough and strong enough to carry out her intent, even against any cajolements or pressure which might be employed to the contrary. It being her intention, then, that such trustees as she appointed would use for your benefit the interest accruing annually from the capital at command, _and that only_ (as specifically directed in the will), so that on your arriving at full age the capital entrusted to us should be handed over to you intact, I find a hard-and-fast duty in the matter of adhering exactly to the directions given. I have no doubt that my co-trustees regard the matter in exactly the same light. Under the circumstances, therefore, we, the trustees, have not only a single and united duty towards you as the object of the testator's wishes, but towards each other as regards the manner of the carrying out of that duty. I take it, therefore, that it would not be consonant with the spirit of the trust or of our own ideas in accepting it that any of us should take a course pleasant to himself which would or might involve a stern opposition on the part of other of the co-trustees. We have each of us to do the unpleasant part of this duty without fear or favour. You understand, of course, that the time which must elapse before you come into absolute possession of your estate is a limited one. As by the terms of the will we are to hand over our trust when you have reached the age of twenty-one, there are only seven years to expire. But till then, though I should gladly meet your wishes if I could, I must adhere to the duty which I have undertaken. At the expiration of that period you will be quite free to divest yourself of your estate without protest or comment of any man. Having now expressed as clearly as I can the limitations by which I am bound with regard to the corpus of your estate, let me say that in any other way which is in my power or discretion I shall be most happy to see your wishes carried out so far as rests with me. Indeed, I shall undertake to use what influence I may possess with my co-trustees to induce them to take a similar view of your wishes. In my own thinking you are quite free to use your own property in your own way. But as, until you shall have attained your majority, you have only life-user in your mother's bequest, you are only at liberty to deal with the annual increment. On our part as trustees we have a first charge on that increment to be used for purposes of your maintenance, clothes, and education. As to what may remain over each half-year, you will be free to deal with it as you choose. On receiving from you a written authorization to your trustees, if you desire the whole sum or any part of it to be paid over to Miss Janet MacKelpie, I shall see that it is effected. Believe me, that our duty is to protect the corpus of the estate, and to this end we may not act on any instruction to imperil it. But there our warranty stops. We can deal during our trusteeship with the corpus only. Further, lest there should arise any error on your part, we can deal with any general instruction for only so long as it may remain unrevoked. You are, and must be, free to alter your instructions or authorizations at any time. Thus your latest document must be used for our guidance. As to the general principle involved in your wish I make no comment. You are at liberty to deal with your own how you will. I quite understand that your impulse is a generous one, and I fully believe that it is in consonance with what had always been the wishes of my sister. Had she been happily alive and had to give judgment of your intent, I am convinced that she would have approved. Therefore, my dear nephew, should you so wish, I shall be happy for her sake as well as your own to pay over on your account (as a confidential matter between you and me), but from my own pocket, a sum equal to that which you wish transferred to Miss Janet MacKelpie. On hearing from you I shall know how to act in the matter. With all good wishes, Believe me to be, Your affectionate uncle, ROGER MELTON. TO RUPERT SENT LEGER, ESQ. _Letter from Rupert Sent Leger to Roger Melton_, _July_ 5, 1892. MY DEAR UNCLE, Thank you heartily for your kind letter. I quite understand, and now see that I should not have asked you as a trustee, such a thing. I see your duty clearly, and agree with your view of it. I enclose a letter directed to my trustees, asking them to pay over annually till further direction to Miss Janet MacKelpie at this address whatever sum may remain over from the interest of my mother's bequest after deduction of such expenses as you may deem fit for my maintenance, clothing, and education, together with a sum of one pound sterling per month, which was the amount my dear mother always gave me for my personal use--"pocket-money," she called it. With regard to your most kind and generous offer to give to my dear Aunt Janet the sum which I would have given myself, had such been in my power, I thank you most truly and sincerely, both for my dear aunt (to whom, of course, I shall not mention the matter unless you specially authorize me) and myself. But, indeed, I think it will be better not to offer it. Aunt Janet is very proud, and would not accept any benefit. With me, of course, it is different, for since I was a wee child she has been like another mother to me, and I love her very much. Since my mother died--and she, of course, was all-in-all to me--there has been no other. And in such a love as ours pride has no place. Thank you again, dear uncle, and God bless you. Your loving nephew, RUPERT SENT LEGER. ERNEST ROGER HALBARD MELTON'S RECORD--_Continued_. And now _re_ the remaining one of Sir Geoffrey's children, Roger. He was the third child and third son, the only daughter, Patience, having been born twenty years after the last of the four sons. Concerning Roger, I shall put down all I have heard of him from my father and grandfather. From my grand-aunt I heard nothing, I was a very small kid when she died; but I remember seeing her, but only once. A very tall, handsome woman of a little over thirty, with very dark hair and light-coloured eyes. I think they were either grey or blue, but I can't remember which. She looked very proud and haughty, but I am bound to say that she was very nice to me. I remember feeling very jealous of Rupert because his mother looked so distinguished. Rupert was eight years older than me, and I was afraid he would beat me if I said anything he did not like. So I was silent except when I forgot to be, and Rupert said very unkindly, and I think very unfairly, that I was "A sulky little beast." I haven't forgot that, and I don't mean to. However, it doesn't matter much what he said or thought. There he is--if he is at all--where no one can find him, with no money or nothing, for what little he had he settled when he came of age, on the MacSkelpie. He wanted to give it to her when his mother died, but father, who was a trustee, refused; and Uncle Roger, as I call him, who is another, thought the trustees had no power to allow Rupert to throw away his matrimony, as I called it, making a joke to father when he called it patrimony. Old Sir Colin MacSkelpie, who is the third, said he couldn't take any part in such a permission, as the MacSkelpie was his niece. He is a rude old man, that. I remember when, not remembering his relationship, I spoke of the MacSkelpie, he caught me a clip on the ear that sent me across the room. His Scotch is very broad. I can hear him say, "Hae some attempt at even Soothern manners, and dinna misca' yer betters, ye young puddock, or I'll wring yer snoot!" Father was, I could see, very much offended, but he didn't say anything. He remembered, I think, that the General is a V.C. man, and was fond of fighting duels. But to show that the fault was not his, _he_ wrung _my_ ear--and the same ear too! I suppose he thought that was justice! But it's only right to say that he made up for it afterwards. When the General had gone he gave me a five-pound note. I don't think Uncle Roger was very pleased with the way Rupert behaved about the legacy, for I don't think he ever saw him from that day to this. Perhaps, of course, it was because Rupert ran away shortly afterwards; but I shall tell about that when I come to him. After all, why should my uncle bother about him? He is not a Melton at all, and I am to be Head of the House--of course, when the Lord thinks right to take father to Himself! Uncle Roger has tons of money, and he never married, so if he wants to leave it in the right direction he needn't have any trouble. He made his money in what he calls "the Eastern Trade." This, so far as I can gather, takes in the Levant and all east of it. I know he has what they call in trade "houses" in all sorts of places--Turkey, and Greece, and all round them, Morocco, Egypt, and Southern Russia, and the Holy Land; then on to Persia, India, and all round it; the Chersonese, China, Japan, and the Pacific Islands. It is not to be expected that we landowners can know much about trade, but my uncle covers--or alas! I must say "covered"--a lot of ground, I can tell you. Uncle Roger was a very grim sort of man, and only that I was brought up to try and be kind to him I shouldn't ever have dared to speak to him. But when was a child father and mother--especially mother--forced me to go and see him and be affectionate to him. He wasn't ever even civil to me, that I can remember--grumpy old bear! But, then, he never saw Rupert at all, so that I take it Master R--- is out of the running altogether for testamentary honours. The last time I saw him myself he was distinctly rude. He treated me as a boy, though I was getting on for eighteen years of age. I came into his office without knocking; and without looking up from his desk, where he was writing, he said: "Get out! Why do you venture to disturb me when I'm busy? Get out, and be damned to you!" I waited where I was, ready to transfix him with my eye when he should look up, for I cannot forget that when my father dies I shall be Head of my House. But when he did there was no transfixing possible. He said quite coolly: "Oh, it's you, is it? I thought it was one of my office boys. Sit down, if you want to see me, and wait till I am ready." So I sat down and waited. Father always said that I should try to conciliate and please my uncle. Father is a very shrewd man, and Uncle Roger is a very rich one. But I don't think Uncle R--- is as shrewd as he thinks he is. He sometimes makes awful mistakes in business. For instance, some years ago he bought an enormous estate on the Adriatic, in the country they call the "Land of Blue Mountains." At least, he says he bought it. He told father so in confidence. But he didn't show any title-deeds, and I'm greatly afraid he was "had." A bad job for me that he was, for father believes he paid an enormous sum for it, and as I am his natural heir, it reduces his available estate to so much less. And now about Rupert. As I have said, he ran away when he was about fourteen, and we did not hear about him for years. When we--or, rather, my father--did hear of him, it was no good that he heard. He had gone as a cabin-boy on a sailing ship round the Horn. Then he joined an exploring party through the centre of Patagonia, and then another up in Alaska, and a third to the Aleutian Islands. After that he went through Central America, and then to Western Africa, the Pacific Islands, India, and a lot of places. We all know the wisdom of the adage that "A rolling stone gathers no moss"; and certainly, if there be any value in moss, Cousin Rupert will die a poor man. Indeed, nothing will stand his idiotic, boastful wastefulness. Look at the way in which, when he came of age, he made over all his mother's little fortune to the MacSkelpie! I am sure that, though Uncle Roger made no comment to my father, who, as Head of our House, should, of course, have been informed, he was not pleased. My mother, who has a good fortune in her own right, and has had the sense to keep it in her own control--as I am to inherit it, and it is not in the entail, I am therefore quite impartial--I can approve of her spirited conduct in the matter. We never did think much of Rupert, anyhow; but now, since he is in the way to be a pauper, and therefore a dangerous nuisance, we look on him as quite an outsider. We know what he really is. For my own part, I loathe and despise him. Just now we are irritated with him, for we are all kept on tenterhooks regarding my dear Uncle Roger's Will. For Mr. Trent, the attorney who regulated my dear uncle's affairs and has possession of the Will, says it is necessary to know where every possible beneficiary is to be found before making the Will public, so we all have to wait. It is especially hard on me, who am the natural heir. It is very thoughtless indeed of Rupert to keep away like that. I wrote to old MacSkelpie about it, but he didn't seem to understand or to be at all anxious--he is not the heir! He said that probably Rupert Sent Leger--he, too, keeps to the old spelling--did not know of his uncle's death, or he would have taken steps to relieve our anxiety. Our anxiety, forsooth! We are not anxious; we only wish to _know_. And if we--and especially me--who have all the annoyance of thinking of the detestable and unfair death-duties, are anxious, we should be so. Well, anyhow, he'll get a properly bitter disappointment and set down when he does turn up and discovers that he is a pauper without hope! * * * * * To-day we (father and I) had letters from Mr. Trent, telling us that the whereabouts of "Mr. Rupert Sent Leger" had been discovered, and that a letter disclosing the fact of poor Uncle Roger's death had been sent to him. He was at Titicaca when last heard of. So goodness only knows when he may get the letter, which "asks him to come home at once, but only gives to him such information about the Will as has already been given to every member of the testator's family." And that is nil. I dare say we shall be kept waiting for months before we get hold of the estate which is ours. It is too bad! _Letter from Edward Bingham Trent to Ernest Roger Halbard Melton_. 176, LINCOLN'S INN FIELDS, _December_ 28, 1906. DEAR SIR, I am glad to be able to inform you that I have just heard by letter from Mr. Rupert St. Leger that he intended leaving Rio de Janeiro by the S.S. _Amazon_, of the Royal Mail Company, on December 15. He further stated that he would cable just before leaving Rio de Janeiro, to say on what day the ship was expected to arrive in London. As all the others possibly interested in the Will of the late Roger Melton, and whose names are given to me in his instructions regarding the reading of the Will, have been advised, and have expressed their intention of being present at that event on being apprised of the time and place, I now beg to inform you that by cable message received the date scheduled for arrival at the Port of London was January 1 prox. I therefore beg to notify you, subject to postponement due to the non-arrival of the _Amazon_, the reading of the Will of the late Roger Melton, Esq., will take place in my office on Thursday, January 3 prox., at eleven o'clock a.m. I have the honour to be, sir, Yours faithfully, EDWARD BINGHAM TRENT. TO ERNEST ROGER HALBARD MELTON, ESQ., HUMCROFT, SALOP. Cable: _Rupert Sent Leger to Edward Bingham Trent_. _Amazon_ arrives London January 1. SENT LEGER. _Telegram_ (_per Lloyd's_): _Rupert Sent Leger to Edward Bingham Trent_. THE LIZARD, _December_ 31. _Amazon_ arrives London to-morrow morning. All well.--LEGER. _Telegram_: _Edward Bingham Trent to Ernest Roger Halbard Mellon_. Rupert Sent Leger arrived. Reading Will takes place as arranged.--TRENT. ERNEST ROGER HALBARD MELTON'S RECORD. _January_ 4, 1907. The reading of Uncle Roger's Will is over. Father got a duplicate of Mr. Trent's letter to me, and of the cable and two telegrams pasted into this Record. We both waited patiently till the third--that is, we did not say anything. The only impatient member of our family was my mother. She _did_ say things, and if old Trent had been here his ears would have been red. She said what ridiculous nonsense it was delaying the reading of the Will, and keeping the Heir waiting for the arrival of an obscure person who wasn't even a member of the family, inasmuch as he didn't bear the name. I don't think it's quite respectful to one who is some day to be Head of the House! I thought father was weakening in his patience when he said: "True, my dear--true!" and got up and left the room. Some time afterwards when I passed the library I heard him walking up and down. Father and I went up to town on the afternoon of Wednesday, January 2. We stayed, of course, at Claridge's, where we always stay when we go to town. Mother wanted to come, too, but father thought it better not. She would not agree to stay at home till we both promised to send her separate telegrams after the reading. At five minutes to eleven we entered Mr. Trent's office. Father would not go a moment earlier, as he said it was bad form to seem eager at any time, but most of all at the reading of a will. It was a rotten grind, for we had to be walking all over the neighbourhood for half an hour before it was time, not to be too early. When we went into the room we found there General Sir Colin MacKelpie and a big man, very bronzed, whom I took to be Rupert St. Leger--not a very creditable connection to look at, I thought! He and old MacKelpie took care to be in time! Rather low, I thought it. Mr. St. Leger was reading a letter. He had evidently come in but lately, for though he seemed to be eager about it, he was only at the first page, and I could see that there were many sheets. He did not look up when we came in, or till he had finished the letter; and you may be sure that neither I nor my father (who, as Head of the House, should have had more respect from him) took the trouble to go to him. After all, he is a pauper and a wastrel, and he has not the honour of bearing our Name. The General, however, came forward and greeted us both cordially. He evidently had forgotten--or pretended to have--the discourteous way he once treated me, for he spoke to me quite in a friendly way--I thought more warmly than he did to father. I was pleased to be spoken to so nicely, for, after all, whatever his manners may be, he is a distinguished man--has won the V.C. and a Baronetcy. He got the latter not long ago, after the Frontier War in India. I was not, however, led away into cordiality myself. I had not forgotten his rudeness, and I thought that he might be sucking up to me. I knew that when I had my dear Uncle Roger's many millions I should be a rather important person; and, of course, he knew it too. So I got even with him for his former impudence. When he held out his hand I put one finger in it, and said, "How do?" He got very red and turned away. Father and he had ended by glaring at each other, so neither of us was sorry to be done with him. All the time Mr. St. Leger did not seem to see or hear anything, but went on reading his letter. I thought the old MacSkelpie was going to bring him into the matter between us, for as he turned away I heard him say something under his breath. It sounded like "Help!" but Mr. S--- did not hear. He certainly no notice of it. As the MacS--- and Mr. S--- sat quite silent, neither looking at us, and as father was sitting on the other side of the room with his chin in his hand, and as I wanted to show that I was indifferent to the two S's, I took out this notebook, and went on with the Record, bringing it up to this moment. THE RECORD--_Continued_. When I had finished writing I looked over at Rupert. When he saw us, he jumped up and went over to father and shook his hand quite warmly. Father took him very coolly. Rupert, however, did not seem to see it, but came towards me heartily. I happened to be doing something else at the moment, and at first I did not see his hand; but just as I was looking at it the clock struck eleven. Whilst it was striking Mr. Trent came into the room. Close behind him came his clerk, carrying a locked tin box. There were two other men also. He bowed to us all in turn, beginning with me. I was standing opposite the door; the others were scattered about. Father sat still, but Sir Colin and Mr. St. Leger rose. Mr. Trent not did shake hands with any of us--not even me. Nothing but his respectful bow. That is the etiquette for an attorney, I understand, on such formal occasions. He sat down at the end of the big table in the centre of the room, and asked us to sit round. Father, of course, as Head of the Family, took the seat at his right hand. Sir Colin and St. Leger went to the other side, the former taking the seat next to the attorney. The General knows, of course, that a Baronet takes precedence at a ceremony. I may be a Baronet some day myself, and have to know these things. The clerk took the key which his master handed to him, opened the tin box, and took from it a bundle of papers tied with red tape. This he placed before the attorney, and put the empty box behind him on the floor. Then he and the other man sat at the far end of the table; the latter took out a big notebook and several pencils, and put them before him. He was evidently a shorthand-writer. Mr. Trent removed the tape from the bundle of papers, which he placed a little distance in front of him. He took a sealed envelope from the top, broke the seal, opened the envelope, and from it took a parchment, in the folds of which were some sealed envelopes, which he laid in a heap in front of the other paper. Then he unfolded the parchment, and laid it before him with the outside page up. He fixed his glasses, and said: "Gentlemen, the sealed envelope which you have seen me open is endorsed 'My Last Will and Testament--ROGER MELTON, _June_, 1906.' This document"--holding it up--"is as follows: "'I Roger Melton of Openshaw Grange in the County of Dorset; of number one hundred and twenty-three Berkeley Square London; and of the Castle of Vissarion in the Land of the Blue Mountains, being of sound mind do make this my Last Will and Testament on this day Monday the eleventh day of the month of June in the year of Our Lord one thousand nine hundred and six at the office of my old friend and Attorney Edward Bingham Trent in number one hundred and seventy-six Lincoln's Inn Fields London hereby revoking all other wills that I may have formerly made and giving this as my sole and last Will making dispositions of my property as follows: "'1. To my kinsman and nephew Ernest Halbard Melton Esquire, justice of the Peace, Humcroft the County of Salop, for his sole use and benefit the sum of twenty thousand pounds sterling free of all Duties Taxes and charges whatever to be paid out of my Five per centum Bonds of the City of Montreal, Canada. "'2. To my respected friend and colleague as co-trustee to the Will of my late sister Patience late widow of the late Captain Rupert Sent Leger who predeceased her, Major-General Sir Colin Alexander MacKelpie, Baronet, holder of the Victoria Cross, Knight Commander of the Order of the Bath, of Croom in the county of Ross Scotland a sum of Twenty thousand pounds sterling free of all Taxes and charges whatsoever; to be paid out of my Five per centum Bonds of the City of Toronto, Canada. "'3. To Miss Janet MacKelpie presently residing at Croom in the County of Ross Scotland the sum of Twenty thousand pounds sterling free of all Duties Taxes and Charges whatsoever, to be paid out of my Five per centum Bonds of the London County Council. "'4. To the various persons charities and Trustees named in the schedule attached to this Will and marked A. the various sums mentioned therein, all free of Duties and Taxes and charges whatsoever.'" Here Mr. Trent read out the list here following, and announced for our immediate understanding of the situation the total amount as two hundred and fifty thousand pounds. Many of the beneficiaries were old friends, comrades, dependents, and servants, some of them being left

raises

How many times the word 'raises' appears in the text?

you; and if the sword of an old soldier--it is all I have--can ever serve you in any way, it and its master's life are, and shall be, whilst life remains to him, yours. It grieves me to think that Janet cannot, through my act, be given that ease and tranquillity of spirit which come from competence. But, my dear Rupert, you will be of full age in seven years more. Then, if you are in the same mind--and I am sure you will not change--you, being your own master, can do freely as you will. In the meantime, to secure, so far as I can, my dear Janet against any malign stroke of fortune, I have given orders to my factor to remit semi-annually to Janet one full half of such income as may be derived in any form from my estate of Croom. It is, I am sorry to say, heavily mortgaged; but of such as is--or may be, free from such charge as the mortgage entails--something at least will, I trust, remain to her. And, my dear boy, I can frankly say that it is to me a real pleasure that you and I can be linked in one more bond in this association of purpose. I have always held you in my heart as though you were my own son. Let me tell you now that you have acted as I should have liked a son of my own, had I been blessed with one, to have acted. God bless you, my dear. Yours ever, COLIN ALEX. MACKELPIE. _Letter from Roger Melton_, _of Openshaw Grange_, _to Rupert Sent Leger_, _Esq._, 14, _Newland Park_, _Dulwich_, _London_, _S.E._ _July_ 1, 1892. MY DEAR NEPHEW, Your letter of the 30th ult. received. Have carefully considered matter stated, and have come to the conclusion that my duty as a trustee would not allow me to give full consent, as you wish. Let me explain. The testator, in making her will, intended that such fortune as she had at disposal should be used to supply to you her son such benefits as its annual product should procure. To this end, and to provide against wastefulness or foolishness on your part, or, indeed, against any generosity, howsoever worthy, which might impoverish you and so defeat her benevolent intentions regarding your education, comfort, and future good, she did not place the estate directly in your hands, leaving you to do as you might feel inclined about it. But, on the contrary, she entrusted the corpus of it in the hands of men whom she believed should be resolute enough and strong enough to carry out her intent, even against any cajolements or pressure which might be employed to the contrary. It being her intention, then, that such trustees as she appointed would use for your benefit the interest accruing annually from the capital at command, _and that only_ (as specifically directed in the will), so that on your arriving at full age the capital entrusted to us should be handed over to you intact, I find a hard-and-fast duty in the matter of adhering exactly to the directions given. I have no doubt that my co-trustees regard the matter in exactly the same light. Under the circumstances, therefore, we, the trustees, have not only a single and united duty towards you as the object of the testator's wishes, but towards each other as regards the manner of the carrying out of that duty. I take it, therefore, that it would not be consonant with the spirit of the trust or of our own ideas in accepting it that any of us should take a course pleasant to himself which would or might involve a stern opposition on the part of other of the co-trustees. We have each of us to do the unpleasant part of this duty without fear or favour. You understand, of course, that the time which must elapse before you come into absolute possession of your estate is a limited one. As by the terms of the will we are to hand over our trust when you have reached the age of twenty-one, there are only seven years to expire. But till then, though I should gladly meet your wishes if I could, I must adhere to the duty which I have undertaken. At the expiration of that period you will be quite free to divest yourself of your estate without protest or comment of any man. Having now expressed as clearly as I can the limitations by which I am bound with regard to the corpus of your estate, let me say that in any other way which is in my power or discretion I shall be most happy to see your wishes carried out so far as rests with me. Indeed, I shall undertake to use what influence I may possess with my co-trustees to induce them to take a similar view of your wishes. In my own thinking you are quite free to use your own property in your own way. But as, until you shall have attained your majority, you have only life-user in your mother's bequest, you are only at liberty to deal with the annual increment. On our part as trustees we have a first charge on that increment to be used for purposes of your maintenance, clothes, and education. As to what may remain over each half-year, you will be free to deal with it as you choose. On receiving from you a written authorization to your trustees, if you desire the whole sum or any part of it to be paid over to Miss Janet MacKelpie, I shall see that it is effected. Believe me, that our duty is to protect the corpus of the estate, and to this end we may not act on any instruction to imperil it. But there our warranty stops. We can deal during our trusteeship with the corpus only. Further, lest there should arise any error on your part, we can deal with any general instruction for only so long as it may remain unrevoked. You are, and must be, free to alter your instructions or authorizations at any time. Thus your latest document must be used for our guidance. As to the general principle involved in your wish I make no comment. You are at liberty to deal with your own how you will. I quite understand that your impulse is a generous one, and I fully believe that it is in consonance with what had always been the wishes of my sister. Had she been happily alive and had to give judgment of your intent, I am convinced that she would have approved. Therefore, my dear nephew, should you so wish, I shall be happy for her sake as well as your own to pay over on your account (as a confidential matter between you and me), but from my own pocket, a sum equal to that which you wish transferred to Miss Janet MacKelpie. On hearing from you I shall know how to act in the matter. With all good wishes, Believe me to be, Your affectionate uncle, ROGER MELTON. TO RUPERT SENT LEGER, ESQ. _Letter from Rupert Sent Leger to Roger Melton_, _July_ 5, 1892. MY DEAR UNCLE, Thank you heartily for your kind letter. I quite understand, and now see that I should not have asked you as a trustee, such a thing. I see your duty clearly, and agree with your view of it. I enclose a letter directed to my trustees, asking them to pay over annually till further direction to Miss Janet MacKelpie at this address whatever sum may remain over from the interest of my mother's bequest after deduction of such expenses as you may deem fit for my maintenance, clothing, and education, together with a sum of one pound sterling per month, which was the amount my dear mother always gave me for my personal use--"pocket-money," she called it. With regard to your most kind and generous offer to give to my dear Aunt Janet the sum which I would have given myself, had such been in my power, I thank you most truly and sincerely, both for my dear aunt (to whom, of course, I shall not mention the matter unless you specially authorize me) and myself. But, indeed, I think it will be better not to offer it. Aunt Janet is very proud, and would not accept any benefit. With me, of course, it is different, for since I was a wee child she has been like another mother to me, and I love her very much. Since my mother died--and she, of course, was all-in-all to me--there has been no other. And in such a love as ours pride has no place. Thank you again, dear uncle, and God bless you. Your loving nephew, RUPERT SENT LEGER. ERNEST ROGER HALBARD MELTON'S RECORD--_Continued_. And now _re_ the remaining one of Sir Geoffrey's children, Roger. He was the third child and third son, the only daughter, Patience, having been born twenty years after the last of the four sons. Concerning Roger, I shall put down all I have heard of him from my father and grandfather. From my grand-aunt I heard nothing, I was a very small kid when she died; but I remember seeing her, but only once. A very tall, handsome woman of a little over thirty, with very dark hair and light-coloured eyes. I think they were either grey or blue, but I can't remember which. She looked very proud and haughty, but I am bound to say that she was very nice to me. I remember feeling very jealous of Rupert because his mother looked so distinguished. Rupert was eight years older than me, and I was afraid he would beat me if I said anything he did not like. So I was silent except when I forgot to be, and Rupert said very unkindly, and I think very unfairly, that I was "A sulky little beast." I haven't forgot that, and I don't mean to. However, it doesn't matter much what he said or thought. There he is--if he is at all--where no one can find him, with no money or nothing, for what little he had he settled when he came of age, on the MacSkelpie. He wanted to give it to her when his mother died, but father, who was a trustee, refused; and Uncle Roger, as I call him, who is another, thought the trustees had no power to allow Rupert to throw away his matrimony, as I called it, making a joke to father when he called it patrimony. Old Sir Colin MacSkelpie, who is the third, said he couldn't take any part in such a permission, as the MacSkelpie was his niece. He is a rude old man, that. I remember when, not remembering his relationship, I spoke of the MacSkelpie, he caught me a clip on the ear that sent me across the room. His Scotch is very broad. I can hear him say, "Hae some attempt at even Soothern manners, and dinna misca' yer betters, ye young puddock, or I'll wring yer snoot!" Father was, I could see, very much offended, but he didn't say anything. He remembered, I think, that the General is a V.C. man, and was fond of fighting duels. But to show that the fault was not his, _he_ wrung _my_ ear--and the same ear too! I suppose he thought that was justice! But it's only right to say that he made up for it afterwards. When the General had gone he gave me a five-pound note. I don't think Uncle Roger was very pleased with the way Rupert behaved about the legacy, for I don't think he ever saw him from that day to this. Perhaps, of course, it was because Rupert ran away shortly afterwards; but I shall tell about that when I come to him. After all, why should my uncle bother about him? He is not a Melton at all, and I am to be Head of the House--of course, when the Lord thinks right to take father to Himself! Uncle Roger has tons of money, and he never married, so if he wants to leave it in the right direction he needn't have any trouble. He made his money in what he calls "the Eastern Trade." This, so far as I can gather, takes in the Levant and all east of it. I know he has what they call in trade "houses" in all sorts of places--Turkey, and Greece, and all round them, Morocco, Egypt, and Southern Russia, and the Holy Land; then on to Persia, India, and all round it; the Chersonese, China, Japan, and the Pacific Islands. It is not to be expected that we landowners can know much about trade, but my uncle covers--or alas! I must say "covered"--a lot of ground, I can tell you. Uncle Roger was a very grim sort of man, and only that I was brought up to try and be kind to him I shouldn't ever have dared to speak to him. But when was a child father and mother--especially mother--forced me to go and see him and be affectionate to him. He wasn't ever even civil to me, that I can remember--grumpy old bear! But, then, he never saw Rupert at all, so that I take it Master R--- is out of the running altogether for testamentary honours. The last time I saw him myself he was distinctly rude. He treated me as a boy, though I was getting on for eighteen years of age. I came into his office without knocking; and without looking up from his desk, where he was writing, he said: "Get out! Why do you venture to disturb me when I'm busy? Get out, and be damned to you!" I waited where I was, ready to transfix him with my eye when he should look up, for I cannot forget that when my father dies I shall be Head of my House. But when he did there was no transfixing possible. He said quite coolly: "Oh, it's you, is it? I thought it was one of my office boys. Sit down, if you want to see me, and wait till I am ready." So I sat down and waited. Father always said that I should try to conciliate and please my uncle. Father is a very shrewd man, and Uncle Roger is a very rich one. But I don't think Uncle R--- is as shrewd as he thinks he is. He sometimes makes awful mistakes in business. For instance, some years ago he bought an enormous estate on the Adriatic, in the country they call the "Land of Blue Mountains." At least, he says he bought it. He told father so in confidence. But he didn't show any title-deeds, and I'm greatly afraid he was "had." A bad job for me that he was, for father believes he paid an enormous sum for it, and as I am his natural heir, it reduces his available estate to so much less. And now about Rupert. As I have said, he ran away when he was about fourteen, and we did not hear about him for years. When we--or, rather, my father--did hear of him, it was no good that he heard. He had gone as a cabin-boy on a sailing ship round the Horn. Then he joined an exploring party through the centre of Patagonia, and then another up in Alaska, and a third to the Aleutian Islands. After that he went through Central America, and then to Western Africa, the Pacific Islands, India, and a lot of places. We all know the wisdom of the adage that "A rolling stone gathers no moss"; and certainly, if there be any value in moss, Cousin Rupert will die a poor man. Indeed, nothing will stand his idiotic, boastful wastefulness. Look at the way in which, when he came of age, he made over all his mother's little fortune to the MacSkelpie! I am sure that, though Uncle Roger made no comment to my father, who, as Head of our House, should, of course, have been informed, he was not pleased. My mother, who has a good fortune in her own right, and has had the sense to keep it in her own control--as I am to inherit it, and it is not in the entail, I am therefore quite impartial--I can approve of her spirited conduct in the matter. We never did think much of Rupert, anyhow; but now, since he is in the way to be a pauper, and therefore a dangerous nuisance, we look on him as quite an outsider. We know what he really is. For my own part, I loathe and despise him. Just now we are irritated with him, for we are all kept on tenterhooks regarding my dear Uncle Roger's Will. For Mr. Trent, the attorney who regulated my dear uncle's affairs and has possession of the Will, says it is necessary to know where every possible beneficiary is to be found before making the Will public, so we all have to wait. It is especially hard on me, who am the natural heir. It is very thoughtless indeed of Rupert to keep away like that. I wrote to old MacSkelpie about it, but he didn't seem to understand or to be at all anxious--he is not the heir! He said that probably Rupert Sent Leger--he, too, keeps to the old spelling--did not know of his uncle's death, or he would have taken steps to relieve our anxiety. Our anxiety, forsooth! We are not anxious; we only wish to _know_. And if we--and especially me--who have all the annoyance of thinking of the detestable and unfair death-duties, are anxious, we should be so. Well, anyhow, he'll get a properly bitter disappointment and set down when he does turn up and discovers that he is a pauper without hope! * * * * * To-day we (father and I) had letters from Mr. Trent, telling us that the whereabouts of "Mr. Rupert Sent Leger" had been discovered, and that a letter disclosing the fact of poor Uncle Roger's death had been sent to him. He was at Titicaca when last heard of. So goodness only knows when he may get the letter, which "asks him to come home at once, but only gives to him such information about the Will as has already been given to every member of the testator's family." And that is nil. I dare say we shall be kept waiting for months before we get hold of the estate which is ours. It is too bad! _Letter from Edward Bingham Trent to Ernest Roger Halbard Melton_. 176, LINCOLN'S INN FIELDS, _December_ 28, 1906. DEAR SIR, I am glad to be able to inform you that I have just heard by letter from Mr. Rupert St. Leger that he intended leaving Rio de Janeiro by the S.S. _Amazon_, of the Royal Mail Company, on December 15. He further stated that he would cable just before leaving Rio de Janeiro, to say on what day the ship was expected to arrive in London. As all the others possibly interested in the Will of the late Roger Melton, and whose names are given to me in his instructions regarding the reading of the Will, have been advised, and have expressed their intention of being present at that event on being apprised of the time and place, I now beg to inform you that by cable message received the date scheduled for arrival at the Port of London was January 1 prox. I therefore beg to notify you, subject to postponement due to the non-arrival of the _Amazon_, the reading of the Will of the late Roger Melton, Esq., will take place in my office on Thursday, January 3 prox., at eleven o'clock a.m. I have the honour to be, sir, Yours faithfully, EDWARD BINGHAM TRENT. TO ERNEST ROGER HALBARD MELTON, ESQ., HUMCROFT, SALOP. Cable: _Rupert Sent Leger to Edward Bingham Trent_. _Amazon_ arrives London January 1. SENT LEGER. _Telegram_ (_per Lloyd's_): _Rupert Sent Leger to Edward Bingham Trent_. THE LIZARD, _December_ 31. _Amazon_ arrives London to-morrow morning. All well.--LEGER. _Telegram_: _Edward Bingham Trent to Ernest Roger Halbard Mellon_. Rupert Sent Leger arrived. Reading Will takes place as arranged.--TRENT. ERNEST ROGER HALBARD MELTON'S RECORD. _January_ 4, 1907. The reading of Uncle Roger's Will is over. Father got a duplicate of Mr. Trent's letter to me, and of the cable and two telegrams pasted into this Record. We both waited patiently till the third--that is, we did not say anything. The only impatient member of our family was my mother. She _did_ say things, and if old Trent had been here his ears would have been red. She said what ridiculous nonsense it was delaying the reading of the Will, and keeping the Heir waiting for the arrival of an obscure person who wasn't even a member of the family, inasmuch as he didn't bear the name. I don't think it's quite respectful to one who is some day to be Head of the House! I thought father was weakening in his patience when he said: "True, my dear--true!" and got up and left the room. Some time afterwards when I passed the library I heard him walking up and down. Father and I went up to town on the afternoon of Wednesday, January 2. We stayed, of course, at Claridge's, where we always stay when we go to town. Mother wanted to come, too, but father thought it better not. She would not agree to stay at home till we both promised to send her separate telegrams after the reading. At five minutes to eleven we entered Mr. Trent's office. Father would not go a moment earlier, as he said it was bad form to seem eager at any time, but most of all at the reading of a will. It was a rotten grind, for we had to be walking all over the neighbourhood for half an hour before it was time, not to be too early. When we went into the room we found there General Sir Colin MacKelpie and a big man, very bronzed, whom I took to be Rupert St. Leger--not a very creditable connection to look at, I thought! He and old MacKelpie took care to be in time! Rather low, I thought it. Mr. St. Leger was reading a letter. He had evidently come in but lately, for though he seemed to be eager about it, he was only at the first page, and I could see that there were many sheets. He did not look up when we came in, or till he had finished the letter; and you may be sure that neither I nor my father (who, as Head of the House, should have had more respect from him) took the trouble to go to him. After all, he is a pauper and a wastrel, and he has not the honour of bearing our Name. The General, however, came forward and greeted us both cordially. He evidently had forgotten--or pretended to have--the discourteous way he once treated me, for he spoke to me quite in a friendly way--I thought more warmly than he did to father. I was pleased to be spoken to so nicely, for, after all, whatever his manners may be, he is a distinguished man--has won the V.C. and a Baronetcy. He got the latter not long ago, after the Frontier War in India. I was not, however, led away into cordiality myself. I had not forgotten his rudeness, and I thought that he might be sucking up to me. I knew that when I had my dear Uncle Roger's many millions I should be a rather important person; and, of course, he knew it too. So I got even with him for his former impudence. When he held out his hand I put one finger in it, and said, "How do?" He got very red and turned away. Father and he had ended by glaring at each other, so neither of us was sorry to be done with him. All the time Mr. St. Leger did not seem to see or hear anything, but went on reading his letter. I thought the old MacSkelpie was going to bring him into the matter between us, for as he turned away I heard him say something under his breath. It sounded like "Help!" but Mr. S--- did not hear. He certainly no notice of it. As the MacS--- and Mr. S--- sat quite silent, neither looking at us, and as father was sitting on the other side of the room with his chin in his hand, and as I wanted to show that I was indifferent to the two S's, I took out this notebook, and went on with the Record, bringing it up to this moment. THE RECORD--_Continued_. When I had finished writing I looked over at Rupert. When he saw us, he jumped up and went over to father and shook his hand quite warmly. Father took him very coolly. Rupert, however, did not seem to see it, but came towards me heartily. I happened to be doing something else at the moment, and at first I did not see his hand; but just as I was looking at it the clock struck eleven. Whilst it was striking Mr. Trent came into the room. Close behind him came his clerk, carrying a locked tin box. There were two other men also. He bowed to us all in turn, beginning with me. I was standing opposite the door; the others were scattered about. Father sat still, but Sir Colin and Mr. St. Leger rose. Mr. Trent not did shake hands with any of us--not even me. Nothing but his respectful bow. That is the etiquette for an attorney, I understand, on such formal occasions. He sat down at the end of the big table in the centre of the room, and asked us to sit round. Father, of course, as Head of the Family, took the seat at his right hand. Sir Colin and St. Leger went to the other side, the former taking the seat next to the attorney. The General knows, of course, that a Baronet takes precedence at a ceremony. I may be a Baronet some day myself, and have to know these things. The clerk took the key which his master handed to him, opened the tin box, and took from it a bundle of papers tied with red tape. This he placed before the attorney, and put the empty box behind him on the floor. Then he and the other man sat at the far end of the table; the latter took out a big notebook and several pencils, and put them before him. He was evidently a shorthand-writer. Mr. Trent removed the tape from the bundle of papers, which he placed a little distance in front of him. He took a sealed envelope from the top, broke the seal, opened the envelope, and from it took a parchment, in the folds of which were some sealed envelopes, which he laid in a heap in front of the other paper. Then he unfolded the parchment, and laid it before him with the outside page up. He fixed his glasses, and said: "Gentlemen, the sealed envelope which you have seen me open is endorsed 'My Last Will and Testament--ROGER MELTON, _June_, 1906.' This document"--holding it up--"is as follows: "'I Roger Melton of Openshaw Grange in the County of Dorset; of number one hundred and twenty-three Berkeley Square London; and of the Castle of Vissarion in the Land of the Blue Mountains, being of sound mind do make this my Last Will and Testament on this day Monday the eleventh day of the month of June in the year of Our Lord one thousand nine hundred and six at the office of my old friend and Attorney Edward Bingham Trent in number one hundred and seventy-six Lincoln's Inn Fields London hereby revoking all other wills that I may have formerly made and giving this as my sole and last Will making dispositions of my property as follows: "'1. To my kinsman and nephew Ernest Halbard Melton Esquire, justice of the Peace, Humcroft the County of Salop, for his sole use and benefit the sum of twenty thousand pounds sterling free of all Duties Taxes and charges whatever to be paid out of my Five per centum Bonds of the City of Montreal, Canada. "'2. To my respected friend and colleague as co-trustee to the Will of my late sister Patience late widow of the late Captain Rupert Sent Leger who predeceased her, Major-General Sir Colin Alexander MacKelpie, Baronet, holder of the Victoria Cross, Knight Commander of the Order of the Bath, of Croom in the county of Ross Scotland a sum of Twenty thousand pounds sterling free of all Taxes and charges whatsoever; to be paid out of my Five per centum Bonds of the City of Toronto, Canada. "'3. To Miss Janet MacKelpie presently residing at Croom in the County of Ross Scotland the sum of Twenty thousand pounds sterling free of all Duties Taxes and Charges whatsoever, to be paid out of my Five per centum Bonds of the London County Council. "'4. To the various persons charities and Trustees named in the schedule attached to this Will and marked A. the various sums mentioned therein, all free of Duties and Taxes and charges whatsoever.'" Here Mr. Trent read out the list here following, and announced for our immediate understanding of the situation the total amount as two hundred and fifty thousand pounds. Many of the beneficiaries were old friends, comrades, dependents, and servants, some of them being left

same

How many times the word 'same' appears in the text?

you; and if the sword of an old soldier--it is all I have--can ever serve you in any way, it and its master's life are, and shall be, whilst life remains to him, yours. It grieves me to think that Janet cannot, through my act, be given that ease and tranquillity of spirit which come from competence. But, my dear Rupert, you will be of full age in seven years more. Then, if you are in the same mind--and I am sure you will not change--you, being your own master, can do freely as you will. In the meantime, to secure, so far as I can, my dear Janet against any malign stroke of fortune, I have given orders to my factor to remit semi-annually to Janet one full half of such income as may be derived in any form from my estate of Croom. It is, I am sorry to say, heavily mortgaged; but of such as is--or may be, free from such charge as the mortgage entails--something at least will, I trust, remain to her. And, my dear boy, I can frankly say that it is to me a real pleasure that you and I can be linked in one more bond in this association of purpose. I have always held you in my heart as though you were my own son. Let me tell you now that you have acted as I should have liked a son of my own, had I been blessed with one, to have acted. God bless you, my dear. Yours ever, COLIN ALEX. MACKELPIE. _Letter from Roger Melton_, _of Openshaw Grange_, _to Rupert Sent Leger_, _Esq._, 14, _Newland Park_, _Dulwich_, _London_, _S.E._ _July_ 1, 1892. MY DEAR NEPHEW, Your letter of the 30th ult. received. Have carefully considered matter stated, and have come to the conclusion that my duty as a trustee would not allow me to give full consent, as you wish. Let me explain. The testator, in making her will, intended that such fortune as she had at disposal should be used to supply to you her son such benefits as its annual product should procure. To this end, and to provide against wastefulness or foolishness on your part, or, indeed, against any generosity, howsoever worthy, which might impoverish you and so defeat her benevolent intentions regarding your education, comfort, and future good, she did not place the estate directly in your hands, leaving you to do as you might feel inclined about it. But, on the contrary, she entrusted the corpus of it in the hands of men whom she believed should be resolute enough and strong enough to carry out her intent, even against any cajolements or pressure which might be employed to the contrary. It being her intention, then, that such trustees as she appointed would use for your benefit the interest accruing annually from the capital at command, _and that only_ (as specifically directed in the will), so that on your arriving at full age the capital entrusted to us should be handed over to you intact, I find a hard-and-fast duty in the matter of adhering exactly to the directions given. I have no doubt that my co-trustees regard the matter in exactly the same light. Under the circumstances, therefore, we, the trustees, have not only a single and united duty towards you as the object of the testator's wishes, but towards each other as regards the manner of the carrying out of that duty. I take it, therefore, that it would not be consonant with the spirit of the trust or of our own ideas in accepting it that any of us should take a course pleasant to himself which would or might involve a stern opposition on the part of other of the co-trustees. We have each of us to do the unpleasant part of this duty without fear or favour. You understand, of course, that the time which must elapse before you come into absolute possession of your estate is a limited one. As by the terms of the will we are to hand over our trust when you have reached the age of twenty-one, there are only seven years to expire. But till then, though I should gladly meet your wishes if I could, I must adhere to the duty which I have undertaken. At the expiration of that period you will be quite free to divest yourself of your estate without protest or comment of any man. Having now expressed as clearly as I can the limitations by which I am bound with regard to the corpus of your estate, let me say that in any other way which is in my power or discretion I shall be most happy to see your wishes carried out so far as rests with me. Indeed, I shall undertake to use what influence I may possess with my co-trustees to induce them to take a similar view of your wishes. In my own thinking you are quite free to use your own property in your own way. But as, until you shall have attained your majority, you have only life-user in your mother's bequest, you are only at liberty to deal with the annual increment. On our part as trustees we have a first charge on that increment to be used for purposes of your maintenance, clothes, and education. As to what may remain over each half-year, you will be free to deal with it as you choose. On receiving from you a written authorization to your trustees, if you desire the whole sum or any part of it to be paid over to Miss Janet MacKelpie, I shall see that it is effected. Believe me, that our duty is to protect the corpus of the estate, and to this end we may not act on any instruction to imperil it. But there our warranty stops. We can deal during our trusteeship with the corpus only. Further, lest there should arise any error on your part, we can deal with any general instruction for only so long as it may remain unrevoked. You are, and must be, free to alter your instructions or authorizations at any time. Thus your latest document must be used for our guidance. As to the general principle involved in your wish I make no comment. You are at liberty to deal with your own how you will. I quite understand that your impulse is a generous one, and I fully believe that it is in consonance with what had always been the wishes of my sister. Had she been happily alive and had to give judgment of your intent, I am convinced that she would have approved. Therefore, my dear nephew, should you so wish, I shall be happy for her sake as well as your own to pay over on your account (as a confidential matter between you and me), but from my own pocket, a sum equal to that which you wish transferred to Miss Janet MacKelpie. On hearing from you I shall know how to act in the matter. With all good wishes, Believe me to be, Your affectionate uncle, ROGER MELTON. TO RUPERT SENT LEGER, ESQ. _Letter from Rupert Sent Leger to Roger Melton_, _July_ 5, 1892. MY DEAR UNCLE, Thank you heartily for your kind letter. I quite understand, and now see that I should not have asked you as a trustee, such a thing. I see your duty clearly, and agree with your view of it. I enclose a letter directed to my trustees, asking them to pay over annually till further direction to Miss Janet MacKelpie at this address whatever sum may remain over from the interest of my mother's bequest after deduction of such expenses as you may deem fit for my maintenance, clothing, and education, together with a sum of one pound sterling per month, which was the amount my dear mother always gave me for my personal use--"pocket-money," she called it. With regard to your most kind and generous offer to give to my dear Aunt Janet the sum which I would have given myself, had such been in my power, I thank you most truly and sincerely, both for my dear aunt (to whom, of course, I shall not mention the matter unless you specially authorize me) and myself. But, indeed, I think it will be better not to offer it. Aunt Janet is very proud, and would not accept any benefit. With me, of course, it is different, for since I was a wee child she has been like another mother to me, and I love her very much. Since my mother died--and she, of course, was all-in-all to me--there has been no other. And in such a love as ours pride has no place. Thank you again, dear uncle, and God bless you. Your loving nephew, RUPERT SENT LEGER. ERNEST ROGER HALBARD MELTON'S RECORD--_Continued_. And now _re_ the remaining one of Sir Geoffrey's children, Roger. He was the third child and third son, the only daughter, Patience, having been born twenty years after the last of the four sons. Concerning Roger, I shall put down all I have heard of him from my father and grandfather. From my grand-aunt I heard nothing, I was a very small kid when she died; but I remember seeing her, but only once. A very tall, handsome woman of a little over thirty, with very dark hair and light-coloured eyes. I think they were either grey or blue, but I can't remember which. She looked very proud and haughty, but I am bound to say that she was very nice to me. I remember feeling very jealous of Rupert because his mother looked so distinguished. Rupert was eight years older than me, and I was afraid he would beat me if I said anything he did not like. So I was silent except when I forgot to be, and Rupert said very unkindly, and I think very unfairly, that I was "A sulky little beast." I haven't forgot that, and I don't mean to. However, it doesn't matter much what he said or thought. There he is--if he is at all--where no one can find him, with no money or nothing, for what little he had he settled when he came of age, on the MacSkelpie. He wanted to give it to her when his mother died, but father, who was a trustee, refused; and Uncle Roger, as I call him, who is another, thought the trustees had no power to allow Rupert to throw away his matrimony, as I called it, making a joke to father when he called it patrimony. Old Sir Colin MacSkelpie, who is the third, said he couldn't take any part in such a permission, as the MacSkelpie was his niece. He is a rude old man, that. I remember when, not remembering his relationship, I spoke of the MacSkelpie, he caught me a clip on the ear that sent me across the room. His Scotch is very broad. I can hear him say, "Hae some attempt at even Soothern manners, and dinna misca' yer betters, ye young puddock, or I'll wring yer snoot!" Father was, I could see, very much offended, but he didn't say anything. He remembered, I think, that the General is a V.C. man, and was fond of fighting duels. But to show that the fault was not his, _he_ wrung _my_ ear--and the same ear too! I suppose he thought that was justice! But it's only right to say that he made up for it afterwards. When the General had gone he gave me a five-pound note. I don't think Uncle Roger was very pleased with the way Rupert behaved about the legacy, for I don't think he ever saw him from that day to this. Perhaps, of course, it was because Rupert ran away shortly afterwards; but I shall tell about that when I come to him. After all, why should my uncle bother about him? He is not a Melton at all, and I am to be Head of the House--of course, when the Lord thinks right to take father to Himself! Uncle Roger has tons of money, and he never married, so if he wants to leave it in the right direction he needn't have any trouble. He made his money in what he calls "the Eastern Trade." This, so far as I can gather, takes in the Levant and all east of it. I know he has what they call in trade "houses" in all sorts of places--Turkey, and Greece, and all round them, Morocco, Egypt, and Southern Russia, and the Holy Land; then on to Persia, India, and all round it; the Chersonese, China, Japan, and the Pacific Islands. It is not to be expected that we landowners can know much about trade, but my uncle covers--or alas! I must say "covered"--a lot of ground, I can tell you. Uncle Roger was a very grim sort of man, and only that I was brought up to try and be kind to him I shouldn't ever have dared to speak to him. But when was a child father and mother--especially mother--forced me to go and see him and be affectionate to him. He wasn't ever even civil to me, that I can remember--grumpy old bear! But, then, he never saw Rupert at all, so that I take it Master R--- is out of the running altogether for testamentary honours. The last time I saw him myself he was distinctly rude. He treated me as a boy, though I was getting on for eighteen years of age. I came into his office without knocking; and without looking up from his desk, where he was writing, he said: "Get out! Why do you venture to disturb me when I'm busy? Get out, and be damned to you!" I waited where I was, ready to transfix him with my eye when he should look up, for I cannot forget that when my father dies I shall be Head of my House. But when he did there was no transfixing possible. He said quite coolly: "Oh, it's you, is it? I thought it was one of my office boys. Sit down, if you want to see me, and wait till I am ready." So I sat down and waited. Father always said that I should try to conciliate and please my uncle. Father is a very shrewd man, and Uncle Roger is a very rich one. But I don't think Uncle R--- is as shrewd as he thinks he is. He sometimes makes awful mistakes in business. For instance, some years ago he bought an enormous estate on the Adriatic, in the country they call the "Land of Blue Mountains." At least, he says he bought it. He told father so in confidence. But he didn't show any title-deeds, and I'm greatly afraid he was "had." A bad job for me that he was, for father believes he paid an enormous sum for it, and as I am his natural heir, it reduces his available estate to so much less. And now about Rupert. As I have said, he ran away when he was about fourteen, and we did not hear about him for years. When we--or, rather, my father--did hear of him, it was no good that he heard. He had gone as a cabin-boy on a sailing ship round the Horn. Then he joined an exploring party through the centre of Patagonia, and then another up in Alaska, and a third to the Aleutian Islands. After that he went through Central America, and then to Western Africa, the Pacific Islands, India, and a lot of places. We all know the wisdom of the adage that "A rolling stone gathers no moss"; and certainly, if there be any value in moss, Cousin Rupert will die a poor man. Indeed, nothing will stand his idiotic, boastful wastefulness. Look at the way in which, when he came of age, he made over all his mother's little fortune to the MacSkelpie! I am sure that, though Uncle Roger made no comment to my father, who, as Head of our House, should, of course, have been informed, he was not pleased. My mother, who has a good fortune in her own right, and has had the sense to keep it in her own control--as I am to inherit it, and it is not in the entail, I am therefore quite impartial--I can approve of her spirited conduct in the matter. We never did think much of Rupert, anyhow; but now, since he is in the way to be a pauper, and therefore a dangerous nuisance, we look on him as quite an outsider. We know what he really is. For my own part, I loathe and despise him. Just now we are irritated with him, for we are all kept on tenterhooks regarding my dear Uncle Roger's Will. For Mr. Trent, the attorney who regulated my dear uncle's affairs and has possession of the Will, says it is necessary to know where every possible beneficiary is to be found before making the Will public, so we all have to wait. It is especially hard on me, who am the natural heir. It is very thoughtless indeed of Rupert to keep away like that. I wrote to old MacSkelpie about it, but he didn't seem to understand or to be at all anxious--he is not the heir! He said that probably Rupert Sent Leger--he, too, keeps to the old spelling--did not know of his uncle's death, or he would have taken steps to relieve our anxiety. Our anxiety, forsooth! We are not anxious; we only wish to _know_. And if we--and especially me--who have all the annoyance of thinking of the detestable and unfair death-duties, are anxious, we should be so. Well, anyhow, he'll get a properly bitter disappointment and set down when he does turn up and discovers that he is a pauper without hope! * * * * * To-day we (father and I) had letters from Mr. Trent, telling us that the whereabouts of "Mr. Rupert Sent Leger" had been discovered, and that a letter disclosing the fact of poor Uncle Roger's death had been sent to him. He was at Titicaca when last heard of. So goodness only knows when he may get the letter, which "asks him to come home at once, but only gives to him such information about the Will as has already been given to every member of the testator's family." And that is nil. I dare say we shall be kept waiting for months before we get hold of the estate which is ours. It is too bad! _Letter from Edward Bingham Trent to Ernest Roger Halbard Melton_. 176, LINCOLN'S INN FIELDS, _December_ 28, 1906. DEAR SIR, I am glad to be able to inform you that I have just heard by letter from Mr. Rupert St. Leger that he intended leaving Rio de Janeiro by the S.S. _Amazon_, of the Royal Mail Company, on December 15. He further stated that he would cable just before leaving Rio de Janeiro, to say on what day the ship was expected to arrive in London. As all the others possibly interested in the Will of the late Roger Melton, and whose names are given to me in his instructions regarding the reading of the Will, have been advised, and have expressed their intention of being present at that event on being apprised of the time and place, I now beg to inform you that by cable message received the date scheduled for arrival at the Port of London was January 1 prox. I therefore beg to notify you, subject to postponement due to the non-arrival of the _Amazon_, the reading of the Will of the late Roger Melton, Esq., will take place in my office on Thursday, January 3 prox., at eleven o'clock a.m. I have the honour to be, sir, Yours faithfully, EDWARD BINGHAM TRENT. TO ERNEST ROGER HALBARD MELTON, ESQ., HUMCROFT, SALOP. Cable: _Rupert Sent Leger to Edward Bingham Trent_. _Amazon_ arrives London January 1. SENT LEGER. _Telegram_ (_per Lloyd's_): _Rupert Sent Leger to Edward Bingham Trent_. THE LIZARD, _December_ 31. _Amazon_ arrives London to-morrow morning. All well.--LEGER. _Telegram_: _Edward Bingham Trent to Ernest Roger Halbard Mellon_. Rupert Sent Leger arrived. Reading Will takes place as arranged.--TRENT. ERNEST ROGER HALBARD MELTON'S RECORD. _January_ 4, 1907. The reading of Uncle Roger's Will is over. Father got a duplicate of Mr. Trent's letter to me, and of the cable and two telegrams pasted into this Record. We both waited patiently till the third--that is, we did not say anything. The only impatient member of our family was my mother. She _did_ say things, and if old Trent had been here his ears would have been red. She said what ridiculous nonsense it was delaying the reading of the Will, and keeping the Heir waiting for the arrival of an obscure person who wasn't even a member of the family, inasmuch as he didn't bear the name. I don't think it's quite respectful to one who is some day to be Head of the House! I thought father was weakening in his patience when he said: "True, my dear--true!" and got up and left the room. Some time afterwards when I passed the library I heard him walking up and down. Father and I went up to town on the afternoon of Wednesday, January 2. We stayed, of course, at Claridge's, where we always stay when we go to town. Mother wanted to come, too, but father thought it better not. She would not agree to stay at home till we both promised to send her separate telegrams after the reading. At five minutes to eleven we entered Mr. Trent's office. Father would not go a moment earlier, as he said it was bad form to seem eager at any time, but most of all at the reading of a will. It was a rotten grind, for we had to be walking all over the neighbourhood for half an hour before it was time, not to be too early. When we went into the room we found there General Sir Colin MacKelpie and a big man, very bronzed, whom I took to be Rupert St. Leger--not a very creditable connection to look at, I thought! He and old MacKelpie took care to be in time! Rather low, I thought it. Mr. St. Leger was reading a letter. He had evidently come in but lately, for though he seemed to be eager about it, he was only at the first page, and I could see that there were many sheets. He did not look up when we came in, or till he had finished the letter; and you may be sure that neither I nor my father (who, as Head of the House, should have had more respect from him) took the trouble to go to him. After all, he is a pauper and a wastrel, and he has not the honour of bearing our Name. The General, however, came forward and greeted us both cordially. He evidently had forgotten--or pretended to have--the discourteous way he once treated me, for he spoke to me quite in a friendly way--I thought more warmly than he did to father. I was pleased to be spoken to so nicely, for, after all, whatever his manners may be, he is a distinguished man--has won the V.C. and a Baronetcy. He got the latter not long ago, after the Frontier War in India. I was not, however, led away into cordiality myself. I had not forgotten his rudeness, and I thought that he might be sucking up to me. I knew that when I had my dear Uncle Roger's many millions I should be a rather important person; and, of course, he knew it too. So I got even with him for his former impudence. When he held out his hand I put one finger in it, and said, "How do?" He got very red and turned away. Father and he had ended by glaring at each other, so neither of us was sorry to be done with him. All the time Mr. St. Leger did not seem to see or hear anything, but went on reading his letter. I thought the old MacSkelpie was going to bring him into the matter between us, for as he turned away I heard him say something under his breath. It sounded like "Help!" but Mr. S--- did not hear. He certainly no notice of it. As the MacS--- and Mr. S--- sat quite silent, neither looking at us, and as father was sitting on the other side of the room with his chin in his hand, and as I wanted to show that I was indifferent to the two S's, I took out this notebook, and went on with the Record, bringing it up to this moment. THE RECORD--_Continued_. When I had finished writing I looked over at Rupert. When he saw us, he jumped up and went over to father and shook his hand quite warmly. Father took him very coolly. Rupert, however, did not seem to see it, but came towards me heartily. I happened to be doing something else at the moment, and at first I did not see his hand; but just as I was looking at it the clock struck eleven. Whilst it was striking Mr. Trent came into the room. Close behind him came his clerk, carrying a locked tin box. There were two other men also. He bowed to us all in turn, beginning with me. I was standing opposite the door; the others were scattered about. Father sat still, but Sir Colin and Mr. St. Leger rose. Mr. Trent not did shake hands with any of us--not even me. Nothing but his respectful bow. That is the etiquette for an attorney, I understand, on such formal occasions. He sat down at the end of the big table in the centre of the room, and asked us to sit round. Father, of course, as Head of the Family, took the seat at his right hand. Sir Colin and St. Leger went to the other side, the former taking the seat next to the attorney. The General knows, of course, that a Baronet takes precedence at a ceremony. I may be a Baronet some day myself, and have to know these things. The clerk took the key which his master handed to him, opened the tin box, and took from it a bundle of papers tied with red tape. This he placed before the attorney, and put the empty box behind him on the floor. Then he and the other man sat at the far end of the table; the latter took out a big notebook and several pencils, and put them before him. He was evidently a shorthand-writer. Mr. Trent removed the tape from the bundle of papers, which he placed a little distance in front of him. He took a sealed envelope from the top, broke the seal, opened the envelope, and from it took a parchment, in the folds of which were some sealed envelopes, which he laid in a heap in front of the other paper. Then he unfolded the parchment, and laid it before him with the outside page up. He fixed his glasses, and said: "Gentlemen, the sealed envelope which you have seen me open is endorsed 'My Last Will and Testament--ROGER MELTON, _June_, 1906.' This document"--holding it up--"is as follows: "'I Roger Melton of Openshaw Grange in the County of Dorset; of number one hundred and twenty-three Berkeley Square London; and of the Castle of Vissarion in the Land of the Blue Mountains, being of sound mind do make this my Last Will and Testament on this day Monday the eleventh day of the month of June in the year of Our Lord one thousand nine hundred and six at the office of my old friend and Attorney Edward Bingham Trent in number one hundred and seventy-six Lincoln's Inn Fields London hereby revoking all other wills that I may have formerly made and giving this as my sole and last Will making dispositions of my property as follows: "'1. To my kinsman and nephew Ernest Halbard Melton Esquire, justice of the Peace, Humcroft the County of Salop, for his sole use and benefit the sum of twenty thousand pounds sterling free of all Duties Taxes and charges whatever to be paid out of my Five per centum Bonds of the City of Montreal, Canada. "'2. To my respected friend and colleague as co-trustee to the Will of my late sister Patience late widow of the late Captain Rupert Sent Leger who predeceased her, Major-General Sir Colin Alexander MacKelpie, Baronet, holder of the Victoria Cross, Knight Commander of the Order of the Bath, of Croom in the county of Ross Scotland a sum of Twenty thousand pounds sterling free of all Taxes and charges whatsoever; to be paid out of my Five per centum Bonds of the City of Toronto, Canada. "'3. To Miss Janet MacKelpie presently residing at Croom in the County of Ross Scotland the sum of Twenty thousand pounds sterling free of all Duties Taxes and Charges whatsoever, to be paid out of my Five per centum Bonds of the London County Council. "'4. To the various persons charities and Trustees named in the schedule attached to this Will and marked A. the various sums mentioned therein, all free of Duties and Taxes and charges whatsoever.'" Here Mr. Trent read out the list here following, and announced for our immediate understanding of the situation the total amount as two hundred and fifty thousand pounds. Many of the beneficiaries were old friends, comrades, dependents, and servants, some of them being left

fit

How many times the word 'fit' appears in the text?

you; and if the sword of an old soldier--it is all I have--can ever serve you in any way, it and its master's life are, and shall be, whilst life remains to him, yours. It grieves me to think that Janet cannot, through my act, be given that ease and tranquillity of spirit which come from competence. But, my dear Rupert, you will be of full age in seven years more. Then, if you are in the same mind--and I am sure you will not change--you, being your own master, can do freely as you will. In the meantime, to secure, so far as I can, my dear Janet against any malign stroke of fortune, I have given orders to my factor to remit semi-annually to Janet one full half of such income as may be derived in any form from my estate of Croom. It is, I am sorry to say, heavily mortgaged; but of such as is--or may be, free from such charge as the mortgage entails--something at least will, I trust, remain to her. And, my dear boy, I can frankly say that it is to me a real pleasure that you and I can be linked in one more bond in this association of purpose. I have always held you in my heart as though you were my own son. Let me tell you now that you have acted as I should have liked a son of my own, had I been blessed with one, to have acted. God bless you, my dear. Yours ever, COLIN ALEX. MACKELPIE. _Letter from Roger Melton_, _of Openshaw Grange_, _to Rupert Sent Leger_, _Esq._, 14, _Newland Park_, _Dulwich_, _London_, _S.E._ _July_ 1, 1892. MY DEAR NEPHEW, Your letter of the 30th ult. received. Have carefully considered matter stated, and have come to the conclusion that my duty as a trustee would not allow me to give full consent, as you wish. Let me explain. The testator, in making her will, intended that such fortune as she had at disposal should be used to supply to you her son such benefits as its annual product should procure. To this end, and to provide against wastefulness or foolishness on your part, or, indeed, against any generosity, howsoever worthy, which might impoverish you and so defeat her benevolent intentions regarding your education, comfort, and future good, she did not place the estate directly in your hands, leaving you to do as you might feel inclined about it. But, on the contrary, she entrusted the corpus of it in the hands of men whom she believed should be resolute enough and strong enough to carry out her intent, even against any cajolements or pressure which might be employed to the contrary. It being her intention, then, that such trustees as she appointed would use for your benefit the interest accruing annually from the capital at command, _and that only_ (as specifically directed in the will), so that on your arriving at full age the capital entrusted to us should be handed over to you intact, I find a hard-and-fast duty in the matter of adhering exactly to the directions given. I have no doubt that my co-trustees regard the matter in exactly the same light. Under the circumstances, therefore, we, the trustees, have not only a single and united duty towards you as the object of the testator's wishes, but towards each other as regards the manner of the carrying out of that duty. I take it, therefore, that it would not be consonant with the spirit of the trust or of our own ideas in accepting it that any of us should take a course pleasant to himself which would or might involve a stern opposition on the part of other of the co-trustees. We have each of us to do the unpleasant part of this duty without fear or favour. You understand, of course, that the time which must elapse before you come into absolute possession of your estate is a limited one. As by the terms of the will we are to hand over our trust when you have reached the age of twenty-one, there are only seven years to expire. But till then, though I should gladly meet your wishes if I could, I must adhere to the duty which I have undertaken. At the expiration of that period you will be quite free to divest yourself of your estate without protest or comment of any man. Having now expressed as clearly as I can the limitations by which I am bound with regard to the corpus of your estate, let me say that in any other way which is in my power or discretion I shall be most happy to see your wishes carried out so far as rests with me. Indeed, I shall undertake to use what influence I may possess with my co-trustees to induce them to take a similar view of your wishes. In my own thinking you are quite free to use your own property in your own way. But as, until you shall have attained your majority, you have only life-user in your mother's bequest, you are only at liberty to deal with the annual increment. On our part as trustees we have a first charge on that increment to be used for purposes of your maintenance, clothes, and education. As to what may remain over each half-year, you will be free to deal with it as you choose. On receiving from you a written authorization to your trustees, if you desire the whole sum or any part of it to be paid over to Miss Janet MacKelpie, I shall see that it is effected. Believe me, that our duty is to protect the corpus of the estate, and to this end we may not act on any instruction to imperil it. But there our warranty stops. We can deal during our trusteeship with the corpus only. Further, lest there should arise any error on your part, we can deal with any general instruction for only so long as it may remain unrevoked. You are, and must be, free to alter your instructions or authorizations at any time. Thus your latest document must be used for our guidance. As to the general principle involved in your wish I make no comment. You are at liberty to deal with your own how you will. I quite understand that your impulse is a generous one, and I fully believe that it is in consonance with what had always been the wishes of my sister. Had she been happily alive and had to give judgment of your intent, I am convinced that she would have approved. Therefore, my dear nephew, should you so wish, I shall be happy for her sake as well as your own to pay over on your account (as a confidential matter between you and me), but from my own pocket, a sum equal to that which you wish transferred to Miss Janet MacKelpie. On hearing from you I shall know how to act in the matter. With all good wishes, Believe me to be, Your affectionate uncle, ROGER MELTON. TO RUPERT SENT LEGER, ESQ. _Letter from Rupert Sent Leger to Roger Melton_, _July_ 5, 1892. MY DEAR UNCLE, Thank you heartily for your kind letter. I quite understand, and now see that I should not have asked you as a trustee, such a thing. I see your duty clearly, and agree with your view of it. I enclose a letter directed to my trustees, asking them to pay over annually till further direction to Miss Janet MacKelpie at this address whatever sum may remain over from the interest of my mother's bequest after deduction of such expenses as you may deem fit for my maintenance, clothing, and education, together with a sum of one pound sterling per month, which was the amount my dear mother always gave me for my personal use--"pocket-money," she called it. With regard to your most kind and generous offer to give to my dear Aunt Janet the sum which I would have given myself, had such been in my power, I thank you most truly and sincerely, both for my dear aunt (to whom, of course, I shall not mention the matter unless you specially authorize me) and myself. But, indeed, I think it will be better not to offer it. Aunt Janet is very proud, and would not accept any benefit. With me, of course, it is different, for since I was a wee child she has been like another mother to me, and I love her very much. Since my mother died--and she, of course, was all-in-all to me--there has been no other. And in such a love as ours pride has no place. Thank you again, dear uncle, and God bless you. Your loving nephew, RUPERT SENT LEGER. ERNEST ROGER HALBARD MELTON'S RECORD--_Continued_. And now _re_ the remaining one of Sir Geoffrey's children, Roger. He was the third child and third son, the only daughter, Patience, having been born twenty years after the last of the four sons. Concerning Roger, I shall put down all I have heard of him from my father and grandfather. From my grand-aunt I heard nothing, I was a very small kid when she died; but I remember seeing her, but only once. A very tall, handsome woman of a little over thirty, with very dark hair and light-coloured eyes. I think they were either grey or blue, but I can't remember which. She looked very proud and haughty, but I am bound to say that she was very nice to me. I remember feeling very jealous of Rupert because his mother looked so distinguished. Rupert was eight years older than me, and I was afraid he would beat me if I said anything he did not like. So I was silent except when I forgot to be, and Rupert said very unkindly, and I think very unfairly, that I was "A sulky little beast." I haven't forgot that, and I don't mean to. However, it doesn't matter much what he said or thought. There he is--if he is at all--where no one can find him, with no money or nothing, for what little he had he settled when he came of age, on the MacSkelpie. He wanted to give it to her when his mother died, but father, who was a trustee, refused; and Uncle Roger, as I call him, who is another, thought the trustees had no power to allow Rupert to throw away his matrimony, as I called it, making a joke to father when he called it patrimony. Old Sir Colin MacSkelpie, who is the third, said he couldn't take any part in such a permission, as the MacSkelpie was his niece. He is a rude old man, that. I remember when, not remembering his relationship, I spoke of the MacSkelpie, he caught me a clip on the ear that sent me across the room. His Scotch is very broad. I can hear him say, "Hae some attempt at even Soothern manners, and dinna misca' yer betters, ye young puddock, or I'll wring yer snoot!" Father was, I could see, very much offended, but he didn't say anything. He remembered, I think, that the General is a V.C. man, and was fond of fighting duels. But to show that the fault was not his, _he_ wrung _my_ ear--and the same ear too! I suppose he thought that was justice! But it's only right to say that he made up for it afterwards. When the General had gone he gave me a five-pound note. I don't think Uncle Roger was very pleased with the way Rupert behaved about the legacy, for I don't think he ever saw him from that day to this. Perhaps, of course, it was because Rupert ran away shortly afterwards; but I shall tell about that when I come to him. After all, why should my uncle bother about him? He is not a Melton at all, and I am to be Head of the House--of course, when the Lord thinks right to take father to Himself! Uncle Roger has tons of money, and he never married, so if he wants to leave it in the right direction he needn't have any trouble. He made his money in what he calls "the Eastern Trade." This, so far as I can gather, takes in the Levant and all east of it. I know he has what they call in trade "houses" in all sorts of places--Turkey, and Greece, and all round them, Morocco, Egypt, and Southern Russia, and the Holy Land; then on to Persia, India, and all round it; the Chersonese, China, Japan, and the Pacific Islands. It is not to be expected that we landowners can know much about trade, but my uncle covers--or alas! I must say "covered"--a lot of ground, I can tell you. Uncle Roger was a very grim sort of man, and only that I was brought up to try and be kind to him I shouldn't ever have dared to speak to him. But when was a child father and mother--especially mother--forced me to go and see him and be affectionate to him. He wasn't ever even civil to me, that I can remember--grumpy old bear! But, then, he never saw Rupert at all, so that I take it Master R--- is out of the running altogether for testamentary honours. The last time I saw him myself he was distinctly rude. He treated me as a boy, though I was getting on for eighteen years of age. I came into his office without knocking; and without looking up from his desk, where he was writing, he said: "Get out! Why do you venture to disturb me when I'm busy? Get out, and be damned to you!" I waited where I was, ready to transfix him with my eye when he should look up, for I cannot forget that when my father dies I shall be Head of my House. But when he did there was no transfixing possible. He said quite coolly: "Oh, it's you, is it? I thought it was one of my office boys. Sit down, if you want to see me, and wait till I am ready." So I sat down and waited. Father always said that I should try to conciliate and please my uncle. Father is a very shrewd man, and Uncle Roger is a very rich one. But I don't think Uncle R--- is as shrewd as he thinks he is. He sometimes makes awful mistakes in business. For instance, some years ago he bought an enormous estate on the Adriatic, in the country they call the "Land of Blue Mountains." At least, he says he bought it. He told father so in confidence. But he didn't show any title-deeds, and I'm greatly afraid he was "had." A bad job for me that he was, for father believes he paid an enormous sum for it, and as I am his natural heir, it reduces his available estate to so much less. And now about Rupert. As I have said, he ran away when he was about fourteen, and we did not hear about him for years. When we--or, rather, my father--did hear of him, it was no good that he heard. He had gone as a cabin-boy on a sailing ship round the Horn. Then he joined an exploring party through the centre of Patagonia, and then another up in Alaska, and a third to the Aleutian Islands. After that he went through Central America, and then to Western Africa, the Pacific Islands, India, and a lot of places. We all know the wisdom of the adage that "A rolling stone gathers no moss"; and certainly, if there be any value in moss, Cousin Rupert will die a poor man. Indeed, nothing will stand his idiotic, boastful wastefulness. Look at the way in which, when he came of age, he made over all his mother's little fortune to the MacSkelpie! I am sure that, though Uncle Roger made no comment to my father, who, as Head of our House, should, of course, have been informed, he was not pleased. My mother, who has a good fortune in her own right, and has had the sense to keep it in her own control--as I am to inherit it, and it is not in the entail, I am therefore quite impartial--I can approve of her spirited conduct in the matter. We never did think much of Rupert, anyhow; but now, since he is in the way to be a pauper, and therefore a dangerous nuisance, we look on him as quite an outsider. We know what he really is. For my own part, I loathe and despise him. Just now we are irritated with him, for we are all kept on tenterhooks regarding my dear Uncle Roger's Will. For Mr. Trent, the attorney who regulated my dear uncle's affairs and has possession of the Will, says it is necessary to know where every possible beneficiary is to be found before making the Will public, so we all have to wait. It is especially hard on me, who am the natural heir. It is very thoughtless indeed of Rupert to keep away like that. I wrote to old MacSkelpie about it, but he didn't seem to understand or to be at all anxious--he is not the heir! He said that probably Rupert Sent Leger--he, too, keeps to the old spelling--did not know of his uncle's death, or he would have taken steps to relieve our anxiety. Our anxiety, forsooth! We are not anxious; we only wish to _know_. And if we--and especially me--who have all the annoyance of thinking of the detestable and unfair death-duties, are anxious, we should be so. Well, anyhow, he'll get a properly bitter disappointment and set down when he does turn up and discovers that he is a pauper without hope! * * * * * To-day we (father and I) had letters from Mr. Trent, telling us that the whereabouts of "Mr. Rupert Sent Leger" had been discovered, and that a letter disclosing the fact of poor Uncle Roger's death had been sent to him. He was at Titicaca when last heard of. So goodness only knows when he may get the letter, which "asks him to come home at once, but only gives to him such information about the Will as has already been given to every member of the testator's family." And that is nil. I dare say we shall be kept waiting for months before we get hold of the estate which is ours. It is too bad! _Letter from Edward Bingham Trent to Ernest Roger Halbard Melton_. 176, LINCOLN'S INN FIELDS, _December_ 28, 1906. DEAR SIR, I am glad to be able to inform you that I have just heard by letter from Mr. Rupert St. Leger that he intended leaving Rio de Janeiro by the S.S. _Amazon_, of the Royal Mail Company, on December 15. He further stated that he would cable just before leaving Rio de Janeiro, to say on what day the ship was expected to arrive in London. As all the others possibly interested in the Will of the late Roger Melton, and whose names are given to me in his instructions regarding the reading of the Will, have been advised, and have expressed their intention of being present at that event on being apprised of the time and place, I now beg to inform you that by cable message received the date scheduled for arrival at the Port of London was January 1 prox. I therefore beg to notify you, subject to postponement due to the non-arrival of the _Amazon_, the reading of the Will of the late Roger Melton, Esq., will take place in my office on Thursday, January 3 prox., at eleven o'clock a.m. I have the honour to be, sir, Yours faithfully, EDWARD BINGHAM TRENT. TO ERNEST ROGER HALBARD MELTON, ESQ., HUMCROFT, SALOP. Cable: _Rupert Sent Leger to Edward Bingham Trent_. _Amazon_ arrives London January 1. SENT LEGER. _Telegram_ (_per Lloyd's_): _Rupert Sent Leger to Edward Bingham Trent_. THE LIZARD, _December_ 31. _Amazon_ arrives London to-morrow morning. All well.--LEGER. _Telegram_: _Edward Bingham Trent to Ernest Roger Halbard Mellon_. Rupert Sent Leger arrived. Reading Will takes place as arranged.--TRENT. ERNEST ROGER HALBARD MELTON'S RECORD. _January_ 4, 1907. The reading of Uncle Roger's Will is over. Father got a duplicate of Mr. Trent's letter to me, and of the cable and two telegrams pasted into this Record. We both waited patiently till the third--that is, we did not say anything. The only impatient member of our family was my mother. She _did_ say things, and if old Trent had been here his ears would have been red. She said what ridiculous nonsense it was delaying the reading of the Will, and keeping the Heir waiting for the arrival of an obscure person who wasn't even a member of the family, inasmuch as he didn't bear the name. I don't think it's quite respectful to one who is some day to be Head of the House! I thought father was weakening in his patience when he said: "True, my dear--true!" and got up and left the room. Some time afterwards when I passed the library I heard him walking up and down. Father and I went up to town on the afternoon of Wednesday, January 2. We stayed, of course, at Claridge's, where we always stay when we go to town. Mother wanted to come, too, but father thought it better not. She would not agree to stay at home till we both promised to send her separate telegrams after the reading. At five minutes to eleven we entered Mr. Trent's office. Father would not go a moment earlier, as he said it was bad form to seem eager at any time, but most of all at the reading of a will. It was a rotten grind, for we had to be walking all over the neighbourhood for half an hour before it was time, not to be too early. When we went into the room we found there General Sir Colin MacKelpie and a big man, very bronzed, whom I took to be Rupert St. Leger--not a very creditable connection to look at, I thought! He and old MacKelpie took care to be in time! Rather low, I thought it. Mr. St. Leger was reading a letter. He had evidently come in but lately, for though he seemed to be eager about it, he was only at the first page, and I could see that there were many sheets. He did not look up when we came in, or till he had finished the letter; and you may be sure that neither I nor my father (who, as Head of the House, should have had more respect from him) took the trouble to go to him. After all, he is a pauper and a wastrel, and he has not the honour of bearing our Name. The General, however, came forward and greeted us both cordially. He evidently had forgotten--or pretended to have--the discourteous way he once treated me, for he spoke to me quite in a friendly way--I thought more warmly than he did to father. I was pleased to be spoken to so nicely, for, after all, whatever his manners may be, he is a distinguished man--has won the V.C. and a Baronetcy. He got the latter not long ago, after the Frontier War in India. I was not, however, led away into cordiality myself. I had not forgotten his rudeness, and I thought that he might be sucking up to me. I knew that when I had my dear Uncle Roger's many millions I should be a rather important person; and, of course, he knew it too. So I got even with him for his former impudence. When he held out his hand I put one finger in it, and said, "How do?" He got very red and turned away. Father and he had ended by glaring at each other, so neither of us was sorry to be done with him. All the time Mr. St. Leger did not seem to see or hear anything, but went on reading his letter. I thought the old MacSkelpie was going to bring him into the matter between us, for as he turned away I heard him say something under his breath. It sounded like "Help!" but Mr. S--- did not hear. He certainly no notice of it. As the MacS--- and Mr. S--- sat quite silent, neither looking at us, and as father was sitting on the other side of the room with his chin in his hand, and as I wanted to show that I was indifferent to the two S's, I took out this notebook, and went on with the Record, bringing it up to this moment. THE RECORD--_Continued_. When I had finished writing I looked over at Rupert. When he saw us, he jumped up and went over to father and shook his hand quite warmly. Father took him very coolly. Rupert, however, did not seem to see it, but came towards me heartily. I happened to be doing something else at the moment, and at first I did not see his hand; but just as I was looking at it the clock struck eleven. Whilst it was striking Mr. Trent came into the room. Close behind him came his clerk, carrying a locked tin box. There were two other men also. He bowed to us all in turn, beginning with me. I was standing opposite the door; the others were scattered about. Father sat still, but Sir Colin and Mr. St. Leger rose. Mr. Trent not did shake hands with any of us--not even me. Nothing but his respectful bow. That is the etiquette for an attorney, I understand, on such formal occasions. He sat down at the end of the big table in the centre of the room, and asked us to sit round. Father, of course, as Head of the Family, took the seat at his right hand. Sir Colin and St. Leger went to the other side, the former taking the seat next to the attorney. The General knows, of course, that a Baronet takes precedence at a ceremony. I may be a Baronet some day myself, and have to know these things. The clerk took the key which his master handed to him, opened the tin box, and took from it a bundle of papers tied with red tape. This he placed before the attorney, and put the empty box behind him on the floor. Then he and the other man sat at the far end of the table; the latter took out a big notebook and several pencils, and put them before him. He was evidently a shorthand-writer. Mr. Trent removed the tape from the bundle of papers, which he placed a little distance in front of him. He took a sealed envelope from the top, broke the seal, opened the envelope, and from it took a parchment, in the folds of which were some sealed envelopes, which he laid in a heap in front of the other paper. Then he unfolded the parchment, and laid it before him with the outside page up. He fixed his glasses, and said: "Gentlemen, the sealed envelope which you have seen me open is endorsed 'My Last Will and Testament--ROGER MELTON, _June_, 1906.' This document"--holding it up--"is as follows: "'I Roger Melton of Openshaw Grange in the County of Dorset; of number one hundred and twenty-three Berkeley Square London; and of the Castle of Vissarion in the Land of the Blue Mountains, being of sound mind do make this my Last Will and Testament on this day Monday the eleventh day of the month of June in the year of Our Lord one thousand nine hundred and six at the office of my old friend and Attorney Edward Bingham Trent in number one hundred and seventy-six Lincoln's Inn Fields London hereby revoking all other wills that I may have formerly made and giving this as my sole and last Will making dispositions of my property as follows: "'1. To my kinsman and nephew Ernest Halbard Melton Esquire, justice of the Peace, Humcroft the County of Salop, for his sole use and benefit the sum of twenty thousand pounds sterling free of all Duties Taxes and charges whatever to be paid out of my Five per centum Bonds of the City of Montreal, Canada. "'2. To my respected friend and colleague as co-trustee to the Will of my late sister Patience late widow of the late Captain Rupert Sent Leger who predeceased her, Major-General Sir Colin Alexander MacKelpie, Baronet, holder of the Victoria Cross, Knight Commander of the Order of the Bath, of Croom in the county of Ross Scotland a sum of Twenty thousand pounds sterling free of all Taxes and charges whatsoever; to be paid out of my Five per centum Bonds of the City of Toronto, Canada. "'3. To Miss Janet MacKelpie presently residing at Croom in the County of Ross Scotland the sum of Twenty thousand pounds sterling free of all Duties Taxes and Charges whatsoever, to be paid out of my Five per centum Bonds of the London County Council. "'4. To the various persons charities and Trustees named in the schedule attached to this Will and marked A. the various sums mentioned therein, all free of Duties and Taxes and charges whatsoever.'" Here Mr. Trent read out the list here following, and announced for our immediate understanding of the situation the total amount as two hundred and fifty thousand pounds. Many of the beneficiaries were old friends, comrades, dependents, and servants, some of them being left

happy

How many times the word 'happy' appears in the text?

you; and if the sword of an old soldier--it is all I have--can ever serve you in any way, it and its master's life are, and shall be, whilst life remains to him, yours. It grieves me to think that Janet cannot, through my act, be given that ease and tranquillity of spirit which come from competence. But, my dear Rupert, you will be of full age in seven years more. Then, if you are in the same mind--and I am sure you will not change--you, being your own master, can do freely as you will. In the meantime, to secure, so far as I can, my dear Janet against any malign stroke of fortune, I have given orders to my factor to remit semi-annually to Janet one full half of such income as may be derived in any form from my estate of Croom. It is, I am sorry to say, heavily mortgaged; but of such as is--or may be, free from such charge as the mortgage entails--something at least will, I trust, remain to her. And, my dear boy, I can frankly say that it is to me a real pleasure that you and I can be linked in one more bond in this association of purpose. I have always held you in my heart as though you were my own son. Let me tell you now that you have acted as I should have liked a son of my own, had I been blessed with one, to have acted. God bless you, my dear. Yours ever, COLIN ALEX. MACKELPIE. _Letter from Roger Melton_, _of Openshaw Grange_, _to Rupert Sent Leger_, _Esq._, 14, _Newland Park_, _Dulwich_, _London_, _S.E._ _July_ 1, 1892. MY DEAR NEPHEW, Your letter of the 30th ult. received. Have carefully considered matter stated, and have come to the conclusion that my duty as a trustee would not allow me to give full consent, as you wish. Let me explain. The testator, in making her will, intended that such fortune as she had at disposal should be used to supply to you her son such benefits as its annual product should procure. To this end, and to provide against wastefulness or foolishness on your part, or, indeed, against any generosity, howsoever worthy, which might impoverish you and so defeat her benevolent intentions regarding your education, comfort, and future good, she did not place the estate directly in your hands, leaving you to do as you might feel inclined about it. But, on the contrary, she entrusted the corpus of it in the hands of men whom she believed should be resolute enough and strong enough to carry out her intent, even against any cajolements or pressure which might be employed to the contrary. It being her intention, then, that such trustees as she appointed would use for your benefit the interest accruing annually from the capital at command, _and that only_ (as specifically directed in the will), so that on your arriving at full age the capital entrusted to us should be handed over to you intact, I find a hard-and-fast duty in the matter of adhering exactly to the directions given. I have no doubt that my co-trustees regard the matter in exactly the same light. Under the circumstances, therefore, we, the trustees, have not only a single and united duty towards you as the object of the testator's wishes, but towards each other as regards the manner of the carrying out of that duty. I take it, therefore, that it would not be consonant with the spirit of the trust or of our own ideas in accepting it that any of us should take a course pleasant to himself which would or might involve a stern opposition on the part of other of the co-trustees. We have each of us to do the unpleasant part of this duty without fear or favour. You understand, of course, that the time which must elapse before you come into absolute possession of your estate is a limited one. As by the terms of the will we are to hand over our trust when you have reached the age of twenty-one, there are only seven years to expire. But till then, though I should gladly meet your wishes if I could, I must adhere to the duty which I have undertaken. At the expiration of that period you will be quite free to divest yourself of your estate without protest or comment of any man. Having now expressed as clearly as I can the limitations by which I am bound with regard to the corpus of your estate, let me say that in any other way which is in my power or discretion I shall be most happy to see your wishes carried out so far as rests with me. Indeed, I shall undertake to use what influence I may possess with my co-trustees to induce them to take a similar view of your wishes. In my own thinking you are quite free to use your own property in your own way. But as, until you shall have attained your majority, you have only life-user in your mother's bequest, you are only at liberty to deal with the annual increment. On our part as trustees we have a first charge on that increment to be used for purposes of your maintenance, clothes, and education. As to what may remain over each half-year, you will be free to deal with it as you choose. On receiving from you a written authorization to your trustees, if you desire the whole sum or any part of it to be paid over to Miss Janet MacKelpie, I shall see that it is effected. Believe me, that our duty is to protect the corpus of the estate, and to this end we may not act on any instruction to imperil it. But there our warranty stops. We can deal during our trusteeship with the corpus only. Further, lest there should arise any error on your part, we can deal with any general instruction for only so long as it may remain unrevoked. You are, and must be, free to alter your instructions or authorizations at any time. Thus your latest document must be used for our guidance. As to the general principle involved in your wish I make no comment. You are at liberty to deal with your own how you will. I quite understand that your impulse is a generous one, and I fully believe that it is in consonance with what had always been the wishes of my sister. Had she been happily alive and had to give judgment of your intent, I am convinced that she would have approved. Therefore, my dear nephew, should you so wish, I shall be happy for her sake as well as your own to pay over on your account (as a confidential matter between you and me), but from my own pocket, a sum equal to that which you wish transferred to Miss Janet MacKelpie. On hearing from you I shall know how to act in the matter. With all good wishes, Believe me to be, Your affectionate uncle, ROGER MELTON. TO RUPERT SENT LEGER, ESQ. _Letter from Rupert Sent Leger to Roger Melton_, _July_ 5, 1892. MY DEAR UNCLE, Thank you heartily for your kind letter. I quite understand, and now see that I should not have asked you as a trustee, such a thing. I see your duty clearly, and agree with your view of it. I enclose a letter directed to my trustees, asking them to pay over annually till further direction to Miss Janet MacKelpie at this address whatever sum may remain over from the interest of my mother's bequest after deduction of such expenses as you may deem fit for my maintenance, clothing, and education, together with a sum of one pound sterling per month, which was the amount my dear mother always gave me for my personal use--"pocket-money," she called it. With regard to your most kind and generous offer to give to my dear Aunt Janet the sum which I would have given myself, had such been in my power, I thank you most truly and sincerely, both for my dear aunt (to whom, of course, I shall not mention the matter unless you specially authorize me) and myself. But, indeed, I think it will be better not to offer it. Aunt Janet is very proud, and would not accept any benefit. With me, of course, it is different, for since I was a wee child she has been like another mother to me, and I love her very much. Since my mother died--and she, of course, was all-in-all to me--there has been no other. And in such a love as ours pride has no place. Thank you again, dear uncle, and God bless you. Your loving nephew, RUPERT SENT LEGER. ERNEST ROGER HALBARD MELTON'S RECORD--_Continued_. And now _re_ the remaining one of Sir Geoffrey's children, Roger. He was the third child and third son, the only daughter, Patience, having been born twenty years after the last of the four sons. Concerning Roger, I shall put down all I have heard of him from my father and grandfather. From my grand-aunt I heard nothing, I was a very small kid when she died; but I remember seeing her, but only once. A very tall, handsome woman of a little over thirty, with very dark hair and light-coloured eyes. I think they were either grey or blue, but I can't remember which. She looked very proud and haughty, but I am bound to say that she was very nice to me. I remember feeling very jealous of Rupert because his mother looked so distinguished. Rupert was eight years older than me, and I was afraid he would beat me if I said anything he did not like. So I was silent except when I forgot to be, and Rupert said very unkindly, and I think very unfairly, that I was "A sulky little beast." I haven't forgot that, and I don't mean to. However, it doesn't matter much what he said or thought. There he is--if he is at all--where no one can find him, with no money or nothing, for what little he had he settled when he came of age, on the MacSkelpie. He wanted to give it to her when his mother died, but father, who was a trustee, refused; and Uncle Roger, as I call him, who is another, thought the trustees had no power to allow Rupert to throw away his matrimony, as I called it, making a joke to father when he called it patrimony. Old Sir Colin MacSkelpie, who is the third, said he couldn't take any part in such a permission, as the MacSkelpie was his niece. He is a rude old man, that. I remember when, not remembering his relationship, I spoke of the MacSkelpie, he caught me a clip on the ear that sent me across the room. His Scotch is very broad. I can hear him say, "Hae some attempt at even Soothern manners, and dinna misca' yer betters, ye young puddock, or I'll wring yer snoot!" Father was, I could see, very much offended, but he didn't say anything. He remembered, I think, that the General is a V.C. man, and was fond of fighting duels. But to show that the fault was not his, _he_ wrung _my_ ear--and the same ear too! I suppose he thought that was justice! But it's only right to say that he made up for it afterwards. When the General had gone he gave me a five-pound note. I don't think Uncle Roger was very pleased with the way Rupert behaved about the legacy, for I don't think he ever saw him from that day to this. Perhaps, of course, it was because Rupert ran away shortly afterwards; but I shall tell about that when I come to him. After all, why should my uncle bother about him? He is not a Melton at all, and I am to be Head of the House--of course, when the Lord thinks right to take father to Himself! Uncle Roger has tons of money, and he never married, so if he wants to leave it in the right direction he needn't have any trouble. He made his money in what he calls "the Eastern Trade." This, so far as I can gather, takes in the Levant and all east of it. I know he has what they call in trade "houses" in all sorts of places--Turkey, and Greece, and all round them, Morocco, Egypt, and Southern Russia, and the Holy Land; then on to Persia, India, and all round it; the Chersonese, China, Japan, and the Pacific Islands. It is not to be expected that we landowners can know much about trade, but my uncle covers--or alas! I must say "covered"--a lot of ground, I can tell you. Uncle Roger was a very grim sort of man, and only that I was brought up to try and be kind to him I shouldn't ever have dared to speak to him. But when was a child father and mother--especially mother--forced me to go and see him and be affectionate to him. He wasn't ever even civil to me, that I can remember--grumpy old bear! But, then, he never saw Rupert at all, so that I take it Master R--- is out of the running altogether for testamentary honours. The last time I saw him myself he was distinctly rude. He treated me as a boy, though I was getting on for eighteen years of age. I came into his office without knocking; and without looking up from his desk, where he was writing, he said: "Get out! Why do you venture to disturb me when I'm busy? Get out, and be damned to you!" I waited where I was, ready to transfix him with my eye when he should look up, for I cannot forget that when my father dies I shall be Head of my House. But when he did there was no transfixing possible. He said quite coolly: "Oh, it's you, is it? I thought it was one of my office boys. Sit down, if you want to see me, and wait till I am ready." So I sat down and waited. Father always said that I should try to conciliate and please my uncle. Father is a very shrewd man, and Uncle Roger is a very rich one. But I don't think Uncle R--- is as shrewd as he thinks he is. He sometimes makes awful mistakes in business. For instance, some years ago he bought an enormous estate on the Adriatic, in the country they call the "Land of Blue Mountains." At least, he says he bought it. He told father so in confidence. But he didn't show any title-deeds, and I'm greatly afraid he was "had." A bad job for me that he was, for father believes he paid an enormous sum for it, and as I am his natural heir, it reduces his available estate to so much less. And now about Rupert. As I have said, he ran away when he was about fourteen, and we did not hear about him for years. When we--or, rather, my father--did hear of him, it was no good that he heard. He had gone as a cabin-boy on a sailing ship round the Horn. Then he joined an exploring party through the centre of Patagonia, and then another up in Alaska, and a third to the Aleutian Islands. After that he went through Central America, and then to Western Africa, the Pacific Islands, India, and a lot of places. We all know the wisdom of the adage that "A rolling stone gathers no moss"; and certainly, if there be any value in moss, Cousin Rupert will die a poor man. Indeed, nothing will stand his idiotic, boastful wastefulness. Look at the way in which, when he came of age, he made over all his mother's little fortune to the MacSkelpie! I am sure that, though Uncle Roger made no comment to my father, who, as Head of our House, should, of course, have been informed, he was not pleased. My mother, who has a good fortune in her own right, and has had the sense to keep it in her own control--as I am to inherit it, and it is not in the entail, I am therefore quite impartial--I can approve of her spirited conduct in the matter. We never did think much of Rupert, anyhow; but now, since he is in the way to be a pauper, and therefore a dangerous nuisance, we look on him as quite an outsider. We know what he really is. For my own part, I loathe and despise him. Just now we are irritated with him, for we are all kept on tenterhooks regarding my dear Uncle Roger's Will. For Mr. Trent, the attorney who regulated my dear uncle's affairs and has possession of the Will, says it is necessary to know where every possible beneficiary is to be found before making the Will public, so we all have to wait. It is especially hard on me, who am the natural heir. It is very thoughtless indeed of Rupert to keep away like that. I wrote to old MacSkelpie about it, but he didn't seem to understand or to be at all anxious--he is not the heir! He said that probably Rupert Sent Leger--he, too, keeps to the old spelling--did not know of his uncle's death, or he would have taken steps to relieve our anxiety. Our anxiety, forsooth! We are not anxious; we only wish to _know_. And if we--and especially me--who have all the annoyance of thinking of the detestable and unfair death-duties, are anxious, we should be so. Well, anyhow, he'll get a properly bitter disappointment and set down when he does turn up and discovers that he is a pauper without hope! * * * * * To-day we (father and I) had letters from Mr. Trent, telling us that the whereabouts of "Mr. Rupert Sent Leger" had been discovered, and that a letter disclosing the fact of poor Uncle Roger's death had been sent to him. He was at Titicaca when last heard of. So goodness only knows when he may get the letter, which "asks him to come home at once, but only gives to him such information about the Will as has already been given to every member of the testator's family." And that is nil. I dare say we shall be kept waiting for months before we get hold of the estate which is ours. It is too bad! _Letter from Edward Bingham Trent to Ernest Roger Halbard Melton_. 176, LINCOLN'S INN FIELDS, _December_ 28, 1906. DEAR SIR, I am glad to be able to inform you that I have just heard by letter from Mr. Rupert St. Leger that he intended leaving Rio de Janeiro by the S.S. _Amazon_, of the Royal Mail Company, on December 15. He further stated that he would cable just before leaving Rio de Janeiro, to say on what day the ship was expected to arrive in London. As all the others possibly interested in the Will of the late Roger Melton, and whose names are given to me in his instructions regarding the reading of the Will, have been advised, and have expressed their intention of being present at that event on being apprised of the time and place, I now beg to inform you that by cable message received the date scheduled for arrival at the Port of London was January 1 prox. I therefore beg to notify you, subject to postponement due to the non-arrival of the _Amazon_, the reading of the Will of the late Roger Melton, Esq., will take place in my office on Thursday, January 3 prox., at eleven o'clock a.m. I have the honour to be, sir, Yours faithfully, EDWARD BINGHAM TRENT. TO ERNEST ROGER HALBARD MELTON, ESQ., HUMCROFT, SALOP. Cable: _Rupert Sent Leger to Edward Bingham Trent_. _Amazon_ arrives London January 1. SENT LEGER. _Telegram_ (_per Lloyd's_): _Rupert Sent Leger to Edward Bingham Trent_. THE LIZARD, _December_ 31. _Amazon_ arrives London to-morrow morning. All well.--LEGER. _Telegram_: _Edward Bingham Trent to Ernest Roger Halbard Mellon_. Rupert Sent Leger arrived. Reading Will takes place as arranged.--TRENT. ERNEST ROGER HALBARD MELTON'S RECORD. _January_ 4, 1907. The reading of Uncle Roger's Will is over. Father got a duplicate of Mr. Trent's letter to me, and of the cable and two telegrams pasted into this Record. We both waited patiently till the third--that is, we did not say anything. The only impatient member of our family was my mother. She _did_ say things, and if old Trent had been here his ears would have been red. She said what ridiculous nonsense it was delaying the reading of the Will, and keeping the Heir waiting for the arrival of an obscure person who wasn't even a member of the family, inasmuch as he didn't bear the name. I don't think it's quite respectful to one who is some day to be Head of the House! I thought father was weakening in his patience when he said: "True, my dear--true!" and got up and left the room. Some time afterwards when I passed the library I heard him walking up and down. Father and I went up to town on the afternoon of Wednesday, January 2. We stayed, of course, at Claridge's, where we always stay when we go to town. Mother wanted to come, too, but father thought it better not. She would not agree to stay at home till we both promised to send her separate telegrams after the reading. At five minutes to eleven we entered Mr. Trent's office. Father would not go a moment earlier, as he said it was bad form to seem eager at any time, but most of all at the reading of a will. It was a rotten grind, for we had to be walking all over the neighbourhood for half an hour before it was time, not to be too early. When we went into the room we found there General Sir Colin MacKelpie and a big man, very bronzed, whom I took to be Rupert St. Leger--not a very creditable connection to look at, I thought! He and old MacKelpie took care to be in time! Rather low, I thought it. Mr. St. Leger was reading a letter. He had evidently come in but lately, for though he seemed to be eager about it, he was only at the first page, and I could see that there were many sheets. He did not look up when we came in, or till he had finished the letter; and you may be sure that neither I nor my father (who, as Head of the House, should have had more respect from him) took the trouble to go to him. After all, he is a pauper and a wastrel, and he has not the honour of bearing our Name. The General, however, came forward and greeted us both cordially. He evidently had forgotten--or pretended to have--the discourteous way he once treated me, for he spoke to me quite in a friendly way--I thought more warmly than he did to father. I was pleased to be spoken to so nicely, for, after all, whatever his manners may be, he is a distinguished man--has won the V.C. and a Baronetcy. He got the latter not long ago, after the Frontier War in India. I was not, however, led away into cordiality myself. I had not forgotten his rudeness, and I thought that he might be sucking up to me. I knew that when I had my dear Uncle Roger's many millions I should be a rather important person; and, of course, he knew it too. So I got even with him for his former impudence. When he held out his hand I put one finger in it, and said, "How do?" He got very red and turned away. Father and he had ended by glaring at each other, so neither of us was sorry to be done with him. All the time Mr. St. Leger did not seem to see or hear anything, but went on reading his letter. I thought the old MacSkelpie was going to bring him into the matter between us, for as he turned away I heard him say something under his breath. It sounded like "Help!" but Mr. S--- did not hear. He certainly no notice of it. As the MacS--- and Mr. S--- sat quite silent, neither looking at us, and as father was sitting on the other side of the room with his chin in his hand, and as I wanted to show that I was indifferent to the two S's, I took out this notebook, and went on with the Record, bringing it up to this moment. THE RECORD--_Continued_. When I had finished writing I looked over at Rupert. When he saw us, he jumped up and went over to father and shook his hand quite warmly. Father took him very coolly. Rupert, however, did not seem to see it, but came towards me heartily. I happened to be doing something else at the moment, and at first I did not see his hand; but just as I was looking at it the clock struck eleven. Whilst it was striking Mr. Trent came into the room. Close behind him came his clerk, carrying a locked tin box. There were two other men also. He bowed to us all in turn, beginning with me. I was standing opposite the door; the others were scattered about. Father sat still, but Sir Colin and Mr. St. Leger rose. Mr. Trent not did shake hands with any of us--not even me. Nothing but his respectful bow. That is the etiquette for an attorney, I understand, on such formal occasions. He sat down at the end of the big table in the centre of the room, and asked us to sit round. Father, of course, as Head of the Family, took the seat at his right hand. Sir Colin and St. Leger went to the other side, the former taking the seat next to the attorney. The General knows, of course, that a Baronet takes precedence at a ceremony. I may be a Baronet some day myself, and have to know these things. The clerk took the key which his master handed to him, opened the tin box, and took from it a bundle of papers tied with red tape. This he placed before the attorney, and put the empty box behind him on the floor. Then he and the other man sat at the far end of the table; the latter took out a big notebook and several pencils, and put them before him. He was evidently a shorthand-writer. Mr. Trent removed the tape from the bundle of papers, which he placed a little distance in front of him. He took a sealed envelope from the top, broke the seal, opened the envelope, and from it took a parchment, in the folds of which were some sealed envelopes, which he laid in a heap in front of the other paper. Then he unfolded the parchment, and laid it before him with the outside page up. He fixed his glasses, and said: "Gentlemen, the sealed envelope which you have seen me open is endorsed 'My Last Will and Testament--ROGER MELTON, _June_, 1906.' This document"--holding it up--"is as follows: "'I Roger Melton of Openshaw Grange in the County of Dorset; of number one hundred and twenty-three Berkeley Square London; and of the Castle of Vissarion in the Land of the Blue Mountains, being of sound mind do make this my Last Will and Testament on this day Monday the eleventh day of the month of June in the year of Our Lord one thousand nine hundred and six at the office of my old friend and Attorney Edward Bingham Trent in number one hundred and seventy-six Lincoln's Inn Fields London hereby revoking all other wills that I may have formerly made and giving this as my sole and last Will making dispositions of my property as follows: "'1. To my kinsman and nephew Ernest Halbard Melton Esquire, justice of the Peace, Humcroft the County of Salop, for his sole use and benefit the sum of twenty thousand pounds sterling free of all Duties Taxes and charges whatever to be paid out of my Five per centum Bonds of the City of Montreal, Canada. "'2. To my respected friend and colleague as co-trustee to the Will of my late sister Patience late widow of the late Captain Rupert Sent Leger who predeceased her, Major-General Sir Colin Alexander MacKelpie, Baronet, holder of the Victoria Cross, Knight Commander of the Order of the Bath, of Croom in the county of Ross Scotland a sum of Twenty thousand pounds sterling free of all Taxes and charges whatsoever; to be paid out of my Five per centum Bonds of the City of Toronto, Canada. "'3. To Miss Janet MacKelpie presently residing at Croom in the County of Ross Scotland the sum of Twenty thousand pounds sterling free of all Duties Taxes and Charges whatsoever, to be paid out of my Five per centum Bonds of the London County Council. "'4. To the various persons charities and Trustees named in the schedule attached to this Will and marked A. the various sums mentioned therein, all free of Duties and Taxes and charges whatsoever.'" Here Mr. Trent read out the list here following, and announced for our immediate understanding of the situation the total amount as two hundred and fifty thousand pounds. Many of the beneficiaries were old friends, comrades, dependents, and servants, some of them being left

hours

How many times the word 'hours' appears in the text?

you; and if the sword of an old soldier--it is all I have--can ever serve you in any way, it and its master's life are, and shall be, whilst life remains to him, yours. It grieves me to think that Janet cannot, through my act, be given that ease and tranquillity of spirit which come from competence. But, my dear Rupert, you will be of full age in seven years more. Then, if you are in the same mind--and I am sure you will not change--you, being your own master, can do freely as you will. In the meantime, to secure, so far as I can, my dear Janet against any malign stroke of fortune, I have given orders to my factor to remit semi-annually to Janet one full half of such income as may be derived in any form from my estate of Croom. It is, I am sorry to say, heavily mortgaged; but of such as is--or may be, free from such charge as the mortgage entails--something at least will, I trust, remain to her. And, my dear boy, I can frankly say that it is to me a real pleasure that you and I can be linked in one more bond in this association of purpose. I have always held you in my heart as though you were my own son. Let me tell you now that you have acted as I should have liked a son of my own, had I been blessed with one, to have acted. God bless you, my dear. Yours ever, COLIN ALEX. MACKELPIE. _Letter from Roger Melton_, _of Openshaw Grange_, _to Rupert Sent Leger_, _Esq._, 14, _Newland Park_, _Dulwich_, _London_, _S.E._ _July_ 1, 1892. MY DEAR NEPHEW, Your letter of the 30th ult. received. Have carefully considered matter stated, and have come to the conclusion that my duty as a trustee would not allow me to give full consent, as you wish. Let me explain. The testator, in making her will, intended that such fortune as she had at disposal should be used to supply to you her son such benefits as its annual product should procure. To this end, and to provide against wastefulness or foolishness on your part, or, indeed, against any generosity, howsoever worthy, which might impoverish you and so defeat her benevolent intentions regarding your education, comfort, and future good, she did not place the estate directly in your hands, leaving you to do as you might feel inclined about it. But, on the contrary, she entrusted the corpus of it in the hands of men whom she believed should be resolute enough and strong enough to carry out her intent, even against any cajolements or pressure which might be employed to the contrary. It being her intention, then, that such trustees as she appointed would use for your benefit the interest accruing annually from the capital at command, _and that only_ (as specifically directed in the will), so that on your arriving at full age the capital entrusted to us should be handed over to you intact, I find a hard-and-fast duty in the matter of adhering exactly to the directions given. I have no doubt that my co-trustees regard the matter in exactly the same light. Under the circumstances, therefore, we, the trustees, have not only a single and united duty towards you as the object of the testator's wishes, but towards each other as regards the manner of the carrying out of that duty. I take it, therefore, that it would not be consonant with the spirit of the trust or of our own ideas in accepting it that any of us should take a course pleasant to himself which would or might involve a stern opposition on the part of other of the co-trustees. We have each of us to do the unpleasant part of this duty without fear or favour. You understand, of course, that the time which must elapse before you come into absolute possession of your estate is a limited one. As by the terms of the will we are to hand over our trust when you have reached the age of twenty-one, there are only seven years to expire. But till then, though I should gladly meet your wishes if I could, I must adhere to the duty which I have undertaken. At the expiration of that period you will be quite free to divest yourself of your estate without protest or comment of any man. Having now expressed as clearly as I can the limitations by which I am bound with regard to the corpus of your estate, let me say that in any other way which is in my power or discretion I shall be most happy to see your wishes carried out so far as rests with me. Indeed, I shall undertake to use what influence I may possess with my co-trustees to induce them to take a similar view of your wishes. In my own thinking you are quite free to use your own property in your own way. But as, until you shall have attained your majority, you have only life-user in your mother's bequest, you are only at liberty to deal with the annual increment. On our part as trustees we have a first charge on that increment to be used for purposes of your maintenance, clothes, and education. As to what may remain over each half-year, you will be free to deal with it as you choose. On receiving from you a written authorization to your trustees, if you desire the whole sum or any part of it to be paid over to Miss Janet MacKelpie, I shall see that it is effected. Believe me, that our duty is to protect the corpus of the estate, and to this end we may not act on any instruction to imperil it. But there our warranty stops. We can deal during our trusteeship with the corpus only. Further, lest there should arise any error on your part, we can deal with any general instruction for only so long as it may remain unrevoked. You are, and must be, free to alter your instructions or authorizations at any time. Thus your latest document must be used for our guidance. As to the general principle involved in your wish I make no comment. You are at liberty to deal with your own how you will. I quite understand that your impulse is a generous one, and I fully believe that it is in consonance with what had always been the wishes of my sister. Had she been happily alive and had to give judgment of your intent, I am convinced that she would have approved. Therefore, my dear nephew, should you so wish, I shall be happy for her sake as well as your own to pay over on your account (as a confidential matter between you and me), but from my own pocket, a sum equal to that which you wish transferred to Miss Janet MacKelpie. On hearing from you I shall know how to act in the matter. With all good wishes, Believe me to be, Your affectionate uncle, ROGER MELTON. TO RUPERT SENT LEGER, ESQ. _Letter from Rupert Sent Leger to Roger Melton_, _July_ 5, 1892. MY DEAR UNCLE, Thank you heartily for your kind letter. I quite understand, and now see that I should not have asked you as a trustee, such a thing. I see your duty clearly, and agree with your view of it. I enclose a letter directed to my trustees, asking them to pay over annually till further direction to Miss Janet MacKelpie at this address whatever sum may remain over from the interest of my mother's bequest after deduction of such expenses as you may deem fit for my maintenance, clothing, and education, together with a sum of one pound sterling per month, which was the amount my dear mother always gave me for my personal use--"pocket-money," she called it. With regard to your most kind and generous offer to give to my dear Aunt Janet the sum which I would have given myself, had such been in my power, I thank you most truly and sincerely, both for my dear aunt (to whom, of course, I shall not mention the matter unless you specially authorize me) and myself. But, indeed, I think it will be better not to offer it. Aunt Janet is very proud, and would not accept any benefit. With me, of course, it is different, for since I was a wee child she has been like another mother to me, and I love her very much. Since my mother died--and she, of course, was all-in-all to me--there has been no other. And in such a love as ours pride has no place. Thank you again, dear uncle, and God bless you. Your loving nephew, RUPERT SENT LEGER. ERNEST ROGER HALBARD MELTON'S RECORD--_Continued_. And now _re_ the remaining one of Sir Geoffrey's children, Roger. He was the third child and third son, the only daughter, Patience, having been born twenty years after the last of the four sons. Concerning Roger, I shall put down all I have heard of him from my father and grandfather. From my grand-aunt I heard nothing, I was a very small kid when she died; but I remember seeing her, but only once. A very tall, handsome woman of a little over thirty, with very dark hair and light-coloured eyes. I think they were either grey or blue, but I can't remember which. She looked very proud and haughty, but I am bound to say that she was very nice to me. I remember feeling very jealous of Rupert because his mother looked so distinguished. Rupert was eight years older than me, and I was afraid he would beat me if I said anything he did not like. So I was silent except when I forgot to be, and Rupert said very unkindly, and I think very unfairly, that I was "A sulky little beast." I haven't forgot that, and I don't mean to. However, it doesn't matter much what he said or thought. There he is--if he is at all--where no one can find him, with no money or nothing, for what little he had he settled when he came of age, on the MacSkelpie. He wanted to give it to her when his mother died, but father, who was a trustee, refused; and Uncle Roger, as I call him, who is another, thought the trustees had no power to allow Rupert to throw away his matrimony, as I called it, making a joke to father when he called it patrimony. Old Sir Colin MacSkelpie, who is the third, said he couldn't take any part in such a permission, as the MacSkelpie was his niece. He is a rude old man, that. I remember when, not remembering his relationship, I spoke of the MacSkelpie, he caught me a clip on the ear that sent me across the room. His Scotch is very broad. I can hear him say, "Hae some attempt at even Soothern manners, and dinna misca' yer betters, ye young puddock, or I'll wring yer snoot!" Father was, I could see, very much offended, but he didn't say anything. He remembered, I think, that the General is a V.C. man, and was fond of fighting duels. But to show that the fault was not his, _he_ wrung _my_ ear--and the same ear too! I suppose he thought that was justice! But it's only right to say that he made up for it afterwards. When the General had gone he gave me a five-pound note. I don't think Uncle Roger was very pleased with the way Rupert behaved about the legacy, for I don't think he ever saw him from that day to this. Perhaps, of course, it was because Rupert ran away shortly afterwards; but I shall tell about that when I come to him. After all, why should my uncle bother about him? He is not a Melton at all, and I am to be Head of the House--of course, when the Lord thinks right to take father to Himself! Uncle Roger has tons of money, and he never married, so if he wants to leave it in the right direction he needn't have any trouble. He made his money in what he calls "the Eastern Trade." This, so far as I can gather, takes in the Levant and all east of it. I know he has what they call in trade "houses" in all sorts of places--Turkey, and Greece, and all round them, Morocco, Egypt, and Southern Russia, and the Holy Land; then on to Persia, India, and all round it; the Chersonese, China, Japan, and the Pacific Islands. It is not to be expected that we landowners can know much about trade, but my uncle covers--or alas! I must say "covered"--a lot of ground, I can tell you. Uncle Roger was a very grim sort of man, and only that I was brought up to try and be kind to him I shouldn't ever have dared to speak to him. But when was a child father and mother--especially mother--forced me to go and see him and be affectionate to him. He wasn't ever even civil to me, that I can remember--grumpy old bear! But, then, he never saw Rupert at all, so that I take it Master R--- is out of the running altogether for testamentary honours. The last time I saw him myself he was distinctly rude. He treated me as a boy, though I was getting on for eighteen years of age. I came into his office without knocking; and without looking up from his desk, where he was writing, he said: "Get out! Why do you venture to disturb me when I'm busy? Get out, and be damned to you!" I waited where I was, ready to transfix him with my eye when he should look up, for I cannot forget that when my father dies I shall be Head of my House. But when he did there was no transfixing possible. He said quite coolly: "Oh, it's you, is it? I thought it was one of my office boys. Sit down, if you want to see me, and wait till I am ready." So I sat down and waited. Father always said that I should try to conciliate and please my uncle. Father is a very shrewd man, and Uncle Roger is a very rich one. But I don't think Uncle R--- is as shrewd as he thinks he is. He sometimes makes awful mistakes in business. For instance, some years ago he bought an enormous estate on the Adriatic, in the country they call the "Land of Blue Mountains." At least, he says he bought it. He told father so in confidence. But he didn't show any title-deeds, and I'm greatly afraid he was "had." A bad job for me that he was, for father believes he paid an enormous sum for it, and as I am his natural heir, it reduces his available estate to so much less. And now about Rupert. As I have said, he ran away when he was about fourteen, and we did not hear about him for years. When we--or, rather, my father--did hear of him, it was no good that he heard. He had gone as a cabin-boy on a sailing ship round the Horn. Then he joined an exploring party through the centre of Patagonia, and then another up in Alaska, and a third to the Aleutian Islands. After that he went through Central America, and then to Western Africa, the Pacific Islands, India, and a lot of places. We all know the wisdom of the adage that "A rolling stone gathers no moss"; and certainly, if there be any value in moss, Cousin Rupert will die a poor man. Indeed, nothing will stand his idiotic, boastful wastefulness. Look at the way in which, when he came of age, he made over all his mother's little fortune to the MacSkelpie! I am sure that, though Uncle Roger made no comment to my father, who, as Head of our House, should, of course, have been informed, he was not pleased. My mother, who has a good fortune in her own right, and has had the sense to keep it in her own control--as I am to inherit it, and it is not in the entail, I am therefore quite impartial--I can approve of her spirited conduct in the matter. We never did think much of Rupert, anyhow; but now, since he is in the way to be a pauper, and therefore a dangerous nuisance, we look on him as quite an outsider. We know what he really is. For my own part, I loathe and despise him. Just now we are irritated with him, for we are all kept on tenterhooks regarding my dear Uncle Roger's Will. For Mr. Trent, the attorney who regulated my dear uncle's affairs and has possession of the Will, says it is necessary to know where every possible beneficiary is to be found before making the Will public, so we all have to wait. It is especially hard on me, who am the natural heir. It is very thoughtless indeed of Rupert to keep away like that. I wrote to old MacSkelpie about it, but he didn't seem to understand or to be at all anxious--he is not the heir! He said that probably Rupert Sent Leger--he, too, keeps to the old spelling--did not know of his uncle's death, or he would have taken steps to relieve our anxiety. Our anxiety, forsooth! We are not anxious; we only wish to _know_. And if we--and especially me--who have all the annoyance of thinking of the detestable and unfair death-duties, are anxious, we should be so. Well, anyhow, he'll get a properly bitter disappointment and set down when he does turn up and discovers that he is a pauper without hope! * * * * * To-day we (father and I) had letters from Mr. Trent, telling us that the whereabouts of "Mr. Rupert Sent Leger" had been discovered, and that a letter disclosing the fact of poor Uncle Roger's death had been sent to him. He was at Titicaca when last heard of. So goodness only knows when he may get the letter, which "asks him to come home at once, but only gives to him such information about the Will as has already been given to every member of the testator's family." And that is nil. I dare say we shall be kept waiting for months before we get hold of the estate which is ours. It is too bad! _Letter from Edward Bingham Trent to Ernest Roger Halbard Melton_. 176, LINCOLN'S INN FIELDS, _December_ 28, 1906. DEAR SIR, I am glad to be able to inform you that I have just heard by letter from Mr. Rupert St. Leger that he intended leaving Rio de Janeiro by the S.S. _Amazon_, of the Royal Mail Company, on December 15. He further stated that he would cable just before leaving Rio de Janeiro, to say on what day the ship was expected to arrive in London. As all the others possibly interested in the Will of the late Roger Melton, and whose names are given to me in his instructions regarding the reading of the Will, have been advised, and have expressed their intention of being present at that event on being apprised of the time and place, I now beg to inform you that by cable message received the date scheduled for arrival at the Port of London was January 1 prox. I therefore beg to notify you, subject to postponement due to the non-arrival of the _Amazon_, the reading of the Will of the late Roger Melton, Esq., will take place in my office on Thursday, January 3 prox., at eleven o'clock a.m. I have the honour to be, sir, Yours faithfully, EDWARD BINGHAM TRENT. TO ERNEST ROGER HALBARD MELTON, ESQ., HUMCROFT, SALOP. Cable: _Rupert Sent Leger to Edward Bingham Trent_. _Amazon_ arrives London January 1. SENT LEGER. _Telegram_ (_per Lloyd's_): _Rupert Sent Leger to Edward Bingham Trent_. THE LIZARD, _December_ 31. _Amazon_ arrives London to-morrow morning. All well.--LEGER. _Telegram_: _Edward Bingham Trent to Ernest Roger Halbard Mellon_. Rupert Sent Leger arrived. Reading Will takes place as arranged.--TRENT. ERNEST ROGER HALBARD MELTON'S RECORD. _January_ 4, 1907. The reading of Uncle Roger's Will is over. Father got a duplicate of Mr. Trent's letter to me, and of the cable and two telegrams pasted into this Record. We both waited patiently till the third--that is, we did not say anything. The only impatient member of our family was my mother. She _did_ say things, and if old Trent had been here his ears would have been red. She said what ridiculous nonsense it was delaying the reading of the Will, and keeping the Heir waiting for the arrival of an obscure person who wasn't even a member of the family, inasmuch as he didn't bear the name. I don't think it's quite respectful to one who is some day to be Head of the House! I thought father was weakening in his patience when he said: "True, my dear--true!" and got up and left the room. Some time afterwards when I passed the library I heard him walking up and down. Father and I went up to town on the afternoon of Wednesday, January 2. We stayed, of course, at Claridge's, where we always stay when we go to town. Mother wanted to come, too, but father thought it better not. She would not agree to stay at home till we both promised to send her separate telegrams after the reading. At five minutes to eleven we entered Mr. Trent's office. Father would not go a moment earlier, as he said it was bad form to seem eager at any time, but most of all at the reading of a will. It was a rotten grind, for we had to be walking all over the neighbourhood for half an hour before it was time, not to be too early. When we went into the room we found there General Sir Colin MacKelpie and a big man, very bronzed, whom I took to be Rupert St. Leger--not a very creditable connection to look at, I thought! He and old MacKelpie took care to be in time! Rather low, I thought it. Mr. St. Leger was reading a letter. He had evidently come in but lately, for though he seemed to be eager about it, he was only at the first page, and I could see that there were many sheets. He did not look up when we came in, or till he had finished the letter; and you may be sure that neither I nor my father (who, as Head of the House, should have had more respect from him) took the trouble to go to him. After all, he is a pauper and a wastrel, and he has not the honour of bearing our Name. The General, however, came forward and greeted us both cordially. He evidently had forgotten--or pretended to have--the discourteous way he once treated me, for he spoke to me quite in a friendly way--I thought more warmly than he did to father. I was pleased to be spoken to so nicely, for, after all, whatever his manners may be, he is a distinguished man--has won the V.C. and a Baronetcy. He got the latter not long ago, after the Frontier War in India. I was not, however, led away into cordiality myself. I had not forgotten his rudeness, and I thought that he might be sucking up to me. I knew that when I had my dear Uncle Roger's many millions I should be a rather important person; and, of course, he knew it too. So I got even with him for his former impudence. When he held out his hand I put one finger in it, and said, "How do?" He got very red and turned away. Father and he had ended by glaring at each other, so neither of us was sorry to be done with him. All the time Mr. St. Leger did not seem to see or hear anything, but went on reading his letter. I thought the old MacSkelpie was going to bring him into the matter between us, for as he turned away I heard him say something under his breath. It sounded like "Help!" but Mr. S--- did not hear. He certainly no notice of it. As the MacS--- and Mr. S--- sat quite silent, neither looking at us, and as father was sitting on the other side of the room with his chin in his hand, and as I wanted to show that I was indifferent to the two S's, I took out this notebook, and went on with the Record, bringing it up to this moment. THE RECORD--_Continued_. When I had finished writing I looked over at Rupert. When he saw us, he jumped up and went over to father and shook his hand quite warmly. Father took him very coolly. Rupert, however, did not seem to see it, but came towards me heartily. I happened to be doing something else at the moment, and at first I did not see his hand; but just as I was looking at it the clock struck eleven. Whilst it was striking Mr. Trent came into the room. Close behind him came his clerk, carrying a locked tin box. There were two other men also. He bowed to us all in turn, beginning with me. I was standing opposite the door; the others were scattered about. Father sat still, but Sir Colin and Mr. St. Leger rose. Mr. Trent not did shake hands with any of us--not even me. Nothing but his respectful bow. That is the etiquette for an attorney, I understand, on such formal occasions. He sat down at the end of the big table in the centre of the room, and asked us to sit round. Father, of course, as Head of the Family, took the seat at his right hand. Sir Colin and St. Leger went to the other side, the former taking the seat next to the attorney. The General knows, of course, that a Baronet takes precedence at a ceremony. I may be a Baronet some day myself, and have to know these things. The clerk took the key which his master handed to him, opened the tin box, and took from it a bundle of papers tied with red tape. This he placed before the attorney, and put the empty box behind him on the floor. Then he and the other man sat at the far end of the table; the latter took out a big notebook and several pencils, and put them before him. He was evidently a shorthand-writer. Mr. Trent removed the tape from the bundle of papers, which he placed a little distance in front of him. He took a sealed envelope from the top, broke the seal, opened the envelope, and from it took a parchment, in the folds of which were some sealed envelopes, which he laid in a heap in front of the other paper. Then he unfolded the parchment, and laid it before him with the outside page up. He fixed his glasses, and said: "Gentlemen, the sealed envelope which you have seen me open is endorsed 'My Last Will and Testament--ROGER MELTON, _June_, 1906.' This document"--holding it up--"is as follows: "'I Roger Melton of Openshaw Grange in the County of Dorset; of number one hundred and twenty-three Berkeley Square London; and of the Castle of Vissarion in the Land of the Blue Mountains, being of sound mind do make this my Last Will and Testament on this day Monday the eleventh day of the month of June in the year of Our Lord one thousand nine hundred and six at the office of my old friend and Attorney Edward Bingham Trent in number one hundred and seventy-six Lincoln's Inn Fields London hereby revoking all other wills that I may have formerly made and giving this as my sole and last Will making dispositions of my property as follows: "'1. To my kinsman and nephew Ernest Halbard Melton Esquire, justice of the Peace, Humcroft the County of Salop, for his sole use and benefit the sum of twenty thousand pounds sterling free of all Duties Taxes and charges whatever to be paid out of my Five per centum Bonds of the City of Montreal, Canada. "'2. To my respected friend and colleague as co-trustee to the Will of my late sister Patience late widow of the late Captain Rupert Sent Leger who predeceased her, Major-General Sir Colin Alexander MacKelpie, Baronet, holder of the Victoria Cross, Knight Commander of the Order of the Bath, of Croom in the county of Ross Scotland a sum of Twenty thousand pounds sterling free of all Taxes and charges whatsoever; to be paid out of my Five per centum Bonds of the City of Toronto, Canada. "'3. To Miss Janet MacKelpie presently residing at Croom in the County of Ross Scotland the sum of Twenty thousand pounds sterling free of all Duties Taxes and Charges whatsoever, to be paid out of my Five per centum Bonds of the London County Council. "'4. To the various persons charities and Trustees named in the schedule attached to this Will and marked A. the various sums mentioned therein, all free of Duties and Taxes and charges whatsoever.'" Here Mr. Trent read out the list here following, and announced for our immediate understanding of the situation the total amount as two hundred and fifty thousand pounds. Many of the beneficiaries were old friends, comrades, dependents, and servants, some of them being left

may

How many times the word 'may' appears in the text?

you; and if the sword of an old soldier--it is all I have--can ever serve you in any way, it and its master's life are, and shall be, whilst life remains to him, yours. It grieves me to think that Janet cannot, through my act, be given that ease and tranquillity of spirit which come from competence. But, my dear Rupert, you will be of full age in seven years more. Then, if you are in the same mind--and I am sure you will not change--you, being your own master, can do freely as you will. In the meantime, to secure, so far as I can, my dear Janet against any malign stroke of fortune, I have given orders to my factor to remit semi-annually to Janet one full half of such income as may be derived in any form from my estate of Croom. It is, I am sorry to say, heavily mortgaged; but of such as is--or may be, free from such charge as the mortgage entails--something at least will, I trust, remain to her. And, my dear boy, I can frankly say that it is to me a real pleasure that you and I can be linked in one more bond in this association of purpose. I have always held you in my heart as though you were my own son. Let me tell you now that you have acted as I should have liked a son of my own, had I been blessed with one, to have acted. God bless you, my dear. Yours ever, COLIN ALEX. MACKELPIE. _Letter from Roger Melton_, _of Openshaw Grange_, _to Rupert Sent Leger_, _Esq._, 14, _Newland Park_, _Dulwich_, _London_, _S.E._ _July_ 1, 1892. MY DEAR NEPHEW, Your letter of the 30th ult. received. Have carefully considered matter stated, and have come to the conclusion that my duty as a trustee would not allow me to give full consent, as you wish. Let me explain. The testator, in making her will, intended that such fortune as she had at disposal should be used to supply to you her son such benefits as its annual product should procure. To this end, and to provide against wastefulness or foolishness on your part, or, indeed, against any generosity, howsoever worthy, which might impoverish you and so defeat her benevolent intentions regarding your education, comfort, and future good, she did not place the estate directly in your hands, leaving you to do as you might feel inclined about it. But, on the contrary, she entrusted the corpus of it in the hands of men whom she believed should be resolute enough and strong enough to carry out her intent, even against any cajolements or pressure which might be employed to the contrary. It being her intention, then, that such trustees as she appointed would use for your benefit the interest accruing annually from the capital at command, _and that only_ (as specifically directed in the will), so that on your arriving at full age the capital entrusted to us should be handed over to you intact, I find a hard-and-fast duty in the matter of adhering exactly to the directions given. I have no doubt that my co-trustees regard the matter in exactly the same light. Under the circumstances, therefore, we, the trustees, have not only a single and united duty towards you as the object of the testator's wishes, but towards each other as regards the manner of the carrying out of that duty. I take it, therefore, that it would not be consonant with the spirit of the trust or of our own ideas in accepting it that any of us should take a course pleasant to himself which would or might involve a stern opposition on the part of other of the co-trustees. We have each of us to do the unpleasant part of this duty without fear or favour. You understand, of course, that the time which must elapse before you come into absolute possession of your estate is a limited one. As by the terms of the will we are to hand over our trust when you have reached the age of twenty-one, there are only seven years to expire. But till then, though I should gladly meet your wishes if I could, I must adhere to the duty which I have undertaken. At the expiration of that period you will be quite free to divest yourself of your estate without protest or comment of any man. Having now expressed as clearly as I can the limitations by which I am bound with regard to the corpus of your estate, let me say that in any other way which is in my power or discretion I shall be most happy to see your wishes carried out so far as rests with me. Indeed, I shall undertake to use what influence I may possess with my co-trustees to induce them to take a similar view of your wishes. In my own thinking you are quite free to use your own property in your own way. But as, until you shall have attained your majority, you have only life-user in your mother's bequest, you are only at liberty to deal with the annual increment. On our part as trustees we have a first charge on that increment to be used for purposes of your maintenance, clothes, and education. As to what may remain over each half-year, you will be free to deal with it as you choose. On receiving from you a written authorization to your trustees, if you desire the whole sum or any part of it to be paid over to Miss Janet MacKelpie, I shall see that it is effected. Believe me, that our duty is to protect the corpus of the estate, and to this end we may not act on any instruction to imperil it. But there our warranty stops. We can deal during our trusteeship with the corpus only. Further, lest there should arise any error on your part, we can deal with any general instruction for only so long as it may remain unrevoked. You are, and must be, free to alter your instructions or authorizations at any time. Thus your latest document must be used for our guidance. As to the general principle involved in your wish I make no comment. You are at liberty to deal with your own how you will. I quite understand that your impulse is a generous one, and I fully believe that it is in consonance with what had always been the wishes of my sister. Had she been happily alive and had to give judgment of your intent, I am convinced that she would have approved. Therefore, my dear nephew, should you so wish, I shall be happy for her sake as well as your own to pay over on your account (as a confidential matter between you and me), but from my own pocket, a sum equal to that which you wish transferred to Miss Janet MacKelpie. On hearing from you I shall know how to act in the matter. With all good wishes, Believe me to be, Your affectionate uncle, ROGER MELTON. TO RUPERT SENT LEGER, ESQ. _Letter from Rupert Sent Leger to Roger Melton_, _July_ 5, 1892. MY DEAR UNCLE, Thank you heartily for your kind letter. I quite understand, and now see that I should not have asked you as a trustee, such a thing. I see your duty clearly, and agree with your view of it. I enclose a letter directed to my trustees, asking them to pay over annually till further direction to Miss Janet MacKelpie at this address whatever sum may remain over from the interest of my mother's bequest after deduction of such expenses as you may deem fit for my maintenance, clothing, and education, together with a sum of one pound sterling per month, which was the amount my dear mother always gave me for my personal use--"pocket-money," she called it. With regard to your most kind and generous offer to give to my dear Aunt Janet the sum which I would have given myself, had such been in my power, I thank you most truly and sincerely, both for my dear aunt (to whom, of course, I shall not mention the matter unless you specially authorize me) and myself. But, indeed, I think it will be better not to offer it. Aunt Janet is very proud, and would not accept any benefit. With me, of course, it is different, for since I was a wee child she has been like another mother to me, and I love her very much. Since my mother died--and she, of course, was all-in-all to me--there has been no other. And in such a love as ours pride has no place. Thank you again, dear uncle, and God bless you. Your loving nephew, RUPERT SENT LEGER. ERNEST ROGER HALBARD MELTON'S RECORD--_Continued_. And now _re_ the remaining one of Sir Geoffrey's children, Roger. He was the third child and third son, the only daughter, Patience, having been born twenty years after the last of the four sons. Concerning Roger, I shall put down all I have heard of him from my father and grandfather. From my grand-aunt I heard nothing, I was a very small kid when she died; but I remember seeing her, but only once. A very tall, handsome woman of a little over thirty, with very dark hair and light-coloured eyes. I think they were either grey or blue, but I can't remember which. She looked very proud and haughty, but I am bound to say that she was very nice to me. I remember feeling very jealous of Rupert because his mother looked so distinguished. Rupert was eight years older than me, and I was afraid he would beat me if I said anything he did not like. So I was silent except when I forgot to be, and Rupert said very unkindly, and I think very unfairly, that I was "A sulky little beast." I haven't forgot that, and I don't mean to. However, it doesn't matter much what he said or thought. There he is--if he is at all--where no one can find him, with no money or nothing, for what little he had he settled when he came of age, on the MacSkelpie. He wanted to give it to her when his mother died, but father, who was a trustee, refused; and Uncle Roger, as I call him, who is another, thought the trustees had no power to allow Rupert to throw away his matrimony, as I called it, making a joke to father when he called it patrimony. Old Sir Colin MacSkelpie, who is the third, said he couldn't take any part in such a permission, as the MacSkelpie was his niece. He is a rude old man, that. I remember when, not remembering his relationship, I spoke of the MacSkelpie, he caught me a clip on the ear that sent me across the room. His Scotch is very broad. I can hear him say, "Hae some attempt at even Soothern manners, and dinna misca' yer betters, ye young puddock, or I'll wring yer snoot!" Father was, I could see, very much offended, but he didn't say anything. He remembered, I think, that the General is a V.C. man, and was fond of fighting duels. But to show that the fault was not his, _he_ wrung _my_ ear--and the same ear too! I suppose he thought that was justice! But it's only right to say that he made up for it afterwards. When the General had gone he gave me a five-pound note. I don't think Uncle Roger was very pleased with the way Rupert behaved about the legacy, for I don't think he ever saw him from that day to this. Perhaps, of course, it was because Rupert ran away shortly afterwards; but I shall tell about that when I come to him. After all, why should my uncle bother about him? He is not a Melton at all, and I am to be Head of the House--of course, when the Lord thinks right to take father to Himself! Uncle Roger has tons of money, and he never married, so if he wants to leave it in the right direction he needn't have any trouble. He made his money in what he calls "the Eastern Trade." This, so far as I can gather, takes in the Levant and all east of it. I know he has what they call in trade "houses" in all sorts of places--Turkey, and Greece, and all round them, Morocco, Egypt, and Southern Russia, and the Holy Land; then on to Persia, India, and all round it; the Chersonese, China, Japan, and the Pacific Islands. It is not to be expected that we landowners can know much about trade, but my uncle covers--or alas! I must say "covered"--a lot of ground, I can tell you. Uncle Roger was a very grim sort of man, and only that I was brought up to try and be kind to him I shouldn't ever have dared to speak to him. But when was a child father and mother--especially mother--forced me to go and see him and be affectionate to him. He wasn't ever even civil to me, that I can remember--grumpy old bear! But, then, he never saw Rupert at all, so that I take it Master R--- is out of the running altogether for testamentary honours. The last time I saw him myself he was distinctly rude. He treated me as a boy, though I was getting on for eighteen years of age. I came into his office without knocking; and without looking up from his desk, where he was writing, he said: "Get out! Why do you venture to disturb me when I'm busy? Get out, and be damned to you!" I waited where I was, ready to transfix him with my eye when he should look up, for I cannot forget that when my father dies I shall be Head of my House. But when he did there was no transfixing possible. He said quite coolly: "Oh, it's you, is it? I thought it was one of my office boys. Sit down, if you want to see me, and wait till I am ready." So I sat down and waited. Father always said that I should try to conciliate and please my uncle. Father is a very shrewd man, and Uncle Roger is a very rich one. But I don't think Uncle R--- is as shrewd as he thinks he is. He sometimes makes awful mistakes in business. For instance, some years ago he bought an enormous estate on the Adriatic, in the country they call the "Land of Blue Mountains." At least, he says he bought it. He told father so in confidence. But he didn't show any title-deeds, and I'm greatly afraid he was "had." A bad job for me that he was, for father believes he paid an enormous sum for it, and as I am his natural heir, it reduces his available estate to so much less. And now about Rupert. As I have said, he ran away when he was about fourteen, and we did not hear about him for years. When we--or, rather, my father--did hear of him, it was no good that he heard. He had gone as a cabin-boy on a sailing ship round the Horn. Then he joined an exploring party through the centre of Patagonia, and then another up in Alaska, and a third to the Aleutian Islands. After that he went through Central America, and then to Western Africa, the Pacific Islands, India, and a lot of places. We all know the wisdom of the adage that "A rolling stone gathers no moss"; and certainly, if there be any value in moss, Cousin Rupert will die a poor man. Indeed, nothing will stand his idiotic, boastful wastefulness. Look at the way in which, when he came of age, he made over all his mother's little fortune to the MacSkelpie! I am sure that, though Uncle Roger made no comment to my father, who, as Head of our House, should, of course, have been informed, he was not pleased. My mother, who has a good fortune in her own right, and has had the sense to keep it in her own control--as I am to inherit it, and it is not in the entail, I am therefore quite impartial--I can approve of her spirited conduct in the matter. We never did think much of Rupert, anyhow; but now, since he is in the way to be a pauper, and therefore a dangerous nuisance, we look on him as quite an outsider. We know what he really is. For my own part, I loathe and despise him. Just now we are irritated with him, for we are all kept on tenterhooks regarding my dear Uncle Roger's Will. For Mr. Trent, the attorney who regulated my dear uncle's affairs and has possession of the Will, says it is necessary to know where every possible beneficiary is to be found before making the Will public, so we all have to wait. It is especially hard on me, who am the natural heir. It is very thoughtless indeed of Rupert to keep away like that. I wrote to old MacSkelpie about it, but he didn't seem to understand or to be at all anxious--he is not the heir! He said that probably Rupert Sent Leger--he, too, keeps to the old spelling--did not know of his uncle's death, or he would have taken steps to relieve our anxiety. Our anxiety, forsooth! We are not anxious; we only wish to _know_. And if we--and especially me--who have all the annoyance of thinking of the detestable and unfair death-duties, are anxious, we should be so. Well, anyhow, he'll get a properly bitter disappointment and set down when he does turn up and discovers that he is a pauper without hope! * * * * * To-day we (father and I) had letters from Mr. Trent, telling us that the whereabouts of "Mr. Rupert Sent Leger" had been discovered, and that a letter disclosing the fact of poor Uncle Roger's death had been sent to him. He was at Titicaca when last heard of. So goodness only knows when he may get the letter, which "asks him to come home at once, but only gives to him such information about the Will as has already been given to every member of the testator's family." And that is nil. I dare say we shall be kept waiting for months before we get hold of the estate which is ours. It is too bad! _Letter from Edward Bingham Trent to Ernest Roger Halbard Melton_. 176, LINCOLN'S INN FIELDS, _December_ 28, 1906. DEAR SIR, I am glad to be able to inform you that I have just heard by letter from Mr. Rupert St. Leger that he intended leaving Rio de Janeiro by the S.S. _Amazon_, of the Royal Mail Company, on December 15. He further stated that he would cable just before leaving Rio de Janeiro, to say on what day the ship was expected to arrive in London. As all the others possibly interested in the Will of the late Roger Melton, and whose names are given to me in his instructions regarding the reading of the Will, have been advised, and have expressed their intention of being present at that event on being apprised of the time and place, I now beg to inform you that by cable message received the date scheduled for arrival at the Port of London was January 1 prox. I therefore beg to notify you, subject to postponement due to the non-arrival of the _Amazon_, the reading of the Will of the late Roger Melton, Esq., will take place in my office on Thursday, January 3 prox., at eleven o'clock a.m. I have the honour to be, sir, Yours faithfully, EDWARD BINGHAM TRENT. TO ERNEST ROGER HALBARD MELTON, ESQ., HUMCROFT, SALOP. Cable: _Rupert Sent Leger to Edward Bingham Trent_. _Amazon_ arrives London January 1. SENT LEGER. _Telegram_ (_per Lloyd's_): _Rupert Sent Leger to Edward Bingham Trent_. THE LIZARD, _December_ 31. _Amazon_ arrives London to-morrow morning. All well.--LEGER. _Telegram_: _Edward Bingham Trent to Ernest Roger Halbard Mellon_. Rupert Sent Leger arrived. Reading Will takes place as arranged.--TRENT. ERNEST ROGER HALBARD MELTON'S RECORD. _January_ 4, 1907. The reading of Uncle Roger's Will is over. Father got a duplicate of Mr. Trent's letter to me, and of the cable and two telegrams pasted into this Record. We both waited patiently till the third--that is, we did not say anything. The only impatient member of our family was my mother. She _did_ say things, and if old Trent had been here his ears would have been red. She said what ridiculous nonsense it was delaying the reading of the Will, and keeping the Heir waiting for the arrival of an obscure person who wasn't even a member of the family, inasmuch as he didn't bear the name. I don't think it's quite respectful to one who is some day to be Head of the House! I thought father was weakening in his patience when he said: "True, my dear--true!" and got up and left the room. Some time afterwards when I passed the library I heard him walking up and down. Father and I went up to town on the afternoon of Wednesday, January 2. We stayed, of course, at Claridge's, where we always stay when we go to town. Mother wanted to come, too, but father thought it better not. She would not agree to stay at home till we both promised to send her separate telegrams after the reading. At five minutes to eleven we entered Mr. Trent's office. Father would not go a moment earlier, as he said it was bad form to seem eager at any time, but most of all at the reading of a will. It was a rotten grind, for we had to be walking all over the neighbourhood for half an hour before it was time, not to be too early. When we went into the room we found there General Sir Colin MacKelpie and a big man, very bronzed, whom I took to be Rupert St. Leger--not a very creditable connection to look at, I thought! He and old MacKelpie took care to be in time! Rather low, I thought it. Mr. St. Leger was reading a letter. He had evidently come in but lately, for though he seemed to be eager about it, he was only at the first page, and I could see that there were many sheets. He did not look up when we came in, or till he had finished the letter; and you may be sure that neither I nor my father (who, as Head of the House, should have had more respect from him) took the trouble to go to him. After all, he is a pauper and a wastrel, and he has not the honour of bearing our Name. The General, however, came forward and greeted us both cordially. He evidently had forgotten--or pretended to have--the discourteous way he once treated me, for he spoke to me quite in a friendly way--I thought more warmly than he did to father. I was pleased to be spoken to so nicely, for, after all, whatever his manners may be, he is a distinguished man--has won the V.C. and a Baronetcy. He got the latter not long ago, after the Frontier War in India. I was not, however, led away into cordiality myself. I had not forgotten his rudeness, and I thought that he might be sucking up to me. I knew that when I had my dear Uncle Roger's many millions I should be a rather important person; and, of course, he knew it too. So I got even with him for his former impudence. When he held out his hand I put one finger in it, and said, "How do?" He got very red and turned away. Father and he had ended by glaring at each other, so neither of us was sorry to be done with him. All the time Mr. St. Leger did not seem to see or hear anything, but went on reading his letter. I thought the old MacSkelpie was going to bring him into the matter between us, for as he turned away I heard him say something under his breath. It sounded like "Help!" but Mr. S--- did not hear. He certainly no notice of it. As the MacS--- and Mr. S--- sat quite silent, neither looking at us, and as father was sitting on the other side of the room with his chin in his hand, and as I wanted to show that I was indifferent to the two S's, I took out this notebook, and went on with the Record, bringing it up to this moment. THE RECORD--_Continued_. When I had finished writing I looked over at Rupert. When he saw us, he jumped up and went over to father and shook his hand quite warmly. Father took him very coolly. Rupert, however, did not seem to see it, but came towards me heartily. I happened to be doing something else at the moment, and at first I did not see his hand; but just as I was looking at it the clock struck eleven. Whilst it was striking Mr. Trent came into the room. Close behind him came his clerk, carrying a locked tin box. There were two other men also. He bowed to us all in turn, beginning with me. I was standing opposite the door; the others were scattered about. Father sat still, but Sir Colin and Mr. St. Leger rose. Mr. Trent not did shake hands with any of us--not even me. Nothing but his respectful bow. That is the etiquette for an attorney, I understand, on such formal occasions. He sat down at the end of the big table in the centre of the room, and asked us to sit round. Father, of course, as Head of the Family, took the seat at his right hand. Sir Colin and St. Leger went to the other side, the former taking the seat next to the attorney. The General knows, of course, that a Baronet takes precedence at a ceremony. I may be a Baronet some day myself, and have to know these things. The clerk took the key which his master handed to him, opened the tin box, and took from it a bundle of papers tied with red tape. This he placed before the attorney, and put the empty box behind him on the floor. Then he and the other man sat at the far end of the table; the latter took out a big notebook and several pencils, and put them before him. He was evidently a shorthand-writer. Mr. Trent removed the tape from the bundle of papers, which he placed a little distance in front of him. He took a sealed envelope from the top, broke the seal, opened the envelope, and from it took a parchment, in the folds of which were some sealed envelopes, which he laid in a heap in front of the other paper. Then he unfolded the parchment, and laid it before him with the outside page up. He fixed his glasses, and said: "Gentlemen, the sealed envelope which you have seen me open is endorsed 'My Last Will and Testament--ROGER MELTON, _June_, 1906.' This document"--holding it up--"is as follows: "'I Roger Melton of Openshaw Grange in the County of Dorset; of number one hundred and twenty-three Berkeley Square London; and of the Castle of Vissarion in the Land of the Blue Mountains, being of sound mind do make this my Last Will and Testament on this day Monday the eleventh day of the month of June in the year of Our Lord one thousand nine hundred and six at the office of my old friend and Attorney Edward Bingham Trent in number one hundred and seventy-six Lincoln's Inn Fields London hereby revoking all other wills that I may have formerly made and giving this as my sole and last Will making dispositions of my property as follows: "'1. To my kinsman and nephew Ernest Halbard Melton Esquire, justice of the Peace, Humcroft the County of Salop, for his sole use and benefit the sum of twenty thousand pounds sterling free of all Duties Taxes and charges whatever to be paid out of my Five per centum Bonds of the City of Montreal, Canada. "'2. To my respected friend and colleague as co-trustee to the Will of my late sister Patience late widow of the late Captain Rupert Sent Leger who predeceased her, Major-General Sir Colin Alexander MacKelpie, Baronet, holder of the Victoria Cross, Knight Commander of the Order of the Bath, of Croom in the county of Ross Scotland a sum of Twenty thousand pounds sterling free of all Taxes and charges whatsoever; to be paid out of my Five per centum Bonds of the City of Toronto, Canada. "'3. To Miss Janet MacKelpie presently residing at Croom in the County of Ross Scotland the sum of Twenty thousand pounds sterling free of all Duties Taxes and Charges whatsoever, to be paid out of my Five per centum Bonds of the London County Council. "'4. To the various persons charities and Trustees named in the schedule attached to this Will and marked A. the various sums mentioned therein, all free of Duties and Taxes and charges whatsoever.'" Here Mr. Trent read out the list here following, and announced for our immediate understanding of the situation the total amount as two hundred and fifty thousand pounds. Many of the beneficiaries were old friends, comrades, dependents, and servants, some of them being left

are

How many times the word 'are' appears in the text?

you; and if the sword of an old soldier--it is all I have--can ever serve you in any way, it and its master's life are, and shall be, whilst life remains to him, yours. It grieves me to think that Janet cannot, through my act, be given that ease and tranquillity of spirit which come from competence. But, my dear Rupert, you will be of full age in seven years more. Then, if you are in the same mind--and I am sure you will not change--you, being your own master, can do freely as you will. In the meantime, to secure, so far as I can, my dear Janet against any malign stroke of fortune, I have given orders to my factor to remit semi-annually to Janet one full half of such income as may be derived in any form from my estate of Croom. It is, I am sorry to say, heavily mortgaged; but of such as is--or may be, free from such charge as the mortgage entails--something at least will, I trust, remain to her. And, my dear boy, I can frankly say that it is to me a real pleasure that you and I can be linked in one more bond in this association of purpose. I have always held you in my heart as though you were my own son. Let me tell you now that you have acted as I should have liked a son of my own, had I been blessed with one, to have acted. God bless you, my dear. Yours ever, COLIN ALEX. MACKELPIE. _Letter from Roger Melton_, _of Openshaw Grange_, _to Rupert Sent Leger_, _Esq._, 14, _Newland Park_, _Dulwich_, _London_, _S.E._ _July_ 1, 1892. MY DEAR NEPHEW, Your letter of the 30th ult. received. Have carefully considered matter stated, and have come to the conclusion that my duty as a trustee would not allow me to give full consent, as you wish. Let me explain. The testator, in making her will, intended that such fortune as she had at disposal should be used to supply to you her son such benefits as its annual product should procure. To this end, and to provide against wastefulness or foolishness on your part, or, indeed, against any generosity, howsoever worthy, which might impoverish you and so defeat her benevolent intentions regarding your education, comfort, and future good, she did not place the estate directly in your hands, leaving you to do as you might feel inclined about it. But, on the contrary, she entrusted the corpus of it in the hands of men whom she believed should be resolute enough and strong enough to carry out her intent, even against any cajolements or pressure which might be employed to the contrary. It being her intention, then, that such trustees as she appointed would use for your benefit the interest accruing annually from the capital at command, _and that only_ (as specifically directed in the will), so that on your arriving at full age the capital entrusted to us should be handed over to you intact, I find a hard-and-fast duty in the matter of adhering exactly to the directions given. I have no doubt that my co-trustees regard the matter in exactly the same light. Under the circumstances, therefore, we, the trustees, have not only a single and united duty towards you as the object of the testator's wishes, but towards each other as regards the manner of the carrying out of that duty. I take it, therefore, that it would not be consonant with the spirit of the trust or of our own ideas in accepting it that any of us should take a course pleasant to himself which would or might involve a stern opposition on the part of other of the co-trustees. We have each of us to do the unpleasant part of this duty without fear or favour. You understand, of course, that the time which must elapse before you come into absolute possession of your estate is a limited one. As by the terms of the will we are to hand over our trust when you have reached the age of twenty-one, there are only seven years to expire. But till then, though I should gladly meet your wishes if I could, I must adhere to the duty which I have undertaken. At the expiration of that period you will be quite free to divest yourself of your estate without protest or comment of any man. Having now expressed as clearly as I can the limitations by which I am bound with regard to the corpus of your estate, let me say that in any other way which is in my power or discretion I shall be most happy to see your wishes carried out so far as rests with me. Indeed, I shall undertake to use what influence I may possess with my co-trustees to induce them to take a similar view of your wishes. In my own thinking you are quite free to use your own property in your own way. But as, until you shall have attained your majority, you have only life-user in your mother's bequest, you are only at liberty to deal with the annual increment. On our part as trustees we have a first charge on that increment to be used for purposes of your maintenance, clothes, and education. As to what may remain over each half-year, you will be free to deal with it as you choose. On receiving from you a written authorization to your trustees, if you desire the whole sum or any part of it to be paid over to Miss Janet MacKelpie, I shall see that it is effected. Believe me, that our duty is to protect the corpus of the estate, and to this end we may not act on any instruction to imperil it. But there our warranty stops. We can deal during our trusteeship with the corpus only. Further, lest there should arise any error on your part, we can deal with any general instruction for only so long as it may remain unrevoked. You are, and must be, free to alter your instructions or authorizations at any time. Thus your latest document must be used for our guidance. As to the general principle involved in your wish I make no comment. You are at liberty to deal with your own how you will. I quite understand that your impulse is a generous one, and I fully believe that it is in consonance with what had always been the wishes of my sister. Had she been happily alive and had to give judgment of your intent, I am convinced that she would have approved. Therefore, my dear nephew, should you so wish, I shall be happy for her sake as well as your own to pay over on your account (as a confidential matter between you and me), but from my own pocket, a sum equal to that which you wish transferred to Miss Janet MacKelpie. On hearing from you I shall know how to act in the matter. With all good wishes, Believe me to be, Your affectionate uncle, ROGER MELTON. TO RUPERT SENT LEGER, ESQ. _Letter from Rupert Sent Leger to Roger Melton_, _July_ 5, 1892. MY DEAR UNCLE, Thank you heartily for your kind letter. I quite understand, and now see that I should not have asked you as a trustee, such a thing. I see your duty clearly, and agree with your view of it. I enclose a letter directed to my trustees, asking them to pay over annually till further direction to Miss Janet MacKelpie at this address whatever sum may remain over from the interest of my mother's bequest after deduction of such expenses as you may deem fit for my maintenance, clothing, and education, together with a sum of one pound sterling per month, which was the amount my dear mother always gave me for my personal use--"pocket-money," she called it. With regard to your most kind and generous offer to give to my dear Aunt Janet the sum which I would have given myself, had such been in my power, I thank you most truly and sincerely, both for my dear aunt (to whom, of course, I shall not mention the matter unless you specially authorize me) and myself. But, indeed, I think it will be better not to offer it. Aunt Janet is very proud, and would not accept any benefit. With me, of course, it is different, for since I was a wee child she has been like another mother to me, and I love her very much. Since my mother died--and she, of course, was all-in-all to me--there has been no other. And in such a love as ours pride has no place. Thank you again, dear uncle, and God bless you. Your loving nephew, RUPERT SENT LEGER. ERNEST ROGER HALBARD MELTON'S RECORD--_Continued_. And now _re_ the remaining one of Sir Geoffrey's children, Roger. He was the third child and third son, the only daughter, Patience, having been born twenty years after the last of the four sons. Concerning Roger, I shall put down all I have heard of him from my father and grandfather. From my grand-aunt I heard nothing, I was a very small kid when she died; but I remember seeing her, but only once. A very tall, handsome woman of a little over thirty, with very dark hair and light-coloured eyes. I think they were either grey or blue, but I can't remember which. She looked very proud and haughty, but I am bound to say that she was very nice to me. I remember feeling very jealous of Rupert because his mother looked so distinguished. Rupert was eight years older than me, and I was afraid he would beat me if I said anything he did not like. So I was silent except when I forgot to be, and Rupert said very unkindly, and I think very unfairly, that I was "A sulky little beast." I haven't forgot that, and I don't mean to. However, it doesn't matter much what he said or thought. There he is--if he is at all--where no one can find him, with no money or nothing, for what little he had he settled when he came of age, on the MacSkelpie. He wanted to give it to her when his mother died, but father, who was a trustee, refused; and Uncle Roger, as I call him, who is another, thought the trustees had no power to allow Rupert to throw away his matrimony, as I called it, making a joke to father when he called it patrimony. Old Sir Colin MacSkelpie, who is the third, said he couldn't take any part in such a permission, as the MacSkelpie was his niece. He is a rude old man, that. I remember when, not remembering his relationship, I spoke of the MacSkelpie, he caught me a clip on the ear that sent me across the room. His Scotch is very broad. I can hear him say, "Hae some attempt at even Soothern manners, and dinna misca' yer betters, ye young puddock, or I'll wring yer snoot!" Father was, I could see, very much offended, but he didn't say anything. He remembered, I think, that the General is a V.C. man, and was fond of fighting duels. But to show that the fault was not his, _he_ wrung _my_ ear--and the same ear too! I suppose he thought that was justice! But it's only right to say that he made up for it afterwards. When the General had gone he gave me a five-pound note. I don't think Uncle Roger was very pleased with the way Rupert behaved about the legacy, for I don't think he ever saw him from that day to this. Perhaps, of course, it was because Rupert ran away shortly afterwards; but I shall tell about that when I come to him. After all, why should my uncle bother about him? He is not a Melton at all, and I am to be Head of the House--of course, when the Lord thinks right to take father to Himself! Uncle Roger has tons of money, and he never married, so if he wants to leave it in the right direction he needn't have any trouble. He made his money in what he calls "the Eastern Trade." This, so far as I can gather, takes in the Levant and all east of it. I know he has what they call in trade "houses" in all sorts of places--Turkey, and Greece, and all round them, Morocco, Egypt, and Southern Russia, and the Holy Land; then on to Persia, India, and all round it; the Chersonese, China, Japan, and the Pacific Islands. It is not to be expected that we landowners can know much about trade, but my uncle covers--or alas! I must say "covered"--a lot of ground, I can tell you. Uncle Roger was a very grim sort of man, and only that I was brought up to try and be kind to him I shouldn't ever have dared to speak to him. But when was a child father and mother--especially mother--forced me to go and see him and be affectionate to him. He wasn't ever even civil to me, that I can remember--grumpy old bear! But, then, he never saw Rupert at all, so that I take it Master R--- is out of the running altogether for testamentary honours. The last time I saw him myself he was distinctly rude. He treated me as a boy, though I was getting on for eighteen years of age. I came into his office without knocking; and without looking up from his desk, where he was writing, he said: "Get out! Why do you venture to disturb me when I'm busy? Get out, and be damned to you!" I waited where I was, ready to transfix him with my eye when he should look up, for I cannot forget that when my father dies I shall be Head of my House. But when he did there was no transfixing possible. He said quite coolly: "Oh, it's you, is it? I thought it was one of my office boys. Sit down, if you want to see me, and wait till I am ready." So I sat down and waited. Father always said that I should try to conciliate and please my uncle. Father is a very shrewd man, and Uncle Roger is a very rich one. But I don't think Uncle R--- is as shrewd as he thinks he is. He sometimes makes awful mistakes in business. For instance, some years ago he bought an enormous estate on the Adriatic, in the country they call the "Land of Blue Mountains." At least, he says he bought it. He told father so in confidence. But he didn't show any title-deeds, and I'm greatly afraid he was "had." A bad job for me that he was, for father believes he paid an enormous sum for it, and as I am his natural heir, it reduces his available estate to so much less. And now about Rupert. As I have said, he ran away when he was about fourteen, and we did not hear about him for years. When we--or, rather, my father--did hear of him, it was no good that he heard. He had gone as a cabin-boy on a sailing ship round the Horn. Then he joined an exploring party through the centre of Patagonia, and then another up in Alaska, and a third to the Aleutian Islands. After that he went through Central America, and then to Western Africa, the Pacific Islands, India, and a lot of places. We all know the wisdom of the adage that "A rolling stone gathers no moss"; and certainly, if there be any value in moss, Cousin Rupert will die a poor man. Indeed, nothing will stand his idiotic, boastful wastefulness. Look at the way in which, when he came of age, he made over all his mother's little fortune to the MacSkelpie! I am sure that, though Uncle Roger made no comment to my father, who, as Head of our House, should, of course, have been informed, he was not pleased. My mother, who has a good fortune in her own right, and has had the sense to keep it in her own control--as I am to inherit it, and it is not in the entail, I am therefore quite impartial--I can approve of her spirited conduct in the matter. We never did think much of Rupert, anyhow; but now, since he is in the way to be a pauper, and therefore a dangerous nuisance, we look on him as quite an outsider. We know what he really is. For my own part, I loathe and despise him. Just now we are irritated with him, for we are all kept on tenterhooks regarding my dear Uncle Roger's Will. For Mr. Trent, the attorney who regulated my dear uncle's affairs and has possession of the Will, says it is necessary to know where every possible beneficiary is to be found before making the Will public, so we all have to wait. It is especially hard on me, who am the natural heir. It is very thoughtless indeed of Rupert to keep away like that. I wrote to old MacSkelpie about it, but he didn't seem to understand or to be at all anxious--he is not the heir! He said that probably Rupert Sent Leger--he, too, keeps to the old spelling--did not know of his uncle's death, or he would have taken steps to relieve our anxiety. Our anxiety, forsooth! We are not anxious; we only wish to _know_. And if we--and especially me--who have all the annoyance of thinking of the detestable and unfair death-duties, are anxious, we should be so. Well, anyhow, he'll get a properly bitter disappointment and set down when he does turn up and discovers that he is a pauper without hope! * * * * * To-day we (father and I) had letters from Mr. Trent, telling us that the whereabouts of "Mr. Rupert Sent Leger" had been discovered, and that a letter disclosing the fact of poor Uncle Roger's death had been sent to him. He was at Titicaca when last heard of. So goodness only knows when he may get the letter, which "asks him to come home at once, but only gives to him such information about the Will as has already been given to every member of the testator's family." And that is nil. I dare say we shall be kept waiting for months before we get hold of the estate which is ours. It is too bad! _Letter from Edward Bingham Trent to Ernest Roger Halbard Melton_. 176, LINCOLN'S INN FIELDS, _December_ 28, 1906. DEAR SIR, I am glad to be able to inform you that I have just heard by letter from Mr. Rupert St. Leger that he intended leaving Rio de Janeiro by the S.S. _Amazon_, of the Royal Mail Company, on December 15. He further stated that he would cable just before leaving Rio de Janeiro, to say on what day the ship was expected to arrive in London. As all the others possibly interested in the Will of the late Roger Melton, and whose names are given to me in his instructions regarding the reading of the Will, have been advised, and have expressed their intention of being present at that event on being apprised of the time and place, I now beg to inform you that by cable message received the date scheduled for arrival at the Port of London was January 1 prox. I therefore beg to notify you, subject to postponement due to the non-arrival of the _Amazon_, the reading of the Will of the late Roger Melton, Esq., will take place in my office on Thursday, January 3 prox., at eleven o'clock a.m. I have the honour to be, sir, Yours faithfully, EDWARD BINGHAM TRENT. TO ERNEST ROGER HALBARD MELTON, ESQ., HUMCROFT, SALOP. Cable: _Rupert Sent Leger to Edward Bingham Trent_. _Amazon_ arrives London January 1. SENT LEGER. _Telegram_ (_per Lloyd's_): _Rupert Sent Leger to Edward Bingham Trent_. THE LIZARD, _December_ 31. _Amazon_ arrives London to-morrow morning. All well.--LEGER. _Telegram_: _Edward Bingham Trent to Ernest Roger Halbard Mellon_. Rupert Sent Leger arrived. Reading Will takes place as arranged.--TRENT. ERNEST ROGER HALBARD MELTON'S RECORD. _January_ 4, 1907. The reading of Uncle Roger's Will is over. Father got a duplicate of Mr. Trent's letter to me, and of the cable and two telegrams pasted into this Record. We both waited patiently till the third--that is, we did not say anything. The only impatient member of our family was my mother. She _did_ say things, and if old Trent had been here his ears would have been red. She said what ridiculous nonsense it was delaying the reading of the Will, and keeping the Heir waiting for the arrival of an obscure person who wasn't even a member of the family, inasmuch as he didn't bear the name. I don't think it's quite respectful to one who is some day to be Head of the House! I thought father was weakening in his patience when he said: "True, my dear--true!" and got up and left the room. Some time afterwards when I passed the library I heard him walking up and down. Father and I went up to town on the afternoon of Wednesday, January 2. We stayed, of course, at Claridge's, where we always stay when we go to town. Mother wanted to come, too, but father thought it better not. She would not agree to stay at home till we both promised to send her separate telegrams after the reading. At five minutes to eleven we entered Mr. Trent's office. Father would not go a moment earlier, as he said it was bad form to seem eager at any time, but most of all at the reading of a will. It was a rotten grind, for we had to be walking all over the neighbourhood for half an hour before it was time, not to be too early. When we went into the room we found there General Sir Colin MacKelpie and a big man, very bronzed, whom I took to be Rupert St. Leger--not a very creditable connection to look at, I thought! He and old MacKelpie took care to be in time! Rather low, I thought it. Mr. St. Leger was reading a letter. He had evidently come in but lately, for though he seemed to be eager about it, he was only at the first page, and I could see that there were many sheets. He did not look up when we came in, or till he had finished the letter; and you may be sure that neither I nor my father (who, as Head of the House, should have had more respect from him) took the trouble to go to him. After all, he is a pauper and a wastrel, and he has not the honour of bearing our Name. The General, however, came forward and greeted us both cordially. He evidently had forgotten--or pretended to have--the discourteous way he once treated me, for he spoke to me quite in a friendly way--I thought more warmly than he did to father. I was pleased to be spoken to so nicely, for, after all, whatever his manners may be, he is a distinguished man--has won the V.C. and a Baronetcy. He got the latter not long ago, after the Frontier War in India. I was not, however, led away into cordiality myself. I had not forgotten his rudeness, and I thought that he might be sucking up to me. I knew that when I had my dear Uncle Roger's many millions I should be a rather important person; and, of course, he knew it too. So I got even with him for his former impudence. When he held out his hand I put one finger in it, and said, "How do?" He got very red and turned away. Father and he had ended by glaring at each other, so neither of us was sorry to be done with him. All the time Mr. St. Leger did not seem to see or hear anything, but went on reading his letter. I thought the old MacSkelpie was going to bring him into the matter between us, for as he turned away I heard him say something under his breath. It sounded like "Help!" but Mr. S--- did not hear. He certainly no notice of it. As the MacS--- and Mr. S--- sat quite silent, neither looking at us, and as father was sitting on the other side of the room with his chin in his hand, and as I wanted to show that I was indifferent to the two S's, I took out this notebook, and went on with the Record, bringing it up to this moment. THE RECORD--_Continued_. When I had finished writing I looked over at Rupert. When he saw us, he jumped up and went over to father and shook his hand quite warmly. Father took him very coolly. Rupert, however, did not seem to see it, but came towards me heartily. I happened to be doing something else at the moment, and at first I did not see his hand; but just as I was looking at it the clock struck eleven. Whilst it was striking Mr. Trent came into the room. Close behind him came his clerk, carrying a locked tin box. There were two other men also. He bowed to us all in turn, beginning with me. I was standing opposite the door; the others were scattered about. Father sat still, but Sir Colin and Mr. St. Leger rose. Mr. Trent not did shake hands with any of us--not even me. Nothing but his respectful bow. That is the etiquette for an attorney, I understand, on such formal occasions. He sat down at the end of the big table in the centre of the room, and asked us to sit round. Father, of course, as Head of the Family, took the seat at his right hand. Sir Colin and St. Leger went to the other side, the former taking the seat next to the attorney. The General knows, of course, that a Baronet takes precedence at a ceremony. I may be a Baronet some day myself, and have to know these things. The clerk took the key which his master handed to him, opened the tin box, and took from it a bundle of papers tied with red tape. This he placed before the attorney, and put the empty box behind him on the floor. Then he and the other man sat at the far end of the table; the latter took out a big notebook and several pencils, and put them before him. He was evidently a shorthand-writer. Mr. Trent removed the tape from the bundle of papers, which he placed a little distance in front of him. He took a sealed envelope from the top, broke the seal, opened the envelope, and from it took a parchment, in the folds of which were some sealed envelopes, which he laid in a heap in front of the other paper. Then he unfolded the parchment, and laid it before him with the outside page up. He fixed his glasses, and said: "Gentlemen, the sealed envelope which you have seen me open is endorsed 'My Last Will and Testament--ROGER MELTON, _June_, 1906.' This document"--holding it up--"is as follows: "'I Roger Melton of Openshaw Grange in the County of Dorset; of number one hundred and twenty-three Berkeley Square London; and of the Castle of Vissarion in the Land of the Blue Mountains, being of sound mind do make this my Last Will and Testament on this day Monday the eleventh day of the month of June in the year of Our Lord one thousand nine hundred and six at the office of my old friend and Attorney Edward Bingham Trent in number one hundred and seventy-six Lincoln's Inn Fields London hereby revoking all other wills that I may have formerly made and giving this as my sole and last Will making dispositions of my property as follows: "'1. To my kinsman and nephew Ernest Halbard Melton Esquire, justice of the Peace, Humcroft the County of Salop, for his sole use and benefit the sum of twenty thousand pounds sterling free of all Duties Taxes and charges whatever to be paid out of my Five per centum Bonds of the City of Montreal, Canada. "'2. To my respected friend and colleague as co-trustee to the Will of my late sister Patience late widow of the late Captain Rupert Sent Leger who predeceased her, Major-General Sir Colin Alexander MacKelpie, Baronet, holder of the Victoria Cross, Knight Commander of the Order of the Bath, of Croom in the county of Ross Scotland a sum of Twenty thousand pounds sterling free of all Taxes and charges whatsoever; to be paid out of my Five per centum Bonds of the City of Toronto, Canada. "'3. To Miss Janet MacKelpie presently residing at Croom in the County of Ross Scotland the sum of Twenty thousand pounds sterling free of all Duties Taxes and Charges whatsoever, to be paid out of my Five per centum Bonds of the London County Council. "'4. To the various persons charities and Trustees named in the schedule attached to this Will and marked A. the various sums mentioned therein, all free of Duties and Taxes and charges whatsoever.'" Here Mr. Trent read out the list here following, and announced for our immediate understanding of the situation the total amount as two hundred and fifty thousand pounds. Many of the beneficiaries were old friends, comrades, dependents, and servants, some of them being left

thank

How many times the word 'thank' appears in the text?

you? He puts the bowl down again and goes back to Merrick, who seems very upset at leaving his hiding place. TREVES Now please, John, you must do as I say. Come up from there. He starts to help Merrick up, but Merrick just presses himself farther back in the corner, still babbling. There are two raps at the door. Treves goes to it and lets Mothershead in. MOTHERSHEAD Good morning, Mr. Treves. It'll be his bath-time soon. Has he eaten? TREVES Not quite yet, Mrs. Mothershead. There seems to be some difficulty this morning. They both look at the bed. Merrick has almost disappeared under it. MOTHERSHEAD Won't come out, eh? TREVES No, he's very upset about something. MOTHERSHEAD Just being obstinate, sir. I'll handle it. She goes to Merrick and takes hold of his left wrist. MOTHERSHEAD Alright, my son, none of this fuss. Come up from there, this instant. She starts to force him up from the floor. Merrick is moaning now, still trying to get away. TREVES No! Don't pull at him like that. We don't want to frighten him more than he already is. By this time Mothershead has almost got him back on the bed. MOTHERSHEAD Honestly, sir, you must be very firm with this sort. Otherwise they'd lay about on the floor gibbering all day long. All he understands is a good smack. They help Merrick settle back on the pillow. Merrick is still making desperate, unintelligible sounds. TREVES He's had his share of "smacks", Mothershead. I expect that's what drives him under the bed. We must use patience and understanding with this man. MOTHERSHEAD Perhaps you've got the time for that, Mr. Treves, I certainly don't. I've got an entire hospital to look after, and you have your real patients. Don't waste your time with him sir, it's like talking to a wall. I don't mean to be harsh, but truthfully what can you do for him? I'll be back later for his bath. And Mr. Carr Gomm would like to see you when you have a moment. Good day sir. She exits. Treves shuts the door behind her and turns back to the bed. TREVES (to himself) What good am I to you...? He goes to the bed and sits down in front of Merrick, angered by his own seeming uselessness in the situation. TREVES ...What is my purpose? ...It's so important that I understand you. I want to help you, I want to be your doctor... (directly to Merrick) but I can't help you unless you help me, unless I know what you are feeling. I believe there's something back there, there's something you want to say, but I've got to understand you. Do you understand me? Merrick hesitates, then starts babbling again. TREVES No! You are going to talk to me! We are going to show them! We're going to show them that you're not a wall. We are going to talk! Do you understand? Nod your head if you understand me! Slowly Merrick nods yes. TREVES You do understand me! You understand. Now you're going to say it. I've got to hear how you say things. Now, very slowly, say "yes." Treves carefully mouths the word. TREVES "Yes." Merrick is still hesitant, from years of fear, but his eyes betray a growing excitement. Slowly, he tries to talk, his voice a tremulous whisper. MERRICK Yyyy... Yyye... yyyess. TREVES (grabbing Merrick's arm) Yes John! Throughout their dialogue, Merrick is still very garbled, but he no longer babbles. He makes a great effort to speak slowly, to form words the way Treves forms them, to be understood. MERRICK ...Yyes TREVES Yyyess. MERRICK Yyess. TREVES That's much better. I could understand that "yes". MERRICK (pleased) Yes! TREVES Very good! Oh yes! Now listen. I'm going to say some things to you and I want you to repeat them... um... I want you to say them back to me. Do you understand? I'm going to say some things to you and I want you to say them back to me. Do you understand? MERRICK Yes. TREVES Excellent! Now, say... "Hello" MERRICK Hello... TREVES My name is... MERRICK My... name is... TREVES John Merrick. MERRICK John... Merrick TREVES Say "Merrick". MERRICK Merrick... TREVES Say "Mmmerrick." MERRICK Mmmerrick. TREVES Say "Mmmerrick." MERRICK Mmmerrick. TREVES Well, that's alright. I understand you. Now, say the whole thing again, Hello ... MERRICK (haltingly) Hello... my name is... John Merrick. DISSOLVE TO HALLWAY Mrs. Mothershead comes out of the kitchen with a supper tray and walks down the hall, passing the open ward door. We see nurses serving patients their supper. Nora comes out of the ward with a tray which she holds tightly against her. A bowl of soup is spilling on her apron. She catches up with Mothershead. They speak as they walk. NORA Oh, Mrs. Mothershead, please forgive my behavior yesterday. I'm sorry if you're having to do extra work on my account. It was just seeing it... MOTHERSHEAD Patients here are not "its". They are either "he's" or "she's", but that's alright, Ireland. This one's going to be more work for all of us. Good God girl! Mind your broth. Mothershead continues on. Nora guiltily watches her go. ISOLATION WARD Treves and Merrick are absorbed in their work. A knock comes at the door. TREVES Come in. Mothershead enters. TREVES Why, my dear Mrs. Mothershead, how good of you to join us. Mr. Merrick, will you please introduce yourself? MERRICK (hesitantly) Hello, my name is John Merrick. MOTHERSHEAD Good Lord, Mr. Treves! TREVES (exuberantly) We've made tremendous strides today, Mothershead. He listens and repeats with great attention, and this certainly isn't easy for him. MOTHERSHEAD Parrots can do as much, Mr. Treves. It's all very nice, but I don't see the point. You know they won't let him stay here. TREVES (lowering his voice) I'm sure that if Mr. Merrick made a good impression on the hospital committee they'd see that he's the exception to their rule. Now I'm not expecting miracles. I'm not saying he'll be able to read or write, but I do think that I can get him to speak for himself. I'm going to arrange things with Carr Gomm right now. (to Merrick) That was very good, John, very good. That's all for today. We shall do some more tomorrow. Mothershead? Mrs. Mothershead sets the tray down beside Merrick. TREVES I'll see you soon. He and Mothershead exit. Merrick watches the door close. He sighs quietly, looks about, and sees the Bible on the bedside table. He picks it up and, gently runs his fingers over the cover. RECEIVING ROOM - THE LONDON There is total pandemonium in the receiving room. The room is filled with screaming men, women and children. Two drunken women have been fighting with broken bottles and are now covered with blood and cuts. The women are still hysterical, one minute they're sobbing, then in an instant screaming and intent upon fighting again. The crowd keeps them apart. Two Bobbies stand in the background making no move to intercede. To the side we see Bytes watching everything. It is still too violent a scene for the Nurses to come to the women's aide and they stand up in the front of the room waiting. Bytes makes his way along the side of the crowd waiting for a chance to get behind the Nurses and on into the hospital. Now the women begin sobbing again and things quiet some. The Nurses come forward into the crowd. Bytes moves over closer to the hallways. When the Nurses have all gone into the crowd he seizes the chance and disappears into the hospital. CUT TO: Bytes appears and walks down hospital hallway looking about. CARR GOMM'S OFFICE The door opens and Treves enters. CARR (V.O.) Ah, Treves... Treves sits in the armchair. Carr Gomm is sitting at his desk. CARR Have you contacted the British Home and the Royal Hospital? TREVES Ah, no sir. I had planned to see them in the morning. CARR Good! How is the patient? TREVES He's doing very well. In fact that's why I came to see you. I think that if I were to present Mr. Merrick to the hospital committee, then they would have a chance to see for themselves not only the extraordinary nature of the disease, but of the man as well. If the committee had a chance to speak with him, hear him say a few words for himself, I'm sure they would see him as a patient, rather than as a violation of the rules. CARR A few words? I thought he was imbecile? TREVES Well sir, perhaps I should explain... CARR I really don't think that's necessary Treves. I'm quite sure the committee will be able to make an equitable decision on the merits of the case, such as they are. TREVES I don't agree. No one can make a reasonable decision about this man's future without at least meeting him. No doctor would presume to diagnose a patient he had never met. CARR No, Treves, it's out of the question. Now if it was up to me, I'd say "Certainly, let's meet the fellow, by all means," I'm sorry, I simply can't speak for the other members of the committee. TREVES Then will you meet him, as a representative of the committee. CARR Mr. Treves, it's out of the question. I want to hear as soon as possible what the other hospitals can do. I'm sorry. HALLWAY - STAIRCASE - THE LONDON We see Treves leave Carr Gomm's office and walk toward us to the stairwell. As Treves begins down the stairs, he sees Bytes on the next landing coming up. Bytes spots him and goes toward him. BYTES I want my man back. TREVES Just a moment, how did you get in here? BYTES Never mind that, I want my man! TREVES He's still very sick. Please come downstairs with me. I'll explain the situation. BYTES (shouting) DON'T... Don't muck me about. You've had plenty of time to fix him up, and he's leaving with me, NOW. Do you understand me? Now, Mr. Treves. We had a bargain! TREVES You misunderstood. This man suffered a severe fall, if you take my meaning. He's my patient now and I must do what... BYTES Pull the other one, why don't you! We made a deal! TREVES I know what you've done to him and he's never going back to that. BYTES He's a freak! That's how they live. We're partners, him and I, business partners. You're willfully deprivin' me of my livlihood! TREVES All you do is profit from another man's misery! BYTES You think you're better 'n me? YOU wanted the freak to show all your doctor chums and make a name for yourself, you guv. So I gave him to you. On trust, in the name of science! And now I want him back. TREVES You don't own this man! BYTES I want him back! TREVES So you can beat him? So you can starve him? A dog in the street would fare better with you! BYTES I've got my rights, damn you, and I'm going to the authorities! CARR (V.O.) Well, go to the authorities... Now we see Carr Gomm standing above them, at the top of the stairs. CARR By all means do so. In fact, I'll fetch them myself. I'm quite sure they'd be very interested in your story, as well as ours. Livid, Bytes looks from Carr Gomm to Treves, at a loss for words. TREVES Now I think we really do understand one another. BYTES (venomously) Right... Right. He backs slowly down to the landing eyeing Treves and Carr Gomm. At the landing he casually turns and disappears down more stairs. Treves turns and gazes at Carr Gomm. CARR Singularly unpleasant chap... uh... I don't suppose there would be any harm in my meeting your... patient, Mr. Treves. TREVES (gratefully) Thank you very much Sir. Shall we say in a few days then? CARR Shall we say two o'clock tomorrow afternoon? TREVES (slightly taken aback) Wh... whatever is most convenient for you, sir. CARR Two o'clock then... you know Treves... It seems this acquaintance of yours has become rather more than just an acquaintance. TREVES ...Yes, Sir. They part company. We follow Treves down the stairs. TREVES (muttering) Two o'clock? Then we follow Carr Gomm to his office door. He stops short. CARR (mumbling out loud) Elephant Man? I don't want to meet an Elephant Man. HALLWAYS - THE LONDON (NIGHT) Again, the hospital is closing down for the night. Lights go off in each hallway. The staff is vacating the hospital. As the last light goes off, we hear the great iron door slam shut. TREVES' HOUSE - BEDROOM (NIGHT) Anne is at her dressing table, brushing out her hair. She is in a very flattering dressing gown, ready to turn in. We see her reflected in the mirror as well as Treves who is in his robe in the background seated at his side of their bed, deep in thought. Anne looks at Treves and smiles affectionately. ANNE (coyly) Freddie? Getting no response she renews her efforts. ANNE Freddie?... Freddie, don't look so discouraged. TREVES I shouldn't be. We made great progress today. I taught him to repeat a few basic phrases. He did rather well, too, but I had to lead him every step of the way. Though frankly, at times I was unsure of who was leading whom. ANNE What do you mean? TREVES Well, I wasn't sure whether he was parroting me because that's all he was capable of, or whether he sensed that that's all I wanted to hear, and he was trying to please me. ANNE But I thought you said that he was rather... simple? TREVES He is. I mean, I've always thought he was. I think he must be. Is he simple? Or is that just something I've wished upon him to make things simpler for myself? Anne puts down the brush and rises. ANNE Frederick, why are you so interested in this particular case? TREVES I don't know. I can't explain it. If this is an intelligent man, trapped in the body of a monster, then I'm under a moral obligation to help free that mind, free that spirit as best I can, to help him live as full and content a life as possible. But! If he's an imbecile, who's body I can't treat and who's mind I can't touch, well, then my obligation is discharged. They can put him where they will; he won't be bothered, I won't be bothered, and everyone's conscience can remain free and untroubled. And that is my dilemma... what is in his mind? Anne, sympathizing with his concerns goes to him and puts her arms around him. ANNE Perhaps you're just polishing a stone, endowing this Elephant Man with qualities he doesn't possess? TREVES (impatiently) And what qualities are those? Intelligence or stupidity? ANNE (slightly hurt) I'm sure I don't know, Freddie. She releases Treves and lies down. Treves realizes that perhaps he has been unkind. TREVES I'm sorry... I don't know either. I just don't know. ANNE Well, these things take time. TREVES I've only got until two o'clock tomorrow afternoon, when Carr Gomm meets him. Somehow, between now and then I've got to make John Merrick at least seem like an intelligent man... Why am I fooling myself? Nothing short of John delivering the Sermon on the Mount is going to sway Carr Gomm... Anne sits back up and gently places her hand over Treves' mouth. As she does so she leans forward and turns out the light. ISOLATION WARD Merrick is propped up in bed. Suddenly the door bursts open. The Night Porter, an arm around a drunken giggling tart, stands in the doorway. As soon as the Charwoman sees Merrick, she screams as does Merrick, and she wriggles free, making for the stairs. The Night Porter watches her go and then turns to Merrick laughing noisily. He then pulls the door shut with a bang. Merrick, very frightened, crawls down into his hiding place. BEDROOM (MORNING) We see Anne alone in bed, asleep. Treves is finished dressing and leaves the room. The sound of the door closing awakens Anne. She looks around for Treves. A clock reads 5:30. ISOLATION WARD Merrick's disguise hangs on the wall. MERRICK (V.O.) The Lord is my shepherd, I shall not want, he maketh me to lie down in green pastures; He leadeth me beside still waters. He restoreth my soul: He Guideth me in the paths of righteousness... TREVES Righteousness... MERRICK (V.O.) Righteousness for his namesake. WE NOW SEE TREVES AND MERRICK TREVES Very good, very good. Now, when your visitor comes today I want you to say it exactly the way you said it just now. I will introduce him to you and you will say the words you've learned. If you have any trouble with any of the words, I'll help you. I'm sure you'll be just fine. If you do as well for him as you've done for me these last two days, then I'm sure our visitor will be very pleased. Now, let's go through the whole thing again, shall we? I will say "May I introduce you to Mr. Carr Gomm." And you will say... MERRICK Hello, my name is John Merrick. I am very pleased to meet you! HALLWAY Treves and Carr Gomm are speaking together as they walk along. TREVES It's only a physical problem. He has trouble with certain sounds because of the constrictive deformity of the mouth. But he can talk, and has a great eagerness to make contact with people who will let him. So if you have any difficulty understanding what he is saying, just tell me and I'll make it clear. CARR Speaking is one thing, Treves, but can the man comprehend? Treves cannot easily answer this question. TREVES ...As I said, it's only a physical problem... but I do feel that Mr. Merrick is very flattered that you're taking the time and trouble to meet him, and he's most anxious to make a good impression, so he might seem rather nervous. CARR He needn't. I have no desire to cause him any discomfort. Did you make those inquiries we spoke about? TREVES Yes, I spoke to both the British Home and Royal Hospital for Incurables. I'm afraid that they weren't very encouraging, but they said they'd bring it up at their next committee meeting, so we should have their answers shortly. CARR Fine, fine. You know, your dedication to this patient is an inspiring thing, Treves. But you must remember that this is a hospital, and there are many patients here. Patients who can be made well, and you owe them your first consideration. Just don't become so obsessed, old man, that you begin to neglect them. Carr Gomm starts up the stairs. Treves remains behind, watching him for a moment, then follows. ISOLATION WARD Merrick is standing beside his disguise on its hook. He nervously smooths the cloak down, repositions the Bible on the bedside table and smooths the cloak again. He looks at the door, expecting it to open. It doesn't. His hands smooths the cloak over and over again. Voices can be heard outside the door. Merrick freezes. There are two raps at the door. Merrick flinches, clutching the cloak. The raps are repeated. He pulls himself together and walks to the middle of the room. He takes a deep breath and closes his eyes. MERRICK Come in. The door opens and Treves and Carr Gomm enter. Carr Gomm's eyes are rivited on Merrick, but he contains his shock. Merrick is breathing unevenly, his eyes still closed. Treves goes to him and touches his shoulder. Merrick opens his eyes and looks up at Treves. Treves turns to Carr Gomm, as does Merrick. Carr Gomm lowers his eyes. TREVES John, may I introduce you to Sir Carr Gomm. MERRICK Hello... my name is John Merrick. I am very pleased to meet you. Carr Gomm, still shaken, instinctively offers his hand. CARR I'm very... pleased to meet you. Before Carr Gomm can withdraw his hand, Merrick grasps it with his left hand. There is an uncomfortable silence. Merrick releases it. Carr Gomn, nervously clears his throat. CARR How are you feeling today? MERRICK I feel much better. Thank you for asking. And you? CARR I'm feeling very fit, thank you. How is your bronchitis? MERRICK I feel much better. Thank you. CARR Are you comfortable here? MERRICK Everyone has been very kind. I am extremely grateful. TREVES Mr. Merrick likes the food here. Don't you John? MERRICK Oh yes! It is much better than what I am used to. CARR Oh yes? TREVES (after a pause) And what was that, John? MERRICK Potatoes... There is another agonizing silence. TREVES (to Carr Gomm) ...Yes potatoes... but... MERRICK But the variety of food here is very pleasing... I commend you. CARR (after a pause) I understand that you were beaten? Merrick is at a loss. This is not part of the expected scenario. DIERRICK Oh no, everyone has been very kind. CARR No, I meant in your former situation. Merrick doesn't seem to understand. MERRICK I'm feeling much better now... Carr Gomm stares levelly at Treves for a moment, then asks Merrick: CARR Tell me, how do you like Mr. Treves? As a teacher? Treves stiffens. MERRICK ...I... everyone has been very kind to me. CARR Of course. How long did you and Mr. Treves prepare for this interview? Merrick looks at Treves for guidance, but Treves cannot look him in the eye. MERRICK ...everyone has been very kind. CARR Yes, of course... Well, it's been a pleasure meeting you, Mr. Merrick. Good day. TREVES (to John) Thank you, John. You did very well. Treves and Carr Gomm go out the door onto the landing. Merrick sees his chance escaping him and tries to recapture their attention. MERRICK (his voice is gaining strength) The Lord is my shepherd, I shall not want. He maketh me to lie down in green pastures... (he continues through the following dialogue) Treves and Carr Gomm are alone on the landing, speaking quietly. CARR It was a nice try, Treves, but the man is so obviously mouthing your words. TREVES Yes, I'm very sorry to have wasted your time, sir. I just felt that I had to do anything I could to protect him. CARR I'm sorry too. He simply doesn't belong here. He's be much happier somewhere else, where he could be constantly looked after. Believe me, Frederick, it's better that it worked out this way. Good day. Merrick has come to the end of what Treves taught him to say. He makes one last, desperate attempt to be heard. Treves, disheartened, stands on the landing as Carr Gomm starts down the stairs. MERRICK (V.O.) (now full voice) Yea, though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I will fear no evil, for Thou art with me; Thy rod and Thy staff, they comfort me... Treves is staring, open-mouthed, back into the room. Carr Gomm looks up at him. CARR What is it, Treves? MERRICK (V.O.) Thou preparest a table before me in the presence of mine enemies, Thou anointest my head with oil... TREVES I didn't teach him that part! Treves rushes back into the room, followed by Carr Gomm. MERRICK My cup runneth over. Surely goodness and loving kindness shall follow me all the days of my life, and I shall dwell in the house of the Lord forever. There is a long silence as all three men stare at each other. TREVES How did you, know the rest? I never taught you the rest of it. CARR I don't understand. TREVES Tell me, John, how did you know the rest of the 23rd Psalm? MERRICK (hesitantly) I... I used to read the Bible every day. I know it very well. The Bible, and the Book of Common Prayer. The 23rd Psalm is very beautiful. ISOLATION WARD A few minutes later. We hear voices inside the room. CARR (V.O.) It was a great pleasure to meet you, Mr. Merrick. MERRICK I am very pleased to meet you. CARR I hope we can talk together again sometime. Good day. The door opens and Carr Gomm and Treves come out. TREVES (to Merrick) I'll be right back. He closes the door. CARR I want to see you in my office as soon as you're through up here. We've a good deal to discuss. He starts down the stairs. TREVES Of course, sir. Thank you, thank you very much. Carr Gomm stops on the stairs. CARR Treves. Well done. TREVES Not me, sir. Mr. Merrick. He succeeded in spite of my shortsightedness. ISOLATION WARD Merrick is on the bed, propped up by pillows. The door opens. Treves comes in, shuts the door and leans against it. They look at each other for a moment. TREVES Why did you let me go on like that, teaching you what you already knew? Why didn't you tell me you could read? MERRICK You did not ask me. TREVES I never thought to ask. How can you ever forgive me? MERRICK Oh, no do not say that. You have been so kind to me. I was afraid to say too much. People always want me to be quiet. You wanted me to speak, but I was afraid. Forgive me. TREVES We do have a lot to talk about, don't we? CARR GOMM'S OFFICE Carr Gomm is seated at the window, looking out silently. There is a knock at the door and Treves enters. He quietly closes the door and walks to the window. Carr Gomm never moves. CARR Can you imagine what his life has been like? TREVES Yes, I think I can. CARR No you can't. You can't begin to know, no one can. Carr Gomm suddenly stands and faces Treves. CARR You are quite right, Treves, this is an exceptional case. And I quite agree that the committee should see Mr. Merrick. TREVES I could easily arrange... CARR No, not that way. Broadneck and the others don't like to deal with patients directly. It makes them queasy... Do you have any photographs of Mr. Merrick? TREVES Well, yes. CARR Excellent. We shall present them, along with the other particulars of the case to the committee. I want them to see, exactly, how horribly his body has been affected. You and I shall vouch for his inner qualities. TREVES Do you think they'll go along with us? CARR Of course they will. They're reasonable men. ISOLATION WARD Merrick is in bed, very tired. It's been an exhausting day. Suddenly the door opens and Mothershead comes into the room. Merrick looks up at her very apprehensively. She walks over to the bed, picks up the Bible from the table, opens it and hands it to Merrick. MOTHERSHEAD Read it. Merrick looks down at the Bible. MERRICK Thou heardest my voice; hide not thine ear at my breathing, At my cry. Mothershead backs slowly to the door, deeply disturbed. She stares at Merrick for a moment. MOTHERSHEAD Credit where credit is due. You'll have the paper every morning at breakfast. She quickly turns and exits. Merrick looks down at the Bible. It is open to "Lamentations". HALLWAY - THE LONDON (NIGHT) As before the lights are going off in one hallway after another. The hallways are empty, dark and silent. We hear the great iron door close with a bang. ISOLATION WARD (NIGHT) Merrick is in his bed as always. He holds the portrait of the beautiful woman, gazing at it longingly. He hears a door close far away in the silence of the hospital. Suddenly we hear the heavy footfalls of the Night Porter's boots. As they get louder and louder we move slowly closer to Merrick's face. The sound is very close now, and Merrick's eyes are visibly agitated. Finally, the door bursts open and the Night Porter is standing there. He stares malevolently at Merrick for a long moment and then walks to him menacingly. NIGHT PORTER I hear you have some trouble sleepin'... He grabs Merrick fiercely by the hair and jerks his head back. Merrick immediately starts to wheeze and gasp. NIGHT PORTER Head's too heavy, eh? He pulls Merrick all the way down onto the bed, so that he is prone, struggling for breath. NIGHT PORTER And I heard a nasty rumor about you; I heard you can talk but you can't, can you... can you... can you?... MERRICK (struggling) Noooo! The Night Porter is as first surprised, and then pleased at the desperate sound. NIGHT PORTER No... No you can't! One word about me out of that stinking cakehole... Just ONE word, and you'll have no trouble at sleepin'... no trouble at all. You understand me? Do you!! MERRICK (croaking) Yyyesss. Satisfied, the Night Porter rights Merrick who is just able to catch his breath. The Night Porter smiles and pats Merrick on the shoulder. NIGHT PORTER There now, that's better, i'n' it? HALLWAY Treves and Carr Gomm are on their way to the committee meeting, confident of their position. Treves is holding a folder, and Carr Gomm is looking at the photographs of Merrick. CARR As far as I can see, the only obstacle might be Broadneck. He has enormous influence over the others, very old school, not an easy man to impress. In any case, if worse does come to worse, we still have the British and Royal Homes to fall back on, don't we. Treves is silent. They stop. CARR Don't we? TREVES No, we don't. Their committees have informed me that they're unwilling to take Mr. Merrick, even if they were supplied with funds. They don't want

front

How many times the word 'front' appears in the text?

you? He puts the bowl down again and goes back to Merrick, who seems very upset at leaving his hiding place. TREVES Now please, John, you must do as I say. Come up from there. He starts to help Merrick up, but Merrick just presses himself farther back in the corner, still babbling. There are two raps at the door. Treves goes to it and lets Mothershead in. MOTHERSHEAD Good morning, Mr. Treves. It'll be his bath-time soon. Has he eaten? TREVES Not quite yet, Mrs. Mothershead. There seems to be some difficulty this morning. They both look at the bed. Merrick has almost disappeared under it. MOTHERSHEAD Won't come out, eh? TREVES No, he's very upset about something. MOTHERSHEAD Just being obstinate, sir. I'll handle it. She goes to Merrick and takes hold of his left wrist. MOTHERSHEAD Alright, my son, none of this fuss. Come up from there, this instant. She starts to force him up from the floor. Merrick is moaning now, still trying to get away. TREVES No! Don't pull at him like that. We don't want to frighten him more than he already is. By this time Mothershead has almost got him back on the bed. MOTHERSHEAD Honestly, sir, you must be very firm with this sort. Otherwise they'd lay about on the floor gibbering all day long. All he understands is a good smack. They help Merrick settle back on the pillow. Merrick is still making desperate, unintelligible sounds. TREVES He's had his share of "smacks", Mothershead. I expect that's what drives him under the bed. We must use patience and understanding with this man. MOTHERSHEAD Perhaps you've got the time for that, Mr. Treves, I certainly don't. I've got an entire hospital to look after, and you have your real patients. Don't waste your time with him sir, it's like talking to a wall. I don't mean to be harsh, but truthfully what can you do for him? I'll be back later for his bath. And Mr. Carr Gomm would like to see you when you have a moment. Good day sir. She exits. Treves shuts the door behind her and turns back to the bed. TREVES (to himself) What good am I to you...? He goes to the bed and sits down in front of Merrick, angered by his own seeming uselessness in the situation. TREVES ...What is my purpose? ...It's so important that I understand you. I want to help you, I want to be your doctor... (directly to Merrick) but I can't help you unless you help me, unless I know what you are feeling. I believe there's something back there, there's something you want to say, but I've got to understand you. Do you understand me? Merrick hesitates, then starts babbling again. TREVES No! You are going to talk to me! We are going to show them! We're going to show them that you're not a wall. We are going to talk! Do you understand? Nod your head if you understand me! Slowly Merrick nods yes. TREVES You do understand me! You understand. Now you're going to say it. I've got to hear how you say things. Now, very slowly, say "yes." Treves carefully mouths the word. TREVES "Yes." Merrick is still hesitant, from years of fear, but his eyes betray a growing excitement. Slowly, he tries to talk, his voice a tremulous whisper. MERRICK Yyyy... Yyye... yyyess. TREVES (grabbing Merrick's arm) Yes John! Throughout their dialogue, Merrick is still very garbled, but he no longer babbles. He makes a great effort to speak slowly, to form words the way Treves forms them, to be understood. MERRICK ...Yyes TREVES Yyyess. MERRICK Yyess. TREVES That's much better. I could understand that "yes". MERRICK (pleased) Yes! TREVES Very good! Oh yes! Now listen. I'm going to say some things to you and I want you to repeat them... um... I want you to say them back to me. Do you understand? I'm going to say some things to you and I want you to say them back to me. Do you understand? MERRICK Yes. TREVES Excellent! Now, say... "Hello" MERRICK Hello... TREVES My name is... MERRICK My... name is... TREVES John Merrick. MERRICK John... Merrick TREVES Say "Merrick". MERRICK Merrick... TREVES Say "Mmmerrick." MERRICK Mmmerrick. TREVES Say "Mmmerrick." MERRICK Mmmerrick. TREVES Well, that's alright. I understand you. Now, say the whole thing again, Hello ... MERRICK (haltingly) Hello... my name is... John Merrick. DISSOLVE TO HALLWAY Mrs. Mothershead comes out of the kitchen with a supper tray and walks down the hall, passing the open ward door. We see nurses serving patients their supper. Nora comes out of the ward with a tray which she holds tightly against her. A bowl of soup is spilling on her apron. She catches up with Mothershead. They speak as they walk. NORA Oh, Mrs. Mothershead, please forgive my behavior yesterday. I'm sorry if you're having to do extra work on my account. It was just seeing it... MOTHERSHEAD Patients here are not "its". They are either "he's" or "she's", but that's alright, Ireland. This one's going to be more work for all of us. Good God girl! Mind your broth. Mothershead continues on. Nora guiltily watches her go. ISOLATION WARD Treves and Merrick are absorbed in their work. A knock comes at the door. TREVES Come in. Mothershead enters. TREVES Why, my dear Mrs. Mothershead, how good of you to join us. Mr. Merrick, will you please introduce yourself? MERRICK (hesitantly) Hello, my name is John Merrick. MOTHERSHEAD Good Lord, Mr. Treves! TREVES (exuberantly) We've made tremendous strides today, Mothershead. He listens and repeats with great attention, and this certainly isn't easy for him. MOTHERSHEAD Parrots can do as much, Mr. Treves. It's all very nice, but I don't see the point. You know they won't let him stay here. TREVES (lowering his voice) I'm sure that if Mr. Merrick made a good impression on the hospital committee they'd see that he's the exception to their rule. Now I'm not expecting miracles. I'm not saying he'll be able to read or write, but I do think that I can get him to speak for himself. I'm going to arrange things with Carr Gomm right now. (to Merrick) That was very good, John, very good. That's all for today. We shall do some more tomorrow. Mothershead? Mrs. Mothershead sets the tray down beside Merrick. TREVES I'll see you soon. He and Mothershead exit. Merrick watches the door close. He sighs quietly, looks about, and sees the Bible on the bedside table. He picks it up and, gently runs his fingers over the cover. RECEIVING ROOM - THE LONDON There is total pandemonium in the receiving room. The room is filled with screaming men, women and children. Two drunken women have been fighting with broken bottles and are now covered with blood and cuts. The women are still hysterical, one minute they're sobbing, then in an instant screaming and intent upon fighting again. The crowd keeps them apart. Two Bobbies stand in the background making no move to intercede. To the side we see Bytes watching everything. It is still too violent a scene for the Nurses to come to the women's aide and they stand up in the front of the room waiting. Bytes makes his way along the side of the crowd waiting for a chance to get behind the Nurses and on into the hospital. Now the women begin sobbing again and things quiet some. The Nurses come forward into the crowd. Bytes moves over closer to the hallways. When the Nurses have all gone into the crowd he seizes the chance and disappears into the hospital. CUT TO: Bytes appears and walks down hospital hallway looking about. CARR GOMM'S OFFICE The door opens and Treves enters. CARR (V.O.) Ah, Treves... Treves sits in the armchair. Carr Gomm is sitting at his desk. CARR Have you contacted the British Home and the Royal Hospital? TREVES Ah, no sir. I had planned to see them in the morning. CARR Good! How is the patient? TREVES He's doing very well. In fact that's why I came to see you. I think that if I were to present Mr. Merrick to the hospital committee, then they would have a chance to see for themselves not only the extraordinary nature of the disease, but of the man as well. If the committee had a chance to speak with him, hear him say a few words for himself, I'm sure they would see him as a patient, rather than as a violation of the rules. CARR A few words? I thought he was imbecile? TREVES Well sir, perhaps I should explain... CARR I really don't think that's necessary Treves. I'm quite sure the committee will be able to make an equitable decision on the merits of the case, such as they are. TREVES I don't agree. No one can make a reasonable decision about this man's future without at least meeting him. No doctor would presume to diagnose a patient he had never met. CARR No, Treves, it's out of the question. Now if it was up to me, I'd say "Certainly, let's meet the fellow, by all means," I'm sorry, I simply can't speak for the other members of the committee. TREVES Then will you meet him, as a representative of the committee. CARR Mr. Treves, it's out of the question. I want to hear as soon as possible what the other hospitals can do. I'm sorry. HALLWAY - STAIRCASE - THE LONDON We see Treves leave Carr Gomm's office and walk toward us to the stairwell. As Treves begins down the stairs, he sees Bytes on the next landing coming up. Bytes spots him and goes toward him. BYTES I want my man back. TREVES Just a moment, how did you get in here? BYTES Never mind that, I want my man! TREVES He's still very sick. Please come downstairs with me. I'll explain the situation. BYTES (shouting) DON'T... Don't muck me about. You've had plenty of time to fix him up, and he's leaving with me, NOW. Do you understand me? Now, Mr. Treves. We had a bargain! TREVES You misunderstood. This man suffered a severe fall, if you take my meaning. He's my patient now and I must do what... BYTES Pull the other one, why don't you! We made a deal! TREVES I know what you've done to him and he's never going back to that. BYTES He's a freak! That's how they live. We're partners, him and I, business partners. You're willfully deprivin' me of my livlihood! TREVES All you do is profit from another man's misery! BYTES You think you're better 'n me? YOU wanted the freak to show all your doctor chums and make a name for yourself, you guv. So I gave him to you. On trust, in the name of science! And now I want him back. TREVES You don't own this man! BYTES I want him back! TREVES So you can beat him? So you can starve him? A dog in the street would fare better with you! BYTES I've got my rights, damn you, and I'm going to the authorities! CARR (V.O.) Well, go to the authorities... Now we see Carr Gomm standing above them, at the top of the stairs. CARR By all means do so. In fact, I'll fetch them myself. I'm quite sure they'd be very interested in your story, as well as ours. Livid, Bytes looks from Carr Gomm to Treves, at a loss for words. TREVES Now I think we really do understand one another. BYTES (venomously) Right... Right. He backs slowly down to the landing eyeing Treves and Carr Gomm. At the landing he casually turns and disappears down more stairs. Treves turns and gazes at Carr Gomm. CARR Singularly unpleasant chap... uh... I don't suppose there would be any harm in my meeting your... patient, Mr. Treves. TREVES (gratefully) Thank you very much Sir. Shall we say in a few days then? CARR Shall we say two o'clock tomorrow afternoon? TREVES (slightly taken aback) Wh... whatever is most convenient for you, sir. CARR Two o'clock then... you know Treves... It seems this acquaintance of yours has become rather more than just an acquaintance. TREVES ...Yes, Sir. They part company. We follow Treves down the stairs. TREVES (muttering) Two o'clock? Then we follow Carr Gomm to his office door. He stops short. CARR (mumbling out loud) Elephant Man? I don't want to meet an Elephant Man. HALLWAYS - THE LONDON (NIGHT) Again, the hospital is closing down for the night. Lights go off in each hallway. The staff is vacating the hospital. As the last light goes off, we hear the great iron door slam shut. TREVES' HOUSE - BEDROOM (NIGHT) Anne is at her dressing table, brushing out her hair. She is in a very flattering dressing gown, ready to turn in. We see her reflected in the mirror as well as Treves who is in his robe in the background seated at his side of their bed, deep in thought. Anne looks at Treves and smiles affectionately. ANNE (coyly) Freddie? Getting no response she renews her efforts. ANNE Freddie?... Freddie, don't look so discouraged. TREVES I shouldn't be. We made great progress today. I taught him to repeat a few basic phrases. He did rather well, too, but I had to lead him every step of the way. Though frankly, at times I was unsure of who was leading whom. ANNE What do you mean? TREVES Well, I wasn't sure whether he was parroting me because that's all he was capable of, or whether he sensed that that's all I wanted to hear, and he was trying to please me. ANNE But I thought you said that he was rather... simple? TREVES He is. I mean, I've always thought he was. I think he must be. Is he simple? Or is that just something I've wished upon him to make things simpler for myself? Anne puts down the brush and rises. ANNE Frederick, why are you so interested in this particular case? TREVES I don't know. I can't explain it. If this is an intelligent man, trapped in the body of a monster, then I'm under a moral obligation to help free that mind, free that spirit as best I can, to help him live as full and content a life as possible. But! If he's an imbecile, who's body I can't treat and who's mind I can't touch, well, then my obligation is discharged. They can put him where they will; he won't be bothered, I won't be bothered, and everyone's conscience can remain free and untroubled. And that is my dilemma... what is in his mind? Anne, sympathizing with his concerns goes to him and puts her arms around him. ANNE Perhaps you're just polishing a stone, endowing this Elephant Man with qualities he doesn't possess? TREVES (impatiently) And what qualities are those? Intelligence or stupidity? ANNE (slightly hurt) I'm sure I don't know, Freddie. She releases Treves and lies down. Treves realizes that perhaps he has been unkind. TREVES I'm sorry... I don't know either. I just don't know. ANNE Well, these things take time. TREVES I've only got until two o'clock tomorrow afternoon, when Carr Gomm meets him. Somehow, between now and then I've got to make John Merrick at least seem like an intelligent man... Why am I fooling myself? Nothing short of John delivering the Sermon on the Mount is going to sway Carr Gomm... Anne sits back up and gently places her hand over Treves' mouth. As she does so she leans forward and turns out the light. ISOLATION WARD Merrick is propped up in bed. Suddenly the door bursts open. The Night Porter, an arm around a drunken giggling tart, stands in the doorway. As soon as the Charwoman sees Merrick, she screams as does Merrick, and she wriggles free, making for the stairs. The Night Porter watches her go and then turns to Merrick laughing noisily. He then pulls the door shut with a bang. Merrick, very frightened, crawls down into his hiding place. BEDROOM (MORNING) We see Anne alone in bed, asleep. Treves is finished dressing and leaves the room. The sound of the door closing awakens Anne. She looks around for Treves. A clock reads 5:30. ISOLATION WARD Merrick's disguise hangs on the wall. MERRICK (V.O.) The Lord is my shepherd, I shall not want, he maketh me to lie down in green pastures; He leadeth me beside still waters. He restoreth my soul: He Guideth me in the paths of righteousness... TREVES Righteousness... MERRICK (V.O.) Righteousness for his namesake. WE NOW SEE TREVES AND MERRICK TREVES Very good, very good. Now, when your visitor comes today I want you to say it exactly the way you said it just now. I will introduce him to you and you will say the words you've learned. If you have any trouble with any of the words, I'll help you. I'm sure you'll be just fine. If you do as well for him as you've done for me these last two days, then I'm sure our visitor will be very pleased. Now, let's go through the whole thing again, shall we? I will say "May I introduce you to Mr. Carr Gomm." And you will say... MERRICK Hello, my name is John Merrick. I am very pleased to meet you! HALLWAY Treves and Carr Gomm are speaking together as they walk along. TREVES It's only a physical problem. He has trouble with certain sounds because of the constrictive deformity of the mouth. But he can talk, and has a great eagerness to make contact with people who will let him. So if you have any difficulty understanding what he is saying, just tell me and I'll make it clear. CARR Speaking is one thing, Treves, but can the man comprehend? Treves cannot easily answer this question. TREVES ...As I said, it's only a physical problem... but I do feel that Mr. Merrick is very flattered that you're taking the time and trouble to meet him, and he's most anxious to make a good impression, so he might seem rather nervous. CARR He needn't. I have no desire to cause him any discomfort. Did you make those inquiries we spoke about? TREVES Yes, I spoke to both the British Home and Royal Hospital for Incurables. I'm afraid that they weren't very encouraging, but they said they'd bring it up at their next committee meeting, so we should have their answers shortly. CARR Fine, fine. You know, your dedication to this patient is an inspiring thing, Treves. But you must remember that this is a hospital, and there are many patients here. Patients who can be made well, and you owe them your first consideration. Just don't become so obsessed, old man, that you begin to neglect them. Carr Gomm starts up the stairs. Treves remains behind, watching him for a moment, then follows. ISOLATION WARD Merrick is standing beside his disguise on its hook. He nervously smooths the cloak down, repositions the Bible on the bedside table and smooths the cloak again. He looks at the door, expecting it to open. It doesn't. His hands smooths the cloak over and over again. Voices can be heard outside the door. Merrick freezes. There are two raps at the door. Merrick flinches, clutching the cloak. The raps are repeated. He pulls himself together and walks to the middle of the room. He takes a deep breath and closes his eyes. MERRICK Come in. The door opens and Treves and Carr Gomm enter. Carr Gomm's eyes are rivited on Merrick, but he contains his shock. Merrick is breathing unevenly, his eyes still closed. Treves goes to him and touches his shoulder. Merrick opens his eyes and looks up at Treves. Treves turns to Carr Gomm, as does Merrick. Carr Gomm lowers his eyes. TREVES John, may I introduce you to Sir Carr Gomm. MERRICK Hello... my name is John Merrick. I am very pleased to meet you. Carr Gomm, still shaken, instinctively offers his hand. CARR I'm very... pleased to meet you. Before Carr Gomm can withdraw his hand, Merrick grasps it with his left hand. There is an uncomfortable silence. Merrick releases it. Carr Gomn, nervously clears his throat. CARR How are you feeling today? MERRICK I feel much better. Thank you for asking. And you? CARR I'm feeling very fit, thank you. How is your bronchitis? MERRICK I feel much better. Thank you. CARR Are you comfortable here? MERRICK Everyone has been very kind. I am extremely grateful. TREVES Mr. Merrick likes the food here. Don't you John? MERRICK Oh yes! It is much better than what I am used to. CARR Oh yes? TREVES (after a pause) And what was that, John? MERRICK Potatoes... There is another agonizing silence. TREVES (to Carr Gomm) ...Yes potatoes... but... MERRICK But the variety of food here is very pleasing... I commend you. CARR (after a pause) I understand that you were beaten? Merrick is at a loss. This is not part of the expected scenario. DIERRICK Oh no, everyone has been very kind. CARR No, I meant in your former situation. Merrick doesn't seem to understand. MERRICK I'm feeling much better now... Carr Gomm stares levelly at Treves for a moment, then asks Merrick: CARR Tell me, how do you like Mr. Treves? As a teacher? Treves stiffens. MERRICK ...I... everyone has been very kind to me. CARR Of course. How long did you and Mr. Treves prepare for this interview? Merrick looks at Treves for guidance, but Treves cannot look him in the eye. MERRICK ...everyone has been very kind. CARR Yes, of course... Well, it's been a pleasure meeting you, Mr. Merrick. Good day. TREVES (to John) Thank you, John. You did very well. Treves and Carr Gomm go out the door onto the landing. Merrick sees his chance escaping him and tries to recapture their attention. MERRICK (his voice is gaining strength) The Lord is my shepherd, I shall not want. He maketh me to lie down in green pastures... (he continues through the following dialogue) Treves and Carr Gomm are alone on the landing, speaking quietly. CARR It was a nice try, Treves, but the man is so obviously mouthing your words. TREVES Yes, I'm very sorry to have wasted your time, sir. I just felt that I had to do anything I could to protect him. CARR I'm sorry too. He simply doesn't belong here. He's be much happier somewhere else, where he could be constantly looked after. Believe me, Frederick, it's better that it worked out this way. Good day. Merrick has come to the end of what Treves taught him to say. He makes one last, desperate attempt to be heard. Treves, disheartened, stands on the landing as Carr Gomm starts down the stairs. MERRICK (V.O.) (now full voice) Yea, though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I will fear no evil, for Thou art with me; Thy rod and Thy staff, they comfort me... Treves is staring, open-mouthed, back into the room. Carr Gomm looks up at him. CARR What is it, Treves? MERRICK (V.O.) Thou preparest a table before me in the presence of mine enemies, Thou anointest my head with oil... TREVES I didn't teach him that part! Treves rushes back into the room, followed by Carr Gomm. MERRICK My cup runneth over. Surely goodness and loving kindness shall follow me all the days of my life, and I shall dwell in the house of the Lord forever. There is a long silence as all three men stare at each other. TREVES How did you, know the rest? I never taught you the rest of it. CARR I don't understand. TREVES Tell me, John, how did you know the rest of the 23rd Psalm? MERRICK (hesitantly) I... I used to read the Bible every day. I know it very well. The Bible, and the Book of Common Prayer. The 23rd Psalm is very beautiful. ISOLATION WARD A few minutes later. We hear voices inside the room. CARR (V.O.) It was a great pleasure to meet you, Mr. Merrick. MERRICK I am very pleased to meet you. CARR I hope we can talk together again sometime. Good day. The door opens and Carr Gomm and Treves come out. TREVES (to Merrick) I'll be right back. He closes the door. CARR I want to see you in my office as soon as you're through up here. We've a good deal to discuss. He starts down the stairs. TREVES Of course, sir. Thank you, thank you very much. Carr Gomm stops on the stairs. CARR Treves. Well done. TREVES Not me, sir. Mr. Merrick. He succeeded in spite of my shortsightedness. ISOLATION WARD Merrick is on the bed, propped up by pillows. The door opens. Treves comes in, shuts the door and leans against it. They look at each other for a moment. TREVES Why did you let me go on like that, teaching you what you already knew? Why didn't you tell me you could read? MERRICK You did not ask me. TREVES I never thought to ask. How can you ever forgive me? MERRICK Oh, no do not say that. You have been so kind to me. I was afraid to say too much. People always want me to be quiet. You wanted me to speak, but I was afraid. Forgive me. TREVES We do have a lot to talk about, don't we? CARR GOMM'S OFFICE Carr Gomm is seated at the window, looking out silently. There is a knock at the door and Treves enters. He quietly closes the door and walks to the window. Carr Gomm never moves. CARR Can you imagine what his life has been like? TREVES Yes, I think I can. CARR No you can't. You can't begin to know, no one can. Carr Gomm suddenly stands and faces Treves. CARR You are quite right, Treves, this is an exceptional case. And I quite agree that the committee should see Mr. Merrick. TREVES I could easily arrange... CARR No, not that way. Broadneck and the others don't like to deal with patients directly. It makes them queasy... Do you have any photographs of Mr. Merrick? TREVES Well, yes. CARR Excellent. We shall present them, along with the other particulars of the case to the committee. I want them to see, exactly, how horribly his body has been affected. You and I shall vouch for his inner qualities. TREVES Do you think they'll go along with us? CARR Of course they will. They're reasonable men. ISOLATION WARD Merrick is in bed, very tired. It's been an exhausting day. Suddenly the door opens and Mothershead comes into the room. Merrick looks up at her very apprehensively. She walks over to the bed, picks up the Bible from the table, opens it and hands it to Merrick. MOTHERSHEAD Read it. Merrick looks down at the Bible. MERRICK Thou heardest my voice; hide not thine ear at my breathing, At my cry. Mothershead backs slowly to the door, deeply disturbed. She stares at Merrick for a moment. MOTHERSHEAD Credit where credit is due. You'll have the paper every morning at breakfast. She quickly turns and exits. Merrick looks down at the Bible. It is open to "Lamentations". HALLWAY - THE LONDON (NIGHT) As before the lights are going off in one hallway after another. The hallways are empty, dark and silent. We hear the great iron door close with a bang. ISOLATION WARD (NIGHT) Merrick is in his bed as always. He holds the portrait of the beautiful woman, gazing at it longingly. He hears a door close far away in the silence of the hospital. Suddenly we hear the heavy footfalls of the Night Porter's boots. As they get louder and louder we move slowly closer to Merrick's face. The sound is very close now, and Merrick's eyes are visibly agitated. Finally, the door bursts open and the Night Porter is standing there. He stares malevolently at Merrick for a long moment and then walks to him menacingly. NIGHT PORTER I hear you have some trouble sleepin'... He grabs Merrick fiercely by the hair and jerks his head back. Merrick immediately starts to wheeze and gasp. NIGHT PORTER Head's too heavy, eh? He pulls Merrick all the way down onto the bed, so that he is prone, struggling for breath. NIGHT PORTER And I heard a nasty rumor about you; I heard you can talk but you can't, can you... can you... can you?... MERRICK (struggling) Noooo! The Night Porter is as first surprised, and then pleased at the desperate sound. NIGHT PORTER No... No you can't! One word about me out of that stinking cakehole... Just ONE word, and you'll have no trouble at sleepin'... no trouble at all. You understand me? Do you!! MERRICK (croaking) Yyyesss. Satisfied, the Night Porter rights Merrick who is just able to catch his breath. The Night Porter smiles and pats Merrick on the shoulder. NIGHT PORTER There now, that's better, i'n' it? HALLWAY Treves and Carr Gomm are on their way to the committee meeting, confident of their position. Treves is holding a folder, and Carr Gomm is looking at the photographs of Merrick. CARR As far as I can see, the only obstacle might be Broadneck. He has enormous influence over the others, very old school, not an easy man to impress. In any case, if worse does come to worse, we still have the British and Royal Homes to fall back on, don't we. Treves is silent. They stop. CARR Don't we? TREVES No, we don't. Their committees have informed me that they're unwilling to take Mr. Merrick, even if they were supplied with funds. They don't want

bath

How many times the word 'bath' appears in the text?

you? He puts the bowl down again and goes back to Merrick, who seems very upset at leaving his hiding place. TREVES Now please, John, you must do as I say. Come up from there. He starts to help Merrick up, but Merrick just presses himself farther back in the corner, still babbling. There are two raps at the door. Treves goes to it and lets Mothershead in. MOTHERSHEAD Good morning, Mr. Treves. It'll be his bath-time soon. Has he eaten? TREVES Not quite yet, Mrs. Mothershead. There seems to be some difficulty this morning. They both look at the bed. Merrick has almost disappeared under it. MOTHERSHEAD Won't come out, eh? TREVES No, he's very upset about something. MOTHERSHEAD Just being obstinate, sir. I'll handle it. She goes to Merrick and takes hold of his left wrist. MOTHERSHEAD Alright, my son, none of this fuss. Come up from there, this instant. She starts to force him up from the floor. Merrick is moaning now, still trying to get away. TREVES No! Don't pull at him like that. We don't want to frighten him more than he already is. By this time Mothershead has almost got him back on the bed. MOTHERSHEAD Honestly, sir, you must be very firm with this sort. Otherwise they'd lay about on the floor gibbering all day long. All he understands is a good smack. They help Merrick settle back on the pillow. Merrick is still making desperate, unintelligible sounds. TREVES He's had his share of "smacks", Mothershead. I expect that's what drives him under the bed. We must use patience and understanding with this man. MOTHERSHEAD Perhaps you've got the time for that, Mr. Treves, I certainly don't. I've got an entire hospital to look after, and you have your real patients. Don't waste your time with him sir, it's like talking to a wall. I don't mean to be harsh, but truthfully what can you do for him? I'll be back later for his bath. And Mr. Carr Gomm would like to see you when you have a moment. Good day sir. She exits. Treves shuts the door behind her and turns back to the bed. TREVES (to himself) What good am I to you...? He goes to the bed and sits down in front of Merrick, angered by his own seeming uselessness in the situation. TREVES ...What is my purpose? ...It's so important that I understand you. I want to help you, I want to be your doctor... (directly to Merrick) but I can't help you unless you help me, unless I know what you are feeling. I believe there's something back there, there's something you want to say, but I've got to understand you. Do you understand me? Merrick hesitates, then starts babbling again. TREVES No! You are going to talk to me! We are going to show them! We're going to show them that you're not a wall. We are going to talk! Do you understand? Nod your head if you understand me! Slowly Merrick nods yes. TREVES You do understand me! You understand. Now you're going to say it. I've got to hear how you say things. Now, very slowly, say "yes." Treves carefully mouths the word. TREVES "Yes." Merrick is still hesitant, from years of fear, but his eyes betray a growing excitement. Slowly, he tries to talk, his voice a tremulous whisper. MERRICK Yyyy... Yyye... yyyess. TREVES (grabbing Merrick's arm) Yes John! Throughout their dialogue, Merrick is still very garbled, but he no longer babbles. He makes a great effort to speak slowly, to form words the way Treves forms them, to be understood. MERRICK ...Yyes TREVES Yyyess. MERRICK Yyess. TREVES That's much better. I could understand that "yes". MERRICK (pleased) Yes! TREVES Very good! Oh yes! Now listen. I'm going to say some things to you and I want you to repeat them... um... I want you to say them back to me. Do you understand? I'm going to say some things to you and I want you to say them back to me. Do you understand? MERRICK Yes. TREVES Excellent! Now, say... "Hello" MERRICK Hello... TREVES My name is... MERRICK My... name is... TREVES John Merrick. MERRICK John... Merrick TREVES Say "Merrick". MERRICK Merrick... TREVES Say "Mmmerrick." MERRICK Mmmerrick. TREVES Say "Mmmerrick." MERRICK Mmmerrick. TREVES Well, that's alright. I understand you. Now, say the whole thing again, Hello ... MERRICK (haltingly) Hello... my name is... John Merrick. DISSOLVE TO HALLWAY Mrs. Mothershead comes out of the kitchen with a supper tray and walks down the hall, passing the open ward door. We see nurses serving patients their supper. Nora comes out of the ward with a tray which she holds tightly against her. A bowl of soup is spilling on her apron. She catches up with Mothershead. They speak as they walk. NORA Oh, Mrs. Mothershead, please forgive my behavior yesterday. I'm sorry if you're having to do extra work on my account. It was just seeing it... MOTHERSHEAD Patients here are not "its". They are either "he's" or "she's", but that's alright, Ireland. This one's going to be more work for all of us. Good God girl! Mind your broth. Mothershead continues on. Nora guiltily watches her go. ISOLATION WARD Treves and Merrick are absorbed in their work. A knock comes at the door. TREVES Come in. Mothershead enters. TREVES Why, my dear Mrs. Mothershead, how good of you to join us. Mr. Merrick, will you please introduce yourself? MERRICK (hesitantly) Hello, my name is John Merrick. MOTHERSHEAD Good Lord, Mr. Treves! TREVES (exuberantly) We've made tremendous strides today, Mothershead. He listens and repeats with great attention, and this certainly isn't easy for him. MOTHERSHEAD Parrots can do as much, Mr. Treves. It's all very nice, but I don't see the point. You know they won't let him stay here. TREVES (lowering his voice) I'm sure that if Mr. Merrick made a good impression on the hospital committee they'd see that he's the exception to their rule. Now I'm not expecting miracles. I'm not saying he'll be able to read or write, but I do think that I can get him to speak for himself. I'm going to arrange things with Carr Gomm right now. (to Merrick) That was very good, John, very good. That's all for today. We shall do some more tomorrow. Mothershead? Mrs. Mothershead sets the tray down beside Merrick. TREVES I'll see you soon. He and Mothershead exit. Merrick watches the door close. He sighs quietly, looks about, and sees the Bible on the bedside table. He picks it up and, gently runs his fingers over the cover. RECEIVING ROOM - THE LONDON There is total pandemonium in the receiving room. The room is filled with screaming men, women and children. Two drunken women have been fighting with broken bottles and are now covered with blood and cuts. The women are still hysterical, one minute they're sobbing, then in an instant screaming and intent upon fighting again. The crowd keeps them apart. Two Bobbies stand in the background making no move to intercede. To the side we see Bytes watching everything. It is still too violent a scene for the Nurses to come to the women's aide and they stand up in the front of the room waiting. Bytes makes his way along the side of the crowd waiting for a chance to get behind the Nurses and on into the hospital. Now the women begin sobbing again and things quiet some. The Nurses come forward into the crowd. Bytes moves over closer to the hallways. When the Nurses have all gone into the crowd he seizes the chance and disappears into the hospital. CUT TO: Bytes appears and walks down hospital hallway looking about. CARR GOMM'S OFFICE The door opens and Treves enters. CARR (V.O.) Ah, Treves... Treves sits in the armchair. Carr Gomm is sitting at his desk. CARR Have you contacted the British Home and the Royal Hospital? TREVES Ah, no sir. I had planned to see them in the morning. CARR Good! How is the patient? TREVES He's doing very well. In fact that's why I came to see you. I think that if I were to present Mr. Merrick to the hospital committee, then they would have a chance to see for themselves not only the extraordinary nature of the disease, but of the man as well. If the committee had a chance to speak with him, hear him say a few words for himself, I'm sure they would see him as a patient, rather than as a violation of the rules. CARR A few words? I thought he was imbecile? TREVES Well sir, perhaps I should explain... CARR I really don't think that's necessary Treves. I'm quite sure the committee will be able to make an equitable decision on the merits of the case, such as they are. TREVES I don't agree. No one can make a reasonable decision about this man's future without at least meeting him. No doctor would presume to diagnose a patient he had never met. CARR No, Treves, it's out of the question. Now if it was up to me, I'd say "Certainly, let's meet the fellow, by all means," I'm sorry, I simply can't speak for the other members of the committee. TREVES Then will you meet him, as a representative of the committee. CARR Mr. Treves, it's out of the question. I want to hear as soon as possible what the other hospitals can do. I'm sorry. HALLWAY - STAIRCASE - THE LONDON We see Treves leave Carr Gomm's office and walk toward us to the stairwell. As Treves begins down the stairs, he sees Bytes on the next landing coming up. Bytes spots him and goes toward him. BYTES I want my man back. TREVES Just a moment, how did you get in here? BYTES Never mind that, I want my man! TREVES He's still very sick. Please come downstairs with me. I'll explain the situation. BYTES (shouting) DON'T... Don't muck me about. You've had plenty of time to fix him up, and he's leaving with me, NOW. Do you understand me? Now, Mr. Treves. We had a bargain! TREVES You misunderstood. This man suffered a severe fall, if you take my meaning. He's my patient now and I must do what... BYTES Pull the other one, why don't you! We made a deal! TREVES I know what you've done to him and he's never going back to that. BYTES He's a freak! That's how they live. We're partners, him and I, business partners. You're willfully deprivin' me of my livlihood! TREVES All you do is profit from another man's misery! BYTES You think you're better 'n me? YOU wanted the freak to show all your doctor chums and make a name for yourself, you guv. So I gave him to you. On trust, in the name of science! And now I want him back. TREVES You don't own this man! BYTES I want him back! TREVES So you can beat him? So you can starve him? A dog in the street would fare better with you! BYTES I've got my rights, damn you, and I'm going to the authorities! CARR (V.O.) Well, go to the authorities... Now we see Carr Gomm standing above them, at the top of the stairs. CARR By all means do so. In fact, I'll fetch them myself. I'm quite sure they'd be very interested in your story, as well as ours. Livid, Bytes looks from Carr Gomm to Treves, at a loss for words. TREVES Now I think we really do understand one another. BYTES (venomously) Right... Right. He backs slowly down to the landing eyeing Treves and Carr Gomm. At the landing he casually turns and disappears down more stairs. Treves turns and gazes at Carr Gomm. CARR Singularly unpleasant chap... uh... I don't suppose there would be any harm in my meeting your... patient, Mr. Treves. TREVES (gratefully) Thank you very much Sir. Shall we say in a few days then? CARR Shall we say two o'clock tomorrow afternoon? TREVES (slightly taken aback) Wh... whatever is most convenient for you, sir. CARR Two o'clock then... you know Treves... It seems this acquaintance of yours has become rather more than just an acquaintance. TREVES ...Yes, Sir. They part company. We follow Treves down the stairs. TREVES (muttering) Two o'clock? Then we follow Carr Gomm to his office door. He stops short. CARR (mumbling out loud) Elephant Man? I don't want to meet an Elephant Man. HALLWAYS - THE LONDON (NIGHT) Again, the hospital is closing down for the night. Lights go off in each hallway. The staff is vacating the hospital. As the last light goes off, we hear the great iron door slam shut. TREVES' HOUSE - BEDROOM (NIGHT) Anne is at her dressing table, brushing out her hair. She is in a very flattering dressing gown, ready to turn in. We see her reflected in the mirror as well as Treves who is in his robe in the background seated at his side of their bed, deep in thought. Anne looks at Treves and smiles affectionately. ANNE (coyly) Freddie? Getting no response she renews her efforts. ANNE Freddie?... Freddie, don't look so discouraged. TREVES I shouldn't be. We made great progress today. I taught him to repeat a few basic phrases. He did rather well, too, but I had to lead him every step of the way. Though frankly, at times I was unsure of who was leading whom. ANNE What do you mean? TREVES Well, I wasn't sure whether he was parroting me because that's all he was capable of, or whether he sensed that that's all I wanted to hear, and he was trying to please me. ANNE But I thought you said that he was rather... simple? TREVES He is. I mean, I've always thought he was. I think he must be. Is he simple? Or is that just something I've wished upon him to make things simpler for myself? Anne puts down the brush and rises. ANNE Frederick, why are you so interested in this particular case? TREVES I don't know. I can't explain it. If this is an intelligent man, trapped in the body of a monster, then I'm under a moral obligation to help free that mind, free that spirit as best I can, to help him live as full and content a life as possible. But! If he's an imbecile, who's body I can't treat and who's mind I can't touch, well, then my obligation is discharged. They can put him where they will; he won't be bothered, I won't be bothered, and everyone's conscience can remain free and untroubled. And that is my dilemma... what is in his mind? Anne, sympathizing with his concerns goes to him and puts her arms around him. ANNE Perhaps you're just polishing a stone, endowing this Elephant Man with qualities he doesn't possess? TREVES (impatiently) And what qualities are those? Intelligence or stupidity? ANNE (slightly hurt) I'm sure I don't know, Freddie. She releases Treves and lies down. Treves realizes that perhaps he has been unkind. TREVES I'm sorry... I don't know either. I just don't know. ANNE Well, these things take time. TREVES I've only got until two o'clock tomorrow afternoon, when Carr Gomm meets him. Somehow, between now and then I've got to make John Merrick at least seem like an intelligent man... Why am I fooling myself? Nothing short of John delivering the Sermon on the Mount is going to sway Carr Gomm... Anne sits back up and gently places her hand over Treves' mouth. As she does so she leans forward and turns out the light. ISOLATION WARD Merrick is propped up in bed. Suddenly the door bursts open. The Night Porter, an arm around a drunken giggling tart, stands in the doorway. As soon as the Charwoman sees Merrick, she screams as does Merrick, and she wriggles free, making for the stairs. The Night Porter watches her go and then turns to Merrick laughing noisily. He then pulls the door shut with a bang. Merrick, very frightened, crawls down into his hiding place. BEDROOM (MORNING) We see Anne alone in bed, asleep. Treves is finished dressing and leaves the room. The sound of the door closing awakens Anne. She looks around for Treves. A clock reads 5:30. ISOLATION WARD Merrick's disguise hangs on the wall. MERRICK (V.O.) The Lord is my shepherd, I shall not want, he maketh me to lie down in green pastures; He leadeth me beside still waters. He restoreth my soul: He Guideth me in the paths of righteousness... TREVES Righteousness... MERRICK (V.O.) Righteousness for his namesake. WE NOW SEE TREVES AND MERRICK TREVES Very good, very good. Now, when your visitor comes today I want you to say it exactly the way you said it just now. I will introduce him to you and you will say the words you've learned. If you have any trouble with any of the words, I'll help you. I'm sure you'll be just fine. If you do as well for him as you've done for me these last two days, then I'm sure our visitor will be very pleased. Now, let's go through the whole thing again, shall we? I will say "May I introduce you to Mr. Carr Gomm." And you will say... MERRICK Hello, my name is John Merrick. I am very pleased to meet you! HALLWAY Treves and Carr Gomm are speaking together as they walk along. TREVES It's only a physical problem. He has trouble with certain sounds because of the constrictive deformity of the mouth. But he can talk, and has a great eagerness to make contact with people who will let him. So if you have any difficulty understanding what he is saying, just tell me and I'll make it clear. CARR Speaking is one thing, Treves, but can the man comprehend? Treves cannot easily answer this question. TREVES ...As I said, it's only a physical problem... but I do feel that Mr. Merrick is very flattered that you're taking the time and trouble to meet him, and he's most anxious to make a good impression, so he might seem rather nervous. CARR He needn't. I have no desire to cause him any discomfort. Did you make those inquiries we spoke about? TREVES Yes, I spoke to both the British Home and Royal Hospital for Incurables. I'm afraid that they weren't very encouraging, but they said they'd bring it up at their next committee meeting, so we should have their answers shortly. CARR Fine, fine. You know, your dedication to this patient is an inspiring thing, Treves. But you must remember that this is a hospital, and there are many patients here. Patients who can be made well, and you owe them your first consideration. Just don't become so obsessed, old man, that you begin to neglect them. Carr Gomm starts up the stairs. Treves remains behind, watching him for a moment, then follows. ISOLATION WARD Merrick is standing beside his disguise on its hook. He nervously smooths the cloak down, repositions the Bible on the bedside table and smooths the cloak again. He looks at the door, expecting it to open. It doesn't. His hands smooths the cloak over and over again. Voices can be heard outside the door. Merrick freezes. There are two raps at the door. Merrick flinches, clutching the cloak. The raps are repeated. He pulls himself together and walks to the middle of the room. He takes a deep breath and closes his eyes. MERRICK Come in. The door opens and Treves and Carr Gomm enter. Carr Gomm's eyes are rivited on Merrick, but he contains his shock. Merrick is breathing unevenly, his eyes still closed. Treves goes to him and touches his shoulder. Merrick opens his eyes and looks up at Treves. Treves turns to Carr Gomm, as does Merrick. Carr Gomm lowers his eyes. TREVES John, may I introduce you to Sir Carr Gomm. MERRICK Hello... my name is John Merrick. I am very pleased to meet you. Carr Gomm, still shaken, instinctively offers his hand. CARR I'm very... pleased to meet you. Before Carr Gomm can withdraw his hand, Merrick grasps it with his left hand. There is an uncomfortable silence. Merrick releases it. Carr Gomn, nervously clears his throat. CARR How are you feeling today? MERRICK I feel much better. Thank you for asking. And you? CARR I'm feeling very fit, thank you. How is your bronchitis? MERRICK I feel much better. Thank you. CARR Are you comfortable here? MERRICK Everyone has been very kind. I am extremely grateful. TREVES Mr. Merrick likes the food here. Don't you John? MERRICK Oh yes! It is much better than what I am used to. CARR Oh yes? TREVES (after a pause) And what was that, John? MERRICK Potatoes... There is another agonizing silence. TREVES (to Carr Gomm) ...Yes potatoes... but... MERRICK But the variety of food here is very pleasing... I commend you. CARR (after a pause) I understand that you were beaten? Merrick is at a loss. This is not part of the expected scenario. DIERRICK Oh no, everyone has been very kind. CARR No, I meant in your former situation. Merrick doesn't seem to understand. MERRICK I'm feeling much better now... Carr Gomm stares levelly at Treves for a moment, then asks Merrick: CARR Tell me, how do you like Mr. Treves? As a teacher? Treves stiffens. MERRICK ...I... everyone has been very kind to me. CARR Of course. How long did you and Mr. Treves prepare for this interview? Merrick looks at Treves for guidance, but Treves cannot look him in the eye. MERRICK ...everyone has been very kind. CARR Yes, of course... Well, it's been a pleasure meeting you, Mr. Merrick. Good day. TREVES (to John) Thank you, John. You did very well. Treves and Carr Gomm go out the door onto the landing. Merrick sees his chance escaping him and tries to recapture their attention. MERRICK (his voice is gaining strength) The Lord is my shepherd, I shall not want. He maketh me to lie down in green pastures... (he continues through the following dialogue) Treves and Carr Gomm are alone on the landing, speaking quietly. CARR It was a nice try, Treves, but the man is so obviously mouthing your words. TREVES Yes, I'm very sorry to have wasted your time, sir. I just felt that I had to do anything I could to protect him. CARR I'm sorry too. He simply doesn't belong here. He's be much happier somewhere else, where he could be constantly looked after. Believe me, Frederick, it's better that it worked out this way. Good day. Merrick has come to the end of what Treves taught him to say. He makes one last, desperate attempt to be heard. Treves, disheartened, stands on the landing as Carr Gomm starts down the stairs. MERRICK (V.O.) (now full voice) Yea, though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I will fear no evil, for Thou art with me; Thy rod and Thy staff, they comfort me... Treves is staring, open-mouthed, back into the room. Carr Gomm looks up at him. CARR What is it, Treves? MERRICK (V.O.) Thou preparest a table before me in the presence of mine enemies, Thou anointest my head with oil... TREVES I didn't teach him that part! Treves rushes back into the room, followed by Carr Gomm. MERRICK My cup runneth over. Surely goodness and loving kindness shall follow me all the days of my life, and I shall dwell in the house of the Lord forever. There is a long silence as all three men stare at each other. TREVES How did you, know the rest? I never taught you the rest of it. CARR I don't understand. TREVES Tell me, John, how did you know the rest of the 23rd Psalm? MERRICK (hesitantly) I... I used to read the Bible every day. I know it very well. The Bible, and the Book of Common Prayer. The 23rd Psalm is very beautiful. ISOLATION WARD A few minutes later. We hear voices inside the room. CARR (V.O.) It was a great pleasure to meet you, Mr. Merrick. MERRICK I am very pleased to meet you. CARR I hope we can talk together again sometime. Good day. The door opens and Carr Gomm and Treves come out. TREVES (to Merrick) I'll be right back. He closes the door. CARR I want to see you in my office as soon as you're through up here. We've a good deal to discuss. He starts down the stairs. TREVES Of course, sir. Thank you, thank you very much. Carr Gomm stops on the stairs. CARR Treves. Well done. TREVES Not me, sir. Mr. Merrick. He succeeded in spite of my shortsightedness. ISOLATION WARD Merrick is on the bed, propped up by pillows. The door opens. Treves comes in, shuts the door and leans against it. They look at each other for a moment. TREVES Why did you let me go on like that, teaching you what you already knew? Why didn't you tell me you could read? MERRICK You did not ask me. TREVES I never thought to ask. How can you ever forgive me? MERRICK Oh, no do not say that. You have been so kind to me. I was afraid to say too much. People always want me to be quiet. You wanted me to speak, but I was afraid. Forgive me. TREVES We do have a lot to talk about, don't we? CARR GOMM'S OFFICE Carr Gomm is seated at the window, looking out silently. There is a knock at the door and Treves enters. He quietly closes the door and walks to the window. Carr Gomm never moves. CARR Can you imagine what his life has been like? TREVES Yes, I think I can. CARR No you can't. You can't begin to know, no one can. Carr Gomm suddenly stands and faces Treves. CARR You are quite right, Treves, this is an exceptional case. And I quite agree that the committee should see Mr. Merrick. TREVES I could easily arrange... CARR No, not that way. Broadneck and the others don't like to deal with patients directly. It makes them queasy... Do you have any photographs of Mr. Merrick? TREVES Well, yes. CARR Excellent. We shall present them, along with the other particulars of the case to the committee. I want them to see, exactly, how horribly his body has been affected. You and I shall vouch for his inner qualities. TREVES Do you think they'll go along with us? CARR Of course they will. They're reasonable men. ISOLATION WARD Merrick is in bed, very tired. It's been an exhausting day. Suddenly the door opens and Mothershead comes into the room. Merrick looks up at her very apprehensively. She walks over to the bed, picks up the Bible from the table, opens it and hands it to Merrick. MOTHERSHEAD Read it. Merrick looks down at the Bible. MERRICK Thou heardest my voice; hide not thine ear at my breathing, At my cry. Mothershead backs slowly to the door, deeply disturbed. She stares at Merrick for a moment. MOTHERSHEAD Credit where credit is due. You'll have the paper every morning at breakfast. She quickly turns and exits. Merrick looks down at the Bible. It is open to "Lamentations". HALLWAY - THE LONDON (NIGHT) As before the lights are going off in one hallway after another. The hallways are empty, dark and silent. We hear the great iron door close with a bang. ISOLATION WARD (NIGHT) Merrick is in his bed as always. He holds the portrait of the beautiful woman, gazing at it longingly. He hears a door close far away in the silence of the hospital. Suddenly we hear the heavy footfalls of the Night Porter's boots. As they get louder and louder we move slowly closer to Merrick's face. The sound is very close now, and Merrick's eyes are visibly agitated. Finally, the door bursts open and the Night Porter is standing there. He stares malevolently at Merrick for a long moment and then walks to him menacingly. NIGHT PORTER I hear you have some trouble sleepin'... He grabs Merrick fiercely by the hair and jerks his head back. Merrick immediately starts to wheeze and gasp. NIGHT PORTER Head's too heavy, eh? He pulls Merrick all the way down onto the bed, so that he is prone, struggling for breath. NIGHT PORTER And I heard a nasty rumor about you; I heard you can talk but you can't, can you... can you... can you?... MERRICK (struggling) Noooo! The Night Porter is as first surprised, and then pleased at the desperate sound. NIGHT PORTER No... No you can't! One word about me out of that stinking cakehole... Just ONE word, and you'll have no trouble at sleepin'... no trouble at all. You understand me? Do you!! MERRICK (croaking) Yyyesss. Satisfied, the Night Porter rights Merrick who is just able to catch his breath. The Night Porter smiles and pats Merrick on the shoulder. NIGHT PORTER There now, that's better, i'n' it? HALLWAY Treves and Carr Gomm are on their way to the committee meeting, confident of their position. Treves is holding a folder, and Carr Gomm is looking at the photographs of Merrick. CARR As far as I can see, the only obstacle might be Broadneck. He has enormous influence over the others, very old school, not an easy man to impress. In any case, if worse does come to worse, we still have the British and Royal Homes to fall back on, don't we. Treves is silent. They stop. CARR Don't we? TREVES No, we don't. Their committees have informed me that they're unwilling to take Mr. Merrick, even if they were supplied with funds. They don't want

signal

How many times the word 'signal' appears in the text?

you? He puts the bowl down again and goes back to Merrick, who seems very upset at leaving his hiding place. TREVES Now please, John, you must do as I say. Come up from there. He starts to help Merrick up, but Merrick just presses himself farther back in the corner, still babbling. There are two raps at the door. Treves goes to it and lets Mothershead in. MOTHERSHEAD Good morning, Mr. Treves. It'll be his bath-time soon. Has he eaten? TREVES Not quite yet, Mrs. Mothershead. There seems to be some difficulty this morning. They both look at the bed. Merrick has almost disappeared under it. MOTHERSHEAD Won't come out, eh? TREVES No, he's very upset about something. MOTHERSHEAD Just being obstinate, sir. I'll handle it. She goes to Merrick and takes hold of his left wrist. MOTHERSHEAD Alright, my son, none of this fuss. Come up from there, this instant. She starts to force him up from the floor. Merrick is moaning now, still trying to get away. TREVES No! Don't pull at him like that. We don't want to frighten him more than he already is. By this time Mothershead has almost got him back on the bed. MOTHERSHEAD Honestly, sir, you must be very firm with this sort. Otherwise they'd lay about on the floor gibbering all day long. All he understands is a good smack. They help Merrick settle back on the pillow. Merrick is still making desperate, unintelligible sounds. TREVES He's had his share of "smacks", Mothershead. I expect that's what drives him under the bed. We must use patience and understanding with this man. MOTHERSHEAD Perhaps you've got the time for that, Mr. Treves, I certainly don't. I've got an entire hospital to look after, and you have your real patients. Don't waste your time with him sir, it's like talking to a wall. I don't mean to be harsh, but truthfully what can you do for him? I'll be back later for his bath. And Mr. Carr Gomm would like to see you when you have a moment. Good day sir. She exits. Treves shuts the door behind her and turns back to the bed. TREVES (to himself) What good am I to you...? He goes to the bed and sits down in front of Merrick, angered by his own seeming uselessness in the situation. TREVES ...What is my purpose? ...It's so important that I understand you. I want to help you, I want to be your doctor... (directly to Merrick) but I can't help you unless you help me, unless I know what you are feeling. I believe there's something back there, there's something you want to say, but I've got to understand you. Do you understand me? Merrick hesitates, then starts babbling again. TREVES No! You are going to talk to me! We are going to show them! We're going to show them that you're not a wall. We are going to talk! Do you understand? Nod your head if you understand me! Slowly Merrick nods yes. TREVES You do understand me! You understand. Now you're going to say it. I've got to hear how you say things. Now, very slowly, say "yes." Treves carefully mouths the word. TREVES "Yes." Merrick is still hesitant, from years of fear, but his eyes betray a growing excitement. Slowly, he tries to talk, his voice a tremulous whisper. MERRICK Yyyy... Yyye... yyyess. TREVES (grabbing Merrick's arm) Yes John! Throughout their dialogue, Merrick is still very garbled, but he no longer babbles. He makes a great effort to speak slowly, to form words the way Treves forms them, to be understood. MERRICK ...Yyes TREVES Yyyess. MERRICK Yyess. TREVES That's much better. I could understand that "yes". MERRICK (pleased) Yes! TREVES Very good! Oh yes! Now listen. I'm going to say some things to you and I want you to repeat them... um... I want you to say them back to me. Do you understand? I'm going to say some things to you and I want you to say them back to me. Do you understand? MERRICK Yes. TREVES Excellent! Now, say... "Hello" MERRICK Hello... TREVES My name is... MERRICK My... name is... TREVES John Merrick. MERRICK John... Merrick TREVES Say "Merrick". MERRICK Merrick... TREVES Say "Mmmerrick." MERRICK Mmmerrick. TREVES Say "Mmmerrick." MERRICK Mmmerrick. TREVES Well, that's alright. I understand you. Now, say the whole thing again, Hello ... MERRICK (haltingly) Hello... my name is... John Merrick. DISSOLVE TO HALLWAY Mrs. Mothershead comes out of the kitchen with a supper tray and walks down the hall, passing the open ward door. We see nurses serving patients their supper. Nora comes out of the ward with a tray which she holds tightly against her. A bowl of soup is spilling on her apron. She catches up with Mothershead. They speak as they walk. NORA Oh, Mrs. Mothershead, please forgive my behavior yesterday. I'm sorry if you're having to do extra work on my account. It was just seeing it... MOTHERSHEAD Patients here are not "its". They are either "he's" or "she's", but that's alright, Ireland. This one's going to be more work for all of us. Good God girl! Mind your broth. Mothershead continues on. Nora guiltily watches her go. ISOLATION WARD Treves and Merrick are absorbed in their work. A knock comes at the door. TREVES Come in. Mothershead enters. TREVES Why, my dear Mrs. Mothershead, how good of you to join us. Mr. Merrick, will you please introduce yourself? MERRICK (hesitantly) Hello, my name is John Merrick. MOTHERSHEAD Good Lord, Mr. Treves! TREVES (exuberantly) We've made tremendous strides today, Mothershead. He listens and repeats with great attention, and this certainly isn't easy for him. MOTHERSHEAD Parrots can do as much, Mr. Treves. It's all very nice, but I don't see the point. You know they won't let him stay here. TREVES (lowering his voice) I'm sure that if Mr. Merrick made a good impression on the hospital committee they'd see that he's the exception to their rule. Now I'm not expecting miracles. I'm not saying he'll be able to read or write, but I do think that I can get him to speak for himself. I'm going to arrange things with Carr Gomm right now. (to Merrick) That was very good, John, very good. That's all for today. We shall do some more tomorrow. Mothershead? Mrs. Mothershead sets the tray down beside Merrick. TREVES I'll see you soon. He and Mothershead exit. Merrick watches the door close. He sighs quietly, looks about, and sees the Bible on the bedside table. He picks it up and, gently runs his fingers over the cover. RECEIVING ROOM - THE LONDON There is total pandemonium in the receiving room. The room is filled with screaming men, women and children. Two drunken women have been fighting with broken bottles and are now covered with blood and cuts. The women are still hysterical, one minute they're sobbing, then in an instant screaming and intent upon fighting again. The crowd keeps them apart. Two Bobbies stand in the background making no move to intercede. To the side we see Bytes watching everything. It is still too violent a scene for the Nurses to come to the women's aide and they stand up in the front of the room waiting. Bytes makes his way along the side of the crowd waiting for a chance to get behind the Nurses and on into the hospital. Now the women begin sobbing again and things quiet some. The Nurses come forward into the crowd. Bytes moves over closer to the hallways. When the Nurses have all gone into the crowd he seizes the chance and disappears into the hospital. CUT TO: Bytes appears and walks down hospital hallway looking about. CARR GOMM'S OFFICE The door opens and Treves enters. CARR (V.O.) Ah, Treves... Treves sits in the armchair. Carr Gomm is sitting at his desk. CARR Have you contacted the British Home and the Royal Hospital? TREVES Ah, no sir. I had planned to see them in the morning. CARR Good! How is the patient? TREVES He's doing very well. In fact that's why I came to see you. I think that if I were to present Mr. Merrick to the hospital committee, then they would have a chance to see for themselves not only the extraordinary nature of the disease, but of the man as well. If the committee had a chance to speak with him, hear him say a few words for himself, I'm sure they would see him as a patient, rather than as a violation of the rules. CARR A few words? I thought he was imbecile? TREVES Well sir, perhaps I should explain... CARR I really don't think that's necessary Treves. I'm quite sure the committee will be able to make an equitable decision on the merits of the case, such as they are. TREVES I don't agree. No one can make a reasonable decision about this man's future without at least meeting him. No doctor would presume to diagnose a patient he had never met. CARR No, Treves, it's out of the question. Now if it was up to me, I'd say "Certainly, let's meet the fellow, by all means," I'm sorry, I simply can't speak for the other members of the committee. TREVES Then will you meet him, as a representative of the committee. CARR Mr. Treves, it's out of the question. I want to hear as soon as possible what the other hospitals can do. I'm sorry. HALLWAY - STAIRCASE - THE LONDON We see Treves leave Carr Gomm's office and walk toward us to the stairwell. As Treves begins down the stairs, he sees Bytes on the next landing coming up. Bytes spots him and goes toward him. BYTES I want my man back. TREVES Just a moment, how did you get in here? BYTES Never mind that, I want my man! TREVES He's still very sick. Please come downstairs with me. I'll explain the situation. BYTES (shouting) DON'T... Don't muck me about. You've had plenty of time to fix him up, and he's leaving with me, NOW. Do you understand me? Now, Mr. Treves. We had a bargain! TREVES You misunderstood. This man suffered a severe fall, if you take my meaning. He's my patient now and I must do what... BYTES Pull the other one, why don't you! We made a deal! TREVES I know what you've done to him and he's never going back to that. BYTES He's a freak! That's how they live. We're partners, him and I, business partners. You're willfully deprivin' me of my livlihood! TREVES All you do is profit from another man's misery! BYTES You think you're better 'n me? YOU wanted the freak to show all your doctor chums and make a name for yourself, you guv. So I gave him to you. On trust, in the name of science! And now I want him back. TREVES You don't own this man! BYTES I want him back! TREVES So you can beat him? So you can starve him? A dog in the street would fare better with you! BYTES I've got my rights, damn you, and I'm going to the authorities! CARR (V.O.) Well, go to the authorities... Now we see Carr Gomm standing above them, at the top of the stairs. CARR By all means do so. In fact, I'll fetch them myself. I'm quite sure they'd be very interested in your story, as well as ours. Livid, Bytes looks from Carr Gomm to Treves, at a loss for words. TREVES Now I think we really do understand one another. BYTES (venomously) Right... Right. He backs slowly down to the landing eyeing Treves and Carr Gomm. At the landing he casually turns and disappears down more stairs. Treves turns and gazes at Carr Gomm. CARR Singularly unpleasant chap... uh... I don't suppose there would be any harm in my meeting your... patient, Mr. Treves. TREVES (gratefully) Thank you very much Sir. Shall we say in a few days then? CARR Shall we say two o'clock tomorrow afternoon? TREVES (slightly taken aback) Wh... whatever is most convenient for you, sir. CARR Two o'clock then... you know Treves... It seems this acquaintance of yours has become rather more than just an acquaintance. TREVES ...Yes, Sir. They part company. We follow Treves down the stairs. TREVES (muttering) Two o'clock? Then we follow Carr Gomm to his office door. He stops short. CARR (mumbling out loud) Elephant Man? I don't want to meet an Elephant Man. HALLWAYS - THE LONDON (NIGHT) Again, the hospital is closing down for the night. Lights go off in each hallway. The staff is vacating the hospital. As the last light goes off, we hear the great iron door slam shut. TREVES' HOUSE - BEDROOM (NIGHT) Anne is at her dressing table, brushing out her hair. She is in a very flattering dressing gown, ready to turn in. We see her reflected in the mirror as well as Treves who is in his robe in the background seated at his side of their bed, deep in thought. Anne looks at Treves and smiles affectionately. ANNE (coyly) Freddie? Getting no response she renews her efforts. ANNE Freddie?... Freddie, don't look so discouraged. TREVES I shouldn't be. We made great progress today. I taught him to repeat a few basic phrases. He did rather well, too, but I had to lead him every step of the way. Though frankly, at times I was unsure of who was leading whom. ANNE What do you mean? TREVES Well, I wasn't sure whether he was parroting me because that's all he was capable of, or whether he sensed that that's all I wanted to hear, and he was trying to please me. ANNE But I thought you said that he was rather... simple? TREVES He is. I mean, I've always thought he was. I think he must be. Is he simple? Or is that just something I've wished upon him to make things simpler for myself? Anne puts down the brush and rises. ANNE Frederick, why are you so interested in this particular case? TREVES I don't know. I can't explain it. If this is an intelligent man, trapped in the body of a monster, then I'm under a moral obligation to help free that mind, free that spirit as best I can, to help him live as full and content a life as possible. But! If he's an imbecile, who's body I can't treat and who's mind I can't touch, well, then my obligation is discharged. They can put him where they will; he won't be bothered, I won't be bothered, and everyone's conscience can remain free and untroubled. And that is my dilemma... what is in his mind? Anne, sympathizing with his concerns goes to him and puts her arms around him. ANNE Perhaps you're just polishing a stone, endowing this Elephant Man with qualities he doesn't possess? TREVES (impatiently) And what qualities are those? Intelligence or stupidity? ANNE (slightly hurt) I'm sure I don't know, Freddie. She releases Treves and lies down. Treves realizes that perhaps he has been unkind. TREVES I'm sorry... I don't know either. I just don't know. ANNE Well, these things take time. TREVES I've only got until two o'clock tomorrow afternoon, when Carr Gomm meets him. Somehow, between now and then I've got to make John Merrick at least seem like an intelligent man... Why am I fooling myself? Nothing short of John delivering the Sermon on the Mount is going to sway Carr Gomm... Anne sits back up and gently places her hand over Treves' mouth. As she does so she leans forward and turns out the light. ISOLATION WARD Merrick is propped up in bed. Suddenly the door bursts open. The Night Porter, an arm around a drunken giggling tart, stands in the doorway. As soon as the Charwoman sees Merrick, she screams as does Merrick, and she wriggles free, making for the stairs. The Night Porter watches her go and then turns to Merrick laughing noisily. He then pulls the door shut with a bang. Merrick, very frightened, crawls down into his hiding place. BEDROOM (MORNING) We see Anne alone in bed, asleep. Treves is finished dressing and leaves the room. The sound of the door closing awakens Anne. She looks around for Treves. A clock reads 5:30. ISOLATION WARD Merrick's disguise hangs on the wall. MERRICK (V.O.) The Lord is my shepherd, I shall not want, he maketh me to lie down in green pastures; He leadeth me beside still waters. He restoreth my soul: He Guideth me in the paths of righteousness... TREVES Righteousness... MERRICK (V.O.) Righteousness for his namesake. WE NOW SEE TREVES AND MERRICK TREVES Very good, very good. Now, when your visitor comes today I want you to say it exactly the way you said it just now. I will introduce him to you and you will say the words you've learned. If you have any trouble with any of the words, I'll help you. I'm sure you'll be just fine. If you do as well for him as you've done for me these last two days, then I'm sure our visitor will be very pleased. Now, let's go through the whole thing again, shall we? I will say "May I introduce you to Mr. Carr Gomm." And you will say... MERRICK Hello, my name is John Merrick. I am very pleased to meet you! HALLWAY Treves and Carr Gomm are speaking together as they walk along. TREVES It's only a physical problem. He has trouble with certain sounds because of the constrictive deformity of the mouth. But he can talk, and has a great eagerness to make contact with people who will let him. So if you have any difficulty understanding what he is saying, just tell me and I'll make it clear. CARR Speaking is one thing, Treves, but can the man comprehend? Treves cannot easily answer this question. TREVES ...As I said, it's only a physical problem... but I do feel that Mr. Merrick is very flattered that you're taking the time and trouble to meet him, and he's most anxious to make a good impression, so he might seem rather nervous. CARR He needn't. I have no desire to cause him any discomfort. Did you make those inquiries we spoke about? TREVES Yes, I spoke to both the British Home and Royal Hospital for Incurables. I'm afraid that they weren't very encouraging, but they said they'd bring it up at their next committee meeting, so we should have their answers shortly. CARR Fine, fine. You know, your dedication to this patient is an inspiring thing, Treves. But you must remember that this is a hospital, and there are many patients here. Patients who can be made well, and you owe them your first consideration. Just don't become so obsessed, old man, that you begin to neglect them. Carr Gomm starts up the stairs. Treves remains behind, watching him for a moment, then follows. ISOLATION WARD Merrick is standing beside his disguise on its hook. He nervously smooths the cloak down, repositions the Bible on the bedside table and smooths the cloak again. He looks at the door, expecting it to open. It doesn't. His hands smooths the cloak over and over again. Voices can be heard outside the door. Merrick freezes. There are two raps at the door. Merrick flinches, clutching the cloak. The raps are repeated. He pulls himself together and walks to the middle of the room. He takes a deep breath and closes his eyes. MERRICK Come in. The door opens and Treves and Carr Gomm enter. Carr Gomm's eyes are rivited on Merrick, but he contains his shock. Merrick is breathing unevenly, his eyes still closed. Treves goes to him and touches his shoulder. Merrick opens his eyes and looks up at Treves. Treves turns to Carr Gomm, as does Merrick. Carr Gomm lowers his eyes. TREVES John, may I introduce you to Sir Carr Gomm. MERRICK Hello... my name is John Merrick. I am very pleased to meet you. Carr Gomm, still shaken, instinctively offers his hand. CARR I'm very... pleased to meet you. Before Carr Gomm can withdraw his hand, Merrick grasps it with his left hand. There is an uncomfortable silence. Merrick releases it. Carr Gomn, nervously clears his throat. CARR How are you feeling today? MERRICK I feel much better. Thank you for asking. And you? CARR I'm feeling very fit, thank you. How is your bronchitis? MERRICK I feel much better. Thank you. CARR Are you comfortable here? MERRICK Everyone has been very kind. I am extremely grateful. TREVES Mr. Merrick likes the food here. Don't you John? MERRICK Oh yes! It is much better than what I am used to. CARR Oh yes? TREVES (after a pause) And what was that, John? MERRICK Potatoes... There is another agonizing silence. TREVES (to Carr Gomm) ...Yes potatoes... but... MERRICK But the variety of food here is very pleasing... I commend you. CARR (after a pause) I understand that you were beaten? Merrick is at a loss. This is not part of the expected scenario. DIERRICK Oh no, everyone has been very kind. CARR No, I meant in your former situation. Merrick doesn't seem to understand. MERRICK I'm feeling much better now... Carr Gomm stares levelly at Treves for a moment, then asks Merrick: CARR Tell me, how do you like Mr. Treves? As a teacher? Treves stiffens. MERRICK ...I... everyone has been very kind to me. CARR Of course. How long did you and Mr. Treves prepare for this interview? Merrick looks at Treves for guidance, but Treves cannot look him in the eye. MERRICK ...everyone has been very kind. CARR Yes, of course... Well, it's been a pleasure meeting you, Mr. Merrick. Good day. TREVES (to John) Thank you, John. You did very well. Treves and Carr Gomm go out the door onto the landing. Merrick sees his chance escaping him and tries to recapture their attention. MERRICK (his voice is gaining strength) The Lord is my shepherd, I shall not want. He maketh me to lie down in green pastures... (he continues through the following dialogue) Treves and Carr Gomm are alone on the landing, speaking quietly. CARR It was a nice try, Treves, but the man is so obviously mouthing your words. TREVES Yes, I'm very sorry to have wasted your time, sir. I just felt that I had to do anything I could to protect him. CARR I'm sorry too. He simply doesn't belong here. He's be much happier somewhere else, where he could be constantly looked after. Believe me, Frederick, it's better that it worked out this way. Good day. Merrick has come to the end of what Treves taught him to say. He makes one last, desperate attempt to be heard. Treves, disheartened, stands on the landing as Carr Gomm starts down the stairs. MERRICK (V.O.) (now full voice) Yea, though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I will fear no evil, for Thou art with me; Thy rod and Thy staff, they comfort me... Treves is staring, open-mouthed, back into the room. Carr Gomm looks up at him. CARR What is it, Treves? MERRICK (V.O.) Thou preparest a table before me in the presence of mine enemies, Thou anointest my head with oil... TREVES I didn't teach him that part! Treves rushes back into the room, followed by Carr Gomm. MERRICK My cup runneth over. Surely goodness and loving kindness shall follow me all the days of my life, and I shall dwell in the house of the Lord forever. There is a long silence as all three men stare at each other. TREVES How did you, know the rest? I never taught you the rest of it. CARR I don't understand. TREVES Tell me, John, how did you know the rest of the 23rd Psalm? MERRICK (hesitantly) I... I used to read the Bible every day. I know it very well. The Bible, and the Book of Common Prayer. The 23rd Psalm is very beautiful. ISOLATION WARD A few minutes later. We hear voices inside the room. CARR (V.O.) It was a great pleasure to meet you, Mr. Merrick. MERRICK I am very pleased to meet you. CARR I hope we can talk together again sometime. Good day. The door opens and Carr Gomm and Treves come out. TREVES (to Merrick) I'll be right back. He closes the door. CARR I want to see you in my office as soon as you're through up here. We've a good deal to discuss. He starts down the stairs. TREVES Of course, sir. Thank you, thank you very much. Carr Gomm stops on the stairs. CARR Treves. Well done. TREVES Not me, sir. Mr. Merrick. He succeeded in spite of my shortsightedness. ISOLATION WARD Merrick is on the bed, propped up by pillows. The door opens. Treves comes in, shuts the door and leans against it. They look at each other for a moment. TREVES Why did you let me go on like that, teaching you what you already knew? Why didn't you tell me you could read? MERRICK You did not ask me. TREVES I never thought to ask. How can you ever forgive me? MERRICK Oh, no do not say that. You have been so kind to me. I was afraid to say too much. People always want me to be quiet. You wanted me to speak, but I was afraid. Forgive me. TREVES We do have a lot to talk about, don't we? CARR GOMM'S OFFICE Carr Gomm is seated at the window, looking out silently. There is a knock at the door and Treves enters. He quietly closes the door and walks to the window. Carr Gomm never moves. CARR Can you imagine what his life has been like? TREVES Yes, I think I can. CARR No you can't. You can't begin to know, no one can. Carr Gomm suddenly stands and faces Treves. CARR You are quite right, Treves, this is an exceptional case. And I quite agree that the committee should see Mr. Merrick. TREVES I could easily arrange... CARR No, not that way. Broadneck and the others don't like to deal with patients directly. It makes them queasy... Do you have any photographs of Mr. Merrick? TREVES Well, yes. CARR Excellent. We shall present them, along with the other particulars of the case to the committee. I want them to see, exactly, how horribly his body has been affected. You and I shall vouch for his inner qualities. TREVES Do you think they'll go along with us? CARR Of course they will. They're reasonable men. ISOLATION WARD Merrick is in bed, very tired. It's been an exhausting day. Suddenly the door opens and Mothershead comes into the room. Merrick looks up at her very apprehensively. She walks over to the bed, picks up the Bible from the table, opens it and hands it to Merrick. MOTHERSHEAD Read it. Merrick looks down at the Bible. MERRICK Thou heardest my voice; hide not thine ear at my breathing, At my cry. Mothershead backs slowly to the door, deeply disturbed. She stares at Merrick for a moment. MOTHERSHEAD Credit where credit is due. You'll have the paper every morning at breakfast. She quickly turns and exits. Merrick looks down at the Bible. It is open to "Lamentations". HALLWAY - THE LONDON (NIGHT) As before the lights are going off in one hallway after another. The hallways are empty, dark and silent. We hear the great iron door close with a bang. ISOLATION WARD (NIGHT) Merrick is in his bed as always. He holds the portrait of the beautiful woman, gazing at it longingly. He hears a door close far away in the silence of the hospital. Suddenly we hear the heavy footfalls of the Night Porter's boots. As they get louder and louder we move slowly closer to Merrick's face. The sound is very close now, and Merrick's eyes are visibly agitated. Finally, the door bursts open and the Night Porter is standing there. He stares malevolently at Merrick for a long moment and then walks to him menacingly. NIGHT PORTER I hear you have some trouble sleepin'... He grabs Merrick fiercely by the hair and jerks his head back. Merrick immediately starts to wheeze and gasp. NIGHT PORTER Head's too heavy, eh? He pulls Merrick all the way down onto the bed, so that he is prone, struggling for breath. NIGHT PORTER And I heard a nasty rumor about you; I heard you can talk but you can't, can you... can you... can you?... MERRICK (struggling) Noooo! The Night Porter is as first surprised, and then pleased at the desperate sound. NIGHT PORTER No... No you can't! One word about me out of that stinking cakehole... Just ONE word, and you'll have no trouble at sleepin'... no trouble at all. You understand me? Do you!! MERRICK (croaking) Yyyesss. Satisfied, the Night Porter rights Merrick who is just able to catch his breath. The Night Porter smiles and pats Merrick on the shoulder. NIGHT PORTER There now, that's better, i'n' it? HALLWAY Treves and Carr Gomm are on their way to the committee meeting, confident of their position. Treves is holding a folder, and Carr Gomm is looking at the photographs of Merrick. CARR As far as I can see, the only obstacle might be Broadneck. He has enormous influence over the others, very old school, not an easy man to impress. In any case, if worse does come to worse, we still have the British and Royal Homes to fall back on, don't we. Treves is silent. They stop. CARR Don't we? TREVES No, we don't. Their committees have informed me that they're unwilling to take Mr. Merrick, even if they were supplied with funds. They don't want

tray

How many times the word 'tray' appears in the text?

you? He puts the bowl down again and goes back to Merrick, who seems very upset at leaving his hiding place. TREVES Now please, John, you must do as I say. Come up from there. He starts to help Merrick up, but Merrick just presses himself farther back in the corner, still babbling. There are two raps at the door. Treves goes to it and lets Mothershead in. MOTHERSHEAD Good morning, Mr. Treves. It'll be his bath-time soon. Has he eaten? TREVES Not quite yet, Mrs. Mothershead. There seems to be some difficulty this morning. They both look at the bed. Merrick has almost disappeared under it. MOTHERSHEAD Won't come out, eh? TREVES No, he's very upset about something. MOTHERSHEAD Just being obstinate, sir. I'll handle it. She goes to Merrick and takes hold of his left wrist. MOTHERSHEAD Alright, my son, none of this fuss. Come up from there, this instant. She starts to force him up from the floor. Merrick is moaning now, still trying to get away. TREVES No! Don't pull at him like that. We don't want to frighten him more than he already is. By this time Mothershead has almost got him back on the bed. MOTHERSHEAD Honestly, sir, you must be very firm with this sort. Otherwise they'd lay about on the floor gibbering all day long. All he understands is a good smack. They help Merrick settle back on the pillow. Merrick is still making desperate, unintelligible sounds. TREVES He's had his share of "smacks", Mothershead. I expect that's what drives him under the bed. We must use patience and understanding with this man. MOTHERSHEAD Perhaps you've got the time for that, Mr. Treves, I certainly don't. I've got an entire hospital to look after, and you have your real patients. Don't waste your time with him sir, it's like talking to a wall. I don't mean to be harsh, but truthfully what can you do for him? I'll be back later for his bath. And Mr. Carr Gomm would like to see you when you have a moment. Good day sir. She exits. Treves shuts the door behind her and turns back to the bed. TREVES (to himself) What good am I to you...? He goes to the bed and sits down in front of Merrick, angered by his own seeming uselessness in the situation. TREVES ...What is my purpose? ...It's so important that I understand you. I want to help you, I want to be your doctor... (directly to Merrick) but I can't help you unless you help me, unless I know what you are feeling. I believe there's something back there, there's something you want to say, but I've got to understand you. Do you understand me? Merrick hesitates, then starts babbling again. TREVES No! You are going to talk to me! We are going to show them! We're going to show them that you're not a wall. We are going to talk! Do you understand? Nod your head if you understand me! Slowly Merrick nods yes. TREVES You do understand me! You understand. Now you're going to say it. I've got to hear how you say things. Now, very slowly, say "yes." Treves carefully mouths the word. TREVES "Yes." Merrick is still hesitant, from years of fear, but his eyes betray a growing excitement. Slowly, he tries to talk, his voice a tremulous whisper. MERRICK Yyyy... Yyye... yyyess. TREVES (grabbing Merrick's arm) Yes John! Throughout their dialogue, Merrick is still very garbled, but he no longer babbles. He makes a great effort to speak slowly, to form words the way Treves forms them, to be understood. MERRICK ...Yyes TREVES Yyyess. MERRICK Yyess. TREVES That's much better. I could understand that "yes". MERRICK (pleased) Yes! TREVES Very good! Oh yes! Now listen. I'm going to say some things to you and I want you to repeat them... um... I want you to say them back to me. Do you understand? I'm going to say some things to you and I want you to say them back to me. Do you understand? MERRICK Yes. TREVES Excellent! Now, say... "Hello" MERRICK Hello... TREVES My name is... MERRICK My... name is... TREVES John Merrick. MERRICK John... Merrick TREVES Say "Merrick". MERRICK Merrick... TREVES Say "Mmmerrick." MERRICK Mmmerrick. TREVES Say "Mmmerrick." MERRICK Mmmerrick. TREVES Well, that's alright. I understand you. Now, say the whole thing again, Hello ... MERRICK (haltingly) Hello... my name is... John Merrick. DISSOLVE TO HALLWAY Mrs. Mothershead comes out of the kitchen with a supper tray and walks down the hall, passing the open ward door. We see nurses serving patients their supper. Nora comes out of the ward with a tray which she holds tightly against her. A bowl of soup is spilling on her apron. She catches up with Mothershead. They speak as they walk. NORA Oh, Mrs. Mothershead, please forgive my behavior yesterday. I'm sorry if you're having to do extra work on my account. It was just seeing it... MOTHERSHEAD Patients here are not "its". They are either "he's" or "she's", but that's alright, Ireland. This one's going to be more work for all of us. Good God girl! Mind your broth. Mothershead continues on. Nora guiltily watches her go. ISOLATION WARD Treves and Merrick are absorbed in their work. A knock comes at the door. TREVES Come in. Mothershead enters. TREVES Why, my dear Mrs. Mothershead, how good of you to join us. Mr. Merrick, will you please introduce yourself? MERRICK (hesitantly) Hello, my name is John Merrick. MOTHERSHEAD Good Lord, Mr. Treves! TREVES (exuberantly) We've made tremendous strides today, Mothershead. He listens and repeats with great attention, and this certainly isn't easy for him. MOTHERSHEAD Parrots can do as much, Mr. Treves. It's all very nice, but I don't see the point. You know they won't let him stay here. TREVES (lowering his voice) I'm sure that if Mr. Merrick made a good impression on the hospital committee they'd see that he's the exception to their rule. Now I'm not expecting miracles. I'm not saying he'll be able to read or write, but I do think that I can get him to speak for himself. I'm going to arrange things with Carr Gomm right now. (to Merrick) That was very good, John, very good. That's all for today. We shall do some more tomorrow. Mothershead? Mrs. Mothershead sets the tray down beside Merrick. TREVES I'll see you soon. He and Mothershead exit. Merrick watches the door close. He sighs quietly, looks about, and sees the Bible on the bedside table. He picks it up and, gently runs his fingers over the cover. RECEIVING ROOM - THE LONDON There is total pandemonium in the receiving room. The room is filled with screaming men, women and children. Two drunken women have been fighting with broken bottles and are now covered with blood and cuts. The women are still hysterical, one minute they're sobbing, then in an instant screaming and intent upon fighting again. The crowd keeps them apart. Two Bobbies stand in the background making no move to intercede. To the side we see Bytes watching everything. It is still too violent a scene for the Nurses to come to the women's aide and they stand up in the front of the room waiting. Bytes makes his way along the side of the crowd waiting for a chance to get behind the Nurses and on into the hospital. Now the women begin sobbing again and things quiet some. The Nurses come forward into the crowd. Bytes moves over closer to the hallways. When the Nurses have all gone into the crowd he seizes the chance and disappears into the hospital. CUT TO: Bytes appears and walks down hospital hallway looking about. CARR GOMM'S OFFICE The door opens and Treves enters. CARR (V.O.) Ah, Treves... Treves sits in the armchair. Carr Gomm is sitting at his desk. CARR Have you contacted the British Home and the Royal Hospital? TREVES Ah, no sir. I had planned to see them in the morning. CARR Good! How is the patient? TREVES He's doing very well. In fact that's why I came to see you. I think that if I were to present Mr. Merrick to the hospital committee, then they would have a chance to see for themselves not only the extraordinary nature of the disease, but of the man as well. If the committee had a chance to speak with him, hear him say a few words for himself, I'm sure they would see him as a patient, rather than as a violation of the rules. CARR A few words? I thought he was imbecile? TREVES Well sir, perhaps I should explain... CARR I really don't think that's necessary Treves. I'm quite sure the committee will be able to make an equitable decision on the merits of the case, such as they are. TREVES I don't agree. No one can make a reasonable decision about this man's future without at least meeting him. No doctor would presume to diagnose a patient he had never met. CARR No, Treves, it's out of the question. Now if it was up to me, I'd say "Certainly, let's meet the fellow, by all means," I'm sorry, I simply can't speak for the other members of the committee. TREVES Then will you meet him, as a representative of the committee. CARR Mr. Treves, it's out of the question. I want to hear as soon as possible what the other hospitals can do. I'm sorry. HALLWAY - STAIRCASE - THE LONDON We see Treves leave Carr Gomm's office and walk toward us to the stairwell. As Treves begins down the stairs, he sees Bytes on the next landing coming up. Bytes spots him and goes toward him. BYTES I want my man back. TREVES Just a moment, how did you get in here? BYTES Never mind that, I want my man! TREVES He's still very sick. Please come downstairs with me. I'll explain the situation. BYTES (shouting) DON'T... Don't muck me about. You've had plenty of time to fix him up, and he's leaving with me, NOW. Do you understand me? Now, Mr. Treves. We had a bargain! TREVES You misunderstood. This man suffered a severe fall, if you take my meaning. He's my patient now and I must do what... BYTES Pull the other one, why don't you! We made a deal! TREVES I know what you've done to him and he's never going back to that. BYTES He's a freak! That's how they live. We're partners, him and I, business partners. You're willfully deprivin' me of my livlihood! TREVES All you do is profit from another man's misery! BYTES You think you're better 'n me? YOU wanted the freak to show all your doctor chums and make a name for yourself, you guv. So I gave him to you. On trust, in the name of science! And now I want him back. TREVES You don't own this man! BYTES I want him back! TREVES So you can beat him? So you can starve him? A dog in the street would fare better with you! BYTES I've got my rights, damn you, and I'm going to the authorities! CARR (V.O.) Well, go to the authorities... Now we see Carr Gomm standing above them, at the top of the stairs. CARR By all means do so. In fact, I'll fetch them myself. I'm quite sure they'd be very interested in your story, as well as ours. Livid, Bytes looks from Carr Gomm to Treves, at a loss for words. TREVES Now I think we really do understand one another. BYTES (venomously) Right... Right. He backs slowly down to the landing eyeing Treves and Carr Gomm. At the landing he casually turns and disappears down more stairs. Treves turns and gazes at Carr Gomm. CARR Singularly unpleasant chap... uh... I don't suppose there would be any harm in my meeting your... patient, Mr. Treves. TREVES (gratefully) Thank you very much Sir. Shall we say in a few days then? CARR Shall we say two o'clock tomorrow afternoon? TREVES (slightly taken aback) Wh... whatever is most convenient for you, sir. CARR Two o'clock then... you know Treves... It seems this acquaintance of yours has become rather more than just an acquaintance. TREVES ...Yes, Sir. They part company. We follow Treves down the stairs. TREVES (muttering) Two o'clock? Then we follow Carr Gomm to his office door. He stops short. CARR (mumbling out loud) Elephant Man? I don't want to meet an Elephant Man. HALLWAYS - THE LONDON (NIGHT) Again, the hospital is closing down for the night. Lights go off in each hallway. The staff is vacating the hospital. As the last light goes off, we hear the great iron door slam shut. TREVES' HOUSE - BEDROOM (NIGHT) Anne is at her dressing table, brushing out her hair. She is in a very flattering dressing gown, ready to turn in. We see her reflected in the mirror as well as Treves who is in his robe in the background seated at his side of their bed, deep in thought. Anne looks at Treves and smiles affectionately. ANNE (coyly) Freddie? Getting no response she renews her efforts. ANNE Freddie?... Freddie, don't look so discouraged. TREVES I shouldn't be. We made great progress today. I taught him to repeat a few basic phrases. He did rather well, too, but I had to lead him every step of the way. Though frankly, at times I was unsure of who was leading whom. ANNE What do you mean? TREVES Well, I wasn't sure whether he was parroting me because that's all he was capable of, or whether he sensed that that's all I wanted to hear, and he was trying to please me. ANNE But I thought you said that he was rather... simple? TREVES He is. I mean, I've always thought he was. I think he must be. Is he simple? Or is that just something I've wished upon him to make things simpler for myself? Anne puts down the brush and rises. ANNE Frederick, why are you so interested in this particular case? TREVES I don't know. I can't explain it. If this is an intelligent man, trapped in the body of a monster, then I'm under a moral obligation to help free that mind, free that spirit as best I can, to help him live as full and content a life as possible. But! If he's an imbecile, who's body I can't treat and who's mind I can't touch, well, then my obligation is discharged. They can put him where they will; he won't be bothered, I won't be bothered, and everyone's conscience can remain free and untroubled. And that is my dilemma... what is in his mind? Anne, sympathizing with his concerns goes to him and puts her arms around him. ANNE Perhaps you're just polishing a stone, endowing this Elephant Man with qualities he doesn't possess? TREVES (impatiently) And what qualities are those? Intelligence or stupidity? ANNE (slightly hurt) I'm sure I don't know, Freddie. She releases Treves and lies down. Treves realizes that perhaps he has been unkind. TREVES I'm sorry... I don't know either. I just don't know. ANNE Well, these things take time. TREVES I've only got until two o'clock tomorrow afternoon, when Carr Gomm meets him. Somehow, between now and then I've got to make John Merrick at least seem like an intelligent man... Why am I fooling myself? Nothing short of John delivering the Sermon on the Mount is going to sway Carr Gomm... Anne sits back up and gently places her hand over Treves' mouth. As she does so she leans forward and turns out the light. ISOLATION WARD Merrick is propped up in bed. Suddenly the door bursts open. The Night Porter, an arm around a drunken giggling tart, stands in the doorway. As soon as the Charwoman sees Merrick, she screams as does Merrick, and she wriggles free, making for the stairs. The Night Porter watches her go and then turns to Merrick laughing noisily. He then pulls the door shut with a bang. Merrick, very frightened, crawls down into his hiding place. BEDROOM (MORNING) We see Anne alone in bed, asleep. Treves is finished dressing and leaves the room. The sound of the door closing awakens Anne. She looks around for Treves. A clock reads 5:30. ISOLATION WARD Merrick's disguise hangs on the wall. MERRICK (V.O.) The Lord is my shepherd, I shall not want, he maketh me to lie down in green pastures; He leadeth me beside still waters. He restoreth my soul: He Guideth me in the paths of righteousness... TREVES Righteousness... MERRICK (V.O.) Righteousness for his namesake. WE NOW SEE TREVES AND MERRICK TREVES Very good, very good. Now, when your visitor comes today I want you to say it exactly the way you said it just now. I will introduce him to you and you will say the words you've learned. If you have any trouble with any of the words, I'll help you. I'm sure you'll be just fine. If you do as well for him as you've done for me these last two days, then I'm sure our visitor will be very pleased. Now, let's go through the whole thing again, shall we? I will say "May I introduce you to Mr. Carr Gomm." And you will say... MERRICK Hello, my name is John Merrick. I am very pleased to meet you! HALLWAY Treves and Carr Gomm are speaking together as they walk along. TREVES It's only a physical problem. He has trouble with certain sounds because of the constrictive deformity of the mouth. But he can talk, and has a great eagerness to make contact with people who will let him. So if you have any difficulty understanding what he is saying, just tell me and I'll make it clear. CARR Speaking is one thing, Treves, but can the man comprehend? Treves cannot easily answer this question. TREVES ...As I said, it's only a physical problem... but I do feel that Mr. Merrick is very flattered that you're taking the time and trouble to meet him, and he's most anxious to make a good impression, so he might seem rather nervous. CARR He needn't. I have no desire to cause him any discomfort. Did you make those inquiries we spoke about? TREVES Yes, I spoke to both the British Home and Royal Hospital for Incurables. I'm afraid that they weren't very encouraging, but they said they'd bring it up at their next committee meeting, so we should have their answers shortly. CARR Fine, fine. You know, your dedication to this patient is an inspiring thing, Treves. But you must remember that this is a hospital, and there are many patients here. Patients who can be made well, and you owe them your first consideration. Just don't become so obsessed, old man, that you begin to neglect them. Carr Gomm starts up the stairs. Treves remains behind, watching him for a moment, then follows. ISOLATION WARD Merrick is standing beside his disguise on its hook. He nervously smooths the cloak down, repositions the Bible on the bedside table and smooths the cloak again. He looks at the door, expecting it to open. It doesn't. His hands smooths the cloak over and over again. Voices can be heard outside the door. Merrick freezes. There are two raps at the door. Merrick flinches, clutching the cloak. The raps are repeated. He pulls himself together and walks to the middle of the room. He takes a deep breath and closes his eyes. MERRICK Come in. The door opens and Treves and Carr Gomm enter. Carr Gomm's eyes are rivited on Merrick, but he contains his shock. Merrick is breathing unevenly, his eyes still closed. Treves goes to him and touches his shoulder. Merrick opens his eyes and looks up at Treves. Treves turns to Carr Gomm, as does Merrick. Carr Gomm lowers his eyes. TREVES John, may I introduce you to Sir Carr Gomm. MERRICK Hello... my name is John Merrick. I am very pleased to meet you. Carr Gomm, still shaken, instinctively offers his hand. CARR I'm very... pleased to meet you. Before Carr Gomm can withdraw his hand, Merrick grasps it with his left hand. There is an uncomfortable silence. Merrick releases it. Carr Gomn, nervously clears his throat. CARR How are you feeling today? MERRICK I feel much better. Thank you for asking. And you? CARR I'm feeling very fit, thank you. How is your bronchitis? MERRICK I feel much better. Thank you. CARR Are you comfortable here? MERRICK Everyone has been very kind. I am extremely grateful. TREVES Mr. Merrick likes the food here. Don't you John? MERRICK Oh yes! It is much better than what I am used to. CARR Oh yes? TREVES (after a pause) And what was that, John? MERRICK Potatoes... There is another agonizing silence. TREVES (to Carr Gomm) ...Yes potatoes... but... MERRICK But the variety of food here is very pleasing... I commend you. CARR (after a pause) I understand that you were beaten? Merrick is at a loss. This is not part of the expected scenario. DIERRICK Oh no, everyone has been very kind. CARR No, I meant in your former situation. Merrick doesn't seem to understand. MERRICK I'm feeling much better now... Carr Gomm stares levelly at Treves for a moment, then asks Merrick: CARR Tell me, how do you like Mr. Treves? As a teacher? Treves stiffens. MERRICK ...I... everyone has been very kind to me. CARR Of course. How long did you and Mr. Treves prepare for this interview? Merrick looks at Treves for guidance, but Treves cannot look him in the eye. MERRICK ...everyone has been very kind. CARR Yes, of course... Well, it's been a pleasure meeting you, Mr. Merrick. Good day. TREVES (to John) Thank you, John. You did very well. Treves and Carr Gomm go out the door onto the landing. Merrick sees his chance escaping him and tries to recapture their attention. MERRICK (his voice is gaining strength) The Lord is my shepherd, I shall not want. He maketh me to lie down in green pastures... (he continues through the following dialogue) Treves and Carr Gomm are alone on the landing, speaking quietly. CARR It was a nice try, Treves, but the man is so obviously mouthing your words. TREVES Yes, I'm very sorry to have wasted your time, sir. I just felt that I had to do anything I could to protect him. CARR I'm sorry too. He simply doesn't belong here. He's be much happier somewhere else, where he could be constantly looked after. Believe me, Frederick, it's better that it worked out this way. Good day. Merrick has come to the end of what Treves taught him to say. He makes one last, desperate attempt to be heard. Treves, disheartened, stands on the landing as Carr Gomm starts down the stairs. MERRICK (V.O.) (now full voice) Yea, though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I will fear no evil, for Thou art with me; Thy rod and Thy staff, they comfort me... Treves is staring, open-mouthed, back into the room. Carr Gomm looks up at him. CARR What is it, Treves? MERRICK (V.O.) Thou preparest a table before me in the presence of mine enemies, Thou anointest my head with oil... TREVES I didn't teach him that part! Treves rushes back into the room, followed by Carr Gomm. MERRICK My cup runneth over. Surely goodness and loving kindness shall follow me all the days of my life, and I shall dwell in the house of the Lord forever. There is a long silence as all three men stare at each other. TREVES How did you, know the rest? I never taught you the rest of it. CARR I don't understand. TREVES Tell me, John, how did you know the rest of the 23rd Psalm? MERRICK (hesitantly) I... I used to read the Bible every day. I know it very well. The Bible, and the Book of Common Prayer. The 23rd Psalm is very beautiful. ISOLATION WARD A few minutes later. We hear voices inside the room. CARR (V.O.) It was a great pleasure to meet you, Mr. Merrick. MERRICK I am very pleased to meet you. CARR I hope we can talk together again sometime. Good day. The door opens and Carr Gomm and Treves come out. TREVES (to Merrick) I'll be right back. He closes the door. CARR I want to see you in my office as soon as you're through up here. We've a good deal to discuss. He starts down the stairs. TREVES Of course, sir. Thank you, thank you very much. Carr Gomm stops on the stairs. CARR Treves. Well done. TREVES Not me, sir. Mr. Merrick. He succeeded in spite of my shortsightedness. ISOLATION WARD Merrick is on the bed, propped up by pillows. The door opens. Treves comes in, shuts the door and leans against it. They look at each other for a moment. TREVES Why did you let me go on like that, teaching you what you already knew? Why didn't you tell me you could read? MERRICK You did not ask me. TREVES I never thought to ask. How can you ever forgive me? MERRICK Oh, no do not say that. You have been so kind to me. I was afraid to say too much. People always want me to be quiet. You wanted me to speak, but I was afraid. Forgive me. TREVES We do have a lot to talk about, don't we? CARR GOMM'S OFFICE Carr Gomm is seated at the window, looking out silently. There is a knock at the door and Treves enters. He quietly closes the door and walks to the window. Carr Gomm never moves. CARR Can you imagine what his life has been like? TREVES Yes, I think I can. CARR No you can't. You can't begin to know, no one can. Carr Gomm suddenly stands and faces Treves. CARR You are quite right, Treves, this is an exceptional case. And I quite agree that the committee should see Mr. Merrick. TREVES I could easily arrange... CARR No, not that way. Broadneck and the others don't like to deal with patients directly. It makes them queasy... Do you have any photographs of Mr. Merrick? TREVES Well, yes. CARR Excellent. We shall present them, along with the other particulars of the case to the committee. I want them to see, exactly, how horribly his body has been affected. You and I shall vouch for his inner qualities. TREVES Do you think they'll go along with us? CARR Of course they will. They're reasonable men. ISOLATION WARD Merrick is in bed, very tired. It's been an exhausting day. Suddenly the door opens and Mothershead comes into the room. Merrick looks up at her very apprehensively. She walks over to the bed, picks up the Bible from the table, opens it and hands it to Merrick. MOTHERSHEAD Read it. Merrick looks down at the Bible. MERRICK Thou heardest my voice; hide not thine ear at my breathing, At my cry. Mothershead backs slowly to the door, deeply disturbed. She stares at Merrick for a moment. MOTHERSHEAD Credit where credit is due. You'll have the paper every morning at breakfast. She quickly turns and exits. Merrick looks down at the Bible. It is open to "Lamentations". HALLWAY - THE LONDON (NIGHT) As before the lights are going off in one hallway after another. The hallways are empty, dark and silent. We hear the great iron door close with a bang. ISOLATION WARD (NIGHT) Merrick is in his bed as always. He holds the portrait of the beautiful woman, gazing at it longingly. He hears a door close far away in the silence of the hospital. Suddenly we hear the heavy footfalls of the Night Porter's boots. As they get louder and louder we move slowly closer to Merrick's face. The sound is very close now, and Merrick's eyes are visibly agitated. Finally, the door bursts open and the Night Porter is standing there. He stares malevolently at Merrick for a long moment and then walks to him menacingly. NIGHT PORTER I hear you have some trouble sleepin'... He grabs Merrick fiercely by the hair and jerks his head back. Merrick immediately starts to wheeze and gasp. NIGHT PORTER Head's too heavy, eh? He pulls Merrick all the way down onto the bed, so that he is prone, struggling for breath. NIGHT PORTER And I heard a nasty rumor about you; I heard you can talk but you can't, can you... can you... can you?... MERRICK (struggling) Noooo! The Night Porter is as first surprised, and then pleased at the desperate sound. NIGHT PORTER No... No you can't! One word about me out of that stinking cakehole... Just ONE word, and you'll have no trouble at sleepin'... no trouble at all. You understand me? Do you!! MERRICK (croaking) Yyyesss. Satisfied, the Night Porter rights Merrick who is just able to catch his breath. The Night Porter smiles and pats Merrick on the shoulder. NIGHT PORTER There now, that's better, i'n' it? HALLWAY Treves and Carr Gomm are on their way to the committee meeting, confident of their position. Treves is holding a folder, and Carr Gomm is looking at the photographs of Merrick. CARR As far as I can see, the only obstacle might be Broadneck. He has enormous influence over the others, very old school, not an easy man to impress. In any case, if worse does come to worse, we still have the British and Royal Homes to fall back on, don't we. Treves is silent. They stop. CARR Don't we? TREVES No, we don't. Their committees have informed me that they're unwilling to take Mr. Merrick, even if they were supplied with funds. They don't want

understands

How many times the word 'understands' appears in the text?

you? He puts the bowl down again and goes back to Merrick, who seems very upset at leaving his hiding place. TREVES Now please, John, you must do as I say. Come up from there. He starts to help Merrick up, but Merrick just presses himself farther back in the corner, still babbling. There are two raps at the door. Treves goes to it and lets Mothershead in. MOTHERSHEAD Good morning, Mr. Treves. It'll be his bath-time soon. Has he eaten? TREVES Not quite yet, Mrs. Mothershead. There seems to be some difficulty this morning. They both look at the bed. Merrick has almost disappeared under it. MOTHERSHEAD Won't come out, eh? TREVES No, he's very upset about something. MOTHERSHEAD Just being obstinate, sir. I'll handle it. She goes to Merrick and takes hold of his left wrist. MOTHERSHEAD Alright, my son, none of this fuss. Come up from there, this instant. She starts to force him up from the floor. Merrick is moaning now, still trying to get away. TREVES No! Don't pull at him like that. We don't want to frighten him more than he already is. By this time Mothershead has almost got him back on the bed. MOTHERSHEAD Honestly, sir, you must be very firm with this sort. Otherwise they'd lay about on the floor gibbering all day long. All he understands is a good smack. They help Merrick settle back on the pillow. Merrick is still making desperate, unintelligible sounds. TREVES He's had his share of "smacks", Mothershead. I expect that's what drives him under the bed. We must use patience and understanding with this man. MOTHERSHEAD Perhaps you've got the time for that, Mr. Treves, I certainly don't. I've got an entire hospital to look after, and you have your real patients. Don't waste your time with him sir, it's like talking to a wall. I don't mean to be harsh, but truthfully what can you do for him? I'll be back later for his bath. And Mr. Carr Gomm would like to see you when you have a moment. Good day sir. She exits. Treves shuts the door behind her and turns back to the bed. TREVES (to himself) What good am I to you...? He goes to the bed and sits down in front of Merrick, angered by his own seeming uselessness in the situation. TREVES ...What is my purpose? ...It's so important that I understand you. I want to help you, I want to be your doctor... (directly to Merrick) but I can't help you unless you help me, unless I know what you are feeling. I believe there's something back there, there's something you want to say, but I've got to understand you. Do you understand me? Merrick hesitates, then starts babbling again. TREVES No! You are going to talk to me! We are going to show them! We're going to show them that you're not a wall. We are going to talk! Do you understand? Nod your head if you understand me! Slowly Merrick nods yes. TREVES You do understand me! You understand. Now you're going to say it. I've got to hear how you say things. Now, very slowly, say "yes." Treves carefully mouths the word. TREVES "Yes." Merrick is still hesitant, from years of fear, but his eyes betray a growing excitement. Slowly, he tries to talk, his voice a tremulous whisper. MERRICK Yyyy... Yyye... yyyess. TREVES (grabbing Merrick's arm) Yes John! Throughout their dialogue, Merrick is still very garbled, but he no longer babbles. He makes a great effort to speak slowly, to form words the way Treves forms them, to be understood. MERRICK ...Yyes TREVES Yyyess. MERRICK Yyess. TREVES That's much better. I could understand that "yes". MERRICK (pleased) Yes! TREVES Very good! Oh yes! Now listen. I'm going to say some things to you and I want you to repeat them... um... I want you to say them back to me. Do you understand? I'm going to say some things to you and I want you to say them back to me. Do you understand? MERRICK Yes. TREVES Excellent! Now, say... "Hello" MERRICK Hello... TREVES My name is... MERRICK My... name is... TREVES John Merrick. MERRICK John... Merrick TREVES Say "Merrick". MERRICK Merrick... TREVES Say "Mmmerrick." MERRICK Mmmerrick. TREVES Say "Mmmerrick." MERRICK Mmmerrick. TREVES Well, that's alright. I understand you. Now, say the whole thing again, Hello ... MERRICK (haltingly) Hello... my name is... John Merrick. DISSOLVE TO HALLWAY Mrs. Mothershead comes out of the kitchen with a supper tray and walks down the hall, passing the open ward door. We see nurses serving patients their supper. Nora comes out of the ward with a tray which she holds tightly against her. A bowl of soup is spilling on her apron. She catches up with Mothershead. They speak as they walk. NORA Oh, Mrs. Mothershead, please forgive my behavior yesterday. I'm sorry if you're having to do extra work on my account. It was just seeing it... MOTHERSHEAD Patients here are not "its". They are either "he's" or "she's", but that's alright, Ireland. This one's going to be more work for all of us. Good God girl! Mind your broth. Mothershead continues on. Nora guiltily watches her go. ISOLATION WARD Treves and Merrick are absorbed in their work. A knock comes at the door. TREVES Come in. Mothershead enters. TREVES Why, my dear Mrs. Mothershead, how good of you to join us. Mr. Merrick, will you please introduce yourself? MERRICK (hesitantly) Hello, my name is John Merrick. MOTHERSHEAD Good Lord, Mr. Treves! TREVES (exuberantly) We've made tremendous strides today, Mothershead. He listens and repeats with great attention, and this certainly isn't easy for him. MOTHERSHEAD Parrots can do as much, Mr. Treves. It's all very nice, but I don't see the point. You know they won't let him stay here. TREVES (lowering his voice) I'm sure that if Mr. Merrick made a good impression on the hospital committee they'd see that he's the exception to their rule. Now I'm not expecting miracles. I'm not saying he'll be able to read or write, but I do think that I can get him to speak for himself. I'm going to arrange things with Carr Gomm right now. (to Merrick) That was very good, John, very good. That's all for today. We shall do some more tomorrow. Mothershead? Mrs. Mothershead sets the tray down beside Merrick. TREVES I'll see you soon. He and Mothershead exit. Merrick watches the door close. He sighs quietly, looks about, and sees the Bible on the bedside table. He picks it up and, gently runs his fingers over the cover. RECEIVING ROOM - THE LONDON There is total pandemonium in the receiving room. The room is filled with screaming men, women and children. Two drunken women have been fighting with broken bottles and are now covered with blood and cuts. The women are still hysterical, one minute they're sobbing, then in an instant screaming and intent upon fighting again. The crowd keeps them apart. Two Bobbies stand in the background making no move to intercede. To the side we see Bytes watching everything. It is still too violent a scene for the Nurses to come to the women's aide and they stand up in the front of the room waiting. Bytes makes his way along the side of the crowd waiting for a chance to get behind the Nurses and on into the hospital. Now the women begin sobbing again and things quiet some. The Nurses come forward into the crowd. Bytes moves over closer to the hallways. When the Nurses have all gone into the crowd he seizes the chance and disappears into the hospital. CUT TO: Bytes appears and walks down hospital hallway looking about. CARR GOMM'S OFFICE The door opens and Treves enters. CARR (V.O.) Ah, Treves... Treves sits in the armchair. Carr Gomm is sitting at his desk. CARR Have you contacted the British Home and the Royal Hospital? TREVES Ah, no sir. I had planned to see them in the morning. CARR Good! How is the patient? TREVES He's doing very well. In fact that's why I came to see you. I think that if I were to present Mr. Merrick to the hospital committee, then they would have a chance to see for themselves not only the extraordinary nature of the disease, but of the man as well. If the committee had a chance to speak with him, hear him say a few words for himself, I'm sure they would see him as a patient, rather than as a violation of the rules. CARR A few words? I thought he was imbecile? TREVES Well sir, perhaps I should explain... CARR I really don't think that's necessary Treves. I'm quite sure the committee will be able to make an equitable decision on the merits of the case, such as they are. TREVES I don't agree. No one can make a reasonable decision about this man's future without at least meeting him. No doctor would presume to diagnose a patient he had never met. CARR No, Treves, it's out of the question. Now if it was up to me, I'd say "Certainly, let's meet the fellow, by all means," I'm sorry, I simply can't speak for the other members of the committee. TREVES Then will you meet him, as a representative of the committee. CARR Mr. Treves, it's out of the question. I want to hear as soon as possible what the other hospitals can do. I'm sorry. HALLWAY - STAIRCASE - THE LONDON We see Treves leave Carr Gomm's office and walk toward us to the stairwell. As Treves begins down the stairs, he sees Bytes on the next landing coming up. Bytes spots him and goes toward him. BYTES I want my man back. TREVES Just a moment, how did you get in here? BYTES Never mind that, I want my man! TREVES He's still very sick. Please come downstairs with me. I'll explain the situation. BYTES (shouting) DON'T... Don't muck me about. You've had plenty of time to fix him up, and he's leaving with me, NOW. Do you understand me? Now, Mr. Treves. We had a bargain! TREVES You misunderstood. This man suffered a severe fall, if you take my meaning. He's my patient now and I must do what... BYTES Pull the other one, why don't you! We made a deal! TREVES I know what you've done to him and he's never going back to that. BYTES He's a freak! That's how they live. We're partners, him and I, business partners. You're willfully deprivin' me of my livlihood! TREVES All you do is profit from another man's misery! BYTES You think you're better 'n me? YOU wanted the freak to show all your doctor chums and make a name for yourself, you guv. So I gave him to you. On trust, in the name of science! And now I want him back. TREVES You don't own this man! BYTES I want him back! TREVES So you can beat him? So you can starve him? A dog in the street would fare better with you! BYTES I've got my rights, damn you, and I'm going to the authorities! CARR (V.O.) Well, go to the authorities... Now we see Carr Gomm standing above them, at the top of the stairs. CARR By all means do so. In fact, I'll fetch them myself. I'm quite sure they'd be very interested in your story, as well as ours. Livid, Bytes looks from Carr Gomm to Treves, at a loss for words. TREVES Now I think we really do understand one another. BYTES (venomously) Right... Right. He backs slowly down to the landing eyeing Treves and Carr Gomm. At the landing he casually turns and disappears down more stairs. Treves turns and gazes at Carr Gomm. CARR Singularly unpleasant chap... uh... I don't suppose there would be any harm in my meeting your... patient, Mr. Treves. TREVES (gratefully) Thank you very much Sir. Shall we say in a few days then? CARR Shall we say two o'clock tomorrow afternoon? TREVES (slightly taken aback) Wh... whatever is most convenient for you, sir. CARR Two o'clock then... you know Treves... It seems this acquaintance of yours has become rather more than just an acquaintance. TREVES ...Yes, Sir. They part company. We follow Treves down the stairs. TREVES (muttering) Two o'clock? Then we follow Carr Gomm to his office door. He stops short. CARR (mumbling out loud) Elephant Man? I don't want to meet an Elephant Man. HALLWAYS - THE LONDON (NIGHT) Again, the hospital is closing down for the night. Lights go off in each hallway. The staff is vacating the hospital. As the last light goes off, we hear the great iron door slam shut. TREVES' HOUSE - BEDROOM (NIGHT) Anne is at her dressing table, brushing out her hair. She is in a very flattering dressing gown, ready to turn in. We see her reflected in the mirror as well as Treves who is in his robe in the background seated at his side of their bed, deep in thought. Anne looks at Treves and smiles affectionately. ANNE (coyly) Freddie? Getting no response she renews her efforts. ANNE Freddie?... Freddie, don't look so discouraged. TREVES I shouldn't be. We made great progress today. I taught him to repeat a few basic phrases. He did rather well, too, but I had to lead him every step of the way. Though frankly, at times I was unsure of who was leading whom. ANNE What do you mean? TREVES Well, I wasn't sure whether he was parroting me because that's all he was capable of, or whether he sensed that that's all I wanted to hear, and he was trying to please me. ANNE But I thought you said that he was rather... simple? TREVES He is. I mean, I've always thought he was. I think he must be. Is he simple? Or is that just something I've wished upon him to make things simpler for myself? Anne puts down the brush and rises. ANNE Frederick, why are you so interested in this particular case? TREVES I don't know. I can't explain it. If this is an intelligent man, trapped in the body of a monster, then I'm under a moral obligation to help free that mind, free that spirit as best I can, to help him live as full and content a life as possible. But! If he's an imbecile, who's body I can't treat and who's mind I can't touch, well, then my obligation is discharged. They can put him where they will; he won't be bothered, I won't be bothered, and everyone's conscience can remain free and untroubled. And that is my dilemma... what is in his mind? Anne, sympathizing with his concerns goes to him and puts her arms around him. ANNE Perhaps you're just polishing a stone, endowing this Elephant Man with qualities he doesn't possess? TREVES (impatiently) And what qualities are those? Intelligence or stupidity? ANNE (slightly hurt) I'm sure I don't know, Freddie. She releases Treves and lies down. Treves realizes that perhaps he has been unkind. TREVES I'm sorry... I don't know either. I just don't know. ANNE Well, these things take time. TREVES I've only got until two o'clock tomorrow afternoon, when Carr Gomm meets him. Somehow, between now and then I've got to make John Merrick at least seem like an intelligent man... Why am I fooling myself? Nothing short of John delivering the Sermon on the Mount is going to sway Carr Gomm... Anne sits back up and gently places her hand over Treves' mouth. As she does so she leans forward and turns out the light. ISOLATION WARD Merrick is propped up in bed. Suddenly the door bursts open. The Night Porter, an arm around a drunken giggling tart, stands in the doorway. As soon as the Charwoman sees Merrick, she screams as does Merrick, and she wriggles free, making for the stairs. The Night Porter watches her go and then turns to Merrick laughing noisily. He then pulls the door shut with a bang. Merrick, very frightened, crawls down into his hiding place. BEDROOM (MORNING) We see Anne alone in bed, asleep. Treves is finished dressing and leaves the room. The sound of the door closing awakens Anne. She looks around for Treves. A clock reads 5:30. ISOLATION WARD Merrick's disguise hangs on the wall. MERRICK (V.O.) The Lord is my shepherd, I shall not want, he maketh me to lie down in green pastures; He leadeth me beside still waters. He restoreth my soul: He Guideth me in the paths of righteousness... TREVES Righteousness... MERRICK (V.O.) Righteousness for his namesake. WE NOW SEE TREVES AND MERRICK TREVES Very good, very good. Now, when your visitor comes today I want you to say it exactly the way you said it just now. I will introduce him to you and you will say the words you've learned. If you have any trouble with any of the words, I'll help you. I'm sure you'll be just fine. If you do as well for him as you've done for me these last two days, then I'm sure our visitor will be very pleased. Now, let's go through the whole thing again, shall we? I will say "May I introduce you to Mr. Carr Gomm." And you will say... MERRICK Hello, my name is John Merrick. I am very pleased to meet you! HALLWAY Treves and Carr Gomm are speaking together as they walk along. TREVES It's only a physical problem. He has trouble with certain sounds because of the constrictive deformity of the mouth. But he can talk, and has a great eagerness to make contact with people who will let him. So if you have any difficulty understanding what he is saying, just tell me and I'll make it clear. CARR Speaking is one thing, Treves, but can the man comprehend? Treves cannot easily answer this question. TREVES ...As I said, it's only a physical problem... but I do feel that Mr. Merrick is very flattered that you're taking the time and trouble to meet him, and he's most anxious to make a good impression, so he might seem rather nervous. CARR He needn't. I have no desire to cause him any discomfort. Did you make those inquiries we spoke about? TREVES Yes, I spoke to both the British Home and Royal Hospital for Incurables. I'm afraid that they weren't very encouraging, but they said they'd bring it up at their next committee meeting, so we should have their answers shortly. CARR Fine, fine. You know, your dedication to this patient is an inspiring thing, Treves. But you must remember that this is a hospital, and there are many patients here. Patients who can be made well, and you owe them your first consideration. Just don't become so obsessed, old man, that you begin to neglect them. Carr Gomm starts up the stairs. Treves remains behind, watching him for a moment, then follows. ISOLATION WARD Merrick is standing beside his disguise on its hook. He nervously smooths the cloak down, repositions the Bible on the bedside table and smooths the cloak again. He looks at the door, expecting it to open. It doesn't. His hands smooths the cloak over and over again. Voices can be heard outside the door. Merrick freezes. There are two raps at the door. Merrick flinches, clutching the cloak. The raps are repeated. He pulls himself together and walks to the middle of the room. He takes a deep breath and closes his eyes. MERRICK Come in. The door opens and Treves and Carr Gomm enter. Carr Gomm's eyes are rivited on Merrick, but he contains his shock. Merrick is breathing unevenly, his eyes still closed. Treves goes to him and touches his shoulder. Merrick opens his eyes and looks up at Treves. Treves turns to Carr Gomm, as does Merrick. Carr Gomm lowers his eyes. TREVES John, may I introduce you to Sir Carr Gomm. MERRICK Hello... my name is John Merrick. I am very pleased to meet you. Carr Gomm, still shaken, instinctively offers his hand. CARR I'm very... pleased to meet you. Before Carr Gomm can withdraw his hand, Merrick grasps it with his left hand. There is an uncomfortable silence. Merrick releases it. Carr Gomn, nervously clears his throat. CARR How are you feeling today? MERRICK I feel much better. Thank you for asking. And you? CARR I'm feeling very fit, thank you. How is your bronchitis? MERRICK I feel much better. Thank you. CARR Are you comfortable here? MERRICK Everyone has been very kind. I am extremely grateful. TREVES Mr. Merrick likes the food here. Don't you John? MERRICK Oh yes! It is much better than what I am used to. CARR Oh yes? TREVES (after a pause) And what was that, John? MERRICK Potatoes... There is another agonizing silence. TREVES (to Carr Gomm) ...Yes potatoes... but... MERRICK But the variety of food here is very pleasing... I commend you. CARR (after a pause) I understand that you were beaten? Merrick is at a loss. This is not part of the expected scenario. DIERRICK Oh no, everyone has been very kind. CARR No, I meant in your former situation. Merrick doesn't seem to understand. MERRICK I'm feeling much better now... Carr Gomm stares levelly at Treves for a moment, then asks Merrick: CARR Tell me, how do you like Mr. Treves? As a teacher? Treves stiffens. MERRICK ...I... everyone has been very kind to me. CARR Of course. How long did you and Mr. Treves prepare for this interview? Merrick looks at Treves for guidance, but Treves cannot look him in the eye. MERRICK ...everyone has been very kind. CARR Yes, of course... Well, it's been a pleasure meeting you, Mr. Merrick. Good day. TREVES (to John) Thank you, John. You did very well. Treves and Carr Gomm go out the door onto the landing. Merrick sees his chance escaping him and tries to recapture their attention. MERRICK (his voice is gaining strength) The Lord is my shepherd, I shall not want. He maketh me to lie down in green pastures... (he continues through the following dialogue) Treves and Carr Gomm are alone on the landing, speaking quietly. CARR It was a nice try, Treves, but the man is so obviously mouthing your words. TREVES Yes, I'm very sorry to have wasted your time, sir. I just felt that I had to do anything I could to protect him. CARR I'm sorry too. He simply doesn't belong here. He's be much happier somewhere else, where he could be constantly looked after. Believe me, Frederick, it's better that it worked out this way. Good day. Merrick has come to the end of what Treves taught him to say. He makes one last, desperate attempt to be heard. Treves, disheartened, stands on the landing as Carr Gomm starts down the stairs. MERRICK (V.O.) (now full voice) Yea, though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I will fear no evil, for Thou art with me; Thy rod and Thy staff, they comfort me... Treves is staring, open-mouthed, back into the room. Carr Gomm looks up at him. CARR What is it, Treves? MERRICK (V.O.) Thou preparest a table before me in the presence of mine enemies, Thou anointest my head with oil... TREVES I didn't teach him that part! Treves rushes back into the room, followed by Carr Gomm. MERRICK My cup runneth over. Surely goodness and loving kindness shall follow me all the days of my life, and I shall dwell in the house of the Lord forever. There is a long silence as all three men stare at each other. TREVES How did you, know the rest? I never taught you the rest of it. CARR I don't understand. TREVES Tell me, John, how did you know the rest of the 23rd Psalm? MERRICK (hesitantly) I... I used to read the Bible every day. I know it very well. The Bible, and the Book of Common Prayer. The 23rd Psalm is very beautiful. ISOLATION WARD A few minutes later. We hear voices inside the room. CARR (V.O.) It was a great pleasure to meet you, Mr. Merrick. MERRICK I am very pleased to meet you. CARR I hope we can talk together again sometime. Good day. The door opens and Carr Gomm and Treves come out. TREVES (to Merrick) I'll be right back. He closes the door. CARR I want to see you in my office as soon as you're through up here. We've a good deal to discuss. He starts down the stairs. TREVES Of course, sir. Thank you, thank you very much. Carr Gomm stops on the stairs. CARR Treves. Well done. TREVES Not me, sir. Mr. Merrick. He succeeded in spite of my shortsightedness. ISOLATION WARD Merrick is on the bed, propped up by pillows. The door opens. Treves comes in, shuts the door and leans against it. They look at each other for a moment. TREVES Why did you let me go on like that, teaching you what you already knew? Why didn't you tell me you could read? MERRICK You did not ask me. TREVES I never thought to ask. How can you ever forgive me? MERRICK Oh, no do not say that. You have been so kind to me. I was afraid to say too much. People always want me to be quiet. You wanted me to speak, but I was afraid. Forgive me. TREVES We do have a lot to talk about, don't we? CARR GOMM'S OFFICE Carr Gomm is seated at the window, looking out silently. There is a knock at the door and Treves enters. He quietly closes the door and walks to the window. Carr Gomm never moves. CARR Can you imagine what his life has been like? TREVES Yes, I think I can. CARR No you can't. You can't begin to know, no one can. Carr Gomm suddenly stands and faces Treves. CARR You are quite right, Treves, this is an exceptional case. And I quite agree that the committee should see Mr. Merrick. TREVES I could easily arrange... CARR No, not that way. Broadneck and the others don't like to deal with patients directly. It makes them queasy... Do you have any photographs of Mr. Merrick? TREVES Well, yes. CARR Excellent. We shall present them, along with the other particulars of the case to the committee. I want them to see, exactly, how horribly his body has been affected. You and I shall vouch for his inner qualities. TREVES Do you think they'll go along with us? CARR Of course they will. They're reasonable men. ISOLATION WARD Merrick is in bed, very tired. It's been an exhausting day. Suddenly the door opens and Mothershead comes into the room. Merrick looks up at her very apprehensively. She walks over to the bed, picks up the Bible from the table, opens it and hands it to Merrick. MOTHERSHEAD Read it. Merrick looks down at the Bible. MERRICK Thou heardest my voice; hide not thine ear at my breathing, At my cry. Mothershead backs slowly to the door, deeply disturbed. She stares at Merrick for a moment. MOTHERSHEAD Credit where credit is due. You'll have the paper every morning at breakfast. She quickly turns and exits. Merrick looks down at the Bible. It is open to "Lamentations". HALLWAY - THE LONDON (NIGHT) As before the lights are going off in one hallway after another. The hallways are empty, dark and silent. We hear the great iron door close with a bang. ISOLATION WARD (NIGHT) Merrick is in his bed as always. He holds the portrait of the beautiful woman, gazing at it longingly. He hears a door close far away in the silence of the hospital. Suddenly we hear the heavy footfalls of the Night Porter's boots. As they get louder and louder we move slowly closer to Merrick's face. The sound is very close now, and Merrick's eyes are visibly agitated. Finally, the door bursts open and the Night Porter is standing there. He stares malevolently at Merrick for a long moment and then walks to him menacingly. NIGHT PORTER I hear you have some trouble sleepin'... He grabs Merrick fiercely by the hair and jerks his head back. Merrick immediately starts to wheeze and gasp. NIGHT PORTER Head's too heavy, eh? He pulls Merrick all the way down onto the bed, so that he is prone, struggling for breath. NIGHT PORTER And I heard a nasty rumor about you; I heard you can talk but you can't, can you... can you... can you?... MERRICK (struggling) Noooo! The Night Porter is as first surprised, and then pleased at the desperate sound. NIGHT PORTER No... No you can't! One word about me out of that stinking cakehole... Just ONE word, and you'll have no trouble at sleepin'... no trouble at all. You understand me? Do you!! MERRICK (croaking) Yyyesss. Satisfied, the Night Porter rights Merrick who is just able to catch his breath. The Night Porter smiles and pats Merrick on the shoulder. NIGHT PORTER There now, that's better, i'n' it? HALLWAY Treves and Carr Gomm are on their way to the committee meeting, confident of their position. Treves is holding a folder, and Carr Gomm is looking at the photographs of Merrick. CARR As far as I can see, the only obstacle might be Broadneck. He has enormous influence over the others, very old school, not an easy man to impress. In any case, if worse does come to worse, we still have the British and Royal Homes to fall back on, don't we. Treves is silent. They stop. CARR Don't we? TREVES No, we don't. Their committees have informed me that they're unwilling to take Mr. Merrick, even if they were supplied with funds. They don't want

god

How many times the word 'god' appears in the text?

you? He puts the bowl down again and goes back to Merrick, who seems very upset at leaving his hiding place. TREVES Now please, John, you must do as I say. Come up from there. He starts to help Merrick up, but Merrick just presses himself farther back in the corner, still babbling. There are two raps at the door. Treves goes to it and lets Mothershead in. MOTHERSHEAD Good morning, Mr. Treves. It'll be his bath-time soon. Has he eaten? TREVES Not quite yet, Mrs. Mothershead. There seems to be some difficulty this morning. They both look at the bed. Merrick has almost disappeared under it. MOTHERSHEAD Won't come out, eh? TREVES No, he's very upset about something. MOTHERSHEAD Just being obstinate, sir. I'll handle it. She goes to Merrick and takes hold of his left wrist. MOTHERSHEAD Alright, my son, none of this fuss. Come up from there, this instant. She starts to force him up from the floor. Merrick is moaning now, still trying to get away. TREVES No! Don't pull at him like that. We don't want to frighten him more than he already is. By this time Mothershead has almost got him back on the bed. MOTHERSHEAD Honestly, sir, you must be very firm with this sort. Otherwise they'd lay about on the floor gibbering all day long. All he understands is a good smack. They help Merrick settle back on the pillow. Merrick is still making desperate, unintelligible sounds. TREVES He's had his share of "smacks", Mothershead. I expect that's what drives him under the bed. We must use patience and understanding with this man. MOTHERSHEAD Perhaps you've got the time for that, Mr. Treves, I certainly don't. I've got an entire hospital to look after, and you have your real patients. Don't waste your time with him sir, it's like talking to a wall. I don't mean to be harsh, but truthfully what can you do for him? I'll be back later for his bath. And Mr. Carr Gomm would like to see you when you have a moment. Good day sir. She exits. Treves shuts the door behind her and turns back to the bed. TREVES (to himself) What good am I to you...? He goes to the bed and sits down in front of Merrick, angered by his own seeming uselessness in the situation. TREVES ...What is my purpose? ...It's so important that I understand you. I want to help you, I want to be your doctor... (directly to Merrick) but I can't help you unless you help me, unless I know what you are feeling. I believe there's something back there, there's something you want to say, but I've got to understand you. Do you understand me? Merrick hesitates, then starts babbling again. TREVES No! You are going to talk to me! We are going to show them! We're going to show them that you're not a wall. We are going to talk! Do you understand? Nod your head if you understand me! Slowly Merrick nods yes. TREVES You do understand me! You understand. Now you're going to say it. I've got to hear how you say things. Now, very slowly, say "yes." Treves carefully mouths the word. TREVES "Yes." Merrick is still hesitant, from years of fear, but his eyes betray a growing excitement. Slowly, he tries to talk, his voice a tremulous whisper. MERRICK Yyyy... Yyye... yyyess. TREVES (grabbing Merrick's arm) Yes John! Throughout their dialogue, Merrick is still very garbled, but he no longer babbles. He makes a great effort to speak slowly, to form words the way Treves forms them, to be understood. MERRICK ...Yyes TREVES Yyyess. MERRICK Yyess. TREVES That's much better. I could understand that "yes". MERRICK (pleased) Yes! TREVES Very good! Oh yes! Now listen. I'm going to say some things to you and I want you to repeat them... um... I want you to say them back to me. Do you understand? I'm going to say some things to you and I want you to say them back to me. Do you understand? MERRICK Yes. TREVES Excellent! Now, say... "Hello" MERRICK Hello... TREVES My name is... MERRICK My... name is... TREVES John Merrick. MERRICK John... Merrick TREVES Say "Merrick". MERRICK Merrick... TREVES Say "Mmmerrick." MERRICK Mmmerrick. TREVES Say "Mmmerrick." MERRICK Mmmerrick. TREVES Well, that's alright. I understand you. Now, say the whole thing again, Hello ... MERRICK (haltingly) Hello... my name is... John Merrick. DISSOLVE TO HALLWAY Mrs. Mothershead comes out of the kitchen with a supper tray and walks down the hall, passing the open ward door. We see nurses serving patients their supper. Nora comes out of the ward with a tray which she holds tightly against her. A bowl of soup is spilling on her apron. She catches up with Mothershead. They speak as they walk. NORA Oh, Mrs. Mothershead, please forgive my behavior yesterday. I'm sorry if you're having to do extra work on my account. It was just seeing it... MOTHERSHEAD Patients here are not "its". They are either "he's" or "she's", but that's alright, Ireland. This one's going to be more work for all of us. Good God girl! Mind your broth. Mothershead continues on. Nora guiltily watches her go. ISOLATION WARD Treves and Merrick are absorbed in their work. A knock comes at the door. TREVES Come in. Mothershead enters. TREVES Why, my dear Mrs. Mothershead, how good of you to join us. Mr. Merrick, will you please introduce yourself? MERRICK (hesitantly) Hello, my name is John Merrick. MOTHERSHEAD Good Lord, Mr. Treves! TREVES (exuberantly) We've made tremendous strides today, Mothershead. He listens and repeats with great attention, and this certainly isn't easy for him. MOTHERSHEAD Parrots can do as much, Mr. Treves. It's all very nice, but I don't see the point. You know they won't let him stay here. TREVES (lowering his voice) I'm sure that if Mr. Merrick made a good impression on the hospital committee they'd see that he's the exception to their rule. Now I'm not expecting miracles. I'm not saying he'll be able to read or write, but I do think that I can get him to speak for himself. I'm going to arrange things with Carr Gomm right now. (to Merrick) That was very good, John, very good. That's all for today. We shall do some more tomorrow. Mothershead? Mrs. Mothershead sets the tray down beside Merrick. TREVES I'll see you soon. He and Mothershead exit. Merrick watches the door close. He sighs quietly, looks about, and sees the Bible on the bedside table. He picks it up and, gently runs his fingers over the cover. RECEIVING ROOM - THE LONDON There is total pandemonium in the receiving room. The room is filled with screaming men, women and children. Two drunken women have been fighting with broken bottles and are now covered with blood and cuts. The women are still hysterical, one minute they're sobbing, then in an instant screaming and intent upon fighting again. The crowd keeps them apart. Two Bobbies stand in the background making no move to intercede. To the side we see Bytes watching everything. It is still too violent a scene for the Nurses to come to the women's aide and they stand up in the front of the room waiting. Bytes makes his way along the side of the crowd waiting for a chance to get behind the Nurses and on into the hospital. Now the women begin sobbing again and things quiet some. The Nurses come forward into the crowd. Bytes moves over closer to the hallways. When the Nurses have all gone into the crowd he seizes the chance and disappears into the hospital. CUT TO: Bytes appears and walks down hospital hallway looking about. CARR GOMM'S OFFICE The door opens and Treves enters. CARR (V.O.) Ah, Treves... Treves sits in the armchair. Carr Gomm is sitting at his desk. CARR Have you contacted the British Home and the Royal Hospital? TREVES Ah, no sir. I had planned to see them in the morning. CARR Good! How is the patient? TREVES He's doing very well. In fact that's why I came to see you. I think that if I were to present Mr. Merrick to the hospital committee, then they would have a chance to see for themselves not only the extraordinary nature of the disease, but of the man as well. If the committee had a chance to speak with him, hear him say a few words for himself, I'm sure they would see him as a patient, rather than as a violation of the rules. CARR A few words? I thought he was imbecile? TREVES Well sir, perhaps I should explain... CARR I really don't think that's necessary Treves. I'm quite sure the committee will be able to make an equitable decision on the merits of the case, such as they are. TREVES I don't agree. No one can make a reasonable decision about this man's future without at least meeting him. No doctor would presume to diagnose a patient he had never met. CARR No, Treves, it's out of the question. Now if it was up to me, I'd say "Certainly, let's meet the fellow, by all means," I'm sorry, I simply can't speak for the other members of the committee. TREVES Then will you meet him, as a representative of the committee. CARR Mr. Treves, it's out of the question. I want to hear as soon as possible what the other hospitals can do. I'm sorry. HALLWAY - STAIRCASE - THE LONDON We see Treves leave Carr Gomm's office and walk toward us to the stairwell. As Treves begins down the stairs, he sees Bytes on the next landing coming up. Bytes spots him and goes toward him. BYTES I want my man back. TREVES Just a moment, how did you get in here? BYTES Never mind that, I want my man! TREVES He's still very sick. Please come downstairs with me. I'll explain the situation. BYTES (shouting) DON'T... Don't muck me about. You've had plenty of time to fix him up, and he's leaving with me, NOW. Do you understand me? Now, Mr. Treves. We had a bargain! TREVES You misunderstood. This man suffered a severe fall, if you take my meaning. He's my patient now and I must do what... BYTES Pull the other one, why don't you! We made a deal! TREVES I know what you've done to him and he's never going back to that. BYTES He's a freak! That's how they live. We're partners, him and I, business partners. You're willfully deprivin' me of my livlihood! TREVES All you do is profit from another man's misery! BYTES You think you're better 'n me? YOU wanted the freak to show all your doctor chums and make a name for yourself, you guv. So I gave him to you. On trust, in the name of science! And now I want him back. TREVES You don't own this man! BYTES I want him back! TREVES So you can beat him? So you can starve him? A dog in the street would fare better with you! BYTES I've got my rights, damn you, and I'm going to the authorities! CARR (V.O.) Well, go to the authorities... Now we see Carr Gomm standing above them, at the top of the stairs. CARR By all means do so. In fact, I'll fetch them myself. I'm quite sure they'd be very interested in your story, as well as ours. Livid, Bytes looks from Carr Gomm to Treves, at a loss for words. TREVES Now I think we really do understand one another. BYTES (venomously) Right... Right. He backs slowly down to the landing eyeing Treves and Carr Gomm. At the landing he casually turns and disappears down more stairs. Treves turns and gazes at Carr Gomm. CARR Singularly unpleasant chap... uh... I don't suppose there would be any harm in my meeting your... patient, Mr. Treves. TREVES (gratefully) Thank you very much Sir. Shall we say in a few days then? CARR Shall we say two o'clock tomorrow afternoon? TREVES (slightly taken aback) Wh... whatever is most convenient for you, sir. CARR Two o'clock then... you know Treves... It seems this acquaintance of yours has become rather more than just an acquaintance. TREVES ...Yes, Sir. They part company. We follow Treves down the stairs. TREVES (muttering) Two o'clock? Then we follow Carr Gomm to his office door. He stops short. CARR (mumbling out loud) Elephant Man? I don't want to meet an Elephant Man. HALLWAYS - THE LONDON (NIGHT) Again, the hospital is closing down for the night. Lights go off in each hallway. The staff is vacating the hospital. As the last light goes off, we hear the great iron door slam shut. TREVES' HOUSE - BEDROOM (NIGHT) Anne is at her dressing table, brushing out her hair. She is in a very flattering dressing gown, ready to turn in. We see her reflected in the mirror as well as Treves who is in his robe in the background seated at his side of their bed, deep in thought. Anne looks at Treves and smiles affectionately. ANNE (coyly) Freddie? Getting no response she renews her efforts. ANNE Freddie?... Freddie, don't look so discouraged. TREVES I shouldn't be. We made great progress today. I taught him to repeat a few basic phrases. He did rather well, too, but I had to lead him every step of the way. Though frankly, at times I was unsure of who was leading whom. ANNE What do you mean? TREVES Well, I wasn't sure whether he was parroting me because that's all he was capable of, or whether he sensed that that's all I wanted to hear, and he was trying to please me. ANNE But I thought you said that he was rather... simple? TREVES He is. I mean, I've always thought he was. I think he must be. Is he simple? Or is that just something I've wished upon him to make things simpler for myself? Anne puts down the brush and rises. ANNE Frederick, why are you so interested in this particular case? TREVES I don't know. I can't explain it. If this is an intelligent man, trapped in the body of a monster, then I'm under a moral obligation to help free that mind, free that spirit as best I can, to help him live as full and content a life as possible. But! If he's an imbecile, who's body I can't treat and who's mind I can't touch, well, then my obligation is discharged. They can put him where they will; he won't be bothered, I won't be bothered, and everyone's conscience can remain free and untroubled. And that is my dilemma... what is in his mind? Anne, sympathizing with his concerns goes to him and puts her arms around him. ANNE Perhaps you're just polishing a stone, endowing this Elephant Man with qualities he doesn't possess? TREVES (impatiently) And what qualities are those? Intelligence or stupidity? ANNE (slightly hurt) I'm sure I don't know, Freddie. She releases Treves and lies down. Treves realizes that perhaps he has been unkind. TREVES I'm sorry... I don't know either. I just don't know. ANNE Well, these things take time. TREVES I've only got until two o'clock tomorrow afternoon, when Carr Gomm meets him. Somehow, between now and then I've got to make John Merrick at least seem like an intelligent man... Why am I fooling myself? Nothing short of John delivering the Sermon on the Mount is going to sway Carr Gomm... Anne sits back up and gently places her hand over Treves' mouth. As she does so she leans forward and turns out the light. ISOLATION WARD Merrick is propped up in bed. Suddenly the door bursts open. The Night Porter, an arm around a drunken giggling tart, stands in the doorway. As soon as the Charwoman sees Merrick, she screams as does Merrick, and she wriggles free, making for the stairs. The Night Porter watches her go and then turns to Merrick laughing noisily. He then pulls the door shut with a bang. Merrick, very frightened, crawls down into his hiding place. BEDROOM (MORNING) We see Anne alone in bed, asleep. Treves is finished dressing and leaves the room. The sound of the door closing awakens Anne. She looks around for Treves. A clock reads 5:30. ISOLATION WARD Merrick's disguise hangs on the wall. MERRICK (V.O.) The Lord is my shepherd, I shall not want, he maketh me to lie down in green pastures; He leadeth me beside still waters. He restoreth my soul: He Guideth me in the paths of righteousness... TREVES Righteousness... MERRICK (V.O.) Righteousness for his namesake. WE NOW SEE TREVES AND MERRICK TREVES Very good, very good. Now, when your visitor comes today I want you to say it exactly the way you said it just now. I will introduce him to you and you will say the words you've learned. If you have any trouble with any of the words, I'll help you. I'm sure you'll be just fine. If you do as well for him as you've done for me these last two days, then I'm sure our visitor will be very pleased. Now, let's go through the whole thing again, shall we? I will say "May I introduce you to Mr. Carr Gomm." And you will say... MERRICK Hello, my name is John Merrick. I am very pleased to meet you! HALLWAY Treves and Carr Gomm are speaking together as they walk along. TREVES It's only a physical problem. He has trouble with certain sounds because of the constrictive deformity of the mouth. But he can talk, and has a great eagerness to make contact with people who will let him. So if you have any difficulty understanding what he is saying, just tell me and I'll make it clear. CARR Speaking is one thing, Treves, but can the man comprehend? Treves cannot easily answer this question. TREVES ...As I said, it's only a physical problem... but I do feel that Mr. Merrick is very flattered that you're taking the time and trouble to meet him, and he's most anxious to make a good impression, so he might seem rather nervous. CARR He needn't. I have no desire to cause him any discomfort. Did you make those inquiries we spoke about? TREVES Yes, I spoke to both the British Home and Royal Hospital for Incurables. I'm afraid that they weren't very encouraging, but they said they'd bring it up at their next committee meeting, so we should have their answers shortly. CARR Fine, fine. You know, your dedication to this patient is an inspiring thing, Treves. But you must remember that this is a hospital, and there are many patients here. Patients who can be made well, and you owe them your first consideration. Just don't become so obsessed, old man, that you begin to neglect them. Carr Gomm starts up the stairs. Treves remains behind, watching him for a moment, then follows. ISOLATION WARD Merrick is standing beside his disguise on its hook. He nervously smooths the cloak down, repositions the Bible on the bedside table and smooths the cloak again. He looks at the door, expecting it to open. It doesn't. His hands smooths the cloak over and over again. Voices can be heard outside the door. Merrick freezes. There are two raps at the door. Merrick flinches, clutching the cloak. The raps are repeated. He pulls himself together and walks to the middle of the room. He takes a deep breath and closes his eyes. MERRICK Come in. The door opens and Treves and Carr Gomm enter. Carr Gomm's eyes are rivited on Merrick, but he contains his shock. Merrick is breathing unevenly, his eyes still closed. Treves goes to him and touches his shoulder. Merrick opens his eyes and looks up at Treves. Treves turns to Carr Gomm, as does Merrick. Carr Gomm lowers his eyes. TREVES John, may I introduce you to Sir Carr Gomm. MERRICK Hello... my name is John Merrick. I am very pleased to meet you. Carr Gomm, still shaken, instinctively offers his hand. CARR I'm very... pleased to meet you. Before Carr Gomm can withdraw his hand, Merrick grasps it with his left hand. There is an uncomfortable silence. Merrick releases it. Carr Gomn, nervously clears his throat. CARR How are you feeling today? MERRICK I feel much better. Thank you for asking. And you? CARR I'm feeling very fit, thank you. How is your bronchitis? MERRICK I feel much better. Thank you. CARR Are you comfortable here? MERRICK Everyone has been very kind. I am extremely grateful. TREVES Mr. Merrick likes the food here. Don't you John? MERRICK Oh yes! It is much better than what I am used to. CARR Oh yes? TREVES (after a pause) And what was that, John? MERRICK Potatoes... There is another agonizing silence. TREVES (to Carr Gomm) ...Yes potatoes... but... MERRICK But the variety of food here is very pleasing... I commend you. CARR (after a pause) I understand that you were beaten? Merrick is at a loss. This is not part of the expected scenario. DIERRICK Oh no, everyone has been very kind. CARR No, I meant in your former situation. Merrick doesn't seem to understand. MERRICK I'm feeling much better now... Carr Gomm stares levelly at Treves for a moment, then asks Merrick: CARR Tell me, how do you like Mr. Treves? As a teacher? Treves stiffens. MERRICK ...I... everyone has been very kind to me. CARR Of course. How long did you and Mr. Treves prepare for this interview? Merrick looks at Treves for guidance, but Treves cannot look him in the eye. MERRICK ...everyone has been very kind. CARR Yes, of course... Well, it's been a pleasure meeting you, Mr. Merrick. Good day. TREVES (to John) Thank you, John. You did very well. Treves and Carr Gomm go out the door onto the landing. Merrick sees his chance escaping him and tries to recapture their attention. MERRICK (his voice is gaining strength) The Lord is my shepherd, I shall not want. He maketh me to lie down in green pastures... (he continues through the following dialogue) Treves and Carr Gomm are alone on the landing, speaking quietly. CARR It was a nice try, Treves, but the man is so obviously mouthing your words. TREVES Yes, I'm very sorry to have wasted your time, sir. I just felt that I had to do anything I could to protect him. CARR I'm sorry too. He simply doesn't belong here. He's be much happier somewhere else, where he could be constantly looked after. Believe me, Frederick, it's better that it worked out this way. Good day. Merrick has come to the end of what Treves taught him to say. He makes one last, desperate attempt to be heard. Treves, disheartened, stands on the landing as Carr Gomm starts down the stairs. MERRICK (V.O.) (now full voice) Yea, though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I will fear no evil, for Thou art with me; Thy rod and Thy staff, they comfort me... Treves is staring, open-mouthed, back into the room. Carr Gomm looks up at him. CARR What is it, Treves? MERRICK (V.O.) Thou preparest a table before me in the presence of mine enemies, Thou anointest my head with oil... TREVES I didn't teach him that part! Treves rushes back into the room, followed by Carr Gomm. MERRICK My cup runneth over. Surely goodness and loving kindness shall follow me all the days of my life, and I shall dwell in the house of the Lord forever. There is a long silence as all three men stare at each other. TREVES How did you, know the rest? I never taught you the rest of it. CARR I don't understand. TREVES Tell me, John, how did you know the rest of the 23rd Psalm? MERRICK (hesitantly) I... I used to read the Bible every day. I know it very well. The Bible, and the Book of Common Prayer. The 23rd Psalm is very beautiful. ISOLATION WARD A few minutes later. We hear voices inside the room. CARR (V.O.) It was a great pleasure to meet you, Mr. Merrick. MERRICK I am very pleased to meet you. CARR I hope we can talk together again sometime. Good day. The door opens and Carr Gomm and Treves come out. TREVES (to Merrick) I'll be right back. He closes the door. CARR I want to see you in my office as soon as you're through up here. We've a good deal to discuss. He starts down the stairs. TREVES Of course, sir. Thank you, thank you very much. Carr Gomm stops on the stairs. CARR Treves. Well done. TREVES Not me, sir. Mr. Merrick. He succeeded in spite of my shortsightedness. ISOLATION WARD Merrick is on the bed, propped up by pillows. The door opens. Treves comes in, shuts the door and leans against it. They look at each other for a moment. TREVES Why did you let me go on like that, teaching you what you already knew? Why didn't you tell me you could read? MERRICK You did not ask me. TREVES I never thought to ask. How can you ever forgive me? MERRICK Oh, no do not say that. You have been so kind to me. I was afraid to say too much. People always want me to be quiet. You wanted me to speak, but I was afraid. Forgive me. TREVES We do have a lot to talk about, don't we? CARR GOMM'S OFFICE Carr Gomm is seated at the window, looking out silently. There is a knock at the door and Treves enters. He quietly closes the door and walks to the window. Carr Gomm never moves. CARR Can you imagine what his life has been like? TREVES Yes, I think I can. CARR No you can't. You can't begin to know, no one can. Carr Gomm suddenly stands and faces Treves. CARR You are quite right, Treves, this is an exceptional case. And I quite agree that the committee should see Mr. Merrick. TREVES I could easily arrange... CARR No, not that way. Broadneck and the others don't like to deal with patients directly. It makes them queasy... Do you have any photographs of Mr. Merrick? TREVES Well, yes. CARR Excellent. We shall present them, along with the other particulars of the case to the committee. I want them to see, exactly, how horribly his body has been affected. You and I shall vouch for his inner qualities. TREVES Do you think they'll go along with us? CARR Of course they will. They're reasonable men. ISOLATION WARD Merrick is in bed, very tired. It's been an exhausting day. Suddenly the door opens and Mothershead comes into the room. Merrick looks up at her very apprehensively. She walks over to the bed, picks up the Bible from the table, opens it and hands it to Merrick. MOTHERSHEAD Read it. Merrick looks down at the Bible. MERRICK Thou heardest my voice; hide not thine ear at my breathing, At my cry. Mothershead backs slowly to the door, deeply disturbed. She stares at Merrick for a moment. MOTHERSHEAD Credit where credit is due. You'll have the paper every morning at breakfast. She quickly turns and exits. Merrick looks down at the Bible. It is open to "Lamentations". HALLWAY - THE LONDON (NIGHT) As before the lights are going off in one hallway after another. The hallways are empty, dark and silent. We hear the great iron door close with a bang. ISOLATION WARD (NIGHT) Merrick is in his bed as always. He holds the portrait of the beautiful woman, gazing at it longingly. He hears a door close far away in the silence of the hospital. Suddenly we hear the heavy footfalls of the Night Porter's boots. As they get louder and louder we move slowly closer to Merrick's face. The sound is very close now, and Merrick's eyes are visibly agitated. Finally, the door bursts open and the Night Porter is standing there. He stares malevolently at Merrick for a long moment and then walks to him menacingly. NIGHT PORTER I hear you have some trouble sleepin'... He grabs Merrick fiercely by the hair and jerks his head back. Merrick immediately starts to wheeze and gasp. NIGHT PORTER Head's too heavy, eh? He pulls Merrick all the way down onto the bed, so that he is prone, struggling for breath. NIGHT PORTER And I heard a nasty rumor about you; I heard you can talk but you can't, can you... can you... can you?... MERRICK (struggling) Noooo! The Night Porter is as first surprised, and then pleased at the desperate sound. NIGHT PORTER No... No you can't! One word about me out of that stinking cakehole... Just ONE word, and you'll have no trouble at sleepin'... no trouble at all. You understand me? Do you!! MERRICK (croaking) Yyyesss. Satisfied, the Night Porter rights Merrick who is just able to catch his breath. The Night Porter smiles and pats Merrick on the shoulder. NIGHT PORTER There now, that's better, i'n' it? HALLWAY Treves and Carr Gomm are on their way to the committee meeting, confident of their position. Treves is holding a folder, and Carr Gomm is looking at the photographs of Merrick. CARR As far as I can see, the only obstacle might be Broadneck. He has enormous influence over the others, very old school, not an easy man to impress. In any case, if worse does come to worse, we still have the British and Royal Homes to fall back on, don't we. Treves is silent. They stop. CARR Don't we? TREVES No, we don't. Their committees have informed me that they're unwilling to take Mr. Merrick, even if they were supplied with funds. They don't want

hour

How many times the word 'hour' appears in the text?

you? He puts the bowl down again and goes back to Merrick, who seems very upset at leaving his hiding place. TREVES Now please, John, you must do as I say. Come up from there. He starts to help Merrick up, but Merrick just presses himself farther back in the corner, still babbling. There are two raps at the door. Treves goes to it and lets Mothershead in. MOTHERSHEAD Good morning, Mr. Treves. It'll be his bath-time soon. Has he eaten? TREVES Not quite yet, Mrs. Mothershead. There seems to be some difficulty this morning. They both look at the bed. Merrick has almost disappeared under it. MOTHERSHEAD Won't come out, eh? TREVES No, he's very upset about something. MOTHERSHEAD Just being obstinate, sir. I'll handle it. She goes to Merrick and takes hold of his left wrist. MOTHERSHEAD Alright, my son, none of this fuss. Come up from there, this instant. She starts to force him up from the floor. Merrick is moaning now, still trying to get away. TREVES No! Don't pull at him like that. We don't want to frighten him more than he already is. By this time Mothershead has almost got him back on the bed. MOTHERSHEAD Honestly, sir, you must be very firm with this sort. Otherwise they'd lay about on the floor gibbering all day long. All he understands is a good smack. They help Merrick settle back on the pillow. Merrick is still making desperate, unintelligible sounds. TREVES He's had his share of "smacks", Mothershead. I expect that's what drives him under the bed. We must use patience and understanding with this man. MOTHERSHEAD Perhaps you've got the time for that, Mr. Treves, I certainly don't. I've got an entire hospital to look after, and you have your real patients. Don't waste your time with him sir, it's like talking to a wall. I don't mean to be harsh, but truthfully what can you do for him? I'll be back later for his bath. And Mr. Carr Gomm would like to see you when you have a moment. Good day sir. She exits. Treves shuts the door behind her and turns back to the bed. TREVES (to himself) What good am I to you...? He goes to the bed and sits down in front of Merrick, angered by his own seeming uselessness in the situation. TREVES ...What is my purpose? ...It's so important that I understand you. I want to help you, I want to be your doctor... (directly to Merrick) but I can't help you unless you help me, unless I know what you are feeling. I believe there's something back there, there's something you want to say, but I've got to understand you. Do you understand me? Merrick hesitates, then starts babbling again. TREVES No! You are going to talk to me! We are going to show them! We're going to show them that you're not a wall. We are going to talk! Do you understand? Nod your head if you understand me! Slowly Merrick nods yes. TREVES You do understand me! You understand. Now you're going to say it. I've got to hear how you say things. Now, very slowly, say "yes." Treves carefully mouths the word. TREVES "Yes." Merrick is still hesitant, from years of fear, but his eyes betray a growing excitement. Slowly, he tries to talk, his voice a tremulous whisper. MERRICK Yyyy... Yyye... yyyess. TREVES (grabbing Merrick's arm) Yes John! Throughout their dialogue, Merrick is still very garbled, but he no longer babbles. He makes a great effort to speak slowly, to form words the way Treves forms them, to be understood. MERRICK ...Yyes TREVES Yyyess. MERRICK Yyess. TREVES That's much better. I could understand that "yes". MERRICK (pleased) Yes! TREVES Very good! Oh yes! Now listen. I'm going to say some things to you and I want you to repeat them... um... I want you to say them back to me. Do you understand? I'm going to say some things to you and I want you to say them back to me. Do you understand? MERRICK Yes. TREVES Excellent! Now, say... "Hello" MERRICK Hello... TREVES My name is... MERRICK My... name is... TREVES John Merrick. MERRICK John... Merrick TREVES Say "Merrick". MERRICK Merrick... TREVES Say "Mmmerrick." MERRICK Mmmerrick. TREVES Say "Mmmerrick." MERRICK Mmmerrick. TREVES Well, that's alright. I understand you. Now, say the whole thing again, Hello ... MERRICK (haltingly) Hello... my name is... John Merrick. DISSOLVE TO HALLWAY Mrs. Mothershead comes out of the kitchen with a supper tray and walks down the hall, passing the open ward door. We see nurses serving patients their supper. Nora comes out of the ward with a tray which she holds tightly against her. A bowl of soup is spilling on her apron. She catches up with Mothershead. They speak as they walk. NORA Oh, Mrs. Mothershead, please forgive my behavior yesterday. I'm sorry if you're having to do extra work on my account. It was just seeing it... MOTHERSHEAD Patients here are not "its". They are either "he's" or "she's", but that's alright, Ireland. This one's going to be more work for all of us. Good God girl! Mind your broth. Mothershead continues on. Nora guiltily watches her go. ISOLATION WARD Treves and Merrick are absorbed in their work. A knock comes at the door. TREVES Come in. Mothershead enters. TREVES Why, my dear Mrs. Mothershead, how good of you to join us. Mr. Merrick, will you please introduce yourself? MERRICK (hesitantly) Hello, my name is John Merrick. MOTHERSHEAD Good Lord, Mr. Treves! TREVES (exuberantly) We've made tremendous strides today, Mothershead. He listens and repeats with great attention, and this certainly isn't easy for him. MOTHERSHEAD Parrots can do as much, Mr. Treves. It's all very nice, but I don't see the point. You know they won't let him stay here. TREVES (lowering his voice) I'm sure that if Mr. Merrick made a good impression on the hospital committee they'd see that he's the exception to their rule. Now I'm not expecting miracles. I'm not saying he'll be able to read or write, but I do think that I can get him to speak for himself. I'm going to arrange things with Carr Gomm right now. (to Merrick) That was very good, John, very good. That's all for today. We shall do some more tomorrow. Mothershead? Mrs. Mothershead sets the tray down beside Merrick. TREVES I'll see you soon. He and Mothershead exit. Merrick watches the door close. He sighs quietly, looks about, and sees the Bible on the bedside table. He picks it up and, gently runs his fingers over the cover. RECEIVING ROOM - THE LONDON There is total pandemonium in the receiving room. The room is filled with screaming men, women and children. Two drunken women have been fighting with broken bottles and are now covered with blood and cuts. The women are still hysterical, one minute they're sobbing, then in an instant screaming and intent upon fighting again. The crowd keeps them apart. Two Bobbies stand in the background making no move to intercede. To the side we see Bytes watching everything. It is still too violent a scene for the Nurses to come to the women's aide and they stand up in the front of the room waiting. Bytes makes his way along the side of the crowd waiting for a chance to get behind the Nurses and on into the hospital. Now the women begin sobbing again and things quiet some. The Nurses come forward into the crowd. Bytes moves over closer to the hallways. When the Nurses have all gone into the crowd he seizes the chance and disappears into the hospital. CUT TO: Bytes appears and walks down hospital hallway looking about. CARR GOMM'S OFFICE The door opens and Treves enters. CARR (V.O.) Ah, Treves... Treves sits in the armchair. Carr Gomm is sitting at his desk. CARR Have you contacted the British Home and the Royal Hospital? TREVES Ah, no sir. I had planned to see them in the morning. CARR Good! How is the patient? TREVES He's doing very well. In fact that's why I came to see you. I think that if I were to present Mr. Merrick to the hospital committee, then they would have a chance to see for themselves not only the extraordinary nature of the disease, but of the man as well. If the committee had a chance to speak with him, hear him say a few words for himself, I'm sure they would see him as a patient, rather than as a violation of the rules. CARR A few words? I thought he was imbecile? TREVES Well sir, perhaps I should explain... CARR I really don't think that's necessary Treves. I'm quite sure the committee will be able to make an equitable decision on the merits of the case, such as they are. TREVES I don't agree. No one can make a reasonable decision about this man's future without at least meeting him. No doctor would presume to diagnose a patient he had never met. CARR No, Treves, it's out of the question. Now if it was up to me, I'd say "Certainly, let's meet the fellow, by all means," I'm sorry, I simply can't speak for the other members of the committee. TREVES Then will you meet him, as a representative of the committee. CARR Mr. Treves, it's out of the question. I want to hear as soon as possible what the other hospitals can do. I'm sorry. HALLWAY - STAIRCASE - THE LONDON We see Treves leave Carr Gomm's office and walk toward us to the stairwell. As Treves begins down the stairs, he sees Bytes on the next landing coming up. Bytes spots him and goes toward him. BYTES I want my man back. TREVES Just a moment, how did you get in here? BYTES Never mind that, I want my man! TREVES He's still very sick. Please come downstairs with me. I'll explain the situation. BYTES (shouting) DON'T... Don't muck me about. You've had plenty of time to fix him up, and he's leaving with me, NOW. Do you understand me? Now, Mr. Treves. We had a bargain! TREVES You misunderstood. This man suffered a severe fall, if you take my meaning. He's my patient now and I must do what... BYTES Pull the other one, why don't you! We made a deal! TREVES I know what you've done to him and he's never going back to that. BYTES He's a freak! That's how they live. We're partners, him and I, business partners. You're willfully deprivin' me of my livlihood! TREVES All you do is profit from another man's misery! BYTES You think you're better 'n me? YOU wanted the freak to show all your doctor chums and make a name for yourself, you guv. So I gave him to you. On trust, in the name of science! And now I want him back. TREVES You don't own this man! BYTES I want him back! TREVES So you can beat him? So you can starve him? A dog in the street would fare better with you! BYTES I've got my rights, damn you, and I'm going to the authorities! CARR (V.O.) Well, go to the authorities... Now we see Carr Gomm standing above them, at the top of the stairs. CARR By all means do so. In fact, I'll fetch them myself. I'm quite sure they'd be very interested in your story, as well as ours. Livid, Bytes looks from Carr Gomm to Treves, at a loss for words. TREVES Now I think we really do understand one another. BYTES (venomously) Right... Right. He backs slowly down to the landing eyeing Treves and Carr Gomm. At the landing he casually turns and disappears down more stairs. Treves turns and gazes at Carr Gomm. CARR Singularly unpleasant chap... uh... I don't suppose there would be any harm in my meeting your... patient, Mr. Treves. TREVES (gratefully) Thank you very much Sir. Shall we say in a few days then? CARR Shall we say two o'clock tomorrow afternoon? TREVES (slightly taken aback) Wh... whatever is most convenient for you, sir. CARR Two o'clock then... you know Treves... It seems this acquaintance of yours has become rather more than just an acquaintance. TREVES ...Yes, Sir. They part company. We follow Treves down the stairs. TREVES (muttering) Two o'clock? Then we follow Carr Gomm to his office door. He stops short. CARR (mumbling out loud) Elephant Man? I don't want to meet an Elephant Man. HALLWAYS - THE LONDON (NIGHT) Again, the hospital is closing down for the night. Lights go off in each hallway. The staff is vacating the hospital. As the last light goes off, we hear the great iron door slam shut. TREVES' HOUSE - BEDROOM (NIGHT) Anne is at her dressing table, brushing out her hair. She is in a very flattering dressing gown, ready to turn in. We see her reflected in the mirror as well as Treves who is in his robe in the background seated at his side of their bed, deep in thought. Anne looks at Treves and smiles affectionately. ANNE (coyly) Freddie? Getting no response she renews her efforts. ANNE Freddie?... Freddie, don't look so discouraged. TREVES I shouldn't be. We made great progress today. I taught him to repeat a few basic phrases. He did rather well, too, but I had to lead him every step of the way. Though frankly, at times I was unsure of who was leading whom. ANNE What do you mean? TREVES Well, I wasn't sure whether he was parroting me because that's all he was capable of, or whether he sensed that that's all I wanted to hear, and he was trying to please me. ANNE But I thought you said that he was rather... simple? TREVES He is. I mean, I've always thought he was. I think he must be. Is he simple? Or is that just something I've wished upon him to make things simpler for myself? Anne puts down the brush and rises. ANNE Frederick, why are you so interested in this particular case? TREVES I don't know. I can't explain it. If this is an intelligent man, trapped in the body of a monster, then I'm under a moral obligation to help free that mind, free that spirit as best I can, to help him live as full and content a life as possible. But! If he's an imbecile, who's body I can't treat and who's mind I can't touch, well, then my obligation is discharged. They can put him where they will; he won't be bothered, I won't be bothered, and everyone's conscience can remain free and untroubled. And that is my dilemma... what is in his mind? Anne, sympathizing with his concerns goes to him and puts her arms around him. ANNE Perhaps you're just polishing a stone, endowing this Elephant Man with qualities he doesn't possess? TREVES (impatiently) And what qualities are those? Intelligence or stupidity? ANNE (slightly hurt) I'm sure I don't know, Freddie. She releases Treves and lies down. Treves realizes that perhaps he has been unkind. TREVES I'm sorry... I don't know either. I just don't know. ANNE Well, these things take time. TREVES I've only got until two o'clock tomorrow afternoon, when Carr Gomm meets him. Somehow, between now and then I've got to make John Merrick at least seem like an intelligent man... Why am I fooling myself? Nothing short of John delivering the Sermon on the Mount is going to sway Carr Gomm... Anne sits back up and gently places her hand over Treves' mouth. As she does so she leans forward and turns out the light. ISOLATION WARD Merrick is propped up in bed. Suddenly the door bursts open. The Night Porter, an arm around a drunken giggling tart, stands in the doorway. As soon as the Charwoman sees Merrick, she screams as does Merrick, and she wriggles free, making for the stairs. The Night Porter watches her go and then turns to Merrick laughing noisily. He then pulls the door shut with a bang. Merrick, very frightened, crawls down into his hiding place. BEDROOM (MORNING) We see Anne alone in bed, asleep. Treves is finished dressing and leaves the room. The sound of the door closing awakens Anne. She looks around for Treves. A clock reads 5:30. ISOLATION WARD Merrick's disguise hangs on the wall. MERRICK (V.O.) The Lord is my shepherd, I shall not want, he maketh me to lie down in green pastures; He leadeth me beside still waters. He restoreth my soul: He Guideth me in the paths of righteousness... TREVES Righteousness... MERRICK (V.O.) Righteousness for his namesake. WE NOW SEE TREVES AND MERRICK TREVES Very good, very good. Now, when your visitor comes today I want you to say it exactly the way you said it just now. I will introduce him to you and you will say the words you've learned. If you have any trouble with any of the words, I'll help you. I'm sure you'll be just fine. If you do as well for him as you've done for me these last two days, then I'm sure our visitor will be very pleased. Now, let's go through the whole thing again, shall we? I will say "May I introduce you to Mr. Carr Gomm." And you will say... MERRICK Hello, my name is John Merrick. I am very pleased to meet you! HALLWAY Treves and Carr Gomm are speaking together as they walk along. TREVES It's only a physical problem. He has trouble with certain sounds because of the constrictive deformity of the mouth. But he can talk, and has a great eagerness to make contact with people who will let him. So if you have any difficulty understanding what he is saying, just tell me and I'll make it clear. CARR Speaking is one thing, Treves, but can the man comprehend? Treves cannot easily answer this question. TREVES ...As I said, it's only a physical problem... but I do feel that Mr. Merrick is very flattered that you're taking the time and trouble to meet him, and he's most anxious to make a good impression, so he might seem rather nervous. CARR He needn't. I have no desire to cause him any discomfort. Did you make those inquiries we spoke about? TREVES Yes, I spoke to both the British Home and Royal Hospital for Incurables. I'm afraid that they weren't very encouraging, but they said they'd bring it up at their next committee meeting, so we should have their answers shortly. CARR Fine, fine. You know, your dedication to this patient is an inspiring thing, Treves. But you must remember that this is a hospital, and there are many patients here. Patients who can be made well, and you owe them your first consideration. Just don't become so obsessed, old man, that you begin to neglect them. Carr Gomm starts up the stairs. Treves remains behind, watching him for a moment, then follows. ISOLATION WARD Merrick is standing beside his disguise on its hook. He nervously smooths the cloak down, repositions the Bible on the bedside table and smooths the cloak again. He looks at the door, expecting it to open. It doesn't. His hands smooths the cloak over and over again. Voices can be heard outside the door. Merrick freezes. There are two raps at the door. Merrick flinches, clutching the cloak. The raps are repeated. He pulls himself together and walks to the middle of the room. He takes a deep breath and closes his eyes. MERRICK Come in. The door opens and Treves and Carr Gomm enter. Carr Gomm's eyes are rivited on Merrick, but he contains his shock. Merrick is breathing unevenly, his eyes still closed. Treves goes to him and touches his shoulder. Merrick opens his eyes and looks up at Treves. Treves turns to Carr Gomm, as does Merrick. Carr Gomm lowers his eyes. TREVES John, may I introduce you to Sir Carr Gomm. MERRICK Hello... my name is John Merrick. I am very pleased to meet you. Carr Gomm, still shaken, instinctively offers his hand. CARR I'm very... pleased to meet you. Before Carr Gomm can withdraw his hand, Merrick grasps it with his left hand. There is an uncomfortable silence. Merrick releases it. Carr Gomn, nervously clears his throat. CARR How are you feeling today? MERRICK I feel much better. Thank you for asking. And you? CARR I'm feeling very fit, thank you. How is your bronchitis? MERRICK I feel much better. Thank you. CARR Are you comfortable here? MERRICK Everyone has been very kind. I am extremely grateful. TREVES Mr. Merrick likes the food here. Don't you John? MERRICK Oh yes! It is much better than what I am used to. CARR Oh yes? TREVES (after a pause) And what was that, John? MERRICK Potatoes... There is another agonizing silence. TREVES (to Carr Gomm) ...Yes potatoes... but... MERRICK But the variety of food here is very pleasing... I commend you. CARR (after a pause) I understand that you were beaten? Merrick is at a loss. This is not part of the expected scenario. DIERRICK Oh no, everyone has been very kind. CARR No, I meant in your former situation. Merrick doesn't seem to understand. MERRICK I'm feeling much better now... Carr Gomm stares levelly at Treves for a moment, then asks Merrick: CARR Tell me, how do you like Mr. Treves? As a teacher? Treves stiffens. MERRICK ...I... everyone has been very kind to me. CARR Of course. How long did you and Mr. Treves prepare for this interview? Merrick looks at Treves for guidance, but Treves cannot look him in the eye. MERRICK ...everyone has been very kind. CARR Yes, of course... Well, it's been a pleasure meeting you, Mr. Merrick. Good day. TREVES (to John) Thank you, John. You did very well. Treves and Carr Gomm go out the door onto the landing. Merrick sees his chance escaping him and tries to recapture their attention. MERRICK (his voice is gaining strength) The Lord is my shepherd, I shall not want. He maketh me to lie down in green pastures... (he continues through the following dialogue) Treves and Carr Gomm are alone on the landing, speaking quietly. CARR It was a nice try, Treves, but the man is so obviously mouthing your words. TREVES Yes, I'm very sorry to have wasted your time, sir. I just felt that I had to do anything I could to protect him. CARR I'm sorry too. He simply doesn't belong here. He's be much happier somewhere else, where he could be constantly looked after. Believe me, Frederick, it's better that it worked out this way. Good day. Merrick has come to the end of what Treves taught him to say. He makes one last, desperate attempt to be heard. Treves, disheartened, stands on the landing as Carr Gomm starts down the stairs. MERRICK (V.O.) (now full voice) Yea, though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I will fear no evil, for Thou art with me; Thy rod and Thy staff, they comfort me... Treves is staring, open-mouthed, back into the room. Carr Gomm looks up at him. CARR What is it, Treves? MERRICK (V.O.) Thou preparest a table before me in the presence of mine enemies, Thou anointest my head with oil... TREVES I didn't teach him that part! Treves rushes back into the room, followed by Carr Gomm. MERRICK My cup runneth over. Surely goodness and loving kindness shall follow me all the days of my life, and I shall dwell in the house of the Lord forever. There is a long silence as all three men stare at each other. TREVES How did you, know the rest? I never taught you the rest of it. CARR I don't understand. TREVES Tell me, John, how did you know the rest of the 23rd Psalm? MERRICK (hesitantly) I... I used to read the Bible every day. I know it very well. The Bible, and the Book of Common Prayer. The 23rd Psalm is very beautiful. ISOLATION WARD A few minutes later. We hear voices inside the room. CARR (V.O.) It was a great pleasure to meet you, Mr. Merrick. MERRICK I am very pleased to meet you. CARR I hope we can talk together again sometime. Good day. The door opens and Carr Gomm and Treves come out. TREVES (to Merrick) I'll be right back. He closes the door. CARR I want to see you in my office as soon as you're through up here. We've a good deal to discuss. He starts down the stairs. TREVES Of course, sir. Thank you, thank you very much. Carr Gomm stops on the stairs. CARR Treves. Well done. TREVES Not me, sir. Mr. Merrick. He succeeded in spite of my shortsightedness. ISOLATION WARD Merrick is on the bed, propped up by pillows. The door opens. Treves comes in, shuts the door and leans against it. They look at each other for a moment. TREVES Why did you let me go on like that, teaching you what you already knew? Why didn't you tell me you could read? MERRICK You did not ask me. TREVES I never thought to ask. How can you ever forgive me? MERRICK Oh, no do not say that. You have been so kind to me. I was afraid to say too much. People always want me to be quiet. You wanted me to speak, but I was afraid. Forgive me. TREVES We do have a lot to talk about, don't we? CARR GOMM'S OFFICE Carr Gomm is seated at the window, looking out silently. There is a knock at the door and Treves enters. He quietly closes the door and walks to the window. Carr Gomm never moves. CARR Can you imagine what his life has been like? TREVES Yes, I think I can. CARR No you can't. You can't begin to know, no one can. Carr Gomm suddenly stands and faces Treves. CARR You are quite right, Treves, this is an exceptional case. And I quite agree that the committee should see Mr. Merrick. TREVES I could easily arrange... CARR No, not that way. Broadneck and the others don't like to deal with patients directly. It makes them queasy... Do you have any photographs of Mr. Merrick? TREVES Well, yes. CARR Excellent. We shall present them, along with the other particulars of the case to the committee. I want them to see, exactly, how horribly his body has been affected. You and I shall vouch for his inner qualities. TREVES Do you think they'll go along with us? CARR Of course they will. They're reasonable men. ISOLATION WARD Merrick is in bed, very tired. It's been an exhausting day. Suddenly the door opens and Mothershead comes into the room. Merrick looks up at her very apprehensively. She walks over to the bed, picks up the Bible from the table, opens it and hands it to Merrick. MOTHERSHEAD Read it. Merrick looks down at the Bible. MERRICK Thou heardest my voice; hide not thine ear at my breathing, At my cry. Mothershead backs slowly to the door, deeply disturbed. She stares at Merrick for a moment. MOTHERSHEAD Credit where credit is due. You'll have the paper every morning at breakfast. She quickly turns and exits. Merrick looks down at the Bible. It is open to "Lamentations". HALLWAY - THE LONDON (NIGHT) As before the lights are going off in one hallway after another. The hallways are empty, dark and silent. We hear the great iron door close with a bang. ISOLATION WARD (NIGHT) Merrick is in his bed as always. He holds the portrait of the beautiful woman, gazing at it longingly. He hears a door close far away in the silence of the hospital. Suddenly we hear the heavy footfalls of the Night Porter's boots. As they get louder and louder we move slowly closer to Merrick's face. The sound is very close now, and Merrick's eyes are visibly agitated. Finally, the door bursts open and the Night Porter is standing there. He stares malevolently at Merrick for a long moment and then walks to him menacingly. NIGHT PORTER I hear you have some trouble sleepin'... He grabs Merrick fiercely by the hair and jerks his head back. Merrick immediately starts to wheeze and gasp. NIGHT PORTER Head's too heavy, eh? He pulls Merrick all the way down onto the bed, so that he is prone, struggling for breath. NIGHT PORTER And I heard a nasty rumor about you; I heard you can talk but you can't, can you... can you... can you?... MERRICK (struggling) Noooo! The Night Porter is as first surprised, and then pleased at the desperate sound. NIGHT PORTER No... No you can't! One word about me out of that stinking cakehole... Just ONE word, and you'll have no trouble at sleepin'... no trouble at all. You understand me? Do you!! MERRICK (croaking) Yyyesss. Satisfied, the Night Porter rights Merrick who is just able to catch his breath. The Night Porter smiles and pats Merrick on the shoulder. NIGHT PORTER There now, that's better, i'n' it? HALLWAY Treves and Carr Gomm are on their way to the committee meeting, confident of their position. Treves is holding a folder, and Carr Gomm is looking at the photographs of Merrick. CARR As far as I can see, the only obstacle might be Broadneck. He has enormous influence over the others, very old school, not an easy man to impress. In any case, if worse does come to worse, we still have the British and Royal Homes to fall back on, don't we. Treves is silent. They stop. CARR Don't we? TREVES No, we don't. Their committees have informed me that they're unwilling to take Mr. Merrick, even if they were supplied with funds. They don't want

point

How many times the word 'point' appears in the text?

you? He puts the bowl down again and goes back to Merrick, who seems very upset at leaving his hiding place. TREVES Now please, John, you must do as I say. Come up from there. He starts to help Merrick up, but Merrick just presses himself farther back in the corner, still babbling. There are two raps at the door. Treves goes to it and lets Mothershead in. MOTHERSHEAD Good morning, Mr. Treves. It'll be his bath-time soon. Has he eaten? TREVES Not quite yet, Mrs. Mothershead. There seems to be some difficulty this morning. They both look at the bed. Merrick has almost disappeared under it. MOTHERSHEAD Won't come out, eh? TREVES No, he's very upset about something. MOTHERSHEAD Just being obstinate, sir. I'll handle it. She goes to Merrick and takes hold of his left wrist. MOTHERSHEAD Alright, my son, none of this fuss. Come up from there, this instant. She starts to force him up from the floor. Merrick is moaning now, still trying to get away. TREVES No! Don't pull at him like that. We don't want to frighten him more than he already is. By this time Mothershead has almost got him back on the bed. MOTHERSHEAD Honestly, sir, you must be very firm with this sort. Otherwise they'd lay about on the floor gibbering all day long. All he understands is a good smack. They help Merrick settle back on the pillow. Merrick is still making desperate, unintelligible sounds. TREVES He's had his share of "smacks", Mothershead. I expect that's what drives him under the bed. We must use patience and understanding with this man. MOTHERSHEAD Perhaps you've got the time for that, Mr. Treves, I certainly don't. I've got an entire hospital to look after, and you have your real patients. Don't waste your time with him sir, it's like talking to a wall. I don't mean to be harsh, but truthfully what can you do for him? I'll be back later for his bath. And Mr. Carr Gomm would like to see you when you have a moment. Good day sir. She exits. Treves shuts the door behind her and turns back to the bed. TREVES (to himself) What good am I to you...? He goes to the bed and sits down in front of Merrick, angered by his own seeming uselessness in the situation. TREVES ...What is my purpose? ...It's so important that I understand you. I want to help you, I want to be your doctor... (directly to Merrick) but I can't help you unless you help me, unless I know what you are feeling. I believe there's something back there, there's something you want to say, but I've got to understand you. Do you understand me? Merrick hesitates, then starts babbling again. TREVES No! You are going to talk to me! We are going to show them! We're going to show them that you're not a wall. We are going to talk! Do you understand? Nod your head if you understand me! Slowly Merrick nods yes. TREVES You do understand me! You understand. Now you're going to say it. I've got to hear how you say things. Now, very slowly, say "yes." Treves carefully mouths the word. TREVES "Yes." Merrick is still hesitant, from years of fear, but his eyes betray a growing excitement. Slowly, he tries to talk, his voice a tremulous whisper. MERRICK Yyyy... Yyye... yyyess. TREVES (grabbing Merrick's arm) Yes John! Throughout their dialogue, Merrick is still very garbled, but he no longer babbles. He makes a great effort to speak slowly, to form words the way Treves forms them, to be understood. MERRICK ...Yyes TREVES Yyyess. MERRICK Yyess. TREVES That's much better. I could understand that "yes". MERRICK (pleased) Yes! TREVES Very good! Oh yes! Now listen. I'm going to say some things to you and I want you to repeat them... um... I want you to say them back to me. Do you understand? I'm going to say some things to you and I want you to say them back to me. Do you understand? MERRICK Yes. TREVES Excellent! Now, say... "Hello" MERRICK Hello... TREVES My name is... MERRICK My... name is... TREVES John Merrick. MERRICK John... Merrick TREVES Say "Merrick". MERRICK Merrick... TREVES Say "Mmmerrick." MERRICK Mmmerrick. TREVES Say "Mmmerrick." MERRICK Mmmerrick. TREVES Well, that's alright. I understand you. Now, say the whole thing again, Hello ... MERRICK (haltingly) Hello... my name is... John Merrick. DISSOLVE TO HALLWAY Mrs. Mothershead comes out of the kitchen with a supper tray and walks down the hall, passing the open ward door. We see nurses serving patients their supper. Nora comes out of the ward with a tray which she holds tightly against her. A bowl of soup is spilling on her apron. She catches up with Mothershead. They speak as they walk. NORA Oh, Mrs. Mothershead, please forgive my behavior yesterday. I'm sorry if you're having to do extra work on my account. It was just seeing it... MOTHERSHEAD Patients here are not "its". They are either "he's" or "she's", but that's alright, Ireland. This one's going to be more work for all of us. Good God girl! Mind your broth. Mothershead continues on. Nora guiltily watches her go. ISOLATION WARD Treves and Merrick are absorbed in their work. A knock comes at the door. TREVES Come in. Mothershead enters. TREVES Why, my dear Mrs. Mothershead, how good of you to join us. Mr. Merrick, will you please introduce yourself? MERRICK (hesitantly) Hello, my name is John Merrick. MOTHERSHEAD Good Lord, Mr. Treves! TREVES (exuberantly) We've made tremendous strides today, Mothershead. He listens and repeats with great attention, and this certainly isn't easy for him. MOTHERSHEAD Parrots can do as much, Mr. Treves. It's all very nice, but I don't see the point. You know they won't let him stay here. TREVES (lowering his voice) I'm sure that if Mr. Merrick made a good impression on the hospital committee they'd see that he's the exception to their rule. Now I'm not expecting miracles. I'm not saying he'll be able to read or write, but I do think that I can get him to speak for himself. I'm going to arrange things with Carr Gomm right now. (to Merrick) That was very good, John, very good. That's all for today. We shall do some more tomorrow. Mothershead? Mrs. Mothershead sets the tray down beside Merrick. TREVES I'll see you soon. He and Mothershead exit. Merrick watches the door close. He sighs quietly, looks about, and sees the Bible on the bedside table. He picks it up and, gently runs his fingers over the cover. RECEIVING ROOM - THE LONDON There is total pandemonium in the receiving room. The room is filled with screaming men, women and children. Two drunken women have been fighting with broken bottles and are now covered with blood and cuts. The women are still hysterical, one minute they're sobbing, then in an instant screaming and intent upon fighting again. The crowd keeps them apart. Two Bobbies stand in the background making no move to intercede. To the side we see Bytes watching everything. It is still too violent a scene for the Nurses to come to the women's aide and they stand up in the front of the room waiting. Bytes makes his way along the side of the crowd waiting for a chance to get behind the Nurses and on into the hospital. Now the women begin sobbing again and things quiet some. The Nurses come forward into the crowd. Bytes moves over closer to the hallways. When the Nurses have all gone into the crowd he seizes the chance and disappears into the hospital. CUT TO: Bytes appears and walks down hospital hallway looking about. CARR GOMM'S OFFICE The door opens and Treves enters. CARR (V.O.) Ah, Treves... Treves sits in the armchair. Carr Gomm is sitting at his desk. CARR Have you contacted the British Home and the Royal Hospital? TREVES Ah, no sir. I had planned to see them in the morning. CARR Good! How is the patient? TREVES He's doing very well. In fact that's why I came to see you. I think that if I were to present Mr. Merrick to the hospital committee, then they would have a chance to see for themselves not only the extraordinary nature of the disease, but of the man as well. If the committee had a chance to speak with him, hear him say a few words for himself, I'm sure they would see him as a patient, rather than as a violation of the rules. CARR A few words? I thought he was imbecile? TREVES Well sir, perhaps I should explain... CARR I really don't think that's necessary Treves. I'm quite sure the committee will be able to make an equitable decision on the merits of the case, such as they are. TREVES I don't agree. No one can make a reasonable decision about this man's future without at least meeting him. No doctor would presume to diagnose a patient he had never met. CARR No, Treves, it's out of the question. Now if it was up to me, I'd say "Certainly, let's meet the fellow, by all means," I'm sorry, I simply can't speak for the other members of the committee. TREVES Then will you meet him, as a representative of the committee. CARR Mr. Treves, it's out of the question. I want to hear as soon as possible what the other hospitals can do. I'm sorry. HALLWAY - STAIRCASE - THE LONDON We see Treves leave Carr Gomm's office and walk toward us to the stairwell. As Treves begins down the stairs, he sees Bytes on the next landing coming up. Bytes spots him and goes toward him. BYTES I want my man back. TREVES Just a moment, how did you get in here? BYTES Never mind that, I want my man! TREVES He's still very sick. Please come downstairs with me. I'll explain the situation. BYTES (shouting) DON'T... Don't muck me about. You've had plenty of time to fix him up, and he's leaving with me, NOW. Do you understand me? Now, Mr. Treves. We had a bargain! TREVES You misunderstood. This man suffered a severe fall, if you take my meaning. He's my patient now and I must do what... BYTES Pull the other one, why don't you! We made a deal! TREVES I know what you've done to him and he's never going back to that. BYTES He's a freak! That's how they live. We're partners, him and I, business partners. You're willfully deprivin' me of my livlihood! TREVES All you do is profit from another man's misery! BYTES You think you're better 'n me? YOU wanted the freak to show all your doctor chums and make a name for yourself, you guv. So I gave him to you. On trust, in the name of science! And now I want him back. TREVES You don't own this man! BYTES I want him back! TREVES So you can beat him? So you can starve him? A dog in the street would fare better with you! BYTES I've got my rights, damn you, and I'm going to the authorities! CARR (V.O.) Well, go to the authorities... Now we see Carr Gomm standing above them, at the top of the stairs. CARR By all means do so. In fact, I'll fetch them myself. I'm quite sure they'd be very interested in your story, as well as ours. Livid, Bytes looks from Carr Gomm to Treves, at a loss for words. TREVES Now I think we really do understand one another. BYTES (venomously) Right... Right. He backs slowly down to the landing eyeing Treves and Carr Gomm. At the landing he casually turns and disappears down more stairs. Treves turns and gazes at Carr Gomm. CARR Singularly unpleasant chap... uh... I don't suppose there would be any harm in my meeting your... patient, Mr. Treves. TREVES (gratefully) Thank you very much Sir. Shall we say in a few days then? CARR Shall we say two o'clock tomorrow afternoon? TREVES (slightly taken aback) Wh... whatever is most convenient for you, sir. CARR Two o'clock then... you know Treves... It seems this acquaintance of yours has become rather more than just an acquaintance. TREVES ...Yes, Sir. They part company. We follow Treves down the stairs. TREVES (muttering) Two o'clock? Then we follow Carr Gomm to his office door. He stops short. CARR (mumbling out loud) Elephant Man? I don't want to meet an Elephant Man. HALLWAYS - THE LONDON (NIGHT) Again, the hospital is closing down for the night. Lights go off in each hallway. The staff is vacating the hospital. As the last light goes off, we hear the great iron door slam shut. TREVES' HOUSE - BEDROOM (NIGHT) Anne is at her dressing table, brushing out her hair. She is in a very flattering dressing gown, ready to turn in. We see her reflected in the mirror as well as Treves who is in his robe in the background seated at his side of their bed, deep in thought. Anne looks at Treves and smiles affectionately. ANNE (coyly) Freddie? Getting no response she renews her efforts. ANNE Freddie?... Freddie, don't look so discouraged. TREVES I shouldn't be. We made great progress today. I taught him to repeat a few basic phrases. He did rather well, too, but I had to lead him every step of the way. Though frankly, at times I was unsure of who was leading whom. ANNE What do you mean? TREVES Well, I wasn't sure whether he was parroting me because that's all he was capable of, or whether he sensed that that's all I wanted to hear, and he was trying to please me. ANNE But I thought you said that he was rather... simple? TREVES He is. I mean, I've always thought he was. I think he must be. Is he simple? Or is that just something I've wished upon him to make things simpler for myself? Anne puts down the brush and rises. ANNE Frederick, why are you so interested in this particular case? TREVES I don't know. I can't explain it. If this is an intelligent man, trapped in the body of a monster, then I'm under a moral obligation to help free that mind, free that spirit as best I can, to help him live as full and content a life as possible. But! If he's an imbecile, who's body I can't treat and who's mind I can't touch, well, then my obligation is discharged. They can put him where they will; he won't be bothered, I won't be bothered, and everyone's conscience can remain free and untroubled. And that is my dilemma... what is in his mind? Anne, sympathizing with his concerns goes to him and puts her arms around him. ANNE Perhaps you're just polishing a stone, endowing this Elephant Man with qualities he doesn't possess? TREVES (impatiently) And what qualities are those? Intelligence or stupidity? ANNE (slightly hurt) I'm sure I don't know, Freddie. She releases Treves and lies down. Treves realizes that perhaps he has been unkind. TREVES I'm sorry... I don't know either. I just don't know. ANNE Well, these things take time. TREVES I've only got until two o'clock tomorrow afternoon, when Carr Gomm meets him. Somehow, between now and then I've got to make John Merrick at least seem like an intelligent man... Why am I fooling myself? Nothing short of John delivering the Sermon on the Mount is going to sway Carr Gomm... Anne sits back up and gently places her hand over Treves' mouth. As she does so she leans forward and turns out the light. ISOLATION WARD Merrick is propped up in bed. Suddenly the door bursts open. The Night Porter, an arm around a drunken giggling tart, stands in the doorway. As soon as the Charwoman sees Merrick, she screams as does Merrick, and she wriggles free, making for the stairs. The Night Porter watches her go and then turns to Merrick laughing noisily. He then pulls the door shut with a bang. Merrick, very frightened, crawls down into his hiding place. BEDROOM (MORNING) We see Anne alone in bed, asleep. Treves is finished dressing and leaves the room. The sound of the door closing awakens Anne. She looks around for Treves. A clock reads 5:30. ISOLATION WARD Merrick's disguise hangs on the wall. MERRICK (V.O.) The Lord is my shepherd, I shall not want, he maketh me to lie down in green pastures; He leadeth me beside still waters. He restoreth my soul: He Guideth me in the paths of righteousness... TREVES Righteousness... MERRICK (V.O.) Righteousness for his namesake. WE NOW SEE TREVES AND MERRICK TREVES Very good, very good. Now, when your visitor comes today I want you to say it exactly the way you said it just now. I will introduce him to you and you will say the words you've learned. If you have any trouble with any of the words, I'll help you. I'm sure you'll be just fine. If you do as well for him as you've done for me these last two days, then I'm sure our visitor will be very pleased. Now, let's go through the whole thing again, shall we? I will say "May I introduce you to Mr. Carr Gomm." And you will say... MERRICK Hello, my name is John Merrick. I am very pleased to meet you! HALLWAY Treves and Carr Gomm are speaking together as they walk along. TREVES It's only a physical problem. He has trouble with certain sounds because of the constrictive deformity of the mouth. But he can talk, and has a great eagerness to make contact with people who will let him. So if you have any difficulty understanding what he is saying, just tell me and I'll make it clear. CARR Speaking is one thing, Treves, but can the man comprehend? Treves cannot easily answer this question. TREVES ...As I said, it's only a physical problem... but I do feel that Mr. Merrick is very flattered that you're taking the time and trouble to meet him, and he's most anxious to make a good impression, so he might seem rather nervous. CARR He needn't. I have no desire to cause him any discomfort. Did you make those inquiries we spoke about? TREVES Yes, I spoke to both the British Home and Royal Hospital for Incurables. I'm afraid that they weren't very encouraging, but they said they'd bring it up at their next committee meeting, so we should have their answers shortly. CARR Fine, fine. You know, your dedication to this patient is an inspiring thing, Treves. But you must remember that this is a hospital, and there are many patients here. Patients who can be made well, and you owe them your first consideration. Just don't become so obsessed, old man, that you begin to neglect them. Carr Gomm starts up the stairs. Treves remains behind, watching him for a moment, then follows. ISOLATION WARD Merrick is standing beside his disguise on its hook. He nervously smooths the cloak down, repositions the Bible on the bedside table and smooths the cloak again. He looks at the door, expecting it to open. It doesn't. His hands smooths the cloak over and over again. Voices can be heard outside the door. Merrick freezes. There are two raps at the door. Merrick flinches, clutching the cloak. The raps are repeated. He pulls himself together and walks to the middle of the room. He takes a deep breath and closes his eyes. MERRICK Come in. The door opens and Treves and Carr Gomm enter. Carr Gomm's eyes are rivited on Merrick, but he contains his shock. Merrick is breathing unevenly, his eyes still closed. Treves goes to him and touches his shoulder. Merrick opens his eyes and looks up at Treves. Treves turns to Carr Gomm, as does Merrick. Carr Gomm lowers his eyes. TREVES John, may I introduce you to Sir Carr Gomm. MERRICK Hello... my name is John Merrick. I am very pleased to meet you. Carr Gomm, still shaken, instinctively offers his hand. CARR I'm very... pleased to meet you. Before Carr Gomm can withdraw his hand, Merrick grasps it with his left hand. There is an uncomfortable silence. Merrick releases it. Carr Gomn, nervously clears his throat. CARR How are you feeling today? MERRICK I feel much better. Thank you for asking. And you? CARR I'm feeling very fit, thank you. How is your bronchitis? MERRICK I feel much better. Thank you. CARR Are you comfortable here? MERRICK Everyone has been very kind. I am extremely grateful. TREVES Mr. Merrick likes the food here. Don't you John? MERRICK Oh yes! It is much better than what I am used to. CARR Oh yes? TREVES (after a pause) And what was that, John? MERRICK Potatoes... There is another agonizing silence. TREVES (to Carr Gomm) ...Yes potatoes... but... MERRICK But the variety of food here is very pleasing... I commend you. CARR (after a pause) I understand that you were beaten? Merrick is at a loss. This is not part of the expected scenario. DIERRICK Oh no, everyone has been very kind. CARR No, I meant in your former situation. Merrick doesn't seem to understand. MERRICK I'm feeling much better now... Carr Gomm stares levelly at Treves for a moment, then asks Merrick: CARR Tell me, how do you like Mr. Treves? As a teacher? Treves stiffens. MERRICK ...I... everyone has been very kind to me. CARR Of course. How long did you and Mr. Treves prepare for this interview? Merrick looks at Treves for guidance, but Treves cannot look him in the eye. MERRICK ...everyone has been very kind. CARR Yes, of course... Well, it's been a pleasure meeting you, Mr. Merrick. Good day. TREVES (to John) Thank you, John. You did very well. Treves and Carr Gomm go out the door onto the landing. Merrick sees his chance escaping him and tries to recapture their attention. MERRICK (his voice is gaining strength) The Lord is my shepherd, I shall not want. He maketh me to lie down in green pastures... (he continues through the following dialogue) Treves and Carr Gomm are alone on the landing, speaking quietly. CARR It was a nice try, Treves, but the man is so obviously mouthing your words. TREVES Yes, I'm very sorry to have wasted your time, sir. I just felt that I had to do anything I could to protect him. CARR I'm sorry too. He simply doesn't belong here. He's be much happier somewhere else, where he could be constantly looked after. Believe me, Frederick, it's better that it worked out this way. Good day. Merrick has come to the end of what Treves taught him to say. He makes one last, desperate attempt to be heard. Treves, disheartened, stands on the landing as Carr Gomm starts down the stairs. MERRICK (V.O.) (now full voice) Yea, though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I will fear no evil, for Thou art with me; Thy rod and Thy staff, they comfort me... Treves is staring, open-mouthed, back into the room. Carr Gomm looks up at him. CARR What is it, Treves? MERRICK (V.O.) Thou preparest a table before me in the presence of mine enemies, Thou anointest my head with oil... TREVES I didn't teach him that part! Treves rushes back into the room, followed by Carr Gomm. MERRICK My cup runneth over. Surely goodness and loving kindness shall follow me all the days of my life, and I shall dwell in the house of the Lord forever. There is a long silence as all three men stare at each other. TREVES How did you, know the rest? I never taught you the rest of it. CARR I don't understand. TREVES Tell me, John, how did you know the rest of the 23rd Psalm? MERRICK (hesitantly) I... I used to read the Bible every day. I know it very well. The Bible, and the Book of Common Prayer. The 23rd Psalm is very beautiful. ISOLATION WARD A few minutes later. We hear voices inside the room. CARR (V.O.) It was a great pleasure to meet you, Mr. Merrick. MERRICK I am very pleased to meet you. CARR I hope we can talk together again sometime. Good day. The door opens and Carr Gomm and Treves come out. TREVES (to Merrick) I'll be right back. He closes the door. CARR I want to see you in my office as soon as you're through up here. We've a good deal to discuss. He starts down the stairs. TREVES Of course, sir. Thank you, thank you very much. Carr Gomm stops on the stairs. CARR Treves. Well done. TREVES Not me, sir. Mr. Merrick. He succeeded in spite of my shortsightedness. ISOLATION WARD Merrick is on the bed, propped up by pillows. The door opens. Treves comes in, shuts the door and leans against it. They look at each other for a moment. TREVES Why did you let me go on like that, teaching you what you already knew? Why didn't you tell me you could read? MERRICK You did not ask me. TREVES I never thought to ask. How can you ever forgive me? MERRICK Oh, no do not say that. You have been so kind to me. I was afraid to say too much. People always want me to be quiet. You wanted me to speak, but I was afraid. Forgive me. TREVES We do have a lot to talk about, don't we? CARR GOMM'S OFFICE Carr Gomm is seated at the window, looking out silently. There is a knock at the door and Treves enters. He quietly closes the door and walks to the window. Carr Gomm never moves. CARR Can you imagine what his life has been like? TREVES Yes, I think I can. CARR No you can't. You can't begin to know, no one can. Carr Gomm suddenly stands and faces Treves. CARR You are quite right, Treves, this is an exceptional case. And I quite agree that the committee should see Mr. Merrick. TREVES I could easily arrange... CARR No, not that way. Broadneck and the others don't like to deal with patients directly. It makes them queasy... Do you have any photographs of Mr. Merrick? TREVES Well, yes. CARR Excellent. We shall present them, along with the other particulars of the case to the committee. I want them to see, exactly, how horribly his body has been affected. You and I shall vouch for his inner qualities. TREVES Do you think they'll go along with us? CARR Of course they will. They're reasonable men. ISOLATION WARD Merrick is in bed, very tired. It's been an exhausting day. Suddenly the door opens and Mothershead comes into the room. Merrick looks up at her very apprehensively. She walks over to the bed, picks up the Bible from the table, opens it and hands it to Merrick. MOTHERSHEAD Read it. Merrick looks down at the Bible. MERRICK Thou heardest my voice; hide not thine ear at my breathing, At my cry. Mothershead backs slowly to the door, deeply disturbed. She stares at Merrick for a moment. MOTHERSHEAD Credit where credit is due. You'll have the paper every morning at breakfast. She quickly turns and exits. Merrick looks down at the Bible. It is open to "Lamentations". HALLWAY - THE LONDON (NIGHT) As before the lights are going off in one hallway after another. The hallways are empty, dark and silent. We hear the great iron door close with a bang. ISOLATION WARD (NIGHT) Merrick is in his bed as always. He holds the portrait of the beautiful woman, gazing at it longingly. He hears a door close far away in the silence of the hospital. Suddenly we hear the heavy footfalls of the Night Porter's boots. As they get louder and louder we move slowly closer to Merrick's face. The sound is very close now, and Merrick's eyes are visibly agitated. Finally, the door bursts open and the Night Porter is standing there. He stares malevolently at Merrick for a long moment and then walks to him menacingly. NIGHT PORTER I hear you have some trouble sleepin'... He grabs Merrick fiercely by the hair and jerks his head back. Merrick immediately starts to wheeze and gasp. NIGHT PORTER Head's too heavy, eh? He pulls Merrick all the way down onto the bed, so that he is prone, struggling for breath. NIGHT PORTER And I heard a nasty rumor about you; I heard you can talk but you can't, can you... can you... can you?... MERRICK (struggling) Noooo! The Night Porter is as first surprised, and then pleased at the desperate sound. NIGHT PORTER No... No you can't! One word about me out of that stinking cakehole... Just ONE word, and you'll have no trouble at sleepin'... no trouble at all. You understand me? Do you!! MERRICK (croaking) Yyyesss. Satisfied, the Night Porter rights Merrick who is just able to catch his breath. The Night Porter smiles and pats Merrick on the shoulder. NIGHT PORTER There now, that's better, i'n' it? HALLWAY Treves and Carr Gomm are on their way to the committee meeting, confident of their position. Treves is holding a folder, and Carr Gomm is looking at the photographs of Merrick. CARR As far as I can see, the only obstacle might be Broadneck. He has enormous influence over the others, very old school, not an easy man to impress. In any case, if worse does come to worse, we still have the British and Royal Homes to fall back on, don't we. Treves is silent. They stop. CARR Don't we? TREVES No, we don't. Their committees have informed me that they're unwilling to take Mr. Merrick, even if they were supplied with funds. They don't want

card

How many times the word 'card' appears in the text?

you? He puts the bowl down again and goes back to Merrick, who seems very upset at leaving his hiding place. TREVES Now please, John, you must do as I say. Come up from there. He starts to help Merrick up, but Merrick just presses himself farther back in the corner, still babbling. There are two raps at the door. Treves goes to it and lets Mothershead in. MOTHERSHEAD Good morning, Mr. Treves. It'll be his bath-time soon. Has he eaten? TREVES Not quite yet, Mrs. Mothershead. There seems to be some difficulty this morning. They both look at the bed. Merrick has almost disappeared under it. MOTHERSHEAD Won't come out, eh? TREVES No, he's very upset about something. MOTHERSHEAD Just being obstinate, sir. I'll handle it. She goes to Merrick and takes hold of his left wrist. MOTHERSHEAD Alright, my son, none of this fuss. Come up from there, this instant. She starts to force him up from the floor. Merrick is moaning now, still trying to get away. TREVES No! Don't pull at him like that. We don't want to frighten him more than he already is. By this time Mothershead has almost got him back on the bed. MOTHERSHEAD Honestly, sir, you must be very firm with this sort. Otherwise they'd lay about on the floor gibbering all day long. All he understands is a good smack. They help Merrick settle back on the pillow. Merrick is still making desperate, unintelligible sounds. TREVES He's had his share of "smacks", Mothershead. I expect that's what drives him under the bed. We must use patience and understanding with this man. MOTHERSHEAD Perhaps you've got the time for that, Mr. Treves, I certainly don't. I've got an entire hospital to look after, and you have your real patients. Don't waste your time with him sir, it's like talking to a wall. I don't mean to be harsh, but truthfully what can you do for him? I'll be back later for his bath. And Mr. Carr Gomm would like to see you when you have a moment. Good day sir. She exits. Treves shuts the door behind her and turns back to the bed. TREVES (to himself) What good am I to you...? He goes to the bed and sits down in front of Merrick, angered by his own seeming uselessness in the situation. TREVES ...What is my purpose? ...It's so important that I understand you. I want to help you, I want to be your doctor... (directly to Merrick) but I can't help you unless you help me, unless I know what you are feeling. I believe there's something back there, there's something you want to say, but I've got to understand you. Do you understand me? Merrick hesitates, then starts babbling again. TREVES No! You are going to talk to me! We are going to show them! We're going to show them that you're not a wall. We are going to talk! Do you understand? Nod your head if you understand me! Slowly Merrick nods yes. TREVES You do understand me! You understand. Now you're going to say it. I've got to hear how you say things. Now, very slowly, say "yes." Treves carefully mouths the word. TREVES "Yes." Merrick is still hesitant, from years of fear, but his eyes betray a growing excitement. Slowly, he tries to talk, his voice a tremulous whisper. MERRICK Yyyy... Yyye... yyyess. TREVES (grabbing Merrick's arm) Yes John! Throughout their dialogue, Merrick is still very garbled, but he no longer babbles. He makes a great effort to speak slowly, to form words the way Treves forms them, to be understood. MERRICK ...Yyes TREVES Yyyess. MERRICK Yyess. TREVES That's much better. I could understand that "yes". MERRICK (pleased) Yes! TREVES Very good! Oh yes! Now listen. I'm going to say some things to you and I want you to repeat them... um... I want you to say them back to me. Do you understand? I'm going to say some things to you and I want you to say them back to me. Do you understand? MERRICK Yes. TREVES Excellent! Now, say... "Hello" MERRICK Hello... TREVES My name is... MERRICK My... name is... TREVES John Merrick. MERRICK John... Merrick TREVES Say "Merrick". MERRICK Merrick... TREVES Say "Mmmerrick." MERRICK Mmmerrick. TREVES Say "Mmmerrick." MERRICK Mmmerrick. TREVES Well, that's alright. I understand you. Now, say the whole thing again, Hello ... MERRICK (haltingly) Hello... my name is... John Merrick. DISSOLVE TO HALLWAY Mrs. Mothershead comes out of the kitchen with a supper tray and walks down the hall, passing the open ward door. We see nurses serving patients their supper. Nora comes out of the ward with a tray which she holds tightly against her. A bowl of soup is spilling on her apron. She catches up with Mothershead. They speak as they walk. NORA Oh, Mrs. Mothershead, please forgive my behavior yesterday. I'm sorry if you're having to do extra work on my account. It was just seeing it... MOTHERSHEAD Patients here are not "its". They are either "he's" or "she's", but that's alright, Ireland. This one's going to be more work for all of us. Good God girl! Mind your broth. Mothershead continues on. Nora guiltily watches her go. ISOLATION WARD Treves and Merrick are absorbed in their work. A knock comes at the door. TREVES Come in. Mothershead enters. TREVES Why, my dear Mrs. Mothershead, how good of you to join us. Mr. Merrick, will you please introduce yourself? MERRICK (hesitantly) Hello, my name is John Merrick. MOTHERSHEAD Good Lord, Mr. Treves! TREVES (exuberantly) We've made tremendous strides today, Mothershead. He listens and repeats with great attention, and this certainly isn't easy for him. MOTHERSHEAD Parrots can do as much, Mr. Treves. It's all very nice, but I don't see the point. You know they won't let him stay here. TREVES (lowering his voice) I'm sure that if Mr. Merrick made a good impression on the hospital committee they'd see that he's the exception to their rule. Now I'm not expecting miracles. I'm not saying he'll be able to read or write, but I do think that I can get him to speak for himself. I'm going to arrange things with Carr Gomm right now. (to Merrick) That was very good, John, very good. That's all for today. We shall do some more tomorrow. Mothershead? Mrs. Mothershead sets the tray down beside Merrick. TREVES I'll see you soon. He and Mothershead exit. Merrick watches the door close. He sighs quietly, looks about, and sees the Bible on the bedside table. He picks it up and, gently runs his fingers over the cover. RECEIVING ROOM - THE LONDON There is total pandemonium in the receiving room. The room is filled with screaming men, women and children. Two drunken women have been fighting with broken bottles and are now covered with blood and cuts. The women are still hysterical, one minute they're sobbing, then in an instant screaming and intent upon fighting again. The crowd keeps them apart. Two Bobbies stand in the background making no move to intercede. To the side we see Bytes watching everything. It is still too violent a scene for the Nurses to come to the women's aide and they stand up in the front of the room waiting. Bytes makes his way along the side of the crowd waiting for a chance to get behind the Nurses and on into the hospital. Now the women begin sobbing again and things quiet some. The Nurses come forward into the crowd. Bytes moves over closer to the hallways. When the Nurses have all gone into the crowd he seizes the chance and disappears into the hospital. CUT TO: Bytes appears and walks down hospital hallway looking about. CARR GOMM'S OFFICE The door opens and Treves enters. CARR (V.O.) Ah, Treves... Treves sits in the armchair. Carr Gomm is sitting at his desk. CARR Have you contacted the British Home and the Royal Hospital? TREVES Ah, no sir. I had planned to see them in the morning. CARR Good! How is the patient? TREVES He's doing very well. In fact that's why I came to see you. I think that if I were to present Mr. Merrick to the hospital committee, then they would have a chance to see for themselves not only the extraordinary nature of the disease, but of the man as well. If the committee had a chance to speak with him, hear him say a few words for himself, I'm sure they would see him as a patient, rather than as a violation of the rules. CARR A few words? I thought he was imbecile? TREVES Well sir, perhaps I should explain... CARR I really don't think that's necessary Treves. I'm quite sure the committee will be able to make an equitable decision on the merits of the case, such as they are. TREVES I don't agree. No one can make a reasonable decision about this man's future without at least meeting him. No doctor would presume to diagnose a patient he had never met. CARR No, Treves, it's out of the question. Now if it was up to me, I'd say "Certainly, let's meet the fellow, by all means," I'm sorry, I simply can't speak for the other members of the committee. TREVES Then will you meet him, as a representative of the committee. CARR Mr. Treves, it's out of the question. I want to hear as soon as possible what the other hospitals can do. I'm sorry. HALLWAY - STAIRCASE - THE LONDON We see Treves leave Carr Gomm's office and walk toward us to the stairwell. As Treves begins down the stairs, he sees Bytes on the next landing coming up. Bytes spots him and goes toward him. BYTES I want my man back. TREVES Just a moment, how did you get in here? BYTES Never mind that, I want my man! TREVES He's still very sick. Please come downstairs with me. I'll explain the situation. BYTES (shouting) DON'T... Don't muck me about. You've had plenty of time to fix him up, and he's leaving with me, NOW. Do you understand me? Now, Mr. Treves. We had a bargain! TREVES You misunderstood. This man suffered a severe fall, if you take my meaning. He's my patient now and I must do what... BYTES Pull the other one, why don't you! We made a deal! TREVES I know what you've done to him and he's never going back to that. BYTES He's a freak! That's how they live. We're partners, him and I, business partners. You're willfully deprivin' me of my livlihood! TREVES All you do is profit from another man's misery! BYTES You think you're better 'n me? YOU wanted the freak to show all your doctor chums and make a name for yourself, you guv. So I gave him to you. On trust, in the name of science! And now I want him back. TREVES You don't own this man! BYTES I want him back! TREVES So you can beat him? So you can starve him? A dog in the street would fare better with you! BYTES I've got my rights, damn you, and I'm going to the authorities! CARR (V.O.) Well, go to the authorities... Now we see Carr Gomm standing above them, at the top of the stairs. CARR By all means do so. In fact, I'll fetch them myself. I'm quite sure they'd be very interested in your story, as well as ours. Livid, Bytes looks from Carr Gomm to Treves, at a loss for words. TREVES Now I think we really do understand one another. BYTES (venomously) Right... Right. He backs slowly down to the landing eyeing Treves and Carr Gomm. At the landing he casually turns and disappears down more stairs. Treves turns and gazes at Carr Gomm. CARR Singularly unpleasant chap... uh... I don't suppose there would be any harm in my meeting your... patient, Mr. Treves. TREVES (gratefully) Thank you very much Sir. Shall we say in a few days then? CARR Shall we say two o'clock tomorrow afternoon? TREVES (slightly taken aback) Wh... whatever is most convenient for you, sir. CARR Two o'clock then... you know Treves... It seems this acquaintance of yours has become rather more than just an acquaintance. TREVES ...Yes, Sir. They part company. We follow Treves down the stairs. TREVES (muttering) Two o'clock? Then we follow Carr Gomm to his office door. He stops short. CARR (mumbling out loud) Elephant Man? I don't want to meet an Elephant Man. HALLWAYS - THE LONDON (NIGHT) Again, the hospital is closing down for the night. Lights go off in each hallway. The staff is vacating the hospital. As the last light goes off, we hear the great iron door slam shut. TREVES' HOUSE - BEDROOM (NIGHT) Anne is at her dressing table, brushing out her hair. She is in a very flattering dressing gown, ready to turn in. We see her reflected in the mirror as well as Treves who is in his robe in the background seated at his side of their bed, deep in thought. Anne looks at Treves and smiles affectionately. ANNE (coyly) Freddie? Getting no response she renews her efforts. ANNE Freddie?... Freddie, don't look so discouraged. TREVES I shouldn't be. We made great progress today. I taught him to repeat a few basic phrases. He did rather well, too, but I had to lead him every step of the way. Though frankly, at times I was unsure of who was leading whom. ANNE What do you mean? TREVES Well, I wasn't sure whether he was parroting me because that's all he was capable of, or whether he sensed that that's all I wanted to hear, and he was trying to please me. ANNE But I thought you said that he was rather... simple? TREVES He is. I mean, I've always thought he was. I think he must be. Is he simple? Or is that just something I've wished upon him to make things simpler for myself? Anne puts down the brush and rises. ANNE Frederick, why are you so interested in this particular case? TREVES I don't know. I can't explain it. If this is an intelligent man, trapped in the body of a monster, then I'm under a moral obligation to help free that mind, free that spirit as best I can, to help him live as full and content a life as possible. But! If he's an imbecile, who's body I can't treat and who's mind I can't touch, well, then my obligation is discharged. They can put him where they will; he won't be bothered, I won't be bothered, and everyone's conscience can remain free and untroubled. And that is my dilemma... what is in his mind? Anne, sympathizing with his concerns goes to him and puts her arms around him. ANNE Perhaps you're just polishing a stone, endowing this Elephant Man with qualities he doesn't possess? TREVES (impatiently) And what qualities are those? Intelligence or stupidity? ANNE (slightly hurt) I'm sure I don't know, Freddie. She releases Treves and lies down. Treves realizes that perhaps he has been unkind. TREVES I'm sorry... I don't know either. I just don't know. ANNE Well, these things take time. TREVES I've only got until two o'clock tomorrow afternoon, when Carr Gomm meets him. Somehow, between now and then I've got to make John Merrick at least seem like an intelligent man... Why am I fooling myself? Nothing short of John delivering the Sermon on the Mount is going to sway Carr Gomm... Anne sits back up and gently places her hand over Treves' mouth. As she does so she leans forward and turns out the light. ISOLATION WARD Merrick is propped up in bed. Suddenly the door bursts open. The Night Porter, an arm around a drunken giggling tart, stands in the doorway. As soon as the Charwoman sees Merrick, she screams as does Merrick, and she wriggles free, making for the stairs. The Night Porter watches her go and then turns to Merrick laughing noisily. He then pulls the door shut with a bang. Merrick, very frightened, crawls down into his hiding place. BEDROOM (MORNING) We see Anne alone in bed, asleep. Treves is finished dressing and leaves the room. The sound of the door closing awakens Anne. She looks around for Treves. A clock reads 5:30. ISOLATION WARD Merrick's disguise hangs on the wall. MERRICK (V.O.) The Lord is my shepherd, I shall not want, he maketh me to lie down in green pastures; He leadeth me beside still waters. He restoreth my soul: He Guideth me in the paths of righteousness... TREVES Righteousness... MERRICK (V.O.) Righteousness for his namesake. WE NOW SEE TREVES AND MERRICK TREVES Very good, very good. Now, when your visitor comes today I want you to say it exactly the way you said it just now. I will introduce him to you and you will say the words you've learned. If you have any trouble with any of the words, I'll help you. I'm sure you'll be just fine. If you do as well for him as you've done for me these last two days, then I'm sure our visitor will be very pleased. Now, let's go through the whole thing again, shall we? I will say "May I introduce you to Mr. Carr Gomm." And you will say... MERRICK Hello, my name is John Merrick. I am very pleased to meet you! HALLWAY Treves and Carr Gomm are speaking together as they walk along. TREVES It's only a physical problem. He has trouble with certain sounds because of the constrictive deformity of the mouth. But he can talk, and has a great eagerness to make contact with people who will let him. So if you have any difficulty understanding what he is saying, just tell me and I'll make it clear. CARR Speaking is one thing, Treves, but can the man comprehend? Treves cannot easily answer this question. TREVES ...As I said, it's only a physical problem... but I do feel that Mr. Merrick is very flattered that you're taking the time and trouble to meet him, and he's most anxious to make a good impression, so he might seem rather nervous. CARR He needn't. I have no desire to cause him any discomfort. Did you make those inquiries we spoke about? TREVES Yes, I spoke to both the British Home and Royal Hospital for Incurables. I'm afraid that they weren't very encouraging, but they said they'd bring it up at their next committee meeting, so we should have their answers shortly. CARR Fine, fine. You know, your dedication to this patient is an inspiring thing, Treves. But you must remember that this is a hospital, and there are many patients here. Patients who can be made well, and you owe them your first consideration. Just don't become so obsessed, old man, that you begin to neglect them. Carr Gomm starts up the stairs. Treves remains behind, watching him for a moment, then follows. ISOLATION WARD Merrick is standing beside his disguise on its hook. He nervously smooths the cloak down, repositions the Bible on the bedside table and smooths the cloak again. He looks at the door, expecting it to open. It doesn't. His hands smooths the cloak over and over again. Voices can be heard outside the door. Merrick freezes. There are two raps at the door. Merrick flinches, clutching the cloak. The raps are repeated. He pulls himself together and walks to the middle of the room. He takes a deep breath and closes his eyes. MERRICK Come in. The door opens and Treves and Carr Gomm enter. Carr Gomm's eyes are rivited on Merrick, but he contains his shock. Merrick is breathing unevenly, his eyes still closed. Treves goes to him and touches his shoulder. Merrick opens his eyes and looks up at Treves. Treves turns to Carr Gomm, as does Merrick. Carr Gomm lowers his eyes. TREVES John, may I introduce you to Sir Carr Gomm. MERRICK Hello... my name is John Merrick. I am very pleased to meet you. Carr Gomm, still shaken, instinctively offers his hand. CARR I'm very... pleased to meet you. Before Carr Gomm can withdraw his hand, Merrick grasps it with his left hand. There is an uncomfortable silence. Merrick releases it. Carr Gomn, nervously clears his throat. CARR How are you feeling today? MERRICK I feel much better. Thank you for asking. And you? CARR I'm feeling very fit, thank you. How is your bronchitis? MERRICK I feel much better. Thank you. CARR Are you comfortable here? MERRICK Everyone has been very kind. I am extremely grateful. TREVES Mr. Merrick likes the food here. Don't you John? MERRICK Oh yes! It is much better than what I am used to. CARR Oh yes? TREVES (after a pause) And what was that, John? MERRICK Potatoes... There is another agonizing silence. TREVES (to Carr Gomm) ...Yes potatoes... but... MERRICK But the variety of food here is very pleasing... I commend you. CARR (after a pause) I understand that you were beaten? Merrick is at a loss. This is not part of the expected scenario. DIERRICK Oh no, everyone has been very kind. CARR No, I meant in your former situation. Merrick doesn't seem to understand. MERRICK I'm feeling much better now... Carr Gomm stares levelly at Treves for a moment, then asks Merrick: CARR Tell me, how do you like Mr. Treves? As a teacher? Treves stiffens. MERRICK ...I... everyone has been very kind to me. CARR Of course. How long did you and Mr. Treves prepare for this interview? Merrick looks at Treves for guidance, but Treves cannot look him in the eye. MERRICK ...everyone has been very kind. CARR Yes, of course... Well, it's been a pleasure meeting you, Mr. Merrick. Good day. TREVES (to John) Thank you, John. You did very well. Treves and Carr Gomm go out the door onto the landing. Merrick sees his chance escaping him and tries to recapture their attention. MERRICK (his voice is gaining strength) The Lord is my shepherd, I shall not want. He maketh me to lie down in green pastures... (he continues through the following dialogue) Treves and Carr Gomm are alone on the landing, speaking quietly. CARR It was a nice try, Treves, but the man is so obviously mouthing your words. TREVES Yes, I'm very sorry to have wasted your time, sir. I just felt that I had to do anything I could to protect him. CARR I'm sorry too. He simply doesn't belong here. He's be much happier somewhere else, where he could be constantly looked after. Believe me, Frederick, it's better that it worked out this way. Good day. Merrick has come to the end of what Treves taught him to say. He makes one last, desperate attempt to be heard. Treves, disheartened, stands on the landing as Carr Gomm starts down the stairs. MERRICK (V.O.) (now full voice) Yea, though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I will fear no evil, for Thou art with me; Thy rod and Thy staff, they comfort me... Treves is staring, open-mouthed, back into the room. Carr Gomm looks up at him. CARR What is it, Treves? MERRICK (V.O.) Thou preparest a table before me in the presence of mine enemies, Thou anointest my head with oil... TREVES I didn't teach him that part! Treves rushes back into the room, followed by Carr Gomm. MERRICK My cup runneth over. Surely goodness and loving kindness shall follow me all the days of my life, and I shall dwell in the house of the Lord forever. There is a long silence as all three men stare at each other. TREVES How did you, know the rest? I never taught you the rest of it. CARR I don't understand. TREVES Tell me, John, how did you know the rest of the 23rd Psalm? MERRICK (hesitantly) I... I used to read the Bible every day. I know it very well. The Bible, and the Book of Common Prayer. The 23rd Psalm is very beautiful. ISOLATION WARD A few minutes later. We hear voices inside the room. CARR (V.O.) It was a great pleasure to meet you, Mr. Merrick. MERRICK I am very pleased to meet you. CARR I hope we can talk together again sometime. Good day. The door opens and Carr Gomm and Treves come out. TREVES (to Merrick) I'll be right back. He closes the door. CARR I want to see you in my office as soon as you're through up here. We've a good deal to discuss. He starts down the stairs. TREVES Of course, sir. Thank you, thank you very much. Carr Gomm stops on the stairs. CARR Treves. Well done. TREVES Not me, sir. Mr. Merrick. He succeeded in spite of my shortsightedness. ISOLATION WARD Merrick is on the bed, propped up by pillows. The door opens. Treves comes in, shuts the door and leans against it. They look at each other for a moment. TREVES Why did you let me go on like that, teaching you what you already knew? Why didn't you tell me you could read? MERRICK You did not ask me. TREVES I never thought to ask. How can you ever forgive me? MERRICK Oh, no do not say that. You have been so kind to me. I was afraid to say too much. People always want me to be quiet. You wanted me to speak, but I was afraid. Forgive me. TREVES We do have a lot to talk about, don't we? CARR GOMM'S OFFICE Carr Gomm is seated at the window, looking out silently. There is a knock at the door and Treves enters. He quietly closes the door and walks to the window. Carr Gomm never moves. CARR Can you imagine what his life has been like? TREVES Yes, I think I can. CARR No you can't. You can't begin to know, no one can. Carr Gomm suddenly stands and faces Treves. CARR You are quite right, Treves, this is an exceptional case. And I quite agree that the committee should see Mr. Merrick. TREVES I could easily arrange... CARR No, not that way. Broadneck and the others don't like to deal with patients directly. It makes them queasy... Do you have any photographs of Mr. Merrick? TREVES Well, yes. CARR Excellent. We shall present them, along with the other particulars of the case to the committee. I want them to see, exactly, how horribly his body has been affected. You and I shall vouch for his inner qualities. TREVES Do you think they'll go along with us? CARR Of course they will. They're reasonable men. ISOLATION WARD Merrick is in bed, very tired. It's been an exhausting day. Suddenly the door opens and Mothershead comes into the room. Merrick looks up at her very apprehensively. She walks over to the bed, picks up the Bible from the table, opens it and hands it to Merrick. MOTHERSHEAD Read it. Merrick looks down at the Bible. MERRICK Thou heardest my voice; hide not thine ear at my breathing, At my cry. Mothershead backs slowly to the door, deeply disturbed. She stares at Merrick for a moment. MOTHERSHEAD Credit where credit is due. You'll have the paper every morning at breakfast. She quickly turns and exits. Merrick looks down at the Bible. It is open to "Lamentations". HALLWAY - THE LONDON (NIGHT) As before the lights are going off in one hallway after another. The hallways are empty, dark and silent. We hear the great iron door close with a bang. ISOLATION WARD (NIGHT) Merrick is in his bed as always. He holds the portrait of the beautiful woman, gazing at it longingly. He hears a door close far away in the silence of the hospital. Suddenly we hear the heavy footfalls of the Night Porter's boots. As they get louder and louder we move slowly closer to Merrick's face. The sound is very close now, and Merrick's eyes are visibly agitated. Finally, the door bursts open and the Night Porter is standing there. He stares malevolently at Merrick for a long moment and then walks to him menacingly. NIGHT PORTER I hear you have some trouble sleepin'... He grabs Merrick fiercely by the hair and jerks his head back. Merrick immediately starts to wheeze and gasp. NIGHT PORTER Head's too heavy, eh? He pulls Merrick all the way down onto the bed, so that he is prone, struggling for breath. NIGHT PORTER And I heard a nasty rumor about you; I heard you can talk but you can't, can you... can you... can you?... MERRICK (struggling) Noooo! The Night Porter is as first surprised, and then pleased at the desperate sound. NIGHT PORTER No... No you can't! One word about me out of that stinking cakehole... Just ONE word, and you'll have no trouble at sleepin'... no trouble at all. You understand me? Do you!! MERRICK (croaking) Yyyesss. Satisfied, the Night Porter rights Merrick who is just able to catch his breath. The Night Porter smiles and pats Merrick on the shoulder. NIGHT PORTER There now, that's better, i'n' it? HALLWAY Treves and Carr Gomm are on their way to the committee meeting, confident of their position. Treves is holding a folder, and Carr Gomm is looking at the photographs of Merrick. CARR As far as I can see, the only obstacle might be Broadneck. He has enormous influence over the others, very old school, not an easy man to impress. In any case, if worse does come to worse, we still have the British and Royal Homes to fall back on, don't we. Treves is silent. They stop. CARR Don't we? TREVES No, we don't. Their committees have informed me that they're unwilling to take Mr. Merrick, even if they were supplied with funds. They don't want

work

How many times the word 'work' appears in the text?

you? He puts the bowl down again and goes back to Merrick, who seems very upset at leaving his hiding place. TREVES Now please, John, you must do as I say. Come up from there. He starts to help Merrick up, but Merrick just presses himself farther back in the corner, still babbling. There are two raps at the door. Treves goes to it and lets Mothershead in. MOTHERSHEAD Good morning, Mr. Treves. It'll be his bath-time soon. Has he eaten? TREVES Not quite yet, Mrs. Mothershead. There seems to be some difficulty this morning. They both look at the bed. Merrick has almost disappeared under it. MOTHERSHEAD Won't come out, eh? TREVES No, he's very upset about something. MOTHERSHEAD Just being obstinate, sir. I'll handle it. She goes to Merrick and takes hold of his left wrist. MOTHERSHEAD Alright, my son, none of this fuss. Come up from there, this instant. She starts to force him up from the floor. Merrick is moaning now, still trying to get away. TREVES No! Don't pull at him like that. We don't want to frighten him more than he already is. By this time Mothershead has almost got him back on the bed. MOTHERSHEAD Honestly, sir, you must be very firm with this sort. Otherwise they'd lay about on the floor gibbering all day long. All he understands is a good smack. They help Merrick settle back on the pillow. Merrick is still making desperate, unintelligible sounds. TREVES He's had his share of "smacks", Mothershead. I expect that's what drives him under the bed. We must use patience and understanding with this man. MOTHERSHEAD Perhaps you've got the time for that, Mr. Treves, I certainly don't. I've got an entire hospital to look after, and you have your real patients. Don't waste your time with him sir, it's like talking to a wall. I don't mean to be harsh, but truthfully what can you do for him? I'll be back later for his bath. And Mr. Carr Gomm would like to see you when you have a moment. Good day sir. She exits. Treves shuts the door behind her and turns back to the bed. TREVES (to himself) What good am I to you...? He goes to the bed and sits down in front of Merrick, angered by his own seeming uselessness in the situation. TREVES ...What is my purpose? ...It's so important that I understand you. I want to help you, I want to be your doctor... (directly to Merrick) but I can't help you unless you help me, unless I know what you are feeling. I believe there's something back there, there's something you want to say, but I've got to understand you. Do you understand me? Merrick hesitates, then starts babbling again. TREVES No! You are going to talk to me! We are going to show them! We're going to show them that you're not a wall. We are going to talk! Do you understand? Nod your head if you understand me! Slowly Merrick nods yes. TREVES You do understand me! You understand. Now you're going to say it. I've got to hear how you say things. Now, very slowly, say "yes." Treves carefully mouths the word. TREVES "Yes." Merrick is still hesitant, from years of fear, but his eyes betray a growing excitement. Slowly, he tries to talk, his voice a tremulous whisper. MERRICK Yyyy... Yyye... yyyess. TREVES (grabbing Merrick's arm) Yes John! Throughout their dialogue, Merrick is still very garbled, but he no longer babbles. He makes a great effort to speak slowly, to form words the way Treves forms them, to be understood. MERRICK ...Yyes TREVES Yyyess. MERRICK Yyess. TREVES That's much better. I could understand that "yes". MERRICK (pleased) Yes! TREVES Very good! Oh yes! Now listen. I'm going to say some things to you and I want you to repeat them... um... I want you to say them back to me. Do you understand? I'm going to say some things to you and I want you to say them back to me. Do you understand? MERRICK Yes. TREVES Excellent! Now, say... "Hello" MERRICK Hello... TREVES My name is... MERRICK My... name is... TREVES John Merrick. MERRICK John... Merrick TREVES Say "Merrick". MERRICK Merrick... TREVES Say "Mmmerrick." MERRICK Mmmerrick. TREVES Say "Mmmerrick." MERRICK Mmmerrick. TREVES Well, that's alright. I understand you. Now, say the whole thing again, Hello ... MERRICK (haltingly) Hello... my name is... John Merrick. DISSOLVE TO HALLWAY Mrs. Mothershead comes out of the kitchen with a supper tray and walks down the hall, passing the open ward door. We see nurses serving patients their supper. Nora comes out of the ward with a tray which she holds tightly against her. A bowl of soup is spilling on her apron. She catches up with Mothershead. They speak as they walk. NORA Oh, Mrs. Mothershead, please forgive my behavior yesterday. I'm sorry if you're having to do extra work on my account. It was just seeing it... MOTHERSHEAD Patients here are not "its". They are either "he's" or "she's", but that's alright, Ireland. This one's going to be more work for all of us. Good God girl! Mind your broth. Mothershead continues on. Nora guiltily watches her go. ISOLATION WARD Treves and Merrick are absorbed in their work. A knock comes at the door. TREVES Come in. Mothershead enters. TREVES Why, my dear Mrs. Mothershead, how good of you to join us. Mr. Merrick, will you please introduce yourself? MERRICK (hesitantly) Hello, my name is John Merrick. MOTHERSHEAD Good Lord, Mr. Treves! TREVES (exuberantly) We've made tremendous strides today, Mothershead. He listens and repeats with great attention, and this certainly isn't easy for him. MOTHERSHEAD Parrots can do as much, Mr. Treves. It's all very nice, but I don't see the point. You know they won't let him stay here. TREVES (lowering his voice) I'm sure that if Mr. Merrick made a good impression on the hospital committee they'd see that he's the exception to their rule. Now I'm not expecting miracles. I'm not saying he'll be able to read or write, but I do think that I can get him to speak for himself. I'm going to arrange things with Carr Gomm right now. (to Merrick) That was very good, John, very good. That's all for today. We shall do some more tomorrow. Mothershead? Mrs. Mothershead sets the tray down beside Merrick. TREVES I'll see you soon. He and Mothershead exit. Merrick watches the door close. He sighs quietly, looks about, and sees the Bible on the bedside table. He picks it up and, gently runs his fingers over the cover. RECEIVING ROOM - THE LONDON There is total pandemonium in the receiving room. The room is filled with screaming men, women and children. Two drunken women have been fighting with broken bottles and are now covered with blood and cuts. The women are still hysterical, one minute they're sobbing, then in an instant screaming and intent upon fighting again. The crowd keeps them apart. Two Bobbies stand in the background making no move to intercede. To the side we see Bytes watching everything. It is still too violent a scene for the Nurses to come to the women's aide and they stand up in the front of the room waiting. Bytes makes his way along the side of the crowd waiting for a chance to get behind the Nurses and on into the hospital. Now the women begin sobbing again and things quiet some. The Nurses come forward into the crowd. Bytes moves over closer to the hallways. When the Nurses have all gone into the crowd he seizes the chance and disappears into the hospital. CUT TO: Bytes appears and walks down hospital hallway looking about. CARR GOMM'S OFFICE The door opens and Treves enters. CARR (V.O.) Ah, Treves... Treves sits in the armchair. Carr Gomm is sitting at his desk. CARR Have you contacted the British Home and the Royal Hospital? TREVES Ah, no sir. I had planned to see them in the morning. CARR Good! How is the patient? TREVES He's doing very well. In fact that's why I came to see you. I think that if I were to present Mr. Merrick to the hospital committee, then they would have a chance to see for themselves not only the extraordinary nature of the disease, but of the man as well. If the committee had a chance to speak with him, hear him say a few words for himself, I'm sure they would see him as a patient, rather than as a violation of the rules. CARR A few words? I thought he was imbecile? TREVES Well sir, perhaps I should explain... CARR I really don't think that's necessary Treves. I'm quite sure the committee will be able to make an equitable decision on the merits of the case, such as they are. TREVES I don't agree. No one can make a reasonable decision about this man's future without at least meeting him. No doctor would presume to diagnose a patient he had never met. CARR No, Treves, it's out of the question. Now if it was up to me, I'd say "Certainly, let's meet the fellow, by all means," I'm sorry, I simply can't speak for the other members of the committee. TREVES Then will you meet him, as a representative of the committee. CARR Mr. Treves, it's out of the question. I want to hear as soon as possible what the other hospitals can do. I'm sorry. HALLWAY - STAIRCASE - THE LONDON We see Treves leave Carr Gomm's office and walk toward us to the stairwell. As Treves begins down the stairs, he sees Bytes on the next landing coming up. Bytes spots him and goes toward him. BYTES I want my man back. TREVES Just a moment, how did you get in here? BYTES Never mind that, I want my man! TREVES He's still very sick. Please come downstairs with me. I'll explain the situation. BYTES (shouting) DON'T... Don't muck me about. You've had plenty of time to fix him up, and he's leaving with me, NOW. Do you understand me? Now, Mr. Treves. We had a bargain! TREVES You misunderstood. This man suffered a severe fall, if you take my meaning. He's my patient now and I must do what... BYTES Pull the other one, why don't you! We made a deal! TREVES I know what you've done to him and he's never going back to that. BYTES He's a freak! That's how they live. We're partners, him and I, business partners. You're willfully deprivin' me of my livlihood! TREVES All you do is profit from another man's misery! BYTES You think you're better 'n me? YOU wanted the freak to show all your doctor chums and make a name for yourself, you guv. So I gave him to you. On trust, in the name of science! And now I want him back. TREVES You don't own this man! BYTES I want him back! TREVES So you can beat him? So you can starve him? A dog in the street would fare better with you! BYTES I've got my rights, damn you, and I'm going to the authorities! CARR (V.O.) Well, go to the authorities... Now we see Carr Gomm standing above them, at the top of the stairs. CARR By all means do so. In fact, I'll fetch them myself. I'm quite sure they'd be very interested in your story, as well as ours. Livid, Bytes looks from Carr Gomm to Treves, at a loss for words. TREVES Now I think we really do understand one another. BYTES (venomously) Right... Right. He backs slowly down to the landing eyeing Treves and Carr Gomm. At the landing he casually turns and disappears down more stairs. Treves turns and gazes at Carr Gomm. CARR Singularly unpleasant chap... uh... I don't suppose there would be any harm in my meeting your... patient, Mr. Treves. TREVES (gratefully) Thank you very much Sir. Shall we say in a few days then? CARR Shall we say two o'clock tomorrow afternoon? TREVES (slightly taken aback) Wh... whatever is most convenient for you, sir. CARR Two o'clock then... you know Treves... It seems this acquaintance of yours has become rather more than just an acquaintance. TREVES ...Yes, Sir. They part company. We follow Treves down the stairs. TREVES (muttering) Two o'clock? Then we follow Carr Gomm to his office door. He stops short. CARR (mumbling out loud) Elephant Man? I don't want to meet an Elephant Man. HALLWAYS - THE LONDON (NIGHT) Again, the hospital is closing down for the night. Lights go off in each hallway. The staff is vacating the hospital. As the last light goes off, we hear the great iron door slam shut. TREVES' HOUSE - BEDROOM (NIGHT) Anne is at her dressing table, brushing out her hair. She is in a very flattering dressing gown, ready to turn in. We see her reflected in the mirror as well as Treves who is in his robe in the background seated at his side of their bed, deep in thought. Anne looks at Treves and smiles affectionately. ANNE (coyly) Freddie? Getting no response she renews her efforts. ANNE Freddie?... Freddie, don't look so discouraged. TREVES I shouldn't be. We made great progress today. I taught him to repeat a few basic phrases. He did rather well, too, but I had to lead him every step of the way. Though frankly, at times I was unsure of who was leading whom. ANNE What do you mean? TREVES Well, I wasn't sure whether he was parroting me because that's all he was capable of, or whether he sensed that that's all I wanted to hear, and he was trying to please me. ANNE But I thought you said that he was rather... simple? TREVES He is. I mean, I've always thought he was. I think he must be. Is he simple? Or is that just something I've wished upon him to make things simpler for myself? Anne puts down the brush and rises. ANNE Frederick, why are you so interested in this particular case? TREVES I don't know. I can't explain it. If this is an intelligent man, trapped in the body of a monster, then I'm under a moral obligation to help free that mind, free that spirit as best I can, to help him live as full and content a life as possible. But! If he's an imbecile, who's body I can't treat and who's mind I can't touch, well, then my obligation is discharged. They can put him where they will; he won't be bothered, I won't be bothered, and everyone's conscience can remain free and untroubled. And that is my dilemma... what is in his mind? Anne, sympathizing with his concerns goes to him and puts her arms around him. ANNE Perhaps you're just polishing a stone, endowing this Elephant Man with qualities he doesn't possess? TREVES (impatiently) And what qualities are those? Intelligence or stupidity? ANNE (slightly hurt) I'm sure I don't know, Freddie. She releases Treves and lies down. Treves realizes that perhaps he has been unkind. TREVES I'm sorry... I don't know either. I just don't know. ANNE Well, these things take time. TREVES I've only got until two o'clock tomorrow afternoon, when Carr Gomm meets him. Somehow, between now and then I've got to make John Merrick at least seem like an intelligent man... Why am I fooling myself? Nothing short of John delivering the Sermon on the Mount is going to sway Carr Gomm... Anne sits back up and gently places her hand over Treves' mouth. As she does so she leans forward and turns out the light. ISOLATION WARD Merrick is propped up in bed. Suddenly the door bursts open. The Night Porter, an arm around a drunken giggling tart, stands in the doorway. As soon as the Charwoman sees Merrick, she screams as does Merrick, and she wriggles free, making for the stairs. The Night Porter watches her go and then turns to Merrick laughing noisily. He then pulls the door shut with a bang. Merrick, very frightened, crawls down into his hiding place. BEDROOM (MORNING) We see Anne alone in bed, asleep. Treves is finished dressing and leaves the room. The sound of the door closing awakens Anne. She looks around for Treves. A clock reads 5:30. ISOLATION WARD Merrick's disguise hangs on the wall. MERRICK (V.O.) The Lord is my shepherd, I shall not want, he maketh me to lie down in green pastures; He leadeth me beside still waters. He restoreth my soul: He Guideth me in the paths of righteousness... TREVES Righteousness... MERRICK (V.O.) Righteousness for his namesake. WE NOW SEE TREVES AND MERRICK TREVES Very good, very good. Now, when your visitor comes today I want you to say it exactly the way you said it just now. I will introduce him to you and you will say the words you've learned. If you have any trouble with any of the words, I'll help you. I'm sure you'll be just fine. If you do as well for him as you've done for me these last two days, then I'm sure our visitor will be very pleased. Now, let's go through the whole thing again, shall we? I will say "May I introduce you to Mr. Carr Gomm." And you will say... MERRICK Hello, my name is John Merrick. I am very pleased to meet you! HALLWAY Treves and Carr Gomm are speaking together as they walk along. TREVES It's only a physical problem. He has trouble with certain sounds because of the constrictive deformity of the mouth. But he can talk, and has a great eagerness to make contact with people who will let him. So if you have any difficulty understanding what he is saying, just tell me and I'll make it clear. CARR Speaking is one thing, Treves, but can the man comprehend? Treves cannot easily answer this question. TREVES ...As I said, it's only a physical problem... but I do feel that Mr. Merrick is very flattered that you're taking the time and trouble to meet him, and he's most anxious to make a good impression, so he might seem rather nervous. CARR He needn't. I have no desire to cause him any discomfort. Did you make those inquiries we spoke about? TREVES Yes, I spoke to both the British Home and Royal Hospital for Incurables. I'm afraid that they weren't very encouraging, but they said they'd bring it up at their next committee meeting, so we should have their answers shortly. CARR Fine, fine. You know, your dedication to this patient is an inspiring thing, Treves. But you must remember that this is a hospital, and there are many patients here. Patients who can be made well, and you owe them your first consideration. Just don't become so obsessed, old man, that you begin to neglect them. Carr Gomm starts up the stairs. Treves remains behind, watching him for a moment, then follows. ISOLATION WARD Merrick is standing beside his disguise on its hook. He nervously smooths the cloak down, repositions the Bible on the bedside table and smooths the cloak again. He looks at the door, expecting it to open. It doesn't. His hands smooths the cloak over and over again. Voices can be heard outside the door. Merrick freezes. There are two raps at the door. Merrick flinches, clutching the cloak. The raps are repeated. He pulls himself together and walks to the middle of the room. He takes a deep breath and closes his eyes. MERRICK Come in. The door opens and Treves and Carr Gomm enter. Carr Gomm's eyes are rivited on Merrick, but he contains his shock. Merrick is breathing unevenly, his eyes still closed. Treves goes to him and touches his shoulder. Merrick opens his eyes and looks up at Treves. Treves turns to Carr Gomm, as does Merrick. Carr Gomm lowers his eyes. TREVES John, may I introduce you to Sir Carr Gomm. MERRICK Hello... my name is John Merrick. I am very pleased to meet you. Carr Gomm, still shaken, instinctively offers his hand. CARR I'm very... pleased to meet you. Before Carr Gomm can withdraw his hand, Merrick grasps it with his left hand. There is an uncomfortable silence. Merrick releases it. Carr Gomn, nervously clears his throat. CARR How are you feeling today? MERRICK I feel much better. Thank you for asking. And you? CARR I'm feeling very fit, thank you. How is your bronchitis? MERRICK I feel much better. Thank you. CARR Are you comfortable here? MERRICK Everyone has been very kind. I am extremely grateful. TREVES Mr. Merrick likes the food here. Don't you John? MERRICK Oh yes! It is much better than what I am used to. CARR Oh yes? TREVES (after a pause) And what was that, John? MERRICK Potatoes... There is another agonizing silence. TREVES (to Carr Gomm) ...Yes potatoes... but... MERRICK But the variety of food here is very pleasing... I commend you. CARR (after a pause) I understand that you were beaten? Merrick is at a loss. This is not part of the expected scenario. DIERRICK Oh no, everyone has been very kind. CARR No, I meant in your former situation. Merrick doesn't seem to understand. MERRICK I'm feeling much better now... Carr Gomm stares levelly at Treves for a moment, then asks Merrick: CARR Tell me, how do you like Mr. Treves? As a teacher? Treves stiffens. MERRICK ...I... everyone has been very kind to me. CARR Of course. How long did you and Mr. Treves prepare for this interview? Merrick looks at Treves for guidance, but Treves cannot look him in the eye. MERRICK ...everyone has been very kind. CARR Yes, of course... Well, it's been a pleasure meeting you, Mr. Merrick. Good day. TREVES (to John) Thank you, John. You did very well. Treves and Carr Gomm go out the door onto the landing. Merrick sees his chance escaping him and tries to recapture their attention. MERRICK (his voice is gaining strength) The Lord is my shepherd, I shall not want. He maketh me to lie down in green pastures... (he continues through the following dialogue) Treves and Carr Gomm are alone on the landing, speaking quietly. CARR It was a nice try, Treves, but the man is so obviously mouthing your words. TREVES Yes, I'm very sorry to have wasted your time, sir. I just felt that I had to do anything I could to protect him. CARR I'm sorry too. He simply doesn't belong here. He's be much happier somewhere else, where he could be constantly looked after. Believe me, Frederick, it's better that it worked out this way. Good day. Merrick has come to the end of what Treves taught him to say. He makes one last, desperate attempt to be heard. Treves, disheartened, stands on the landing as Carr Gomm starts down the stairs. MERRICK (V.O.) (now full voice) Yea, though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I will fear no evil, for Thou art with me; Thy rod and Thy staff, they comfort me... Treves is staring, open-mouthed, back into the room. Carr Gomm looks up at him. CARR What is it, Treves? MERRICK (V.O.) Thou preparest a table before me in the presence of mine enemies, Thou anointest my head with oil... TREVES I didn't teach him that part! Treves rushes back into the room, followed by Carr Gomm. MERRICK My cup runneth over. Surely goodness and loving kindness shall follow me all the days of my life, and I shall dwell in the house of the Lord forever. There is a long silence as all three men stare at each other. TREVES How did you, know the rest? I never taught you the rest of it. CARR I don't understand. TREVES Tell me, John, how did you know the rest of the 23rd Psalm? MERRICK (hesitantly) I... I used to read the Bible every day. I know it very well. The Bible, and the Book of Common Prayer. The 23rd Psalm is very beautiful. ISOLATION WARD A few minutes later. We hear voices inside the room. CARR (V.O.) It was a great pleasure to meet you, Mr. Merrick. MERRICK I am very pleased to meet you. CARR I hope we can talk together again sometime. Good day. The door opens and Carr Gomm and Treves come out. TREVES (to Merrick) I'll be right back. He closes the door. CARR I want to see you in my office as soon as you're through up here. We've a good deal to discuss. He starts down the stairs. TREVES Of course, sir. Thank you, thank you very much. Carr Gomm stops on the stairs. CARR Treves. Well done. TREVES Not me, sir. Mr. Merrick. He succeeded in spite of my shortsightedness. ISOLATION WARD Merrick is on the bed, propped up by pillows. The door opens. Treves comes in, shuts the door and leans against it. They look at each other for a moment. TREVES Why did you let me go on like that, teaching you what you already knew? Why didn't you tell me you could read? MERRICK You did not ask me. TREVES I never thought to ask. How can you ever forgive me? MERRICK Oh, no do not say that. You have been so kind to me. I was afraid to say too much. People always want me to be quiet. You wanted me to speak, but I was afraid. Forgive me. TREVES We do have a lot to talk about, don't we? CARR GOMM'S OFFICE Carr Gomm is seated at the window, looking out silently. There is a knock at the door and Treves enters. He quietly closes the door and walks to the window. Carr Gomm never moves. CARR Can you imagine what his life has been like? TREVES Yes, I think I can. CARR No you can't. You can't begin to know, no one can. Carr Gomm suddenly stands and faces Treves. CARR You are quite right, Treves, this is an exceptional case. And I quite agree that the committee should see Mr. Merrick. TREVES I could easily arrange... CARR No, not that way. Broadneck and the others don't like to deal with patients directly. It makes them queasy... Do you have any photographs of Mr. Merrick? TREVES Well, yes. CARR Excellent. We shall present them, along with the other particulars of the case to the committee. I want them to see, exactly, how horribly his body has been affected. You and I shall vouch for his inner qualities. TREVES Do you think they'll go along with us? CARR Of course they will. They're reasonable men. ISOLATION WARD Merrick is in bed, very tired. It's been an exhausting day. Suddenly the door opens and Mothershead comes into the room. Merrick looks up at her very apprehensively. She walks over to the bed, picks up the Bible from the table, opens it and hands it to Merrick. MOTHERSHEAD Read it. Merrick looks down at the Bible. MERRICK Thou heardest my voice; hide not thine ear at my breathing, At my cry. Mothershead backs slowly to the door, deeply disturbed. She stares at Merrick for a moment. MOTHERSHEAD Credit where credit is due. You'll have the paper every morning at breakfast. She quickly turns and exits. Merrick looks down at the Bible. It is open to "Lamentations". HALLWAY - THE LONDON (NIGHT) As before the lights are going off in one hallway after another. The hallways are empty, dark and silent. We hear the great iron door close with a bang. ISOLATION WARD (NIGHT) Merrick is in his bed as always. He holds the portrait of the beautiful woman, gazing at it longingly. He hears a door close far away in the silence of the hospital. Suddenly we hear the heavy footfalls of the Night Porter's boots. As they get louder and louder we move slowly closer to Merrick's face. The sound is very close now, and Merrick's eyes are visibly agitated. Finally, the door bursts open and the Night Porter is standing there. He stares malevolently at Merrick for a long moment and then walks to him menacingly. NIGHT PORTER I hear you have some trouble sleepin'... He grabs Merrick fiercely by the hair and jerks his head back. Merrick immediately starts to wheeze and gasp. NIGHT PORTER Head's too heavy, eh? He pulls Merrick all the way down onto the bed, so that he is prone, struggling for breath. NIGHT PORTER And I heard a nasty rumor about you; I heard you can talk but you can't, can you... can you... can you?... MERRICK (struggling) Noooo! The Night Porter is as first surprised, and then pleased at the desperate sound. NIGHT PORTER No... No you can't! One word about me out of that stinking cakehole... Just ONE word, and you'll have no trouble at sleepin'... no trouble at all. You understand me? Do you!! MERRICK (croaking) Yyyesss. Satisfied, the Night Porter rights Merrick who is just able to catch his breath. The Night Porter smiles and pats Merrick on the shoulder. NIGHT PORTER There now, that's better, i'n' it? HALLWAY Treves and Carr Gomm are on their way to the committee meeting, confident of their position. Treves is holding a folder, and Carr Gomm is looking at the photographs of Merrick. CARR As far as I can see, the only obstacle might be Broadneck. He has enormous influence over the others, very old school, not an easy man to impress. In any case, if worse does come to worse, we still have the British and Royal Homes to fall back on, don't we. Treves is silent. They stop. CARR Don't we? TREVES No, we don't. Their committees have informed me that they're unwilling to take Mr. Merrick, even if they were supplied with funds. They don't want

excitement

How many times the word 'excitement' appears in the text?

you? He puts the bowl down again and goes back to Merrick, who seems very upset at leaving his hiding place. TREVES Now please, John, you must do as I say. Come up from there. He starts to help Merrick up, but Merrick just presses himself farther back in the corner, still babbling. There are two raps at the door. Treves goes to it and lets Mothershead in. MOTHERSHEAD Good morning, Mr. Treves. It'll be his bath-time soon. Has he eaten? TREVES Not quite yet, Mrs. Mothershead. There seems to be some difficulty this morning. They both look at the bed. Merrick has almost disappeared under it. MOTHERSHEAD Won't come out, eh? TREVES No, he's very upset about something. MOTHERSHEAD Just being obstinate, sir. I'll handle it. She goes to Merrick and takes hold of his left wrist. MOTHERSHEAD Alright, my son, none of this fuss. Come up from there, this instant. She starts to force him up from the floor. Merrick is moaning now, still trying to get away. TREVES No! Don't pull at him like that. We don't want to frighten him more than he already is. By this time Mothershead has almost got him back on the bed. MOTHERSHEAD Honestly, sir, you must be very firm with this sort. Otherwise they'd lay about on the floor gibbering all day long. All he understands is a good smack. They help Merrick settle back on the pillow. Merrick is still making desperate, unintelligible sounds. TREVES He's had his share of "smacks", Mothershead. I expect that's what drives him under the bed. We must use patience and understanding with this man. MOTHERSHEAD Perhaps you've got the time for that, Mr. Treves, I certainly don't. I've got an entire hospital to look after, and you have your real patients. Don't waste your time with him sir, it's like talking to a wall. I don't mean to be harsh, but truthfully what can you do for him? I'll be back later for his bath. And Mr. Carr Gomm would like to see you when you have a moment. Good day sir. She exits. Treves shuts the door behind her and turns back to the bed. TREVES (to himself) What good am I to you...? He goes to the bed and sits down in front of Merrick, angered by his own seeming uselessness in the situation. TREVES ...What is my purpose? ...It's so important that I understand you. I want to help you, I want to be your doctor... (directly to Merrick) but I can't help you unless you help me, unless I know what you are feeling. I believe there's something back there, there's something you want to say, but I've got to understand you. Do you understand me? Merrick hesitates, then starts babbling again. TREVES No! You are going to talk to me! We are going to show them! We're going to show them that you're not a wall. We are going to talk! Do you understand? Nod your head if you understand me! Slowly Merrick nods yes. TREVES You do understand me! You understand. Now you're going to say it. I've got to hear how you say things. Now, very slowly, say "yes." Treves carefully mouths the word. TREVES "Yes." Merrick is still hesitant, from years of fear, but his eyes betray a growing excitement. Slowly, he tries to talk, his voice a tremulous whisper. MERRICK Yyyy... Yyye... yyyess. TREVES (grabbing Merrick's arm) Yes John! Throughout their dialogue, Merrick is still very garbled, but he no longer babbles. He makes a great effort to speak slowly, to form words the way Treves forms them, to be understood. MERRICK ...Yyes TREVES Yyyess. MERRICK Yyess. TREVES That's much better. I could understand that "yes". MERRICK (pleased) Yes! TREVES Very good! Oh yes! Now listen. I'm going to say some things to you and I want you to repeat them... um... I want you to say them back to me. Do you understand? I'm going to say some things to you and I want you to say them back to me. Do you understand? MERRICK Yes. TREVES Excellent! Now, say... "Hello" MERRICK Hello... TREVES My name is... MERRICK My... name is... TREVES John Merrick. MERRICK John... Merrick TREVES Say "Merrick". MERRICK Merrick... TREVES Say "Mmmerrick." MERRICK Mmmerrick. TREVES Say "Mmmerrick." MERRICK Mmmerrick. TREVES Well, that's alright. I understand you. Now, say the whole thing again, Hello ... MERRICK (haltingly) Hello... my name is... John Merrick. DISSOLVE TO HALLWAY Mrs. Mothershead comes out of the kitchen with a supper tray and walks down the hall, passing the open ward door. We see nurses serving patients their supper. Nora comes out of the ward with a tray which she holds tightly against her. A bowl of soup is spilling on her apron. She catches up with Mothershead. They speak as they walk. NORA Oh, Mrs. Mothershead, please forgive my behavior yesterday. I'm sorry if you're having to do extra work on my account. It was just seeing it... MOTHERSHEAD Patients here are not "its". They are either "he's" or "she's", but that's alright, Ireland. This one's going to be more work for all of us. Good God girl! Mind your broth. Mothershead continues on. Nora guiltily watches her go. ISOLATION WARD Treves and Merrick are absorbed in their work. A knock comes at the door. TREVES Come in. Mothershead enters. TREVES Why, my dear Mrs. Mothershead, how good of you to join us. Mr. Merrick, will you please introduce yourself? MERRICK (hesitantly) Hello, my name is John Merrick. MOTHERSHEAD Good Lord, Mr. Treves! TREVES (exuberantly) We've made tremendous strides today, Mothershead. He listens and repeats with great attention, and this certainly isn't easy for him. MOTHERSHEAD Parrots can do as much, Mr. Treves. It's all very nice, but I don't see the point. You know they won't let him stay here. TREVES (lowering his voice) I'm sure that if Mr. Merrick made a good impression on the hospital committee they'd see that he's the exception to their rule. Now I'm not expecting miracles. I'm not saying he'll be able to read or write, but I do think that I can get him to speak for himself. I'm going to arrange things with Carr Gomm right now. (to Merrick) That was very good, John, very good. That's all for today. We shall do some more tomorrow. Mothershead? Mrs. Mothershead sets the tray down beside Merrick. TREVES I'll see you soon. He and Mothershead exit. Merrick watches the door close. He sighs quietly, looks about, and sees the Bible on the bedside table. He picks it up and, gently runs his fingers over the cover. RECEIVING ROOM - THE LONDON There is total pandemonium in the receiving room. The room is filled with screaming men, women and children. Two drunken women have been fighting with broken bottles and are now covered with blood and cuts. The women are still hysterical, one minute they're sobbing, then in an instant screaming and intent upon fighting again. The crowd keeps them apart. Two Bobbies stand in the background making no move to intercede. To the side we see Bytes watching everything. It is still too violent a scene for the Nurses to come to the women's aide and they stand up in the front of the room waiting. Bytes makes his way along the side of the crowd waiting for a chance to get behind the Nurses and on into the hospital. Now the women begin sobbing again and things quiet some. The Nurses come forward into the crowd. Bytes moves over closer to the hallways. When the Nurses have all gone into the crowd he seizes the chance and disappears into the hospital. CUT TO: Bytes appears and walks down hospital hallway looking about. CARR GOMM'S OFFICE The door opens and Treves enters. CARR (V.O.) Ah, Treves... Treves sits in the armchair. Carr Gomm is sitting at his desk. CARR Have you contacted the British Home and the Royal Hospital? TREVES Ah, no sir. I had planned to see them in the morning. CARR Good! How is the patient? TREVES He's doing very well. In fact that's why I came to see you. I think that if I were to present Mr. Merrick to the hospital committee, then they would have a chance to see for themselves not only the extraordinary nature of the disease, but of the man as well. If the committee had a chance to speak with him, hear him say a few words for himself, I'm sure they would see him as a patient, rather than as a violation of the rules. CARR A few words? I thought he was imbecile? TREVES Well sir, perhaps I should explain... CARR I really don't think that's necessary Treves. I'm quite sure the committee will be able to make an equitable decision on the merits of the case, such as they are. TREVES I don't agree. No one can make a reasonable decision about this man's future without at least meeting him. No doctor would presume to diagnose a patient he had never met. CARR No, Treves, it's out of the question. Now if it was up to me, I'd say "Certainly, let's meet the fellow, by all means," I'm sorry, I simply can't speak for the other members of the committee. TREVES Then will you meet him, as a representative of the committee. CARR Mr. Treves, it's out of the question. I want to hear as soon as possible what the other hospitals can do. I'm sorry. HALLWAY - STAIRCASE - THE LONDON We see Treves leave Carr Gomm's office and walk toward us to the stairwell. As Treves begins down the stairs, he sees Bytes on the next landing coming up. Bytes spots him and goes toward him. BYTES I want my man back. TREVES Just a moment, how did you get in here? BYTES Never mind that, I want my man! TREVES He's still very sick. Please come downstairs with me. I'll explain the situation. BYTES (shouting) DON'T... Don't muck me about. You've had plenty of time to fix him up, and he's leaving with me, NOW. Do you understand me? Now, Mr. Treves. We had a bargain! TREVES You misunderstood. This man suffered a severe fall, if you take my meaning. He's my patient now and I must do what... BYTES Pull the other one, why don't you! We made a deal! TREVES I know what you've done to him and he's never going back to that. BYTES He's a freak! That's how they live. We're partners, him and I, business partners. You're willfully deprivin' me of my livlihood! TREVES All you do is profit from another man's misery! BYTES You think you're better 'n me? YOU wanted the freak to show all your doctor chums and make a name for yourself, you guv. So I gave him to you. On trust, in the name of science! And now I want him back. TREVES You don't own this man! BYTES I want him back! TREVES So you can beat him? So you can starve him? A dog in the street would fare better with you! BYTES I've got my rights, damn you, and I'm going to the authorities! CARR (V.O.) Well, go to the authorities... Now we see Carr Gomm standing above them, at the top of the stairs. CARR By all means do so. In fact, I'll fetch them myself. I'm quite sure they'd be very interested in your story, as well as ours. Livid, Bytes looks from Carr Gomm to Treves, at a loss for words. TREVES Now I think we really do understand one another. BYTES (venomously) Right... Right. He backs slowly down to the landing eyeing Treves and Carr Gomm. At the landing he casually turns and disappears down more stairs. Treves turns and gazes at Carr Gomm. CARR Singularly unpleasant chap... uh... I don't suppose there would be any harm in my meeting your... patient, Mr. Treves. TREVES (gratefully) Thank you very much Sir. Shall we say in a few days then? CARR Shall we say two o'clock tomorrow afternoon? TREVES (slightly taken aback) Wh... whatever is most convenient for you, sir. CARR Two o'clock then... you know Treves... It seems this acquaintance of yours has become rather more than just an acquaintance. TREVES ...Yes, Sir. They part company. We follow Treves down the stairs. TREVES (muttering) Two o'clock? Then we follow Carr Gomm to his office door. He stops short. CARR (mumbling out loud) Elephant Man? I don't want to meet an Elephant Man. HALLWAYS - THE LONDON (NIGHT) Again, the hospital is closing down for the night. Lights go off in each hallway. The staff is vacating the hospital. As the last light goes off, we hear the great iron door slam shut. TREVES' HOUSE - BEDROOM (NIGHT) Anne is at her dressing table, brushing out her hair. She is in a very flattering dressing gown, ready to turn in. We see her reflected in the mirror as well as Treves who is in his robe in the background seated at his side of their bed, deep in thought. Anne looks at Treves and smiles affectionately. ANNE (coyly) Freddie? Getting no response she renews her efforts. ANNE Freddie?... Freddie, don't look so discouraged. TREVES I shouldn't be. We made great progress today. I taught him to repeat a few basic phrases. He did rather well, too, but I had to lead him every step of the way. Though frankly, at times I was unsure of who was leading whom. ANNE What do you mean? TREVES Well, I wasn't sure whether he was parroting me because that's all he was capable of, or whether he sensed that that's all I wanted to hear, and he was trying to please me. ANNE But I thought you said that he was rather... simple? TREVES He is. I mean, I've always thought he was. I think he must be. Is he simple? Or is that just something I've wished upon him to make things simpler for myself? Anne puts down the brush and rises. ANNE Frederick, why are you so interested in this particular case? TREVES I don't know. I can't explain it. If this is an intelligent man, trapped in the body of a monster, then I'm under a moral obligation to help free that mind, free that spirit as best I can, to help him live as full and content a life as possible. But! If he's an imbecile, who's body I can't treat and who's mind I can't touch, well, then my obligation is discharged. They can put him where they will; he won't be bothered, I won't be bothered, and everyone's conscience can remain free and untroubled. And that is my dilemma... what is in his mind? Anne, sympathizing with his concerns goes to him and puts her arms around him. ANNE Perhaps you're just polishing a stone, endowing this Elephant Man with qualities he doesn't possess? TREVES (impatiently) And what qualities are those? Intelligence or stupidity? ANNE (slightly hurt) I'm sure I don't know, Freddie. She releases Treves and lies down. Treves realizes that perhaps he has been unkind. TREVES I'm sorry... I don't know either. I just don't know. ANNE Well, these things take time. TREVES I've only got until two o'clock tomorrow afternoon, when Carr Gomm meets him. Somehow, between now and then I've got to make John Merrick at least seem like an intelligent man... Why am I fooling myself? Nothing short of John delivering the Sermon on the Mount is going to sway Carr Gomm... Anne sits back up and gently places her hand over Treves' mouth. As she does so she leans forward and turns out the light. ISOLATION WARD Merrick is propped up in bed. Suddenly the door bursts open. The Night Porter, an arm around a drunken giggling tart, stands in the doorway. As soon as the Charwoman sees Merrick, she screams as does Merrick, and she wriggles free, making for the stairs. The Night Porter watches her go and then turns to Merrick laughing noisily. He then pulls the door shut with a bang. Merrick, very frightened, crawls down into his hiding place. BEDROOM (MORNING) We see Anne alone in bed, asleep. Treves is finished dressing and leaves the room. The sound of the door closing awakens Anne. She looks around for Treves. A clock reads 5:30. ISOLATION WARD Merrick's disguise hangs on the wall. MERRICK (V.O.) The Lord is my shepherd, I shall not want, he maketh me to lie down in green pastures; He leadeth me beside still waters. He restoreth my soul: He Guideth me in the paths of righteousness... TREVES Righteousness... MERRICK (V.O.) Righteousness for his namesake. WE NOW SEE TREVES AND MERRICK TREVES Very good, very good. Now, when your visitor comes today I want you to say it exactly the way you said it just now. I will introduce him to you and you will say the words you've learned. If you have any trouble with any of the words, I'll help you. I'm sure you'll be just fine. If you do as well for him as you've done for me these last two days, then I'm sure our visitor will be very pleased. Now, let's go through the whole thing again, shall we? I will say "May I introduce you to Mr. Carr Gomm." And you will say... MERRICK Hello, my name is John Merrick. I am very pleased to meet you! HALLWAY Treves and Carr Gomm are speaking together as they walk along. TREVES It's only a physical problem. He has trouble with certain sounds because of the constrictive deformity of the mouth. But he can talk, and has a great eagerness to make contact with people who will let him. So if you have any difficulty understanding what he is saying, just tell me and I'll make it clear. CARR Speaking is one thing, Treves, but can the man comprehend? Treves cannot easily answer this question. TREVES ...As I said, it's only a physical problem... but I do feel that Mr. Merrick is very flattered that you're taking the time and trouble to meet him, and he's most anxious to make a good impression, so he might seem rather nervous. CARR He needn't. I have no desire to cause him any discomfort. Did you make those inquiries we spoke about? TREVES Yes, I spoke to both the British Home and Royal Hospital for Incurables. I'm afraid that they weren't very encouraging, but they said they'd bring it up at their next committee meeting, so we should have their answers shortly. CARR Fine, fine. You know, your dedication to this patient is an inspiring thing, Treves. But you must remember that this is a hospital, and there are many patients here. Patients who can be made well, and you owe them your first consideration. Just don't become so obsessed, old man, that you begin to neglect them. Carr Gomm starts up the stairs. Treves remains behind, watching him for a moment, then follows. ISOLATION WARD Merrick is standing beside his disguise on its hook. He nervously smooths the cloak down, repositions the Bible on the bedside table and smooths the cloak again. He looks at the door, expecting it to open. It doesn't. His hands smooths the cloak over and over again. Voices can be heard outside the door. Merrick freezes. There are two raps at the door. Merrick flinches, clutching the cloak. The raps are repeated. He pulls himself together and walks to the middle of the room. He takes a deep breath and closes his eyes. MERRICK Come in. The door opens and Treves and Carr Gomm enter. Carr Gomm's eyes are rivited on Merrick, but he contains his shock. Merrick is breathing unevenly, his eyes still closed. Treves goes to him and touches his shoulder. Merrick opens his eyes and looks up at Treves. Treves turns to Carr Gomm, as does Merrick. Carr Gomm lowers his eyes. TREVES John, may I introduce you to Sir Carr Gomm. MERRICK Hello... my name is John Merrick. I am very pleased to meet you. Carr Gomm, still shaken, instinctively offers his hand. CARR I'm very... pleased to meet you. Before Carr Gomm can withdraw his hand, Merrick grasps it with his left hand. There is an uncomfortable silence. Merrick releases it. Carr Gomn, nervously clears his throat. CARR How are you feeling today? MERRICK I feel much better. Thank you for asking. And you? CARR I'm feeling very fit, thank you. How is your bronchitis? MERRICK I feel much better. Thank you. CARR Are you comfortable here? MERRICK Everyone has been very kind. I am extremely grateful. TREVES Mr. Merrick likes the food here. Don't you John? MERRICK Oh yes! It is much better than what I am used to. CARR Oh yes? TREVES (after a pause) And what was that, John? MERRICK Potatoes... There is another agonizing silence. TREVES (to Carr Gomm) ...Yes potatoes... but... MERRICK But the variety of food here is very pleasing... I commend you. CARR (after a pause) I understand that you were beaten? Merrick is at a loss. This is not part of the expected scenario. DIERRICK Oh no, everyone has been very kind. CARR No, I meant in your former situation. Merrick doesn't seem to understand. MERRICK I'm feeling much better now... Carr Gomm stares levelly at Treves for a moment, then asks Merrick: CARR Tell me, how do you like Mr. Treves? As a teacher? Treves stiffens. MERRICK ...I... everyone has been very kind to me. CARR Of course. How long did you and Mr. Treves prepare for this interview? Merrick looks at Treves for guidance, but Treves cannot look him in the eye. MERRICK ...everyone has been very kind. CARR Yes, of course... Well, it's been a pleasure meeting you, Mr. Merrick. Good day. TREVES (to John) Thank you, John. You did very well. Treves and Carr Gomm go out the door onto the landing. Merrick sees his chance escaping him and tries to recapture their attention. MERRICK (his voice is gaining strength) The Lord is my shepherd, I shall not want. He maketh me to lie down in green pastures... (he continues through the following dialogue) Treves and Carr Gomm are alone on the landing, speaking quietly. CARR It was a nice try, Treves, but the man is so obviously mouthing your words. TREVES Yes, I'm very sorry to have wasted your time, sir. I just felt that I had to do anything I could to protect him. CARR I'm sorry too. He simply doesn't belong here. He's be much happier somewhere else, where he could be constantly looked after. Believe me, Frederick, it's better that it worked out this way. Good day. Merrick has come to the end of what Treves taught him to say. He makes one last, desperate attempt to be heard. Treves, disheartened, stands on the landing as Carr Gomm starts down the stairs. MERRICK (V.O.) (now full voice) Yea, though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I will fear no evil, for Thou art with me; Thy rod and Thy staff, they comfort me... Treves is staring, open-mouthed, back into the room. Carr Gomm looks up at him. CARR What is it, Treves? MERRICK (V.O.) Thou preparest a table before me in the presence of mine enemies, Thou anointest my head with oil... TREVES I didn't teach him that part! Treves rushes back into the room, followed by Carr Gomm. MERRICK My cup runneth over. Surely goodness and loving kindness shall follow me all the days of my life, and I shall dwell in the house of the Lord forever. There is a long silence as all three men stare at each other. TREVES How did you, know the rest? I never taught you the rest of it. CARR I don't understand. TREVES Tell me, John, how did you know the rest of the 23rd Psalm? MERRICK (hesitantly) I... I used to read the Bible every day. I know it very well. The Bible, and the Book of Common Prayer. The 23rd Psalm is very beautiful. ISOLATION WARD A few minutes later. We hear voices inside the room. CARR (V.O.) It was a great pleasure to meet you, Mr. Merrick. MERRICK I am very pleased to meet you. CARR I hope we can talk together again sometime. Good day. The door opens and Carr Gomm and Treves come out. TREVES (to Merrick) I'll be right back. He closes the door. CARR I want to see you in my office as soon as you're through up here. We've a good deal to discuss. He starts down the stairs. TREVES Of course, sir. Thank you, thank you very much. Carr Gomm stops on the stairs. CARR Treves. Well done. TREVES Not me, sir. Mr. Merrick. He succeeded in spite of my shortsightedness. ISOLATION WARD Merrick is on the bed, propped up by pillows. The door opens. Treves comes in, shuts the door and leans against it. They look at each other for a moment. TREVES Why did you let me go on like that, teaching you what you already knew? Why didn't you tell me you could read? MERRICK You did not ask me. TREVES I never thought to ask. How can you ever forgive me? MERRICK Oh, no do not say that. You have been so kind to me. I was afraid to say too much. People always want me to be quiet. You wanted me to speak, but I was afraid. Forgive me. TREVES We do have a lot to talk about, don't we? CARR GOMM'S OFFICE Carr Gomm is seated at the window, looking out silently. There is a knock at the door and Treves enters. He quietly closes the door and walks to the window. Carr Gomm never moves. CARR Can you imagine what his life has been like? TREVES Yes, I think I can. CARR No you can't. You can't begin to know, no one can. Carr Gomm suddenly stands and faces Treves. CARR You are quite right, Treves, this is an exceptional case. And I quite agree that the committee should see Mr. Merrick. TREVES I could easily arrange... CARR No, not that way. Broadneck and the others don't like to deal with patients directly. It makes them queasy... Do you have any photographs of Mr. Merrick? TREVES Well, yes. CARR Excellent. We shall present them, along with the other particulars of the case to the committee. I want them to see, exactly, how horribly his body has been affected. You and I shall vouch for his inner qualities. TREVES Do you think they'll go along with us? CARR Of course they will. They're reasonable men. ISOLATION WARD Merrick is in bed, very tired. It's been an exhausting day. Suddenly the door opens and Mothershead comes into the room. Merrick looks up at her very apprehensively. She walks over to the bed, picks up the Bible from the table, opens it and hands it to Merrick. MOTHERSHEAD Read it. Merrick looks down at the Bible. MERRICK Thou heardest my voice; hide not thine ear at my breathing, At my cry. Mothershead backs slowly to the door, deeply disturbed. She stares at Merrick for a moment. MOTHERSHEAD Credit where credit is due. You'll have the paper every morning at breakfast. She quickly turns and exits. Merrick looks down at the Bible. It is open to "Lamentations". HALLWAY - THE LONDON (NIGHT) As before the lights are going off in one hallway after another. The hallways are empty, dark and silent. We hear the great iron door close with a bang. ISOLATION WARD (NIGHT) Merrick is in his bed as always. He holds the portrait of the beautiful woman, gazing at it longingly. He hears a door close far away in the silence of the hospital. Suddenly we hear the heavy footfalls of the Night Porter's boots. As they get louder and louder we move slowly closer to Merrick's face. The sound is very close now, and Merrick's eyes are visibly agitated. Finally, the door bursts open and the Night Porter is standing there. He stares malevolently at Merrick for a long moment and then walks to him menacingly. NIGHT PORTER I hear you have some trouble sleepin'... He grabs Merrick fiercely by the hair and jerks his head back. Merrick immediately starts to wheeze and gasp. NIGHT PORTER Head's too heavy, eh? He pulls Merrick all the way down onto the bed, so that he is prone, struggling for breath. NIGHT PORTER And I heard a nasty rumor about you; I heard you can talk but you can't, can you... can you... can you?... MERRICK (struggling) Noooo! The Night Porter is as first surprised, and then pleased at the desperate sound. NIGHT PORTER No... No you can't! One word about me out of that stinking cakehole... Just ONE word, and you'll have no trouble at sleepin'... no trouble at all. You understand me? Do you!! MERRICK (croaking) Yyyesss. Satisfied, the Night Porter rights Merrick who is just able to catch his breath. The Night Porter smiles and pats Merrick on the shoulder. NIGHT PORTER There now, that's better, i'n' it? HALLWAY Treves and Carr Gomm are on their way to the committee meeting, confident of their position. Treves is holding a folder, and Carr Gomm is looking at the photographs of Merrick. CARR As far as I can see, the only obstacle might be Broadneck. He has enormous influence over the others, very old school, not an easy man to impress. In any case, if worse does come to worse, we still have the British and Royal Homes to fall back on, don't we. Treves is silent. They stop. CARR Don't we? TREVES No, we don't. Their committees have informed me that they're unwilling to take Mr. Merrick, even if they were supplied with funds. They don't want

which

How many times the word 'which' appears in the text?

you? He puts the bowl down again and goes back to Merrick, who seems very upset at leaving his hiding place. TREVES Now please, John, you must do as I say. Come up from there. He starts to help Merrick up, but Merrick just presses himself farther back in the corner, still babbling. There are two raps at the door. Treves goes to it and lets Mothershead in. MOTHERSHEAD Good morning, Mr. Treves. It'll be his bath-time soon. Has he eaten? TREVES Not quite yet, Mrs. Mothershead. There seems to be some difficulty this morning. They both look at the bed. Merrick has almost disappeared under it. MOTHERSHEAD Won't come out, eh? TREVES No, he's very upset about something. MOTHERSHEAD Just being obstinate, sir. I'll handle it. She goes to Merrick and takes hold of his left wrist. MOTHERSHEAD Alright, my son, none of this fuss. Come up from there, this instant. She starts to force him up from the floor. Merrick is moaning now, still trying to get away. TREVES No! Don't pull at him like that. We don't want to frighten him more than he already is. By this time Mothershead has almost got him back on the bed. MOTHERSHEAD Honestly, sir, you must be very firm with this sort. Otherwise they'd lay about on the floor gibbering all day long. All he understands is a good smack. They help Merrick settle back on the pillow. Merrick is still making desperate, unintelligible sounds. TREVES He's had his share of "smacks", Mothershead. I expect that's what drives him under the bed. We must use patience and understanding with this man. MOTHERSHEAD Perhaps you've got the time for that, Mr. Treves, I certainly don't. I've got an entire hospital to look after, and you have your real patients. Don't waste your time with him sir, it's like talking to a wall. I don't mean to be harsh, but truthfully what can you do for him? I'll be back later for his bath. And Mr. Carr Gomm would like to see you when you have a moment. Good day sir. She exits. Treves shuts the door behind her and turns back to the bed. TREVES (to himself) What good am I to you...? He goes to the bed and sits down in front of Merrick, angered by his own seeming uselessness in the situation. TREVES ...What is my purpose? ...It's so important that I understand you. I want to help you, I want to be your doctor... (directly to Merrick) but I can't help you unless you help me, unless I know what you are feeling. I believe there's something back there, there's something you want to say, but I've got to understand you. Do you understand me? Merrick hesitates, then starts babbling again. TREVES No! You are going to talk to me! We are going to show them! We're going to show them that you're not a wall. We are going to talk! Do you understand? Nod your head if you understand me! Slowly Merrick nods yes. TREVES You do understand me! You understand. Now you're going to say it. I've got to hear how you say things. Now, very slowly, say "yes." Treves carefully mouths the word. TREVES "Yes." Merrick is still hesitant, from years of fear, but his eyes betray a growing excitement. Slowly, he tries to talk, his voice a tremulous whisper. MERRICK Yyyy... Yyye... yyyess. TREVES (grabbing Merrick's arm) Yes John! Throughout their dialogue, Merrick is still very garbled, but he no longer babbles. He makes a great effort to speak slowly, to form words the way Treves forms them, to be understood. MERRICK ...Yyes TREVES Yyyess. MERRICK Yyess. TREVES That's much better. I could understand that "yes". MERRICK (pleased) Yes! TREVES Very good! Oh yes! Now listen. I'm going to say some things to you and I want you to repeat them... um... I want you to say them back to me. Do you understand? I'm going to say some things to you and I want you to say them back to me. Do you understand? MERRICK Yes. TREVES Excellent! Now, say... "Hello" MERRICK Hello... TREVES My name is... MERRICK My... name is... TREVES John Merrick. MERRICK John... Merrick TREVES Say "Merrick". MERRICK Merrick... TREVES Say "Mmmerrick." MERRICK Mmmerrick. TREVES Say "Mmmerrick." MERRICK Mmmerrick. TREVES Well, that's alright. I understand you. Now, say the whole thing again, Hello ... MERRICK (haltingly) Hello... my name is... John Merrick. DISSOLVE TO HALLWAY Mrs. Mothershead comes out of the kitchen with a supper tray and walks down the hall, passing the open ward door. We see nurses serving patients their supper. Nora comes out of the ward with a tray which she holds tightly against her. A bowl of soup is spilling on her apron. She catches up with Mothershead. They speak as they walk. NORA Oh, Mrs. Mothershead, please forgive my behavior yesterday. I'm sorry if you're having to do extra work on my account. It was just seeing it... MOTHERSHEAD Patients here are not "its". They are either "he's" or "she's", but that's alright, Ireland. This one's going to be more work for all of us. Good God girl! Mind your broth. Mothershead continues on. Nora guiltily watches her go. ISOLATION WARD Treves and Merrick are absorbed in their work. A knock comes at the door. TREVES Come in. Mothershead enters. TREVES Why, my dear Mrs. Mothershead, how good of you to join us. Mr. Merrick, will you please introduce yourself? MERRICK (hesitantly) Hello, my name is John Merrick. MOTHERSHEAD Good Lord, Mr. Treves! TREVES (exuberantly) We've made tremendous strides today, Mothershead. He listens and repeats with great attention, and this certainly isn't easy for him. MOTHERSHEAD Parrots can do as much, Mr. Treves. It's all very nice, but I don't see the point. You know they won't let him stay here. TREVES (lowering his voice) I'm sure that if Mr. Merrick made a good impression on the hospital committee they'd see that he's the exception to their rule. Now I'm not expecting miracles. I'm not saying he'll be able to read or write, but I do think that I can get him to speak for himself. I'm going to arrange things with Carr Gomm right now. (to Merrick) That was very good, John, very good. That's all for today. We shall do some more tomorrow. Mothershead? Mrs. Mothershead sets the tray down beside Merrick. TREVES I'll see you soon. He and Mothershead exit. Merrick watches the door close. He sighs quietly, looks about, and sees the Bible on the bedside table. He picks it up and, gently runs his fingers over the cover. RECEIVING ROOM - THE LONDON There is total pandemonium in the receiving room. The room is filled with screaming men, women and children. Two drunken women have been fighting with broken bottles and are now covered with blood and cuts. The women are still hysterical, one minute they're sobbing, then in an instant screaming and intent upon fighting again. The crowd keeps them apart. Two Bobbies stand in the background making no move to intercede. To the side we see Bytes watching everything. It is still too violent a scene for the Nurses to come to the women's aide and they stand up in the front of the room waiting. Bytes makes his way along the side of the crowd waiting for a chance to get behind the Nurses and on into the hospital. Now the women begin sobbing again and things quiet some. The Nurses come forward into the crowd. Bytes moves over closer to the hallways. When the Nurses have all gone into the crowd he seizes the chance and disappears into the hospital. CUT TO: Bytes appears and walks down hospital hallway looking about. CARR GOMM'S OFFICE The door opens and Treves enters. CARR (V.O.) Ah, Treves... Treves sits in the armchair. Carr Gomm is sitting at his desk. CARR Have you contacted the British Home and the Royal Hospital? TREVES Ah, no sir. I had planned to see them in the morning. CARR Good! How is the patient? TREVES He's doing very well. In fact that's why I came to see you. I think that if I were to present Mr. Merrick to the hospital committee, then they would have a chance to see for themselves not only the extraordinary nature of the disease, but of the man as well. If the committee had a chance to speak with him, hear him say a few words for himself, I'm sure they would see him as a patient, rather than as a violation of the rules. CARR A few words? I thought he was imbecile? TREVES Well sir, perhaps I should explain... CARR I really don't think that's necessary Treves. I'm quite sure the committee will be able to make an equitable decision on the merits of the case, such as they are. TREVES I don't agree. No one can make a reasonable decision about this man's future without at least meeting him. No doctor would presume to diagnose a patient he had never met. CARR No, Treves, it's out of the question. Now if it was up to me, I'd say "Certainly, let's meet the fellow, by all means," I'm sorry, I simply can't speak for the other members of the committee. TREVES Then will you meet him, as a representative of the committee. CARR Mr. Treves, it's out of the question. I want to hear as soon as possible what the other hospitals can do. I'm sorry. HALLWAY - STAIRCASE - THE LONDON We see Treves leave Carr Gomm's office and walk toward us to the stairwell. As Treves begins down the stairs, he sees Bytes on the next landing coming up. Bytes spots him and goes toward him. BYTES I want my man back. TREVES Just a moment, how did you get in here? BYTES Never mind that, I want my man! TREVES He's still very sick. Please come downstairs with me. I'll explain the situation. BYTES (shouting) DON'T... Don't muck me about. You've had plenty of time to fix him up, and he's leaving with me, NOW. Do you understand me? Now, Mr. Treves. We had a bargain! TREVES You misunderstood. This man suffered a severe fall, if you take my meaning. He's my patient now and I must do what... BYTES Pull the other one, why don't you! We made a deal! TREVES I know what you've done to him and he's never going back to that. BYTES He's a freak! That's how they live. We're partners, him and I, business partners. You're willfully deprivin' me of my livlihood! TREVES All you do is profit from another man's misery! BYTES You think you're better 'n me? YOU wanted the freak to show all your doctor chums and make a name for yourself, you guv. So I gave him to you. On trust, in the name of science! And now I want him back. TREVES You don't own this man! BYTES I want him back! TREVES So you can beat him? So you can starve him? A dog in the street would fare better with you! BYTES I've got my rights, damn you, and I'm going to the authorities! CARR (V.O.) Well, go to the authorities... Now we see Carr Gomm standing above them, at the top of the stairs. CARR By all means do so. In fact, I'll fetch them myself. I'm quite sure they'd be very interested in your story, as well as ours. Livid, Bytes looks from Carr Gomm to Treves, at a loss for words. TREVES Now I think we really do understand one another. BYTES (venomously) Right... Right. He backs slowly down to the landing eyeing Treves and Carr Gomm. At the landing he casually turns and disappears down more stairs. Treves turns and gazes at Carr Gomm. CARR Singularly unpleasant chap... uh... I don't suppose there would be any harm in my meeting your... patient, Mr. Treves. TREVES (gratefully) Thank you very much Sir. Shall we say in a few days then? CARR Shall we say two o'clock tomorrow afternoon? TREVES (slightly taken aback) Wh... whatever is most convenient for you, sir. CARR Two o'clock then... you know Treves... It seems this acquaintance of yours has become rather more than just an acquaintance. TREVES ...Yes, Sir. They part company. We follow Treves down the stairs. TREVES (muttering) Two o'clock? Then we follow Carr Gomm to his office door. He stops short. CARR (mumbling out loud) Elephant Man? I don't want to meet an Elephant Man. HALLWAYS - THE LONDON (NIGHT) Again, the hospital is closing down for the night. Lights go off in each hallway. The staff is vacating the hospital. As the last light goes off, we hear the great iron door slam shut. TREVES' HOUSE - BEDROOM (NIGHT) Anne is at her dressing table, brushing out her hair. She is in a very flattering dressing gown, ready to turn in. We see her reflected in the mirror as well as Treves who is in his robe in the background seated at his side of their bed, deep in thought. Anne looks at Treves and smiles affectionately. ANNE (coyly) Freddie? Getting no response she renews her efforts. ANNE Freddie?... Freddie, don't look so discouraged. TREVES I shouldn't be. We made great progress today. I taught him to repeat a few basic phrases. He did rather well, too, but I had to lead him every step of the way. Though frankly, at times I was unsure of who was leading whom. ANNE What do you mean? TREVES Well, I wasn't sure whether he was parroting me because that's all he was capable of, or whether he sensed that that's all I wanted to hear, and he was trying to please me. ANNE But I thought you said that he was rather... simple? TREVES He is. I mean, I've always thought he was. I think he must be. Is he simple? Or is that just something I've wished upon him to make things simpler for myself? Anne puts down the brush and rises. ANNE Frederick, why are you so interested in this particular case? TREVES I don't know. I can't explain it. If this is an intelligent man, trapped in the body of a monster, then I'm under a moral obligation to help free that mind, free that spirit as best I can, to help him live as full and content a life as possible. But! If he's an imbecile, who's body I can't treat and who's mind I can't touch, well, then my obligation is discharged. They can put him where they will; he won't be bothered, I won't be bothered, and everyone's conscience can remain free and untroubled. And that is my dilemma... what is in his mind? Anne, sympathizing with his concerns goes to him and puts her arms around him. ANNE Perhaps you're just polishing a stone, endowing this Elephant Man with qualities he doesn't possess? TREVES (impatiently) And what qualities are those? Intelligence or stupidity? ANNE (slightly hurt) I'm sure I don't know, Freddie. She releases Treves and lies down. Treves realizes that perhaps he has been unkind. TREVES I'm sorry... I don't know either. I just don't know. ANNE Well, these things take time. TREVES I've only got until two o'clock tomorrow afternoon, when Carr Gomm meets him. Somehow, between now and then I've got to make John Merrick at least seem like an intelligent man... Why am I fooling myself? Nothing short of John delivering the Sermon on the Mount is going to sway Carr Gomm... Anne sits back up and gently places her hand over Treves' mouth. As she does so she leans forward and turns out the light. ISOLATION WARD Merrick is propped up in bed. Suddenly the door bursts open. The Night Porter, an arm around a drunken giggling tart, stands in the doorway. As soon as the Charwoman sees Merrick, she screams as does Merrick, and she wriggles free, making for the stairs. The Night Porter watches her go and then turns to Merrick laughing noisily. He then pulls the door shut with a bang. Merrick, very frightened, crawls down into his hiding place. BEDROOM (MORNING) We see Anne alone in bed, asleep. Treves is finished dressing and leaves the room. The sound of the door closing awakens Anne. She looks around for Treves. A clock reads 5:30. ISOLATION WARD Merrick's disguise hangs on the wall. MERRICK (V.O.) The Lord is my shepherd, I shall not want, he maketh me to lie down in green pastures; He leadeth me beside still waters. He restoreth my soul: He Guideth me in the paths of righteousness... TREVES Righteousness... MERRICK (V.O.) Righteousness for his namesake. WE NOW SEE TREVES AND MERRICK TREVES Very good, very good. Now, when your visitor comes today I want you to say it exactly the way you said it just now. I will introduce him to you and you will say the words you've learned. If you have any trouble with any of the words, I'll help you. I'm sure you'll be just fine. If you do as well for him as you've done for me these last two days, then I'm sure our visitor will be very pleased. Now, let's go through the whole thing again, shall we? I will say "May I introduce you to Mr. Carr Gomm." And you will say... MERRICK Hello, my name is John Merrick. I am very pleased to meet you! HALLWAY Treves and Carr Gomm are speaking together as they walk along. TREVES It's only a physical problem. He has trouble with certain sounds because of the constrictive deformity of the mouth. But he can talk, and has a great eagerness to make contact with people who will let him. So if you have any difficulty understanding what he is saying, just tell me and I'll make it clear. CARR Speaking is one thing, Treves, but can the man comprehend? Treves cannot easily answer this question. TREVES ...As I said, it's only a physical problem... but I do feel that Mr. Merrick is very flattered that you're taking the time and trouble to meet him, and he's most anxious to make a good impression, so he might seem rather nervous. CARR He needn't. I have no desire to cause him any discomfort. Did you make those inquiries we spoke about? TREVES Yes, I spoke to both the British Home and Royal Hospital for Incurables. I'm afraid that they weren't very encouraging, but they said they'd bring it up at their next committee meeting, so we should have their answers shortly. CARR Fine, fine. You know, your dedication to this patient is an inspiring thing, Treves. But you must remember that this is a hospital, and there are many patients here. Patients who can be made well, and you owe them your first consideration. Just don't become so obsessed, old man, that you begin to neglect them. Carr Gomm starts up the stairs. Treves remains behind, watching him for a moment, then follows. ISOLATION WARD Merrick is standing beside his disguise on its hook. He nervously smooths the cloak down, repositions the Bible on the bedside table and smooths the cloak again. He looks at the door, expecting it to open. It doesn't. His hands smooths the cloak over and over again. Voices can be heard outside the door. Merrick freezes. There are two raps at the door. Merrick flinches, clutching the cloak. The raps are repeated. He pulls himself together and walks to the middle of the room. He takes a deep breath and closes his eyes. MERRICK Come in. The door opens and Treves and Carr Gomm enter. Carr Gomm's eyes are rivited on Merrick, but he contains his shock. Merrick is breathing unevenly, his eyes still closed. Treves goes to him and touches his shoulder. Merrick opens his eyes and looks up at Treves. Treves turns to Carr Gomm, as does Merrick. Carr Gomm lowers his eyes. TREVES John, may I introduce you to Sir Carr Gomm. MERRICK Hello... my name is John Merrick. I am very pleased to meet you. Carr Gomm, still shaken, instinctively offers his hand. CARR I'm very... pleased to meet you. Before Carr Gomm can withdraw his hand, Merrick grasps it with his left hand. There is an uncomfortable silence. Merrick releases it. Carr Gomn, nervously clears his throat. CARR How are you feeling today? MERRICK I feel much better. Thank you for asking. And you? CARR I'm feeling very fit, thank you. How is your bronchitis? MERRICK I feel much better. Thank you. CARR Are you comfortable here? MERRICK Everyone has been very kind. I am extremely grateful. TREVES Mr. Merrick likes the food here. Don't you John? MERRICK Oh yes! It is much better than what I am used to. CARR Oh yes? TREVES (after a pause) And what was that, John? MERRICK Potatoes... There is another agonizing silence. TREVES (to Carr Gomm) ...Yes potatoes... but... MERRICK But the variety of food here is very pleasing... I commend you. CARR (after a pause) I understand that you were beaten? Merrick is at a loss. This is not part of the expected scenario. DIERRICK Oh no, everyone has been very kind. CARR No, I meant in your former situation. Merrick doesn't seem to understand. MERRICK I'm feeling much better now... Carr Gomm stares levelly at Treves for a moment, then asks Merrick: CARR Tell me, how do you like Mr. Treves? As a teacher? Treves stiffens. MERRICK ...I... everyone has been very kind to me. CARR Of course. How long did you and Mr. Treves prepare for this interview? Merrick looks at Treves for guidance, but Treves cannot look him in the eye. MERRICK ...everyone has been very kind. CARR Yes, of course... Well, it's been a pleasure meeting you, Mr. Merrick. Good day. TREVES (to John) Thank you, John. You did very well. Treves and Carr Gomm go out the door onto the landing. Merrick sees his chance escaping him and tries to recapture their attention. MERRICK (his voice is gaining strength) The Lord is my shepherd, I shall not want. He maketh me to lie down in green pastures... (he continues through the following dialogue) Treves and Carr Gomm are alone on the landing, speaking quietly. CARR It was a nice try, Treves, but the man is so obviously mouthing your words. TREVES Yes, I'm very sorry to have wasted your time, sir. I just felt that I had to do anything I could to protect him. CARR I'm sorry too. He simply doesn't belong here. He's be much happier somewhere else, where he could be constantly looked after. Believe me, Frederick, it's better that it worked out this way. Good day. Merrick has come to the end of what Treves taught him to say. He makes one last, desperate attempt to be heard. Treves, disheartened, stands on the landing as Carr Gomm starts down the stairs. MERRICK (V.O.) (now full voice) Yea, though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I will fear no evil, for Thou art with me; Thy rod and Thy staff, they comfort me... Treves is staring, open-mouthed, back into the room. Carr Gomm looks up at him. CARR What is it, Treves? MERRICK (V.O.) Thou preparest a table before me in the presence of mine enemies, Thou anointest my head with oil... TREVES I didn't teach him that part! Treves rushes back into the room, followed by Carr Gomm. MERRICK My cup runneth over. Surely goodness and loving kindness shall follow me all the days of my life, and I shall dwell in the house of the Lord forever. There is a long silence as all three men stare at each other. TREVES How did you, know the rest? I never taught you the rest of it. CARR I don't understand. TREVES Tell me, John, how did you know the rest of the 23rd Psalm? MERRICK (hesitantly) I... I used to read the Bible every day. I know it very well. The Bible, and the Book of Common Prayer. The 23rd Psalm is very beautiful. ISOLATION WARD A few minutes later. We hear voices inside the room. CARR (V.O.) It was a great pleasure to meet you, Mr. Merrick. MERRICK I am very pleased to meet you. CARR I hope we can talk together again sometime. Good day. The door opens and Carr Gomm and Treves come out. TREVES (to Merrick) I'll be right back. He closes the door. CARR I want to see you in my office as soon as you're through up here. We've a good deal to discuss. He starts down the stairs. TREVES Of course, sir. Thank you, thank you very much. Carr Gomm stops on the stairs. CARR Treves. Well done. TREVES Not me, sir. Mr. Merrick. He succeeded in spite of my shortsightedness. ISOLATION WARD Merrick is on the bed, propped up by pillows. The door opens. Treves comes in, shuts the door and leans against it. They look at each other for a moment. TREVES Why did you let me go on like that, teaching you what you already knew? Why didn't you tell me you could read? MERRICK You did not ask me. TREVES I never thought to ask. How can you ever forgive me? MERRICK Oh, no do not say that. You have been so kind to me. I was afraid to say too much. People always want me to be quiet. You wanted me to speak, but I was afraid. Forgive me. TREVES We do have a lot to talk about, don't we? CARR GOMM'S OFFICE Carr Gomm is seated at the window, looking out silently. There is a knock at the door and Treves enters. He quietly closes the door and walks to the window. Carr Gomm never moves. CARR Can you imagine what his life has been like? TREVES Yes, I think I can. CARR No you can't. You can't begin to know, no one can. Carr Gomm suddenly stands and faces Treves. CARR You are quite right, Treves, this is an exceptional case. And I quite agree that the committee should see Mr. Merrick. TREVES I could easily arrange... CARR No, not that way. Broadneck and the others don't like to deal with patients directly. It makes them queasy... Do you have any photographs of Mr. Merrick? TREVES Well, yes. CARR Excellent. We shall present them, along with the other particulars of the case to the committee. I want them to see, exactly, how horribly his body has been affected. You and I shall vouch for his inner qualities. TREVES Do you think they'll go along with us? CARR Of course they will. They're reasonable men. ISOLATION WARD Merrick is in bed, very tired. It's been an exhausting day. Suddenly the door opens and Mothershead comes into the room. Merrick looks up at her very apprehensively. She walks over to the bed, picks up the Bible from the table, opens it and hands it to Merrick. MOTHERSHEAD Read it. Merrick looks down at the Bible. MERRICK Thou heardest my voice; hide not thine ear at my breathing, At my cry. Mothershead backs slowly to the door, deeply disturbed. She stares at Merrick for a moment. MOTHERSHEAD Credit where credit is due. You'll have the paper every morning at breakfast. She quickly turns and exits. Merrick looks down at the Bible. It is open to "Lamentations". HALLWAY - THE LONDON (NIGHT) As before the lights are going off in one hallway after another. The hallways are empty, dark and silent. We hear the great iron door close with a bang. ISOLATION WARD (NIGHT) Merrick is in his bed as always. He holds the portrait of the beautiful woman, gazing at it longingly. He hears a door close far away in the silence of the hospital. Suddenly we hear the heavy footfalls of the Night Porter's boots. As they get louder and louder we move slowly closer to Merrick's face. The sound is very close now, and Merrick's eyes are visibly agitated. Finally, the door bursts open and the Night Porter is standing there. He stares malevolently at Merrick for a long moment and then walks to him menacingly. NIGHT PORTER I hear you have some trouble sleepin'... He grabs Merrick fiercely by the hair and jerks his head back. Merrick immediately starts to wheeze and gasp. NIGHT PORTER Head's too heavy, eh? He pulls Merrick all the way down onto the bed, so that he is prone, struggling for breath. NIGHT PORTER And I heard a nasty rumor about you; I heard you can talk but you can't, can you... can you... can you?... MERRICK (struggling) Noooo! The Night Porter is as first surprised, and then pleased at the desperate sound. NIGHT PORTER No... No you can't! One word about me out of that stinking cakehole... Just ONE word, and you'll have no trouble at sleepin'... no trouble at all. You understand me? Do you!! MERRICK (croaking) Yyyesss. Satisfied, the Night Porter rights Merrick who is just able to catch his breath. The Night Porter smiles and pats Merrick on the shoulder. NIGHT PORTER There now, that's better, i'n' it? HALLWAY Treves and Carr Gomm are on their way to the committee meeting, confident of their position. Treves is holding a folder, and Carr Gomm is looking at the photographs of Merrick. CARR As far as I can see, the only obstacle might be Broadneck. He has enormous influence over the others, very old school, not an easy man to impress. In any case, if worse does come to worse, we still have the British and Royal Homes to fall back on, don't we. Treves is silent. They stop. CARR Don't we? TREVES No, we don't. Their committees have informed me that they're unwilling to take Mr. Merrick, even if they were supplied with funds. They don't want

stand

How many times the word 'stand' appears in the text?

you? He puts the bowl down again and goes back to Merrick, who seems very upset at leaving his hiding place. TREVES Now please, John, you must do as I say. Come up from there. He starts to help Merrick up, but Merrick just presses himself farther back in the corner, still babbling. There are two raps at the door. Treves goes to it and lets Mothershead in. MOTHERSHEAD Good morning, Mr. Treves. It'll be his bath-time soon. Has he eaten? TREVES Not quite yet, Mrs. Mothershead. There seems to be some difficulty this morning. They both look at the bed. Merrick has almost disappeared under it. MOTHERSHEAD Won't come out, eh? TREVES No, he's very upset about something. MOTHERSHEAD Just being obstinate, sir. I'll handle it. She goes to Merrick and takes hold of his left wrist. MOTHERSHEAD Alright, my son, none of this fuss. Come up from there, this instant. She starts to force him up from the floor. Merrick is moaning now, still trying to get away. TREVES No! Don't pull at him like that. We don't want to frighten him more than he already is. By this time Mothershead has almost got him back on the bed. MOTHERSHEAD Honestly, sir, you must be very firm with this sort. Otherwise they'd lay about on the floor gibbering all day long. All he understands is a good smack. They help Merrick settle back on the pillow. Merrick is still making desperate, unintelligible sounds. TREVES He's had his share of "smacks", Mothershead. I expect that's what drives him under the bed. We must use patience and understanding with this man. MOTHERSHEAD Perhaps you've got the time for that, Mr. Treves, I certainly don't. I've got an entire hospital to look after, and you have your real patients. Don't waste your time with him sir, it's like talking to a wall. I don't mean to be harsh, but truthfully what can you do for him? I'll be back later for his bath. And Mr. Carr Gomm would like to see you when you have a moment. Good day sir. She exits. Treves shuts the door behind her and turns back to the bed. TREVES (to himself) What good am I to you...? He goes to the bed and sits down in front of Merrick, angered by his own seeming uselessness in the situation. TREVES ...What is my purpose? ...It's so important that I understand you. I want to help you, I want to be your doctor... (directly to Merrick) but I can't help you unless you help me, unless I know what you are feeling. I believe there's something back there, there's something you want to say, but I've got to understand you. Do you understand me? Merrick hesitates, then starts babbling again. TREVES No! You are going to talk to me! We are going to show them! We're going to show them that you're not a wall. We are going to talk! Do you understand? Nod your head if you understand me! Slowly Merrick nods yes. TREVES You do understand me! You understand. Now you're going to say it. I've got to hear how you say things. Now, very slowly, say "yes." Treves carefully mouths the word. TREVES "Yes." Merrick is still hesitant, from years of fear, but his eyes betray a growing excitement. Slowly, he tries to talk, his voice a tremulous whisper. MERRICK Yyyy... Yyye... yyyess. TREVES (grabbing Merrick's arm) Yes John! Throughout their dialogue, Merrick is still very garbled, but he no longer babbles. He makes a great effort to speak slowly, to form words the way Treves forms them, to be understood. MERRICK ...Yyes TREVES Yyyess. MERRICK Yyess. TREVES That's much better. I could understand that "yes". MERRICK (pleased) Yes! TREVES Very good! Oh yes! Now listen. I'm going to say some things to you and I want you to repeat them... um... I want you to say them back to me. Do you understand? I'm going to say some things to you and I want you to say them back to me. Do you understand? MERRICK Yes. TREVES Excellent! Now, say... "Hello" MERRICK Hello... TREVES My name is... MERRICK My... name is... TREVES John Merrick. MERRICK John... Merrick TREVES Say "Merrick". MERRICK Merrick... TREVES Say "Mmmerrick." MERRICK Mmmerrick. TREVES Say "Mmmerrick." MERRICK Mmmerrick. TREVES Well, that's alright. I understand you. Now, say the whole thing again, Hello ... MERRICK (haltingly) Hello... my name is... John Merrick. DISSOLVE TO HALLWAY Mrs. Mothershead comes out of the kitchen with a supper tray and walks down the hall, passing the open ward door. We see nurses serving patients their supper. Nora comes out of the ward with a tray which she holds tightly against her. A bowl of soup is spilling on her apron. She catches up with Mothershead. They speak as they walk. NORA Oh, Mrs. Mothershead, please forgive my behavior yesterday. I'm sorry if you're having to do extra work on my account. It was just seeing it... MOTHERSHEAD Patients here are not "its". They are either "he's" or "she's", but that's alright, Ireland. This one's going to be more work for all of us. Good God girl! Mind your broth. Mothershead continues on. Nora guiltily watches her go. ISOLATION WARD Treves and Merrick are absorbed in their work. A knock comes at the door. TREVES Come in. Mothershead enters. TREVES Why, my dear Mrs. Mothershead, how good of you to join us. Mr. Merrick, will you please introduce yourself? MERRICK (hesitantly) Hello, my name is John Merrick. MOTHERSHEAD Good Lord, Mr. Treves! TREVES (exuberantly) We've made tremendous strides today, Mothershead. He listens and repeats with great attention, and this certainly isn't easy for him. MOTHERSHEAD Parrots can do as much, Mr. Treves. It's all very nice, but I don't see the point. You know they won't let him stay here. TREVES (lowering his voice) I'm sure that if Mr. Merrick made a good impression on the hospital committee they'd see that he's the exception to their rule. Now I'm not expecting miracles. I'm not saying he'll be able to read or write, but I do think that I can get him to speak for himself. I'm going to arrange things with Carr Gomm right now. (to Merrick) That was very good, John, very good. That's all for today. We shall do some more tomorrow. Mothershead? Mrs. Mothershead sets the tray down beside Merrick. TREVES I'll see you soon. He and Mothershead exit. Merrick watches the door close. He sighs quietly, looks about, and sees the Bible on the bedside table. He picks it up and, gently runs his fingers over the cover. RECEIVING ROOM - THE LONDON There is total pandemonium in the receiving room. The room is filled with screaming men, women and children. Two drunken women have been fighting with broken bottles and are now covered with blood and cuts. The women are still hysterical, one minute they're sobbing, then in an instant screaming and intent upon fighting again. The crowd keeps them apart. Two Bobbies stand in the background making no move to intercede. To the side we see Bytes watching everything. It is still too violent a scene for the Nurses to come to the women's aide and they stand up in the front of the room waiting. Bytes makes his way along the side of the crowd waiting for a chance to get behind the Nurses and on into the hospital. Now the women begin sobbing again and things quiet some. The Nurses come forward into the crowd. Bytes moves over closer to the hallways. When the Nurses have all gone into the crowd he seizes the chance and disappears into the hospital. CUT TO: Bytes appears and walks down hospital hallway looking about. CARR GOMM'S OFFICE The door opens and Treves enters. CARR (V.O.) Ah, Treves... Treves sits in the armchair. Carr Gomm is sitting at his desk. CARR Have you contacted the British Home and the Royal Hospital? TREVES Ah, no sir. I had planned to see them in the morning. CARR Good! How is the patient? TREVES He's doing very well. In fact that's why I came to see you. I think that if I were to present Mr. Merrick to the hospital committee, then they would have a chance to see for themselves not only the extraordinary nature of the disease, but of the man as well. If the committee had a chance to speak with him, hear him say a few words for himself, I'm sure they would see him as a patient, rather than as a violation of the rules. CARR A few words? I thought he was imbecile? TREVES Well sir, perhaps I should explain... CARR I really don't think that's necessary Treves. I'm quite sure the committee will be able to make an equitable decision on the merits of the case, such as they are. TREVES I don't agree. No one can make a reasonable decision about this man's future without at least meeting him. No doctor would presume to diagnose a patient he had never met. CARR No, Treves, it's out of the question. Now if it was up to me, I'd say "Certainly, let's meet the fellow, by all means," I'm sorry, I simply can't speak for the other members of the committee. TREVES Then will you meet him, as a representative of the committee. CARR Mr. Treves, it's out of the question. I want to hear as soon as possible what the other hospitals can do. I'm sorry. HALLWAY - STAIRCASE - THE LONDON We see Treves leave Carr Gomm's office and walk toward us to the stairwell. As Treves begins down the stairs, he sees Bytes on the next landing coming up. Bytes spots him and goes toward him. BYTES I want my man back. TREVES Just a moment, how did you get in here? BYTES Never mind that, I want my man! TREVES He's still very sick. Please come downstairs with me. I'll explain the situation. BYTES (shouting) DON'T... Don't muck me about. You've had plenty of time to fix him up, and he's leaving with me, NOW. Do you understand me? Now, Mr. Treves. We had a bargain! TREVES You misunderstood. This man suffered a severe fall, if you take my meaning. He's my patient now and I must do what... BYTES Pull the other one, why don't you! We made a deal! TREVES I know what you've done to him and he's never going back to that. BYTES He's a freak! That's how they live. We're partners, him and I, business partners. You're willfully deprivin' me of my livlihood! TREVES All you do is profit from another man's misery! BYTES You think you're better 'n me? YOU wanted the freak to show all your doctor chums and make a name for yourself, you guv. So I gave him to you. On trust, in the name of science! And now I want him back. TREVES You don't own this man! BYTES I want him back! TREVES So you can beat him? So you can starve him? A dog in the street would fare better with you! BYTES I've got my rights, damn you, and I'm going to the authorities! CARR (V.O.) Well, go to the authorities... Now we see Carr Gomm standing above them, at the top of the stairs. CARR By all means do so. In fact, I'll fetch them myself. I'm quite sure they'd be very interested in your story, as well as ours. Livid, Bytes looks from Carr Gomm to Treves, at a loss for words. TREVES Now I think we really do understand one another. BYTES (venomously) Right... Right. He backs slowly down to the landing eyeing Treves and Carr Gomm. At the landing he casually turns and disappears down more stairs. Treves turns and gazes at Carr Gomm. CARR Singularly unpleasant chap... uh... I don't suppose there would be any harm in my meeting your... patient, Mr. Treves. TREVES (gratefully) Thank you very much Sir. Shall we say in a few days then? CARR Shall we say two o'clock tomorrow afternoon? TREVES (slightly taken aback) Wh... whatever is most convenient for you, sir. CARR Two o'clock then... you know Treves... It seems this acquaintance of yours has become rather more than just an acquaintance. TREVES ...Yes, Sir. They part company. We follow Treves down the stairs. TREVES (muttering) Two o'clock? Then we follow Carr Gomm to his office door. He stops short. CARR (mumbling out loud) Elephant Man? I don't want to meet an Elephant Man. HALLWAYS - THE LONDON (NIGHT) Again, the hospital is closing down for the night. Lights go off in each hallway. The staff is vacating the hospital. As the last light goes off, we hear the great iron door slam shut. TREVES' HOUSE - BEDROOM (NIGHT) Anne is at her dressing table, brushing out her hair. She is in a very flattering dressing gown, ready to turn in. We see her reflected in the mirror as well as Treves who is in his robe in the background seated at his side of their bed, deep in thought. Anne looks at Treves and smiles affectionately. ANNE (coyly) Freddie? Getting no response she renews her efforts. ANNE Freddie?... Freddie, don't look so discouraged. TREVES I shouldn't be. We made great progress today. I taught him to repeat a few basic phrases. He did rather well, too, but I had to lead him every step of the way. Though frankly, at times I was unsure of who was leading whom. ANNE What do you mean? TREVES Well, I wasn't sure whether he was parroting me because that's all he was capable of, or whether he sensed that that's all I wanted to hear, and he was trying to please me. ANNE But I thought you said that he was rather... simple? TREVES He is. I mean, I've always thought he was. I think he must be. Is he simple? Or is that just something I've wished upon him to make things simpler for myself? Anne puts down the brush and rises. ANNE Frederick, why are you so interested in this particular case? TREVES I don't know. I can't explain it. If this is an intelligent man, trapped in the body of a monster, then I'm under a moral obligation to help free that mind, free that spirit as best I can, to help him live as full and content a life as possible. But! If he's an imbecile, who's body I can't treat and who's mind I can't touch, well, then my obligation is discharged. They can put him where they will; he won't be bothered, I won't be bothered, and everyone's conscience can remain free and untroubled. And that is my dilemma... what is in his mind? Anne, sympathizing with his concerns goes to him and puts her arms around him. ANNE Perhaps you're just polishing a stone, endowing this Elephant Man with qualities he doesn't possess? TREVES (impatiently) And what qualities are those? Intelligence or stupidity? ANNE (slightly hurt) I'm sure I don't know, Freddie. She releases Treves and lies down. Treves realizes that perhaps he has been unkind. TREVES I'm sorry... I don't know either. I just don't know. ANNE Well, these things take time. TREVES I've only got until two o'clock tomorrow afternoon, when Carr Gomm meets him. Somehow, between now and then I've got to make John Merrick at least seem like an intelligent man... Why am I fooling myself? Nothing short of John delivering the Sermon on the Mount is going to sway Carr Gomm... Anne sits back up and gently places her hand over Treves' mouth. As she does so she leans forward and turns out the light. ISOLATION WARD Merrick is propped up in bed. Suddenly the door bursts open. The Night Porter, an arm around a drunken giggling tart, stands in the doorway. As soon as the Charwoman sees Merrick, she screams as does Merrick, and she wriggles free, making for the stairs. The Night Porter watches her go and then turns to Merrick laughing noisily. He then pulls the door shut with a bang. Merrick, very frightened, crawls down into his hiding place. BEDROOM (MORNING) We see Anne alone in bed, asleep. Treves is finished dressing and leaves the room. The sound of the door closing awakens Anne. She looks around for Treves. A clock reads 5:30. ISOLATION WARD Merrick's disguise hangs on the wall. MERRICK (V.O.) The Lord is my shepherd, I shall not want, he maketh me to lie down in green pastures; He leadeth me beside still waters. He restoreth my soul: He Guideth me in the paths of righteousness... TREVES Righteousness... MERRICK (V.O.) Righteousness for his namesake. WE NOW SEE TREVES AND MERRICK TREVES Very good, very good. Now, when your visitor comes today I want you to say it exactly the way you said it just now. I will introduce him to you and you will say the words you've learned. If you have any trouble with any of the words, I'll help you. I'm sure you'll be just fine. If you do as well for him as you've done for me these last two days, then I'm sure our visitor will be very pleased. Now, let's go through the whole thing again, shall we? I will say "May I introduce you to Mr. Carr Gomm." And you will say... MERRICK Hello, my name is John Merrick. I am very pleased to meet you! HALLWAY Treves and Carr Gomm are speaking together as they walk along. TREVES It's only a physical problem. He has trouble with certain sounds because of the constrictive deformity of the mouth. But he can talk, and has a great eagerness to make contact with people who will let him. So if you have any difficulty understanding what he is saying, just tell me and I'll make it clear. CARR Speaking is one thing, Treves, but can the man comprehend? Treves cannot easily answer this question. TREVES ...As I said, it's only a physical problem... but I do feel that Mr. Merrick is very flattered that you're taking the time and trouble to meet him, and he's most anxious to make a good impression, so he might seem rather nervous. CARR He needn't. I have no desire to cause him any discomfort. Did you make those inquiries we spoke about? TREVES Yes, I spoke to both the British Home and Royal Hospital for Incurables. I'm afraid that they weren't very encouraging, but they said they'd bring it up at their next committee meeting, so we should have their answers shortly. CARR Fine, fine. You know, your dedication to this patient is an inspiring thing, Treves. But you must remember that this is a hospital, and there are many patients here. Patients who can be made well, and you owe them your first consideration. Just don't become so obsessed, old man, that you begin to neglect them. Carr Gomm starts up the stairs. Treves remains behind, watching him for a moment, then follows. ISOLATION WARD Merrick is standing beside his disguise on its hook. He nervously smooths the cloak down, repositions the Bible on the bedside table and smooths the cloak again. He looks at the door, expecting it to open. It doesn't. His hands smooths the cloak over and over again. Voices can be heard outside the door. Merrick freezes. There are two raps at the door. Merrick flinches, clutching the cloak. The raps are repeated. He pulls himself together and walks to the middle of the room. He takes a deep breath and closes his eyes. MERRICK Come in. The door opens and Treves and Carr Gomm enter. Carr Gomm's eyes are rivited on Merrick, but he contains his shock. Merrick is breathing unevenly, his eyes still closed. Treves goes to him and touches his shoulder. Merrick opens his eyes and looks up at Treves. Treves turns to Carr Gomm, as does Merrick. Carr Gomm lowers his eyes. TREVES John, may I introduce you to Sir Carr Gomm. MERRICK Hello... my name is John Merrick. I am very pleased to meet you. Carr Gomm, still shaken, instinctively offers his hand. CARR I'm very... pleased to meet you. Before Carr Gomm can withdraw his hand, Merrick grasps it with his left hand. There is an uncomfortable silence. Merrick releases it. Carr Gomn, nervously clears his throat. CARR How are you feeling today? MERRICK I feel much better. Thank you for asking. And you? CARR I'm feeling very fit, thank you. How is your bronchitis? MERRICK I feel much better. Thank you. CARR Are you comfortable here? MERRICK Everyone has been very kind. I am extremely grateful. TREVES Mr. Merrick likes the food here. Don't you John? MERRICK Oh yes! It is much better than what I am used to. CARR Oh yes? TREVES (after a pause) And what was that, John? MERRICK Potatoes... There is another agonizing silence. TREVES (to Carr Gomm) ...Yes potatoes... but... MERRICK But the variety of food here is very pleasing... I commend you. CARR (after a pause) I understand that you were beaten? Merrick is at a loss. This is not part of the expected scenario. DIERRICK Oh no, everyone has been very kind. CARR No, I meant in your former situation. Merrick doesn't seem to understand. MERRICK I'm feeling much better now... Carr Gomm stares levelly at Treves for a moment, then asks Merrick: CARR Tell me, how do you like Mr. Treves? As a teacher? Treves stiffens. MERRICK ...I... everyone has been very kind to me. CARR Of course. How long did you and Mr. Treves prepare for this interview? Merrick looks at Treves for guidance, but Treves cannot look him in the eye. MERRICK ...everyone has been very kind. CARR Yes, of course... Well, it's been a pleasure meeting you, Mr. Merrick. Good day. TREVES (to John) Thank you, John. You did very well. Treves and Carr Gomm go out the door onto the landing. Merrick sees his chance escaping him and tries to recapture their attention. MERRICK (his voice is gaining strength) The Lord is my shepherd, I shall not want. He maketh me to lie down in green pastures... (he continues through the following dialogue) Treves and Carr Gomm are alone on the landing, speaking quietly. CARR It was a nice try, Treves, but the man is so obviously mouthing your words. TREVES Yes, I'm very sorry to have wasted your time, sir. I just felt that I had to do anything I could to protect him. CARR I'm sorry too. He simply doesn't belong here. He's be much happier somewhere else, where he could be constantly looked after. Believe me, Frederick, it's better that it worked out this way. Good day. Merrick has come to the end of what Treves taught him to say. He makes one last, desperate attempt to be heard. Treves, disheartened, stands on the landing as Carr Gomm starts down the stairs. MERRICK (V.O.) (now full voice) Yea, though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I will fear no evil, for Thou art with me; Thy rod and Thy staff, they comfort me... Treves is staring, open-mouthed, back into the room. Carr Gomm looks up at him. CARR What is it, Treves? MERRICK (V.O.) Thou preparest a table before me in the presence of mine enemies, Thou anointest my head with oil... TREVES I didn't teach him that part! Treves rushes back into the room, followed by Carr Gomm. MERRICK My cup runneth over. Surely goodness and loving kindness shall follow me all the days of my life, and I shall dwell in the house of the Lord forever. There is a long silence as all three men stare at each other. TREVES How did you, know the rest? I never taught you the rest of it. CARR I don't understand. TREVES Tell me, John, how did you know the rest of the 23rd Psalm? MERRICK (hesitantly) I... I used to read the Bible every day. I know it very well. The Bible, and the Book of Common Prayer. The 23rd Psalm is very beautiful. ISOLATION WARD A few minutes later. We hear voices inside the room. CARR (V.O.) It was a great pleasure to meet you, Mr. Merrick. MERRICK I am very pleased to meet you. CARR I hope we can talk together again sometime. Good day. The door opens and Carr Gomm and Treves come out. TREVES (to Merrick) I'll be right back. He closes the door. CARR I want to see you in my office as soon as you're through up here. We've a good deal to discuss. He starts down the stairs. TREVES Of course, sir. Thank you, thank you very much. Carr Gomm stops on the stairs. CARR Treves. Well done. TREVES Not me, sir. Mr. Merrick. He succeeded in spite of my shortsightedness. ISOLATION WARD Merrick is on the bed, propped up by pillows. The door opens. Treves comes in, shuts the door and leans against it. They look at each other for a moment. TREVES Why did you let me go on like that, teaching you what you already knew? Why didn't you tell me you could read? MERRICK You did not ask me. TREVES I never thought to ask. How can you ever forgive me? MERRICK Oh, no do not say that. You have been so kind to me. I was afraid to say too much. People always want me to be quiet. You wanted me to speak, but I was afraid. Forgive me. TREVES We do have a lot to talk about, don't we? CARR GOMM'S OFFICE Carr Gomm is seated at the window, looking out silently. There is a knock at the door and Treves enters. He quietly closes the door and walks to the window. Carr Gomm never moves. CARR Can you imagine what his life has been like? TREVES Yes, I think I can. CARR No you can't. You can't begin to know, no one can. Carr Gomm suddenly stands and faces Treves. CARR You are quite right, Treves, this is an exceptional case. And I quite agree that the committee should see Mr. Merrick. TREVES I could easily arrange... CARR No, not that way. Broadneck and the others don't like to deal with patients directly. It makes them queasy... Do you have any photographs of Mr. Merrick? TREVES Well, yes. CARR Excellent. We shall present them, along with the other particulars of the case to the committee. I want them to see, exactly, how horribly his body has been affected. You and I shall vouch for his inner qualities. TREVES Do you think they'll go along with us? CARR Of course they will. They're reasonable men. ISOLATION WARD Merrick is in bed, very tired. It's been an exhausting day. Suddenly the door opens and Mothershead comes into the room. Merrick looks up at her very apprehensively. She walks over to the bed, picks up the Bible from the table, opens it and hands it to Merrick. MOTHERSHEAD Read it. Merrick looks down at the Bible. MERRICK Thou heardest my voice; hide not thine ear at my breathing, At my cry. Mothershead backs slowly to the door, deeply disturbed. She stares at Merrick for a moment. MOTHERSHEAD Credit where credit is due. You'll have the paper every morning at breakfast. She quickly turns and exits. Merrick looks down at the Bible. It is open to "Lamentations". HALLWAY - THE LONDON (NIGHT) As before the lights are going off in one hallway after another. The hallways are empty, dark and silent. We hear the great iron door close with a bang. ISOLATION WARD (NIGHT) Merrick is in his bed as always. He holds the portrait of the beautiful woman, gazing at it longingly. He hears a door close far away in the silence of the hospital. Suddenly we hear the heavy footfalls of the Night Porter's boots. As they get louder and louder we move slowly closer to Merrick's face. The sound is very close now, and Merrick's eyes are visibly agitated. Finally, the door bursts open and the Night Porter is standing there. He stares malevolently at Merrick for a long moment and then walks to him menacingly. NIGHT PORTER I hear you have some trouble sleepin'... He grabs Merrick fiercely by the hair and jerks his head back. Merrick immediately starts to wheeze and gasp. NIGHT PORTER Head's too heavy, eh? He pulls Merrick all the way down onto the bed, so that he is prone, struggling for breath. NIGHT PORTER And I heard a nasty rumor about you; I heard you can talk but you can't, can you... can you... can you?... MERRICK (struggling) Noooo! The Night Porter is as first surprised, and then pleased at the desperate sound. NIGHT PORTER No... No you can't! One word about me out of that stinking cakehole... Just ONE word, and you'll have no trouble at sleepin'... no trouble at all. You understand me? Do you!! MERRICK (croaking) Yyyesss. Satisfied, the Night Porter rights Merrick who is just able to catch his breath. The Night Porter smiles and pats Merrick on the shoulder. NIGHT PORTER There now, that's better, i'n' it? HALLWAY Treves and Carr Gomm are on their way to the committee meeting, confident of their position. Treves is holding a folder, and Carr Gomm is looking at the photographs of Merrick. CARR As far as I can see, the only obstacle might be Broadneck. He has enormous influence over the others, very old school, not an easy man to impress. In any case, if worse does come to worse, we still have the British and Royal Homes to fall back on, don't we. Treves is silent. They stop. CARR Don't we? TREVES No, we don't. Their committees have informed me that they're unwilling to take Mr. Merrick, even if they were supplied with funds. They don't want

got

How many times the word 'got' appears in the text?

you? He puts the bowl down again and goes back to Merrick, who seems very upset at leaving his hiding place. TREVES Now please, John, you must do as I say. Come up from there. He starts to help Merrick up, but Merrick just presses himself farther back in the corner, still babbling. There are two raps at the door. Treves goes to it and lets Mothershead in. MOTHERSHEAD Good morning, Mr. Treves. It'll be his bath-time soon. Has he eaten? TREVES Not quite yet, Mrs. Mothershead. There seems to be some difficulty this morning. They both look at the bed. Merrick has almost disappeared under it. MOTHERSHEAD Won't come out, eh? TREVES No, he's very upset about something. MOTHERSHEAD Just being obstinate, sir. I'll handle it. She goes to Merrick and takes hold of his left wrist. MOTHERSHEAD Alright, my son, none of this fuss. Come up from there, this instant. She starts to force him up from the floor. Merrick is moaning now, still trying to get away. TREVES No! Don't pull at him like that. We don't want to frighten him more than he already is. By this time Mothershead has almost got him back on the bed. MOTHERSHEAD Honestly, sir, you must be very firm with this sort. Otherwise they'd lay about on the floor gibbering all day long. All he understands is a good smack. They help Merrick settle back on the pillow. Merrick is still making desperate, unintelligible sounds. TREVES He's had his share of "smacks", Mothershead. I expect that's what drives him under the bed. We must use patience and understanding with this man. MOTHERSHEAD Perhaps you've got the time for that, Mr. Treves, I certainly don't. I've got an entire hospital to look after, and you have your real patients. Don't waste your time with him sir, it's like talking to a wall. I don't mean to be harsh, but truthfully what can you do for him? I'll be back later for his bath. And Mr. Carr Gomm would like to see you when you have a moment. Good day sir. She exits. Treves shuts the door behind her and turns back to the bed. TREVES (to himself) What good am I to you...? He goes to the bed and sits down in front of Merrick, angered by his own seeming uselessness in the situation. TREVES ...What is my purpose? ...It's so important that I understand you. I want to help you, I want to be your doctor... (directly to Merrick) but I can't help you unless you help me, unless I know what you are feeling. I believe there's something back there, there's something you want to say, but I've got to understand you. Do you understand me? Merrick hesitates, then starts babbling again. TREVES No! You are going to talk to me! We are going to show them! We're going to show them that you're not a wall. We are going to talk! Do you understand? Nod your head if you understand me! Slowly Merrick nods yes. TREVES You do understand me! You understand. Now you're going to say it. I've got to hear how you say things. Now, very slowly, say "yes." Treves carefully mouths the word. TREVES "Yes." Merrick is still hesitant, from years of fear, but his eyes betray a growing excitement. Slowly, he tries to talk, his voice a tremulous whisper. MERRICK Yyyy... Yyye... yyyess. TREVES (grabbing Merrick's arm) Yes John! Throughout their dialogue, Merrick is still very garbled, but he no longer babbles. He makes a great effort to speak slowly, to form words the way Treves forms them, to be understood. MERRICK ...Yyes TREVES Yyyess. MERRICK Yyess. TREVES That's much better. I could understand that "yes". MERRICK (pleased) Yes! TREVES Very good! Oh yes! Now listen. I'm going to say some things to you and I want you to repeat them... um... I want you to say them back to me. Do you understand? I'm going to say some things to you and I want you to say them back to me. Do you understand? MERRICK Yes. TREVES Excellent! Now, say... "Hello" MERRICK Hello... TREVES My name is... MERRICK My... name is... TREVES John Merrick. MERRICK John... Merrick TREVES Say "Merrick". MERRICK Merrick... TREVES Say "Mmmerrick." MERRICK Mmmerrick. TREVES Say "Mmmerrick." MERRICK Mmmerrick. TREVES Well, that's alright. I understand you. Now, say the whole thing again, Hello ... MERRICK (haltingly) Hello... my name is... John Merrick. DISSOLVE TO HALLWAY Mrs. Mothershead comes out of the kitchen with a supper tray and walks down the hall, passing the open ward door. We see nurses serving patients their supper. Nora comes out of the ward with a tray which she holds tightly against her. A bowl of soup is spilling on her apron. She catches up with Mothershead. They speak as they walk. NORA Oh, Mrs. Mothershead, please forgive my behavior yesterday. I'm sorry if you're having to do extra work on my account. It was just seeing it... MOTHERSHEAD Patients here are not "its". They are either "he's" or "she's", but that's alright, Ireland. This one's going to be more work for all of us. Good God girl! Mind your broth. Mothershead continues on. Nora guiltily watches her go. ISOLATION WARD Treves and Merrick are absorbed in their work. A knock comes at the door. TREVES Come in. Mothershead enters. TREVES Why, my dear Mrs. Mothershead, how good of you to join us. Mr. Merrick, will you please introduce yourself? MERRICK (hesitantly) Hello, my name is John Merrick. MOTHERSHEAD Good Lord, Mr. Treves! TREVES (exuberantly) We've made tremendous strides today, Mothershead. He listens and repeats with great attention, and this certainly isn't easy for him. MOTHERSHEAD Parrots can do as much, Mr. Treves. It's all very nice, but I don't see the point. You know they won't let him stay here. TREVES (lowering his voice) I'm sure that if Mr. Merrick made a good impression on the hospital committee they'd see that he's the exception to their rule. Now I'm not expecting miracles. I'm not saying he'll be able to read or write, but I do think that I can get him to speak for himself. I'm going to arrange things with Carr Gomm right now. (to Merrick) That was very good, John, very good. That's all for today. We shall do some more tomorrow. Mothershead? Mrs. Mothershead sets the tray down beside Merrick. TREVES I'll see you soon. He and Mothershead exit. Merrick watches the door close. He sighs quietly, looks about, and sees the Bible on the bedside table. He picks it up and, gently runs his fingers over the cover. RECEIVING ROOM - THE LONDON There is total pandemonium in the receiving room. The room is filled with screaming men, women and children. Two drunken women have been fighting with broken bottles and are now covered with blood and cuts. The women are still hysterical, one minute they're sobbing, then in an instant screaming and intent upon fighting again. The crowd keeps them apart. Two Bobbies stand in the background making no move to intercede. To the side we see Bytes watching everything. It is still too violent a scene for the Nurses to come to the women's aide and they stand up in the front of the room waiting. Bytes makes his way along the side of the crowd waiting for a chance to get behind the Nurses and on into the hospital. Now the women begin sobbing again and things quiet some. The Nurses come forward into the crowd. Bytes moves over closer to the hallways. When the Nurses have all gone into the crowd he seizes the chance and disappears into the hospital. CUT TO: Bytes appears and walks down hospital hallway looking about. CARR GOMM'S OFFICE The door opens and Treves enters. CARR (V.O.) Ah, Treves... Treves sits in the armchair. Carr Gomm is sitting at his desk. CARR Have you contacted the British Home and the Royal Hospital? TREVES Ah, no sir. I had planned to see them in the morning. CARR Good! How is the patient? TREVES He's doing very well. In fact that's why I came to see you. I think that if I were to present Mr. Merrick to the hospital committee, then they would have a chance to see for themselves not only the extraordinary nature of the disease, but of the man as well. If the committee had a chance to speak with him, hear him say a few words for himself, I'm sure they would see him as a patient, rather than as a violation of the rules. CARR A few words? I thought he was imbecile? TREVES Well sir, perhaps I should explain... CARR I really don't think that's necessary Treves. I'm quite sure the committee will be able to make an equitable decision on the merits of the case, such as they are. TREVES I don't agree. No one can make a reasonable decision about this man's future without at least meeting him. No doctor would presume to diagnose a patient he had never met. CARR No, Treves, it's out of the question. Now if it was up to me, I'd say "Certainly, let's meet the fellow, by all means," I'm sorry, I simply can't speak for the other members of the committee. TREVES Then will you meet him, as a representative of the committee. CARR Mr. Treves, it's out of the question. I want to hear as soon as possible what the other hospitals can do. I'm sorry. HALLWAY - STAIRCASE - THE LONDON We see Treves leave Carr Gomm's office and walk toward us to the stairwell. As Treves begins down the stairs, he sees Bytes on the next landing coming up. Bytes spots him and goes toward him. BYTES I want my man back. TREVES Just a moment, how did you get in here? BYTES Never mind that, I want my man! TREVES He's still very sick. Please come downstairs with me. I'll explain the situation. BYTES (shouting) DON'T... Don't muck me about. You've had plenty of time to fix him up, and he's leaving with me, NOW. Do you understand me? Now, Mr. Treves. We had a bargain! TREVES You misunderstood. This man suffered a severe fall, if you take my meaning. He's my patient now and I must do what... BYTES Pull the other one, why don't you! We made a deal! TREVES I know what you've done to him and he's never going back to that. BYTES He's a freak! That's how they live. We're partners, him and I, business partners. You're willfully deprivin' me of my livlihood! TREVES All you do is profit from another man's misery! BYTES You think you're better 'n me? YOU wanted the freak to show all your doctor chums and make a name for yourself, you guv. So I gave him to you. On trust, in the name of science! And now I want him back. TREVES You don't own this man! BYTES I want him back! TREVES So you can beat him? So you can starve him? A dog in the street would fare better with you! BYTES I've got my rights, damn you, and I'm going to the authorities! CARR (V.O.) Well, go to the authorities... Now we see Carr Gomm standing above them, at the top of the stairs. CARR By all means do so. In fact, I'll fetch them myself. I'm quite sure they'd be very interested in your story, as well as ours. Livid, Bytes looks from Carr Gomm to Treves, at a loss for words. TREVES Now I think we really do understand one another. BYTES (venomously) Right... Right. He backs slowly down to the landing eyeing Treves and Carr Gomm. At the landing he casually turns and disappears down more stairs. Treves turns and gazes at Carr Gomm. CARR Singularly unpleasant chap... uh... I don't suppose there would be any harm in my meeting your... patient, Mr. Treves. TREVES (gratefully) Thank you very much Sir. Shall we say in a few days then? CARR Shall we say two o'clock tomorrow afternoon? TREVES (slightly taken aback) Wh... whatever is most convenient for you, sir. CARR Two o'clock then... you know Treves... It seems this acquaintance of yours has become rather more than just an acquaintance. TREVES ...Yes, Sir. They part company. We follow Treves down the stairs. TREVES (muttering) Two o'clock? Then we follow Carr Gomm to his office door. He stops short. CARR (mumbling out loud) Elephant Man? I don't want to meet an Elephant Man. HALLWAYS - THE LONDON (NIGHT) Again, the hospital is closing down for the night. Lights go off in each hallway. The staff is vacating the hospital. As the last light goes off, we hear the great iron door slam shut. TREVES' HOUSE - BEDROOM (NIGHT) Anne is at her dressing table, brushing out her hair. She is in a very flattering dressing gown, ready to turn in. We see her reflected in the mirror as well as Treves who is in his robe in the background seated at his side of their bed, deep in thought. Anne looks at Treves and smiles affectionately. ANNE (coyly) Freddie? Getting no response she renews her efforts. ANNE Freddie?... Freddie, don't look so discouraged. TREVES I shouldn't be. We made great progress today. I taught him to repeat a few basic phrases. He did rather well, too, but I had to lead him every step of the way. Though frankly, at times I was unsure of who was leading whom. ANNE What do you mean? TREVES Well, I wasn't sure whether he was parroting me because that's all he was capable of, or whether he sensed that that's all I wanted to hear, and he was trying to please me. ANNE But I thought you said that he was rather... simple? TREVES He is. I mean, I've always thought he was. I think he must be. Is he simple? Or is that just something I've wished upon him to make things simpler for myself? Anne puts down the brush and rises. ANNE Frederick, why are you so interested in this particular case? TREVES I don't know. I can't explain it. If this is an intelligent man, trapped in the body of a monster, then I'm under a moral obligation to help free that mind, free that spirit as best I can, to help him live as full and content a life as possible. But! If he's an imbecile, who's body I can't treat and who's mind I can't touch, well, then my obligation is discharged. They can put him where they will; he won't be bothered, I won't be bothered, and everyone's conscience can remain free and untroubled. And that is my dilemma... what is in his mind? Anne, sympathizing with his concerns goes to him and puts her arms around him. ANNE Perhaps you're just polishing a stone, endowing this Elephant Man with qualities he doesn't possess? TREVES (impatiently) And what qualities are those? Intelligence or stupidity? ANNE (slightly hurt) I'm sure I don't know, Freddie. She releases Treves and lies down. Treves realizes that perhaps he has been unkind. TREVES I'm sorry... I don't know either. I just don't know. ANNE Well, these things take time. TREVES I've only got until two o'clock tomorrow afternoon, when Carr Gomm meets him. Somehow, between now and then I've got to make John Merrick at least seem like an intelligent man... Why am I fooling myself? Nothing short of John delivering the Sermon on the Mount is going to sway Carr Gomm... Anne sits back up and gently places her hand over Treves' mouth. As she does so she leans forward and turns out the light. ISOLATION WARD Merrick is propped up in bed. Suddenly the door bursts open. The Night Porter, an arm around a drunken giggling tart, stands in the doorway. As soon as the Charwoman sees Merrick, she screams as does Merrick, and she wriggles free, making for the stairs. The Night Porter watches her go and then turns to Merrick laughing noisily. He then pulls the door shut with a bang. Merrick, very frightened, crawls down into his hiding place. BEDROOM (MORNING) We see Anne alone in bed, asleep. Treves is finished dressing and leaves the room. The sound of the door closing awakens Anne. She looks around for Treves. A clock reads 5:30. ISOLATION WARD Merrick's disguise hangs on the wall. MERRICK (V.O.) The Lord is my shepherd, I shall not want, he maketh me to lie down in green pastures; He leadeth me beside still waters. He restoreth my soul: He Guideth me in the paths of righteousness... TREVES Righteousness... MERRICK (V.O.) Righteousness for his namesake. WE NOW SEE TREVES AND MERRICK TREVES Very good, very good. Now, when your visitor comes today I want you to say it exactly the way you said it just now. I will introduce him to you and you will say the words you've learned. If you have any trouble with any of the words, I'll help you. I'm sure you'll be just fine. If you do as well for him as you've done for me these last two days, then I'm sure our visitor will be very pleased. Now, let's go through the whole thing again, shall we? I will say "May I introduce you to Mr. Carr Gomm." And you will say... MERRICK Hello, my name is John Merrick. I am very pleased to meet you! HALLWAY Treves and Carr Gomm are speaking together as they walk along. TREVES It's only a physical problem. He has trouble with certain sounds because of the constrictive deformity of the mouth. But he can talk, and has a great eagerness to make contact with people who will let him. So if you have any difficulty understanding what he is saying, just tell me and I'll make it clear. CARR Speaking is one thing, Treves, but can the man comprehend? Treves cannot easily answer this question. TREVES ...As I said, it's only a physical problem... but I do feel that Mr. Merrick is very flattered that you're taking the time and trouble to meet him, and he's most anxious to make a good impression, so he might seem rather nervous. CARR He needn't. I have no desire to cause him any discomfort. Did you make those inquiries we spoke about? TREVES Yes, I spoke to both the British Home and Royal Hospital for Incurables. I'm afraid that they weren't very encouraging, but they said they'd bring it up at their next committee meeting, so we should have their answers shortly. CARR Fine, fine. You know, your dedication to this patient is an inspiring thing, Treves. But you must remember that this is a hospital, and there are many patients here. Patients who can be made well, and you owe them your first consideration. Just don't become so obsessed, old man, that you begin to neglect them. Carr Gomm starts up the stairs. Treves remains behind, watching him for a moment, then follows. ISOLATION WARD Merrick is standing beside his disguise on its hook. He nervously smooths the cloak down, repositions the Bible on the bedside table and smooths the cloak again. He looks at the door, expecting it to open. It doesn't. His hands smooths the cloak over and over again. Voices can be heard outside the door. Merrick freezes. There are two raps at the door. Merrick flinches, clutching the cloak. The raps are repeated. He pulls himself together and walks to the middle of the room. He takes a deep breath and closes his eyes. MERRICK Come in. The door opens and Treves and Carr Gomm enter. Carr Gomm's eyes are rivited on Merrick, but he contains his shock. Merrick is breathing unevenly, his eyes still closed. Treves goes to him and touches his shoulder. Merrick opens his eyes and looks up at Treves. Treves turns to Carr Gomm, as does Merrick. Carr Gomm lowers his eyes. TREVES John, may I introduce you to Sir Carr Gomm. MERRICK Hello... my name is John Merrick. I am very pleased to meet you. Carr Gomm, still shaken, instinctively offers his hand. CARR I'm very... pleased to meet you. Before Carr Gomm can withdraw his hand, Merrick grasps it with his left hand. There is an uncomfortable silence. Merrick releases it. Carr Gomn, nervously clears his throat. CARR How are you feeling today? MERRICK I feel much better. Thank you for asking. And you? CARR I'm feeling very fit, thank you. How is your bronchitis? MERRICK I feel much better. Thank you. CARR Are you comfortable here? MERRICK Everyone has been very kind. I am extremely grateful. TREVES Mr. Merrick likes the food here. Don't you John? MERRICK Oh yes! It is much better than what I am used to. CARR Oh yes? TREVES (after a pause) And what was that, John? MERRICK Potatoes... There is another agonizing silence. TREVES (to Carr Gomm) ...Yes potatoes... but... MERRICK But the variety of food here is very pleasing... I commend you. CARR (after a pause) I understand that you were beaten? Merrick is at a loss. This is not part of the expected scenario. DIERRICK Oh no, everyone has been very kind. CARR No, I meant in your former situation. Merrick doesn't seem to understand. MERRICK I'm feeling much better now... Carr Gomm stares levelly at Treves for a moment, then asks Merrick: CARR Tell me, how do you like Mr. Treves? As a teacher? Treves stiffens. MERRICK ...I... everyone has been very kind to me. CARR Of course. How long did you and Mr. Treves prepare for this interview? Merrick looks at Treves for guidance, but Treves cannot look him in the eye. MERRICK ...everyone has been very kind. CARR Yes, of course... Well, it's been a pleasure meeting you, Mr. Merrick. Good day. TREVES (to John) Thank you, John. You did very well. Treves and Carr Gomm go out the door onto the landing. Merrick sees his chance escaping him and tries to recapture their attention. MERRICK (his voice is gaining strength) The Lord is my shepherd, I shall not want. He maketh me to lie down in green pastures... (he continues through the following dialogue) Treves and Carr Gomm are alone on the landing, speaking quietly. CARR It was a nice try, Treves, but the man is so obviously mouthing your words. TREVES Yes, I'm very sorry to have wasted your time, sir. I just felt that I had to do anything I could to protect him. CARR I'm sorry too. He simply doesn't belong here. He's be much happier somewhere else, where he could be constantly looked after. Believe me, Frederick, it's better that it worked out this way. Good day. Merrick has come to the end of what Treves taught him to say. He makes one last, desperate attempt to be heard. Treves, disheartened, stands on the landing as Carr Gomm starts down the stairs. MERRICK (V.O.) (now full voice) Yea, though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I will fear no evil, for Thou art with me; Thy rod and Thy staff, they comfort me... Treves is staring, open-mouthed, back into the room. Carr Gomm looks up at him. CARR What is it, Treves? MERRICK (V.O.) Thou preparest a table before me in the presence of mine enemies, Thou anointest my head with oil... TREVES I didn't teach him that part! Treves rushes back into the room, followed by Carr Gomm. MERRICK My cup runneth over. Surely goodness and loving kindness shall follow me all the days of my life, and I shall dwell in the house of the Lord forever. There is a long silence as all three men stare at each other. TREVES How did you, know the rest? I never taught you the rest of it. CARR I don't understand. TREVES Tell me, John, how did you know the rest of the 23rd Psalm? MERRICK (hesitantly) I... I used to read the Bible every day. I know it very well. The Bible, and the Book of Common Prayer. The 23rd Psalm is very beautiful. ISOLATION WARD A few minutes later. We hear voices inside the room. CARR (V.O.) It was a great pleasure to meet you, Mr. Merrick. MERRICK I am very pleased to meet you. CARR I hope we can talk together again sometime. Good day. The door opens and Carr Gomm and Treves come out. TREVES (to Merrick) I'll be right back. He closes the door. CARR I want to see you in my office as soon as you're through up here. We've a good deal to discuss. He starts down the stairs. TREVES Of course, sir. Thank you, thank you very much. Carr Gomm stops on the stairs. CARR Treves. Well done. TREVES Not me, sir. Mr. Merrick. He succeeded in spite of my shortsightedness. ISOLATION WARD Merrick is on the bed, propped up by pillows. The door opens. Treves comes in, shuts the door and leans against it. They look at each other for a moment. TREVES Why did you let me go on like that, teaching you what you already knew? Why didn't you tell me you could read? MERRICK You did not ask me. TREVES I never thought to ask. How can you ever forgive me? MERRICK Oh, no do not say that. You have been so kind to me. I was afraid to say too much. People always want me to be quiet. You wanted me to speak, but I was afraid. Forgive me. TREVES We do have a lot to talk about, don't we? CARR GOMM'S OFFICE Carr Gomm is seated at the window, looking out silently. There is a knock at the door and Treves enters. He quietly closes the door and walks to the window. Carr Gomm never moves. CARR Can you imagine what his life has been like? TREVES Yes, I think I can. CARR No you can't. You can't begin to know, no one can. Carr Gomm suddenly stands and faces Treves. CARR You are quite right, Treves, this is an exceptional case. And I quite agree that the committee should see Mr. Merrick. TREVES I could easily arrange... CARR No, not that way. Broadneck and the others don't like to deal with patients directly. It makes them queasy... Do you have any photographs of Mr. Merrick? TREVES Well, yes. CARR Excellent. We shall present them, along with the other particulars of the case to the committee. I want them to see, exactly, how horribly his body has been affected. You and I shall vouch for his inner qualities. TREVES Do you think they'll go along with us? CARR Of course they will. They're reasonable men. ISOLATION WARD Merrick is in bed, very tired. It's been an exhausting day. Suddenly the door opens and Mothershead comes into the room. Merrick looks up at her very apprehensively. She walks over to the bed, picks up the Bible from the table, opens it and hands it to Merrick. MOTHERSHEAD Read it. Merrick looks down at the Bible. MERRICK Thou heardest my voice; hide not thine ear at my breathing, At my cry. Mothershead backs slowly to the door, deeply disturbed. She stares at Merrick for a moment. MOTHERSHEAD Credit where credit is due. You'll have the paper every morning at breakfast. She quickly turns and exits. Merrick looks down at the Bible. It is open to "Lamentations". HALLWAY - THE LONDON (NIGHT) As before the lights are going off in one hallway after another. The hallways are empty, dark and silent. We hear the great iron door close with a bang. ISOLATION WARD (NIGHT) Merrick is in his bed as always. He holds the portrait of the beautiful woman, gazing at it longingly. He hears a door close far away in the silence of the hospital. Suddenly we hear the heavy footfalls of the Night Porter's boots. As they get louder and louder we move slowly closer to Merrick's face. The sound is very close now, and Merrick's eyes are visibly agitated. Finally, the door bursts open and the Night Porter is standing there. He stares malevolently at Merrick for a long moment and then walks to him menacingly. NIGHT PORTER I hear you have some trouble sleepin'... He grabs Merrick fiercely by the hair and jerks his head back. Merrick immediately starts to wheeze and gasp. NIGHT PORTER Head's too heavy, eh? He pulls Merrick all the way down onto the bed, so that he is prone, struggling for breath. NIGHT PORTER And I heard a nasty rumor about you; I heard you can talk but you can't, can you... can you... can you?... MERRICK (struggling) Noooo! The Night Porter is as first surprised, and then pleased at the desperate sound. NIGHT PORTER No... No you can't! One word about me out of that stinking cakehole... Just ONE word, and you'll have no trouble at sleepin'... no trouble at all. You understand me? Do you!! MERRICK (croaking) Yyyesss. Satisfied, the Night Porter rights Merrick who is just able to catch his breath. The Night Porter smiles and pats Merrick on the shoulder. NIGHT PORTER There now, that's better, i'n' it? HALLWAY Treves and Carr Gomm are on their way to the committee meeting, confident of their position. Treves is holding a folder, and Carr Gomm is looking at the photographs of Merrick. CARR As far as I can see, the only obstacle might be Broadneck. He has enormous influence over the others, very old school, not an easy man to impress. In any case, if worse does come to worse, we still have the British and Royal Homes to fall back on, don't we. Treves is silent. They stop. CARR Don't we? TREVES No, we don't. Their committees have informed me that they're unwilling to take Mr. Merrick, even if they were supplied with funds. They don't want

price

How many times the word 'price' appears in the text?

you? He puts the bowl down again and goes back to Merrick, who seems very upset at leaving his hiding place. TREVES Now please, John, you must do as I say. Come up from there. He starts to help Merrick up, but Merrick just presses himself farther back in the corner, still babbling. There are two raps at the door. Treves goes to it and lets Mothershead in. MOTHERSHEAD Good morning, Mr. Treves. It'll be his bath-time soon. Has he eaten? TREVES Not quite yet, Mrs. Mothershead. There seems to be some difficulty this morning. They both look at the bed. Merrick has almost disappeared under it. MOTHERSHEAD Won't come out, eh? TREVES No, he's very upset about something. MOTHERSHEAD Just being obstinate, sir. I'll handle it. She goes to Merrick and takes hold of his left wrist. MOTHERSHEAD Alright, my son, none of this fuss. Come up from there, this instant. She starts to force him up from the floor. Merrick is moaning now, still trying to get away. TREVES No! Don't pull at him like that. We don't want to frighten him more than he already is. By this time Mothershead has almost got him back on the bed. MOTHERSHEAD Honestly, sir, you must be very firm with this sort. Otherwise they'd lay about on the floor gibbering all day long. All he understands is a good smack. They help Merrick settle back on the pillow. Merrick is still making desperate, unintelligible sounds. TREVES He's had his share of "smacks", Mothershead. I expect that's what drives him under the bed. We must use patience and understanding with this man. MOTHERSHEAD Perhaps you've got the time for that, Mr. Treves, I certainly don't. I've got an entire hospital to look after, and you have your real patients. Don't waste your time with him sir, it's like talking to a wall. I don't mean to be harsh, but truthfully what can you do for him? I'll be back later for his bath. And Mr. Carr Gomm would like to see you when you have a moment. Good day sir. She exits. Treves shuts the door behind her and turns back to the bed. TREVES (to himself) What good am I to you...? He goes to the bed and sits down in front of Merrick, angered by his own seeming uselessness in the situation. TREVES ...What is my purpose? ...It's so important that I understand you. I want to help you, I want to be your doctor... (directly to Merrick) but I can't help you unless you help me, unless I know what you are feeling. I believe there's something back there, there's something you want to say, but I've got to understand you. Do you understand me? Merrick hesitates, then starts babbling again. TREVES No! You are going to talk to me! We are going to show them! We're going to show them that you're not a wall. We are going to talk! Do you understand? Nod your head if you understand me! Slowly Merrick nods yes. TREVES You do understand me! You understand. Now you're going to say it. I've got to hear how you say things. Now, very slowly, say "yes." Treves carefully mouths the word. TREVES "Yes." Merrick is still hesitant, from years of fear, but his eyes betray a growing excitement. Slowly, he tries to talk, his voice a tremulous whisper. MERRICK Yyyy... Yyye... yyyess. TREVES (grabbing Merrick's arm) Yes John! Throughout their dialogue, Merrick is still very garbled, but he no longer babbles. He makes a great effort to speak slowly, to form words the way Treves forms them, to be understood. MERRICK ...Yyes TREVES Yyyess. MERRICK Yyess. TREVES That's much better. I could understand that "yes". MERRICK (pleased) Yes! TREVES Very good! Oh yes! Now listen. I'm going to say some things to you and I want you to repeat them... um... I want you to say them back to me. Do you understand? I'm going to say some things to you and I want you to say them back to me. Do you understand? MERRICK Yes. TREVES Excellent! Now, say... "Hello" MERRICK Hello... TREVES My name is... MERRICK My... name is... TREVES John Merrick. MERRICK John... Merrick TREVES Say "Merrick". MERRICK Merrick... TREVES Say "Mmmerrick." MERRICK Mmmerrick. TREVES Say "Mmmerrick." MERRICK Mmmerrick. TREVES Well, that's alright. I understand you. Now, say the whole thing again, Hello ... MERRICK (haltingly) Hello... my name is... John Merrick. DISSOLVE TO HALLWAY Mrs. Mothershead comes out of the kitchen with a supper tray and walks down the hall, passing the open ward door. We see nurses serving patients their supper. Nora comes out of the ward with a tray which she holds tightly against her. A bowl of soup is spilling on her apron. She catches up with Mothershead. They speak as they walk. NORA Oh, Mrs. Mothershead, please forgive my behavior yesterday. I'm sorry if you're having to do extra work on my account. It was just seeing it... MOTHERSHEAD Patients here are not "its". They are either "he's" or "she's", but that's alright, Ireland. This one's going to be more work for all of us. Good God girl! Mind your broth. Mothershead continues on. Nora guiltily watches her go. ISOLATION WARD Treves and Merrick are absorbed in their work. A knock comes at the door. TREVES Come in. Mothershead enters. TREVES Why, my dear Mrs. Mothershead, how good of you to join us. Mr. Merrick, will you please introduce yourself? MERRICK (hesitantly) Hello, my name is John Merrick. MOTHERSHEAD Good Lord, Mr. Treves! TREVES (exuberantly) We've made tremendous strides today, Mothershead. He listens and repeats with great attention, and this certainly isn't easy for him. MOTHERSHEAD Parrots can do as much, Mr. Treves. It's all very nice, but I don't see the point. You know they won't let him stay here. TREVES (lowering his voice) I'm sure that if Mr. Merrick made a good impression on the hospital committee they'd see that he's the exception to their rule. Now I'm not expecting miracles. I'm not saying he'll be able to read or write, but I do think that I can get him to speak for himself. I'm going to arrange things with Carr Gomm right now. (to Merrick) That was very good, John, very good. That's all for today. We shall do some more tomorrow. Mothershead? Mrs. Mothershead sets the tray down beside Merrick. TREVES I'll see you soon. He and Mothershead exit. Merrick watches the door close. He sighs quietly, looks about, and sees the Bible on the bedside table. He picks it up and, gently runs his fingers over the cover. RECEIVING ROOM - THE LONDON There is total pandemonium in the receiving room. The room is filled with screaming men, women and children. Two drunken women have been fighting with broken bottles and are now covered with blood and cuts. The women are still hysterical, one minute they're sobbing, then in an instant screaming and intent upon fighting again. The crowd keeps them apart. Two Bobbies stand in the background making no move to intercede. To the side we see Bytes watching everything. It is still too violent a scene for the Nurses to come to the women's aide and they stand up in the front of the room waiting. Bytes makes his way along the side of the crowd waiting for a chance to get behind the Nurses and on into the hospital. Now the women begin sobbing again and things quiet some. The Nurses come forward into the crowd. Bytes moves over closer to the hallways. When the Nurses have all gone into the crowd he seizes the chance and disappears into the hospital. CUT TO: Bytes appears and walks down hospital hallway looking about. CARR GOMM'S OFFICE The door opens and Treves enters. CARR (V.O.) Ah, Treves... Treves sits in the armchair. Carr Gomm is sitting at his desk. CARR Have you contacted the British Home and the Royal Hospital? TREVES Ah, no sir. I had planned to see them in the morning. CARR Good! How is the patient? TREVES He's doing very well. In fact that's why I came to see you. I think that if I were to present Mr. Merrick to the hospital committee, then they would have a chance to see for themselves not only the extraordinary nature of the disease, but of the man as well. If the committee had a chance to speak with him, hear him say a few words for himself, I'm sure they would see him as a patient, rather than as a violation of the rules. CARR A few words? I thought he was imbecile? TREVES Well sir, perhaps I should explain... CARR I really don't think that's necessary Treves. I'm quite sure the committee will be able to make an equitable decision on the merits of the case, such as they are. TREVES I don't agree. No one can make a reasonable decision about this man's future without at least meeting him. No doctor would presume to diagnose a patient he had never met. CARR No, Treves, it's out of the question. Now if it was up to me, I'd say "Certainly, let's meet the fellow, by all means," I'm sorry, I simply can't speak for the other members of the committee. TREVES Then will you meet him, as a representative of the committee. CARR Mr. Treves, it's out of the question. I want to hear as soon as possible what the other hospitals can do. I'm sorry. HALLWAY - STAIRCASE - THE LONDON We see Treves leave Carr Gomm's office and walk toward us to the stairwell. As Treves begins down the stairs, he sees Bytes on the next landing coming up. Bytes spots him and goes toward him. BYTES I want my man back. TREVES Just a moment, how did you get in here? BYTES Never mind that, I want my man! TREVES He's still very sick. Please come downstairs with me. I'll explain the situation. BYTES (shouting) DON'T... Don't muck me about. You've had plenty of time to fix him up, and he's leaving with me, NOW. Do you understand me? Now, Mr. Treves. We had a bargain! TREVES You misunderstood. This man suffered a severe fall, if you take my meaning. He's my patient now and I must do what... BYTES Pull the other one, why don't you! We made a deal! TREVES I know what you've done to him and he's never going back to that. BYTES He's a freak! That's how they live. We're partners, him and I, business partners. You're willfully deprivin' me of my livlihood! TREVES All you do is profit from another man's misery! BYTES You think you're better 'n me? YOU wanted the freak to show all your doctor chums and make a name for yourself, you guv. So I gave him to you. On trust, in the name of science! And now I want him back. TREVES You don't own this man! BYTES I want him back! TREVES So you can beat him? So you can starve him? A dog in the street would fare better with you! BYTES I've got my rights, damn you, and I'm going to the authorities! CARR (V.O.) Well, go to the authorities... Now we see Carr Gomm standing above them, at the top of the stairs. CARR By all means do so. In fact, I'll fetch them myself. I'm quite sure they'd be very interested in your story, as well as ours. Livid, Bytes looks from Carr Gomm to Treves, at a loss for words. TREVES Now I think we really do understand one another. BYTES (venomously) Right... Right. He backs slowly down to the landing eyeing Treves and Carr Gomm. At the landing he casually turns and disappears down more stairs. Treves turns and gazes at Carr Gomm. CARR Singularly unpleasant chap... uh... I don't suppose there would be any harm in my meeting your... patient, Mr. Treves. TREVES (gratefully) Thank you very much Sir. Shall we say in a few days then? CARR Shall we say two o'clock tomorrow afternoon? TREVES (slightly taken aback) Wh... whatever is most convenient for you, sir. CARR Two o'clock then... you know Treves... It seems this acquaintance of yours has become rather more than just an acquaintance. TREVES ...Yes, Sir. They part company. We follow Treves down the stairs. TREVES (muttering) Two o'clock? Then we follow Carr Gomm to his office door. He stops short. CARR (mumbling out loud) Elephant Man? I don't want to meet an Elephant Man. HALLWAYS - THE LONDON (NIGHT) Again, the hospital is closing down for the night. Lights go off in each hallway. The staff is vacating the hospital. As the last light goes off, we hear the great iron door slam shut. TREVES' HOUSE - BEDROOM (NIGHT) Anne is at her dressing table, brushing out her hair. She is in a very flattering dressing gown, ready to turn in. We see her reflected in the mirror as well as Treves who is in his robe in the background seated at his side of their bed, deep in thought. Anne looks at Treves and smiles affectionately. ANNE (coyly) Freddie? Getting no response she renews her efforts. ANNE Freddie?... Freddie, don't look so discouraged. TREVES I shouldn't be. We made great progress today. I taught him to repeat a few basic phrases. He did rather well, too, but I had to lead him every step of the way. Though frankly, at times I was unsure of who was leading whom. ANNE What do you mean? TREVES Well, I wasn't sure whether he was parroting me because that's all he was capable of, or whether he sensed that that's all I wanted to hear, and he was trying to please me. ANNE But I thought you said that he was rather... simple? TREVES He is. I mean, I've always thought he was. I think he must be. Is he simple? Or is that just something I've wished upon him to make things simpler for myself? Anne puts down the brush and rises. ANNE Frederick, why are you so interested in this particular case? TREVES I don't know. I can't explain it. If this is an intelligent man, trapped in the body of a monster, then I'm under a moral obligation to help free that mind, free that spirit as best I can, to help him live as full and content a life as possible. But! If he's an imbecile, who's body I can't treat and who's mind I can't touch, well, then my obligation is discharged. They can put him where they will; he won't be bothered, I won't be bothered, and everyone's conscience can remain free and untroubled. And that is my dilemma... what is in his mind? Anne, sympathizing with his concerns goes to him and puts her arms around him. ANNE Perhaps you're just polishing a stone, endowing this Elephant Man with qualities he doesn't possess? TREVES (impatiently) And what qualities are those? Intelligence or stupidity? ANNE (slightly hurt) I'm sure I don't know, Freddie. She releases Treves and lies down. Treves realizes that perhaps he has been unkind. TREVES I'm sorry... I don't know either. I just don't know. ANNE Well, these things take time. TREVES I've only got until two o'clock tomorrow afternoon, when Carr Gomm meets him. Somehow, between now and then I've got to make John Merrick at least seem like an intelligent man... Why am I fooling myself? Nothing short of John delivering the Sermon on the Mount is going to sway Carr Gomm... Anne sits back up and gently places her hand over Treves' mouth. As she does so she leans forward and turns out the light. ISOLATION WARD Merrick is propped up in bed. Suddenly the door bursts open. The Night Porter, an arm around a drunken giggling tart, stands in the doorway. As soon as the Charwoman sees Merrick, she screams as does Merrick, and she wriggles free, making for the stairs. The Night Porter watches her go and then turns to Merrick laughing noisily. He then pulls the door shut with a bang. Merrick, very frightened, crawls down into his hiding place. BEDROOM (MORNING) We see Anne alone in bed, asleep. Treves is finished dressing and leaves the room. The sound of the door closing awakens Anne. She looks around for Treves. A clock reads 5:30. ISOLATION WARD Merrick's disguise hangs on the wall. MERRICK (V.O.) The Lord is my shepherd, I shall not want, he maketh me to lie down in green pastures; He leadeth me beside still waters. He restoreth my soul: He Guideth me in the paths of righteousness... TREVES Righteousness... MERRICK (V.O.) Righteousness for his namesake. WE NOW SEE TREVES AND MERRICK TREVES Very good, very good. Now, when your visitor comes today I want you to say it exactly the way you said it just now. I will introduce him to you and you will say the words you've learned. If you have any trouble with any of the words, I'll help you. I'm sure you'll be just fine. If you do as well for him as you've done for me these last two days, then I'm sure our visitor will be very pleased. Now, let's go through the whole thing again, shall we? I will say "May I introduce you to Mr. Carr Gomm." And you will say... MERRICK Hello, my name is John Merrick. I am very pleased to meet you! HALLWAY Treves and Carr Gomm are speaking together as they walk along. TREVES It's only a physical problem. He has trouble with certain sounds because of the constrictive deformity of the mouth. But he can talk, and has a great eagerness to make contact with people who will let him. So if you have any difficulty understanding what he is saying, just tell me and I'll make it clear. CARR Speaking is one thing, Treves, but can the man comprehend? Treves cannot easily answer this question. TREVES ...As I said, it's only a physical problem... but I do feel that Mr. Merrick is very flattered that you're taking the time and trouble to meet him, and he's most anxious to make a good impression, so he might seem rather nervous. CARR He needn't. I have no desire to cause him any discomfort. Did you make those inquiries we spoke about? TREVES Yes, I spoke to both the British Home and Royal Hospital for Incurables. I'm afraid that they weren't very encouraging, but they said they'd bring it up at their next committee meeting, so we should have their answers shortly. CARR Fine, fine. You know, your dedication to this patient is an inspiring thing, Treves. But you must remember that this is a hospital, and there are many patients here. Patients who can be made well, and you owe them your first consideration. Just don't become so obsessed, old man, that you begin to neglect them. Carr Gomm starts up the stairs. Treves remains behind, watching him for a moment, then follows. ISOLATION WARD Merrick is standing beside his disguise on its hook. He nervously smooths the cloak down, repositions the Bible on the bedside table and smooths the cloak again. He looks at the door, expecting it to open. It doesn't. His hands smooths the cloak over and over again. Voices can be heard outside the door. Merrick freezes. There are two raps at the door. Merrick flinches, clutching the cloak. The raps are repeated. He pulls himself together and walks to the middle of the room. He takes a deep breath and closes his eyes. MERRICK Come in. The door opens and Treves and Carr Gomm enter. Carr Gomm's eyes are rivited on Merrick, but he contains his shock. Merrick is breathing unevenly, his eyes still closed. Treves goes to him and touches his shoulder. Merrick opens his eyes and looks up at Treves. Treves turns to Carr Gomm, as does Merrick. Carr Gomm lowers his eyes. TREVES John, may I introduce you to Sir Carr Gomm. MERRICK Hello... my name is John Merrick. I am very pleased to meet you. Carr Gomm, still shaken, instinctively offers his hand. CARR I'm very... pleased to meet you. Before Carr Gomm can withdraw his hand, Merrick grasps it with his left hand. There is an uncomfortable silence. Merrick releases it. Carr Gomn, nervously clears his throat. CARR How are you feeling today? MERRICK I feel much better. Thank you for asking. And you? CARR I'm feeling very fit, thank you. How is your bronchitis? MERRICK I feel much better. Thank you. CARR Are you comfortable here? MERRICK Everyone has been very kind. I am extremely grateful. TREVES Mr. Merrick likes the food here. Don't you John? MERRICK Oh yes! It is much better than what I am used to. CARR Oh yes? TREVES (after a pause) And what was that, John? MERRICK Potatoes... There is another agonizing silence. TREVES (to Carr Gomm) ...Yes potatoes... but... MERRICK But the variety of food here is very pleasing... I commend you. CARR (after a pause) I understand that you were beaten? Merrick is at a loss. This is not part of the expected scenario. DIERRICK Oh no, everyone has been very kind. CARR No, I meant in your former situation. Merrick doesn't seem to understand. MERRICK I'm feeling much better now... Carr Gomm stares levelly at Treves for a moment, then asks Merrick: CARR Tell me, how do you like Mr. Treves? As a teacher? Treves stiffens. MERRICK ...I... everyone has been very kind to me. CARR Of course. How long did you and Mr. Treves prepare for this interview? Merrick looks at Treves for guidance, but Treves cannot look him in the eye. MERRICK ...everyone has been very kind. CARR Yes, of course... Well, it's been a pleasure meeting you, Mr. Merrick. Good day. TREVES (to John) Thank you, John. You did very well. Treves and Carr Gomm go out the door onto the landing. Merrick sees his chance escaping him and tries to recapture their attention. MERRICK (his voice is gaining strength) The Lord is my shepherd, I shall not want. He maketh me to lie down in green pastures... (he continues through the following dialogue) Treves and Carr Gomm are alone on the landing, speaking quietly. CARR It was a nice try, Treves, but the man is so obviously mouthing your words. TREVES Yes, I'm very sorry to have wasted your time, sir. I just felt that I had to do anything I could to protect him. CARR I'm sorry too. He simply doesn't belong here. He's be much happier somewhere else, where he could be constantly looked after. Believe me, Frederick, it's better that it worked out this way. Good day. Merrick has come to the end of what Treves taught him to say. He makes one last, desperate attempt to be heard. Treves, disheartened, stands on the landing as Carr Gomm starts down the stairs. MERRICK (V.O.) (now full voice) Yea, though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I will fear no evil, for Thou art with me; Thy rod and Thy staff, they comfort me... Treves is staring, open-mouthed, back into the room. Carr Gomm looks up at him. CARR What is it, Treves? MERRICK (V.O.) Thou preparest a table before me in the presence of mine enemies, Thou anointest my head with oil... TREVES I didn't teach him that part! Treves rushes back into the room, followed by Carr Gomm. MERRICK My cup runneth over. Surely goodness and loving kindness shall follow me all the days of my life, and I shall dwell in the house of the Lord forever. There is a long silence as all three men stare at each other. TREVES How did you, know the rest? I never taught you the rest of it. CARR I don't understand. TREVES Tell me, John, how did you know the rest of the 23rd Psalm? MERRICK (hesitantly) I... I used to read the Bible every day. I know it very well. The Bible, and the Book of Common Prayer. The 23rd Psalm is very beautiful. ISOLATION WARD A few minutes later. We hear voices inside the room. CARR (V.O.) It was a great pleasure to meet you, Mr. Merrick. MERRICK I am very pleased to meet you. CARR I hope we can talk together again sometime. Good day. The door opens and Carr Gomm and Treves come out. TREVES (to Merrick) I'll be right back. He closes the door. CARR I want to see you in my office as soon as you're through up here. We've a good deal to discuss. He starts down the stairs. TREVES Of course, sir. Thank you, thank you very much. Carr Gomm stops on the stairs. CARR Treves. Well done. TREVES Not me, sir. Mr. Merrick. He succeeded in spite of my shortsightedness. ISOLATION WARD Merrick is on the bed, propped up by pillows. The door opens. Treves comes in, shuts the door and leans against it. They look at each other for a moment. TREVES Why did you let me go on like that, teaching you what you already knew? Why didn't you tell me you could read? MERRICK You did not ask me. TREVES I never thought to ask. How can you ever forgive me? MERRICK Oh, no do not say that. You have been so kind to me. I was afraid to say too much. People always want me to be quiet. You wanted me to speak, but I was afraid. Forgive me. TREVES We do have a lot to talk about, don't we? CARR GOMM'S OFFICE Carr Gomm is seated at the window, looking out silently. There is a knock at the door and Treves enters. He quietly closes the door and walks to the window. Carr Gomm never moves. CARR Can you imagine what his life has been like? TREVES Yes, I think I can. CARR No you can't. You can't begin to know, no one can. Carr Gomm suddenly stands and faces Treves. CARR You are quite right, Treves, this is an exceptional case. And I quite agree that the committee should see Mr. Merrick. TREVES I could easily arrange... CARR No, not that way. Broadneck and the others don't like to deal with patients directly. It makes them queasy... Do you have any photographs of Mr. Merrick? TREVES Well, yes. CARR Excellent. We shall present them, along with the other particulars of the case to the committee. I want them to see, exactly, how horribly his body has been affected. You and I shall vouch for his inner qualities. TREVES Do you think they'll go along with us? CARR Of course they will. They're reasonable men. ISOLATION WARD Merrick is in bed, very tired. It's been an exhausting day. Suddenly the door opens and Mothershead comes into the room. Merrick looks up at her very apprehensively. She walks over to the bed, picks up the Bible from the table, opens it and hands it to Merrick. MOTHERSHEAD Read it. Merrick looks down at the Bible. MERRICK Thou heardest my voice; hide not thine ear at my breathing, At my cry. Mothershead backs slowly to the door, deeply disturbed. She stares at Merrick for a moment. MOTHERSHEAD Credit where credit is due. You'll have the paper every morning at breakfast. She quickly turns and exits. Merrick looks down at the Bible. It is open to "Lamentations". HALLWAY - THE LONDON (NIGHT) As before the lights are going off in one hallway after another. The hallways are empty, dark and silent. We hear the great iron door close with a bang. ISOLATION WARD (NIGHT) Merrick is in his bed as always. He holds the portrait of the beautiful woman, gazing at it longingly. He hears a door close far away in the silence of the hospital. Suddenly we hear the heavy footfalls of the Night Porter's boots. As they get louder and louder we move slowly closer to Merrick's face. The sound is very close now, and Merrick's eyes are visibly agitated. Finally, the door bursts open and the Night Porter is standing there. He stares malevolently at Merrick for a long moment and then walks to him menacingly. NIGHT PORTER I hear you have some trouble sleepin'... He grabs Merrick fiercely by the hair and jerks his head back. Merrick immediately starts to wheeze and gasp. NIGHT PORTER Head's too heavy, eh? He pulls Merrick all the way down onto the bed, so that he is prone, struggling for breath. NIGHT PORTER And I heard a nasty rumor about you; I heard you can talk but you can't, can you... can you... can you?... MERRICK (struggling) Noooo! The Night Porter is as first surprised, and then pleased at the desperate sound. NIGHT PORTER No... No you can't! One word about me out of that stinking cakehole... Just ONE word, and you'll have no trouble at sleepin'... no trouble at all. You understand me? Do you!! MERRICK (croaking) Yyyesss. Satisfied, the Night Porter rights Merrick who is just able to catch his breath. The Night Porter smiles and pats Merrick on the shoulder. NIGHT PORTER There now, that's better, i'n' it? HALLWAY Treves and Carr Gomm are on their way to the committee meeting, confident of their position. Treves is holding a folder, and Carr Gomm is looking at the photographs of Merrick. CARR As far as I can see, the only obstacle might be Broadneck. He has enormous influence over the others, very old school, not an easy man to impress. In any case, if worse does come to worse, we still have the British and Royal Homes to fall back on, don't we. Treves is silent. They stop. CARR Don't we? TREVES No, we don't. Their committees have informed me that they're unwilling to take Mr. Merrick, even if they were supplied with funds. They don't want

glowing

How many times the word 'glowing' appears in the text?

you? He puts the bowl down again and goes back to Merrick, who seems very upset at leaving his hiding place. TREVES Now please, John, you must do as I say. Come up from there. He starts to help Merrick up, but Merrick just presses himself farther back in the corner, still babbling. There are two raps at the door. Treves goes to it and lets Mothershead in. MOTHERSHEAD Good morning, Mr. Treves. It'll be his bath-time soon. Has he eaten? TREVES Not quite yet, Mrs. Mothershead. There seems to be some difficulty this morning. They both look at the bed. Merrick has almost disappeared under it. MOTHERSHEAD Won't come out, eh? TREVES No, he's very upset about something. MOTHERSHEAD Just being obstinate, sir. I'll handle it. She goes to Merrick and takes hold of his left wrist. MOTHERSHEAD Alright, my son, none of this fuss. Come up from there, this instant. She starts to force him up from the floor. Merrick is moaning now, still trying to get away. TREVES No! Don't pull at him like that. We don't want to frighten him more than he already is. By this time Mothershead has almost got him back on the bed. MOTHERSHEAD Honestly, sir, you must be very firm with this sort. Otherwise they'd lay about on the floor gibbering all day long. All he understands is a good smack. They help Merrick settle back on the pillow. Merrick is still making desperate, unintelligible sounds. TREVES He's had his share of "smacks", Mothershead. I expect that's what drives him under the bed. We must use patience and understanding with this man. MOTHERSHEAD Perhaps you've got the time for that, Mr. Treves, I certainly don't. I've got an entire hospital to look after, and you have your real patients. Don't waste your time with him sir, it's like talking to a wall. I don't mean to be harsh, but truthfully what can you do for him? I'll be back later for his bath. And Mr. Carr Gomm would like to see you when you have a moment. Good day sir. She exits. Treves shuts the door behind her and turns back to the bed. TREVES (to himself) What good am I to you...? He goes to the bed and sits down in front of Merrick, angered by his own seeming uselessness in the situation. TREVES ...What is my purpose? ...It's so important that I understand you. I want to help you, I want to be your doctor... (directly to Merrick) but I can't help you unless you help me, unless I know what you are feeling. I believe there's something back there, there's something you want to say, but I've got to understand you. Do you understand me? Merrick hesitates, then starts babbling again. TREVES No! You are going to talk to me! We are going to show them! We're going to show them that you're not a wall. We are going to talk! Do you understand? Nod your head if you understand me! Slowly Merrick nods yes. TREVES You do understand me! You understand. Now you're going to say it. I've got to hear how you say things. Now, very slowly, say "yes." Treves carefully mouths the word. TREVES "Yes." Merrick is still hesitant, from years of fear, but his eyes betray a growing excitement. Slowly, he tries to talk, his voice a tremulous whisper. MERRICK Yyyy... Yyye... yyyess. TREVES (grabbing Merrick's arm) Yes John! Throughout their dialogue, Merrick is still very garbled, but he no longer babbles. He makes a great effort to speak slowly, to form words the way Treves forms them, to be understood. MERRICK ...Yyes TREVES Yyyess. MERRICK Yyess. TREVES That's much better. I could understand that "yes". MERRICK (pleased) Yes! TREVES Very good! Oh yes! Now listen. I'm going to say some things to you and I want you to repeat them... um... I want you to say them back to me. Do you understand? I'm going to say some things to you and I want you to say them back to me. Do you understand? MERRICK Yes. TREVES Excellent! Now, say... "Hello" MERRICK Hello... TREVES My name is... MERRICK My... name is... TREVES John Merrick. MERRICK John... Merrick TREVES Say "Merrick". MERRICK Merrick... TREVES Say "Mmmerrick." MERRICK Mmmerrick. TREVES Say "Mmmerrick." MERRICK Mmmerrick. TREVES Well, that's alright. I understand you. Now, say the whole thing again, Hello ... MERRICK (haltingly) Hello... my name is... John Merrick. DISSOLVE TO HALLWAY Mrs. Mothershead comes out of the kitchen with a supper tray and walks down the hall, passing the open ward door. We see nurses serving patients their supper. Nora comes out of the ward with a tray which she holds tightly against her. A bowl of soup is spilling on her apron. She catches up with Mothershead. They speak as they walk. NORA Oh, Mrs. Mothershead, please forgive my behavior yesterday. I'm sorry if you're having to do extra work on my account. It was just seeing it... MOTHERSHEAD Patients here are not "its". They are either "he's" or "she's", but that's alright, Ireland. This one's going to be more work for all of us. Good God girl! Mind your broth. Mothershead continues on. Nora guiltily watches her go. ISOLATION WARD Treves and Merrick are absorbed in their work. A knock comes at the door. TREVES Come in. Mothershead enters. TREVES Why, my dear Mrs. Mothershead, how good of you to join us. Mr. Merrick, will you please introduce yourself? MERRICK (hesitantly) Hello, my name is John Merrick. MOTHERSHEAD Good Lord, Mr. Treves! TREVES (exuberantly) We've made tremendous strides today, Mothershead. He listens and repeats with great attention, and this certainly isn't easy for him. MOTHERSHEAD Parrots can do as much, Mr. Treves. It's all very nice, but I don't see the point. You know they won't let him stay here. TREVES (lowering his voice) I'm sure that if Mr. Merrick made a good impression on the hospital committee they'd see that he's the exception to their rule. Now I'm not expecting miracles. I'm not saying he'll be able to read or write, but I do think that I can get him to speak for himself. I'm going to arrange things with Carr Gomm right now. (to Merrick) That was very good, John, very good. That's all for today. We shall do some more tomorrow. Mothershead? Mrs. Mothershead sets the tray down beside Merrick. TREVES I'll see you soon. He and Mothershead exit. Merrick watches the door close. He sighs quietly, looks about, and sees the Bible on the bedside table. He picks it up and, gently runs his fingers over the cover. RECEIVING ROOM - THE LONDON There is total pandemonium in the receiving room. The room is filled with screaming men, women and children. Two drunken women have been fighting with broken bottles and are now covered with blood and cuts. The women are still hysterical, one minute they're sobbing, then in an instant screaming and intent upon fighting again. The crowd keeps them apart. Two Bobbies stand in the background making no move to intercede. To the side we see Bytes watching everything. It is still too violent a scene for the Nurses to come to the women's aide and they stand up in the front of the room waiting. Bytes makes his way along the side of the crowd waiting for a chance to get behind the Nurses and on into the hospital. Now the women begin sobbing again and things quiet some. The Nurses come forward into the crowd. Bytes moves over closer to the hallways. When the Nurses have all gone into the crowd he seizes the chance and disappears into the hospital. CUT TO: Bytes appears and walks down hospital hallway looking about. CARR GOMM'S OFFICE The door opens and Treves enters. CARR (V.O.) Ah, Treves... Treves sits in the armchair. Carr Gomm is sitting at his desk. CARR Have you contacted the British Home and the Royal Hospital? TREVES Ah, no sir. I had planned to see them in the morning. CARR Good! How is the patient? TREVES He's doing very well. In fact that's why I came to see you. I think that if I were to present Mr. Merrick to the hospital committee, then they would have a chance to see for themselves not only the extraordinary nature of the disease, but of the man as well. If the committee had a chance to speak with him, hear him say a few words for himself, I'm sure they would see him as a patient, rather than as a violation of the rules. CARR A few words? I thought he was imbecile? TREVES Well sir, perhaps I should explain... CARR I really don't think that's necessary Treves. I'm quite sure the committee will be able to make an equitable decision on the merits of the case, such as they are. TREVES I don't agree. No one can make a reasonable decision about this man's future without at least meeting him. No doctor would presume to diagnose a patient he had never met. CARR No, Treves, it's out of the question. Now if it was up to me, I'd say "Certainly, let's meet the fellow, by all means," I'm sorry, I simply can't speak for the other members of the committee. TREVES Then will you meet him, as a representative of the committee. CARR Mr. Treves, it's out of the question. I want to hear as soon as possible what the other hospitals can do. I'm sorry. HALLWAY - STAIRCASE - THE LONDON We see Treves leave Carr Gomm's office and walk toward us to the stairwell. As Treves begins down the stairs, he sees Bytes on the next landing coming up. Bytes spots him and goes toward him. BYTES I want my man back. TREVES Just a moment, how did you get in here? BYTES Never mind that, I want my man! TREVES He's still very sick. Please come downstairs with me. I'll explain the situation. BYTES (shouting) DON'T... Don't muck me about. You've had plenty of time to fix him up, and he's leaving with me, NOW. Do you understand me? Now, Mr. Treves. We had a bargain! TREVES You misunderstood. This man suffered a severe fall, if you take my meaning. He's my patient now and I must do what... BYTES Pull the other one, why don't you! We made a deal! TREVES I know what you've done to him and he's never going back to that. BYTES He's a freak! That's how they live. We're partners, him and I, business partners. You're willfully deprivin' me of my livlihood! TREVES All you do is profit from another man's misery! BYTES You think you're better 'n me? YOU wanted the freak to show all your doctor chums and make a name for yourself, you guv. So I gave him to you. On trust, in the name of science! And now I want him back. TREVES You don't own this man! BYTES I want him back! TREVES So you can beat him? So you can starve him? A dog in the street would fare better with you! BYTES I've got my rights, damn you, and I'm going to the authorities! CARR (V.O.) Well, go to the authorities... Now we see Carr Gomm standing above them, at the top of the stairs. CARR By all means do so. In fact, I'll fetch them myself. I'm quite sure they'd be very interested in your story, as well as ours. Livid, Bytes looks from Carr Gomm to Treves, at a loss for words. TREVES Now I think we really do understand one another. BYTES (venomously) Right... Right. He backs slowly down to the landing eyeing Treves and Carr Gomm. At the landing he casually turns and disappears down more stairs. Treves turns and gazes at Carr Gomm. CARR Singularly unpleasant chap... uh... I don't suppose there would be any harm in my meeting your... patient, Mr. Treves. TREVES (gratefully) Thank you very much Sir. Shall we say in a few days then? CARR Shall we say two o'clock tomorrow afternoon? TREVES (slightly taken aback) Wh... whatever is most convenient for you, sir. CARR Two o'clock then... you know Treves... It seems this acquaintance of yours has become rather more than just an acquaintance. TREVES ...Yes, Sir. They part company. We follow Treves down the stairs. TREVES (muttering) Two o'clock? Then we follow Carr Gomm to his office door. He stops short. CARR (mumbling out loud) Elephant Man? I don't want to meet an Elephant Man. HALLWAYS - THE LONDON (NIGHT) Again, the hospital is closing down for the night. Lights go off in each hallway. The staff is vacating the hospital. As the last light goes off, we hear the great iron door slam shut. TREVES' HOUSE - BEDROOM (NIGHT) Anne is at her dressing table, brushing out her hair. She is in a very flattering dressing gown, ready to turn in. We see her reflected in the mirror as well as Treves who is in his robe in the background seated at his side of their bed, deep in thought. Anne looks at Treves and smiles affectionately. ANNE (coyly) Freddie? Getting no response she renews her efforts. ANNE Freddie?... Freddie, don't look so discouraged. TREVES I shouldn't be. We made great progress today. I taught him to repeat a few basic phrases. He did rather well, too, but I had to lead him every step of the way. Though frankly, at times I was unsure of who was leading whom. ANNE What do you mean? TREVES Well, I wasn't sure whether he was parroting me because that's all he was capable of, or whether he sensed that that's all I wanted to hear, and he was trying to please me. ANNE But I thought you said that he was rather... simple? TREVES He is. I mean, I've always thought he was. I think he must be. Is he simple? Or is that just something I've wished upon him to make things simpler for myself? Anne puts down the brush and rises. ANNE Frederick, why are you so interested in this particular case? TREVES I don't know. I can't explain it. If this is an intelligent man, trapped in the body of a monster, then I'm under a moral obligation to help free that mind, free that spirit as best I can, to help him live as full and content a life as possible. But! If he's an imbecile, who's body I can't treat and who's mind I can't touch, well, then my obligation is discharged. They can put him where they will; he won't be bothered, I won't be bothered, and everyone's conscience can remain free and untroubled. And that is my dilemma... what is in his mind? Anne, sympathizing with his concerns goes to him and puts her arms around him. ANNE Perhaps you're just polishing a stone, endowing this Elephant Man with qualities he doesn't possess? TREVES (impatiently) And what qualities are those? Intelligence or stupidity? ANNE (slightly hurt) I'm sure I don't know, Freddie. She releases Treves and lies down. Treves realizes that perhaps he has been unkind. TREVES I'm sorry... I don't know either. I just don't know. ANNE Well, these things take time. TREVES I've only got until two o'clock tomorrow afternoon, when Carr Gomm meets him. Somehow, between now and then I've got to make John Merrick at least seem like an intelligent man... Why am I fooling myself? Nothing short of John delivering the Sermon on the Mount is going to sway Carr Gomm... Anne sits back up and gently places her hand over Treves' mouth. As she does so she leans forward and turns out the light. ISOLATION WARD Merrick is propped up in bed. Suddenly the door bursts open. The Night Porter, an arm around a drunken giggling tart, stands in the doorway. As soon as the Charwoman sees Merrick, she screams as does Merrick, and she wriggles free, making for the stairs. The Night Porter watches her go and then turns to Merrick laughing noisily. He then pulls the door shut with a bang. Merrick, very frightened, crawls down into his hiding place. BEDROOM (MORNING) We see Anne alone in bed, asleep. Treves is finished dressing and leaves the room. The sound of the door closing awakens Anne. She looks around for Treves. A clock reads 5:30. ISOLATION WARD Merrick's disguise hangs on the wall. MERRICK (V.O.) The Lord is my shepherd, I shall not want, he maketh me to lie down in green pastures; He leadeth me beside still waters. He restoreth my soul: He Guideth me in the paths of righteousness... TREVES Righteousness... MERRICK (V.O.) Righteousness for his namesake. WE NOW SEE TREVES AND MERRICK TREVES Very good, very good. Now, when your visitor comes today I want you to say it exactly the way you said it just now. I will introduce him to you and you will say the words you've learned. If you have any trouble with any of the words, I'll help you. I'm sure you'll be just fine. If you do as well for him as you've done for me these last two days, then I'm sure our visitor will be very pleased. Now, let's go through the whole thing again, shall we? I will say "May I introduce you to Mr. Carr Gomm." And you will say... MERRICK Hello, my name is John Merrick. I am very pleased to meet you! HALLWAY Treves and Carr Gomm are speaking together as they walk along. TREVES It's only a physical problem. He has trouble with certain sounds because of the constrictive deformity of the mouth. But he can talk, and has a great eagerness to make contact with people who will let him. So if you have any difficulty understanding what he is saying, just tell me and I'll make it clear. CARR Speaking is one thing, Treves, but can the man comprehend? Treves cannot easily answer this question. TREVES ...As I said, it's only a physical problem... but I do feel that Mr. Merrick is very flattered that you're taking the time and trouble to meet him, and he's most anxious to make a good impression, so he might seem rather nervous. CARR He needn't. I have no desire to cause him any discomfort. Did you make those inquiries we spoke about? TREVES Yes, I spoke to both the British Home and Royal Hospital for Incurables. I'm afraid that they weren't very encouraging, but they said they'd bring it up at their next committee meeting, so we should have their answers shortly. CARR Fine, fine. You know, your dedication to this patient is an inspiring thing, Treves. But you must remember that this is a hospital, and there are many patients here. Patients who can be made well, and you owe them your first consideration. Just don't become so obsessed, old man, that you begin to neglect them. Carr Gomm starts up the stairs. Treves remains behind, watching him for a moment, then follows. ISOLATION WARD Merrick is standing beside his disguise on its hook. He nervously smooths the cloak down, repositions the Bible on the bedside table and smooths the cloak again. He looks at the door, expecting it to open. It doesn't. His hands smooths the cloak over and over again. Voices can be heard outside the door. Merrick freezes. There are two raps at the door. Merrick flinches, clutching the cloak. The raps are repeated. He pulls himself together and walks to the middle of the room. He takes a deep breath and closes his eyes. MERRICK Come in. The door opens and Treves and Carr Gomm enter. Carr Gomm's eyes are rivited on Merrick, but he contains his shock. Merrick is breathing unevenly, his eyes still closed. Treves goes to him and touches his shoulder. Merrick opens his eyes and looks up at Treves. Treves turns to Carr Gomm, as does Merrick. Carr Gomm lowers his eyes. TREVES John, may I introduce you to Sir Carr Gomm. MERRICK Hello... my name is John Merrick. I am very pleased to meet you. Carr Gomm, still shaken, instinctively offers his hand. CARR I'm very... pleased to meet you. Before Carr Gomm can withdraw his hand, Merrick grasps it with his left hand. There is an uncomfortable silence. Merrick releases it. Carr Gomn, nervously clears his throat. CARR How are you feeling today? MERRICK I feel much better. Thank you for asking. And you? CARR I'm feeling very fit, thank you. How is your bronchitis? MERRICK I feel much better. Thank you. CARR Are you comfortable here? MERRICK Everyone has been very kind. I am extremely grateful. TREVES Mr. Merrick likes the food here. Don't you John? MERRICK Oh yes! It is much better than what I am used to. CARR Oh yes? TREVES (after a pause) And what was that, John? MERRICK Potatoes... There is another agonizing silence. TREVES (to Carr Gomm) ...Yes potatoes... but... MERRICK But the variety of food here is very pleasing... I commend you. CARR (after a pause) I understand that you were beaten? Merrick is at a loss. This is not part of the expected scenario. DIERRICK Oh no, everyone has been very kind. CARR No, I meant in your former situation. Merrick doesn't seem to understand. MERRICK I'm feeling much better now... Carr Gomm stares levelly at Treves for a moment, then asks Merrick: CARR Tell me, how do you like Mr. Treves? As a teacher? Treves stiffens. MERRICK ...I... everyone has been very kind to me. CARR Of course. How long did you and Mr. Treves prepare for this interview? Merrick looks at Treves for guidance, but Treves cannot look him in the eye. MERRICK ...everyone has been very kind. CARR Yes, of course... Well, it's been a pleasure meeting you, Mr. Merrick. Good day. TREVES (to John) Thank you, John. You did very well. Treves and Carr Gomm go out the door onto the landing. Merrick sees his chance escaping him and tries to recapture their attention. MERRICK (his voice is gaining strength) The Lord is my shepherd, I shall not want. He maketh me to lie down in green pastures... (he continues through the following dialogue) Treves and Carr Gomm are alone on the landing, speaking quietly. CARR It was a nice try, Treves, but the man is so obviously mouthing your words. TREVES Yes, I'm very sorry to have wasted your time, sir. I just felt that I had to do anything I could to protect him. CARR I'm sorry too. He simply doesn't belong here. He's be much happier somewhere else, where he could be constantly looked after. Believe me, Frederick, it's better that it worked out this way. Good day. Merrick has come to the end of what Treves taught him to say. He makes one last, desperate attempt to be heard. Treves, disheartened, stands on the landing as Carr Gomm starts down the stairs. MERRICK (V.O.) (now full voice) Yea, though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I will fear no evil, for Thou art with me; Thy rod and Thy staff, they comfort me... Treves is staring, open-mouthed, back into the room. Carr Gomm looks up at him. CARR What is it, Treves? MERRICK (V.O.) Thou preparest a table before me in the presence of mine enemies, Thou anointest my head with oil... TREVES I didn't teach him that part! Treves rushes back into the room, followed by Carr Gomm. MERRICK My cup runneth over. Surely goodness and loving kindness shall follow me all the days of my life, and I shall dwell in the house of the Lord forever. There is a long silence as all three men stare at each other. TREVES How did you, know the rest? I never taught you the rest of it. CARR I don't understand. TREVES Tell me, John, how did you know the rest of the 23rd Psalm? MERRICK (hesitantly) I... I used to read the Bible every day. I know it very well. The Bible, and the Book of Common Prayer. The 23rd Psalm is very beautiful. ISOLATION WARD A few minutes later. We hear voices inside the room. CARR (V.O.) It was a great pleasure to meet you, Mr. Merrick. MERRICK I am very pleased to meet you. CARR I hope we can talk together again sometime. Good day. The door opens and Carr Gomm and Treves come out. TREVES (to Merrick) I'll be right back. He closes the door. CARR I want to see you in my office as soon as you're through up here. We've a good deal to discuss. He starts down the stairs. TREVES Of course, sir. Thank you, thank you very much. Carr Gomm stops on the stairs. CARR Treves. Well done. TREVES Not me, sir. Mr. Merrick. He succeeded in spite of my shortsightedness. ISOLATION WARD Merrick is on the bed, propped up by pillows. The door opens. Treves comes in, shuts the door and leans against it. They look at each other for a moment. TREVES Why did you let me go on like that, teaching you what you already knew? Why didn't you tell me you could read? MERRICK You did not ask me. TREVES I never thought to ask. How can you ever forgive me? MERRICK Oh, no do not say that. You have been so kind to me. I was afraid to say too much. People always want me to be quiet. You wanted me to speak, but I was afraid. Forgive me. TREVES We do have a lot to talk about, don't we? CARR GOMM'S OFFICE Carr Gomm is seated at the window, looking out silently. There is a knock at the door and Treves enters. He quietly closes the door and walks to the window. Carr Gomm never moves. CARR Can you imagine what his life has been like? TREVES Yes, I think I can. CARR No you can't. You can't begin to know, no one can. Carr Gomm suddenly stands and faces Treves. CARR You are quite right, Treves, this is an exceptional case. And I quite agree that the committee should see Mr. Merrick. TREVES I could easily arrange... CARR No, not that way. Broadneck and the others don't like to deal with patients directly. It makes them queasy... Do you have any photographs of Mr. Merrick? TREVES Well, yes. CARR Excellent. We shall present them, along with the other particulars of the case to the committee. I want them to see, exactly, how horribly his body has been affected. You and I shall vouch for his inner qualities. TREVES Do you think they'll go along with us? CARR Of course they will. They're reasonable men. ISOLATION WARD Merrick is in bed, very tired. It's been an exhausting day. Suddenly the door opens and Mothershead comes into the room. Merrick looks up at her very apprehensively. She walks over to the bed, picks up the Bible from the table, opens it and hands it to Merrick. MOTHERSHEAD Read it. Merrick looks down at the Bible. MERRICK Thou heardest my voice; hide not thine ear at my breathing, At my cry. Mothershead backs slowly to the door, deeply disturbed. She stares at Merrick for a moment. MOTHERSHEAD Credit where credit is due. You'll have the paper every morning at breakfast. She quickly turns and exits. Merrick looks down at the Bible. It is open to "Lamentations". HALLWAY - THE LONDON (NIGHT) As before the lights are going off in one hallway after another. The hallways are empty, dark and silent. We hear the great iron door close with a bang. ISOLATION WARD (NIGHT) Merrick is in his bed as always. He holds the portrait of the beautiful woman, gazing at it longingly. He hears a door close far away in the silence of the hospital. Suddenly we hear the heavy footfalls of the Night Porter's boots. As they get louder and louder we move slowly closer to Merrick's face. The sound is very close now, and Merrick's eyes are visibly agitated. Finally, the door bursts open and the Night Porter is standing there. He stares malevolently at Merrick for a long moment and then walks to him menacingly. NIGHT PORTER I hear you have some trouble sleepin'... He grabs Merrick fiercely by the hair and jerks his head back. Merrick immediately starts to wheeze and gasp. NIGHT PORTER Head's too heavy, eh? He pulls Merrick all the way down onto the bed, so that he is prone, struggling for breath. NIGHT PORTER And I heard a nasty rumor about you; I heard you can talk but you can't, can you... can you... can you?... MERRICK (struggling) Noooo! The Night Porter is as first surprised, and then pleased at the desperate sound. NIGHT PORTER No... No you can't! One word about me out of that stinking cakehole... Just ONE word, and you'll have no trouble at sleepin'... no trouble at all. You understand me? Do you!! MERRICK (croaking) Yyyesss. Satisfied, the Night Porter rights Merrick who is just able to catch his breath. The Night Porter smiles and pats Merrick on the shoulder. NIGHT PORTER There now, that's better, i'n' it? HALLWAY Treves and Carr Gomm are on their way to the committee meeting, confident of their position. Treves is holding a folder, and Carr Gomm is looking at the photographs of Merrick. CARR As far as I can see, the only obstacle might be Broadneck. He has enormous influence over the others, very old school, not an easy man to impress. In any case, if worse does come to worse, we still have the British and Royal Homes to fall back on, don't we. Treves is silent. They stop. CARR Don't we? TREVES No, we don't. Their committees have informed me that they're unwilling to take Mr. Merrick, even if they were supplied with funds. They don't want

desk

How many times the word 'desk' appears in the text?

you? He puts the bowl down again and goes back to Merrick, who seems very upset at leaving his hiding place. TREVES Now please, John, you must do as I say. Come up from there. He starts to help Merrick up, but Merrick just presses himself farther back in the corner, still babbling. There are two raps at the door. Treves goes to it and lets Mothershead in. MOTHERSHEAD Good morning, Mr. Treves. It'll be his bath-time soon. Has he eaten? TREVES Not quite yet, Mrs. Mothershead. There seems to be some difficulty this morning. They both look at the bed. Merrick has almost disappeared under it. MOTHERSHEAD Won't come out, eh? TREVES No, he's very upset about something. MOTHERSHEAD Just being obstinate, sir. I'll handle it. She goes to Merrick and takes hold of his left wrist. MOTHERSHEAD Alright, my son, none of this fuss. Come up from there, this instant. She starts to force him up from the floor. Merrick is moaning now, still trying to get away. TREVES No! Don't pull at him like that. We don't want to frighten him more than he already is. By this time Mothershead has almost got him back on the bed. MOTHERSHEAD Honestly, sir, you must be very firm with this sort. Otherwise they'd lay about on the floor gibbering all day long. All he understands is a good smack. They help Merrick settle back on the pillow. Merrick is still making desperate, unintelligible sounds. TREVES He's had his share of "smacks", Mothershead. I expect that's what drives him under the bed. We must use patience and understanding with this man. MOTHERSHEAD Perhaps you've got the time for that, Mr. Treves, I certainly don't. I've got an entire hospital to look after, and you have your real patients. Don't waste your time with him sir, it's like talking to a wall. I don't mean to be harsh, but truthfully what can you do for him? I'll be back later for his bath. And Mr. Carr Gomm would like to see you when you have a moment. Good day sir. She exits. Treves shuts the door behind her and turns back to the bed. TREVES (to himself) What good am I to you...? He goes to the bed and sits down in front of Merrick, angered by his own seeming uselessness in the situation. TREVES ...What is my purpose? ...It's so important that I understand you. I want to help you, I want to be your doctor... (directly to Merrick) but I can't help you unless you help me, unless I know what you are feeling. I believe there's something back there, there's something you want to say, but I've got to understand you. Do you understand me? Merrick hesitates, then starts babbling again. TREVES No! You are going to talk to me! We are going to show them! We're going to show them that you're not a wall. We are going to talk! Do you understand? Nod your head if you understand me! Slowly Merrick nods yes. TREVES You do understand me! You understand. Now you're going to say it. I've got to hear how you say things. Now, very slowly, say "yes." Treves carefully mouths the word. TREVES "Yes." Merrick is still hesitant, from years of fear, but his eyes betray a growing excitement. Slowly, he tries to talk, his voice a tremulous whisper. MERRICK Yyyy... Yyye... yyyess. TREVES (grabbing Merrick's arm) Yes John! Throughout their dialogue, Merrick is still very garbled, but he no longer babbles. He makes a great effort to speak slowly, to form words the way Treves forms them, to be understood. MERRICK ...Yyes TREVES Yyyess. MERRICK Yyess. TREVES That's much better. I could understand that "yes". MERRICK (pleased) Yes! TREVES Very good! Oh yes! Now listen. I'm going to say some things to you and I want you to repeat them... um... I want you to say them back to me. Do you understand? I'm going to say some things to you and I want you to say them back to me. Do you understand? MERRICK Yes. TREVES Excellent! Now, say... "Hello" MERRICK Hello... TREVES My name is... MERRICK My... name is... TREVES John Merrick. MERRICK John... Merrick TREVES Say "Merrick". MERRICK Merrick... TREVES Say "Mmmerrick." MERRICK Mmmerrick. TREVES Say "Mmmerrick." MERRICK Mmmerrick. TREVES Well, that's alright. I understand you. Now, say the whole thing again, Hello ... MERRICK (haltingly) Hello... my name is... John Merrick. DISSOLVE TO HALLWAY Mrs. Mothershead comes out of the kitchen with a supper tray and walks down the hall, passing the open ward door. We see nurses serving patients their supper. Nora comes out of the ward with a tray which she holds tightly against her. A bowl of soup is spilling on her apron. She catches up with Mothershead. They speak as they walk. NORA Oh, Mrs. Mothershead, please forgive my behavior yesterday. I'm sorry if you're having to do extra work on my account. It was just seeing it... MOTHERSHEAD Patients here are not "its". They are either "he's" or "she's", but that's alright, Ireland. This one's going to be more work for all of us. Good God girl! Mind your broth. Mothershead continues on. Nora guiltily watches her go. ISOLATION WARD Treves and Merrick are absorbed in their work. A knock comes at the door. TREVES Come in. Mothershead enters. TREVES Why, my dear Mrs. Mothershead, how good of you to join us. Mr. Merrick, will you please introduce yourself? MERRICK (hesitantly) Hello, my name is John Merrick. MOTHERSHEAD Good Lord, Mr. Treves! TREVES (exuberantly) We've made tremendous strides today, Mothershead. He listens and repeats with great attention, and this certainly isn't easy for him. MOTHERSHEAD Parrots can do as much, Mr. Treves. It's all very nice, but I don't see the point. You know they won't let him stay here. TREVES (lowering his voice) I'm sure that if Mr. Merrick made a good impression on the hospital committee they'd see that he's the exception to their rule. Now I'm not expecting miracles. I'm not saying he'll be able to read or write, but I do think that I can get him to speak for himself. I'm going to arrange things with Carr Gomm right now. (to Merrick) That was very good, John, very good. That's all for today. We shall do some more tomorrow. Mothershead? Mrs. Mothershead sets the tray down beside Merrick. TREVES I'll see you soon. He and Mothershead exit. Merrick watches the door close. He sighs quietly, looks about, and sees the Bible on the bedside table. He picks it up and, gently runs his fingers over the cover. RECEIVING ROOM - THE LONDON There is total pandemonium in the receiving room. The room is filled with screaming men, women and children. Two drunken women have been fighting with broken bottles and are now covered with blood and cuts. The women are still hysterical, one minute they're sobbing, then in an instant screaming and intent upon fighting again. The crowd keeps them apart. Two Bobbies stand in the background making no move to intercede. To the side we see Bytes watching everything. It is still too violent a scene for the Nurses to come to the women's aide and they stand up in the front of the room waiting. Bytes makes his way along the side of the crowd waiting for a chance to get behind the Nurses and on into the hospital. Now the women begin sobbing again and things quiet some. The Nurses come forward into the crowd. Bytes moves over closer to the hallways. When the Nurses have all gone into the crowd he seizes the chance and disappears into the hospital. CUT TO: Bytes appears and walks down hospital hallway looking about. CARR GOMM'S OFFICE The door opens and Treves enters. CARR (V.O.) Ah, Treves... Treves sits in the armchair. Carr Gomm is sitting at his desk. CARR Have you contacted the British Home and the Royal Hospital? TREVES Ah, no sir. I had planned to see them in the morning. CARR Good! How is the patient? TREVES He's doing very well. In fact that's why I came to see you. I think that if I were to present Mr. Merrick to the hospital committee, then they would have a chance to see for themselves not only the extraordinary nature of the disease, but of the man as well. If the committee had a chance to speak with him, hear him say a few words for himself, I'm sure they would see him as a patient, rather than as a violation of the rules. CARR A few words? I thought he was imbecile? TREVES Well sir, perhaps I should explain... CARR I really don't think that's necessary Treves. I'm quite sure the committee will be able to make an equitable decision on the merits of the case, such as they are. TREVES I don't agree. No one can make a reasonable decision about this man's future without at least meeting him. No doctor would presume to diagnose a patient he had never met. CARR No, Treves, it's out of the question. Now if it was up to me, I'd say "Certainly, let's meet the fellow, by all means," I'm sorry, I simply can't speak for the other members of the committee. TREVES Then will you meet him, as a representative of the committee. CARR Mr. Treves, it's out of the question. I want to hear as soon as possible what the other hospitals can do. I'm sorry. HALLWAY - STAIRCASE - THE LONDON We see Treves leave Carr Gomm's office and walk toward us to the stairwell. As Treves begins down the stairs, he sees Bytes on the next landing coming up. Bytes spots him and goes toward him. BYTES I want my man back. TREVES Just a moment, how did you get in here? BYTES Never mind that, I want my man! TREVES He's still very sick. Please come downstairs with me. I'll explain the situation. BYTES (shouting) DON'T... Don't muck me about. You've had plenty of time to fix him up, and he's leaving with me, NOW. Do you understand me? Now, Mr. Treves. We had a bargain! TREVES You misunderstood. This man suffered a severe fall, if you take my meaning. He's my patient now and I must do what... BYTES Pull the other one, why don't you! We made a deal! TREVES I know what you've done to him and he's never going back to that. BYTES He's a freak! That's how they live. We're partners, him and I, business partners. You're willfully deprivin' me of my livlihood! TREVES All you do is profit from another man's misery! BYTES You think you're better 'n me? YOU wanted the freak to show all your doctor chums and make a name for yourself, you guv. So I gave him to you. On trust, in the name of science! And now I want him back. TREVES You don't own this man! BYTES I want him back! TREVES So you can beat him? So you can starve him? A dog in the street would fare better with you! BYTES I've got my rights, damn you, and I'm going to the authorities! CARR (V.O.) Well, go to the authorities... Now we see Carr Gomm standing above them, at the top of the stairs. CARR By all means do so. In fact, I'll fetch them myself. I'm quite sure they'd be very interested in your story, as well as ours. Livid, Bytes looks from Carr Gomm to Treves, at a loss for words. TREVES Now I think we really do understand one another. BYTES (venomously) Right... Right. He backs slowly down to the landing eyeing Treves and Carr Gomm. At the landing he casually turns and disappears down more stairs. Treves turns and gazes at Carr Gomm. CARR Singularly unpleasant chap... uh... I don't suppose there would be any harm in my meeting your... patient, Mr. Treves. TREVES (gratefully) Thank you very much Sir. Shall we say in a few days then? CARR Shall we say two o'clock tomorrow afternoon? TREVES (slightly taken aback) Wh... whatever is most convenient for you, sir. CARR Two o'clock then... you know Treves... It seems this acquaintance of yours has become rather more than just an acquaintance. TREVES ...Yes, Sir. They part company. We follow Treves down the stairs. TREVES (muttering) Two o'clock? Then we follow Carr Gomm to his office door. He stops short. CARR (mumbling out loud) Elephant Man? I don't want to meet an Elephant Man. HALLWAYS - THE LONDON (NIGHT) Again, the hospital is closing down for the night. Lights go off in each hallway. The staff is vacating the hospital. As the last light goes off, we hear the great iron door slam shut. TREVES' HOUSE - BEDROOM (NIGHT) Anne is at her dressing table, brushing out her hair. She is in a very flattering dressing gown, ready to turn in. We see her reflected in the mirror as well as Treves who is in his robe in the background seated at his side of their bed, deep in thought. Anne looks at Treves and smiles affectionately. ANNE (coyly) Freddie? Getting no response she renews her efforts. ANNE Freddie?... Freddie, don't look so discouraged. TREVES I shouldn't be. We made great progress today. I taught him to repeat a few basic phrases. He did rather well, too, but I had to lead him every step of the way. Though frankly, at times I was unsure of who was leading whom. ANNE What do you mean? TREVES Well, I wasn't sure whether he was parroting me because that's all he was capable of, or whether he sensed that that's all I wanted to hear, and he was trying to please me. ANNE But I thought you said that he was rather... simple? TREVES He is. I mean, I've always thought he was. I think he must be. Is he simple? Or is that just something I've wished upon him to make things simpler for myself? Anne puts down the brush and rises. ANNE Frederick, why are you so interested in this particular case? TREVES I don't know. I can't explain it. If this is an intelligent man, trapped in the body of a monster, then I'm under a moral obligation to help free that mind, free that spirit as best I can, to help him live as full and content a life as possible. But! If he's an imbecile, who's body I can't treat and who's mind I can't touch, well, then my obligation is discharged. They can put him where they will; he won't be bothered, I won't be bothered, and everyone's conscience can remain free and untroubled. And that is my dilemma... what is in his mind? Anne, sympathizing with his concerns goes to him and puts her arms around him. ANNE Perhaps you're just polishing a stone, endowing this Elephant Man with qualities he doesn't possess? TREVES (impatiently) And what qualities are those? Intelligence or stupidity? ANNE (slightly hurt) I'm sure I don't know, Freddie. She releases Treves and lies down. Treves realizes that perhaps he has been unkind. TREVES I'm sorry... I don't know either. I just don't know. ANNE Well, these things take time. TREVES I've only got until two o'clock tomorrow afternoon, when Carr Gomm meets him. Somehow, between now and then I've got to make John Merrick at least seem like an intelligent man... Why am I fooling myself? Nothing short of John delivering the Sermon on the Mount is going to sway Carr Gomm... Anne sits back up and gently places her hand over Treves' mouth. As she does so she leans forward and turns out the light. ISOLATION WARD Merrick is propped up in bed. Suddenly the door bursts open. The Night Porter, an arm around a drunken giggling tart, stands in the doorway. As soon as the Charwoman sees Merrick, she screams as does Merrick, and she wriggles free, making for the stairs. The Night Porter watches her go and then turns to Merrick laughing noisily. He then pulls the door shut with a bang. Merrick, very frightened, crawls down into his hiding place. BEDROOM (MORNING) We see Anne alone in bed, asleep. Treves is finished dressing and leaves the room. The sound of the door closing awakens Anne. She looks around for Treves. A clock reads 5:30. ISOLATION WARD Merrick's disguise hangs on the wall. MERRICK (V.O.) The Lord is my shepherd, I shall not want, he maketh me to lie down in green pastures; He leadeth me beside still waters. He restoreth my soul: He Guideth me in the paths of righteousness... TREVES Righteousness... MERRICK (V.O.) Righteousness for his namesake. WE NOW SEE TREVES AND MERRICK TREVES Very good, very good. Now, when your visitor comes today I want you to say it exactly the way you said it just now. I will introduce him to you and you will say the words you've learned. If you have any trouble with any of the words, I'll help you. I'm sure you'll be just fine. If you do as well for him as you've done for me these last two days, then I'm sure our visitor will be very pleased. Now, let's go through the whole thing again, shall we? I will say "May I introduce you to Mr. Carr Gomm." And you will say... MERRICK Hello, my name is John Merrick. I am very pleased to meet you! HALLWAY Treves and Carr Gomm are speaking together as they walk along. TREVES It's only a physical problem. He has trouble with certain sounds because of the constrictive deformity of the mouth. But he can talk, and has a great eagerness to make contact with people who will let him. So if you have any difficulty understanding what he is saying, just tell me and I'll make it clear. CARR Speaking is one thing, Treves, but can the man comprehend? Treves cannot easily answer this question. TREVES ...As I said, it's only a physical problem... but I do feel that Mr. Merrick is very flattered that you're taking the time and trouble to meet him, and he's most anxious to make a good impression, so he might seem rather nervous. CARR He needn't. I have no desire to cause him any discomfort. Did you make those inquiries we spoke about? TREVES Yes, I spoke to both the British Home and Royal Hospital for Incurables. I'm afraid that they weren't very encouraging, but they said they'd bring it up at their next committee meeting, so we should have their answers shortly. CARR Fine, fine. You know, your dedication to this patient is an inspiring thing, Treves. But you must remember that this is a hospital, and there are many patients here. Patients who can be made well, and you owe them your first consideration. Just don't become so obsessed, old man, that you begin to neglect them. Carr Gomm starts up the stairs. Treves remains behind, watching him for a moment, then follows. ISOLATION WARD Merrick is standing beside his disguise on its hook. He nervously smooths the cloak down, repositions the Bible on the bedside table and smooths the cloak again. He looks at the door, expecting it to open. It doesn't. His hands smooths the cloak over and over again. Voices can be heard outside the door. Merrick freezes. There are two raps at the door. Merrick flinches, clutching the cloak. The raps are repeated. He pulls himself together and walks to the middle of the room. He takes a deep breath and closes his eyes. MERRICK Come in. The door opens and Treves and Carr Gomm enter. Carr Gomm's eyes are rivited on Merrick, but he contains his shock. Merrick is breathing unevenly, his eyes still closed. Treves goes to him and touches his shoulder. Merrick opens his eyes and looks up at Treves. Treves turns to Carr Gomm, as does Merrick. Carr Gomm lowers his eyes. TREVES John, may I introduce you to Sir Carr Gomm. MERRICK Hello... my name is John Merrick. I am very pleased to meet you. Carr Gomm, still shaken, instinctively offers his hand. CARR I'm very... pleased to meet you. Before Carr Gomm can withdraw his hand, Merrick grasps it with his left hand. There is an uncomfortable silence. Merrick releases it. Carr Gomn, nervously clears his throat. CARR How are you feeling today? MERRICK I feel much better. Thank you for asking. And you? CARR I'm feeling very fit, thank you. How is your bronchitis? MERRICK I feel much better. Thank you. CARR Are you comfortable here? MERRICK Everyone has been very kind. I am extremely grateful. TREVES Mr. Merrick likes the food here. Don't you John? MERRICK Oh yes! It is much better than what I am used to. CARR Oh yes? TREVES (after a pause) And what was that, John? MERRICK Potatoes... There is another agonizing silence. TREVES (to Carr Gomm) ...Yes potatoes... but... MERRICK But the variety of food here is very pleasing... I commend you. CARR (after a pause) I understand that you were beaten? Merrick is at a loss. This is not part of the expected scenario. DIERRICK Oh no, everyone has been very kind. CARR No, I meant in your former situation. Merrick doesn't seem to understand. MERRICK I'm feeling much better now... Carr Gomm stares levelly at Treves for a moment, then asks Merrick: CARR Tell me, how do you like Mr. Treves? As a teacher? Treves stiffens. MERRICK ...I... everyone has been very kind to me. CARR Of course. How long did you and Mr. Treves prepare for this interview? Merrick looks at Treves for guidance, but Treves cannot look him in the eye. MERRICK ...everyone has been very kind. CARR Yes, of course... Well, it's been a pleasure meeting you, Mr. Merrick. Good day. TREVES (to John) Thank you, John. You did very well. Treves and Carr Gomm go out the door onto the landing. Merrick sees his chance escaping him and tries to recapture their attention. MERRICK (his voice is gaining strength) The Lord is my shepherd, I shall not want. He maketh me to lie down in green pastures... (he continues through the following dialogue) Treves and Carr Gomm are alone on the landing, speaking quietly. CARR It was a nice try, Treves, but the man is so obviously mouthing your words. TREVES Yes, I'm very sorry to have wasted your time, sir. I just felt that I had to do anything I could to protect him. CARR I'm sorry too. He simply doesn't belong here. He's be much happier somewhere else, where he could be constantly looked after. Believe me, Frederick, it's better that it worked out this way. Good day. Merrick has come to the end of what Treves taught him to say. He makes one last, desperate attempt to be heard. Treves, disheartened, stands on the landing as Carr Gomm starts down the stairs. MERRICK (V.O.) (now full voice) Yea, though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I will fear no evil, for Thou art with me; Thy rod and Thy staff, they comfort me... Treves is staring, open-mouthed, back into the room. Carr Gomm looks up at him. CARR What is it, Treves? MERRICK (V.O.) Thou preparest a table before me in the presence of mine enemies, Thou anointest my head with oil... TREVES I didn't teach him that part! Treves rushes back into the room, followed by Carr Gomm. MERRICK My cup runneth over. Surely goodness and loving kindness shall follow me all the days of my life, and I shall dwell in the house of the Lord forever. There is a long silence as all three men stare at each other. TREVES How did you, know the rest? I never taught you the rest of it. CARR I don't understand. TREVES Tell me, John, how did you know the rest of the 23rd Psalm? MERRICK (hesitantly) I... I used to read the Bible every day. I know it very well. The Bible, and the Book of Common Prayer. The 23rd Psalm is very beautiful. ISOLATION WARD A few minutes later. We hear voices inside the room. CARR (V.O.) It was a great pleasure to meet you, Mr. Merrick. MERRICK I am very pleased to meet you. CARR I hope we can talk together again sometime. Good day. The door opens and Carr Gomm and Treves come out. TREVES (to Merrick) I'll be right back. He closes the door. CARR I want to see you in my office as soon as you're through up here. We've a good deal to discuss. He starts down the stairs. TREVES Of course, sir. Thank you, thank you very much. Carr Gomm stops on the stairs. CARR Treves. Well done. TREVES Not me, sir. Mr. Merrick. He succeeded in spite of my shortsightedness. ISOLATION WARD Merrick is on the bed, propped up by pillows. The door opens. Treves comes in, shuts the door and leans against it. They look at each other for a moment. TREVES Why did you let me go on like that, teaching you what you already knew? Why didn't you tell me you could read? MERRICK You did not ask me. TREVES I never thought to ask. How can you ever forgive me? MERRICK Oh, no do not say that. You have been so kind to me. I was afraid to say too much. People always want me to be quiet. You wanted me to speak, but I was afraid. Forgive me. TREVES We do have a lot to talk about, don't we? CARR GOMM'S OFFICE Carr Gomm is seated at the window, looking out silently. There is a knock at the door and Treves enters. He quietly closes the door and walks to the window. Carr Gomm never moves. CARR Can you imagine what his life has been like? TREVES Yes, I think I can. CARR No you can't. You can't begin to know, no one can. Carr Gomm suddenly stands and faces Treves. CARR You are quite right, Treves, this is an exceptional case. And I quite agree that the committee should see Mr. Merrick. TREVES I could easily arrange... CARR No, not that way. Broadneck and the others don't like to deal with patients directly. It makes them queasy... Do you have any photographs of Mr. Merrick? TREVES Well, yes. CARR Excellent. We shall present them, along with the other particulars of the case to the committee. I want them to see, exactly, how horribly his body has been affected. You and I shall vouch for his inner qualities. TREVES Do you think they'll go along with us? CARR Of course they will. They're reasonable men. ISOLATION WARD Merrick is in bed, very tired. It's been an exhausting day. Suddenly the door opens and Mothershead comes into the room. Merrick looks up at her very apprehensively. She walks over to the bed, picks up the Bible from the table, opens it and hands it to Merrick. MOTHERSHEAD Read it. Merrick looks down at the Bible. MERRICK Thou heardest my voice; hide not thine ear at my breathing, At my cry. Mothershead backs slowly to the door, deeply disturbed. She stares at Merrick for a moment. MOTHERSHEAD Credit where credit is due. You'll have the paper every morning at breakfast. She quickly turns and exits. Merrick looks down at the Bible. It is open to "Lamentations". HALLWAY - THE LONDON (NIGHT) As before the lights are going off in one hallway after another. The hallways are empty, dark and silent. We hear the great iron door close with a bang. ISOLATION WARD (NIGHT) Merrick is in his bed as always. He holds the portrait of the beautiful woman, gazing at it longingly. He hears a door close far away in the silence of the hospital. Suddenly we hear the heavy footfalls of the Night Porter's boots. As they get louder and louder we move slowly closer to Merrick's face. The sound is very close now, and Merrick's eyes are visibly agitated. Finally, the door bursts open and the Night Porter is standing there. He stares malevolently at Merrick for a long moment and then walks to him menacingly. NIGHT PORTER I hear you have some trouble sleepin'... He grabs Merrick fiercely by the hair and jerks his head back. Merrick immediately starts to wheeze and gasp. NIGHT PORTER Head's too heavy, eh? He pulls Merrick all the way down onto the bed, so that he is prone, struggling for breath. NIGHT PORTER And I heard a nasty rumor about you; I heard you can talk but you can't, can you... can you... can you?... MERRICK (struggling) Noooo! The Night Porter is as first surprised, and then pleased at the desperate sound. NIGHT PORTER No... No you can't! One word about me out of that stinking cakehole... Just ONE word, and you'll have no trouble at sleepin'... no trouble at all. You understand me? Do you!! MERRICK (croaking) Yyyesss. Satisfied, the Night Porter rights Merrick who is just able to catch his breath. The Night Porter smiles and pats Merrick on the shoulder. NIGHT PORTER There now, that's better, i'n' it? HALLWAY Treves and Carr Gomm are on their way to the committee meeting, confident of their position. Treves is holding a folder, and Carr Gomm is looking at the photographs of Merrick. CARR As far as I can see, the only obstacle might be Broadneck. He has enormous influence over the others, very old school, not an easy man to impress. In any case, if worse does come to worse, we still have the British and Royal Homes to fall back on, don't we. Treves is silent. They stop. CARR Don't we? TREVES No, we don't. Their committees have informed me that they're unwilling to take Mr. Merrick, even if they were supplied with funds. They don't want

trifling

How many times the word 'trifling' appears in the text?

you? He puts the bowl down again and goes back to Merrick, who seems very upset at leaving his hiding place. TREVES Now please, John, you must do as I say. Come up from there. He starts to help Merrick up, but Merrick just presses himself farther back in the corner, still babbling. There are two raps at the door. Treves goes to it and lets Mothershead in. MOTHERSHEAD Good morning, Mr. Treves. It'll be his bath-time soon. Has he eaten? TREVES Not quite yet, Mrs. Mothershead. There seems to be some difficulty this morning. They both look at the bed. Merrick has almost disappeared under it. MOTHERSHEAD Won't come out, eh? TREVES No, he's very upset about something. MOTHERSHEAD Just being obstinate, sir. I'll handle it. She goes to Merrick and takes hold of his left wrist. MOTHERSHEAD Alright, my son, none of this fuss. Come up from there, this instant. She starts to force him up from the floor. Merrick is moaning now, still trying to get away. TREVES No! Don't pull at him like that. We don't want to frighten him more than he already is. By this time Mothershead has almost got him back on the bed. MOTHERSHEAD Honestly, sir, you must be very firm with this sort. Otherwise they'd lay about on the floor gibbering all day long. All he understands is a good smack. They help Merrick settle back on the pillow. Merrick is still making desperate, unintelligible sounds. TREVES He's had his share of "smacks", Mothershead. I expect that's what drives him under the bed. We must use patience and understanding with this man. MOTHERSHEAD Perhaps you've got the time for that, Mr. Treves, I certainly don't. I've got an entire hospital to look after, and you have your real patients. Don't waste your time with him sir, it's like talking to a wall. I don't mean to be harsh, but truthfully what can you do for him? I'll be back later for his bath. And Mr. Carr Gomm would like to see you when you have a moment. Good day sir. She exits. Treves shuts the door behind her and turns back to the bed. TREVES (to himself) What good am I to you...? He goes to the bed and sits down in front of Merrick, angered by his own seeming uselessness in the situation. TREVES ...What is my purpose? ...It's so important that I understand you. I want to help you, I want to be your doctor... (directly to Merrick) but I can't help you unless you help me, unless I know what you are feeling. I believe there's something back there, there's something you want to say, but I've got to understand you. Do you understand me? Merrick hesitates, then starts babbling again. TREVES No! You are going to talk to me! We are going to show them! We're going to show them that you're not a wall. We are going to talk! Do you understand? Nod your head if you understand me! Slowly Merrick nods yes. TREVES You do understand me! You understand. Now you're going to say it. I've got to hear how you say things. Now, very slowly, say "yes." Treves carefully mouths the word. TREVES "Yes." Merrick is still hesitant, from years of fear, but his eyes betray a growing excitement. Slowly, he tries to talk, his voice a tremulous whisper. MERRICK Yyyy... Yyye... yyyess. TREVES (grabbing Merrick's arm) Yes John! Throughout their dialogue, Merrick is still very garbled, but he no longer babbles. He makes a great effort to speak slowly, to form words the way Treves forms them, to be understood. MERRICK ...Yyes TREVES Yyyess. MERRICK Yyess. TREVES That's much better. I could understand that "yes". MERRICK (pleased) Yes! TREVES Very good! Oh yes! Now listen. I'm going to say some things to you and I want you to repeat them... um... I want you to say them back to me. Do you understand? I'm going to say some things to you and I want you to say them back to me. Do you understand? MERRICK Yes. TREVES Excellent! Now, say... "Hello" MERRICK Hello... TREVES My name is... MERRICK My... name is... TREVES John Merrick. MERRICK John... Merrick TREVES Say "Merrick". MERRICK Merrick... TREVES Say "Mmmerrick." MERRICK Mmmerrick. TREVES Say "Mmmerrick." MERRICK Mmmerrick. TREVES Well, that's alright. I understand you. Now, say the whole thing again, Hello ... MERRICK (haltingly) Hello... my name is... John Merrick. DISSOLVE TO HALLWAY Mrs. Mothershead comes out of the kitchen with a supper tray and walks down the hall, passing the open ward door. We see nurses serving patients their supper. Nora comes out of the ward with a tray which she holds tightly against her. A bowl of soup is spilling on her apron. She catches up with Mothershead. They speak as they walk. NORA Oh, Mrs. Mothershead, please forgive my behavior yesterday. I'm sorry if you're having to do extra work on my account. It was just seeing it... MOTHERSHEAD Patients here are not "its". They are either "he's" or "she's", but that's alright, Ireland. This one's going to be more work for all of us. Good God girl! Mind your broth. Mothershead continues on. Nora guiltily watches her go. ISOLATION WARD Treves and Merrick are absorbed in their work. A knock comes at the door. TREVES Come in. Mothershead enters. TREVES Why, my dear Mrs. Mothershead, how good of you to join us. Mr. Merrick, will you please introduce yourself? MERRICK (hesitantly) Hello, my name is John Merrick. MOTHERSHEAD Good Lord, Mr. Treves! TREVES (exuberantly) We've made tremendous strides today, Mothershead. He listens and repeats with great attention, and this certainly isn't easy for him. MOTHERSHEAD Parrots can do as much, Mr. Treves. It's all very nice, but I don't see the point. You know they won't let him stay here. TREVES (lowering his voice) I'm sure that if Mr. Merrick made a good impression on the hospital committee they'd see that he's the exception to their rule. Now I'm not expecting miracles. I'm not saying he'll be able to read or write, but I do think that I can get him to speak for himself. I'm going to arrange things with Carr Gomm right now. (to Merrick) That was very good, John, very good. That's all for today. We shall do some more tomorrow. Mothershead? Mrs. Mothershead sets the tray down beside Merrick. TREVES I'll see you soon. He and Mothershead exit. Merrick watches the door close. He sighs quietly, looks about, and sees the Bible on the bedside table. He picks it up and, gently runs his fingers over the cover. RECEIVING ROOM - THE LONDON There is total pandemonium in the receiving room. The room is filled with screaming men, women and children. Two drunken women have been fighting with broken bottles and are now covered with blood and cuts. The women are still hysterical, one minute they're sobbing, then in an instant screaming and intent upon fighting again. The crowd keeps them apart. Two Bobbies stand in the background making no move to intercede. To the side we see Bytes watching everything. It is still too violent a scene for the Nurses to come to the women's aide and they stand up in the front of the room waiting. Bytes makes his way along the side of the crowd waiting for a chance to get behind the Nurses and on into the hospital. Now the women begin sobbing again and things quiet some. The Nurses come forward into the crowd. Bytes moves over closer to the hallways. When the Nurses have all gone into the crowd he seizes the chance and disappears into the hospital. CUT TO: Bytes appears and walks down hospital hallway looking about. CARR GOMM'S OFFICE The door opens and Treves enters. CARR (V.O.) Ah, Treves... Treves sits in the armchair. Carr Gomm is sitting at his desk. CARR Have you contacted the British Home and the Royal Hospital? TREVES Ah, no sir. I had planned to see them in the morning. CARR Good! How is the patient? TREVES He's doing very well. In fact that's why I came to see you. I think that if I were to present Mr. Merrick to the hospital committee, then they would have a chance to see for themselves not only the extraordinary nature of the disease, but of the man as well. If the committee had a chance to speak with him, hear him say a few words for himself, I'm sure they would see him as a patient, rather than as a violation of the rules. CARR A few words? I thought he was imbecile? TREVES Well sir, perhaps I should explain... CARR I really don't think that's necessary Treves. I'm quite sure the committee will be able to make an equitable decision on the merits of the case, such as they are. TREVES I don't agree. No one can make a reasonable decision about this man's future without at least meeting him. No doctor would presume to diagnose a patient he had never met. CARR No, Treves, it's out of the question. Now if it was up to me, I'd say "Certainly, let's meet the fellow, by all means," I'm sorry, I simply can't speak for the other members of the committee. TREVES Then will you meet him, as a representative of the committee. CARR Mr. Treves, it's out of the question. I want to hear as soon as possible what the other hospitals can do. I'm sorry. HALLWAY - STAIRCASE - THE LONDON We see Treves leave Carr Gomm's office and walk toward us to the stairwell. As Treves begins down the stairs, he sees Bytes on the next landing coming up. Bytes spots him and goes toward him. BYTES I want my man back. TREVES Just a moment, how did you get in here? BYTES Never mind that, I want my man! TREVES He's still very sick. Please come downstairs with me. I'll explain the situation. BYTES (shouting) DON'T... Don't muck me about. You've had plenty of time to fix him up, and he's leaving with me, NOW. Do you understand me? Now, Mr. Treves. We had a bargain! TREVES You misunderstood. This man suffered a severe fall, if you take my meaning. He's my patient now and I must do what... BYTES Pull the other one, why don't you! We made a deal! TREVES I know what you've done to him and he's never going back to that. BYTES He's a freak! That's how they live. We're partners, him and I, business partners. You're willfully deprivin' me of my livlihood! TREVES All you do is profit from another man's misery! BYTES You think you're better 'n me? YOU wanted the freak to show all your doctor chums and make a name for yourself, you guv. So I gave him to you. On trust, in the name of science! And now I want him back. TREVES You don't own this man! BYTES I want him back! TREVES So you can beat him? So you can starve him? A dog in the street would fare better with you! BYTES I've got my rights, damn you, and I'm going to the authorities! CARR (V.O.) Well, go to the authorities... Now we see Carr Gomm standing above them, at the top of the stairs. CARR By all means do so. In fact, I'll fetch them myself. I'm quite sure they'd be very interested in your story, as well as ours. Livid, Bytes looks from Carr Gomm to Treves, at a loss for words. TREVES Now I think we really do understand one another. BYTES (venomously) Right... Right. He backs slowly down to the landing eyeing Treves and Carr Gomm. At the landing he casually turns and disappears down more stairs. Treves turns and gazes at Carr Gomm. CARR Singularly unpleasant chap... uh... I don't suppose there would be any harm in my meeting your... patient, Mr. Treves. TREVES (gratefully) Thank you very much Sir. Shall we say in a few days then? CARR Shall we say two o'clock tomorrow afternoon? TREVES (slightly taken aback) Wh... whatever is most convenient for you, sir. CARR Two o'clock then... you know Treves... It seems this acquaintance of yours has become rather more than just an acquaintance. TREVES ...Yes, Sir. They part company. We follow Treves down the stairs. TREVES (muttering) Two o'clock? Then we follow Carr Gomm to his office door. He stops short. CARR (mumbling out loud) Elephant Man? I don't want to meet an Elephant Man. HALLWAYS - THE LONDON (NIGHT) Again, the hospital is closing down for the night. Lights go off in each hallway. The staff is vacating the hospital. As the last light goes off, we hear the great iron door slam shut. TREVES' HOUSE - BEDROOM (NIGHT) Anne is at her dressing table, brushing out her hair. She is in a very flattering dressing gown, ready to turn in. We see her reflected in the mirror as well as Treves who is in his robe in the background seated at his side of their bed, deep in thought. Anne looks at Treves and smiles affectionately. ANNE (coyly) Freddie? Getting no response she renews her efforts. ANNE Freddie?... Freddie, don't look so discouraged. TREVES I shouldn't be. We made great progress today. I taught him to repeat a few basic phrases. He did rather well, too, but I had to lead him every step of the way. Though frankly, at times I was unsure of who was leading whom. ANNE What do you mean? TREVES Well, I wasn't sure whether he was parroting me because that's all he was capable of, or whether he sensed that that's all I wanted to hear, and he was trying to please me. ANNE But I thought you said that he was rather... simple? TREVES He is. I mean, I've always thought he was. I think he must be. Is he simple? Or is that just something I've wished upon him to make things simpler for myself? Anne puts down the brush and rises. ANNE Frederick, why are you so interested in this particular case? TREVES I don't know. I can't explain it. If this is an intelligent man, trapped in the body of a monster, then I'm under a moral obligation to help free that mind, free that spirit as best I can, to help him live as full and content a life as possible. But! If he's an imbecile, who's body I can't treat and who's mind I can't touch, well, then my obligation is discharged. They can put him where they will; he won't be bothered, I won't be bothered, and everyone's conscience can remain free and untroubled. And that is my dilemma... what is in his mind? Anne, sympathizing with his concerns goes to him and puts her arms around him. ANNE Perhaps you're just polishing a stone, endowing this Elephant Man with qualities he doesn't possess? TREVES (impatiently) And what qualities are those? Intelligence or stupidity? ANNE (slightly hurt) I'm sure I don't know, Freddie. She releases Treves and lies down. Treves realizes that perhaps he has been unkind. TREVES I'm sorry... I don't know either. I just don't know. ANNE Well, these things take time. TREVES I've only got until two o'clock tomorrow afternoon, when Carr Gomm meets him. Somehow, between now and then I've got to make John Merrick at least seem like an intelligent man... Why am I fooling myself? Nothing short of John delivering the Sermon on the Mount is going to sway Carr Gomm... Anne sits back up and gently places her hand over Treves' mouth. As she does so she leans forward and turns out the light. ISOLATION WARD Merrick is propped up in bed. Suddenly the door bursts open. The Night Porter, an arm around a drunken giggling tart, stands in the doorway. As soon as the Charwoman sees Merrick, she screams as does Merrick, and she wriggles free, making for the stairs. The Night Porter watches her go and then turns to Merrick laughing noisily. He then pulls the door shut with a bang. Merrick, very frightened, crawls down into his hiding place. BEDROOM (MORNING) We see Anne alone in bed, asleep. Treves is finished dressing and leaves the room. The sound of the door closing awakens Anne. She looks around for Treves. A clock reads 5:30. ISOLATION WARD Merrick's disguise hangs on the wall. MERRICK (V.O.) The Lord is my shepherd, I shall not want, he maketh me to lie down in green pastures; He leadeth me beside still waters. He restoreth my soul: He Guideth me in the paths of righteousness... TREVES Righteousness... MERRICK (V.O.) Righteousness for his namesake. WE NOW SEE TREVES AND MERRICK TREVES Very good, very good. Now, when your visitor comes today I want you to say it exactly the way you said it just now. I will introduce him to you and you will say the words you've learned. If you have any trouble with any of the words, I'll help you. I'm sure you'll be just fine. If you do as well for him as you've done for me these last two days, then I'm sure our visitor will be very pleased. Now, let's go through the whole thing again, shall we? I will say "May I introduce you to Mr. Carr Gomm." And you will say... MERRICK Hello, my name is John Merrick. I am very pleased to meet you! HALLWAY Treves and Carr Gomm are speaking together as they walk along. TREVES It's only a physical problem. He has trouble with certain sounds because of the constrictive deformity of the mouth. But he can talk, and has a great eagerness to make contact with people who will let him. So if you have any difficulty understanding what he is saying, just tell me and I'll make it clear. CARR Speaking is one thing, Treves, but can the man comprehend? Treves cannot easily answer this question. TREVES ...As I said, it's only a physical problem... but I do feel that Mr. Merrick is very flattered that you're taking the time and trouble to meet him, and he's most anxious to make a good impression, so he might seem rather nervous. CARR He needn't. I have no desire to cause him any discomfort. Did you make those inquiries we spoke about? TREVES Yes, I spoke to both the British Home and Royal Hospital for Incurables. I'm afraid that they weren't very encouraging, but they said they'd bring it up at their next committee meeting, so we should have their answers shortly. CARR Fine, fine. You know, your dedication to this patient is an inspiring thing, Treves. But you must remember that this is a hospital, and there are many patients here. Patients who can be made well, and you owe them your first consideration. Just don't become so obsessed, old man, that you begin to neglect them. Carr Gomm starts up the stairs. Treves remains behind, watching him for a moment, then follows. ISOLATION WARD Merrick is standing beside his disguise on its hook. He nervously smooths the cloak down, repositions the Bible on the bedside table and smooths the cloak again. He looks at the door, expecting it to open. It doesn't. His hands smooths the cloak over and over again. Voices can be heard outside the door. Merrick freezes. There are two raps at the door. Merrick flinches, clutching the cloak. The raps are repeated. He pulls himself together and walks to the middle of the room. He takes a deep breath and closes his eyes. MERRICK Come in. The door opens and Treves and Carr Gomm enter. Carr Gomm's eyes are rivited on Merrick, but he contains his shock. Merrick is breathing unevenly, his eyes still closed. Treves goes to him and touches his shoulder. Merrick opens his eyes and looks up at Treves. Treves turns to Carr Gomm, as does Merrick. Carr Gomm lowers his eyes. TREVES John, may I introduce you to Sir Carr Gomm. MERRICK Hello... my name is John Merrick. I am very pleased to meet you. Carr Gomm, still shaken, instinctively offers his hand. CARR I'm very... pleased to meet you. Before Carr Gomm can withdraw his hand, Merrick grasps it with his left hand. There is an uncomfortable silence. Merrick releases it. Carr Gomn, nervously clears his throat. CARR How are you feeling today? MERRICK I feel much better. Thank you for asking. And you? CARR I'm feeling very fit, thank you. How is your bronchitis? MERRICK I feel much better. Thank you. CARR Are you comfortable here? MERRICK Everyone has been very kind. I am extremely grateful. TREVES Mr. Merrick likes the food here. Don't you John? MERRICK Oh yes! It is much better than what I am used to. CARR Oh yes? TREVES (after a pause) And what was that, John? MERRICK Potatoes... There is another agonizing silence. TREVES (to Carr Gomm) ...Yes potatoes... but... MERRICK But the variety of food here is very pleasing... I commend you. CARR (after a pause) I understand that you were beaten? Merrick is at a loss. This is not part of the expected scenario. DIERRICK Oh no, everyone has been very kind. CARR No, I meant in your former situation. Merrick doesn't seem to understand. MERRICK I'm feeling much better now... Carr Gomm stares levelly at Treves for a moment, then asks Merrick: CARR Tell me, how do you like Mr. Treves? As a teacher? Treves stiffens. MERRICK ...I... everyone has been very kind to me. CARR Of course. How long did you and Mr. Treves prepare for this interview? Merrick looks at Treves for guidance, but Treves cannot look him in the eye. MERRICK ...everyone has been very kind. CARR Yes, of course... Well, it's been a pleasure meeting you, Mr. Merrick. Good day. TREVES (to John) Thank you, John. You did very well. Treves and Carr Gomm go out the door onto the landing. Merrick sees his chance escaping him and tries to recapture their attention. MERRICK (his voice is gaining strength) The Lord is my shepherd, I shall not want. He maketh me to lie down in green pastures... (he continues through the following dialogue) Treves and Carr Gomm are alone on the landing, speaking quietly. CARR It was a nice try, Treves, but the man is so obviously mouthing your words. TREVES Yes, I'm very sorry to have wasted your time, sir. I just felt that I had to do anything I could to protect him. CARR I'm sorry too. He simply doesn't belong here. He's be much happier somewhere else, where he could be constantly looked after. Believe me, Frederick, it's better that it worked out this way. Good day. Merrick has come to the end of what Treves taught him to say. He makes one last, desperate attempt to be heard. Treves, disheartened, stands on the landing as Carr Gomm starts down the stairs. MERRICK (V.O.) (now full voice) Yea, though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I will fear no evil, for Thou art with me; Thy rod and Thy staff, they comfort me... Treves is staring, open-mouthed, back into the room. Carr Gomm looks up at him. CARR What is it, Treves? MERRICK (V.O.) Thou preparest a table before me in the presence of mine enemies, Thou anointest my head with oil... TREVES I didn't teach him that part! Treves rushes back into the room, followed by Carr Gomm. MERRICK My cup runneth over. Surely goodness and loving kindness shall follow me all the days of my life, and I shall dwell in the house of the Lord forever. There is a long silence as all three men stare at each other. TREVES How did you, know the rest? I never taught you the rest of it. CARR I don't understand. TREVES Tell me, John, how did you know the rest of the 23rd Psalm? MERRICK (hesitantly) I... I used to read the Bible every day. I know it very well. The Bible, and the Book of Common Prayer. The 23rd Psalm is very beautiful. ISOLATION WARD A few minutes later. We hear voices inside the room. CARR (V.O.) It was a great pleasure to meet you, Mr. Merrick. MERRICK I am very pleased to meet you. CARR I hope we can talk together again sometime. Good day. The door opens and Carr Gomm and Treves come out. TREVES (to Merrick) I'll be right back. He closes the door. CARR I want to see you in my office as soon as you're through up here. We've a good deal to discuss. He starts down the stairs. TREVES Of course, sir. Thank you, thank you very much. Carr Gomm stops on the stairs. CARR Treves. Well done. TREVES Not me, sir. Mr. Merrick. He succeeded in spite of my shortsightedness. ISOLATION WARD Merrick is on the bed, propped up by pillows. The door opens. Treves comes in, shuts the door and leans against it. They look at each other for a moment. TREVES Why did you let me go on like that, teaching you what you already knew? Why didn't you tell me you could read? MERRICK You did not ask me. TREVES I never thought to ask. How can you ever forgive me? MERRICK Oh, no do not say that. You have been so kind to me. I was afraid to say too much. People always want me to be quiet. You wanted me to speak, but I was afraid. Forgive me. TREVES We do have a lot to talk about, don't we? CARR GOMM'S OFFICE Carr Gomm is seated at the window, looking out silently. There is a knock at the door and Treves enters. He quietly closes the door and walks to the window. Carr Gomm never moves. CARR Can you imagine what his life has been like? TREVES Yes, I think I can. CARR No you can't. You can't begin to know, no one can. Carr Gomm suddenly stands and faces Treves. CARR You are quite right, Treves, this is an exceptional case. And I quite agree that the committee should see Mr. Merrick. TREVES I could easily arrange... CARR No, not that way. Broadneck and the others don't like to deal with patients directly. It makes them queasy... Do you have any photographs of Mr. Merrick? TREVES Well, yes. CARR Excellent. We shall present them, along with the other particulars of the case to the committee. I want them to see, exactly, how horribly his body has been affected. You and I shall vouch for his inner qualities. TREVES Do you think they'll go along with us? CARR Of course they will. They're reasonable men. ISOLATION WARD Merrick is in bed, very tired. It's been an exhausting day. Suddenly the door opens and Mothershead comes into the room. Merrick looks up at her very apprehensively. She walks over to the bed, picks up the Bible from the table, opens it and hands it to Merrick. MOTHERSHEAD Read it. Merrick looks down at the Bible. MERRICK Thou heardest my voice; hide not thine ear at my breathing, At my cry. Mothershead backs slowly to the door, deeply disturbed. She stares at Merrick for a moment. MOTHERSHEAD Credit where credit is due. You'll have the paper every morning at breakfast. She quickly turns and exits. Merrick looks down at the Bible. It is open to "Lamentations". HALLWAY - THE LONDON (NIGHT) As before the lights are going off in one hallway after another. The hallways are empty, dark and silent. We hear the great iron door close with a bang. ISOLATION WARD (NIGHT) Merrick is in his bed as always. He holds the portrait of the beautiful woman, gazing at it longingly. He hears a door close far away in the silence of the hospital. Suddenly we hear the heavy footfalls of the Night Porter's boots. As they get louder and louder we move slowly closer to Merrick's face. The sound is very close now, and Merrick's eyes are visibly agitated. Finally, the door bursts open and the Night Porter is standing there. He stares malevolently at Merrick for a long moment and then walks to him menacingly. NIGHT PORTER I hear you have some trouble sleepin'... He grabs Merrick fiercely by the hair and jerks his head back. Merrick immediately starts to wheeze and gasp. NIGHT PORTER Head's too heavy, eh? He pulls Merrick all the way down onto the bed, so that he is prone, struggling for breath. NIGHT PORTER And I heard a nasty rumor about you; I heard you can talk but you can't, can you... can you... can you?... MERRICK (struggling) Noooo! The Night Porter is as first surprised, and then pleased at the desperate sound. NIGHT PORTER No... No you can't! One word about me out of that stinking cakehole... Just ONE word, and you'll have no trouble at sleepin'... no trouble at all. You understand me? Do you!! MERRICK (croaking) Yyyesss. Satisfied, the Night Porter rights Merrick who is just able to catch his breath. The Night Porter smiles and pats Merrick on the shoulder. NIGHT PORTER There now, that's better, i'n' it? HALLWAY Treves and Carr Gomm are on their way to the committee meeting, confident of their position. Treves is holding a folder, and Carr Gomm is looking at the photographs of Merrick. CARR As far as I can see, the only obstacle might be Broadneck. He has enormous influence over the others, very old school, not an easy man to impress. In any case, if worse does come to worse, we still have the British and Royal Homes to fall back on, don't we. Treves is silent. They stop. CARR Don't we? TREVES No, we don't. Their committees have informed me that they're unwilling to take Mr. Merrick, even if they were supplied with funds. They don't want

scene

How many times the word 'scene' appears in the text?

you? He puts the bowl down again and goes back to Merrick, who seems very upset at leaving his hiding place. TREVES Now please, John, you must do as I say. Come up from there. He starts to help Merrick up, but Merrick just presses himself farther back in the corner, still babbling. There are two raps at the door. Treves goes to it and lets Mothershead in. MOTHERSHEAD Good morning, Mr. Treves. It'll be his bath-time soon. Has he eaten? TREVES Not quite yet, Mrs. Mothershead. There seems to be some difficulty this morning. They both look at the bed. Merrick has almost disappeared under it. MOTHERSHEAD Won't come out, eh? TREVES No, he's very upset about something. MOTHERSHEAD Just being obstinate, sir. I'll handle it. She goes to Merrick and takes hold of his left wrist. MOTHERSHEAD Alright, my son, none of this fuss. Come up from there, this instant. She starts to force him up from the floor. Merrick is moaning now, still trying to get away. TREVES No! Don't pull at him like that. We don't want to frighten him more than he already is. By this time Mothershead has almost got him back on the bed. MOTHERSHEAD Honestly, sir, you must be very firm with this sort. Otherwise they'd lay about on the floor gibbering all day long. All he understands is a good smack. They help Merrick settle back on the pillow. Merrick is still making desperate, unintelligible sounds. TREVES He's had his share of "smacks", Mothershead. I expect that's what drives him under the bed. We must use patience and understanding with this man. MOTHERSHEAD Perhaps you've got the time for that, Mr. Treves, I certainly don't. I've got an entire hospital to look after, and you have your real patients. Don't waste your time with him sir, it's like talking to a wall. I don't mean to be harsh, but truthfully what can you do for him? I'll be back later for his bath. And Mr. Carr Gomm would like to see you when you have a moment. Good day sir. She exits. Treves shuts the door behind her and turns back to the bed. TREVES (to himself) What good am I to you...? He goes to the bed and sits down in front of Merrick, angered by his own seeming uselessness in the situation. TREVES ...What is my purpose? ...It's so important that I understand you. I want to help you, I want to be your doctor... (directly to Merrick) but I can't help you unless you help me, unless I know what you are feeling. I believe there's something back there, there's something you want to say, but I've got to understand you. Do you understand me? Merrick hesitates, then starts babbling again. TREVES No! You are going to talk to me! We are going to show them! We're going to show them that you're not a wall. We are going to talk! Do you understand? Nod your head if you understand me! Slowly Merrick nods yes. TREVES You do understand me! You understand. Now you're going to say it. I've got to hear how you say things. Now, very slowly, say "yes." Treves carefully mouths the word. TREVES "Yes." Merrick is still hesitant, from years of fear, but his eyes betray a growing excitement. Slowly, he tries to talk, his voice a tremulous whisper. MERRICK Yyyy... Yyye... yyyess. TREVES (grabbing Merrick's arm) Yes John! Throughout their dialogue, Merrick is still very garbled, but he no longer babbles. He makes a great effort to speak slowly, to form words the way Treves forms them, to be understood. MERRICK ...Yyes TREVES Yyyess. MERRICK Yyess. TREVES That's much better. I could understand that "yes". MERRICK (pleased) Yes! TREVES Very good! Oh yes! Now listen. I'm going to say some things to you and I want you to repeat them... um... I want you to say them back to me. Do you understand? I'm going to say some things to you and I want you to say them back to me. Do you understand? MERRICK Yes. TREVES Excellent! Now, say... "Hello" MERRICK Hello... TREVES My name is... MERRICK My... name is... TREVES John Merrick. MERRICK John... Merrick TREVES Say "Merrick". MERRICK Merrick... TREVES Say "Mmmerrick." MERRICK Mmmerrick. TREVES Say "Mmmerrick." MERRICK Mmmerrick. TREVES Well, that's alright. I understand you. Now, say the whole thing again, Hello ... MERRICK (haltingly) Hello... my name is... John Merrick. DISSOLVE TO HALLWAY Mrs. Mothershead comes out of the kitchen with a supper tray and walks down the hall, passing the open ward door. We see nurses serving patients their supper. Nora comes out of the ward with a tray which she holds tightly against her. A bowl of soup is spilling on her apron. She catches up with Mothershead. They speak as they walk. NORA Oh, Mrs. Mothershead, please forgive my behavior yesterday. I'm sorry if you're having to do extra work on my account. It was just seeing it... MOTHERSHEAD Patients here are not "its". They are either "he's" or "she's", but that's alright, Ireland. This one's going to be more work for all of us. Good God girl! Mind your broth. Mothershead continues on. Nora guiltily watches her go. ISOLATION WARD Treves and Merrick are absorbed in their work. A knock comes at the door. TREVES Come in. Mothershead enters. TREVES Why, my dear Mrs. Mothershead, how good of you to join us. Mr. Merrick, will you please introduce yourself? MERRICK (hesitantly) Hello, my name is John Merrick. MOTHERSHEAD Good Lord, Mr. Treves! TREVES (exuberantly) We've made tremendous strides today, Mothershead. He listens and repeats with great attention, and this certainly isn't easy for him. MOTHERSHEAD Parrots can do as much, Mr. Treves. It's all very nice, but I don't see the point. You know they won't let him stay here. TREVES (lowering his voice) I'm sure that if Mr. Merrick made a good impression on the hospital committee they'd see that he's the exception to their rule. Now I'm not expecting miracles. I'm not saying he'll be able to read or write, but I do think that I can get him to speak for himself. I'm going to arrange things with Carr Gomm right now. (to Merrick) That was very good, John, very good. That's all for today. We shall do some more tomorrow. Mothershead? Mrs. Mothershead sets the tray down beside Merrick. TREVES I'll see you soon. He and Mothershead exit. Merrick watches the door close. He sighs quietly, looks about, and sees the Bible on the bedside table. He picks it up and, gently runs his fingers over the cover. RECEIVING ROOM - THE LONDON There is total pandemonium in the receiving room. The room is filled with screaming men, women and children. Two drunken women have been fighting with broken bottles and are now covered with blood and cuts. The women are still hysterical, one minute they're sobbing, then in an instant screaming and intent upon fighting again. The crowd keeps them apart. Two Bobbies stand in the background making no move to intercede. To the side we see Bytes watching everything. It is still too violent a scene for the Nurses to come to the women's aide and they stand up in the front of the room waiting. Bytes makes his way along the side of the crowd waiting for a chance to get behind the Nurses and on into the hospital. Now the women begin sobbing again and things quiet some. The Nurses come forward into the crowd. Bytes moves over closer to the hallways. When the Nurses have all gone into the crowd he seizes the chance and disappears into the hospital. CUT TO: Bytes appears and walks down hospital hallway looking about. CARR GOMM'S OFFICE The door opens and Treves enters. CARR (V.O.) Ah, Treves... Treves sits in the armchair. Carr Gomm is sitting at his desk. CARR Have you contacted the British Home and the Royal Hospital? TREVES Ah, no sir. I had planned to see them in the morning. CARR Good! How is the patient? TREVES He's doing very well. In fact that's why I came to see you. I think that if I were to present Mr. Merrick to the hospital committee, then they would have a chance to see for themselves not only the extraordinary nature of the disease, but of the man as well. If the committee had a chance to speak with him, hear him say a few words for himself, I'm sure they would see him as a patient, rather than as a violation of the rules. CARR A few words? I thought he was imbecile? TREVES Well sir, perhaps I should explain... CARR I really don't think that's necessary Treves. I'm quite sure the committee will be able to make an equitable decision on the merits of the case, such as they are. TREVES I don't agree. No one can make a reasonable decision about this man's future without at least meeting him. No doctor would presume to diagnose a patient he had never met. CARR No, Treves, it's out of the question. Now if it was up to me, I'd say "Certainly, let's meet the fellow, by all means," I'm sorry, I simply can't speak for the other members of the committee. TREVES Then will you meet him, as a representative of the committee. CARR Mr. Treves, it's out of the question. I want to hear as soon as possible what the other hospitals can do. I'm sorry. HALLWAY - STAIRCASE - THE LONDON We see Treves leave Carr Gomm's office and walk toward us to the stairwell. As Treves begins down the stairs, he sees Bytes on the next landing coming up. Bytes spots him and goes toward him. BYTES I want my man back. TREVES Just a moment, how did you get in here? BYTES Never mind that, I want my man! TREVES He's still very sick. Please come downstairs with me. I'll explain the situation. BYTES (shouting) DON'T... Don't muck me about. You've had plenty of time to fix him up, and he's leaving with me, NOW. Do you understand me? Now, Mr. Treves. We had a bargain! TREVES You misunderstood. This man suffered a severe fall, if you take my meaning. He's my patient now and I must do what... BYTES Pull the other one, why don't you! We made a deal! TREVES I know what you've done to him and he's never going back to that. BYTES He's a freak! That's how they live. We're partners, him and I, business partners. You're willfully deprivin' me of my livlihood! TREVES All you do is profit from another man's misery! BYTES You think you're better 'n me? YOU wanted the freak to show all your doctor chums and make a name for yourself, you guv. So I gave him to you. On trust, in the name of science! And now I want him back. TREVES You don't own this man! BYTES I want him back! TREVES So you can beat him? So you can starve him? A dog in the street would fare better with you! BYTES I've got my rights, damn you, and I'm going to the authorities! CARR (V.O.) Well, go to the authorities... Now we see Carr Gomm standing above them, at the top of the stairs. CARR By all means do so. In fact, I'll fetch them myself. I'm quite sure they'd be very interested in your story, as well as ours. Livid, Bytes looks from Carr Gomm to Treves, at a loss for words. TREVES Now I think we really do understand one another. BYTES (venomously) Right... Right. He backs slowly down to the landing eyeing Treves and Carr Gomm. At the landing he casually turns and disappears down more stairs. Treves turns and gazes at Carr Gomm. CARR Singularly unpleasant chap... uh... I don't suppose there would be any harm in my meeting your... patient, Mr. Treves. TREVES (gratefully) Thank you very much Sir. Shall we say in a few days then? CARR Shall we say two o'clock tomorrow afternoon? TREVES (slightly taken aback) Wh... whatever is most convenient for you, sir. CARR Two o'clock then... you know Treves... It seems this acquaintance of yours has become rather more than just an acquaintance. TREVES ...Yes, Sir. They part company. We follow Treves down the stairs. TREVES (muttering) Two o'clock? Then we follow Carr Gomm to his office door. He stops short. CARR (mumbling out loud) Elephant Man? I don't want to meet an Elephant Man. HALLWAYS - THE LONDON (NIGHT) Again, the hospital is closing down for the night. Lights go off in each hallway. The staff is vacating the hospital. As the last light goes off, we hear the great iron door slam shut. TREVES' HOUSE - BEDROOM (NIGHT) Anne is at her dressing table, brushing out her hair. She is in a very flattering dressing gown, ready to turn in. We see her reflected in the mirror as well as Treves who is in his robe in the background seated at his side of their bed, deep in thought. Anne looks at Treves and smiles affectionately. ANNE (coyly) Freddie? Getting no response she renews her efforts. ANNE Freddie?... Freddie, don't look so discouraged. TREVES I shouldn't be. We made great progress today. I taught him to repeat a few basic phrases. He did rather well, too, but I had to lead him every step of the way. Though frankly, at times I was unsure of who was leading whom. ANNE What do you mean? TREVES Well, I wasn't sure whether he was parroting me because that's all he was capable of, or whether he sensed that that's all I wanted to hear, and he was trying to please me. ANNE But I thought you said that he was rather... simple? TREVES He is. I mean, I've always thought he was. I think he must be. Is he simple? Or is that just something I've wished upon him to make things simpler for myself? Anne puts down the brush and rises. ANNE Frederick, why are you so interested in this particular case? TREVES I don't know. I can't explain it. If this is an intelligent man, trapped in the body of a monster, then I'm under a moral obligation to help free that mind, free that spirit as best I can, to help him live as full and content a life as possible. But! If he's an imbecile, who's body I can't treat and who's mind I can't touch, well, then my obligation is discharged. They can put him where they will; he won't be bothered, I won't be bothered, and everyone's conscience can remain free and untroubled. And that is my dilemma... what is in his mind? Anne, sympathizing with his concerns goes to him and puts her arms around him. ANNE Perhaps you're just polishing a stone, endowing this Elephant Man with qualities he doesn't possess? TREVES (impatiently) And what qualities are those? Intelligence or stupidity? ANNE (slightly hurt) I'm sure I don't know, Freddie. She releases Treves and lies down. Treves realizes that perhaps he has been unkind. TREVES I'm sorry... I don't know either. I just don't know. ANNE Well, these things take time. TREVES I've only got until two o'clock tomorrow afternoon, when Carr Gomm meets him. Somehow, between now and then I've got to make John Merrick at least seem like an intelligent man... Why am I fooling myself? Nothing short of John delivering the Sermon on the Mount is going to sway Carr Gomm... Anne sits back up and gently places her hand over Treves' mouth. As she does so she leans forward and turns out the light. ISOLATION WARD Merrick is propped up in bed. Suddenly the door bursts open. The Night Porter, an arm around a drunken giggling tart, stands in the doorway. As soon as the Charwoman sees Merrick, she screams as does Merrick, and she wriggles free, making for the stairs. The Night Porter watches her go and then turns to Merrick laughing noisily. He then pulls the door shut with a bang. Merrick, very frightened, crawls down into his hiding place. BEDROOM (MORNING) We see Anne alone in bed, asleep. Treves is finished dressing and leaves the room. The sound of the door closing awakens Anne. She looks around for Treves. A clock reads 5:30. ISOLATION WARD Merrick's disguise hangs on the wall. MERRICK (V.O.) The Lord is my shepherd, I shall not want, he maketh me to lie down in green pastures; He leadeth me beside still waters. He restoreth my soul: He Guideth me in the paths of righteousness... TREVES Righteousness... MERRICK (V.O.) Righteousness for his namesake. WE NOW SEE TREVES AND MERRICK TREVES Very good, very good. Now, when your visitor comes today I want you to say it exactly the way you said it just now. I will introduce him to you and you will say the words you've learned. If you have any trouble with any of the words, I'll help you. I'm sure you'll be just fine. If you do as well for him as you've done for me these last two days, then I'm sure our visitor will be very pleased. Now, let's go through the whole thing again, shall we? I will say "May I introduce you to Mr. Carr Gomm." And you will say... MERRICK Hello, my name is John Merrick. I am very pleased to meet you! HALLWAY Treves and Carr Gomm are speaking together as they walk along. TREVES It's only a physical problem. He has trouble with certain sounds because of the constrictive deformity of the mouth. But he can talk, and has a great eagerness to make contact with people who will let him. So if you have any difficulty understanding what he is saying, just tell me and I'll make it clear. CARR Speaking is one thing, Treves, but can the man comprehend? Treves cannot easily answer this question. TREVES ...As I said, it's only a physical problem... but I do feel that Mr. Merrick is very flattered that you're taking the time and trouble to meet him, and he's most anxious to make a good impression, so he might seem rather nervous. CARR He needn't. I have no desire to cause him any discomfort. Did you make those inquiries we spoke about? TREVES Yes, I spoke to both the British Home and Royal Hospital for Incurables. I'm afraid that they weren't very encouraging, but they said they'd bring it up at their next committee meeting, so we should have their answers shortly. CARR Fine, fine. You know, your dedication to this patient is an inspiring thing, Treves. But you must remember that this is a hospital, and there are many patients here. Patients who can be made well, and you owe them your first consideration. Just don't become so obsessed, old man, that you begin to neglect them. Carr Gomm starts up the stairs. Treves remains behind, watching him for a moment, then follows. ISOLATION WARD Merrick is standing beside his disguise on its hook. He nervously smooths the cloak down, repositions the Bible on the bedside table and smooths the cloak again. He looks at the door, expecting it to open. It doesn't. His hands smooths the cloak over and over again. Voices can be heard outside the door. Merrick freezes. There are two raps at the door. Merrick flinches, clutching the cloak. The raps are repeated. He pulls himself together and walks to the middle of the room. He takes a deep breath and closes his eyes. MERRICK Come in. The door opens and Treves and Carr Gomm enter. Carr Gomm's eyes are rivited on Merrick, but he contains his shock. Merrick is breathing unevenly, his eyes still closed. Treves goes to him and touches his shoulder. Merrick opens his eyes and looks up at Treves. Treves turns to Carr Gomm, as does Merrick. Carr Gomm lowers his eyes. TREVES John, may I introduce you to Sir Carr Gomm. MERRICK Hello... my name is John Merrick. I am very pleased to meet you. Carr Gomm, still shaken, instinctively offers his hand. CARR I'm very... pleased to meet you. Before Carr Gomm can withdraw his hand, Merrick grasps it with his left hand. There is an uncomfortable silence. Merrick releases it. Carr Gomn, nervously clears his throat. CARR How are you feeling today? MERRICK I feel much better. Thank you for asking. And you? CARR I'm feeling very fit, thank you. How is your bronchitis? MERRICK I feel much better. Thank you. CARR Are you comfortable here? MERRICK Everyone has been very kind. I am extremely grateful. TREVES Mr. Merrick likes the food here. Don't you John? MERRICK Oh yes! It is much better than what I am used to. CARR Oh yes? TREVES (after a pause) And what was that, John? MERRICK Potatoes... There is another agonizing silence. TREVES (to Carr Gomm) ...Yes potatoes... but... MERRICK But the variety of food here is very pleasing... I commend you. CARR (after a pause) I understand that you were beaten? Merrick is at a loss. This is not part of the expected scenario. DIERRICK Oh no, everyone has been very kind. CARR No, I meant in your former situation. Merrick doesn't seem to understand. MERRICK I'm feeling much better now... Carr Gomm stares levelly at Treves for a moment, then asks Merrick: CARR Tell me, how do you like Mr. Treves? As a teacher? Treves stiffens. MERRICK ...I... everyone has been very kind to me. CARR Of course. How long did you and Mr. Treves prepare for this interview? Merrick looks at Treves for guidance, but Treves cannot look him in the eye. MERRICK ...everyone has been very kind. CARR Yes, of course... Well, it's been a pleasure meeting you, Mr. Merrick. Good day. TREVES (to John) Thank you, John. You did very well. Treves and Carr Gomm go out the door onto the landing. Merrick sees his chance escaping him and tries to recapture their attention. MERRICK (his voice is gaining strength) The Lord is my shepherd, I shall not want. He maketh me to lie down in green pastures... (he continues through the following dialogue) Treves and Carr Gomm are alone on the landing, speaking quietly. CARR It was a nice try, Treves, but the man is so obviously mouthing your words. TREVES Yes, I'm very sorry to have wasted your time, sir. I just felt that I had to do anything I could to protect him. CARR I'm sorry too. He simply doesn't belong here. He's be much happier somewhere else, where he could be constantly looked after. Believe me, Frederick, it's better that it worked out this way. Good day. Merrick has come to the end of what Treves taught him to say. He makes one last, desperate attempt to be heard. Treves, disheartened, stands on the landing as Carr Gomm starts down the stairs. MERRICK (V.O.) (now full voice) Yea, though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I will fear no evil, for Thou art with me; Thy rod and Thy staff, they comfort me... Treves is staring, open-mouthed, back into the room. Carr Gomm looks up at him. CARR What is it, Treves? MERRICK (V.O.) Thou preparest a table before me in the presence of mine enemies, Thou anointest my head with oil... TREVES I didn't teach him that part! Treves rushes back into the room, followed by Carr Gomm. MERRICK My cup runneth over. Surely goodness and loving kindness shall follow me all the days of my life, and I shall dwell in the house of the Lord forever. There is a long silence as all three men stare at each other. TREVES How did you, know the rest? I never taught you the rest of it. CARR I don't understand. TREVES Tell me, John, how did you know the rest of the 23rd Psalm? MERRICK (hesitantly) I... I used to read the Bible every day. I know it very well. The Bible, and the Book of Common Prayer. The 23rd Psalm is very beautiful. ISOLATION WARD A few minutes later. We hear voices inside the room. CARR (V.O.) It was a great pleasure to meet you, Mr. Merrick. MERRICK I am very pleased to meet you. CARR I hope we can talk together again sometime. Good day. The door opens and Carr Gomm and Treves come out. TREVES (to Merrick) I'll be right back. He closes the door. CARR I want to see you in my office as soon as you're through up here. We've a good deal to discuss. He starts down the stairs. TREVES Of course, sir. Thank you, thank you very much. Carr Gomm stops on the stairs. CARR Treves. Well done. TREVES Not me, sir. Mr. Merrick. He succeeded in spite of my shortsightedness. ISOLATION WARD Merrick is on the bed, propped up by pillows. The door opens. Treves comes in, shuts the door and leans against it. They look at each other for a moment. TREVES Why did you let me go on like that, teaching you what you already knew? Why didn't you tell me you could read? MERRICK You did not ask me. TREVES I never thought to ask. How can you ever forgive me? MERRICK Oh, no do not say that. You have been so kind to me. I was afraid to say too much. People always want me to be quiet. You wanted me to speak, but I was afraid. Forgive me. TREVES We do have a lot to talk about, don't we? CARR GOMM'S OFFICE Carr Gomm is seated at the window, looking out silently. There is a knock at the door and Treves enters. He quietly closes the door and walks to the window. Carr Gomm never moves. CARR Can you imagine what his life has been like? TREVES Yes, I think I can. CARR No you can't. You can't begin to know, no one can. Carr Gomm suddenly stands and faces Treves. CARR You are quite right, Treves, this is an exceptional case. And I quite agree that the committee should see Mr. Merrick. TREVES I could easily arrange... CARR No, not that way. Broadneck and the others don't like to deal with patients directly. It makes them queasy... Do you have any photographs of Mr. Merrick? TREVES Well, yes. CARR Excellent. We shall present them, along with the other particulars of the case to the committee. I want them to see, exactly, how horribly his body has been affected. You and I shall vouch for his inner qualities. TREVES Do you think they'll go along with us? CARR Of course they will. They're reasonable men. ISOLATION WARD Merrick is in bed, very tired. It's been an exhausting day. Suddenly the door opens and Mothershead comes into the room. Merrick looks up at her very apprehensively. She walks over to the bed, picks up the Bible from the table, opens it and hands it to Merrick. MOTHERSHEAD Read it. Merrick looks down at the Bible. MERRICK Thou heardest my voice; hide not thine ear at my breathing, At my cry. Mothershead backs slowly to the door, deeply disturbed. She stares at Merrick for a moment. MOTHERSHEAD Credit where credit is due. You'll have the paper every morning at breakfast. She quickly turns and exits. Merrick looks down at the Bible. It is open to "Lamentations". HALLWAY - THE LONDON (NIGHT) As before the lights are going off in one hallway after another. The hallways are empty, dark and silent. We hear the great iron door close with a bang. ISOLATION WARD (NIGHT) Merrick is in his bed as always. He holds the portrait of the beautiful woman, gazing at it longingly. He hears a door close far away in the silence of the hospital. Suddenly we hear the heavy footfalls of the Night Porter's boots. As they get louder and louder we move slowly closer to Merrick's face. The sound is very close now, and Merrick's eyes are visibly agitated. Finally, the door bursts open and the Night Porter is standing there. He stares malevolently at Merrick for a long moment and then walks to him menacingly. NIGHT PORTER I hear you have some trouble sleepin'... He grabs Merrick fiercely by the hair and jerks his head back. Merrick immediately starts to wheeze and gasp. NIGHT PORTER Head's too heavy, eh? He pulls Merrick all the way down onto the bed, so that he is prone, struggling for breath. NIGHT PORTER And I heard a nasty rumor about you; I heard you can talk but you can't, can you... can you... can you?... MERRICK (struggling) Noooo! The Night Porter is as first surprised, and then pleased at the desperate sound. NIGHT PORTER No... No you can't! One word about me out of that stinking cakehole... Just ONE word, and you'll have no trouble at sleepin'... no trouble at all. You understand me? Do you!! MERRICK (croaking) Yyyesss. Satisfied, the Night Porter rights Merrick who is just able to catch his breath. The Night Porter smiles and pats Merrick on the shoulder. NIGHT PORTER There now, that's better, i'n' it? HALLWAY Treves and Carr Gomm are on their way to the committee meeting, confident of their position. Treves is holding a folder, and Carr Gomm is looking at the photographs of Merrick. CARR As far as I can see, the only obstacle might be Broadneck. He has enormous influence over the others, very old school, not an easy man to impress. In any case, if worse does come to worse, we still have the British and Royal Homes to fall back on, don't we. Treves is silent. They stop. CARR Don't we? TREVES No, we don't. Their committees have informed me that they're unwilling to take Mr. Merrick, even if they were supplied with funds. They don't want

rushing

How many times the word 'rushing' appears in the text?

{I'M UGLY} Into this breathing world, scarse half made up, {I'M REALLY UGLY} And that so lamely and unfashionable, That dogs bark at me as I halt by them. {I'M F KIN' BUTT-UGLY, ALRIGHT!?} Why I, in this weak piping time of peace, {BLAH, BLAH, BLAH} Have no delight to pass away the time, {I NEVER GET LAID...} Unless to see my shadow in the sun, And descant on mine own deformity! {BECAUSE I'M UGLY} Rick bows. The crowd bursts into applause. They yell "Bravo" and throw bouquets. Rick takes several curtain calls. The freaks cheer for him. Julie is particularly moved--she and Rick exchange a heavy look, laden with romantic potential. NOTE: We will insert an almost subliminal one-frame shot of the Pepsi logo at this triumphant moment. Kevin, the EES executive from the airport scene, walks into the tent. Rick sees him and gasps with joy. He leaps off the stage, runs up to Kevin and hugs him. Kevin is shocked, of course. Overcome by the moment, Rick regresses to his old self. RICK I'm saved! Haha! You sorry mutants are gonna rot in this hole while I'm sipping mint juleps by the pool! {AS FORTUNE SMILES O'ER MY FATE, SO DESTINY SPURNS YOUR ACCURSE'D PATE} The freaks and the audience gasp at Rick's cruelty. Julie is shocked--Juan gives her an "I told you so" look. Rick sees Julie and catches himself. 49. RICK (TO KEVIN) I mean, um, I hope you have room for all my friends, heh-heh. KEVIN Rick, Rick, listen, I really love this new look you've come up with. But just between you and me, I don't think the guys upstairs would really get it. RICK What are you saying!? KEVIN (CHUCKLES SNIDELY) I'm saying you're ugly enough to burn the nosehairs off a dead nun. The crowd bursts into cruel hysterics, pointing mockingly at Rick. Even Alistair Cooke is practically choking with laughter. ALISTAIR COOKE AH-HA-HA-HA! WHAT A PUTZ! Rick looks around, horrified at the sea of evil, jeering faces. He begins to tremble. Then... RICK'S MONSTER EYE springs to life for the first time and glows red with rage. His whole monster side awakens and takes charge of his body with violent intensity. He grabs Kevin's head and screams in a new, monstrous voice. RICK EAT SHIT! POP! He plucks Kevin's head off his neck and holds it aloft. The head stares down at Rick in disbelief. KEVIN'S HEAD Now you're just being childish. Rick serves the head like a volleyball, smashing it to bits. The crowd panics and charges for the exits. CROWD AHHHHHH! HELP! LET US OUT OF HERE! People are trampling over each other in the mayhem. Alistair Cooke is crushed under the stampede. 50. The freaks are horrified. Monster Rick growls triumphantly. Elijah looks on, intrigued. ELIJAH Now that's entertainment. INT. FREAK HOUSE - MORNING Rick awakens with a start and gets up. He approaches JulieErnie, The Bearded Lady, Nosey and Dog Boy, who are idly playing a game of "Wheel of Fortune." The cubicles contain large blank blocks, like the "letters" on the game show. So far, there's a "D", two "S"s, and a "K" revealed. Rosie the Pinhead plays Vanna White's role. NOSEY I'd like to buy a vowel. The Bearded lady yawns. Rick edges towards them. RICK Hey. The Wheel. Mind if I sit in? Juan advances towards Rick, sneering. JUAN So. Now you don't mind mixing with us--how did you say it--sorry mutants? RICK Look! I'm sorry for what happened at the show. Can't you just forget it? He shakes his finger at Juan, and notices there's still a human nose stuck on his monster claw. He wipes it off, embarrassed. There's an awkward pause. Ernie breaks the silence. ERNIE Hey, shouldn't you tell Rick about your big escape plan? Juan gives Ernie a nasty "shut up" look. He growls at him. ERNIE Well, excuse me for living. RICK You have an escape plan? JUAN Listen, Beast Boy, the games are a simple diversion. (MORE) 51. JUAN(CONT'D) Beneath our twisted flesh we freaks cry out for freedom! Aooooooorrraaaagh! Juan howls lustily. He looks to rest of the freaks. They're a pathetic lot, and their half-hearted howl proves it. FREAKS Aoo... Beat. JULIE Juan's plan is really ingenious Rick. See, he figured out that-- JUAN I figured out that our escape does not include the Beast Boy. No one may discuss the plan with him, understand? Juan gives the others a threatening look. They mumble agreement. RICK What's the matter with all of you? You trust your lives to a guy just 'cause he can lick his own privates? The freaks ponder this a second, then nod "yes". ERNIE You gotta admit, Coog, it's a helluva trick. RICK (RESENTFUL) Fine! I'll just come up with an escape plan of my own then. JUAN Haha! I have spent a year studying this hellhole, devising the perfect escape. You think you'll just tango right out the door!? Ha! Just try it, amigo. RICK I will! Rick turns to go. JulieErnie rush over and try to reason with him quietly. 52. JULIE Rick, wait. ERNIE Yeah. Don't go off half-cocked. Believe me, it ain't all it's cracked up to be. JULIE This isn't one of your dumb movies, Coogan. Look, Juan's a good dog, a smart dog. I'll talk to him. Don't be stupid, Rick. You can't do it without us. RICK Forget it! I don't need you, EES, or anybody else! I'll get out of here all by myself, you... you.,. crud sucking pus monkeys! DING DING DING! The letters in the Wheel of Fortune board light up, and ROSIE turns them over to reveal "Crud Sucking Pus Monkeys" as the secret phrase. Everyone claps despite themselves. Juan stares them down. They stop. Rick storms off in a huff. Juan takes Julie's hand and gazes deep into her eyes. He kisses her passionately. Julie is watching Rick leave. Juan nibbles her neck, which gets her attention. She scratches Juan behind his ear. His leg instinctively kicks the air. Ernie looks worried. ERNIE I'm getting a bad feeling here. CUT TO: INT. REAR CORNER OF FREAK HOUSE - DAY Out of sight from the others, Rick approaches the rear door and tries it. It doesn't open from the inside. RICK Damn. He peers out through a crack in the door and sees a MILKMAN getting out of his truck in the driveway. RICK (TO MILKMAN) Psst! Hey, you. Milkman! 53. OUTSIDE The milkman looks over at the outhouse, suspicious. MILKMAN Yeah... ? RICK (V.0.) Just the man I'm lookinq for. Be a pal, and give me a hand will ya? MILKMAN Oooh no! I know you freaks. You'll try anything just to get someone to open that door. Well not me! Ha! He's about to walk away. RICK Okay. Guess I'll just have to milk the world's biggest breasted woman all by myself. Sorry to bother you. The milkman stops in his tracks. He tiptoes over to the back door of the outhouse, listening intently as Rick goes into his "act." RICK (in a lusty womanish VOICE) Ooohh... Milk me! Milk me now! Milk me hard! (Normal Rick voice) I've only got two hands, all right? Geez. I don't care if Elijah did give you skim milk on the right side, chocolate on the left, and eggnog in the middle. The milkman is salivating at the door. MILKMAN (TO HIMSELF) Gee, I love eggnog! The milkman opens the door eagerly and steps inside. Beat. MILKMAN Hey, what the-- BONK. We hear the sound of bottled buttermilk beaning his soft noggin. Rick walks out wearing the milkman outfit complete with the little six-milk-bottle-carrier thing. 54. He looks around and heads for the milk truck, whistling casually. He notices something. It's ... THE GIANT ELIJAH HEAD Its big eyes are staring at Rick (note: there's a skywriter plane in the distance behind the head, which finishes writing "YOU GOT THE RIGHT ONE BABY: PEPSI") Rick gets to the truck and tries the door. It's locked. RICK Shit. He looks over at the giant head. The eyes are still staring at him--they seem to have shifted. Rick shrugs it off and looks around. He walks over to Elijah's car. It's locked too. He checks the big eyes. They've moved again. Rick's getting a bit desperate. He sees something else and runs towards it. It's a dry-docked motorboat. It's locked too. The eyes have followed Rick again. He sees something else and runs over to it. It's a bag of golf clubs leaning against Elijah's porch. They're locked too. RICK Damn! This guy doesn't trust anybody! He looks at the giant head- the eyes are gone, leaving only empty eyesockets! Rick hears A BURST OF MACHINEGUN FIRE behind him, spins around and faces ... TWO THREE FOOT HIGH EYEBALLS with little arms and legs, wearing Jamaican Rasta hats and aiming smoking Uzi 9mms in the air. They aim their Uzis at Rick. One holds a walkie-talkie, the other holds a big spliff. RICK AHHHH! A T.V. MONITOR in Elijah's hands, shows Rick staring at us, the Eye's POV. ELIJAH seen in extreme close-up, watches the surveillance monitor. He speaks into a microphone. We don't see what the room looks like. ELIJAH Good work, Eye and Eye. 55. THE EYES bob in response to Elijah. They have no mouths, but their pupils open and close when they speak. EYE AND EYE (JAMAICAN ACCENTS) Rastafari. ELIJAH (V.0.) (over the walkie-talkie) Now bring the Beast Boy to my, uh, den. Ha-ha-ha-ha! Rick looks worried as they lead him towards the scary looking house. INT. ELIJAH'S DEN It's a lovely, suburban den with a coffee table full of magazines like "Better Homes and Gardens," "National Review" and "Freaks Illustrated". Elijah sits in a big Barcalounger, smoking a pipe. Rick sits on the sofa. Toad walks up with a tray of soft drinks. ELIJAH (TO RICK) Diet soda? RICK No thanks. Elijah points to a bowl of Fiddle Faddle. Toad sits beside Rick. ELIJAH Fiddle Faddle? (Rick shakes his head) You sure? RICK Well, okay. (he scoops some into his MOUTH) Well, are you gonna torture me or kill me or something? ELIJAH Torture my greatest creation ever!? Kill the final piece of the puzzle that I've been putting together for years!? Sure, it'd be fun, but I've got a bigger plan, my boy. (MORE) 56. ELIJAH(CONT'D) And when you ripped off that guy's head, I knew it was working like gangbusters! RICK But I thought I scared everyone away. ELIJAH Uh-huh. And then they told two friends, and they told two friends, and so on, and so on. Look at this. Elijah grabs a big mail bag and spills some letters out on the table. Elijah opens one and reads it. ELIJAH (READING) Dear Mister Skuggs, I was shocked and disgusted when my grandson told me about the head-popping beast at your show. Please send me six tickets. (he reads another) Dear Beast Boy, I used to like New Kids on The Block, but you're way cuter. My favorite ice cream is chocolate. Is it fun ripping people's heads off? I love you. (ANOTHER LETTER) The Beast Boy is on a blood-letting spree, and Oscar is along for the ride! (he looks up at Rick) That one's from Pat Collins! RICK Yeah, but she loves everything. Rick reaches for the Fiddle Faddle but the bowl is empty. Toad BURPS. ELIJAH Toad! That Fiddle Faddle is for guests only! You've had enough! Toad is blankfaced. Elijah walks over and refills the bowl. Rick scoops some into his mouth. Elijah walks to the fireplace and pushes the embers around with a poker. RICK Look Skuggs--Elijah--I've been in show business all my life. The public does not want to see disgusting, depraved violent filth. 57. ELIJAH Oh, and I suppose Jake and the Fatman is just a fluke? The phone rings. Elijah looks at it, and back to Rick. ELIJAH (CONT'D) I'll get it. He goes over to the phone and lifts the receiver. ELIJAH `Yello? On the other end of the line, we hear LAUGHING MAN's insane chuckle. Elijah's smooth smile fades. He turns his back to- Rick, who strains to identify the familiar laughing voice. Elijah scribbles notes on a pad by the phone. ELIJAH Yes... Right... Tomorrow... Mmhmm... Mnunhmm... Wow. Okay. You got it... Hasta la vista to you too. Hahaahahaahaha-- Laughing Man hangs up on Elijah. He looks a little pissed- off as he turns to face Rick again. Grumbling, he takes the poker in hand, and pokes at the coals angrily. ELIJAH Okay, Coogan. I'm finished with you for now. Ricky rises and snatches the notepad just before Elijah spins to face him. ELIJAH (CONT'D) But listen. I may not be "Mr. Tinseltown", but I damn well know what I like. You're gonna be a hideous killing machine, and that's final! Tomorrow night I'll finish the job onstage! And then, to demonstrate your horrible power, you'll slaughter all the old obsolete freaks in cold bl--HEY! Elijah thrusts the red hot fire poker out and ZAP! He catches Toad's ten foot tongue--curled around the searing poker inches from the Fiddle Faddle. TOAD AAAGGGGHH! 58. ELIJAH I told you enough! CUT TO: EXT. ELIJAH'S HOUSE DAY Elijah shows Rick out the door. The Eyes scurry out and leap back into the sockets in the giant head. ELIJAH Bye-bye. And remember, try another escape, and I'll feed your balls to Toad. As he walks towards the Freak House, Rick pulls out the note he pocketed. A gust of wind blows it away from him. He chases it behind the carnival tent where... KKCCLIINNK! He runs into ELEVEN PHONY MILKMEN, backing their way around the corner, each carrying their own six-pack of milkbottles. Startled, they turn around. Why, it's the freaks! And they're all dressed as milkmen! Cowboy carries the hammer, who's dressed in a little milkman suit as well. BEARDED LADY Hey Rick, I thought you were gonna come up with your own escape plan? RICK (TO JUAN) This is your big plan? A dozen milkmen? Isn't that a little unusual? Juan hadn't thought of this. He pushes himself forward and confronts Rick viciously. JUAN Twelve milkmen is theoretically possible. Thirteen is silly. Looks like one milkman too many, Coogan. He pushes Rick aside. The freaks continue past him. RICK Fine then. Go ahead. Hope you like reggae, ya flea bitten bastard. Rick watches as the Freaks approach the open courtyard, where he knows the Eyeballs will spot them. 59. Julie glances at him a second, then looks away. His mind made up, Rick takes a deep breath. RICK Ah, shit. He runs over to the Freaks. He stands in Juan's way. RICK Look, you'll all be killed. You don't know about Elijah's giant Rasta eyeballs with machine guns... (they think he's nuts) It's suicide! I can't let you do it. JUAN And I can't let you stop us. This is it. Rick and Juan square off. Juan growls and bares his teeth. Rick's MONSTER EYE starts to glow and pulse dimly. They circle each other. The others are transfixed. ELIJAH'S POV He peers through a side window, and sees the pack of milkmen cheering two of their coworkers, locked in mortal combat. ELIJAH That's a lot of milkmen on the same route. No wonder they fight. Juan rears back, about to lunge, when suddenly he freezes and looks off into the distance. A SQUIRREL is sitting innocently a few yards off. JUAN Squirrel! He zooms off after the squirrel. The Eyes pop out of the giant head and follow after him, Uzis FIRING. Juan dodges their bullets and disappears after his prey. The freaks watch their best chance of freedom run off after a pesky rodent. They turn to Rick. NOSEY Wow, giant Rasta eyeballs, just like Rick said. SOCKHEAD Gosh, if it wasn't for Rick, we'd all be dead! 60. OTHER FREAKS Yeah! Way to go Rick! Alright! ERNIE (TO JULIE) God, I can't believe he left you for a squirrel. What a dick. Julie's hurt. She doesn't even smack Ernie. RICK You know how men are. Besides, it was a pretty good looking squirrel. Julie looks at Rick. She sees he's trying to be helpful, not sarcastic. JULIE (to the others) Come on. You heard the Beast Boy. Back to the Freak House, now. Her eyes meet Rick's. She manages a smile, and Rick smiles back. Ernie sizes up the situation and groans as they all head back to the Freak House. ERNIE Not again. (TO RICK) Oh well, at least we'll get to try a new position. CUT TO: INT. STARK INTERROGATION ROOM We're moving in towards a door in this desolate, vaguely corporate looking hallway. INSIDE THE ROOM We're looking at the back of Laughing Man's leather chair. We hear his CACKLE, as well as STUEY GLUCK'S TORTURED SCREAMS and a horrible POWER TOOL NOISE. We can see the usual bright interrogation spotlight, and a couple of extra GOONS watching the goings on, but Stuey and his actual torturer are hidden by Laughing Man's chair. STUEY (O.S.) AHHHHH! STOP IT! OOOWWWWW! We move past Mr. Big's chair to reveal Stuey lying face down on a table, while Bob Vila is using a power sander on his butt. Bob is happily giving pointers to the two goons. 61. BOB Notice the way I use an elliptical motion to chafe Stuey's buttocks. (the Goons nod ATTENTIVELY) It's all here in my new book: Pipes, Fixtures, and Torturing TROLLS-- LAUGHING MAN(O.S.) (Loud, sharp laugh) A-HA-HA-HAHA-HA-HA-HA! Bob obediently shuts up. Laughing Man directs a sinister low chuckle to Stuey. STUEY No way. I'll never talk! I'm made of stone! Bob considers this a second, then starts up a jackhammer. STUEY HELP! RICK! RIIIIIIIIIICCKKK! CUT TO: INT. FREAK HOUSE - DAY We hear LONESOME HARMONICA MUSIC as we pan past the cubicles. Cowboy is playing the harmonica... The Bearded Lady unties the pretty pink ribbon in his hair and sets it aside... Suddenly, we switch to HORRIFIC PSYCHO STINGS as the camera picks up PAUL LYNDE'S CORPSE with flashing red lights. His eyeball drips out of the socket again... Then it's back to the SAD HARMONICA MUSIC. In the next cubicle, Ernie is sleeping, Julie is awake, dreamily fondling a large eclair. She looks longingly up towards Rick's cubicle as we... DREAM DISSOLVE TO: DREAMLAND Rick (his face is normal) and Julie kiss passionately in a billowy white bed amidst puffy clouds. 62. RICK (SINCERE) Julie, compared to this, sex with Julia Roberts was a thankless chore. QUICK DISSOLVE BACK TO: JULIE' We follow her gaze, panning up to Rick. He's lying on his bed, dreamily fondling a donut. He looks down towards Julie's cabin... DREAM DISSOLVE TO: DREAMLAND Rick and Julie kiss passionately. We're tight on them. JULIE Oh Rick, you've touched a place in me no one has ever touched before. ERNIE(O.S.) I'll say! Almost punctured a kidney! WIDEN to show Ernie, still attached to Julie, leering at Rick. Rick is mortified. QUICK DREAM DISSOLVE TO: INT. FREAK HOUSE - DAY Rick sits in his cubicle, visibly sickened by his daydream. Stuey's echoey voice drifts in. STUEY(V.0.) Rick! Riiiicccck! A holographic image of Stuey lying on the torture table appears over Rick. We can see the jackhammer looming over Stuey's face. Rick looks alarmed. STUEY HOLOGRAM Rick! Do something! It's up to you, Rick! Pleeeeeeease! LAUGHING MAN (O.S) Aha-hee-hee-ho-ho-har-har-har! 63. RICK The Laughing Man! Rick watches the hologram break up and disappear. Wheels spinning in his head, he takes the crumpled piece of paper out of his pocket and reads it. RICK (under his breath) Holy shit! JULIE/ERNIE'S CUBICLE Julie and Ernie are struggling over a bottle of deodorant. ERNIE It says it's strong enough for a man! JULIE But it's made for a woman! She grabs it away and shoves it in Ernie's mouth. Rick walks in. JULIE Hey Rick. What's up? RICK Read this. I grabbed it from Skuggs' office. He hands her the notepaper. She reads it, with some difficulty. Ernie is still gagging on deodorant. JULIE "Tape Donahue... Renew Subscription to Beaver World..." Eeuw! She gives Rick a disgusted look. Ernie mumbles with the deodorant in his mouth. ERNIE (interested, muffled) Beaver World!? Julie smacks him--he swallows the deodorant. RICK (TO JULIE) After that. 64. JULIE "Prepare demonstration for Laughing Man, receive five thousand barrels of Noxon." Five thousand barrels!? RICK Elijah's up to something big, and we have to stop him. Ernie BELCHES. Rick sniffs the air. RICK Mmmm. Jasmine. SWISH PAN TO: INT. FREAK HOUSE - DAY Rick takes a deep breath, and begins his presentation to the freaks assembled before him. RICK Alright guys, listen up-- Sockhead suddenly freaks out. SOCKHEAD We're done for! We're done for! I don't want to die! It's the end of the world! The apocalypse! Aahh! He stops. Everyone is staring at him. RICK I haven't said anything yet. SOCKHEAD Sorry. I'm not much for timing. He takes his seat again. RICK (TO EVERYONE) Tomorrow night, at the show, I'll be turned into a homicidal monster and forced to kill you all. But we might have a chance if we act fast. And I'm prepared to be your new leader. A THRILLING CHORD. 65. NOSEY (TO SOCKHEAD) I say we kill him. Sockhead nods. RICK And I've got a plan. ANOTHER THRILLING CHORD. NOSEY I still say we kill him. Sockhead nods again. RICK If we can get into Elijah's lab, maybe we can-- WORM Of course! Design a super freak of our own and manipulate the genetic code to make him destroy Elijah instead of us! Brilliant! RICK Oh. Well-- BEARDED LADY But how do we get to the lab? RICK Um, maybe-- COWBOY Right! The worm could dig a tunnel! WORM By God, it's so crazy it might just work! ERNIE But you need Noxon 24 to make the freaking sludge, and Elijah told us himself he's run out of it. RICK Oh. Oh yeah. Well, see, what I was going to say was-- 66. JULIE Yes! Exactly! If they've been using Noxon 24 as a fertilizer here, the entire ecosystem must be soaked with it! All we need is a way to extract it from the vegetation, ideally into a liquid form. RICK Right. Well, what about-- COWBOY Golly! So that's why my milk comes out that funny green color! I thought the grass tasted funny! Wow, Rick, you're a genius! JULIE (SMILES WARMLY) Good thinking, Rick. The freaks all nod in agreement. NOSEY Way to go, Rick! How did you ever think of such a plan? Rick pulls out an old comic book and points to an ad for Sea Monkeys. RICK Well, actually, I was going to suggest we send away for sea monkeys, train them to fire guns, and make a break for it. But if you want to go with this other thing, I guess that's okay. The freaks stare at him, not sure if he's kidding or not. CUT TO: INT. FREAK HOUSE - NIGHT FREAKS ON A MISSION MONTAGE, SET TO A POUNDING "EYE OF THE TIGER"-TYPE SONG -Nosey milks Cowboy, squirting the glowing milk into a funnel which feeds into a crude still. The Torch heats the boiler. -The Worm digs the tunnel. JulieErnie hand Rick pieces of wood which he puts into place as tunnel supports. They hand him Paul Lynde's corpse and he wedges it in as well. 67. -Everyone's getting into it and working up a sweat. Nosey wipes his brow, opens a bottle of Pepsi and chugs it down in a beautifully lit slo-mo product shot... The other freaks follow suit, including the Worm, down in the tunnel, who struggles to hold the bottle in his tiny feeler. Everything's going great and the song is really pumping when... ELIJAH runs out on his front porch in his nightclothes and screams down at the outhouse. ELIJAH WOULD YOU TURN DOWN THAT GODDAMN RACKET!? IN THE FREAK HOUSE Nosey turns off a boom box and the music cuts short. The freaks exchange tense looks. Nosey calls out apologetically to Elijah. NOSEY SOR-RY. (to the freaks) What a jerk! INT. UNDERGROUND TUNNEL The Worm burrows along, leaving a tunnel wide enough for Rick and JulieErnie to crawl after him. Rick notices a ray of light coming through a rock formation. RICK Hey, look at this! They all stop and look. Rick fingers the hole, and the rocks cave in, revealing A VAST UNDERGROUND CITY It's obviously a matte painting. WORM Good Lord! It's the Lost City of Nodd! JULIE Wow! 68. KER-CHUNK! We hear the sound of a slide projector switching slides and the underground city is replaced by a still image of some tourists standing around a geyser. [foriegn version: the Blarney Stone]. RICK It's Old Faithful! (foriegn take: "It's the Blarney Stone!"] They "Ooh" and "Ahh". The image switches to a snapshot of a FAT MIDDLE-AGED WOMAN. ERNIE It's my Aunt Gladys! The other freaks nod politely. The image switches to a BAR MITZVAH PHOTO. ERNIE And that's me at my bar mitzvah! RICK C'mon Ernie, let's go. ERNIE Wait, you gotta see the ones from sleep-away camp! They're hilarious! Julie smacks him. JULIE Stooge! EXT. FREAK COMPOUND - NIGHT It's an "Antfarm View" of the yard, where the freaks are visible tunneling underground, and Toad is visible on the yard above them. We see a bat fly overhead... ZAP! Toad shoots out his tongue, snags it out of mid air, and chews it happily, oblivious to the freaks burrowing right underneath him. INT. FREAK HOUSE Nosey looks at the nearly full container of distilled Noxon. NOSEY Almost there. (he sniffs the air) But wait, I'm getting a whiff of things to come! 69. BEARDED LADY What do you smell? NOSEY (GRIM) Blood. Bearded Lady looks grave..Nosey sniffs again. NOSEY (CHEERFUL) And hot buttered popcorn! BEARDED LADY Awwright! INT. TUNNEL They're burrowing along. Ernie loudly clears his throat. Julie spits out a loogie. She grimaces. JULIE I hate when you do that. We hear muffled BARKING. ERNIE Hey! Do you hear that? JULIE It's a dog! RICK (TO WORM) Hurry! The Worm breaks through into a small cavern with several exposed sewer pipes. A lovable mutt leaps out of a pipe and drops an old tennis ball in front of Rick. He starts licking Rick's face. RICK Scrappy! SAPPY MUSIC wells up. RICK It's been ten years since you chased this ball into the sewer! I thought you were gone for good! SCRAPPY Yap! 70. RICK Listen Scrap. Go home. Get help. Understand? SCRAPPY Yap! RICK Good boy! Now go! Scrappy runs away into the sewer pipe. Rick shrugs. RICK You never know. Julie taps on some exposed wood on the cavern ceiling. JULIE Look, a wood floor. WORM It must be the lab! we've done it! They all look at each other excitedly. Suddenly Elijah's voice rings out behind them. ELIJAH'S VOICE Not so fast, you scabrous freaks! They spin around and see Nosey holding the bottle of Noxon 24. He grins. NOSEY Didn't know I did impressions, did ya? INT. FREAK HOUSE The freaks are waiting around the hole. Nosey pops out. NOSEY Mission accomplished. They've got the Noxon, and they'll be in the lab within minutes. FROGMAN Boy, this is going like clockwork! Everyone smiles, pats each other on the back, etc. Except Sockhead, who finally snaps. SOCKHEAD No! Can't you see we're digging our own graves!? (MORE) 71. It's nuts, SOCKHEAD(cont'd) that's what it is! Nuts! Well, maybe you've all got a deathwish, but you can count me out! I'M GETTING THE HELL OUT OF HERE! He runs amok, pushes various freaks to the ground, and runs around screaming. The freak house door opens--Eye and Eye step in to check out the noise. One of them has a spliff sticking out of its pupil. Sockhead charges at them like a mad dog. They aim their Uzis. SOCKHEAD (at the Eyes) OUT OF MY WAY! RATTA-RATTA-RATTA! They spray an ungodly amount of bullets into Sockhead. He falls to the ground. The Eyes leave. The freaks gather around Sockhead. Nosey pulls the sock off his hand head, which is making a little "Senor Pepe" face with its fist. It spits up a trickle of blood and tries to speak. SOCKHEAD (WEAK) I... I... just... wanna...say... NOSEY What is it, kid? SOCKHEAD Ah, forget it. I'm not much for dying. He goes limp. CUT TO: INT. ELIJAH'S LAB JulieErnie, the Worm, and Rick are just emerging from the hole. It's really dark in the lab. ERNIE Shit. I can't see a damn thing. RICK Keep your voice down, Ernie. ERNIE Don't push me, Coog. I got a real short fuse today. I'm cranky, bloated, got a wicked case of cramps. Don't ask why. 72. JULIE (whispers to Rick) PMS... RICK (has to think about this) Oh.... Right. Rick pats Ernie on the shoulder reassuringly. He moves over to Elijah's computer terminal. RICK (CONT'D) Well, here it is--the control panel for Elijah's Freaking process. WORM Good work, my boy. Now step aside. This is scientist's work. Worm muscles Rick out of the way and sits at the console. Using a pen held in his mouth, he flicks a series of switches and punches a fast series of computer keys. The light on top of the Tasty Freekz machine starts to revolve, and after a couple of seconds, a stream of GOOEY LIGHT BROWN GLOP oozes out of the spigot. ERNIE Hey! It's working! RICK You did it, Worm! Way to go! JULIE But how? You didn't even use the Noxon. The Worm rushes over to the container of glop below the spigot, and without hesitation, plunges his face into it! Rick, Julie, and Ernie gasp in horror! The WORM lifts his glop-smeared face out of the bowl, and smacks his

neck

How many times the word 'neck' appears in the text?

{I'M UGLY} Into this breathing world, scarse half made up, {I'M REALLY UGLY} And that so lamely and unfashionable, That dogs bark at me as I halt by them. {I'M F KIN' BUTT-UGLY, ALRIGHT!?} Why I, in this weak piping time of peace, {BLAH, BLAH, BLAH} Have no delight to pass away the time, {I NEVER GET LAID...} Unless to see my shadow in the sun, And descant on mine own deformity! {BECAUSE I'M UGLY} Rick bows. The crowd bursts into applause. They yell "Bravo" and throw bouquets. Rick takes several curtain calls. The freaks cheer for him. Julie is particularly moved--she and Rick exchange a heavy look, laden with romantic potential. NOTE: We will insert an almost subliminal one-frame shot of the Pepsi logo at this triumphant moment. Kevin, the EES executive from the airport scene, walks into the tent. Rick sees him and gasps with joy. He leaps off the stage, runs up to Kevin and hugs him. Kevin is shocked, of course. Overcome by the moment, Rick regresses to his old self. RICK I'm saved! Haha! You sorry mutants are gonna rot in this hole while I'm sipping mint juleps by the pool! {AS FORTUNE SMILES O'ER MY FATE, SO DESTINY SPURNS YOUR ACCURSE'D PATE} The freaks and the audience gasp at Rick's cruelty. Julie is shocked--Juan gives her an "I told you so" look. Rick sees Julie and catches himself. 49. RICK (TO KEVIN) I mean, um, I hope you have room for all my friends, heh-heh. KEVIN Rick, Rick, listen, I really love this new look you've come up with. But just between you and me, I don't think the guys upstairs would really get it. RICK What are you saying!? KEVIN (CHUCKLES SNIDELY) I'm saying you're ugly enough to burn the nosehairs off a dead nun. The crowd bursts into cruel hysterics, pointing mockingly at Rick. Even Alistair Cooke is practically choking with laughter. ALISTAIR COOKE AH-HA-HA-HA! WHAT A PUTZ! Rick looks around, horrified at the sea of evil, jeering faces. He begins to tremble. Then... RICK'S MONSTER EYE springs to life for the first time and glows red with rage. His whole monster side awakens and takes charge of his body with violent intensity. He grabs Kevin's head and screams in a new, monstrous voice. RICK EAT SHIT! POP! He plucks Kevin's head off his neck and holds it aloft. The head stares down at Rick in disbelief. KEVIN'S HEAD Now you're just being childish. Rick serves the head like a volleyball, smashing it to bits. The crowd panics and charges for the exits. CROWD AHHHHHH! HELP! LET US OUT OF HERE! People are trampling over each other in the mayhem. Alistair Cooke is crushed under the stampede. 50. The freaks are horrified. Monster Rick growls triumphantly. Elijah looks on, intrigued. ELIJAH Now that's entertainment. INT. FREAK HOUSE - MORNING Rick awakens with a start and gets up. He approaches JulieErnie, The Bearded Lady, Nosey and Dog Boy, who are idly playing a game of "Wheel of Fortune." The cubicles contain large blank blocks, like the "letters" on the game show. So far, there's a "D", two "S"s, and a "K" revealed. Rosie the Pinhead plays Vanna White's role. NOSEY I'd like to buy a vowel. The Bearded lady yawns. Rick edges towards them. RICK Hey. The Wheel. Mind if I sit in? Juan advances towards Rick, sneering. JUAN So. Now you don't mind mixing with us--how did you say it--sorry mutants? RICK Look! I'm sorry for what happened at the show. Can't you just forget it? He shakes his finger at Juan, and notices there's still a human nose stuck on his monster claw. He wipes it off, embarrassed. There's an awkward pause. Ernie breaks the silence. ERNIE Hey, shouldn't you tell Rick about your big escape plan? Juan gives Ernie a nasty "shut up" look. He growls at him. ERNIE Well, excuse me for living. RICK You have an escape plan? JUAN Listen, Beast Boy, the games are a simple diversion. (MORE) 51. JUAN(CONT'D) Beneath our twisted flesh we freaks cry out for freedom! Aooooooorrraaaagh! Juan howls lustily. He looks to rest of the freaks. They're a pathetic lot, and their half-hearted howl proves it. FREAKS Aoo... Beat. JULIE Juan's plan is really ingenious Rick. See, he figured out that-- JUAN I figured out that our escape does not include the Beast Boy. No one may discuss the plan with him, understand? Juan gives the others a threatening look. They mumble agreement. RICK What's the matter with all of you? You trust your lives to a guy just 'cause he can lick his own privates? The freaks ponder this a second, then nod "yes". ERNIE You gotta admit, Coog, it's a helluva trick. RICK (RESENTFUL) Fine! I'll just come up with an escape plan of my own then. JUAN Haha! I have spent a year studying this hellhole, devising the perfect escape. You think you'll just tango right out the door!? Ha! Just try it, amigo. RICK I will! Rick turns to go. JulieErnie rush over and try to reason with him quietly. 52. JULIE Rick, wait. ERNIE Yeah. Don't go off half-cocked. Believe me, it ain't all it's cracked up to be. JULIE This isn't one of your dumb movies, Coogan. Look, Juan's a good dog, a smart dog. I'll talk to him. Don't be stupid, Rick. You can't do it without us. RICK Forget it! I don't need you, EES, or anybody else! I'll get out of here all by myself, you... you.,. crud sucking pus monkeys! DING DING DING! The letters in the Wheel of Fortune board light up, and ROSIE turns them over to reveal "Crud Sucking Pus Monkeys" as the secret phrase. Everyone claps despite themselves. Juan stares them down. They stop. Rick storms off in a huff. Juan takes Julie's hand and gazes deep into her eyes. He kisses her passionately. Julie is watching Rick leave. Juan nibbles her neck, which gets her attention. She scratches Juan behind his ear. His leg instinctively kicks the air. Ernie looks worried. ERNIE I'm getting a bad feeling here. CUT TO: INT. REAR CORNER OF FREAK HOUSE - DAY Out of sight from the others, Rick approaches the rear door and tries it. It doesn't open from the inside. RICK Damn. He peers out through a crack in the door and sees a MILKMAN getting out of his truck in the driveway. RICK (TO MILKMAN) Psst! Hey, you. Milkman! 53. OUTSIDE The milkman looks over at the outhouse, suspicious. MILKMAN Yeah... ? RICK (V.0.) Just the man I'm lookinq for. Be a pal, and give me a hand will ya? MILKMAN Oooh no! I know you freaks. You'll try anything just to get someone to open that door. Well not me! Ha! He's about to walk away. RICK Okay. Guess I'll just have to milk the world's biggest breasted woman all by myself. Sorry to bother you. The milkman stops in his tracks. He tiptoes over to the back door of the outhouse, listening intently as Rick goes into his "act." RICK (in a lusty womanish VOICE) Ooohh... Milk me! Milk me now! Milk me hard! (Normal Rick voice) I've only got two hands, all right? Geez. I don't care if Elijah did give you skim milk on the right side, chocolate on the left, and eggnog in the middle. The milkman is salivating at the door. MILKMAN (TO HIMSELF) Gee, I love eggnog! The milkman opens the door eagerly and steps inside. Beat. MILKMAN Hey, what the-- BONK. We hear the sound of bottled buttermilk beaning his soft noggin. Rick walks out wearing the milkman outfit complete with the little six-milk-bottle-carrier thing. 54. He looks around and heads for the milk truck, whistling casually. He notices something. It's ... THE GIANT ELIJAH HEAD Its big eyes are staring at Rick (note: there's a skywriter plane in the distance behind the head, which finishes writing "YOU GOT THE RIGHT ONE BABY: PEPSI") Rick gets to the truck and tries the door. It's locked. RICK Shit. He looks over at the giant head. The eyes are still staring at him--they seem to have shifted. Rick shrugs it off and looks around. He walks over to Elijah's car. It's locked too. He checks the big eyes. They've moved again. Rick's getting a bit desperate. He sees something else and runs towards it. It's a dry-docked motorboat. It's locked too. The eyes have followed Rick again. He sees something else and runs over to it. It's a bag of golf clubs leaning against Elijah's porch. They're locked too. RICK Damn! This guy doesn't trust anybody! He looks at the giant head- the eyes are gone, leaving only empty eyesockets! Rick hears A BURST OF MACHINEGUN FIRE behind him, spins around and faces ... TWO THREE FOOT HIGH EYEBALLS with little arms and legs, wearing Jamaican Rasta hats and aiming smoking Uzi 9mms in the air. They aim their Uzis at Rick. One holds a walkie-talkie, the other holds a big spliff. RICK AHHHH! A T.V. MONITOR in Elijah's hands, shows Rick staring at us, the Eye's POV. ELIJAH seen in extreme close-up, watches the surveillance monitor. He speaks into a microphone. We don't see what the room looks like. ELIJAH Good work, Eye and Eye. 55. THE EYES bob in response to Elijah. They have no mouths, but their pupils open and close when they speak. EYE AND EYE (JAMAICAN ACCENTS) Rastafari. ELIJAH (V.0.) (over the walkie-talkie) Now bring the Beast Boy to my, uh, den. Ha-ha-ha-ha! Rick looks worried as they lead him towards the scary looking house. INT. ELIJAH'S DEN It's a lovely, suburban den with a coffee table full of magazines like "Better Homes and Gardens," "National Review" and "Freaks Illustrated". Elijah sits in a big Barcalounger, smoking a pipe. Rick sits on the sofa. Toad walks up with a tray of soft drinks. ELIJAH (TO RICK) Diet soda? RICK No thanks. Elijah points to a bowl of Fiddle Faddle. Toad sits beside Rick. ELIJAH Fiddle Faddle? (Rick shakes his head) You sure? RICK Well, okay. (he scoops some into his MOUTH) Well, are you gonna torture me or kill me or something? ELIJAH Torture my greatest creation ever!? Kill the final piece of the puzzle that I've been putting together for years!? Sure, it'd be fun, but I've got a bigger plan, my boy. (MORE) 56. ELIJAH(CONT'D) And when you ripped off that guy's head, I knew it was working like gangbusters! RICK But I thought I scared everyone away. ELIJAH Uh-huh. And then they told two friends, and they told two friends, and so on, and so on. Look at this. Elijah grabs a big mail bag and spills some letters out on the table. Elijah opens one and reads it. ELIJAH (READING) Dear Mister Skuggs, I was shocked and disgusted when my grandson told me about the head-popping beast at your show. Please send me six tickets. (he reads another) Dear Beast Boy, I used to like New Kids on The Block, but you're way cuter. My favorite ice cream is chocolate. Is it fun ripping people's heads off? I love you. (ANOTHER LETTER) The Beast Boy is on a blood-letting spree, and Oscar is along for the ride! (he looks up at Rick) That one's from Pat Collins! RICK Yeah, but she loves everything. Rick reaches for the Fiddle Faddle but the bowl is empty. Toad BURPS. ELIJAH Toad! That Fiddle Faddle is for guests only! You've had enough! Toad is blankfaced. Elijah walks over and refills the bowl. Rick scoops some into his mouth. Elijah walks to the fireplace and pushes the embers around with a poker. RICK Look Skuggs--Elijah--I've been in show business all my life. The public does not want to see disgusting, depraved violent filth. 57. ELIJAH Oh, and I suppose Jake and the Fatman is just a fluke? The phone rings. Elijah looks at it, and back to Rick. ELIJAH (CONT'D) I'll get it. He goes over to the phone and lifts the receiver. ELIJAH `Yello? On the other end of the line, we hear LAUGHING MAN's insane chuckle. Elijah's smooth smile fades. He turns his back to- Rick, who strains to identify the familiar laughing voice. Elijah scribbles notes on a pad by the phone. ELIJAH Yes... Right... Tomorrow... Mmhmm... Mnunhmm... Wow. Okay. You got it... Hasta la vista to you too. Hahaahahaahaha-- Laughing Man hangs up on Elijah. He looks a little pissed- off as he turns to face Rick again. Grumbling, he takes the poker in hand, and pokes at the coals angrily. ELIJAH Okay, Coogan. I'm finished with you for now. Ricky rises and snatches the notepad just before Elijah spins to face him. ELIJAH (CONT'D) But listen. I may not be "Mr. Tinseltown", but I damn well know what I like. You're gonna be a hideous killing machine, and that's final! Tomorrow night I'll finish the job onstage! And then, to demonstrate your horrible power, you'll slaughter all the old obsolete freaks in cold bl--HEY! Elijah thrusts the red hot fire poker out and ZAP! He catches Toad's ten foot tongue--curled around the searing poker inches from the Fiddle Faddle. TOAD AAAGGGGHH! 58. ELIJAH I told you enough! CUT TO: EXT. ELIJAH'S HOUSE DAY Elijah shows Rick out the door. The Eyes scurry out and leap back into the sockets in the giant head. ELIJAH Bye-bye. And remember, try another escape, and I'll feed your balls to Toad. As he walks towards the Freak House, Rick pulls out the note he pocketed. A gust of wind blows it away from him. He chases it behind the carnival tent where... KKCCLIINNK! He runs into ELEVEN PHONY MILKMEN, backing their way around the corner, each carrying their own six-pack of milkbottles. Startled, they turn around. Why, it's the freaks! And they're all dressed as milkmen! Cowboy carries the hammer, who's dressed in a little milkman suit as well. BEARDED LADY Hey Rick, I thought you were gonna come up with your own escape plan? RICK (TO JUAN) This is your big plan? A dozen milkmen? Isn't that a little unusual? Juan hadn't thought of this. He pushes himself forward and confronts Rick viciously. JUAN Twelve milkmen is theoretically possible. Thirteen is silly. Looks like one milkman too many, Coogan. He pushes Rick aside. The freaks continue past him. RICK Fine then. Go ahead. Hope you like reggae, ya flea bitten bastard. Rick watches as the Freaks approach the open courtyard, where he knows the Eyeballs will spot them. 59. Julie glances at him a second, then looks away. His mind made up, Rick takes a deep breath. RICK Ah, shit. He runs over to the Freaks. He stands in Juan's way. RICK Look, you'll all be killed. You don't know about Elijah's giant Rasta eyeballs with machine guns... (they think he's nuts) It's suicide! I can't let you do it. JUAN And I can't let you stop us. This is it. Rick and Juan square off. Juan growls and bares his teeth. Rick's MONSTER EYE starts to glow and pulse dimly. They circle each other. The others are transfixed. ELIJAH'S POV He peers through a side window, and sees the pack of milkmen cheering two of their coworkers, locked in mortal combat. ELIJAH That's a lot of milkmen on the same route. No wonder they fight. Juan rears back, about to lunge, when suddenly he freezes and looks off into the distance. A SQUIRREL is sitting innocently a few yards off. JUAN Squirrel! He zooms off after the squirrel. The Eyes pop out of the giant head and follow after him, Uzis FIRING. Juan dodges their bullets and disappears after his prey. The freaks watch their best chance of freedom run off after a pesky rodent. They turn to Rick. NOSEY Wow, giant Rasta eyeballs, just like Rick said. SOCKHEAD Gosh, if it wasn't for Rick, we'd all be dead! 60. OTHER FREAKS Yeah! Way to go Rick! Alright! ERNIE (TO JULIE) God, I can't believe he left you for a squirrel. What a dick. Julie's hurt. She doesn't even smack Ernie. RICK You know how men are. Besides, it was a pretty good looking squirrel. Julie looks at Rick. She sees he's trying to be helpful, not sarcastic. JULIE (to the others) Come on. You heard the Beast Boy. Back to the Freak House, now. Her eyes meet Rick's. She manages a smile, and Rick smiles back. Ernie sizes up the situation and groans as they all head back to the Freak House. ERNIE Not again. (TO RICK) Oh well, at least we'll get to try a new position. CUT TO: INT. STARK INTERROGATION ROOM We're moving in towards a door in this desolate, vaguely corporate looking hallway. INSIDE THE ROOM We're looking at the back of Laughing Man's leather chair. We hear his CACKLE, as well as STUEY GLUCK'S TORTURED SCREAMS and a horrible POWER TOOL NOISE. We can see the usual bright interrogation spotlight, and a couple of extra GOONS watching the goings on, but Stuey and his actual torturer are hidden by Laughing Man's chair. STUEY (O.S.) AHHHHH! STOP IT! OOOWWWWW! We move past Mr. Big's chair to reveal Stuey lying face down on a table, while Bob Vila is using a power sander on his butt. Bob is happily giving pointers to the two goons. 61. BOB Notice the way I use an elliptical motion to chafe Stuey's buttocks. (the Goons nod ATTENTIVELY) It's all here in my new book: Pipes, Fixtures, and Torturing TROLLS-- LAUGHING MAN(O.S.) (Loud, sharp laugh) A-HA-HA-HAHA-HA-HA-HA! Bob obediently shuts up. Laughing Man directs a sinister low chuckle to Stuey. STUEY No way. I'll never talk! I'm made of stone! Bob considers this a second, then starts up a jackhammer. STUEY HELP! RICK! RIIIIIIIIIICCKKK! CUT TO: INT. FREAK HOUSE - DAY We hear LONESOME HARMONICA MUSIC as we pan past the cubicles. Cowboy is playing the harmonica... The Bearded Lady unties the pretty pink ribbon in his hair and sets it aside... Suddenly, we switch to HORRIFIC PSYCHO STINGS as the camera picks up PAUL LYNDE'S CORPSE with flashing red lights. His eyeball drips out of the socket again... Then it's back to the SAD HARMONICA MUSIC. In the next cubicle, Ernie is sleeping, Julie is awake, dreamily fondling a large eclair. She looks longingly up towards Rick's cubicle as we... DREAM DISSOLVE TO: DREAMLAND Rick (his face is normal) and Julie kiss passionately in a billowy white bed amidst puffy clouds. 62. RICK (SINCERE) Julie, compared to this, sex with Julia Roberts was a thankless chore. QUICK DISSOLVE BACK TO: JULIE' We follow her gaze, panning up to Rick. He's lying on his bed, dreamily fondling a donut. He looks down towards Julie's cabin... DREAM DISSOLVE TO: DREAMLAND Rick and Julie kiss passionately. We're tight on them. JULIE Oh Rick, you've touched a place in me no one has ever touched before. ERNIE(O.S.) I'll say! Almost punctured a kidney! WIDEN to show Ernie, still attached to Julie, leering at Rick. Rick is mortified. QUICK DREAM DISSOLVE TO: INT. FREAK HOUSE - DAY Rick sits in his cubicle, visibly sickened by his daydream. Stuey's echoey voice drifts in. STUEY(V.0.) Rick! Riiiicccck! A holographic image of Stuey lying on the torture table appears over Rick. We can see the jackhammer looming over Stuey's face. Rick looks alarmed. STUEY HOLOGRAM Rick! Do something! It's up to you, Rick! Pleeeeeeease! LAUGHING MAN (O.S) Aha-hee-hee-ho-ho-har-har-har! 63. RICK The Laughing Man! Rick watches the hologram break up and disappear. Wheels spinning in his head, he takes the crumpled piece of paper out of his pocket and reads it. RICK (under his breath) Holy shit! JULIE/ERNIE'S CUBICLE Julie and Ernie are struggling over a bottle of deodorant. ERNIE It says it's strong enough for a man! JULIE But it's made for a woman! She grabs it away and shoves it in Ernie's mouth. Rick walks in. JULIE Hey Rick. What's up? RICK Read this. I grabbed it from Skuggs' office. He hands her the notepaper. She reads it, with some difficulty. Ernie is still gagging on deodorant. JULIE "Tape Donahue... Renew Subscription to Beaver World..." Eeuw! She gives Rick a disgusted look. Ernie mumbles with the deodorant in his mouth. ERNIE (interested, muffled) Beaver World!? Julie smacks him--he swallows the deodorant. RICK (TO JULIE) After that. 64. JULIE "Prepare demonstration for Laughing Man, receive five thousand barrels of Noxon." Five thousand barrels!? RICK Elijah's up to something big, and we have to stop him. Ernie BELCHES. Rick sniffs the air. RICK Mmmm. Jasmine. SWISH PAN TO: INT. FREAK HOUSE - DAY Rick takes a deep breath, and begins his presentation to the freaks assembled before him. RICK Alright guys, listen up-- Sockhead suddenly freaks out. SOCKHEAD We're done for! We're done for! I don't want to die! It's the end of the world! The apocalypse! Aahh! He stops. Everyone is staring at him. RICK I haven't said anything yet. SOCKHEAD Sorry. I'm not much for timing. He takes his seat again. RICK (TO EVERYONE) Tomorrow night, at the show, I'll be turned into a homicidal monster and forced to kill you all. But we might have a chance if we act fast. And I'm prepared to be your new leader. A THRILLING CHORD. 65. NOSEY (TO SOCKHEAD) I say we kill him. Sockhead nods. RICK And I've got a plan. ANOTHER THRILLING CHORD. NOSEY I still say we kill him. Sockhead nods again. RICK If we can get into Elijah's lab, maybe we can-- WORM Of course! Design a super freak of our own and manipulate the genetic code to make him destroy Elijah instead of us! Brilliant! RICK Oh. Well-- BEARDED LADY But how do we get to the lab? RICK Um, maybe-- COWBOY Right! The worm could dig a tunnel! WORM By God, it's so crazy it might just work! ERNIE But you need Noxon 24 to make the freaking sludge, and Elijah told us himself he's run out of it. RICK Oh. Oh yeah. Well, see, what I was going to say was-- 66. JULIE Yes! Exactly! If they've been using Noxon 24 as a fertilizer here, the entire ecosystem must be soaked with it! All we need is a way to extract it from the vegetation, ideally into a liquid form. RICK Right. Well, what about-- COWBOY Golly! So that's why my milk comes out that funny green color! I thought the grass tasted funny! Wow, Rick, you're a genius! JULIE (SMILES WARMLY) Good thinking, Rick. The freaks all nod in agreement. NOSEY Way to go, Rick! How did you ever think of such a plan? Rick pulls out an old comic book and points to an ad for Sea Monkeys. RICK Well, actually, I was going to suggest we send away for sea monkeys, train them to fire guns, and make a break for it. But if you want to go with this other thing, I guess that's okay. The freaks stare at him, not sure if he's kidding or not. CUT TO: INT. FREAK HOUSE - NIGHT FREAKS ON A MISSION MONTAGE, SET TO A POUNDING "EYE OF THE TIGER"-TYPE SONG -Nosey milks Cowboy, squirting the glowing milk into a funnel which feeds into a crude still. The Torch heats the boiler. -The Worm digs the tunnel. JulieErnie hand Rick pieces of wood which he puts into place as tunnel supports. They hand him Paul Lynde's corpse and he wedges it in as well. 67. -Everyone's getting into it and working up a sweat. Nosey wipes his brow, opens a bottle of Pepsi and chugs it down in a beautifully lit slo-mo product shot... The other freaks follow suit, including the Worm, down in the tunnel, who struggles to hold the bottle in his tiny feeler. Everything's going great and the song is really pumping when... ELIJAH runs out on his front porch in his nightclothes and screams down at the outhouse. ELIJAH WOULD YOU TURN DOWN THAT GODDAMN RACKET!? IN THE FREAK HOUSE Nosey turns off a boom box and the music cuts short. The freaks exchange tense looks. Nosey calls out apologetically to Elijah. NOSEY SOR-RY. (to the freaks) What a jerk! INT. UNDERGROUND TUNNEL The Worm burrows along, leaving a tunnel wide enough for Rick and JulieErnie to crawl after him. Rick notices a ray of light coming through a rock formation. RICK Hey, look at this! They all stop and look. Rick fingers the hole, and the rocks cave in, revealing A VAST UNDERGROUND CITY It's obviously a matte painting. WORM Good Lord! It's the Lost City of Nodd! JULIE Wow! 68. KER-CHUNK! We hear the sound of a slide projector switching slides and the underground city is replaced by a still image of some tourists standing around a geyser. [foriegn version: the Blarney Stone]. RICK It's Old Faithful! (foriegn take: "It's the Blarney Stone!"] They "Ooh" and "Ahh". The image switches to a snapshot of a FAT MIDDLE-AGED WOMAN. ERNIE It's my Aunt Gladys! The other freaks nod politely. The image switches to a BAR MITZVAH PHOTO. ERNIE And that's me at my bar mitzvah! RICK C'mon Ernie, let's go. ERNIE Wait, you gotta see the ones from sleep-away camp! They're hilarious! Julie smacks him. JULIE Stooge! EXT. FREAK COMPOUND - NIGHT It's an "Antfarm View" of the yard, where the freaks are visible tunneling underground, and Toad is visible on the yard above them. We see a bat fly overhead... ZAP! Toad shoots out his tongue, snags it out of mid air, and chews it happily, oblivious to the freaks burrowing right underneath him. INT. FREAK HOUSE Nosey looks at the nearly full container of distilled Noxon. NOSEY Almost there. (he sniffs the air) But wait, I'm getting a whiff of things to come! 69. BEARDED LADY What do you smell? NOSEY (GRIM) Blood. Bearded Lady looks grave..Nosey sniffs again. NOSEY (CHEERFUL) And hot buttered popcorn! BEARDED LADY Awwright! INT. TUNNEL They're burrowing along. Ernie loudly clears his throat. Julie spits out a loogie. She grimaces. JULIE I hate when you do that. We hear muffled BARKING. ERNIE Hey! Do you hear that? JULIE It's a dog! RICK (TO WORM) Hurry! The Worm breaks through into a small cavern with several exposed sewer pipes. A lovable mutt leaps out of a pipe and drops an old tennis ball in front of Rick. He starts licking Rick's face. RICK Scrappy! SAPPY MUSIC wells up. RICK It's been ten years since you chased this ball into the sewer! I thought you were gone for good! SCRAPPY Yap! 70. RICK Listen Scrap. Go home. Get help. Understand? SCRAPPY Yap! RICK Good boy! Now go! Scrappy runs away into the sewer pipe. Rick shrugs. RICK You never know. Julie taps on some exposed wood on the cavern ceiling. JULIE Look, a wood floor. WORM It must be the lab! we've done it! They all look at each other excitedly. Suddenly Elijah's voice rings out behind them. ELIJAH'S VOICE Not so fast, you scabrous freaks! They spin around and see Nosey holding the bottle of Noxon 24. He grins. NOSEY Didn't know I did impressions, did ya? INT. FREAK HOUSE The freaks are waiting around the hole. Nosey pops out. NOSEY Mission accomplished. They've got the Noxon, and they'll be in the lab within minutes. FROGMAN Boy, this is going like clockwork! Everyone smiles, pats each other on the back, etc. Except Sockhead, who finally snaps. SOCKHEAD No! Can't you see we're digging our own graves!? (MORE) 71. It's nuts, SOCKHEAD(cont'd) that's what it is! Nuts! Well, maybe you've all got a deathwish, but you can count me out! I'M GETTING THE HELL OUT OF HERE! He runs amok, pushes various freaks to the ground, and runs around screaming. The freak house door opens--Eye and Eye step in to check out the noise. One of them has a spliff sticking out of its pupil. Sockhead charges at them like a mad dog. They aim their Uzis. SOCKHEAD (at the Eyes) OUT OF MY WAY! RATTA-RATTA-RATTA! They spray an ungodly amount of bullets into Sockhead. He falls to the ground. The Eyes leave. The freaks gather around Sockhead. Nosey pulls the sock off his hand head, which is making a little "Senor Pepe" face with its fist. It spits up a trickle of blood and tries to speak. SOCKHEAD (WEAK) I... I... just... wanna...say... NOSEY What is it, kid? SOCKHEAD Ah, forget it. I'm not much for dying. He goes limp. CUT TO: INT. ELIJAH'S LAB JulieErnie, the Worm, and Rick are just emerging from the hole. It's really dark in the lab. ERNIE Shit. I can't see a damn thing. RICK Keep your voice down, Ernie. ERNIE Don't push me, Coog. I got a real short fuse today. I'm cranky, bloated, got a wicked case of cramps. Don't ask why. 72. JULIE (whispers to Rick) PMS... RICK (has to think about this) Oh.... Right. Rick pats Ernie on the shoulder reassuringly. He moves over to Elijah's computer terminal. RICK (CONT'D) Well, here it is--the control panel for Elijah's Freaking process. WORM Good work, my boy. Now step aside. This is scientist's work. Worm muscles Rick out of the way and sits at the console. Using a pen held in his mouth, he flicks a series of switches and punches a fast series of computer keys. The light on top of the Tasty Freekz machine starts to revolve, and after a couple of seconds, a stream of GOOEY LIGHT BROWN GLOP oozes out of the spigot. ERNIE Hey! It's working! RICK You did it, Worm! Way to go! JULIE But how? You didn't even use the Noxon. The Worm rushes over to the container of glop below the spigot, and without hesitation, plunges his face into it! Rick, Julie, and Ernie gasp in horror! The WORM lifts his glop-smeared face out of the bowl, and smacks his

bursts

How many times the word 'bursts' appears in the text?

{I'M UGLY} Into this breathing world, scarse half made up, {I'M REALLY UGLY} And that so lamely and unfashionable, That dogs bark at me as I halt by them. {I'M F KIN' BUTT-UGLY, ALRIGHT!?} Why I, in this weak piping time of peace, {BLAH, BLAH, BLAH} Have no delight to pass away the time, {I NEVER GET LAID...} Unless to see my shadow in the sun, And descant on mine own deformity! {BECAUSE I'M UGLY} Rick bows. The crowd bursts into applause. They yell "Bravo" and throw bouquets. Rick takes several curtain calls. The freaks cheer for him. Julie is particularly moved--she and Rick exchange a heavy look, laden with romantic potential. NOTE: We will insert an almost subliminal one-frame shot of the Pepsi logo at this triumphant moment. Kevin, the EES executive from the airport scene, walks into the tent. Rick sees him and gasps with joy. He leaps off the stage, runs up to Kevin and hugs him. Kevin is shocked, of course. Overcome by the moment, Rick regresses to his old self. RICK I'm saved! Haha! You sorry mutants are gonna rot in this hole while I'm sipping mint juleps by the pool! {AS FORTUNE SMILES O'ER MY FATE, SO DESTINY SPURNS YOUR ACCURSE'D PATE} The freaks and the audience gasp at Rick's cruelty. Julie is shocked--Juan gives her an "I told you so" look. Rick sees Julie and catches himself. 49. RICK (TO KEVIN) I mean, um, I hope you have room for all my friends, heh-heh. KEVIN Rick, Rick, listen, I really love this new look you've come up with. But just between you and me, I don't think the guys upstairs would really get it. RICK What are you saying!? KEVIN (CHUCKLES SNIDELY) I'm saying you're ugly enough to burn the nosehairs off a dead nun. The crowd bursts into cruel hysterics, pointing mockingly at Rick. Even Alistair Cooke is practically choking with laughter. ALISTAIR COOKE AH-HA-HA-HA! WHAT A PUTZ! Rick looks around, horrified at the sea of evil, jeering faces. He begins to tremble. Then... RICK'S MONSTER EYE springs to life for the first time and glows red with rage. His whole monster side awakens and takes charge of his body with violent intensity. He grabs Kevin's head and screams in a new, monstrous voice. RICK EAT SHIT! POP! He plucks Kevin's head off his neck and holds it aloft. The head stares down at Rick in disbelief. KEVIN'S HEAD Now you're just being childish. Rick serves the head like a volleyball, smashing it to bits. The crowd panics and charges for the exits. CROWD AHHHHHH! HELP! LET US OUT OF HERE! People are trampling over each other in the mayhem. Alistair Cooke is crushed under the stampede. 50. The freaks are horrified. Monster Rick growls triumphantly. Elijah looks on, intrigued. ELIJAH Now that's entertainment. INT. FREAK HOUSE - MORNING Rick awakens with a start and gets up. He approaches JulieErnie, The Bearded Lady, Nosey and Dog Boy, who are idly playing a game of "Wheel of Fortune." The cubicles contain large blank blocks, like the "letters" on the game show. So far, there's a "D", two "S"s, and a "K" revealed. Rosie the Pinhead plays Vanna White's role. NOSEY I'd like to buy a vowel. The Bearded lady yawns. Rick edges towards them. RICK Hey. The Wheel. Mind if I sit in? Juan advances towards Rick, sneering. JUAN So. Now you don't mind mixing with us--how did you say it--sorry mutants? RICK Look! I'm sorry for what happened at the show. Can't you just forget it? He shakes his finger at Juan, and notices there's still a human nose stuck on his monster claw. He wipes it off, embarrassed. There's an awkward pause. Ernie breaks the silence. ERNIE Hey, shouldn't you tell Rick about your big escape plan? Juan gives Ernie a nasty "shut up" look. He growls at him. ERNIE Well, excuse me for living. RICK You have an escape plan? JUAN Listen, Beast Boy, the games are a simple diversion. (MORE) 51. JUAN(CONT'D) Beneath our twisted flesh we freaks cry out for freedom! Aooooooorrraaaagh! Juan howls lustily. He looks to rest of the freaks. They're a pathetic lot, and their half-hearted howl proves it. FREAKS Aoo... Beat. JULIE Juan's plan is really ingenious Rick. See, he figured out that-- JUAN I figured out that our escape does not include the Beast Boy. No one may discuss the plan with him, understand? Juan gives the others a threatening look. They mumble agreement. RICK What's the matter with all of you? You trust your lives to a guy just 'cause he can lick his own privates? The freaks ponder this a second, then nod "yes". ERNIE You gotta admit, Coog, it's a helluva trick. RICK (RESENTFUL) Fine! I'll just come up with an escape plan of my own then. JUAN Haha! I have spent a year studying this hellhole, devising the perfect escape. You think you'll just tango right out the door!? Ha! Just try it, amigo. RICK I will! Rick turns to go. JulieErnie rush over and try to reason with him quietly. 52. JULIE Rick, wait. ERNIE Yeah. Don't go off half-cocked. Believe me, it ain't all it's cracked up to be. JULIE This isn't one of your dumb movies, Coogan. Look, Juan's a good dog, a smart dog. I'll talk to him. Don't be stupid, Rick. You can't do it without us. RICK Forget it! I don't need you, EES, or anybody else! I'll get out of here all by myself, you... you.,. crud sucking pus monkeys! DING DING DING! The letters in the Wheel of Fortune board light up, and ROSIE turns them over to reveal "Crud Sucking Pus Monkeys" as the secret phrase. Everyone claps despite themselves. Juan stares them down. They stop. Rick storms off in a huff. Juan takes Julie's hand and gazes deep into her eyes. He kisses her passionately. Julie is watching Rick leave. Juan nibbles her neck, which gets her attention. She scratches Juan behind his ear. His leg instinctively kicks the air. Ernie looks worried. ERNIE I'm getting a bad feeling here. CUT TO: INT. REAR CORNER OF FREAK HOUSE - DAY Out of sight from the others, Rick approaches the rear door and tries it. It doesn't open from the inside. RICK Damn. He peers out through a crack in the door and sees a MILKMAN getting out of his truck in the driveway. RICK (TO MILKMAN) Psst! Hey, you. Milkman! 53. OUTSIDE The milkman looks over at the outhouse, suspicious. MILKMAN Yeah... ? RICK (V.0.) Just the man I'm lookinq for. Be a pal, and give me a hand will ya? MILKMAN Oooh no! I know you freaks. You'll try anything just to get someone to open that door. Well not me! Ha! He's about to walk away. RICK Okay. Guess I'll just have to milk the world's biggest breasted woman all by myself. Sorry to bother you. The milkman stops in his tracks. He tiptoes over to the back door of the outhouse, listening intently as Rick goes into his "act." RICK (in a lusty womanish VOICE) Ooohh... Milk me! Milk me now! Milk me hard! (Normal Rick voice) I've only got two hands, all right? Geez. I don't care if Elijah did give you skim milk on the right side, chocolate on the left, and eggnog in the middle. The milkman is salivating at the door. MILKMAN (TO HIMSELF) Gee, I love eggnog! The milkman opens the door eagerly and steps inside. Beat. MILKMAN Hey, what the-- BONK. We hear the sound of bottled buttermilk beaning his soft noggin. Rick walks out wearing the milkman outfit complete with the little six-milk-bottle-carrier thing. 54. He looks around and heads for the milk truck, whistling casually. He notices something. It's ... THE GIANT ELIJAH HEAD Its big eyes are staring at Rick (note: there's a skywriter plane in the distance behind the head, which finishes writing "YOU GOT THE RIGHT ONE BABY: PEPSI") Rick gets to the truck and tries the door. It's locked. RICK Shit. He looks over at the giant head. The eyes are still staring at him--they seem to have shifted. Rick shrugs it off and looks around. He walks over to Elijah's car. It's locked too. He checks the big eyes. They've moved again. Rick's getting a bit desperate. He sees something else and runs towards it. It's a dry-docked motorboat. It's locked too. The eyes have followed Rick again. He sees something else and runs over to it. It's a bag of golf clubs leaning against Elijah's porch. They're locked too. RICK Damn! This guy doesn't trust anybody! He looks at the giant head- the eyes are gone, leaving only empty eyesockets! Rick hears A BURST OF MACHINEGUN FIRE behind him, spins around and faces ... TWO THREE FOOT HIGH EYEBALLS with little arms and legs, wearing Jamaican Rasta hats and aiming smoking Uzi 9mms in the air. They aim their Uzis at Rick. One holds a walkie-talkie, the other holds a big spliff. RICK AHHHH! A T.V. MONITOR in Elijah's hands, shows Rick staring at us, the Eye's POV. ELIJAH seen in extreme close-up, watches the surveillance monitor. He speaks into a microphone. We don't see what the room looks like. ELIJAH Good work, Eye and Eye. 55. THE EYES bob in response to Elijah. They have no mouths, but their pupils open and close when they speak. EYE AND EYE (JAMAICAN ACCENTS) Rastafari. ELIJAH (V.0.) (over the walkie-talkie) Now bring the Beast Boy to my, uh, den. Ha-ha-ha-ha! Rick looks worried as they lead him towards the scary looking house. INT. ELIJAH'S DEN It's a lovely, suburban den with a coffee table full of magazines like "Better Homes and Gardens," "National Review" and "Freaks Illustrated". Elijah sits in a big Barcalounger, smoking a pipe. Rick sits on the sofa. Toad walks up with a tray of soft drinks. ELIJAH (TO RICK) Diet soda? RICK No thanks. Elijah points to a bowl of Fiddle Faddle. Toad sits beside Rick. ELIJAH Fiddle Faddle? (Rick shakes his head) You sure? RICK Well, okay. (he scoops some into his MOUTH) Well, are you gonna torture me or kill me or something? ELIJAH Torture my greatest creation ever!? Kill the final piece of the puzzle that I've been putting together for years!? Sure, it'd be fun, but I've got a bigger plan, my boy. (MORE) 56. ELIJAH(CONT'D) And when you ripped off that guy's head, I knew it was working like gangbusters! RICK But I thought I scared everyone away. ELIJAH Uh-huh. And then they told two friends, and they told two friends, and so on, and so on. Look at this. Elijah grabs a big mail bag and spills some letters out on the table. Elijah opens one and reads it. ELIJAH (READING) Dear Mister Skuggs, I was shocked and disgusted when my grandson told me about the head-popping beast at your show. Please send me six tickets. (he reads another) Dear Beast Boy, I used to like New Kids on The Block, but you're way cuter. My favorite ice cream is chocolate. Is it fun ripping people's heads off? I love you. (ANOTHER LETTER) The Beast Boy is on a blood-letting spree, and Oscar is along for the ride! (he looks up at Rick) That one's from Pat Collins! RICK Yeah, but she loves everything. Rick reaches for the Fiddle Faddle but the bowl is empty. Toad BURPS. ELIJAH Toad! That Fiddle Faddle is for guests only! You've had enough! Toad is blankfaced. Elijah walks over and refills the bowl. Rick scoops some into his mouth. Elijah walks to the fireplace and pushes the embers around with a poker. RICK Look Skuggs--Elijah--I've been in show business all my life. The public does not want to see disgusting, depraved violent filth. 57. ELIJAH Oh, and I suppose Jake and the Fatman is just a fluke? The phone rings. Elijah looks at it, and back to Rick. ELIJAH (CONT'D) I'll get it. He goes over to the phone and lifts the receiver. ELIJAH `Yello? On the other end of the line, we hear LAUGHING MAN's insane chuckle. Elijah's smooth smile fades. He turns his back to- Rick, who strains to identify the familiar laughing voice. Elijah scribbles notes on a pad by the phone. ELIJAH Yes... Right... Tomorrow... Mmhmm... Mnunhmm... Wow. Okay. You got it... Hasta la vista to you too. Hahaahahaahaha-- Laughing Man hangs up on Elijah. He looks a little pissed- off as he turns to face Rick again. Grumbling, he takes the poker in hand, and pokes at the coals angrily. ELIJAH Okay, Coogan. I'm finished with you for now. Ricky rises and snatches the notepad just before Elijah spins to face him. ELIJAH (CONT'D) But listen. I may not be "Mr. Tinseltown", but I damn well know what I like. You're gonna be a hideous killing machine, and that's final! Tomorrow night I'll finish the job onstage! And then, to demonstrate your horrible power, you'll slaughter all the old obsolete freaks in cold bl--HEY! Elijah thrusts the red hot fire poker out and ZAP! He catches Toad's ten foot tongue--curled around the searing poker inches from the Fiddle Faddle. TOAD AAAGGGGHH! 58. ELIJAH I told you enough! CUT TO: EXT. ELIJAH'S HOUSE DAY Elijah shows Rick out the door. The Eyes scurry out and leap back into the sockets in the giant head. ELIJAH Bye-bye. And remember, try another escape, and I'll feed your balls to Toad. As he walks towards the Freak House, Rick pulls out the note he pocketed. A gust of wind blows it away from him. He chases it behind the carnival tent where... KKCCLIINNK! He runs into ELEVEN PHONY MILKMEN, backing their way around the corner, each carrying their own six-pack of milkbottles. Startled, they turn around. Why, it's the freaks! And they're all dressed as milkmen! Cowboy carries the hammer, who's dressed in a little milkman suit as well. BEARDED LADY Hey Rick, I thought you were gonna come up with your own escape plan? RICK (TO JUAN) This is your big plan? A dozen milkmen? Isn't that a little unusual? Juan hadn't thought of this. He pushes himself forward and confronts Rick viciously. JUAN Twelve milkmen is theoretically possible. Thirteen is silly. Looks like one milkman too many, Coogan. He pushes Rick aside. The freaks continue past him. RICK Fine then. Go ahead. Hope you like reggae, ya flea bitten bastard. Rick watches as the Freaks approach the open courtyard, where he knows the Eyeballs will spot them. 59. Julie glances at him a second, then looks away. His mind made up, Rick takes a deep breath. RICK Ah, shit. He runs over to the Freaks. He stands in Juan's way. RICK Look, you'll all be killed. You don't know about Elijah's giant Rasta eyeballs with machine guns... (they think he's nuts) It's suicide! I can't let you do it. JUAN And I can't let you stop us. This is it. Rick and Juan square off. Juan growls and bares his teeth. Rick's MONSTER EYE starts to glow and pulse dimly. They circle each other. The others are transfixed. ELIJAH'S POV He peers through a side window, and sees the pack of milkmen cheering two of their coworkers, locked in mortal combat. ELIJAH That's a lot of milkmen on the same route. No wonder they fight. Juan rears back, about to lunge, when suddenly he freezes and looks off into the distance. A SQUIRREL is sitting innocently a few yards off. JUAN Squirrel! He zooms off after the squirrel. The Eyes pop out of the giant head and follow after him, Uzis FIRING. Juan dodges their bullets and disappears after his prey. The freaks watch their best chance of freedom run off after a pesky rodent. They turn to Rick. NOSEY Wow, giant Rasta eyeballs, just like Rick said. SOCKHEAD Gosh, if it wasn't for Rick, we'd all be dead! 60. OTHER FREAKS Yeah! Way to go Rick! Alright! ERNIE (TO JULIE) God, I can't believe he left you for a squirrel. What a dick. Julie's hurt. She doesn't even smack Ernie. RICK You know how men are. Besides, it was a pretty good looking squirrel. Julie looks at Rick. She sees he's trying to be helpful, not sarcastic. JULIE (to the others) Come on. You heard the Beast Boy. Back to the Freak House, now. Her eyes meet Rick's. She manages a smile, and Rick smiles back. Ernie sizes up the situation and groans as they all head back to the Freak House. ERNIE Not again. (TO RICK) Oh well, at least we'll get to try a new position. CUT TO: INT. STARK INTERROGATION ROOM We're moving in towards a door in this desolate, vaguely corporate looking hallway. INSIDE THE ROOM We're looking at the back of Laughing Man's leather chair. We hear his CACKLE, as well as STUEY GLUCK'S TORTURED SCREAMS and a horrible POWER TOOL NOISE. We can see the usual bright interrogation spotlight, and a couple of extra GOONS watching the goings on, but Stuey and his actual torturer are hidden by Laughing Man's chair. STUEY (O.S.) AHHHHH! STOP IT! OOOWWWWW! We move past Mr. Big's chair to reveal Stuey lying face down on a table, while Bob Vila is using a power sander on his butt. Bob is happily giving pointers to the two goons. 61. BOB Notice the way I use an elliptical motion to chafe Stuey's buttocks. (the Goons nod ATTENTIVELY) It's all here in my new book: Pipes, Fixtures, and Torturing TROLLS-- LAUGHING MAN(O.S.) (Loud, sharp laugh) A-HA-HA-HAHA-HA-HA-HA! Bob obediently shuts up. Laughing Man directs a sinister low chuckle to Stuey. STUEY No way. I'll never talk! I'm made of stone! Bob considers this a second, then starts up a jackhammer. STUEY HELP! RICK! RIIIIIIIIIICCKKK! CUT TO: INT. FREAK HOUSE - DAY We hear LONESOME HARMONICA MUSIC as we pan past the cubicles. Cowboy is playing the harmonica... The Bearded Lady unties the pretty pink ribbon in his hair and sets it aside... Suddenly, we switch to HORRIFIC PSYCHO STINGS as the camera picks up PAUL LYNDE'S CORPSE with flashing red lights. His eyeball drips out of the socket again... Then it's back to the SAD HARMONICA MUSIC. In the next cubicle, Ernie is sleeping, Julie is awake, dreamily fondling a large eclair. She looks longingly up towards Rick's cubicle as we... DREAM DISSOLVE TO: DREAMLAND Rick (his face is normal) and Julie kiss passionately in a billowy white bed amidst puffy clouds. 62. RICK (SINCERE) Julie, compared to this, sex with Julia Roberts was a thankless chore. QUICK DISSOLVE BACK TO: JULIE' We follow her gaze, panning up to Rick. He's lying on his bed, dreamily fondling a donut. He looks down towards Julie's cabin... DREAM DISSOLVE TO: DREAMLAND Rick and Julie kiss passionately. We're tight on them. JULIE Oh Rick, you've touched a place in me no one has ever touched before. ERNIE(O.S.) I'll say! Almost punctured a kidney! WIDEN to show Ernie, still attached to Julie, leering at Rick. Rick is mortified. QUICK DREAM DISSOLVE TO: INT. FREAK HOUSE - DAY Rick sits in his cubicle, visibly sickened by his daydream. Stuey's echoey voice drifts in. STUEY(V.0.) Rick! Riiiicccck! A holographic image of Stuey lying on the torture table appears over Rick. We can see the jackhammer looming over Stuey's face. Rick looks alarmed. STUEY HOLOGRAM Rick! Do something! It's up to you, Rick! Pleeeeeeease! LAUGHING MAN (O.S) Aha-hee-hee-ho-ho-har-har-har! 63. RICK The Laughing Man! Rick watches the hologram break up and disappear. Wheels spinning in his head, he takes the crumpled piece of paper out of his pocket and reads it. RICK (under his breath) Holy shit! JULIE/ERNIE'S CUBICLE Julie and Ernie are struggling over a bottle of deodorant. ERNIE It says it's strong enough for a man! JULIE But it's made for a woman! She grabs it away and shoves it in Ernie's mouth. Rick walks in. JULIE Hey Rick. What's up? RICK Read this. I grabbed it from Skuggs' office. He hands her the notepaper. She reads it, with some difficulty. Ernie is still gagging on deodorant. JULIE "Tape Donahue... Renew Subscription to Beaver World..." Eeuw! She gives Rick a disgusted look. Ernie mumbles with the deodorant in his mouth. ERNIE (interested, muffled) Beaver World!? Julie smacks him--he swallows the deodorant. RICK (TO JULIE) After that. 64. JULIE "Prepare demonstration for Laughing Man, receive five thousand barrels of Noxon." Five thousand barrels!? RICK Elijah's up to something big, and we have to stop him. Ernie BELCHES. Rick sniffs the air. RICK Mmmm. Jasmine. SWISH PAN TO: INT. FREAK HOUSE - DAY Rick takes a deep breath, and begins his presentation to the freaks assembled before him. RICK Alright guys, listen up-- Sockhead suddenly freaks out. SOCKHEAD We're done for! We're done for! I don't want to die! It's the end of the world! The apocalypse! Aahh! He stops. Everyone is staring at him. RICK I haven't said anything yet. SOCKHEAD Sorry. I'm not much for timing. He takes his seat again. RICK (TO EVERYONE) Tomorrow night, at the show, I'll be turned into a homicidal monster and forced to kill you all. But we might have a chance if we act fast. And I'm prepared to be your new leader. A THRILLING CHORD. 65. NOSEY (TO SOCKHEAD) I say we kill him. Sockhead nods. RICK And I've got a plan. ANOTHER THRILLING CHORD. NOSEY I still say we kill him. Sockhead nods again. RICK If we can get into Elijah's lab, maybe we can-- WORM Of course! Design a super freak of our own and manipulate the genetic code to make him destroy Elijah instead of us! Brilliant! RICK Oh. Well-- BEARDED LADY But how do we get to the lab? RICK Um, maybe-- COWBOY Right! The worm could dig a tunnel! WORM By God, it's so crazy it might just work! ERNIE But you need Noxon 24 to make the freaking sludge, and Elijah told us himself he's run out of it. RICK Oh. Oh yeah. Well, see, what I was going to say was-- 66. JULIE Yes! Exactly! If they've been using Noxon 24 as a fertilizer here, the entire ecosystem must be soaked with it! All we need is a way to extract it from the vegetation, ideally into a liquid form. RICK Right. Well, what about-- COWBOY Golly! So that's why my milk comes out that funny green color! I thought the grass tasted funny! Wow, Rick, you're a genius! JULIE (SMILES WARMLY) Good thinking, Rick. The freaks all nod in agreement. NOSEY Way to go, Rick! How did you ever think of such a plan? Rick pulls out an old comic book and points to an ad for Sea Monkeys. RICK Well, actually, I was going to suggest we send away for sea monkeys, train them to fire guns, and make a break for it. But if you want to go with this other thing, I guess that's okay. The freaks stare at him, not sure if he's kidding or not. CUT TO: INT. FREAK HOUSE - NIGHT FREAKS ON A MISSION MONTAGE, SET TO A POUNDING "EYE OF THE TIGER"-TYPE SONG -Nosey milks Cowboy, squirting the glowing milk into a funnel which feeds into a crude still. The Torch heats the boiler. -The Worm digs the tunnel. JulieErnie hand Rick pieces of wood which he puts into place as tunnel supports. They hand him Paul Lynde's corpse and he wedges it in as well. 67. -Everyone's getting into it and working up a sweat. Nosey wipes his brow, opens a bottle of Pepsi and chugs it down in a beautifully lit slo-mo product shot... The other freaks follow suit, including the Worm, down in the tunnel, who struggles to hold the bottle in his tiny feeler. Everything's going great and the song is really pumping when... ELIJAH runs out on his front porch in his nightclothes and screams down at the outhouse. ELIJAH WOULD YOU TURN DOWN THAT GODDAMN RACKET!? IN THE FREAK HOUSE Nosey turns off a boom box and the music cuts short. The freaks exchange tense looks. Nosey calls out apologetically to Elijah. NOSEY SOR-RY. (to the freaks) What a jerk! INT. UNDERGROUND TUNNEL The Worm burrows along, leaving a tunnel wide enough for Rick and JulieErnie to crawl after him. Rick notices a ray of light coming through a rock formation. RICK Hey, look at this! They all stop and look. Rick fingers the hole, and the rocks cave in, revealing A VAST UNDERGROUND CITY It's obviously a matte painting. WORM Good Lord! It's the Lost City of Nodd! JULIE Wow! 68. KER-CHUNK! We hear the sound of a slide projector switching slides and the underground city is replaced by a still image of some tourists standing around a geyser. [foriegn version: the Blarney Stone]. RICK It's Old Faithful! (foriegn take: "It's the Blarney Stone!"] They "Ooh" and "Ahh". The image switches to a snapshot of a FAT MIDDLE-AGED WOMAN. ERNIE It's my Aunt Gladys! The other freaks nod politely. The image switches to a BAR MITZVAH PHOTO. ERNIE And that's me at my bar mitzvah! RICK C'mon Ernie, let's go. ERNIE Wait, you gotta see the ones from sleep-away camp! They're hilarious! Julie smacks him. JULIE Stooge! EXT. FREAK COMPOUND - NIGHT It's an "Antfarm View" of the yard, where the freaks are visible tunneling underground, and Toad is visible on the yard above them. We see a bat fly overhead... ZAP! Toad shoots out his tongue, snags it out of mid air, and chews it happily, oblivious to the freaks burrowing right underneath him. INT. FREAK HOUSE Nosey looks at the nearly full container of distilled Noxon. NOSEY Almost there. (he sniffs the air) But wait, I'm getting a whiff of things to come! 69. BEARDED LADY What do you smell? NOSEY (GRIM) Blood. Bearded Lady looks grave..Nosey sniffs again. NOSEY (CHEERFUL) And hot buttered popcorn! BEARDED LADY Awwright! INT. TUNNEL They're burrowing along. Ernie loudly clears his throat. Julie spits out a loogie. She grimaces. JULIE I hate when you do that. We hear muffled BARKING. ERNIE Hey! Do you hear that? JULIE It's a dog! RICK (TO WORM) Hurry! The Worm breaks through into a small cavern with several exposed sewer pipes. A lovable mutt leaps out of a pipe and drops an old tennis ball in front of Rick. He starts licking Rick's face. RICK Scrappy! SAPPY MUSIC wells up. RICK It's been ten years since you chased this ball into the sewer! I thought you were gone for good! SCRAPPY Yap! 70. RICK Listen Scrap. Go home. Get help. Understand? SCRAPPY Yap! RICK Good boy! Now go! Scrappy runs away into the sewer pipe. Rick shrugs. RICK You never know. Julie taps on some exposed wood on the cavern ceiling. JULIE Look, a wood floor. WORM It must be the lab! we've done it! They all look at each other excitedly. Suddenly Elijah's voice rings out behind them. ELIJAH'S VOICE Not so fast, you scabrous freaks! They spin around and see Nosey holding the bottle of Noxon 24. He grins. NOSEY Didn't know I did impressions, did ya? INT. FREAK HOUSE The freaks are waiting around the hole. Nosey pops out. NOSEY Mission accomplished. They've got the Noxon, and they'll be in the lab within minutes. FROGMAN Boy, this is going like clockwork! Everyone smiles, pats each other on the back, etc. Except Sockhead, who finally snaps. SOCKHEAD No! Can't you see we're digging our own graves!? (MORE) 71. It's nuts, SOCKHEAD(cont'd) that's what it is! Nuts! Well, maybe you've all got a deathwish, but you can count me out! I'M GETTING THE HELL OUT OF HERE! He runs amok, pushes various freaks to the ground, and runs around screaming. The freak house door opens--Eye and Eye step in to check out the noise. One of them has a spliff sticking out of its pupil. Sockhead charges at them like a mad dog. They aim their Uzis. SOCKHEAD (at the Eyes) OUT OF MY WAY! RATTA-RATTA-RATTA! They spray an ungodly amount of bullets into Sockhead. He falls to the ground. The Eyes leave. The freaks gather around Sockhead. Nosey pulls the sock off his hand head, which is making a little "Senor Pepe" face with its fist. It spits up a trickle of blood and tries to speak. SOCKHEAD (WEAK) I... I... just... wanna...say... NOSEY What is it, kid? SOCKHEAD Ah, forget it. I'm not much for dying. He goes limp. CUT TO: INT. ELIJAH'S LAB JulieErnie, the Worm, and Rick are just emerging from the hole. It's really dark in the lab. ERNIE Shit. I can't see a damn thing. RICK Keep your voice down, Ernie. ERNIE Don't push me, Coog. I got a real short fuse today. I'm cranky, bloated, got a wicked case of cramps. Don't ask why. 72. JULIE (whispers to Rick) PMS... RICK (has to think about this) Oh.... Right. Rick pats Ernie on the shoulder reassuringly. He moves over to Elijah's computer terminal. RICK (CONT'D) Well, here it is--the control panel for Elijah's Freaking process. WORM Good work, my boy. Now step aside. This is scientist's work. Worm muscles Rick out of the way and sits at the console. Using a pen held in his mouth, he flicks a series of switches and punches a fast series of computer keys. The light on top of the Tasty Freekz machine starts to revolve, and after a couple of seconds, a stream of GOOEY LIGHT BROWN GLOP oozes out of the spigot. ERNIE Hey! It's working! RICK You did it, Worm! Way to go! JULIE But how? You didn't even use the Noxon. The Worm rushes over to the container of glop below the spigot, and without hesitation, plunges his face into it! Rick, Julie, and Ernie gasp in horror! The WORM lifts his glop-smeared face out of the bowl, and smacks his

half

How many times the word 'half' appears in the text?

{I'M UGLY} Into this breathing world, scarse half made up, {I'M REALLY UGLY} And that so lamely and unfashionable, That dogs bark at me as I halt by them. {I'M F KIN' BUTT-UGLY, ALRIGHT!?} Why I, in this weak piping time of peace, {BLAH, BLAH, BLAH} Have no delight to pass away the time, {I NEVER GET LAID...} Unless to see my shadow in the sun, And descant on mine own deformity! {BECAUSE I'M UGLY} Rick bows. The crowd bursts into applause. They yell "Bravo" and throw bouquets. Rick takes several curtain calls. The freaks cheer for him. Julie is particularly moved--she and Rick exchange a heavy look, laden with romantic potential. NOTE: We will insert an almost subliminal one-frame shot of the Pepsi logo at this triumphant moment. Kevin, the EES executive from the airport scene, walks into the tent. Rick sees him and gasps with joy. He leaps off the stage, runs up to Kevin and hugs him. Kevin is shocked, of course. Overcome by the moment, Rick regresses to his old self. RICK I'm saved! Haha! You sorry mutants are gonna rot in this hole while I'm sipping mint juleps by the pool! {AS FORTUNE SMILES O'ER MY FATE, SO DESTINY SPURNS YOUR ACCURSE'D PATE} The freaks and the audience gasp at Rick's cruelty. Julie is shocked--Juan gives her an "I told you so" look. Rick sees Julie and catches himself. 49. RICK (TO KEVIN) I mean, um, I hope you have room for all my friends, heh-heh. KEVIN Rick, Rick, listen, I really love this new look you've come up with. But just between you and me, I don't think the guys upstairs would really get it. RICK What are you saying!? KEVIN (CHUCKLES SNIDELY) I'm saying you're ugly enough to burn the nosehairs off a dead nun. The crowd bursts into cruel hysterics, pointing mockingly at Rick. Even Alistair Cooke is practically choking with laughter. ALISTAIR COOKE AH-HA-HA-HA! WHAT A PUTZ! Rick looks around, horrified at the sea of evil, jeering faces. He begins to tremble. Then... RICK'S MONSTER EYE springs to life for the first time and glows red with rage. His whole monster side awakens and takes charge of his body with violent intensity. He grabs Kevin's head and screams in a new, monstrous voice. RICK EAT SHIT! POP! He plucks Kevin's head off his neck and holds it aloft. The head stares down at Rick in disbelief. KEVIN'S HEAD Now you're just being childish. Rick serves the head like a volleyball, smashing it to bits. The crowd panics and charges for the exits. CROWD AHHHHHH! HELP! LET US OUT OF HERE! People are trampling over each other in the mayhem. Alistair Cooke is crushed under the stampede. 50. The freaks are horrified. Monster Rick growls triumphantly. Elijah looks on, intrigued. ELIJAH Now that's entertainment. INT. FREAK HOUSE - MORNING Rick awakens with a start and gets up. He approaches JulieErnie, The Bearded Lady, Nosey and Dog Boy, who are idly playing a game of "Wheel of Fortune." The cubicles contain large blank blocks, like the "letters" on the game show. So far, there's a "D", two "S"s, and a "K" revealed. Rosie the Pinhead plays Vanna White's role. NOSEY I'd like to buy a vowel. The Bearded lady yawns. Rick edges towards them. RICK Hey. The Wheel. Mind if I sit in? Juan advances towards Rick, sneering. JUAN So. Now you don't mind mixing with us--how did you say it--sorry mutants? RICK Look! I'm sorry for what happened at the show. Can't you just forget it? He shakes his finger at Juan, and notices there's still a human nose stuck on his monster claw. He wipes it off, embarrassed. There's an awkward pause. Ernie breaks the silence. ERNIE Hey, shouldn't you tell Rick about your big escape plan? Juan gives Ernie a nasty "shut up" look. He growls at him. ERNIE Well, excuse me for living. RICK You have an escape plan? JUAN Listen, Beast Boy, the games are a simple diversion. (MORE) 51. JUAN(CONT'D) Beneath our twisted flesh we freaks cry out for freedom! Aooooooorrraaaagh! Juan howls lustily. He looks to rest of the freaks. They're a pathetic lot, and their half-hearted howl proves it. FREAKS Aoo... Beat. JULIE Juan's plan is really ingenious Rick. See, he figured out that-- JUAN I figured out that our escape does not include the Beast Boy. No one may discuss the plan with him, understand? Juan gives the others a threatening look. They mumble agreement. RICK What's the matter with all of you? You trust your lives to a guy just 'cause he can lick his own privates? The freaks ponder this a second, then nod "yes". ERNIE You gotta admit, Coog, it's a helluva trick. RICK (RESENTFUL) Fine! I'll just come up with an escape plan of my own then. JUAN Haha! I have spent a year studying this hellhole, devising the perfect escape. You think you'll just tango right out the door!? Ha! Just try it, amigo. RICK I will! Rick turns to go. JulieErnie rush over and try to reason with him quietly. 52. JULIE Rick, wait. ERNIE Yeah. Don't go off half-cocked. Believe me, it ain't all it's cracked up to be. JULIE This isn't one of your dumb movies, Coogan. Look, Juan's a good dog, a smart dog. I'll talk to him. Don't be stupid, Rick. You can't do it without us. RICK Forget it! I don't need you, EES, or anybody else! I'll get out of here all by myself, you... you.,. crud sucking pus monkeys! DING DING DING! The letters in the Wheel of Fortune board light up, and ROSIE turns them over to reveal "Crud Sucking Pus Monkeys" as the secret phrase. Everyone claps despite themselves. Juan stares them down. They stop. Rick storms off in a huff. Juan takes Julie's hand and gazes deep into her eyes. He kisses her passionately. Julie is watching Rick leave. Juan nibbles her neck, which gets her attention. She scratches Juan behind his ear. His leg instinctively kicks the air. Ernie looks worried. ERNIE I'm getting a bad feeling here. CUT TO: INT. REAR CORNER OF FREAK HOUSE - DAY Out of sight from the others, Rick approaches the rear door and tries it. It doesn't open from the inside. RICK Damn. He peers out through a crack in the door and sees a MILKMAN getting out of his truck in the driveway. RICK (TO MILKMAN) Psst! Hey, you. Milkman! 53. OUTSIDE The milkman looks over at the outhouse, suspicious. MILKMAN Yeah... ? RICK (V.0.) Just the man I'm lookinq for. Be a pal, and give me a hand will ya? MILKMAN Oooh no! I know you freaks. You'll try anything just to get someone to open that door. Well not me! Ha! He's about to walk away. RICK Okay. Guess I'll just have to milk the world's biggest breasted woman all by myself. Sorry to bother you. The milkman stops in his tracks. He tiptoes over to the back door of the outhouse, listening intently as Rick goes into his "act." RICK (in a lusty womanish VOICE) Ooohh... Milk me! Milk me now! Milk me hard! (Normal Rick voice) I've only got two hands, all right? Geez. I don't care if Elijah did give you skim milk on the right side, chocolate on the left, and eggnog in the middle. The milkman is salivating at the door. MILKMAN (TO HIMSELF) Gee, I love eggnog! The milkman opens the door eagerly and steps inside. Beat. MILKMAN Hey, what the-- BONK. We hear the sound of bottled buttermilk beaning his soft noggin. Rick walks out wearing the milkman outfit complete with the little six-milk-bottle-carrier thing. 54. He looks around and heads for the milk truck, whistling casually. He notices something. It's ... THE GIANT ELIJAH HEAD Its big eyes are staring at Rick (note: there's a skywriter plane in the distance behind the head, which finishes writing "YOU GOT THE RIGHT ONE BABY: PEPSI") Rick gets to the truck and tries the door. It's locked. RICK Shit. He looks over at the giant head. The eyes are still staring at him--they seem to have shifted. Rick shrugs it off and looks around. He walks over to Elijah's car. It's locked too. He checks the big eyes. They've moved again. Rick's getting a bit desperate. He sees something else and runs towards it. It's a dry-docked motorboat. It's locked too. The eyes have followed Rick again. He sees something else and runs over to it. It's a bag of golf clubs leaning against Elijah's porch. They're locked too. RICK Damn! This guy doesn't trust anybody! He looks at the giant head- the eyes are gone, leaving only empty eyesockets! Rick hears A BURST OF MACHINEGUN FIRE behind him, spins around and faces ... TWO THREE FOOT HIGH EYEBALLS with little arms and legs, wearing Jamaican Rasta hats and aiming smoking Uzi 9mms in the air. They aim their Uzis at Rick. One holds a walkie-talkie, the other holds a big spliff. RICK AHHHH! A T.V. MONITOR in Elijah's hands, shows Rick staring at us, the Eye's POV. ELIJAH seen in extreme close-up, watches the surveillance monitor. He speaks into a microphone. We don't see what the room looks like. ELIJAH Good work, Eye and Eye. 55. THE EYES bob in response to Elijah. They have no mouths, but their pupils open and close when they speak. EYE AND EYE (JAMAICAN ACCENTS) Rastafari. ELIJAH (V.0.) (over the walkie-talkie) Now bring the Beast Boy to my, uh, den. Ha-ha-ha-ha! Rick looks worried as they lead him towards the scary looking house. INT. ELIJAH'S DEN It's a lovely, suburban den with a coffee table full of magazines like "Better Homes and Gardens," "National Review" and "Freaks Illustrated". Elijah sits in a big Barcalounger, smoking a pipe. Rick sits on the sofa. Toad walks up with a tray of soft drinks. ELIJAH (TO RICK) Diet soda? RICK No thanks. Elijah points to a bowl of Fiddle Faddle. Toad sits beside Rick. ELIJAH Fiddle Faddle? (Rick shakes his head) You sure? RICK Well, okay. (he scoops some into his MOUTH) Well, are you gonna torture me or kill me or something? ELIJAH Torture my greatest creation ever!? Kill the final piece of the puzzle that I've been putting together for years!? Sure, it'd be fun, but I've got a bigger plan, my boy. (MORE) 56. ELIJAH(CONT'D) And when you ripped off that guy's head, I knew it was working like gangbusters! RICK But I thought I scared everyone away. ELIJAH Uh-huh. And then they told two friends, and they told two friends, and so on, and so on. Look at this. Elijah grabs a big mail bag and spills some letters out on the table. Elijah opens one and reads it. ELIJAH (READING) Dear Mister Skuggs, I was shocked and disgusted when my grandson told me about the head-popping beast at your show. Please send me six tickets. (he reads another) Dear Beast Boy, I used to like New Kids on The Block, but you're way cuter. My favorite ice cream is chocolate. Is it fun ripping people's heads off? I love you. (ANOTHER LETTER) The Beast Boy is on a blood-letting spree, and Oscar is along for the ride! (he looks up at Rick) That one's from Pat Collins! RICK Yeah, but she loves everything. Rick reaches for the Fiddle Faddle but the bowl is empty. Toad BURPS. ELIJAH Toad! That Fiddle Faddle is for guests only! You've had enough! Toad is blankfaced. Elijah walks over and refills the bowl. Rick scoops some into his mouth. Elijah walks to the fireplace and pushes the embers around with a poker. RICK Look Skuggs--Elijah--I've been in show business all my life. The public does not want to see disgusting, depraved violent filth. 57. ELIJAH Oh, and I suppose Jake and the Fatman is just a fluke? The phone rings. Elijah looks at it, and back to Rick. ELIJAH (CONT'D) I'll get it. He goes over to the phone and lifts the receiver. ELIJAH `Yello? On the other end of the line, we hear LAUGHING MAN's insane chuckle. Elijah's smooth smile fades. He turns his back to- Rick, who strains to identify the familiar laughing voice. Elijah scribbles notes on a pad by the phone. ELIJAH Yes... Right... Tomorrow... Mmhmm... Mnunhmm... Wow. Okay. You got it... Hasta la vista to you too. Hahaahahaahaha-- Laughing Man hangs up on Elijah. He looks a little pissed- off as he turns to face Rick again. Grumbling, he takes the poker in hand, and pokes at the coals angrily. ELIJAH Okay, Coogan. I'm finished with you for now. Ricky rises and snatches the notepad just before Elijah spins to face him. ELIJAH (CONT'D) But listen. I may not be "Mr. Tinseltown", but I damn well know what I like. You're gonna be a hideous killing machine, and that's final! Tomorrow night I'll finish the job onstage! And then, to demonstrate your horrible power, you'll slaughter all the old obsolete freaks in cold bl--HEY! Elijah thrusts the red hot fire poker out and ZAP! He catches Toad's ten foot tongue--curled around the searing poker inches from the Fiddle Faddle. TOAD AAAGGGGHH! 58. ELIJAH I told you enough! CUT TO: EXT. ELIJAH'S HOUSE DAY Elijah shows Rick out the door. The Eyes scurry out and leap back into the sockets in the giant head. ELIJAH Bye-bye. And remember, try another escape, and I'll feed your balls to Toad. As he walks towards the Freak House, Rick pulls out the note he pocketed. A gust of wind blows it away from him. He chases it behind the carnival tent where... KKCCLIINNK! He runs into ELEVEN PHONY MILKMEN, backing their way around the corner, each carrying their own six-pack of milkbottles. Startled, they turn around. Why, it's the freaks! And they're all dressed as milkmen! Cowboy carries the hammer, who's dressed in a little milkman suit as well. BEARDED LADY Hey Rick, I thought you were gonna come up with your own escape plan? RICK (TO JUAN) This is your big plan? A dozen milkmen? Isn't that a little unusual? Juan hadn't thought of this. He pushes himself forward and confronts Rick viciously. JUAN Twelve milkmen is theoretically possible. Thirteen is silly. Looks like one milkman too many, Coogan. He pushes Rick aside. The freaks continue past him. RICK Fine then. Go ahead. Hope you like reggae, ya flea bitten bastard. Rick watches as the Freaks approach the open courtyard, where he knows the Eyeballs will spot them. 59. Julie glances at him a second, then looks away. His mind made up, Rick takes a deep breath. RICK Ah, shit. He runs over to the Freaks. He stands in Juan's way. RICK Look, you'll all be killed. You don't know about Elijah's giant Rasta eyeballs with machine guns... (they think he's nuts) It's suicide! I can't let you do it. JUAN And I can't let you stop us. This is it. Rick and Juan square off. Juan growls and bares his teeth. Rick's MONSTER EYE starts to glow and pulse dimly. They circle each other. The others are transfixed. ELIJAH'S POV He peers through a side window, and sees the pack of milkmen cheering two of their coworkers, locked in mortal combat. ELIJAH That's a lot of milkmen on the same route. No wonder they fight. Juan rears back, about to lunge, when suddenly he freezes and looks off into the distance. A SQUIRREL is sitting innocently a few yards off. JUAN Squirrel! He zooms off after the squirrel. The Eyes pop out of the giant head and follow after him, Uzis FIRING. Juan dodges their bullets and disappears after his prey. The freaks watch their best chance of freedom run off after a pesky rodent. They turn to Rick. NOSEY Wow, giant Rasta eyeballs, just like Rick said. SOCKHEAD Gosh, if it wasn't for Rick, we'd all be dead! 60. OTHER FREAKS Yeah! Way to go Rick! Alright! ERNIE (TO JULIE) God, I can't believe he left you for a squirrel. What a dick. Julie's hurt. She doesn't even smack Ernie. RICK You know how men are. Besides, it was a pretty good looking squirrel. Julie looks at Rick. She sees he's trying to be helpful, not sarcastic. JULIE (to the others) Come on. You heard the Beast Boy. Back to the Freak House, now. Her eyes meet Rick's. She manages a smile, and Rick smiles back. Ernie sizes up the situation and groans as they all head back to the Freak House. ERNIE Not again. (TO RICK) Oh well, at least we'll get to try a new position. CUT TO: INT. STARK INTERROGATION ROOM We're moving in towards a door in this desolate, vaguely corporate looking hallway. INSIDE THE ROOM We're looking at the back of Laughing Man's leather chair. We hear his CACKLE, as well as STUEY GLUCK'S TORTURED SCREAMS and a horrible POWER TOOL NOISE. We can see the usual bright interrogation spotlight, and a couple of extra GOONS watching the goings on, but Stuey and his actual torturer are hidden by Laughing Man's chair. STUEY (O.S.) AHHHHH! STOP IT! OOOWWWWW! We move past Mr. Big's chair to reveal Stuey lying face down on a table, while Bob Vila is using a power sander on his butt. Bob is happily giving pointers to the two goons. 61. BOB Notice the way I use an elliptical motion to chafe Stuey's buttocks. (the Goons nod ATTENTIVELY) It's all here in my new book: Pipes, Fixtures, and Torturing TROLLS-- LAUGHING MAN(O.S.) (Loud, sharp laugh) A-HA-HA-HAHA-HA-HA-HA! Bob obediently shuts up. Laughing Man directs a sinister low chuckle to Stuey. STUEY No way. I'll never talk! I'm made of stone! Bob considers this a second, then starts up a jackhammer. STUEY HELP! RICK! RIIIIIIIIIICCKKK! CUT TO: INT. FREAK HOUSE - DAY We hear LONESOME HARMONICA MUSIC as we pan past the cubicles. Cowboy is playing the harmonica... The Bearded Lady unties the pretty pink ribbon in his hair and sets it aside... Suddenly, we switch to HORRIFIC PSYCHO STINGS as the camera picks up PAUL LYNDE'S CORPSE with flashing red lights. His eyeball drips out of the socket again... Then it's back to the SAD HARMONICA MUSIC. In the next cubicle, Ernie is sleeping, Julie is awake, dreamily fondling a large eclair. She looks longingly up towards Rick's cubicle as we... DREAM DISSOLVE TO: DREAMLAND Rick (his face is normal) and Julie kiss passionately in a billowy white bed amidst puffy clouds. 62. RICK (SINCERE) Julie, compared to this, sex with Julia Roberts was a thankless chore. QUICK DISSOLVE BACK TO: JULIE' We follow her gaze, panning up to Rick. He's lying on his bed, dreamily fondling a donut. He looks down towards Julie's cabin... DREAM DISSOLVE TO: DREAMLAND Rick and Julie kiss passionately. We're tight on them. JULIE Oh Rick, you've touched a place in me no one has ever touched before. ERNIE(O.S.) I'll say! Almost punctured a kidney! WIDEN to show Ernie, still attached to Julie, leering at Rick. Rick is mortified. QUICK DREAM DISSOLVE TO: INT. FREAK HOUSE - DAY Rick sits in his cubicle, visibly sickened by his daydream. Stuey's echoey voice drifts in. STUEY(V.0.) Rick! Riiiicccck! A holographic image of Stuey lying on the torture table appears over Rick. We can see the jackhammer looming over Stuey's face. Rick looks alarmed. STUEY HOLOGRAM Rick! Do something! It's up to you, Rick! Pleeeeeeease! LAUGHING MAN (O.S) Aha-hee-hee-ho-ho-har-har-har! 63. RICK The Laughing Man! Rick watches the hologram break up and disappear. Wheels spinning in his head, he takes the crumpled piece of paper out of his pocket and reads it. RICK (under his breath) Holy shit! JULIE/ERNIE'S CUBICLE Julie and Ernie are struggling over a bottle of deodorant. ERNIE It says it's strong enough for a man! JULIE But it's made for a woman! She grabs it away and shoves it in Ernie's mouth. Rick walks in. JULIE Hey Rick. What's up? RICK Read this. I grabbed it from Skuggs' office. He hands her the notepaper. She reads it, with some difficulty. Ernie is still gagging on deodorant. JULIE "Tape Donahue... Renew Subscription to Beaver World..." Eeuw! She gives Rick a disgusted look. Ernie mumbles with the deodorant in his mouth. ERNIE (interested, muffled) Beaver World!? Julie smacks him--he swallows the deodorant. RICK (TO JULIE) After that. 64. JULIE "Prepare demonstration for Laughing Man, receive five thousand barrels of Noxon." Five thousand barrels!? RICK Elijah's up to something big, and we have to stop him. Ernie BELCHES. Rick sniffs the air. RICK Mmmm. Jasmine. SWISH PAN TO: INT. FREAK HOUSE - DAY Rick takes a deep breath, and begins his presentation to the freaks assembled before him. RICK Alright guys, listen up-- Sockhead suddenly freaks out. SOCKHEAD We're done for! We're done for! I don't want to die! It's the end of the world! The apocalypse! Aahh! He stops. Everyone is staring at him. RICK I haven't said anything yet. SOCKHEAD Sorry. I'm not much for timing. He takes his seat again. RICK (TO EVERYONE) Tomorrow night, at the show, I'll be turned into a homicidal monster and forced to kill you all. But we might have a chance if we act fast. And I'm prepared to be your new leader. A THRILLING CHORD. 65. NOSEY (TO SOCKHEAD) I say we kill him. Sockhead nods. RICK And I've got a plan. ANOTHER THRILLING CHORD. NOSEY I still say we kill him. Sockhead nods again. RICK If we can get into Elijah's lab, maybe we can-- WORM Of course! Design a super freak of our own and manipulate the genetic code to make him destroy Elijah instead of us! Brilliant! RICK Oh. Well-- BEARDED LADY But how do we get to the lab? RICK Um, maybe-- COWBOY Right! The worm could dig a tunnel! WORM By God, it's so crazy it might just work! ERNIE But you need Noxon 24 to make the freaking sludge, and Elijah told us himself he's run out of it. RICK Oh. Oh yeah. Well, see, what I was going to say was-- 66. JULIE Yes! Exactly! If they've been using Noxon 24 as a fertilizer here, the entire ecosystem must be soaked with it! All we need is a way to extract it from the vegetation, ideally into a liquid form. RICK Right. Well, what about-- COWBOY Golly! So that's why my milk comes out that funny green color! I thought the grass tasted funny! Wow, Rick, you're a genius! JULIE (SMILES WARMLY) Good thinking, Rick. The freaks all nod in agreement. NOSEY Way to go, Rick! How did you ever think of such a plan? Rick pulls out an old comic book and points to an ad for Sea Monkeys. RICK Well, actually, I was going to suggest we send away for sea monkeys, train them to fire guns, and make a break for it. But if you want to go with this other thing, I guess that's okay. The freaks stare at him, not sure if he's kidding or not. CUT TO: INT. FREAK HOUSE - NIGHT FREAKS ON A MISSION MONTAGE, SET TO A POUNDING "EYE OF THE TIGER"-TYPE SONG -Nosey milks Cowboy, squirting the glowing milk into a funnel which feeds into a crude still. The Torch heats the boiler. -The Worm digs the tunnel. JulieErnie hand Rick pieces of wood which he puts into place as tunnel supports. They hand him Paul Lynde's corpse and he wedges it in as well. 67. -Everyone's getting into it and working up a sweat. Nosey wipes his brow, opens a bottle of Pepsi and chugs it down in a beautifully lit slo-mo product shot... The other freaks follow suit, including the Worm, down in the tunnel, who struggles to hold the bottle in his tiny feeler. Everything's going great and the song is really pumping when... ELIJAH runs out on his front porch in his nightclothes and screams down at the outhouse. ELIJAH WOULD YOU TURN DOWN THAT GODDAMN RACKET!? IN THE FREAK HOUSE Nosey turns off a boom box and the music cuts short. The freaks exchange tense looks. Nosey calls out apologetically to Elijah. NOSEY SOR-RY. (to the freaks) What a jerk! INT. UNDERGROUND TUNNEL The Worm burrows along, leaving a tunnel wide enough for Rick and JulieErnie to crawl after him. Rick notices a ray of light coming through a rock formation. RICK Hey, look at this! They all stop and look. Rick fingers the hole, and the rocks cave in, revealing A VAST UNDERGROUND CITY It's obviously a matte painting. WORM Good Lord! It's the Lost City of Nodd! JULIE Wow! 68. KER-CHUNK! We hear the sound of a slide projector switching slides and the underground city is replaced by a still image of some tourists standing around a geyser. [foriegn version: the Blarney Stone]. RICK It's Old Faithful! (foriegn take: "It's the Blarney Stone!"] They "Ooh" and "Ahh". The image switches to a snapshot of a FAT MIDDLE-AGED WOMAN. ERNIE It's my Aunt Gladys! The other freaks nod politely. The image switches to a BAR MITZVAH PHOTO. ERNIE And that's me at my bar mitzvah! RICK C'mon Ernie, let's go. ERNIE Wait, you gotta see the ones from sleep-away camp! They're hilarious! Julie smacks him. JULIE Stooge! EXT. FREAK COMPOUND - NIGHT It's an "Antfarm View" of the yard, where the freaks are visible tunneling underground, and Toad is visible on the yard above them. We see a bat fly overhead... ZAP! Toad shoots out his tongue, snags it out of mid air, and chews it happily, oblivious to the freaks burrowing right underneath him. INT. FREAK HOUSE Nosey looks at the nearly full container of distilled Noxon. NOSEY Almost there. (he sniffs the air) But wait, I'm getting a whiff of things to come! 69. BEARDED LADY What do you smell? NOSEY (GRIM) Blood. Bearded Lady looks grave..Nosey sniffs again. NOSEY (CHEERFUL) And hot buttered popcorn! BEARDED LADY Awwright! INT. TUNNEL They're burrowing along. Ernie loudly clears his throat. Julie spits out a loogie. She grimaces. JULIE I hate when you do that. We hear muffled BARKING. ERNIE Hey! Do you hear that? JULIE It's a dog! RICK (TO WORM) Hurry! The Worm breaks through into a small cavern with several exposed sewer pipes. A lovable mutt leaps out of a pipe and drops an old tennis ball in front of Rick. He starts licking Rick's face. RICK Scrappy! SAPPY MUSIC wells up. RICK It's been ten years since you chased this ball into the sewer! I thought you were gone for good! SCRAPPY Yap! 70. RICK Listen Scrap. Go home. Get help. Understand? SCRAPPY Yap! RICK Good boy! Now go! Scrappy runs away into the sewer pipe. Rick shrugs. RICK You never know. Julie taps on some exposed wood on the cavern ceiling. JULIE Look, a wood floor. WORM It must be the lab! we've done it! They all look at each other excitedly. Suddenly Elijah's voice rings out behind them. ELIJAH'S VOICE Not so fast, you scabrous freaks! They spin around and see Nosey holding the bottle of Noxon 24. He grins. NOSEY Didn't know I did impressions, did ya? INT. FREAK HOUSE The freaks are waiting around the hole. Nosey pops out. NOSEY Mission accomplished. They've got the Noxon, and they'll be in the lab within minutes. FROGMAN Boy, this is going like clockwork! Everyone smiles, pats each other on the back, etc. Except Sockhead, who finally snaps. SOCKHEAD No! Can't you see we're digging our own graves!? (MORE) 71. It's nuts, SOCKHEAD(cont'd) that's what it is! Nuts! Well, maybe you've all got a deathwish, but you can count me out! I'M GETTING THE HELL OUT OF HERE! He runs amok, pushes various freaks to the ground, and runs around screaming. The freak house door opens--Eye and Eye step in to check out the noise. One of them has a spliff sticking out of its pupil. Sockhead charges at them like a mad dog. They aim their Uzis. SOCKHEAD (at the Eyes) OUT OF MY WAY! RATTA-RATTA-RATTA! They spray an ungodly amount of bullets into Sockhead. He falls to the ground. The Eyes leave. The freaks gather around Sockhead. Nosey pulls the sock off his hand head, which is making a little "Senor Pepe" face with its fist. It spits up a trickle of blood and tries to speak. SOCKHEAD (WEAK) I... I... just... wanna...say... NOSEY What is it, kid? SOCKHEAD Ah, forget it. I'm not much for dying. He goes limp. CUT TO: INT. ELIJAH'S LAB JulieErnie, the Worm, and Rick are just emerging from the hole. It's really dark in the lab. ERNIE Shit. I can't see a damn thing. RICK Keep your voice down, Ernie. ERNIE Don't push me, Coog. I got a real short fuse today. I'm cranky, bloated, got a wicked case of cramps. Don't ask why. 72. JULIE (whispers to Rick) PMS... RICK (has to think about this) Oh.... Right. Rick pats Ernie on the shoulder reassuringly. He moves over to Elijah's computer terminal. RICK (CONT'D) Well, here it is--the control panel for Elijah's Freaking process. WORM Good work, my boy. Now step aside. This is scientist's work. Worm muscles Rick out of the way and sits at the console. Using a pen held in his mouth, he flicks a series of switches and punches a fast series of computer keys. The light on top of the Tasty Freekz machine starts to revolve, and after a couple of seconds, a stream of GOOEY LIGHT BROWN GLOP oozes out of the spigot. ERNIE Hey! It's working! RICK You did it, Worm! Way to go! JULIE But how? You didn't even use the Noxon. The Worm rushes over to the container of glop below the spigot, and without hesitation, plunges his face into it! Rick, Julie, and Ernie gasp in horror! The WORM lifts his glop-smeared face out of the bowl, and smacks his

spats

How many times the word 'spats' appears in the text?

{I'M UGLY} Into this breathing world, scarse half made up, {I'M REALLY UGLY} And that so lamely and unfashionable, That dogs bark at me as I halt by them. {I'M F KIN' BUTT-UGLY, ALRIGHT!?} Why I, in this weak piping time of peace, {BLAH, BLAH, BLAH} Have no delight to pass away the time, {I NEVER GET LAID...} Unless to see my shadow in the sun, And descant on mine own deformity! {BECAUSE I'M UGLY} Rick bows. The crowd bursts into applause. They yell "Bravo" and throw bouquets. Rick takes several curtain calls. The freaks cheer for him. Julie is particularly moved--she and Rick exchange a heavy look, laden with romantic potential. NOTE: We will insert an almost subliminal one-frame shot of the Pepsi logo at this triumphant moment. Kevin, the EES executive from the airport scene, walks into the tent. Rick sees him and gasps with joy. He leaps off the stage, runs up to Kevin and hugs him. Kevin is shocked, of course. Overcome by the moment, Rick regresses to his old self. RICK I'm saved! Haha! You sorry mutants are gonna rot in this hole while I'm sipping mint juleps by the pool! {AS FORTUNE SMILES O'ER MY FATE, SO DESTINY SPURNS YOUR ACCURSE'D PATE} The freaks and the audience gasp at Rick's cruelty. Julie is shocked--Juan gives her an "I told you so" look. Rick sees Julie and catches himself. 49. RICK (TO KEVIN) I mean, um, I hope you have room for all my friends, heh-heh. KEVIN Rick, Rick, listen, I really love this new look you've come up with. But just between you and me, I don't think the guys upstairs would really get it. RICK What are you saying!? KEVIN (CHUCKLES SNIDELY) I'm saying you're ugly enough to burn the nosehairs off a dead nun. The crowd bursts into cruel hysterics, pointing mockingly at Rick. Even Alistair Cooke is practically choking with laughter. ALISTAIR COOKE AH-HA-HA-HA! WHAT A PUTZ! Rick looks around, horrified at the sea of evil, jeering faces. He begins to tremble. Then... RICK'S MONSTER EYE springs to life for the first time and glows red with rage. His whole monster side awakens and takes charge of his body with violent intensity. He grabs Kevin's head and screams in a new, monstrous voice. RICK EAT SHIT! POP! He plucks Kevin's head off his neck and holds it aloft. The head stares down at Rick in disbelief. KEVIN'S HEAD Now you're just being childish. Rick serves the head like a volleyball, smashing it to bits. The crowd panics and charges for the exits. CROWD AHHHHHH! HELP! LET US OUT OF HERE! People are trampling over each other in the mayhem. Alistair Cooke is crushed under the stampede. 50. The freaks are horrified. Monster Rick growls triumphantly. Elijah looks on, intrigued. ELIJAH Now that's entertainment. INT. FREAK HOUSE - MORNING Rick awakens with a start and gets up. He approaches JulieErnie, The Bearded Lady, Nosey and Dog Boy, who are idly playing a game of "Wheel of Fortune." The cubicles contain large blank blocks, like the "letters" on the game show. So far, there's a "D", two "S"s, and a "K" revealed. Rosie the Pinhead plays Vanna White's role. NOSEY I'd like to buy a vowel. The Bearded lady yawns. Rick edges towards them. RICK Hey. The Wheel. Mind if I sit in? Juan advances towards Rick, sneering. JUAN So. Now you don't mind mixing with us--how did you say it--sorry mutants? RICK Look! I'm sorry for what happened at the show. Can't you just forget it? He shakes his finger at Juan, and notices there's still a human nose stuck on his monster claw. He wipes it off, embarrassed. There's an awkward pause. Ernie breaks the silence. ERNIE Hey, shouldn't you tell Rick about your big escape plan? Juan gives Ernie a nasty "shut up" look. He growls at him. ERNIE Well, excuse me for living. RICK You have an escape plan? JUAN Listen, Beast Boy, the games are a simple diversion. (MORE) 51. JUAN(CONT'D) Beneath our twisted flesh we freaks cry out for freedom! Aooooooorrraaaagh! Juan howls lustily. He looks to rest of the freaks. They're a pathetic lot, and their half-hearted howl proves it. FREAKS Aoo... Beat. JULIE Juan's plan is really ingenious Rick. See, he figured out that-- JUAN I figured out that our escape does not include the Beast Boy. No one may discuss the plan with him, understand? Juan gives the others a threatening look. They mumble agreement. RICK What's the matter with all of you? You trust your lives to a guy just 'cause he can lick his own privates? The freaks ponder this a second, then nod "yes". ERNIE You gotta admit, Coog, it's a helluva trick. RICK (RESENTFUL) Fine! I'll just come up with an escape plan of my own then. JUAN Haha! I have spent a year studying this hellhole, devising the perfect escape. You think you'll just tango right out the door!? Ha! Just try it, amigo. RICK I will! Rick turns to go. JulieErnie rush over and try to reason with him quietly. 52. JULIE Rick, wait. ERNIE Yeah. Don't go off half-cocked. Believe me, it ain't all it's cracked up to be. JULIE This isn't one of your dumb movies, Coogan. Look, Juan's a good dog, a smart dog. I'll talk to him. Don't be stupid, Rick. You can't do it without us. RICK Forget it! I don't need you, EES, or anybody else! I'll get out of here all by myself, you... you.,. crud sucking pus monkeys! DING DING DING! The letters in the Wheel of Fortune board light up, and ROSIE turns them over to reveal "Crud Sucking Pus Monkeys" as the secret phrase. Everyone claps despite themselves. Juan stares them down. They stop. Rick storms off in a huff. Juan takes Julie's hand and gazes deep into her eyes. He kisses her passionately. Julie is watching Rick leave. Juan nibbles her neck, which gets her attention. She scratches Juan behind his ear. His leg instinctively kicks the air. Ernie looks worried. ERNIE I'm getting a bad feeling here. CUT TO: INT. REAR CORNER OF FREAK HOUSE - DAY Out of sight from the others, Rick approaches the rear door and tries it. It doesn't open from the inside. RICK Damn. He peers out through a crack in the door and sees a MILKMAN getting out of his truck in the driveway. RICK (TO MILKMAN) Psst! Hey, you. Milkman! 53. OUTSIDE The milkman looks over at the outhouse, suspicious. MILKMAN Yeah... ? RICK (V.0.) Just the man I'm lookinq for. Be a pal, and give me a hand will ya? MILKMAN Oooh no! I know you freaks. You'll try anything just to get someone to open that door. Well not me! Ha! He's about to walk away. RICK Okay. Guess I'll just have to milk the world's biggest breasted woman all by myself. Sorry to bother you. The milkman stops in his tracks. He tiptoes over to the back door of the outhouse, listening intently as Rick goes into his "act." RICK (in a lusty womanish VOICE) Ooohh... Milk me! Milk me now! Milk me hard! (Normal Rick voice) I've only got two hands, all right? Geez. I don't care if Elijah did give you skim milk on the right side, chocolate on the left, and eggnog in the middle. The milkman is salivating at the door. MILKMAN (TO HIMSELF) Gee, I love eggnog! The milkman opens the door eagerly and steps inside. Beat. MILKMAN Hey, what the-- BONK. We hear the sound of bottled buttermilk beaning his soft noggin. Rick walks out wearing the milkman outfit complete with the little six-milk-bottle-carrier thing. 54. He looks around and heads for the milk truck, whistling casually. He notices something. It's ... THE GIANT ELIJAH HEAD Its big eyes are staring at Rick (note: there's a skywriter plane in the distance behind the head, which finishes writing "YOU GOT THE RIGHT ONE BABY: PEPSI") Rick gets to the truck and tries the door. It's locked. RICK Shit. He looks over at the giant head. The eyes are still staring at him--they seem to have shifted. Rick shrugs it off and looks around. He walks over to Elijah's car. It's locked too. He checks the big eyes. They've moved again. Rick's getting a bit desperate. He sees something else and runs towards it. It's a dry-docked motorboat. It's locked too. The eyes have followed Rick again. He sees something else and runs over to it. It's a bag of golf clubs leaning against Elijah's porch. They're locked too. RICK Damn! This guy doesn't trust anybody! He looks at the giant head- the eyes are gone, leaving only empty eyesockets! Rick hears A BURST OF MACHINEGUN FIRE behind him, spins around and faces ... TWO THREE FOOT HIGH EYEBALLS with little arms and legs, wearing Jamaican Rasta hats and aiming smoking Uzi 9mms in the air. They aim their Uzis at Rick. One holds a walkie-talkie, the other holds a big spliff. RICK AHHHH! A T.V. MONITOR in Elijah's hands, shows Rick staring at us, the Eye's POV. ELIJAH seen in extreme close-up, watches the surveillance monitor. He speaks into a microphone. We don't see what the room looks like. ELIJAH Good work, Eye and Eye. 55. THE EYES bob in response to Elijah. They have no mouths, but their pupils open and close when they speak. EYE AND EYE (JAMAICAN ACCENTS) Rastafari. ELIJAH (V.0.) (over the walkie-talkie) Now bring the Beast Boy to my, uh, den. Ha-ha-ha-ha! Rick looks worried as they lead him towards the scary looking house. INT. ELIJAH'S DEN It's a lovely, suburban den with a coffee table full of magazines like "Better Homes and Gardens," "National Review" and "Freaks Illustrated". Elijah sits in a big Barcalounger, smoking a pipe. Rick sits on the sofa. Toad walks up with a tray of soft drinks. ELIJAH (TO RICK) Diet soda? RICK No thanks. Elijah points to a bowl of Fiddle Faddle. Toad sits beside Rick. ELIJAH Fiddle Faddle? (Rick shakes his head) You sure? RICK Well, okay. (he scoops some into his MOUTH) Well, are you gonna torture me or kill me or something? ELIJAH Torture my greatest creation ever!? Kill the final piece of the puzzle that I've been putting together for years!? Sure, it'd be fun, but I've got a bigger plan, my boy. (MORE) 56. ELIJAH(CONT'D) And when you ripped off that guy's head, I knew it was working like gangbusters! RICK But I thought I scared everyone away. ELIJAH Uh-huh. And then they told two friends, and they told two friends, and so on, and so on. Look at this. Elijah grabs a big mail bag and spills some letters out on the table. Elijah opens one and reads it. ELIJAH (READING) Dear Mister Skuggs, I was shocked and disgusted when my grandson told me about the head-popping beast at your show. Please send me six tickets. (he reads another) Dear Beast Boy, I used to like New Kids on The Block, but you're way cuter. My favorite ice cream is chocolate. Is it fun ripping people's heads off? I love you. (ANOTHER LETTER) The Beast Boy is on a blood-letting spree, and Oscar is along for the ride! (he looks up at Rick) That one's from Pat Collins! RICK Yeah, but she loves everything. Rick reaches for the Fiddle Faddle but the bowl is empty. Toad BURPS. ELIJAH Toad! That Fiddle Faddle is for guests only! You've had enough! Toad is blankfaced. Elijah walks over and refills the bowl. Rick scoops some into his mouth. Elijah walks to the fireplace and pushes the embers around with a poker. RICK Look Skuggs--Elijah--I've been in show business all my life. The public does not want to see disgusting, depraved violent filth. 57. ELIJAH Oh, and I suppose Jake and the Fatman is just a fluke? The phone rings. Elijah looks at it, and back to Rick. ELIJAH (CONT'D) I'll get it. He goes over to the phone and lifts the receiver. ELIJAH `Yello? On the other end of the line, we hear LAUGHING MAN's insane chuckle. Elijah's smooth smile fades. He turns his back to- Rick, who strains to identify the familiar laughing voice. Elijah scribbles notes on a pad by the phone. ELIJAH Yes... Right... Tomorrow... Mmhmm... Mnunhmm... Wow. Okay. You got it... Hasta la vista to you too. Hahaahahaahaha-- Laughing Man hangs up on Elijah. He looks a little pissed- off as he turns to face Rick again. Grumbling, he takes the poker in hand, and pokes at the coals angrily. ELIJAH Okay, Coogan. I'm finished with you for now. Ricky rises and snatches the notepad just before Elijah spins to face him. ELIJAH (CONT'D) But listen. I may not be "Mr. Tinseltown", but I damn well know what I like. You're gonna be a hideous killing machine, and that's final! Tomorrow night I'll finish the job onstage! And then, to demonstrate your horrible power, you'll slaughter all the old obsolete freaks in cold bl--HEY! Elijah thrusts the red hot fire poker out and ZAP! He catches Toad's ten foot tongue--curled around the searing poker inches from the Fiddle Faddle. TOAD AAAGGGGHH! 58. ELIJAH I told you enough! CUT TO: EXT. ELIJAH'S HOUSE DAY Elijah shows Rick out the door. The Eyes scurry out and leap back into the sockets in the giant head. ELIJAH Bye-bye. And remember, try another escape, and I'll feed your balls to Toad. As he walks towards the Freak House, Rick pulls out the note he pocketed. A gust of wind blows it away from him. He chases it behind the carnival tent where... KKCCLIINNK! He runs into ELEVEN PHONY MILKMEN, backing their way around the corner, each carrying their own six-pack of milkbottles. Startled, they turn around. Why, it's the freaks! And they're all dressed as milkmen! Cowboy carries the hammer, who's dressed in a little milkman suit as well. BEARDED LADY Hey Rick, I thought you were gonna come up with your own escape plan? RICK (TO JUAN) This is your big plan? A dozen milkmen? Isn't that a little unusual? Juan hadn't thought of this. He pushes himself forward and confronts Rick viciously. JUAN Twelve milkmen is theoretically possible. Thirteen is silly. Looks like one milkman too many, Coogan. He pushes Rick aside. The freaks continue past him. RICK Fine then. Go ahead. Hope you like reggae, ya flea bitten bastard. Rick watches as the Freaks approach the open courtyard, where he knows the Eyeballs will spot them. 59. Julie glances at him a second, then looks away. His mind made up, Rick takes a deep breath. RICK Ah, shit. He runs over to the Freaks. He stands in Juan's way. RICK Look, you'll all be killed. You don't know about Elijah's giant Rasta eyeballs with machine guns... (they think he's nuts) It's suicide! I can't let you do it. JUAN And I can't let you stop us. This is it. Rick and Juan square off. Juan growls and bares his teeth. Rick's MONSTER EYE starts to glow and pulse dimly. They circle each other. The others are transfixed. ELIJAH'S POV He peers through a side window, and sees the pack of milkmen cheering two of their coworkers, locked in mortal combat. ELIJAH That's a lot of milkmen on the same route. No wonder they fight. Juan rears back, about to lunge, when suddenly he freezes and looks off into the distance. A SQUIRREL is sitting innocently a few yards off. JUAN Squirrel! He zooms off after the squirrel. The Eyes pop out of the giant head and follow after him, Uzis FIRING. Juan dodges their bullets and disappears after his prey. The freaks watch their best chance of freedom run off after a pesky rodent. They turn to Rick. NOSEY Wow, giant Rasta eyeballs, just like Rick said. SOCKHEAD Gosh, if it wasn't for Rick, we'd all be dead! 60. OTHER FREAKS Yeah! Way to go Rick! Alright! ERNIE (TO JULIE) God, I can't believe he left you for a squirrel. What a dick. Julie's hurt. She doesn't even smack Ernie. RICK You know how men are. Besides, it was a pretty good looking squirrel. Julie looks at Rick. She sees he's trying to be helpful, not sarcastic. JULIE (to the others) Come on. You heard the Beast Boy. Back to the Freak House, now. Her eyes meet Rick's. She manages a smile, and Rick smiles back. Ernie sizes up the situation and groans as they all head back to the Freak House. ERNIE Not again. (TO RICK) Oh well, at least we'll get to try a new position. CUT TO: INT. STARK INTERROGATION ROOM We're moving in towards a door in this desolate, vaguely corporate looking hallway. INSIDE THE ROOM We're looking at the back of Laughing Man's leather chair. We hear his CACKLE, as well as STUEY GLUCK'S TORTURED SCREAMS and a horrible POWER TOOL NOISE. We can see the usual bright interrogation spotlight, and a couple of extra GOONS watching the goings on, but Stuey and his actual torturer are hidden by Laughing Man's chair. STUEY (O.S.) AHHHHH! STOP IT! OOOWWWWW! We move past Mr. Big's chair to reveal Stuey lying face down on a table, while Bob Vila is using a power sander on his butt. Bob is happily giving pointers to the two goons. 61. BOB Notice the way I use an elliptical motion to chafe Stuey's buttocks. (the Goons nod ATTENTIVELY) It's all here in my new book: Pipes, Fixtures, and Torturing TROLLS-- LAUGHING MAN(O.S.) (Loud, sharp laugh) A-HA-HA-HAHA-HA-HA-HA! Bob obediently shuts up. Laughing Man directs a sinister low chuckle to Stuey. STUEY No way. I'll never talk! I'm made of stone! Bob considers this a second, then starts up a jackhammer. STUEY HELP! RICK! RIIIIIIIIIICCKKK! CUT TO: INT. FREAK HOUSE - DAY We hear LONESOME HARMONICA MUSIC as we pan past the cubicles. Cowboy is playing the harmonica... The Bearded Lady unties the pretty pink ribbon in his hair and sets it aside... Suddenly, we switch to HORRIFIC PSYCHO STINGS as the camera picks up PAUL LYNDE'S CORPSE with flashing red lights. His eyeball drips out of the socket again... Then it's back to the SAD HARMONICA MUSIC. In the next cubicle, Ernie is sleeping, Julie is awake, dreamily fondling a large eclair. She looks longingly up towards Rick's cubicle as we... DREAM DISSOLVE TO: DREAMLAND Rick (his face is normal) and Julie kiss passionately in a billowy white bed amidst puffy clouds. 62. RICK (SINCERE) Julie, compared to this, sex with Julia Roberts was a thankless chore. QUICK DISSOLVE BACK TO: JULIE' We follow her gaze, panning up to Rick. He's lying on his bed, dreamily fondling a donut. He looks down towards Julie's cabin... DREAM DISSOLVE TO: DREAMLAND Rick and Julie kiss passionately. We're tight on them. JULIE Oh Rick, you've touched a place in me no one has ever touched before. ERNIE(O.S.) I'll say! Almost punctured a kidney! WIDEN to show Ernie, still attached to Julie, leering at Rick. Rick is mortified. QUICK DREAM DISSOLVE TO: INT. FREAK HOUSE - DAY Rick sits in his cubicle, visibly sickened by his daydream. Stuey's echoey voice drifts in. STUEY(V.0.) Rick! Riiiicccck! A holographic image of Stuey lying on the torture table appears over Rick. We can see the jackhammer looming over Stuey's face. Rick looks alarmed. STUEY HOLOGRAM Rick! Do something! It's up to you, Rick! Pleeeeeeease! LAUGHING MAN (O.S) Aha-hee-hee-ho-ho-har-har-har! 63. RICK The Laughing Man! Rick watches the hologram break up and disappear. Wheels spinning in his head, he takes the crumpled piece of paper out of his pocket and reads it. RICK (under his breath) Holy shit! JULIE/ERNIE'S CUBICLE Julie and Ernie are struggling over a bottle of deodorant. ERNIE It says it's strong enough for a man! JULIE But it's made for a woman! She grabs it away and shoves it in Ernie's mouth. Rick walks in. JULIE Hey Rick. What's up? RICK Read this. I grabbed it from Skuggs' office. He hands her the notepaper. She reads it, with some difficulty. Ernie is still gagging on deodorant. JULIE "Tape Donahue... Renew Subscription to Beaver World..." Eeuw! She gives Rick a disgusted look. Ernie mumbles with the deodorant in his mouth. ERNIE (interested, muffled) Beaver World!? Julie smacks him--he swallows the deodorant. RICK (TO JULIE) After that. 64. JULIE "Prepare demonstration for Laughing Man, receive five thousand barrels of Noxon." Five thousand barrels!? RICK Elijah's up to something big, and we have to stop him. Ernie BELCHES. Rick sniffs the air. RICK Mmmm. Jasmine. SWISH PAN TO: INT. FREAK HOUSE - DAY Rick takes a deep breath, and begins his presentation to the freaks assembled before him. RICK Alright guys, listen up-- Sockhead suddenly freaks out. SOCKHEAD We're done for! We're done for! I don't want to die! It's the end of the world! The apocalypse! Aahh! He stops. Everyone is staring at him. RICK I haven't said anything yet. SOCKHEAD Sorry. I'm not much for timing. He takes his seat again. RICK (TO EVERYONE) Tomorrow night, at the show, I'll be turned into a homicidal monster and forced to kill you all. But we might have a chance if we act fast. And I'm prepared to be your new leader. A THRILLING CHORD. 65. NOSEY (TO SOCKHEAD) I say we kill him. Sockhead nods. RICK And I've got a plan. ANOTHER THRILLING CHORD. NOSEY I still say we kill him. Sockhead nods again. RICK If we can get into Elijah's lab, maybe we can-- WORM Of course! Design a super freak of our own and manipulate the genetic code to make him destroy Elijah instead of us! Brilliant! RICK Oh. Well-- BEARDED LADY But how do we get to the lab? RICK Um, maybe-- COWBOY Right! The worm could dig a tunnel! WORM By God, it's so crazy it might just work! ERNIE But you need Noxon 24 to make the freaking sludge, and Elijah told us himself he's run out of it. RICK Oh. Oh yeah. Well, see, what I was going to say was-- 66. JULIE Yes! Exactly! If they've been using Noxon 24 as a fertilizer here, the entire ecosystem must be soaked with it! All we need is a way to extract it from the vegetation, ideally into a liquid form. RICK Right. Well, what about-- COWBOY Golly! So that's why my milk comes out that funny green color! I thought the grass tasted funny! Wow, Rick, you're a genius! JULIE (SMILES WARMLY) Good thinking, Rick. The freaks all nod in agreement. NOSEY Way to go, Rick! How did you ever think of such a plan? Rick pulls out an old comic book and points to an ad for Sea Monkeys. RICK Well, actually, I was going to suggest we send away for sea monkeys, train them to fire guns, and make a break for it. But if you want to go with this other thing, I guess that's okay. The freaks stare at him, not sure if he's kidding or not. CUT TO: INT. FREAK HOUSE - NIGHT FREAKS ON A MISSION MONTAGE, SET TO A POUNDING "EYE OF THE TIGER"-TYPE SONG -Nosey milks Cowboy, squirting the glowing milk into a funnel which feeds into a crude still. The Torch heats the boiler. -The Worm digs the tunnel. JulieErnie hand Rick pieces of wood which he puts into place as tunnel supports. They hand him Paul Lynde's corpse and he wedges it in as well. 67. -Everyone's getting into it and working up a sweat. Nosey wipes his brow, opens a bottle of Pepsi and chugs it down in a beautifully lit slo-mo product shot... The other freaks follow suit, including the Worm, down in the tunnel, who struggles to hold the bottle in his tiny feeler. Everything's going great and the song is really pumping when... ELIJAH runs out on his front porch in his nightclothes and screams down at the outhouse. ELIJAH WOULD YOU TURN DOWN THAT GODDAMN RACKET!? IN THE FREAK HOUSE Nosey turns off a boom box and the music cuts short. The freaks exchange tense looks. Nosey calls out apologetically to Elijah. NOSEY SOR-RY. (to the freaks) What a jerk! INT. UNDERGROUND TUNNEL The Worm burrows along, leaving a tunnel wide enough for Rick and JulieErnie to crawl after him. Rick notices a ray of light coming through a rock formation. RICK Hey, look at this! They all stop and look. Rick fingers the hole, and the rocks cave in, revealing A VAST UNDERGROUND CITY It's obviously a matte painting. WORM Good Lord! It's the Lost City of Nodd! JULIE Wow! 68. KER-CHUNK! We hear the sound of a slide projector switching slides and the underground city is replaced by a still image of some tourists standing around a geyser. [foriegn version: the Blarney Stone]. RICK It's Old Faithful! (foriegn take: "It's the Blarney Stone!"] They "Ooh" and "Ahh". The image switches to a snapshot of a FAT MIDDLE-AGED WOMAN. ERNIE It's my Aunt Gladys! The other freaks nod politely. The image switches to a BAR MITZVAH PHOTO. ERNIE And that's me at my bar mitzvah! RICK C'mon Ernie, let's go. ERNIE Wait, you gotta see the ones from sleep-away camp! They're hilarious! Julie smacks him. JULIE Stooge! EXT. FREAK COMPOUND - NIGHT It's an "Antfarm View" of the yard, where the freaks are visible tunneling underground, and Toad is visible on the yard above them. We see a bat fly overhead... ZAP! Toad shoots out his tongue, snags it out of mid air, and chews it happily, oblivious to the freaks burrowing right underneath him. INT. FREAK HOUSE Nosey looks at the nearly full container of distilled Noxon. NOSEY Almost there. (he sniffs the air) But wait, I'm getting a whiff of things to come! 69. BEARDED LADY What do you smell? NOSEY (GRIM) Blood. Bearded Lady looks grave..Nosey sniffs again. NOSEY (CHEERFUL) And hot buttered popcorn! BEARDED LADY Awwright! INT. TUNNEL They're burrowing along. Ernie loudly clears his throat. Julie spits out a loogie. She grimaces. JULIE I hate when you do that. We hear muffled BARKING. ERNIE Hey! Do you hear that? JULIE It's a dog! RICK (TO WORM) Hurry! The Worm breaks through into a small cavern with several exposed sewer pipes. A lovable mutt leaps out of a pipe and drops an old tennis ball in front of Rick. He starts licking Rick's face. RICK Scrappy! SAPPY MUSIC wells up. RICK It's been ten years since you chased this ball into the sewer! I thought you were gone for good! SCRAPPY Yap! 70. RICK Listen Scrap. Go home. Get help. Understand? SCRAPPY Yap! RICK Good boy! Now go! Scrappy runs away into the sewer pipe. Rick shrugs. RICK You never know. Julie taps on some exposed wood on the cavern ceiling. JULIE Look, a wood floor. WORM It must be the lab! we've done it! They all look at each other excitedly. Suddenly Elijah's voice rings out behind them. ELIJAH'S VOICE Not so fast, you scabrous freaks! They spin around and see Nosey holding the bottle of Noxon 24. He grins. NOSEY Didn't know I did impressions, did ya? INT. FREAK HOUSE The freaks are waiting around the hole. Nosey pops out. NOSEY Mission accomplished. They've got the Noxon, and they'll be in the lab within minutes. FROGMAN Boy, this is going like clockwork! Everyone smiles, pats each other on the back, etc. Except Sockhead, who finally snaps. SOCKHEAD No! Can't you see we're digging our own graves!? (MORE) 71. It's nuts, SOCKHEAD(cont'd) that's what it is! Nuts! Well, maybe you've all got a deathwish, but you can count me out! I'M GETTING THE HELL OUT OF HERE! He runs amok, pushes various freaks to the ground, and runs around screaming. The freak house door opens--Eye and Eye step in to check out the noise. One of them has a spliff sticking out of its pupil. Sockhead charges at them like a mad dog. They aim their Uzis. SOCKHEAD (at the Eyes) OUT OF MY WAY! RATTA-RATTA-RATTA! They spray an ungodly amount of bullets into Sockhead. He falls to the ground. The Eyes leave. The freaks gather around Sockhead. Nosey pulls the sock off his hand head, which is making a little "Senor Pepe" face with its fist. It spits up a trickle of blood and tries to speak. SOCKHEAD (WEAK) I... I... just... wanna...say... NOSEY What is it, kid? SOCKHEAD Ah, forget it. I'm not much for dying. He goes limp. CUT TO: INT. ELIJAH'S LAB JulieErnie, the Worm, and Rick are just emerging from the hole. It's really dark in the lab. ERNIE Shit. I can't see a damn thing. RICK Keep your voice down, Ernie. ERNIE Don't push me, Coog. I got a real short fuse today. I'm cranky, bloated, got a wicked case of cramps. Don't ask why. 72. JULIE (whispers to Rick) PMS... RICK (has to think about this) Oh.... Right. Rick pats Ernie on the shoulder reassuringly. He moves over to Elijah's computer terminal. RICK (CONT'D) Well, here it is--the control panel for Elijah's Freaking process. WORM Good work, my boy. Now step aside. This is scientist's work. Worm muscles Rick out of the way and sits at the console. Using a pen held in his mouth, he flicks a series of switches and punches a fast series of computer keys. The light on top of the Tasty Freekz machine starts to revolve, and after a couple of seconds, a stream of GOOEY LIGHT BROWN GLOP oozes out of the spigot. ERNIE Hey! It's working! RICK You did it, Worm! Way to go! JULIE But how? You didn't even use the Noxon. The Worm rushes over to the container of glop below the spigot, and without hesitation, plunges his face into it! Rick, Julie, and Ernie gasp in horror! The WORM lifts his glop-smeared face out of the bowl, and smacks his

door

How many times the word 'door' appears in the text?

{I'M UGLY} Into this breathing world, scarse half made up, {I'M REALLY UGLY} And that so lamely and unfashionable, That dogs bark at me as I halt by them. {I'M F KIN' BUTT-UGLY, ALRIGHT!?} Why I, in this weak piping time of peace, {BLAH, BLAH, BLAH} Have no delight to pass away the time, {I NEVER GET LAID...} Unless to see my shadow in the sun, And descant on mine own deformity! {BECAUSE I'M UGLY} Rick bows. The crowd bursts into applause. They yell "Bravo" and throw bouquets. Rick takes several curtain calls. The freaks cheer for him. Julie is particularly moved--she and Rick exchange a heavy look, laden with romantic potential. NOTE: We will insert an almost subliminal one-frame shot of the Pepsi logo at this triumphant moment. Kevin, the EES executive from the airport scene, walks into the tent. Rick sees him and gasps with joy. He leaps off the stage, runs up to Kevin and hugs him. Kevin is shocked, of course. Overcome by the moment, Rick regresses to his old self. RICK I'm saved! Haha! You sorry mutants are gonna rot in this hole while I'm sipping mint juleps by the pool! {AS FORTUNE SMILES O'ER MY FATE, SO DESTINY SPURNS YOUR ACCURSE'D PATE} The freaks and the audience gasp at Rick's cruelty. Julie is shocked--Juan gives her an "I told you so" look. Rick sees Julie and catches himself. 49. RICK (TO KEVIN) I mean, um, I hope you have room for all my friends, heh-heh. KEVIN Rick, Rick, listen, I really love this new look you've come up with. But just between you and me, I don't think the guys upstairs would really get it. RICK What are you saying!? KEVIN (CHUCKLES SNIDELY) I'm saying you're ugly enough to burn the nosehairs off a dead nun. The crowd bursts into cruel hysterics, pointing mockingly at Rick. Even Alistair Cooke is practically choking with laughter. ALISTAIR COOKE AH-HA-HA-HA! WHAT A PUTZ! Rick looks around, horrified at the sea of evil, jeering faces. He begins to tremble. Then... RICK'S MONSTER EYE springs to life for the first time and glows red with rage. His whole monster side awakens and takes charge of his body with violent intensity. He grabs Kevin's head and screams in a new, monstrous voice. RICK EAT SHIT! POP! He plucks Kevin's head off his neck and holds it aloft. The head stares down at Rick in disbelief. KEVIN'S HEAD Now you're just being childish. Rick serves the head like a volleyball, smashing it to bits. The crowd panics and charges for the exits. CROWD AHHHHHH! HELP! LET US OUT OF HERE! People are trampling over each other in the mayhem. Alistair Cooke is crushed under the stampede. 50. The freaks are horrified. Monster Rick growls triumphantly. Elijah looks on, intrigued. ELIJAH Now that's entertainment. INT. FREAK HOUSE - MORNING Rick awakens with a start and gets up. He approaches JulieErnie, The Bearded Lady, Nosey and Dog Boy, who are idly playing a game of "Wheel of Fortune." The cubicles contain large blank blocks, like the "letters" on the game show. So far, there's a "D", two "S"s, and a "K" revealed. Rosie the Pinhead plays Vanna White's role. NOSEY I'd like to buy a vowel. The Bearded lady yawns. Rick edges towards them. RICK Hey. The Wheel. Mind if I sit in? Juan advances towards Rick, sneering. JUAN So. Now you don't mind mixing with us--how did you say it--sorry mutants? RICK Look! I'm sorry for what happened at the show. Can't you just forget it? He shakes his finger at Juan, and notices there's still a human nose stuck on his monster claw. He wipes it off, embarrassed. There's an awkward pause. Ernie breaks the silence. ERNIE Hey, shouldn't you tell Rick about your big escape plan? Juan gives Ernie a nasty "shut up" look. He growls at him. ERNIE Well, excuse me for living. RICK You have an escape plan? JUAN Listen, Beast Boy, the games are a simple diversion. (MORE) 51. JUAN(CONT'D) Beneath our twisted flesh we freaks cry out for freedom! Aooooooorrraaaagh! Juan howls lustily. He looks to rest of the freaks. They're a pathetic lot, and their half-hearted howl proves it. FREAKS Aoo... Beat. JULIE Juan's plan is really ingenious Rick. See, he figured out that-- JUAN I figured out that our escape does not include the Beast Boy. No one may discuss the plan with him, understand? Juan gives the others a threatening look. They mumble agreement. RICK What's the matter with all of you? You trust your lives to a guy just 'cause he can lick his own privates? The freaks ponder this a second, then nod "yes". ERNIE You gotta admit, Coog, it's a helluva trick. RICK (RESENTFUL) Fine! I'll just come up with an escape plan of my own then. JUAN Haha! I have spent a year studying this hellhole, devising the perfect escape. You think you'll just tango right out the door!? Ha! Just try it, amigo. RICK I will! Rick turns to go. JulieErnie rush over and try to reason with him quietly. 52. JULIE Rick, wait. ERNIE Yeah. Don't go off half-cocked. Believe me, it ain't all it's cracked up to be. JULIE This isn't one of your dumb movies, Coogan. Look, Juan's a good dog, a smart dog. I'll talk to him. Don't be stupid, Rick. You can't do it without us. RICK Forget it! I don't need you, EES, or anybody else! I'll get out of here all by myself, you... you.,. crud sucking pus monkeys! DING DING DING! The letters in the Wheel of Fortune board light up, and ROSIE turns them over to reveal "Crud Sucking Pus Monkeys" as the secret phrase. Everyone claps despite themselves. Juan stares them down. They stop. Rick storms off in a huff. Juan takes Julie's hand and gazes deep into her eyes. He kisses her passionately. Julie is watching Rick leave. Juan nibbles her neck, which gets her attention. She scratches Juan behind his ear. His leg instinctively kicks the air. Ernie looks worried. ERNIE I'm getting a bad feeling here. CUT TO: INT. REAR CORNER OF FREAK HOUSE - DAY Out of sight from the others, Rick approaches the rear door and tries it. It doesn't open from the inside. RICK Damn. He peers out through a crack in the door and sees a MILKMAN getting out of his truck in the driveway. RICK (TO MILKMAN) Psst! Hey, you. Milkman! 53. OUTSIDE The milkman looks over at the outhouse, suspicious. MILKMAN Yeah... ? RICK (V.0.) Just the man I'm lookinq for. Be a pal, and give me a hand will ya? MILKMAN Oooh no! I know you freaks. You'll try anything just to get someone to open that door. Well not me! Ha! He's about to walk away. RICK Okay. Guess I'll just have to milk the world's biggest breasted woman all by myself. Sorry to bother you. The milkman stops in his tracks. He tiptoes over to the back door of the outhouse, listening intently as Rick goes into his "act." RICK (in a lusty womanish VOICE) Ooohh... Milk me! Milk me now! Milk me hard! (Normal Rick voice) I've only got two hands, all right? Geez. I don't care if Elijah did give you skim milk on the right side, chocolate on the left, and eggnog in the middle. The milkman is salivating at the door. MILKMAN (TO HIMSELF) Gee, I love eggnog! The milkman opens the door eagerly and steps inside. Beat. MILKMAN Hey, what the-- BONK. We hear the sound of bottled buttermilk beaning his soft noggin. Rick walks out wearing the milkman outfit complete with the little six-milk-bottle-carrier thing. 54. He looks around and heads for the milk truck, whistling casually. He notices something. It's ... THE GIANT ELIJAH HEAD Its big eyes are staring at Rick (note: there's a skywriter plane in the distance behind the head, which finishes writing "YOU GOT THE RIGHT ONE BABY: PEPSI") Rick gets to the truck and tries the door. It's locked. RICK Shit. He looks over at the giant head. The eyes are still staring at him--they seem to have shifted. Rick shrugs it off and looks around. He walks over to Elijah's car. It's locked too. He checks the big eyes. They've moved again. Rick's getting a bit desperate. He sees something else and runs towards it. It's a dry-docked motorboat. It's locked too. The eyes have followed Rick again. He sees something else and runs over to it. It's a bag of golf clubs leaning against Elijah's porch. They're locked too. RICK Damn! This guy doesn't trust anybody! He looks at the giant head- the eyes are gone, leaving only empty eyesockets! Rick hears A BURST OF MACHINEGUN FIRE behind him, spins around and faces ... TWO THREE FOOT HIGH EYEBALLS with little arms and legs, wearing Jamaican Rasta hats and aiming smoking Uzi 9mms in the air. They aim their Uzis at Rick. One holds a walkie-talkie, the other holds a big spliff. RICK AHHHH! A T.V. MONITOR in Elijah's hands, shows Rick staring at us, the Eye's POV. ELIJAH seen in extreme close-up, watches the surveillance monitor. He speaks into a microphone. We don't see what the room looks like. ELIJAH Good work, Eye and Eye. 55. THE EYES bob in response to Elijah. They have no mouths, but their pupils open and close when they speak. EYE AND EYE (JAMAICAN ACCENTS) Rastafari. ELIJAH (V.0.) (over the walkie-talkie) Now bring the Beast Boy to my, uh, den. Ha-ha-ha-ha! Rick looks worried as they lead him towards the scary looking house. INT. ELIJAH'S DEN It's a lovely, suburban den with a coffee table full of magazines like "Better Homes and Gardens," "National Review" and "Freaks Illustrated". Elijah sits in a big Barcalounger, smoking a pipe. Rick sits on the sofa. Toad walks up with a tray of soft drinks. ELIJAH (TO RICK) Diet soda? RICK No thanks. Elijah points to a bowl of Fiddle Faddle. Toad sits beside Rick. ELIJAH Fiddle Faddle? (Rick shakes his head) You sure? RICK Well, okay. (he scoops some into his MOUTH) Well, are you gonna torture me or kill me or something? ELIJAH Torture my greatest creation ever!? Kill the final piece of the puzzle that I've been putting together for years!? Sure, it'd be fun, but I've got a bigger plan, my boy. (MORE) 56. ELIJAH(CONT'D) And when you ripped off that guy's head, I knew it was working like gangbusters! RICK But I thought I scared everyone away. ELIJAH Uh-huh. And then they told two friends, and they told two friends, and so on, and so on. Look at this. Elijah grabs a big mail bag and spills some letters out on the table. Elijah opens one and reads it. ELIJAH (READING) Dear Mister Skuggs, I was shocked and disgusted when my grandson told me about the head-popping beast at your show. Please send me six tickets. (he reads another) Dear Beast Boy, I used to like New Kids on The Block, but you're way cuter. My favorite ice cream is chocolate. Is it fun ripping people's heads off? I love you. (ANOTHER LETTER) The Beast Boy is on a blood-letting spree, and Oscar is along for the ride! (he looks up at Rick) That one's from Pat Collins! RICK Yeah, but she loves everything. Rick reaches for the Fiddle Faddle but the bowl is empty. Toad BURPS. ELIJAH Toad! That Fiddle Faddle is for guests only! You've had enough! Toad is blankfaced. Elijah walks over and refills the bowl. Rick scoops some into his mouth. Elijah walks to the fireplace and pushes the embers around with a poker. RICK Look Skuggs--Elijah--I've been in show business all my life. The public does not want to see disgusting, depraved violent filth. 57. ELIJAH Oh, and I suppose Jake and the Fatman is just a fluke? The phone rings. Elijah looks at it, and back to Rick. ELIJAH (CONT'D) I'll get it. He goes over to the phone and lifts the receiver. ELIJAH `Yello? On the other end of the line, we hear LAUGHING MAN's insane chuckle. Elijah's smooth smile fades. He turns his back to- Rick, who strains to identify the familiar laughing voice. Elijah scribbles notes on a pad by the phone. ELIJAH Yes... Right... Tomorrow... Mmhmm... Mnunhmm... Wow. Okay. You got it... Hasta la vista to you too. Hahaahahaahaha-- Laughing Man hangs up on Elijah. He looks a little pissed- off as he turns to face Rick again. Grumbling, he takes the poker in hand, and pokes at the coals angrily. ELIJAH Okay, Coogan. I'm finished with you for now. Ricky rises and snatches the notepad just before Elijah spins to face him. ELIJAH (CONT'D) But listen. I may not be "Mr. Tinseltown", but I damn well know what I like. You're gonna be a hideous killing machine, and that's final! Tomorrow night I'll finish the job onstage! And then, to demonstrate your horrible power, you'll slaughter all the old obsolete freaks in cold bl--HEY! Elijah thrusts the red hot fire poker out and ZAP! He catches Toad's ten foot tongue--curled around the searing poker inches from the Fiddle Faddle. TOAD AAAGGGGHH! 58. ELIJAH I told you enough! CUT TO: EXT. ELIJAH'S HOUSE DAY Elijah shows Rick out the door. The Eyes scurry out and leap back into the sockets in the giant head. ELIJAH Bye-bye. And remember, try another escape, and I'll feed your balls to Toad. As he walks towards the Freak House, Rick pulls out the note he pocketed. A gust of wind blows it away from him. He chases it behind the carnival tent where... KKCCLIINNK! He runs into ELEVEN PHONY MILKMEN, backing their way around the corner, each carrying their own six-pack of milkbottles. Startled, they turn around. Why, it's the freaks! And they're all dressed as milkmen! Cowboy carries the hammer, who's dressed in a little milkman suit as well. BEARDED LADY Hey Rick, I thought you were gonna come up with your own escape plan? RICK (TO JUAN) This is your big plan? A dozen milkmen? Isn't that a little unusual? Juan hadn't thought of this. He pushes himself forward and confronts Rick viciously. JUAN Twelve milkmen is theoretically possible. Thirteen is silly. Looks like one milkman too many, Coogan. He pushes Rick aside. The freaks continue past him. RICK Fine then. Go ahead. Hope you like reggae, ya flea bitten bastard. Rick watches as the Freaks approach the open courtyard, where he knows the Eyeballs will spot them. 59. Julie glances at him a second, then looks away. His mind made up, Rick takes a deep breath. RICK Ah, shit. He runs over to the Freaks. He stands in Juan's way. RICK Look, you'll all be killed. You don't know about Elijah's giant Rasta eyeballs with machine guns... (they think he's nuts) It's suicide! I can't let you do it. JUAN And I can't let you stop us. This is it. Rick and Juan square off. Juan growls and bares his teeth. Rick's MONSTER EYE starts to glow and pulse dimly. They circle each other. The others are transfixed. ELIJAH'S POV He peers through a side window, and sees the pack of milkmen cheering two of their coworkers, locked in mortal combat. ELIJAH That's a lot of milkmen on the same route. No wonder they fight. Juan rears back, about to lunge, when suddenly he freezes and looks off into the distance. A SQUIRREL is sitting innocently a few yards off. JUAN Squirrel! He zooms off after the squirrel. The Eyes pop out of the giant head and follow after him, Uzis FIRING. Juan dodges their bullets and disappears after his prey. The freaks watch their best chance of freedom run off after a pesky rodent. They turn to Rick. NOSEY Wow, giant Rasta eyeballs, just like Rick said. SOCKHEAD Gosh, if it wasn't for Rick, we'd all be dead! 60. OTHER FREAKS Yeah! Way to go Rick! Alright! ERNIE (TO JULIE) God, I can't believe he left you for a squirrel. What a dick. Julie's hurt. She doesn't even smack Ernie. RICK You know how men are. Besides, it was a pretty good looking squirrel. Julie looks at Rick. She sees he's trying to be helpful, not sarcastic. JULIE (to the others) Come on. You heard the Beast Boy. Back to the Freak House, now. Her eyes meet Rick's. She manages a smile, and Rick smiles back. Ernie sizes up the situation and groans as they all head back to the Freak House. ERNIE Not again. (TO RICK) Oh well, at least we'll get to try a new position. CUT TO: INT. STARK INTERROGATION ROOM We're moving in towards a door in this desolate, vaguely corporate looking hallway. INSIDE THE ROOM We're looking at the back of Laughing Man's leather chair. We hear his CACKLE, as well as STUEY GLUCK'S TORTURED SCREAMS and a horrible POWER TOOL NOISE. We can see the usual bright interrogation spotlight, and a couple of extra GOONS watching the goings on, but Stuey and his actual torturer are hidden by Laughing Man's chair. STUEY (O.S.) AHHHHH! STOP IT! OOOWWWWW! We move past Mr. Big's chair to reveal Stuey lying face down on a table, while Bob Vila is using a power sander on his butt. Bob is happily giving pointers to the two goons. 61. BOB Notice the way I use an elliptical motion to chafe Stuey's buttocks. (the Goons nod ATTENTIVELY) It's all here in my new book: Pipes, Fixtures, and Torturing TROLLS-- LAUGHING MAN(O.S.) (Loud, sharp laugh) A-HA-HA-HAHA-HA-HA-HA! Bob obediently shuts up. Laughing Man directs a sinister low chuckle to Stuey. STUEY No way. I'll never talk! I'm made of stone! Bob considers this a second, then starts up a jackhammer. STUEY HELP! RICK! RIIIIIIIIIICCKKK! CUT TO: INT. FREAK HOUSE - DAY We hear LONESOME HARMONICA MUSIC as we pan past the cubicles. Cowboy is playing the harmonica... The Bearded Lady unties the pretty pink ribbon in his hair and sets it aside... Suddenly, we switch to HORRIFIC PSYCHO STINGS as the camera picks up PAUL LYNDE'S CORPSE with flashing red lights. His eyeball drips out of the socket again... Then it's back to the SAD HARMONICA MUSIC. In the next cubicle, Ernie is sleeping, Julie is awake, dreamily fondling a large eclair. She looks longingly up towards Rick's cubicle as we... DREAM DISSOLVE TO: DREAMLAND Rick (his face is normal) and Julie kiss passionately in a billowy white bed amidst puffy clouds. 62. RICK (SINCERE) Julie, compared to this, sex with Julia Roberts was a thankless chore. QUICK DISSOLVE BACK TO: JULIE' We follow her gaze, panning up to Rick. He's lying on his bed, dreamily fondling a donut. He looks down towards Julie's cabin... DREAM DISSOLVE TO: DREAMLAND Rick and Julie kiss passionately. We're tight on them. JULIE Oh Rick, you've touched a place in me no one has ever touched before. ERNIE(O.S.) I'll say! Almost punctured a kidney! WIDEN to show Ernie, still attached to Julie, leering at Rick. Rick is mortified. QUICK DREAM DISSOLVE TO: INT. FREAK HOUSE - DAY Rick sits in his cubicle, visibly sickened by his daydream. Stuey's echoey voice drifts in. STUEY(V.0.) Rick! Riiiicccck! A holographic image of Stuey lying on the torture table appears over Rick. We can see the jackhammer looming over Stuey's face. Rick looks alarmed. STUEY HOLOGRAM Rick! Do something! It's up to you, Rick! Pleeeeeeease! LAUGHING MAN (O.S) Aha-hee-hee-ho-ho-har-har-har! 63. RICK The Laughing Man! Rick watches the hologram break up and disappear. Wheels spinning in his head, he takes the crumpled piece of paper out of his pocket and reads it. RICK (under his breath) Holy shit! JULIE/ERNIE'S CUBICLE Julie and Ernie are struggling over a bottle of deodorant. ERNIE It says it's strong enough for a man! JULIE But it's made for a woman! She grabs it away and shoves it in Ernie's mouth. Rick walks in. JULIE Hey Rick. What's up? RICK Read this. I grabbed it from Skuggs' office. He hands her the notepaper. She reads it, with some difficulty. Ernie is still gagging on deodorant. JULIE "Tape Donahue... Renew Subscription to Beaver World..." Eeuw! She gives Rick a disgusted look. Ernie mumbles with the deodorant in his mouth. ERNIE (interested, muffled) Beaver World!? Julie smacks him--he swallows the deodorant. RICK (TO JULIE) After that. 64. JULIE "Prepare demonstration for Laughing Man, receive five thousand barrels of Noxon." Five thousand barrels!? RICK Elijah's up to something big, and we have to stop him. Ernie BELCHES. Rick sniffs the air. RICK Mmmm. Jasmine. SWISH PAN TO: INT. FREAK HOUSE - DAY Rick takes a deep breath, and begins his presentation to the freaks assembled before him. RICK Alright guys, listen up-- Sockhead suddenly freaks out. SOCKHEAD We're done for! We're done for! I don't want to die! It's the end of the world! The apocalypse! Aahh! He stops. Everyone is staring at him. RICK I haven't said anything yet. SOCKHEAD Sorry. I'm not much for timing. He takes his seat again. RICK (TO EVERYONE) Tomorrow night, at the show, I'll be turned into a homicidal monster and forced to kill you all. But we might have a chance if we act fast. And I'm prepared to be your new leader. A THRILLING CHORD. 65. NOSEY (TO SOCKHEAD) I say we kill him. Sockhead nods. RICK And I've got a plan. ANOTHER THRILLING CHORD. NOSEY I still say we kill him. Sockhead nods again. RICK If we can get into Elijah's lab, maybe we can-- WORM Of course! Design a super freak of our own and manipulate the genetic code to make him destroy Elijah instead of us! Brilliant! RICK Oh. Well-- BEARDED LADY But how do we get to the lab? RICK Um, maybe-- COWBOY Right! The worm could dig a tunnel! WORM By God, it's so crazy it might just work! ERNIE But you need Noxon 24 to make the freaking sludge, and Elijah told us himself he's run out of it. RICK Oh. Oh yeah. Well, see, what I was going to say was-- 66. JULIE Yes! Exactly! If they've been using Noxon 24 as a fertilizer here, the entire ecosystem must be soaked with it! All we need is a way to extract it from the vegetation, ideally into a liquid form. RICK Right. Well, what about-- COWBOY Golly! So that's why my milk comes out that funny green color! I thought the grass tasted funny! Wow, Rick, you're a genius! JULIE (SMILES WARMLY) Good thinking, Rick. The freaks all nod in agreement. NOSEY Way to go, Rick! How did you ever think of such a plan? Rick pulls out an old comic book and points to an ad for Sea Monkeys. RICK Well, actually, I was going to suggest we send away for sea monkeys, train them to fire guns, and make a break for it. But if you want to go with this other thing, I guess that's okay. The freaks stare at him, not sure if he's kidding or not. CUT TO: INT. FREAK HOUSE - NIGHT FREAKS ON A MISSION MONTAGE, SET TO A POUNDING "EYE OF THE TIGER"-TYPE SONG -Nosey milks Cowboy, squirting the glowing milk into a funnel which feeds into a crude still. The Torch heats the boiler. -The Worm digs the tunnel. JulieErnie hand Rick pieces of wood which he puts into place as tunnel supports. They hand him Paul Lynde's corpse and he wedges it in as well. 67. -Everyone's getting into it and working up a sweat. Nosey wipes his brow, opens a bottle of Pepsi and chugs it down in a beautifully lit slo-mo product shot... The other freaks follow suit, including the Worm, down in the tunnel, who struggles to hold the bottle in his tiny feeler. Everything's going great and the song is really pumping when... ELIJAH runs out on his front porch in his nightclothes and screams down at the outhouse. ELIJAH WOULD YOU TURN DOWN THAT GODDAMN RACKET!? IN THE FREAK HOUSE Nosey turns off a boom box and the music cuts short. The freaks exchange tense looks. Nosey calls out apologetically to Elijah. NOSEY SOR-RY. (to the freaks) What a jerk! INT. UNDERGROUND TUNNEL The Worm burrows along, leaving a tunnel wide enough for Rick and JulieErnie to crawl after him. Rick notices a ray of light coming through a rock formation. RICK Hey, look at this! They all stop and look. Rick fingers the hole, and the rocks cave in, revealing A VAST UNDERGROUND CITY It's obviously a matte painting. WORM Good Lord! It's the Lost City of Nodd! JULIE Wow! 68. KER-CHUNK! We hear the sound of a slide projector switching slides and the underground city is replaced by a still image of some tourists standing around a geyser. [foriegn version: the Blarney Stone]. RICK It's Old Faithful! (foriegn take: "It's the Blarney Stone!"] They "Ooh" and "Ahh". The image switches to a snapshot of a FAT MIDDLE-AGED WOMAN. ERNIE It's my Aunt Gladys! The other freaks nod politely. The image switches to a BAR MITZVAH PHOTO. ERNIE And that's me at my bar mitzvah! RICK C'mon Ernie, let's go. ERNIE Wait, you gotta see the ones from sleep-away camp! They're hilarious! Julie smacks him. JULIE Stooge! EXT. FREAK COMPOUND - NIGHT It's an "Antfarm View" of the yard, where the freaks are visible tunneling underground, and Toad is visible on the yard above them. We see a bat fly overhead... ZAP! Toad shoots out his tongue, snags it out of mid air, and chews it happily, oblivious to the freaks burrowing right underneath him. INT. FREAK HOUSE Nosey looks at the nearly full container of distilled Noxon. NOSEY Almost there. (he sniffs the air) But wait, I'm getting a whiff of things to come! 69. BEARDED LADY What do you smell? NOSEY (GRIM) Blood. Bearded Lady looks grave..Nosey sniffs again. NOSEY (CHEERFUL) And hot buttered popcorn! BEARDED LADY Awwright! INT. TUNNEL They're burrowing along. Ernie loudly clears his throat. Julie spits out a loogie. She grimaces. JULIE I hate when you do that. We hear muffled BARKING. ERNIE Hey! Do you hear that? JULIE It's a dog! RICK (TO WORM) Hurry! The Worm breaks through into a small cavern with several exposed sewer pipes. A lovable mutt leaps out of a pipe and drops an old tennis ball in front of Rick. He starts licking Rick's face. RICK Scrappy! SAPPY MUSIC wells up. RICK It's been ten years since you chased this ball into the sewer! I thought you were gone for good! SCRAPPY Yap! 70. RICK Listen Scrap. Go home. Get help. Understand? SCRAPPY Yap! RICK Good boy! Now go! Scrappy runs away into the sewer pipe. Rick shrugs. RICK You never know. Julie taps on some exposed wood on the cavern ceiling. JULIE Look, a wood floor. WORM It must be the lab! we've done it! They all look at each other excitedly. Suddenly Elijah's voice rings out behind them. ELIJAH'S VOICE Not so fast, you scabrous freaks! They spin around and see Nosey holding the bottle of Noxon 24. He grins. NOSEY Didn't know I did impressions, did ya? INT. FREAK HOUSE The freaks are waiting around the hole. Nosey pops out. NOSEY Mission accomplished. They've got the Noxon, and they'll be in the lab within minutes. FROGMAN Boy, this is going like clockwork! Everyone smiles, pats each other on the back, etc. Except Sockhead, who finally snaps. SOCKHEAD No! Can't you see we're digging our own graves!? (MORE) 71. It's nuts, SOCKHEAD(cont'd) that's what it is! Nuts! Well, maybe you've all got a deathwish, but you can count me out! I'M GETTING THE HELL OUT OF HERE! He runs amok, pushes various freaks to the ground, and runs around screaming. The freak house door opens--Eye and Eye step in to check out the noise. One of them has a spliff sticking out of its pupil. Sockhead charges at them like a mad dog. They aim their Uzis. SOCKHEAD (at the Eyes) OUT OF MY WAY! RATTA-RATTA-RATTA! They spray an ungodly amount of bullets into Sockhead. He falls to the ground. The Eyes leave. The freaks gather around Sockhead. Nosey pulls the sock off his hand head, which is making a little "Senor Pepe" face with its fist. It spits up a trickle of blood and tries to speak. SOCKHEAD (WEAK) I... I... just... wanna...say... NOSEY What is it, kid? SOCKHEAD Ah, forget it. I'm not much for dying. He goes limp. CUT TO: INT. ELIJAH'S LAB JulieErnie, the Worm, and Rick are just emerging from the hole. It's really dark in the lab. ERNIE Shit. I can't see a damn thing. RICK Keep your voice down, Ernie. ERNIE Don't push me, Coog. I got a real short fuse today. I'm cranky, bloated, got a wicked case of cramps. Don't ask why. 72. JULIE (whispers to Rick) PMS... RICK (has to think about this) Oh.... Right. Rick pats Ernie on the shoulder reassuringly. He moves over to Elijah's computer terminal. RICK (CONT'D) Well, here it is--the control panel for Elijah's Freaking process. WORM Good work, my boy. Now step aside. This is scientist's work. Worm muscles Rick out of the way and sits at the console. Using a pen held in his mouth, he flicks a series of switches and punches a fast series of computer keys. The light on top of the Tasty Freekz machine starts to revolve, and after a couple of seconds, a stream of GOOEY LIGHT BROWN GLOP oozes out of the spigot. ERNIE Hey! It's working! RICK You did it, Worm! Way to go! JULIE But how? You didn't even use the Noxon. The Worm rushes over to the container of glop below the spigot, and without hesitation, plunges his face into it! Rick, Julie, and Ernie gasp in horror! The WORM lifts his glop-smeared face out of the bowl, and smacks his

there

How many times the word 'there' appears in the text?

{I'M UGLY} Into this breathing world, scarse half made up, {I'M REALLY UGLY} And that so lamely and unfashionable, That dogs bark at me as I halt by them. {I'M F KIN' BUTT-UGLY, ALRIGHT!?} Why I, in this weak piping time of peace, {BLAH, BLAH, BLAH} Have no delight to pass away the time, {I NEVER GET LAID...} Unless to see my shadow in the sun, And descant on mine own deformity! {BECAUSE I'M UGLY} Rick bows. The crowd bursts into applause. They yell "Bravo" and throw bouquets. Rick takes several curtain calls. The freaks cheer for him. Julie is particularly moved--she and Rick exchange a heavy look, laden with romantic potential. NOTE: We will insert an almost subliminal one-frame shot of the Pepsi logo at this triumphant moment. Kevin, the EES executive from the airport scene, walks into the tent. Rick sees him and gasps with joy. He leaps off the stage, runs up to Kevin and hugs him. Kevin is shocked, of course. Overcome by the moment, Rick regresses to his old self. RICK I'm saved! Haha! You sorry mutants are gonna rot in this hole while I'm sipping mint juleps by the pool! {AS FORTUNE SMILES O'ER MY FATE, SO DESTINY SPURNS YOUR ACCURSE'D PATE} The freaks and the audience gasp at Rick's cruelty. Julie is shocked--Juan gives her an "I told you so" look. Rick sees Julie and catches himself. 49. RICK (TO KEVIN) I mean, um, I hope you have room for all my friends, heh-heh. KEVIN Rick, Rick, listen, I really love this new look you've come up with. But just between you and me, I don't think the guys upstairs would really get it. RICK What are you saying!? KEVIN (CHUCKLES SNIDELY) I'm saying you're ugly enough to burn the nosehairs off a dead nun. The crowd bursts into cruel hysterics, pointing mockingly at Rick. Even Alistair Cooke is practically choking with laughter. ALISTAIR COOKE AH-HA-HA-HA! WHAT A PUTZ! Rick looks around, horrified at the sea of evil, jeering faces. He begins to tremble. Then... RICK'S MONSTER EYE springs to life for the first time and glows red with rage. His whole monster side awakens and takes charge of his body with violent intensity. He grabs Kevin's head and screams in a new, monstrous voice. RICK EAT SHIT! POP! He plucks Kevin's head off his neck and holds it aloft. The head stares down at Rick in disbelief. KEVIN'S HEAD Now you're just being childish. Rick serves the head like a volleyball, smashing it to bits. The crowd panics and charges for the exits. CROWD AHHHHHH! HELP! LET US OUT OF HERE! People are trampling over each other in the mayhem. Alistair Cooke is crushed under the stampede. 50. The freaks are horrified. Monster Rick growls triumphantly. Elijah looks on, intrigued. ELIJAH Now that's entertainment. INT. FREAK HOUSE - MORNING Rick awakens with a start and gets up. He approaches JulieErnie, The Bearded Lady, Nosey and Dog Boy, who are idly playing a game of "Wheel of Fortune." The cubicles contain large blank blocks, like the "letters" on the game show. So far, there's a "D", two "S"s, and a "K" revealed. Rosie the Pinhead plays Vanna White's role. NOSEY I'd like to buy a vowel. The Bearded lady yawns. Rick edges towards them. RICK Hey. The Wheel. Mind if I sit in? Juan advances towards Rick, sneering. JUAN So. Now you don't mind mixing with us--how did you say it--sorry mutants? RICK Look! I'm sorry for what happened at the show. Can't you just forget it? He shakes his finger at Juan, and notices there's still a human nose stuck on his monster claw. He wipes it off, embarrassed. There's an awkward pause. Ernie breaks the silence. ERNIE Hey, shouldn't you tell Rick about your big escape plan? Juan gives Ernie a nasty "shut up" look. He growls at him. ERNIE Well, excuse me for living. RICK You have an escape plan? JUAN Listen, Beast Boy, the games are a simple diversion. (MORE) 51. JUAN(CONT'D) Beneath our twisted flesh we freaks cry out for freedom! Aooooooorrraaaagh! Juan howls lustily. He looks to rest of the freaks. They're a pathetic lot, and their half-hearted howl proves it. FREAKS Aoo... Beat. JULIE Juan's plan is really ingenious Rick. See, he figured out that-- JUAN I figured out that our escape does not include the Beast Boy. No one may discuss the plan with him, understand? Juan gives the others a threatening look. They mumble agreement. RICK What's the matter with all of you? You trust your lives to a guy just 'cause he can lick his own privates? The freaks ponder this a second, then nod "yes". ERNIE You gotta admit, Coog, it's a helluva trick. RICK (RESENTFUL) Fine! I'll just come up with an escape plan of my own then. JUAN Haha! I have spent a year studying this hellhole, devising the perfect escape. You think you'll just tango right out the door!? Ha! Just try it, amigo. RICK I will! Rick turns to go. JulieErnie rush over and try to reason with him quietly. 52. JULIE Rick, wait. ERNIE Yeah. Don't go off half-cocked. Believe me, it ain't all it's cracked up to be. JULIE This isn't one of your dumb movies, Coogan. Look, Juan's a good dog, a smart dog. I'll talk to him. Don't be stupid, Rick. You can't do it without us. RICK Forget it! I don't need you, EES, or anybody else! I'll get out of here all by myself, you... you.,. crud sucking pus monkeys! DING DING DING! The letters in the Wheel of Fortune board light up, and ROSIE turns them over to reveal "Crud Sucking Pus Monkeys" as the secret phrase. Everyone claps despite themselves. Juan stares them down. They stop. Rick storms off in a huff. Juan takes Julie's hand and gazes deep into her eyes. He kisses her passionately. Julie is watching Rick leave. Juan nibbles her neck, which gets her attention. She scratches Juan behind his ear. His leg instinctively kicks the air. Ernie looks worried. ERNIE I'm getting a bad feeling here. CUT TO: INT. REAR CORNER OF FREAK HOUSE - DAY Out of sight from the others, Rick approaches the rear door and tries it. It doesn't open from the inside. RICK Damn. He peers out through a crack in the door and sees a MILKMAN getting out of his truck in the driveway. RICK (TO MILKMAN) Psst! Hey, you. Milkman! 53. OUTSIDE The milkman looks over at the outhouse, suspicious. MILKMAN Yeah... ? RICK (V.0.) Just the man I'm lookinq for. Be a pal, and give me a hand will ya? MILKMAN Oooh no! I know you freaks. You'll try anything just to get someone to open that door. Well not me! Ha! He's about to walk away. RICK Okay. Guess I'll just have to milk the world's biggest breasted woman all by myself. Sorry to bother you. The milkman stops in his tracks. He tiptoes over to the back door of the outhouse, listening intently as Rick goes into his "act." RICK (in a lusty womanish VOICE) Ooohh... Milk me! Milk me now! Milk me hard! (Normal Rick voice) I've only got two hands, all right? Geez. I don't care if Elijah did give you skim milk on the right side, chocolate on the left, and eggnog in the middle. The milkman is salivating at the door. MILKMAN (TO HIMSELF) Gee, I love eggnog! The milkman opens the door eagerly and steps inside. Beat. MILKMAN Hey, what the-- BONK. We hear the sound of bottled buttermilk beaning his soft noggin. Rick walks out wearing the milkman outfit complete with the little six-milk-bottle-carrier thing. 54. He looks around and heads for the milk truck, whistling casually. He notices something. It's ... THE GIANT ELIJAH HEAD Its big eyes are staring at Rick (note: there's a skywriter plane in the distance behind the head, which finishes writing "YOU GOT THE RIGHT ONE BABY: PEPSI") Rick gets to the truck and tries the door. It's locked. RICK Shit. He looks over at the giant head. The eyes are still staring at him--they seem to have shifted. Rick shrugs it off and looks around. He walks over to Elijah's car. It's locked too. He checks the big eyes. They've moved again. Rick's getting a bit desperate. He sees something else and runs towards it. It's a dry-docked motorboat. It's locked too. The eyes have followed Rick again. He sees something else and runs over to it. It's a bag of golf clubs leaning against Elijah's porch. They're locked too. RICK Damn! This guy doesn't trust anybody! He looks at the giant head- the eyes are gone, leaving only empty eyesockets! Rick hears A BURST OF MACHINEGUN FIRE behind him, spins around and faces ... TWO THREE FOOT HIGH EYEBALLS with little arms and legs, wearing Jamaican Rasta hats and aiming smoking Uzi 9mms in the air. They aim their Uzis at Rick. One holds a walkie-talkie, the other holds a big spliff. RICK AHHHH! A T.V. MONITOR in Elijah's hands, shows Rick staring at us, the Eye's POV. ELIJAH seen in extreme close-up, watches the surveillance monitor. He speaks into a microphone. We don't see what the room looks like. ELIJAH Good work, Eye and Eye. 55. THE EYES bob in response to Elijah. They have no mouths, but their pupils open and close when they speak. EYE AND EYE (JAMAICAN ACCENTS) Rastafari. ELIJAH (V.0.) (over the walkie-talkie) Now bring the Beast Boy to my, uh, den. Ha-ha-ha-ha! Rick looks worried as they lead him towards the scary looking house. INT. ELIJAH'S DEN It's a lovely, suburban den with a coffee table full of magazines like "Better Homes and Gardens," "National Review" and "Freaks Illustrated". Elijah sits in a big Barcalounger, smoking a pipe. Rick sits on the sofa. Toad walks up with a tray of soft drinks. ELIJAH (TO RICK) Diet soda? RICK No thanks. Elijah points to a bowl of Fiddle Faddle. Toad sits beside Rick. ELIJAH Fiddle Faddle? (Rick shakes his head) You sure? RICK Well, okay. (he scoops some into his MOUTH) Well, are you gonna torture me or kill me or something? ELIJAH Torture my greatest creation ever!? Kill the final piece of the puzzle that I've been putting together for years!? Sure, it'd be fun, but I've got a bigger plan, my boy. (MORE) 56. ELIJAH(CONT'D) And when you ripped off that guy's head, I knew it was working like gangbusters! RICK But I thought I scared everyone away. ELIJAH Uh-huh. And then they told two friends, and they told two friends, and so on, and so on. Look at this. Elijah grabs a big mail bag and spills some letters out on the table. Elijah opens one and reads it. ELIJAH (READING) Dear Mister Skuggs, I was shocked and disgusted when my grandson told me about the head-popping beast at your show. Please send me six tickets. (he reads another) Dear Beast Boy, I used to like New Kids on The Block, but you're way cuter. My favorite ice cream is chocolate. Is it fun ripping people's heads off? I love you. (ANOTHER LETTER) The Beast Boy is on a blood-letting spree, and Oscar is along for the ride! (he looks up at Rick) That one's from Pat Collins! RICK Yeah, but she loves everything. Rick reaches for the Fiddle Faddle but the bowl is empty. Toad BURPS. ELIJAH Toad! That Fiddle Faddle is for guests only! You've had enough! Toad is blankfaced. Elijah walks over and refills the bowl. Rick scoops some into his mouth. Elijah walks to the fireplace and pushes the embers around with a poker. RICK Look Skuggs--Elijah--I've been in show business all my life. The public does not want to see disgusting, depraved violent filth. 57. ELIJAH Oh, and I suppose Jake and the Fatman is just a fluke? The phone rings. Elijah looks at it, and back to Rick. ELIJAH (CONT'D) I'll get it. He goes over to the phone and lifts the receiver. ELIJAH `Yello? On the other end of the line, we hear LAUGHING MAN's insane chuckle. Elijah's smooth smile fades. He turns his back to- Rick, who strains to identify the familiar laughing voice. Elijah scribbles notes on a pad by the phone. ELIJAH Yes... Right... Tomorrow... Mmhmm... Mnunhmm... Wow. Okay. You got it... Hasta la vista to you too. Hahaahahaahaha-- Laughing Man hangs up on Elijah. He looks a little pissed- off as he turns to face Rick again. Grumbling, he takes the poker in hand, and pokes at the coals angrily. ELIJAH Okay, Coogan. I'm finished with you for now. Ricky rises and snatches the notepad just before Elijah spins to face him. ELIJAH (CONT'D) But listen. I may not be "Mr. Tinseltown", but I damn well know what I like. You're gonna be a hideous killing machine, and that's final! Tomorrow night I'll finish the job onstage! And then, to demonstrate your horrible power, you'll slaughter all the old obsolete freaks in cold bl--HEY! Elijah thrusts the red hot fire poker out and ZAP! He catches Toad's ten foot tongue--curled around the searing poker inches from the Fiddle Faddle. TOAD AAAGGGGHH! 58. ELIJAH I told you enough! CUT TO: EXT. ELIJAH'S HOUSE DAY Elijah shows Rick out the door. The Eyes scurry out and leap back into the sockets in the giant head. ELIJAH Bye-bye. And remember, try another escape, and I'll feed your balls to Toad. As he walks towards the Freak House, Rick pulls out the note he pocketed. A gust of wind blows it away from him. He chases it behind the carnival tent where... KKCCLIINNK! He runs into ELEVEN PHONY MILKMEN, backing their way around the corner, each carrying their own six-pack of milkbottles. Startled, they turn around. Why, it's the freaks! And they're all dressed as milkmen! Cowboy carries the hammer, who's dressed in a little milkman suit as well. BEARDED LADY Hey Rick, I thought you were gonna come up with your own escape plan? RICK (TO JUAN) This is your big plan? A dozen milkmen? Isn't that a little unusual? Juan hadn't thought of this. He pushes himself forward and confronts Rick viciously. JUAN Twelve milkmen is theoretically possible. Thirteen is silly. Looks like one milkman too many, Coogan. He pushes Rick aside. The freaks continue past him. RICK Fine then. Go ahead. Hope you like reggae, ya flea bitten bastard. Rick watches as the Freaks approach the open courtyard, where he knows the Eyeballs will spot them. 59. Julie glances at him a second, then looks away. His mind made up, Rick takes a deep breath. RICK Ah, shit. He runs over to the Freaks. He stands in Juan's way. RICK Look, you'll all be killed. You don't know about Elijah's giant Rasta eyeballs with machine guns... (they think he's nuts) It's suicide! I can't let you do it. JUAN And I can't let you stop us. This is it. Rick and Juan square off. Juan growls and bares his teeth. Rick's MONSTER EYE starts to glow and pulse dimly. They circle each other. The others are transfixed. ELIJAH'S POV He peers through a side window, and sees the pack of milkmen cheering two of their coworkers, locked in mortal combat. ELIJAH That's a lot of milkmen on the same route. No wonder they fight. Juan rears back, about to lunge, when suddenly he freezes and looks off into the distance. A SQUIRREL is sitting innocently a few yards off. JUAN Squirrel! He zooms off after the squirrel. The Eyes pop out of the giant head and follow after him, Uzis FIRING. Juan dodges their bullets and disappears after his prey. The freaks watch their best chance of freedom run off after a pesky rodent. They turn to Rick. NOSEY Wow, giant Rasta eyeballs, just like Rick said. SOCKHEAD Gosh, if it wasn't for Rick, we'd all be dead! 60. OTHER FREAKS Yeah! Way to go Rick! Alright! ERNIE (TO JULIE) God, I can't believe he left you for a squirrel. What a dick. Julie's hurt. She doesn't even smack Ernie. RICK You know how men are. Besides, it was a pretty good looking squirrel. Julie looks at Rick. She sees he's trying to be helpful, not sarcastic. JULIE (to the others) Come on. You heard the Beast Boy. Back to the Freak House, now. Her eyes meet Rick's. She manages a smile, and Rick smiles back. Ernie sizes up the situation and groans as they all head back to the Freak House. ERNIE Not again. (TO RICK) Oh well, at least we'll get to try a new position. CUT TO: INT. STARK INTERROGATION ROOM We're moving in towards a door in this desolate, vaguely corporate looking hallway. INSIDE THE ROOM We're looking at the back of Laughing Man's leather chair. We hear his CACKLE, as well as STUEY GLUCK'S TORTURED SCREAMS and a horrible POWER TOOL NOISE. We can see the usual bright interrogation spotlight, and a couple of extra GOONS watching the goings on, but Stuey and his actual torturer are hidden by Laughing Man's chair. STUEY (O.S.) AHHHHH! STOP IT! OOOWWWWW! We move past Mr. Big's chair to reveal Stuey lying face down on a table, while Bob Vila is using a power sander on his butt. Bob is happily giving pointers to the two goons. 61. BOB Notice the way I use an elliptical motion to chafe Stuey's buttocks. (the Goons nod ATTENTIVELY) It's all here in my new book: Pipes, Fixtures, and Torturing TROLLS-- LAUGHING MAN(O.S.) (Loud, sharp laugh) A-HA-HA-HAHA-HA-HA-HA! Bob obediently shuts up. Laughing Man directs a sinister low chuckle to Stuey. STUEY No way. I'll never talk! I'm made of stone! Bob considers this a second, then starts up a jackhammer. STUEY HELP! RICK! RIIIIIIIIIICCKKK! CUT TO: INT. FREAK HOUSE - DAY We hear LONESOME HARMONICA MUSIC as we pan past the cubicles. Cowboy is playing the harmonica... The Bearded Lady unties the pretty pink ribbon in his hair and sets it aside... Suddenly, we switch to HORRIFIC PSYCHO STINGS as the camera picks up PAUL LYNDE'S CORPSE with flashing red lights. His eyeball drips out of the socket again... Then it's back to the SAD HARMONICA MUSIC. In the next cubicle, Ernie is sleeping, Julie is awake, dreamily fondling a large eclair. She looks longingly up towards Rick's cubicle as we... DREAM DISSOLVE TO: DREAMLAND Rick (his face is normal) and Julie kiss passionately in a billowy white bed amidst puffy clouds. 62. RICK (SINCERE) Julie, compared to this, sex with Julia Roberts was a thankless chore. QUICK DISSOLVE BACK TO: JULIE' We follow her gaze, panning up to Rick. He's lying on his bed, dreamily fondling a donut. He looks down towards Julie's cabin... DREAM DISSOLVE TO: DREAMLAND Rick and Julie kiss passionately. We're tight on them. JULIE Oh Rick, you've touched a place in me no one has ever touched before. ERNIE(O.S.) I'll say! Almost punctured a kidney! WIDEN to show Ernie, still attached to Julie, leering at Rick. Rick is mortified. QUICK DREAM DISSOLVE TO: INT. FREAK HOUSE - DAY Rick sits in his cubicle, visibly sickened by his daydream. Stuey's echoey voice drifts in. STUEY(V.0.) Rick! Riiiicccck! A holographic image of Stuey lying on the torture table appears over Rick. We can see the jackhammer looming over Stuey's face. Rick looks alarmed. STUEY HOLOGRAM Rick! Do something! It's up to you, Rick! Pleeeeeeease! LAUGHING MAN (O.S) Aha-hee-hee-ho-ho-har-har-har! 63. RICK The Laughing Man! Rick watches the hologram break up and disappear. Wheels spinning in his head, he takes the crumpled piece of paper out of his pocket and reads it. RICK (under his breath) Holy shit! JULIE/ERNIE'S CUBICLE Julie and Ernie are struggling over a bottle of deodorant. ERNIE It says it's strong enough for a man! JULIE But it's made for a woman! She grabs it away and shoves it in Ernie's mouth. Rick walks in. JULIE Hey Rick. What's up? RICK Read this. I grabbed it from Skuggs' office. He hands her the notepaper. She reads it, with some difficulty. Ernie is still gagging on deodorant. JULIE "Tape Donahue... Renew Subscription to Beaver World..." Eeuw! She gives Rick a disgusted look. Ernie mumbles with the deodorant in his mouth. ERNIE (interested, muffled) Beaver World!? Julie smacks him--he swallows the deodorant. RICK (TO JULIE) After that. 64. JULIE "Prepare demonstration for Laughing Man, receive five thousand barrels of Noxon." Five thousand barrels!? RICK Elijah's up to something big, and we have to stop him. Ernie BELCHES. Rick sniffs the air. RICK Mmmm. Jasmine. SWISH PAN TO: INT. FREAK HOUSE - DAY Rick takes a deep breath, and begins his presentation to the freaks assembled before him. RICK Alright guys, listen up-- Sockhead suddenly freaks out. SOCKHEAD We're done for! We're done for! I don't want to die! It's the end of the world! The apocalypse! Aahh! He stops. Everyone is staring at him. RICK I haven't said anything yet. SOCKHEAD Sorry. I'm not much for timing. He takes his seat again. RICK (TO EVERYONE) Tomorrow night, at the show, I'll be turned into a homicidal monster and forced to kill you all. But we might have a chance if we act fast. And I'm prepared to be your new leader. A THRILLING CHORD. 65. NOSEY (TO SOCKHEAD) I say we kill him. Sockhead nods. RICK And I've got a plan. ANOTHER THRILLING CHORD. NOSEY I still say we kill him. Sockhead nods again. RICK If we can get into Elijah's lab, maybe we can-- WORM Of course! Design a super freak of our own and manipulate the genetic code to make him destroy Elijah instead of us! Brilliant! RICK Oh. Well-- BEARDED LADY But how do we get to the lab? RICK Um, maybe-- COWBOY Right! The worm could dig a tunnel! WORM By God, it's so crazy it might just work! ERNIE But you need Noxon 24 to make the freaking sludge, and Elijah told us himself he's run out of it. RICK Oh. Oh yeah. Well, see, what I was going to say was-- 66. JULIE Yes! Exactly! If they've been using Noxon 24 as a fertilizer here, the entire ecosystem must be soaked with it! All we need is a way to extract it from the vegetation, ideally into a liquid form. RICK Right. Well, what about-- COWBOY Golly! So that's why my milk comes out that funny green color! I thought the grass tasted funny! Wow, Rick, you're a genius! JULIE (SMILES WARMLY) Good thinking, Rick. The freaks all nod in agreement. NOSEY Way to go, Rick! How did you ever think of such a plan? Rick pulls out an old comic book and points to an ad for Sea Monkeys. RICK Well, actually, I was going to suggest we send away for sea monkeys, train them to fire guns, and make a break for it. But if you want to go with this other thing, I guess that's okay. The freaks stare at him, not sure if he's kidding or not. CUT TO: INT. FREAK HOUSE - NIGHT FREAKS ON A MISSION MONTAGE, SET TO A POUNDING "EYE OF THE TIGER"-TYPE SONG -Nosey milks Cowboy, squirting the glowing milk into a funnel which feeds into a crude still. The Torch heats the boiler. -The Worm digs the tunnel. JulieErnie hand Rick pieces of wood which he puts into place as tunnel supports. They hand him Paul Lynde's corpse and he wedges it in as well. 67. -Everyone's getting into it and working up a sweat. Nosey wipes his brow, opens a bottle of Pepsi and chugs it down in a beautifully lit slo-mo product shot... The other freaks follow suit, including the Worm, down in the tunnel, who struggles to hold the bottle in his tiny feeler. Everything's going great and the song is really pumping when... ELIJAH runs out on his front porch in his nightclothes and screams down at the outhouse. ELIJAH WOULD YOU TURN DOWN THAT GODDAMN RACKET!? IN THE FREAK HOUSE Nosey turns off a boom box and the music cuts short. The freaks exchange tense looks. Nosey calls out apologetically to Elijah. NOSEY SOR-RY. (to the freaks) What a jerk! INT. UNDERGROUND TUNNEL The Worm burrows along, leaving a tunnel wide enough for Rick and JulieErnie to crawl after him. Rick notices a ray of light coming through a rock formation. RICK Hey, look at this! They all stop and look. Rick fingers the hole, and the rocks cave in, revealing A VAST UNDERGROUND CITY It's obviously a matte painting. WORM Good Lord! It's the Lost City of Nodd! JULIE Wow! 68. KER-CHUNK! We hear the sound of a slide projector switching slides and the underground city is replaced by a still image of some tourists standing around a geyser. [foriegn version: the Blarney Stone]. RICK It's Old Faithful! (foriegn take: "It's the Blarney Stone!"] They "Ooh" and "Ahh". The image switches to a snapshot of a FAT MIDDLE-AGED WOMAN. ERNIE It's my Aunt Gladys! The other freaks nod politely. The image switches to a BAR MITZVAH PHOTO. ERNIE And that's me at my bar mitzvah! RICK C'mon Ernie, let's go. ERNIE Wait, you gotta see the ones from sleep-away camp! They're hilarious! Julie smacks him. JULIE Stooge! EXT. FREAK COMPOUND - NIGHT It's an "Antfarm View" of the yard, where the freaks are visible tunneling underground, and Toad is visible on the yard above them. We see a bat fly overhead... ZAP! Toad shoots out his tongue, snags it out of mid air, and chews it happily, oblivious to the freaks burrowing right underneath him. INT. FREAK HOUSE Nosey looks at the nearly full container of distilled Noxon. NOSEY Almost there. (he sniffs the air) But wait, I'm getting a whiff of things to come! 69. BEARDED LADY What do you smell? NOSEY (GRIM) Blood. Bearded Lady looks grave..Nosey sniffs again. NOSEY (CHEERFUL) And hot buttered popcorn! BEARDED LADY Awwright! INT. TUNNEL They're burrowing along. Ernie loudly clears his throat. Julie spits out a loogie. She grimaces. JULIE I hate when you do that. We hear muffled BARKING. ERNIE Hey! Do you hear that? JULIE It's a dog! RICK (TO WORM) Hurry! The Worm breaks through into a small cavern with several exposed sewer pipes. A lovable mutt leaps out of a pipe and drops an old tennis ball in front of Rick. He starts licking Rick's face. RICK Scrappy! SAPPY MUSIC wells up. RICK It's been ten years since you chased this ball into the sewer! I thought you were gone for good! SCRAPPY Yap! 70. RICK Listen Scrap. Go home. Get help. Understand? SCRAPPY Yap! RICK Good boy! Now go! Scrappy runs away into the sewer pipe. Rick shrugs. RICK You never know. Julie taps on some exposed wood on the cavern ceiling. JULIE Look, a wood floor. WORM It must be the lab! we've done it! They all look at each other excitedly. Suddenly Elijah's voice rings out behind them. ELIJAH'S VOICE Not so fast, you scabrous freaks! They spin around and see Nosey holding the bottle of Noxon 24. He grins. NOSEY Didn't know I did impressions, did ya? INT. FREAK HOUSE The freaks are waiting around the hole. Nosey pops out. NOSEY Mission accomplished. They've got the Noxon, and they'll be in the lab within minutes. FROGMAN Boy, this is going like clockwork! Everyone smiles, pats each other on the back, etc. Except Sockhead, who finally snaps. SOCKHEAD No! Can't you see we're digging our own graves!? (MORE) 71. It's nuts, SOCKHEAD(cont'd) that's what it is! Nuts! Well, maybe you've all got a deathwish, but you can count me out! I'M GETTING THE HELL OUT OF HERE! He runs amok, pushes various freaks to the ground, and runs around screaming. The freak house door opens--Eye and Eye step in to check out the noise. One of them has a spliff sticking out of its pupil. Sockhead charges at them like a mad dog. They aim their Uzis. SOCKHEAD (at the Eyes) OUT OF MY WAY! RATTA-RATTA-RATTA! They spray an ungodly amount of bullets into Sockhead. He falls to the ground. The Eyes leave. The freaks gather around Sockhead. Nosey pulls the sock off his hand head, which is making a little "Senor Pepe" face with its fist. It spits up a trickle of blood and tries to speak. SOCKHEAD (WEAK) I... I... just... wanna...say... NOSEY What is it, kid? SOCKHEAD Ah, forget it. I'm not much for dying. He goes limp. CUT TO: INT. ELIJAH'S LAB JulieErnie, the Worm, and Rick are just emerging from the hole. It's really dark in the lab. ERNIE Shit. I can't see a damn thing. RICK Keep your voice down, Ernie. ERNIE Don't push me, Coog. I got a real short fuse today. I'm cranky, bloated, got a wicked case of cramps. Don't ask why. 72. JULIE (whispers to Rick) PMS... RICK (has to think about this) Oh.... Right. Rick pats Ernie on the shoulder reassuringly. He moves over to Elijah's computer terminal. RICK (CONT'D) Well, here it is--the control panel for Elijah's Freaking process. WORM Good work, my boy. Now step aside. This is scientist's work. Worm muscles Rick out of the way and sits at the console. Using a pen held in his mouth, he flicks a series of switches and punches a fast series of computer keys. The light on top of the Tasty Freekz machine starts to revolve, and after a couple of seconds, a stream of GOOEY LIGHT BROWN GLOP oozes out of the spigot. ERNIE Hey! It's working! RICK You did it, Worm! Way to go! JULIE But how? You didn't even use the Noxon. The Worm rushes over to the container of glop below the spigot, and without hesitation, plunges his face into it! Rick, Julie, and Ernie gasp in horror! The WORM lifts his glop-smeared face out of the bowl, and smacks his

halt

How many times the word 'halt' appears in the text?

{I'M UGLY} Into this breathing world, scarse half made up, {I'M REALLY UGLY} And that so lamely and unfashionable, That dogs bark at me as I halt by them. {I'M F KIN' BUTT-UGLY, ALRIGHT!?} Why I, in this weak piping time of peace, {BLAH, BLAH, BLAH} Have no delight to pass away the time, {I NEVER GET LAID...} Unless to see my shadow in the sun, And descant on mine own deformity! {BECAUSE I'M UGLY} Rick bows. The crowd bursts into applause. They yell "Bravo" and throw bouquets. Rick takes several curtain calls. The freaks cheer for him. Julie is particularly moved--she and Rick exchange a heavy look, laden with romantic potential. NOTE: We will insert an almost subliminal one-frame shot of the Pepsi logo at this triumphant moment. Kevin, the EES executive from the airport scene, walks into the tent. Rick sees him and gasps with joy. He leaps off the stage, runs up to Kevin and hugs him. Kevin is shocked, of course. Overcome by the moment, Rick regresses to his old self. RICK I'm saved! Haha! You sorry mutants are gonna rot in this hole while I'm sipping mint juleps by the pool! {AS FORTUNE SMILES O'ER MY FATE, SO DESTINY SPURNS YOUR ACCURSE'D PATE} The freaks and the audience gasp at Rick's cruelty. Julie is shocked--Juan gives her an "I told you so" look. Rick sees Julie and catches himself. 49. RICK (TO KEVIN) I mean, um, I hope you have room for all my friends, heh-heh. KEVIN Rick, Rick, listen, I really love this new look you've come up with. But just between you and me, I don't think the guys upstairs would really get it. RICK What are you saying!? KEVIN (CHUCKLES SNIDELY) I'm saying you're ugly enough to burn the nosehairs off a dead nun. The crowd bursts into cruel hysterics, pointing mockingly at Rick. Even Alistair Cooke is practically choking with laughter. ALISTAIR COOKE AH-HA-HA-HA! WHAT A PUTZ! Rick looks around, horrified at the sea of evil, jeering faces. He begins to tremble. Then... RICK'S MONSTER EYE springs to life for the first time and glows red with rage. His whole monster side awakens and takes charge of his body with violent intensity. He grabs Kevin's head and screams in a new, monstrous voice. RICK EAT SHIT! POP! He plucks Kevin's head off his neck and holds it aloft. The head stares down at Rick in disbelief. KEVIN'S HEAD Now you're just being childish. Rick serves the head like a volleyball, smashing it to bits. The crowd panics and charges for the exits. CROWD AHHHHHH! HELP! LET US OUT OF HERE! People are trampling over each other in the mayhem. Alistair Cooke is crushed under the stampede. 50. The freaks are horrified. Monster Rick growls triumphantly. Elijah looks on, intrigued. ELIJAH Now that's entertainment. INT. FREAK HOUSE - MORNING Rick awakens with a start and gets up. He approaches JulieErnie, The Bearded Lady, Nosey and Dog Boy, who are idly playing a game of "Wheel of Fortune." The cubicles contain large blank blocks, like the "letters" on the game show. So far, there's a "D", two "S"s, and a "K" revealed. Rosie the Pinhead plays Vanna White's role. NOSEY I'd like to buy a vowel. The Bearded lady yawns. Rick edges towards them. RICK Hey. The Wheel. Mind if I sit in? Juan advances towards Rick, sneering. JUAN So. Now you don't mind mixing with us--how did you say it--sorry mutants? RICK Look! I'm sorry for what happened at the show. Can't you just forget it? He shakes his finger at Juan, and notices there's still a human nose stuck on his monster claw. He wipes it off, embarrassed. There's an awkward pause. Ernie breaks the silence. ERNIE Hey, shouldn't you tell Rick about your big escape plan? Juan gives Ernie a nasty "shut up" look. He growls at him. ERNIE Well, excuse me for living. RICK You have an escape plan? JUAN Listen, Beast Boy, the games are a simple diversion. (MORE) 51. JUAN(CONT'D) Beneath our twisted flesh we freaks cry out for freedom! Aooooooorrraaaagh! Juan howls lustily. He looks to rest of the freaks. They're a pathetic lot, and their half-hearted howl proves it. FREAKS Aoo... Beat. JULIE Juan's plan is really ingenious Rick. See, he figured out that-- JUAN I figured out that our escape does not include the Beast Boy. No one may discuss the plan with him, understand? Juan gives the others a threatening look. They mumble agreement. RICK What's the matter with all of you? You trust your lives to a guy just 'cause he can lick his own privates? The freaks ponder this a second, then nod "yes". ERNIE You gotta admit, Coog, it's a helluva trick. RICK (RESENTFUL) Fine! I'll just come up with an escape plan of my own then. JUAN Haha! I have spent a year studying this hellhole, devising the perfect escape. You think you'll just tango right out the door!? Ha! Just try it, amigo. RICK I will! Rick turns to go. JulieErnie rush over and try to reason with him quietly. 52. JULIE Rick, wait. ERNIE Yeah. Don't go off half-cocked. Believe me, it ain't all it's cracked up to be. JULIE This isn't one of your dumb movies, Coogan. Look, Juan's a good dog, a smart dog. I'll talk to him. Don't be stupid, Rick. You can't do it without us. RICK Forget it! I don't need you, EES, or anybody else! I'll get out of here all by myself, you... you.,. crud sucking pus monkeys! DING DING DING! The letters in the Wheel of Fortune board light up, and ROSIE turns them over to reveal "Crud Sucking Pus Monkeys" as the secret phrase. Everyone claps despite themselves. Juan stares them down. They stop. Rick storms off in a huff. Juan takes Julie's hand and gazes deep into her eyes. He kisses her passionately. Julie is watching Rick leave. Juan nibbles her neck, which gets her attention. She scratches Juan behind his ear. His leg instinctively kicks the air. Ernie looks worried. ERNIE I'm getting a bad feeling here. CUT TO: INT. REAR CORNER OF FREAK HOUSE - DAY Out of sight from the others, Rick approaches the rear door and tries it. It doesn't open from the inside. RICK Damn. He peers out through a crack in the door and sees a MILKMAN getting out of his truck in the driveway. RICK (TO MILKMAN) Psst! Hey, you. Milkman! 53. OUTSIDE The milkman looks over at the outhouse, suspicious. MILKMAN Yeah... ? RICK (V.0.) Just the man I'm lookinq for. Be a pal, and give me a hand will ya? MILKMAN Oooh no! I know you freaks. You'll try anything just to get someone to open that door. Well not me! Ha! He's about to walk away. RICK Okay. Guess I'll just have to milk the world's biggest breasted woman all by myself. Sorry to bother you. The milkman stops in his tracks. He tiptoes over to the back door of the outhouse, listening intently as Rick goes into his "act." RICK (in a lusty womanish VOICE) Ooohh... Milk me! Milk me now! Milk me hard! (Normal Rick voice) I've only got two hands, all right? Geez. I don't care if Elijah did give you skim milk on the right side, chocolate on the left, and eggnog in the middle. The milkman is salivating at the door. MILKMAN (TO HIMSELF) Gee, I love eggnog! The milkman opens the door eagerly and steps inside. Beat. MILKMAN Hey, what the-- BONK. We hear the sound of bottled buttermilk beaning his soft noggin. Rick walks out wearing the milkman outfit complete with the little six-milk-bottle-carrier thing. 54. He looks around and heads for the milk truck, whistling casually. He notices something. It's ... THE GIANT ELIJAH HEAD Its big eyes are staring at Rick (note: there's a skywriter plane in the distance behind the head, which finishes writing "YOU GOT THE RIGHT ONE BABY: PEPSI") Rick gets to the truck and tries the door. It's locked. RICK Shit. He looks over at the giant head. The eyes are still staring at him--they seem to have shifted. Rick shrugs it off and looks around. He walks over to Elijah's car. It's locked too. He checks the big eyes. They've moved again. Rick's getting a bit desperate. He sees something else and runs towards it. It's a dry-docked motorboat. It's locked too. The eyes have followed Rick again. He sees something else and runs over to it. It's a bag of golf clubs leaning against Elijah's porch. They're locked too. RICK Damn! This guy doesn't trust anybody! He looks at the giant head- the eyes are gone, leaving only empty eyesockets! Rick hears A BURST OF MACHINEGUN FIRE behind him, spins around and faces ... TWO THREE FOOT HIGH EYEBALLS with little arms and legs, wearing Jamaican Rasta hats and aiming smoking Uzi 9mms in the air. They aim their Uzis at Rick. One holds a walkie-talkie, the other holds a big spliff. RICK AHHHH! A T.V. MONITOR in Elijah's hands, shows Rick staring at us, the Eye's POV. ELIJAH seen in extreme close-up, watches the surveillance monitor. He speaks into a microphone. We don't see what the room looks like. ELIJAH Good work, Eye and Eye. 55. THE EYES bob in response to Elijah. They have no mouths, but their pupils open and close when they speak. EYE AND EYE (JAMAICAN ACCENTS) Rastafari. ELIJAH (V.0.) (over the walkie-talkie) Now bring the Beast Boy to my, uh, den. Ha-ha-ha-ha! Rick looks worried as they lead him towards the scary looking house. INT. ELIJAH'S DEN It's a lovely, suburban den with a coffee table full of magazines like "Better Homes and Gardens," "National Review" and "Freaks Illustrated". Elijah sits in a big Barcalounger, smoking a pipe. Rick sits on the sofa. Toad walks up with a tray of soft drinks. ELIJAH (TO RICK) Diet soda? RICK No thanks. Elijah points to a bowl of Fiddle Faddle. Toad sits beside Rick. ELIJAH Fiddle Faddle? (Rick shakes his head) You sure? RICK Well, okay. (he scoops some into his MOUTH) Well, are you gonna torture me or kill me or something? ELIJAH Torture my greatest creation ever!? Kill the final piece of the puzzle that I've been putting together for years!? Sure, it'd be fun, but I've got a bigger plan, my boy. (MORE) 56. ELIJAH(CONT'D) And when you ripped off that guy's head, I knew it was working like gangbusters! RICK But I thought I scared everyone away. ELIJAH Uh-huh. And then they told two friends, and they told two friends, and so on, and so on. Look at this. Elijah grabs a big mail bag and spills some letters out on the table. Elijah opens one and reads it. ELIJAH (READING) Dear Mister Skuggs, I was shocked and disgusted when my grandson told me about the head-popping beast at your show. Please send me six tickets. (he reads another) Dear Beast Boy, I used to like New Kids on The Block, but you're way cuter. My favorite ice cream is chocolate. Is it fun ripping people's heads off? I love you. (ANOTHER LETTER) The Beast Boy is on a blood-letting spree, and Oscar is along for the ride! (he looks up at Rick) That one's from Pat Collins! RICK Yeah, but she loves everything. Rick reaches for the Fiddle Faddle but the bowl is empty. Toad BURPS. ELIJAH Toad! That Fiddle Faddle is for guests only! You've had enough! Toad is blankfaced. Elijah walks over and refills the bowl. Rick scoops some into his mouth. Elijah walks to the fireplace and pushes the embers around with a poker. RICK Look Skuggs--Elijah--I've been in show business all my life. The public does not want to see disgusting, depraved violent filth. 57. ELIJAH Oh, and I suppose Jake and the Fatman is just a fluke? The phone rings. Elijah looks at it, and back to Rick. ELIJAH (CONT'D) I'll get it. He goes over to the phone and lifts the receiver. ELIJAH `Yello? On the other end of the line, we hear LAUGHING MAN's insane chuckle. Elijah's smooth smile fades. He turns his back to- Rick, who strains to identify the familiar laughing voice. Elijah scribbles notes on a pad by the phone. ELIJAH Yes... Right... Tomorrow... Mmhmm... Mnunhmm... Wow. Okay. You got it... Hasta la vista to you too. Hahaahahaahaha-- Laughing Man hangs up on Elijah. He looks a little pissed- off as he turns to face Rick again. Grumbling, he takes the poker in hand, and pokes at the coals angrily. ELIJAH Okay, Coogan. I'm finished with you for now. Ricky rises and snatches the notepad just before Elijah spins to face him. ELIJAH (CONT'D) But listen. I may not be "Mr. Tinseltown", but I damn well know what I like. You're gonna be a hideous killing machine, and that's final! Tomorrow night I'll finish the job onstage! And then, to demonstrate your horrible power, you'll slaughter all the old obsolete freaks in cold bl--HEY! Elijah thrusts the red hot fire poker out and ZAP! He catches Toad's ten foot tongue--curled around the searing poker inches from the Fiddle Faddle. TOAD AAAGGGGHH! 58. ELIJAH I told you enough! CUT TO: EXT. ELIJAH'S HOUSE DAY Elijah shows Rick out the door. The Eyes scurry out and leap back into the sockets in the giant head. ELIJAH Bye-bye. And remember, try another escape, and I'll feed your balls to Toad. As he walks towards the Freak House, Rick pulls out the note he pocketed. A gust of wind blows it away from him. He chases it behind the carnival tent where... KKCCLIINNK! He runs into ELEVEN PHONY MILKMEN, backing their way around the corner, each carrying their own six-pack of milkbottles. Startled, they turn around. Why, it's the freaks! And they're all dressed as milkmen! Cowboy carries the hammer, who's dressed in a little milkman suit as well. BEARDED LADY Hey Rick, I thought you were gonna come up with your own escape plan? RICK (TO JUAN) This is your big plan? A dozen milkmen? Isn't that a little unusual? Juan hadn't thought of this. He pushes himself forward and confronts Rick viciously. JUAN Twelve milkmen is theoretically possible. Thirteen is silly. Looks like one milkman too many, Coogan. He pushes Rick aside. The freaks continue past him. RICK Fine then. Go ahead. Hope you like reggae, ya flea bitten bastard. Rick watches as the Freaks approach the open courtyard, where he knows the Eyeballs will spot them. 59. Julie glances at him a second, then looks away. His mind made up, Rick takes a deep breath. RICK Ah, shit. He runs over to the Freaks. He stands in Juan's way. RICK Look, you'll all be killed. You don't know about Elijah's giant Rasta eyeballs with machine guns... (they think he's nuts) It's suicide! I can't let you do it. JUAN And I can't let you stop us. This is it. Rick and Juan square off. Juan growls and bares his teeth. Rick's MONSTER EYE starts to glow and pulse dimly. They circle each other. The others are transfixed. ELIJAH'S POV He peers through a side window, and sees the pack of milkmen cheering two of their coworkers, locked in mortal combat. ELIJAH That's a lot of milkmen on the same route. No wonder they fight. Juan rears back, about to lunge, when suddenly he freezes and looks off into the distance. A SQUIRREL is sitting innocently a few yards off. JUAN Squirrel! He zooms off after the squirrel. The Eyes pop out of the giant head and follow after him, Uzis FIRING. Juan dodges their bullets and disappears after his prey. The freaks watch their best chance of freedom run off after a pesky rodent. They turn to Rick. NOSEY Wow, giant Rasta eyeballs, just like Rick said. SOCKHEAD Gosh, if it wasn't for Rick, we'd all be dead! 60. OTHER FREAKS Yeah! Way to go Rick! Alright! ERNIE (TO JULIE) God, I can't believe he left you for a squirrel. What a dick. Julie's hurt. She doesn't even smack Ernie. RICK You know how men are. Besides, it was a pretty good looking squirrel. Julie looks at Rick. She sees he's trying to be helpful, not sarcastic. JULIE (to the others) Come on. You heard the Beast Boy. Back to the Freak House, now. Her eyes meet Rick's. She manages a smile, and Rick smiles back. Ernie sizes up the situation and groans as they all head back to the Freak House. ERNIE Not again. (TO RICK) Oh well, at least we'll get to try a new position. CUT TO: INT. STARK INTERROGATION ROOM We're moving in towards a door in this desolate, vaguely corporate looking hallway. INSIDE THE ROOM We're looking at the back of Laughing Man's leather chair. We hear his CACKLE, as well as STUEY GLUCK'S TORTURED SCREAMS and a horrible POWER TOOL NOISE. We can see the usual bright interrogation spotlight, and a couple of extra GOONS watching the goings on, but Stuey and his actual torturer are hidden by Laughing Man's chair. STUEY (O.S.) AHHHHH! STOP IT! OOOWWWWW! We move past Mr. Big's chair to reveal Stuey lying face down on a table, while Bob Vila is using a power sander on his butt. Bob is happily giving pointers to the two goons. 61. BOB Notice the way I use an elliptical motion to chafe Stuey's buttocks. (the Goons nod ATTENTIVELY) It's all here in my new book: Pipes, Fixtures, and Torturing TROLLS-- LAUGHING MAN(O.S.) (Loud, sharp laugh) A-HA-HA-HAHA-HA-HA-HA! Bob obediently shuts up. Laughing Man directs a sinister low chuckle to Stuey. STUEY No way. I'll never talk! I'm made of stone! Bob considers this a second, then starts up a jackhammer. STUEY HELP! RICK! RIIIIIIIIIICCKKK! CUT TO: INT. FREAK HOUSE - DAY We hear LONESOME HARMONICA MUSIC as we pan past the cubicles. Cowboy is playing the harmonica... The Bearded Lady unties the pretty pink ribbon in his hair and sets it aside... Suddenly, we switch to HORRIFIC PSYCHO STINGS as the camera picks up PAUL LYNDE'S CORPSE with flashing red lights. His eyeball drips out of the socket again... Then it's back to the SAD HARMONICA MUSIC. In the next cubicle, Ernie is sleeping, Julie is awake, dreamily fondling a large eclair. She looks longingly up towards Rick's cubicle as we... DREAM DISSOLVE TO: DREAMLAND Rick (his face is normal) and Julie kiss passionately in a billowy white bed amidst puffy clouds. 62. RICK (SINCERE) Julie, compared to this, sex with Julia Roberts was a thankless chore. QUICK DISSOLVE BACK TO: JULIE' We follow her gaze, panning up to Rick. He's lying on his bed, dreamily fondling a donut. He looks down towards Julie's cabin... DREAM DISSOLVE TO: DREAMLAND Rick and Julie kiss passionately. We're tight on them. JULIE Oh Rick, you've touched a place in me no one has ever touched before. ERNIE(O.S.) I'll say! Almost punctured a kidney! WIDEN to show Ernie, still attached to Julie, leering at Rick. Rick is mortified. QUICK DREAM DISSOLVE TO: INT. FREAK HOUSE - DAY Rick sits in his cubicle, visibly sickened by his daydream. Stuey's echoey voice drifts in. STUEY(V.0.) Rick! Riiiicccck! A holographic image of Stuey lying on the torture table appears over Rick. We can see the jackhammer looming over Stuey's face. Rick looks alarmed. STUEY HOLOGRAM Rick! Do something! It's up to you, Rick! Pleeeeeeease! LAUGHING MAN (O.S) Aha-hee-hee-ho-ho-har-har-har! 63. RICK The Laughing Man! Rick watches the hologram break up and disappear. Wheels spinning in his head, he takes the crumpled piece of paper out of his pocket and reads it. RICK (under his breath) Holy shit! JULIE/ERNIE'S CUBICLE Julie and Ernie are struggling over a bottle of deodorant. ERNIE It says it's strong enough for a man! JULIE But it's made for a woman! She grabs it away and shoves it in Ernie's mouth. Rick walks in. JULIE Hey Rick. What's up? RICK Read this. I grabbed it from Skuggs' office. He hands her the notepaper. She reads it, with some difficulty. Ernie is still gagging on deodorant. JULIE "Tape Donahue... Renew Subscription to Beaver World..." Eeuw! She gives Rick a disgusted look. Ernie mumbles with the deodorant in his mouth. ERNIE (interested, muffled) Beaver World!? Julie smacks him--he swallows the deodorant. RICK (TO JULIE) After that. 64. JULIE "Prepare demonstration for Laughing Man, receive five thousand barrels of Noxon." Five thousand barrels!? RICK Elijah's up to something big, and we have to stop him. Ernie BELCHES. Rick sniffs the air. RICK Mmmm. Jasmine. SWISH PAN TO: INT. FREAK HOUSE - DAY Rick takes a deep breath, and begins his presentation to the freaks assembled before him. RICK Alright guys, listen up-- Sockhead suddenly freaks out. SOCKHEAD We're done for! We're done for! I don't want to die! It's the end of the world! The apocalypse! Aahh! He stops. Everyone is staring at him. RICK I haven't said anything yet. SOCKHEAD Sorry. I'm not much for timing. He takes his seat again. RICK (TO EVERYONE) Tomorrow night, at the show, I'll be turned into a homicidal monster and forced to kill you all. But we might have a chance if we act fast. And I'm prepared to be your new leader. A THRILLING CHORD. 65. NOSEY (TO SOCKHEAD) I say we kill him. Sockhead nods. RICK And I've got a plan. ANOTHER THRILLING CHORD. NOSEY I still say we kill him. Sockhead nods again. RICK If we can get into Elijah's lab, maybe we can-- WORM Of course! Design a super freak of our own and manipulate the genetic code to make him destroy Elijah instead of us! Brilliant! RICK Oh. Well-- BEARDED LADY But how do we get to the lab? RICK Um, maybe-- COWBOY Right! The worm could dig a tunnel! WORM By God, it's so crazy it might just work! ERNIE But you need Noxon 24 to make the freaking sludge, and Elijah told us himself he's run out of it. RICK Oh. Oh yeah. Well, see, what I was going to say was-- 66. JULIE Yes! Exactly! If they've been using Noxon 24 as a fertilizer here, the entire ecosystem must be soaked with it! All we need is a way to extract it from the vegetation, ideally into a liquid form. RICK Right. Well, what about-- COWBOY Golly! So that's why my milk comes out that funny green color! I thought the grass tasted funny! Wow, Rick, you're a genius! JULIE (SMILES WARMLY) Good thinking, Rick. The freaks all nod in agreement. NOSEY Way to go, Rick! How did you ever think of such a plan? Rick pulls out an old comic book and points to an ad for Sea Monkeys. RICK Well, actually, I was going to suggest we send away for sea monkeys, train them to fire guns, and make a break for it. But if you want to go with this other thing, I guess that's okay. The freaks stare at him, not sure if he's kidding or not. CUT TO: INT. FREAK HOUSE - NIGHT FREAKS ON A MISSION MONTAGE, SET TO A POUNDING "EYE OF THE TIGER"-TYPE SONG -Nosey milks Cowboy, squirting the glowing milk into a funnel which feeds into a crude still. The Torch heats the boiler. -The Worm digs the tunnel. JulieErnie hand Rick pieces of wood which he puts into place as tunnel supports. They hand him Paul Lynde's corpse and he wedges it in as well. 67. -Everyone's getting into it and working up a sweat. Nosey wipes his brow, opens a bottle of Pepsi and chugs it down in a beautifully lit slo-mo product shot... The other freaks follow suit, including the Worm, down in the tunnel, who struggles to hold the bottle in his tiny feeler. Everything's going great and the song is really pumping when... ELIJAH runs out on his front porch in his nightclothes and screams down at the outhouse. ELIJAH WOULD YOU TURN DOWN THAT GODDAMN RACKET!? IN THE FREAK HOUSE Nosey turns off a boom box and the music cuts short. The freaks exchange tense looks. Nosey calls out apologetically to Elijah. NOSEY SOR-RY. (to the freaks) What a jerk! INT. UNDERGROUND TUNNEL The Worm burrows along, leaving a tunnel wide enough for Rick and JulieErnie to crawl after him. Rick notices a ray of light coming through a rock formation. RICK Hey, look at this! They all stop and look. Rick fingers the hole, and the rocks cave in, revealing A VAST UNDERGROUND CITY It's obviously a matte painting. WORM Good Lord! It's the Lost City of Nodd! JULIE Wow! 68. KER-CHUNK! We hear the sound of a slide projector switching slides and the underground city is replaced by a still image of some tourists standing around a geyser. [foriegn version: the Blarney Stone]. RICK It's Old Faithful! (foriegn take: "It's the Blarney Stone!"] They "Ooh" and "Ahh". The image switches to a snapshot of a FAT MIDDLE-AGED WOMAN. ERNIE It's my Aunt Gladys! The other freaks nod politely. The image switches to a BAR MITZVAH PHOTO. ERNIE And that's me at my bar mitzvah! RICK C'mon Ernie, let's go. ERNIE Wait, you gotta see the ones from sleep-away camp! They're hilarious! Julie smacks him. JULIE Stooge! EXT. FREAK COMPOUND - NIGHT It's an "Antfarm View" of the yard, where the freaks are visible tunneling underground, and Toad is visible on the yard above them. We see a bat fly overhead... ZAP! Toad shoots out his tongue, snags it out of mid air, and chews it happily, oblivious to the freaks burrowing right underneath him. INT. FREAK HOUSE Nosey looks at the nearly full container of distilled Noxon. NOSEY Almost there. (he sniffs the air) But wait, I'm getting a whiff of things to come! 69. BEARDED LADY What do you smell? NOSEY (GRIM) Blood. Bearded Lady looks grave..Nosey sniffs again. NOSEY (CHEERFUL) And hot buttered popcorn! BEARDED LADY Awwright! INT. TUNNEL They're burrowing along. Ernie loudly clears his throat. Julie spits out a loogie. She grimaces. JULIE I hate when you do that. We hear muffled BARKING. ERNIE Hey! Do you hear that? JULIE It's a dog! RICK (TO WORM) Hurry! The Worm breaks through into a small cavern with several exposed sewer pipes. A lovable mutt leaps out of a pipe and drops an old tennis ball in front of Rick. He starts licking Rick's face. RICK Scrappy! SAPPY MUSIC wells up. RICK It's been ten years since you chased this ball into the sewer! I thought you were gone for good! SCRAPPY Yap! 70. RICK Listen Scrap. Go home. Get help. Understand? SCRAPPY Yap! RICK Good boy! Now go! Scrappy runs away into the sewer pipe. Rick shrugs. RICK You never know. Julie taps on some exposed wood on the cavern ceiling. JULIE Look, a wood floor. WORM It must be the lab! we've done it! They all look at each other excitedly. Suddenly Elijah's voice rings out behind them. ELIJAH'S VOICE Not so fast, you scabrous freaks! They spin around and see Nosey holding the bottle of Noxon 24. He grins. NOSEY Didn't know I did impressions, did ya? INT. FREAK HOUSE The freaks are waiting around the hole. Nosey pops out. NOSEY Mission accomplished. They've got the Noxon, and they'll be in the lab within minutes. FROGMAN Boy, this is going like clockwork! Everyone smiles, pats each other on the back, etc. Except Sockhead, who finally snaps. SOCKHEAD No! Can't you see we're digging our own graves!? (MORE) 71. It's nuts, SOCKHEAD(cont'd) that's what it is! Nuts! Well, maybe you've all got a deathwish, but you can count me out! I'M GETTING THE HELL OUT OF HERE! He runs amok, pushes various freaks to the ground, and runs around screaming. The freak house door opens--Eye and Eye step in to check out the noise. One of them has a spliff sticking out of its pupil. Sockhead charges at them like a mad dog. They aim their Uzis. SOCKHEAD (at the Eyes) OUT OF MY WAY! RATTA-RATTA-RATTA! They spray an ungodly amount of bullets into Sockhead. He falls to the ground. The Eyes leave. The freaks gather around Sockhead. Nosey pulls the sock off his hand head, which is making a little "Senor Pepe" face with its fist. It spits up a trickle of blood and tries to speak. SOCKHEAD (WEAK) I... I... just... wanna...say... NOSEY What is it, kid? SOCKHEAD Ah, forget it. I'm not much for dying. He goes limp. CUT TO: INT. ELIJAH'S LAB JulieErnie, the Worm, and Rick are just emerging from the hole. It's really dark in the lab. ERNIE Shit. I can't see a damn thing. RICK Keep your voice down, Ernie. ERNIE Don't push me, Coog. I got a real short fuse today. I'm cranky, bloated, got a wicked case of cramps. Don't ask why. 72. JULIE (whispers to Rick) PMS... RICK (has to think about this) Oh.... Right. Rick pats Ernie on the shoulder reassuringly. He moves over to Elijah's computer terminal. RICK (CONT'D) Well, here it is--the control panel for Elijah's Freaking process. WORM Good work, my boy. Now step aside. This is scientist's work. Worm muscles Rick out of the way and sits at the console. Using a pen held in his mouth, he flicks a series of switches and punches a fast series of computer keys. The light on top of the Tasty Freekz machine starts to revolve, and after a couple of seconds, a stream of GOOEY LIGHT BROWN GLOP oozes out of the spigot. ERNIE Hey! It's working! RICK You did it, Worm! Way to go! JULIE But how? You didn't even use the Noxon. The Worm rushes over to the container of glop below the spigot, and without hesitation, plunges his face into it! Rick, Julie, and Ernie gasp in horror! The WORM lifts his glop-smeared face out of the bowl, and smacks his

destiny

How many times the word 'destiny' appears in the text?

{I'M UGLY} Into this breathing world, scarse half made up, {I'M REALLY UGLY} And that so lamely and unfashionable, That dogs bark at me as I halt by them. {I'M F KIN' BUTT-UGLY, ALRIGHT!?} Why I, in this weak piping time of peace, {BLAH, BLAH, BLAH} Have no delight to pass away the time, {I NEVER GET LAID...} Unless to see my shadow in the sun, And descant on mine own deformity! {BECAUSE I'M UGLY} Rick bows. The crowd bursts into applause. They yell "Bravo" and throw bouquets. Rick takes several curtain calls. The freaks cheer for him. Julie is particularly moved--she and Rick exchange a heavy look, laden with romantic potential. NOTE: We will insert an almost subliminal one-frame shot of the Pepsi logo at this triumphant moment. Kevin, the EES executive from the airport scene, walks into the tent. Rick sees him and gasps with joy. He leaps off the stage, runs up to Kevin and hugs him. Kevin is shocked, of course. Overcome by the moment, Rick regresses to his old self. RICK I'm saved! Haha! You sorry mutants are gonna rot in this hole while I'm sipping mint juleps by the pool! {AS FORTUNE SMILES O'ER MY FATE, SO DESTINY SPURNS YOUR ACCURSE'D PATE} The freaks and the audience gasp at Rick's cruelty. Julie is shocked--Juan gives her an "I told you so" look. Rick sees Julie and catches himself. 49. RICK (TO KEVIN) I mean, um, I hope you have room for all my friends, heh-heh. KEVIN Rick, Rick, listen, I really love this new look you've come up with. But just between you and me, I don't think the guys upstairs would really get it. RICK What are you saying!? KEVIN (CHUCKLES SNIDELY) I'm saying you're ugly enough to burn the nosehairs off a dead nun. The crowd bursts into cruel hysterics, pointing mockingly at Rick. Even Alistair Cooke is practically choking with laughter. ALISTAIR COOKE AH-HA-HA-HA! WHAT A PUTZ! Rick looks around, horrified at the sea of evil, jeering faces. He begins to tremble. Then... RICK'S MONSTER EYE springs to life for the first time and glows red with rage. His whole monster side awakens and takes charge of his body with violent intensity. He grabs Kevin's head and screams in a new, monstrous voice. RICK EAT SHIT! POP! He plucks Kevin's head off his neck and holds it aloft. The head stares down at Rick in disbelief. KEVIN'S HEAD Now you're just being childish. Rick serves the head like a volleyball, smashing it to bits. The crowd panics and charges for the exits. CROWD AHHHHHH! HELP! LET US OUT OF HERE! People are trampling over each other in the mayhem. Alistair Cooke is crushed under the stampede. 50. The freaks are horrified. Monster Rick growls triumphantly. Elijah looks on, intrigued. ELIJAH Now that's entertainment. INT. FREAK HOUSE - MORNING Rick awakens with a start and gets up. He approaches JulieErnie, The Bearded Lady, Nosey and Dog Boy, who are idly playing a game of "Wheel of Fortune." The cubicles contain large blank blocks, like the "letters" on the game show. So far, there's a "D", two "S"s, and a "K" revealed. Rosie the Pinhead plays Vanna White's role. NOSEY I'd like to buy a vowel. The Bearded lady yawns. Rick edges towards them. RICK Hey. The Wheel. Mind if I sit in? Juan advances towards Rick, sneering. JUAN So. Now you don't mind mixing with us--how did you say it--sorry mutants? RICK Look! I'm sorry for what happened at the show. Can't you just forget it? He shakes his finger at Juan, and notices there's still a human nose stuck on his monster claw. He wipes it off, embarrassed. There's an awkward pause. Ernie breaks the silence. ERNIE Hey, shouldn't you tell Rick about your big escape plan? Juan gives Ernie a nasty "shut up" look. He growls at him. ERNIE Well, excuse me for living. RICK You have an escape plan? JUAN Listen, Beast Boy, the games are a simple diversion. (MORE) 51. JUAN(CONT'D) Beneath our twisted flesh we freaks cry out for freedom! Aooooooorrraaaagh! Juan howls lustily. He looks to rest of the freaks. They're a pathetic lot, and their half-hearted howl proves it. FREAKS Aoo... Beat. JULIE Juan's plan is really ingenious Rick. See, he figured out that-- JUAN I figured out that our escape does not include the Beast Boy. No one may discuss the plan with him, understand? Juan gives the others a threatening look. They mumble agreement. RICK What's the matter with all of you? You trust your lives to a guy just 'cause he can lick his own privates? The freaks ponder this a second, then nod "yes". ERNIE You gotta admit, Coog, it's a helluva trick. RICK (RESENTFUL) Fine! I'll just come up with an escape plan of my own then. JUAN Haha! I have spent a year studying this hellhole, devising the perfect escape. You think you'll just tango right out the door!? Ha! Just try it, amigo. RICK I will! Rick turns to go. JulieErnie rush over and try to reason with him quietly. 52. JULIE Rick, wait. ERNIE Yeah. Don't go off half-cocked. Believe me, it ain't all it's cracked up to be. JULIE This isn't one of your dumb movies, Coogan. Look, Juan's a good dog, a smart dog. I'll talk to him. Don't be stupid, Rick. You can't do it without us. RICK Forget it! I don't need you, EES, or anybody else! I'll get out of here all by myself, you... you.,. crud sucking pus monkeys! DING DING DING! The letters in the Wheel of Fortune board light up, and ROSIE turns them over to reveal "Crud Sucking Pus Monkeys" as the secret phrase. Everyone claps despite themselves. Juan stares them down. They stop. Rick storms off in a huff. Juan takes Julie's hand and gazes deep into her eyes. He kisses her passionately. Julie is watching Rick leave. Juan nibbles her neck, which gets her attention. She scratches Juan behind his ear. His leg instinctively kicks the air. Ernie looks worried. ERNIE I'm getting a bad feeling here. CUT TO: INT. REAR CORNER OF FREAK HOUSE - DAY Out of sight from the others, Rick approaches the rear door and tries it. It doesn't open from the inside. RICK Damn. He peers out through a crack in the door and sees a MILKMAN getting out of his truck in the driveway. RICK (TO MILKMAN) Psst! Hey, you. Milkman! 53. OUTSIDE The milkman looks over at the outhouse, suspicious. MILKMAN Yeah... ? RICK (V.0.) Just the man I'm lookinq for. Be a pal, and give me a hand will ya? MILKMAN Oooh no! I know you freaks. You'll try anything just to get someone to open that door. Well not me! Ha! He's about to walk away. RICK Okay. Guess I'll just have to milk the world's biggest breasted woman all by myself. Sorry to bother you. The milkman stops in his tracks. He tiptoes over to the back door of the outhouse, listening intently as Rick goes into his "act." RICK (in a lusty womanish VOICE) Ooohh... Milk me! Milk me now! Milk me hard! (Normal Rick voice) I've only got two hands, all right? Geez. I don't care if Elijah did give you skim milk on the right side, chocolate on the left, and eggnog in the middle. The milkman is salivating at the door. MILKMAN (TO HIMSELF) Gee, I love eggnog! The milkman opens the door eagerly and steps inside. Beat. MILKMAN Hey, what the-- BONK. We hear the sound of bottled buttermilk beaning his soft noggin. Rick walks out wearing the milkman outfit complete with the little six-milk-bottle-carrier thing. 54. He looks around and heads for the milk truck, whistling casually. He notices something. It's ... THE GIANT ELIJAH HEAD Its big eyes are staring at Rick (note: there's a skywriter plane in the distance behind the head, which finishes writing "YOU GOT THE RIGHT ONE BABY: PEPSI") Rick gets to the truck and tries the door. It's locked. RICK Shit. He looks over at the giant head. The eyes are still staring at him--they seem to have shifted. Rick shrugs it off and looks around. He walks over to Elijah's car. It's locked too. He checks the big eyes. They've moved again. Rick's getting a bit desperate. He sees something else and runs towards it. It's a dry-docked motorboat. It's locked too. The eyes have followed Rick again. He sees something else and runs over to it. It's a bag of golf clubs leaning against Elijah's porch. They're locked too. RICK Damn! This guy doesn't trust anybody! He looks at the giant head- the eyes are gone, leaving only empty eyesockets! Rick hears A BURST OF MACHINEGUN FIRE behind him, spins around and faces ... TWO THREE FOOT HIGH EYEBALLS with little arms and legs, wearing Jamaican Rasta hats and aiming smoking Uzi 9mms in the air. They aim their Uzis at Rick. One holds a walkie-talkie, the other holds a big spliff. RICK AHHHH! A T.V. MONITOR in Elijah's hands, shows Rick staring at us, the Eye's POV. ELIJAH seen in extreme close-up, watches the surveillance monitor. He speaks into a microphone. We don't see what the room looks like. ELIJAH Good work, Eye and Eye. 55. THE EYES bob in response to Elijah. They have no mouths, but their pupils open and close when they speak. EYE AND EYE (JAMAICAN ACCENTS) Rastafari. ELIJAH (V.0.) (over the walkie-talkie) Now bring the Beast Boy to my, uh, den. Ha-ha-ha-ha! Rick looks worried as they lead him towards the scary looking house. INT. ELIJAH'S DEN It's a lovely, suburban den with a coffee table full of magazines like "Better Homes and Gardens," "National Review" and "Freaks Illustrated". Elijah sits in a big Barcalounger, smoking a pipe. Rick sits on the sofa. Toad walks up with a tray of soft drinks. ELIJAH (TO RICK) Diet soda? RICK No thanks. Elijah points to a bowl of Fiddle Faddle. Toad sits beside Rick. ELIJAH Fiddle Faddle? (Rick shakes his head) You sure? RICK Well, okay. (he scoops some into his MOUTH) Well, are you gonna torture me or kill me or something? ELIJAH Torture my greatest creation ever!? Kill the final piece of the puzzle that I've been putting together for years!? Sure, it'd be fun, but I've got a bigger plan, my boy. (MORE) 56. ELIJAH(CONT'D) And when you ripped off that guy's head, I knew it was working like gangbusters! RICK But I thought I scared everyone away. ELIJAH Uh-huh. And then they told two friends, and they told two friends, and so on, and so on. Look at this. Elijah grabs a big mail bag and spills some letters out on the table. Elijah opens one and reads it. ELIJAH (READING) Dear Mister Skuggs, I was shocked and disgusted when my grandson told me about the head-popping beast at your show. Please send me six tickets. (he reads another) Dear Beast Boy, I used to like New Kids on The Block, but you're way cuter. My favorite ice cream is chocolate. Is it fun ripping people's heads off? I love you. (ANOTHER LETTER) The Beast Boy is on a blood-letting spree, and Oscar is along for the ride! (he looks up at Rick) That one's from Pat Collins! RICK Yeah, but she loves everything. Rick reaches for the Fiddle Faddle but the bowl is empty. Toad BURPS. ELIJAH Toad! That Fiddle Faddle is for guests only! You've had enough! Toad is blankfaced. Elijah walks over and refills the bowl. Rick scoops some into his mouth. Elijah walks to the fireplace and pushes the embers around with a poker. RICK Look Skuggs--Elijah--I've been in show business all my life. The public does not want to see disgusting, depraved violent filth. 57. ELIJAH Oh, and I suppose Jake and the Fatman is just a fluke? The phone rings. Elijah looks at it, and back to Rick. ELIJAH (CONT'D) I'll get it. He goes over to the phone and lifts the receiver. ELIJAH `Yello? On the other end of the line, we hear LAUGHING MAN's insane chuckle. Elijah's smooth smile fades. He turns his back to- Rick, who strains to identify the familiar laughing voice. Elijah scribbles notes on a pad by the phone. ELIJAH Yes... Right... Tomorrow... Mmhmm... Mnunhmm... Wow. Okay. You got it... Hasta la vista to you too. Hahaahahaahaha-- Laughing Man hangs up on Elijah. He looks a little pissed- off as he turns to face Rick again. Grumbling, he takes the poker in hand, and pokes at the coals angrily. ELIJAH Okay, Coogan. I'm finished with you for now. Ricky rises and snatches the notepad just before Elijah spins to face him. ELIJAH (CONT'D) But listen. I may not be "Mr. Tinseltown", but I damn well know what I like. You're gonna be a hideous killing machine, and that's final! Tomorrow night I'll finish the job onstage! And then, to demonstrate your horrible power, you'll slaughter all the old obsolete freaks in cold bl--HEY! Elijah thrusts the red hot fire poker out and ZAP! He catches Toad's ten foot tongue--curled around the searing poker inches from the Fiddle Faddle. TOAD AAAGGGGHH! 58. ELIJAH I told you enough! CUT TO: EXT. ELIJAH'S HOUSE DAY Elijah shows Rick out the door. The Eyes scurry out and leap back into the sockets in the giant head. ELIJAH Bye-bye. And remember, try another escape, and I'll feed your balls to Toad. As he walks towards the Freak House, Rick pulls out the note he pocketed. A gust of wind blows it away from him. He chases it behind the carnival tent where... KKCCLIINNK! He runs into ELEVEN PHONY MILKMEN, backing their way around the corner, each carrying their own six-pack of milkbottles. Startled, they turn around. Why, it's the freaks! And they're all dressed as milkmen! Cowboy carries the hammer, who's dressed in a little milkman suit as well. BEARDED LADY Hey Rick, I thought you were gonna come up with your own escape plan? RICK (TO JUAN) This is your big plan? A dozen milkmen? Isn't that a little unusual? Juan hadn't thought of this. He pushes himself forward and confronts Rick viciously. JUAN Twelve milkmen is theoretically possible. Thirteen is silly. Looks like one milkman too many, Coogan. He pushes Rick aside. The freaks continue past him. RICK Fine then. Go ahead. Hope you like reggae, ya flea bitten bastard. Rick watches as the Freaks approach the open courtyard, where he knows the Eyeballs will spot them. 59. Julie glances at him a second, then looks away. His mind made up, Rick takes a deep breath. RICK Ah, shit. He runs over to the Freaks. He stands in Juan's way. RICK Look, you'll all be killed. You don't know about Elijah's giant Rasta eyeballs with machine guns... (they think he's nuts) It's suicide! I can't let you do it. JUAN And I can't let you stop us. This is it. Rick and Juan square off. Juan growls and bares his teeth. Rick's MONSTER EYE starts to glow and pulse dimly. They circle each other. The others are transfixed. ELIJAH'S POV He peers through a side window, and sees the pack of milkmen cheering two of their coworkers, locked in mortal combat. ELIJAH That's a lot of milkmen on the same route. No wonder they fight. Juan rears back, about to lunge, when suddenly he freezes and looks off into the distance. A SQUIRREL is sitting innocently a few yards off. JUAN Squirrel! He zooms off after the squirrel. The Eyes pop out of the giant head and follow after him, Uzis FIRING. Juan dodges their bullets and disappears after his prey. The freaks watch their best chance of freedom run off after a pesky rodent. They turn to Rick. NOSEY Wow, giant Rasta eyeballs, just like Rick said. SOCKHEAD Gosh, if it wasn't for Rick, we'd all be dead! 60. OTHER FREAKS Yeah! Way to go Rick! Alright! ERNIE (TO JULIE) God, I can't believe he left you for a squirrel. What a dick. Julie's hurt. She doesn't even smack Ernie. RICK You know how men are. Besides, it was a pretty good looking squirrel. Julie looks at Rick. She sees he's trying to be helpful, not sarcastic. JULIE (to the others) Come on. You heard the Beast Boy. Back to the Freak House, now. Her eyes meet Rick's. She manages a smile, and Rick smiles back. Ernie sizes up the situation and groans as they all head back to the Freak House. ERNIE Not again. (TO RICK) Oh well, at least we'll get to try a new position. CUT TO: INT. STARK INTERROGATION ROOM We're moving in towards a door in this desolate, vaguely corporate looking hallway. INSIDE THE ROOM We're looking at the back of Laughing Man's leather chair. We hear his CACKLE, as well as STUEY GLUCK'S TORTURED SCREAMS and a horrible POWER TOOL NOISE. We can see the usual bright interrogation spotlight, and a couple of extra GOONS watching the goings on, but Stuey and his actual torturer are hidden by Laughing Man's chair. STUEY (O.S.) AHHHHH! STOP IT! OOOWWWWW! We move past Mr. Big's chair to reveal Stuey lying face down on a table, while Bob Vila is using a power sander on his butt. Bob is happily giving pointers to the two goons. 61. BOB Notice the way I use an elliptical motion to chafe Stuey's buttocks. (the Goons nod ATTENTIVELY) It's all here in my new book: Pipes, Fixtures, and Torturing TROLLS-- LAUGHING MAN(O.S.) (Loud, sharp laugh) A-HA-HA-HAHA-HA-HA-HA! Bob obediently shuts up. Laughing Man directs a sinister low chuckle to Stuey. STUEY No way. I'll never talk! I'm made of stone! Bob considers this a second, then starts up a jackhammer. STUEY HELP! RICK! RIIIIIIIIIICCKKK! CUT TO: INT. FREAK HOUSE - DAY We hear LONESOME HARMONICA MUSIC as we pan past the cubicles. Cowboy is playing the harmonica... The Bearded Lady unties the pretty pink ribbon in his hair and sets it aside... Suddenly, we switch to HORRIFIC PSYCHO STINGS as the camera picks up PAUL LYNDE'S CORPSE with flashing red lights. His eyeball drips out of the socket again... Then it's back to the SAD HARMONICA MUSIC. In the next cubicle, Ernie is sleeping, Julie is awake, dreamily fondling a large eclair. She looks longingly up towards Rick's cubicle as we... DREAM DISSOLVE TO: DREAMLAND Rick (his face is normal) and Julie kiss passionately in a billowy white bed amidst puffy clouds. 62. RICK (SINCERE) Julie, compared to this, sex with Julia Roberts was a thankless chore. QUICK DISSOLVE BACK TO: JULIE' We follow her gaze, panning up to Rick. He's lying on his bed, dreamily fondling a donut. He looks down towards Julie's cabin... DREAM DISSOLVE TO: DREAMLAND Rick and Julie kiss passionately. We're tight on them. JULIE Oh Rick, you've touched a place in me no one has ever touched before. ERNIE(O.S.) I'll say! Almost punctured a kidney! WIDEN to show Ernie, still attached to Julie, leering at Rick. Rick is mortified. QUICK DREAM DISSOLVE TO: INT. FREAK HOUSE - DAY Rick sits in his cubicle, visibly sickened by his daydream. Stuey's echoey voice drifts in. STUEY(V.0.) Rick! Riiiicccck! A holographic image of Stuey lying on the torture table appears over Rick. We can see the jackhammer looming over Stuey's face. Rick looks alarmed. STUEY HOLOGRAM Rick! Do something! It's up to you, Rick! Pleeeeeeease! LAUGHING MAN (O.S) Aha-hee-hee-ho-ho-har-har-har! 63. RICK The Laughing Man! Rick watches the hologram break up and disappear. Wheels spinning in his head, he takes the crumpled piece of paper out of his pocket and reads it. RICK (under his breath) Holy shit! JULIE/ERNIE'S CUBICLE Julie and Ernie are struggling over a bottle of deodorant. ERNIE It says it's strong enough for a man! JULIE But it's made for a woman! She grabs it away and shoves it in Ernie's mouth. Rick walks in. JULIE Hey Rick. What's up? RICK Read this. I grabbed it from Skuggs' office. He hands her the notepaper. She reads it, with some difficulty. Ernie is still gagging on deodorant. JULIE "Tape Donahue... Renew Subscription to Beaver World..." Eeuw! She gives Rick a disgusted look. Ernie mumbles with the deodorant in his mouth. ERNIE (interested, muffled) Beaver World!? Julie smacks him--he swallows the deodorant. RICK (TO JULIE) After that. 64. JULIE "Prepare demonstration for Laughing Man, receive five thousand barrels of Noxon." Five thousand barrels!? RICK Elijah's up to something big, and we have to stop him. Ernie BELCHES. Rick sniffs the air. RICK Mmmm. Jasmine. SWISH PAN TO: INT. FREAK HOUSE - DAY Rick takes a deep breath, and begins his presentation to the freaks assembled before him. RICK Alright guys, listen up-- Sockhead suddenly freaks out. SOCKHEAD We're done for! We're done for! I don't want to die! It's the end of the world! The apocalypse! Aahh! He stops. Everyone is staring at him. RICK I haven't said anything yet. SOCKHEAD Sorry. I'm not much for timing. He takes his seat again. RICK (TO EVERYONE) Tomorrow night, at the show, I'll be turned into a homicidal monster and forced to kill you all. But we might have a chance if we act fast. And I'm prepared to be your new leader. A THRILLING CHORD. 65. NOSEY (TO SOCKHEAD) I say we kill him. Sockhead nods. RICK And I've got a plan. ANOTHER THRILLING CHORD. NOSEY I still say we kill him. Sockhead nods again. RICK If we can get into Elijah's lab, maybe we can-- WORM Of course! Design a super freak of our own and manipulate the genetic code to make him destroy Elijah instead of us! Brilliant! RICK Oh. Well-- BEARDED LADY But how do we get to the lab? RICK Um, maybe-- COWBOY Right! The worm could dig a tunnel! WORM By God, it's so crazy it might just work! ERNIE But you need Noxon 24 to make the freaking sludge, and Elijah told us himself he's run out of it. RICK Oh. Oh yeah. Well, see, what I was going to say was-- 66. JULIE Yes! Exactly! If they've been using Noxon 24 as a fertilizer here, the entire ecosystem must be soaked with it! All we need is a way to extract it from the vegetation, ideally into a liquid form. RICK Right. Well, what about-- COWBOY Golly! So that's why my milk comes out that funny green color! I thought the grass tasted funny! Wow, Rick, you're a genius! JULIE (SMILES WARMLY) Good thinking, Rick. The freaks all nod in agreement. NOSEY Way to go, Rick! How did you ever think of such a plan? Rick pulls out an old comic book and points to an ad for Sea Monkeys. RICK Well, actually, I was going to suggest we send away for sea monkeys, train them to fire guns, and make a break for it. But if you want to go with this other thing, I guess that's okay. The freaks stare at him, not sure if he's kidding or not. CUT TO: INT. FREAK HOUSE - NIGHT FREAKS ON A MISSION MONTAGE, SET TO A POUNDING "EYE OF THE TIGER"-TYPE SONG -Nosey milks Cowboy, squirting the glowing milk into a funnel which feeds into a crude still. The Torch heats the boiler. -The Worm digs the tunnel. JulieErnie hand Rick pieces of wood which he puts into place as tunnel supports. They hand him Paul Lynde's corpse and he wedges it in as well. 67. -Everyone's getting into it and working up a sweat. Nosey wipes his brow, opens a bottle of Pepsi and chugs it down in a beautifully lit slo-mo product shot... The other freaks follow suit, including the Worm, down in the tunnel, who struggles to hold the bottle in his tiny feeler. Everything's going great and the song is really pumping when... ELIJAH runs out on his front porch in his nightclothes and screams down at the outhouse. ELIJAH WOULD YOU TURN DOWN THAT GODDAMN RACKET!? IN THE FREAK HOUSE Nosey turns off a boom box and the music cuts short. The freaks exchange tense looks. Nosey calls out apologetically to Elijah. NOSEY SOR-RY. (to the freaks) What a jerk! INT. UNDERGROUND TUNNEL The Worm burrows along, leaving a tunnel wide enough for Rick and JulieErnie to crawl after him. Rick notices a ray of light coming through a rock formation. RICK Hey, look at this! They all stop and look. Rick fingers the hole, and the rocks cave in, revealing A VAST UNDERGROUND CITY It's obviously a matte painting. WORM Good Lord! It's the Lost City of Nodd! JULIE Wow! 68. KER-CHUNK! We hear the sound of a slide projector switching slides and the underground city is replaced by a still image of some tourists standing around a geyser. [foriegn version: the Blarney Stone]. RICK It's Old Faithful! (foriegn take: "It's the Blarney Stone!"] They "Ooh" and "Ahh". The image switches to a snapshot of a FAT MIDDLE-AGED WOMAN. ERNIE It's my Aunt Gladys! The other freaks nod politely. The image switches to a BAR MITZVAH PHOTO. ERNIE And that's me at my bar mitzvah! RICK C'mon Ernie, let's go. ERNIE Wait, you gotta see the ones from sleep-away camp! They're hilarious! Julie smacks him. JULIE Stooge! EXT. FREAK COMPOUND - NIGHT It's an "Antfarm View" of the yard, where the freaks are visible tunneling underground, and Toad is visible on the yard above them. We see a bat fly overhead... ZAP! Toad shoots out his tongue, snags it out of mid air, and chews it happily, oblivious to the freaks burrowing right underneath him. INT. FREAK HOUSE Nosey looks at the nearly full container of distilled Noxon. NOSEY Almost there. (he sniffs the air) But wait, I'm getting a whiff of things to come! 69. BEARDED LADY What do you smell? NOSEY (GRIM) Blood. Bearded Lady looks grave..Nosey sniffs again. NOSEY (CHEERFUL) And hot buttered popcorn! BEARDED LADY Awwright! INT. TUNNEL They're burrowing along. Ernie loudly clears his throat. Julie spits out a loogie. She grimaces. JULIE I hate when you do that. We hear muffled BARKING. ERNIE Hey! Do you hear that? JULIE It's a dog! RICK (TO WORM) Hurry! The Worm breaks through into a small cavern with several exposed sewer pipes. A lovable mutt leaps out of a pipe and drops an old tennis ball in front of Rick. He starts licking Rick's face. RICK Scrappy! SAPPY MUSIC wells up. RICK It's been ten years since you chased this ball into the sewer! I thought you were gone for good! SCRAPPY Yap! 70. RICK Listen Scrap. Go home. Get help. Understand? SCRAPPY Yap! RICK Good boy! Now go! Scrappy runs away into the sewer pipe. Rick shrugs. RICK You never know. Julie taps on some exposed wood on the cavern ceiling. JULIE Look, a wood floor. WORM It must be the lab! we've done it! They all look at each other excitedly. Suddenly Elijah's voice rings out behind them. ELIJAH'S VOICE Not so fast, you scabrous freaks! They spin around and see Nosey holding the bottle of Noxon 24. He grins. NOSEY Didn't know I did impressions, did ya? INT. FREAK HOUSE The freaks are waiting around the hole. Nosey pops out. NOSEY Mission accomplished. They've got the Noxon, and they'll be in the lab within minutes. FROGMAN Boy, this is going like clockwork! Everyone smiles, pats each other on the back, etc. Except Sockhead, who finally snaps. SOCKHEAD No! Can't you see we're digging our own graves!? (MORE) 71. It's nuts, SOCKHEAD(cont'd) that's what it is! Nuts! Well, maybe you've all got a deathwish, but you can count me out! I'M GETTING THE HELL OUT OF HERE! He runs amok, pushes various freaks to the ground, and runs around screaming. The freak house door opens--Eye and Eye step in to check out the noise. One of them has a spliff sticking out of its pupil. Sockhead charges at them like a mad dog. They aim their Uzis. SOCKHEAD (at the Eyes) OUT OF MY WAY! RATTA-RATTA-RATTA! They spray an ungodly amount of bullets into Sockhead. He falls to the ground. The Eyes leave. The freaks gather around Sockhead. Nosey pulls the sock off his hand head, which is making a little "Senor Pepe" face with its fist. It spits up a trickle of blood and tries to speak. SOCKHEAD (WEAK) I... I... just... wanna...say... NOSEY What is it, kid? SOCKHEAD Ah, forget it. I'm not much for dying. He goes limp. CUT TO: INT. ELIJAH'S LAB JulieErnie, the Worm, and Rick are just emerging from the hole. It's really dark in the lab. ERNIE Shit. I can't see a damn thing. RICK Keep your voice down, Ernie. ERNIE Don't push me, Coog. I got a real short fuse today. I'm cranky, bloated, got a wicked case of cramps. Don't ask why. 72. JULIE (whispers to Rick) PMS... RICK (has to think about this) Oh.... Right. Rick pats Ernie on the shoulder reassuringly. He moves over to Elijah's computer terminal. RICK (CONT'D) Well, here it is--the control panel for Elijah's Freaking process. WORM Good work, my boy. Now step aside. This is scientist's work. Worm muscles Rick out of the way and sits at the console. Using a pen held in his mouth, he flicks a series of switches and punches a fast series of computer keys. The light on top of the Tasty Freekz machine starts to revolve, and after a couple of seconds, a stream of GOOEY LIGHT BROWN GLOP oozes out of the spigot. ERNIE Hey! It's working! RICK You did it, Worm! Way to go! JULIE But how? You didn't even use the Noxon. The Worm rushes over to the container of glop below the spigot, and without hesitation, plunges his face into it! Rick, Julie, and Ernie gasp in horror! The WORM lifts his glop-smeared face out of the bowl, and smacks his

nasty

How many times the word 'nasty' appears in the text?

{I'M UGLY} Into this breathing world, scarse half made up, {I'M REALLY UGLY} And that so lamely and unfashionable, That dogs bark at me as I halt by them. {I'M F KIN' BUTT-UGLY, ALRIGHT!?} Why I, in this weak piping time of peace, {BLAH, BLAH, BLAH} Have no delight to pass away the time, {I NEVER GET LAID...} Unless to see my shadow in the sun, And descant on mine own deformity! {BECAUSE I'M UGLY} Rick bows. The crowd bursts into applause. They yell "Bravo" and throw bouquets. Rick takes several curtain calls. The freaks cheer for him. Julie is particularly moved--she and Rick exchange a heavy look, laden with romantic potential. NOTE: We will insert an almost subliminal one-frame shot of the Pepsi logo at this triumphant moment. Kevin, the EES executive from the airport scene, walks into the tent. Rick sees him and gasps with joy. He leaps off the stage, runs up to Kevin and hugs him. Kevin is shocked, of course. Overcome by the moment, Rick regresses to his old self. RICK I'm saved! Haha! You sorry mutants are gonna rot in this hole while I'm sipping mint juleps by the pool! {AS FORTUNE SMILES O'ER MY FATE, SO DESTINY SPURNS YOUR ACCURSE'D PATE} The freaks and the audience gasp at Rick's cruelty. Julie is shocked--Juan gives her an "I told you so" look. Rick sees Julie and catches himself. 49. RICK (TO KEVIN) I mean, um, I hope you have room for all my friends, heh-heh. KEVIN Rick, Rick, listen, I really love this new look you've come up with. But just between you and me, I don't think the guys upstairs would really get it. RICK What are you saying!? KEVIN (CHUCKLES SNIDELY) I'm saying you're ugly enough to burn the nosehairs off a dead nun. The crowd bursts into cruel hysterics, pointing mockingly at Rick. Even Alistair Cooke is practically choking with laughter. ALISTAIR COOKE AH-HA-HA-HA! WHAT A PUTZ! Rick looks around, horrified at the sea of evil, jeering faces. He begins to tremble. Then... RICK'S MONSTER EYE springs to life for the first time and glows red with rage. His whole monster side awakens and takes charge of his body with violent intensity. He grabs Kevin's head and screams in a new, monstrous voice. RICK EAT SHIT! POP! He plucks Kevin's head off his neck and holds it aloft. The head stares down at Rick in disbelief. KEVIN'S HEAD Now you're just being childish. Rick serves the head like a volleyball, smashing it to bits. The crowd panics and charges for the exits. CROWD AHHHHHH! HELP! LET US OUT OF HERE! People are trampling over each other in the mayhem. Alistair Cooke is crushed under the stampede. 50. The freaks are horrified. Monster Rick growls triumphantly. Elijah looks on, intrigued. ELIJAH Now that's entertainment. INT. FREAK HOUSE - MORNING Rick awakens with a start and gets up. He approaches JulieErnie, The Bearded Lady, Nosey and Dog Boy, who are idly playing a game of "Wheel of Fortune." The cubicles contain large blank blocks, like the "letters" on the game show. So far, there's a "D", two "S"s, and a "K" revealed. Rosie the Pinhead plays Vanna White's role. NOSEY I'd like to buy a vowel. The Bearded lady yawns. Rick edges towards them. RICK Hey. The Wheel. Mind if I sit in? Juan advances towards Rick, sneering. JUAN So. Now you don't mind mixing with us--how did you say it--sorry mutants? RICK Look! I'm sorry for what happened at the show. Can't you just forget it? He shakes his finger at Juan, and notices there's still a human nose stuck on his monster claw. He wipes it off, embarrassed. There's an awkward pause. Ernie breaks the silence. ERNIE Hey, shouldn't you tell Rick about your big escape plan? Juan gives Ernie a nasty "shut up" look. He growls at him. ERNIE Well, excuse me for living. RICK You have an escape plan? JUAN Listen, Beast Boy, the games are a simple diversion. (MORE) 51. JUAN(CONT'D) Beneath our twisted flesh we freaks cry out for freedom! Aooooooorrraaaagh! Juan howls lustily. He looks to rest of the freaks. They're a pathetic lot, and their half-hearted howl proves it. FREAKS Aoo... Beat. JULIE Juan's plan is really ingenious Rick. See, he figured out that-- JUAN I figured out that our escape does not include the Beast Boy. No one may discuss the plan with him, understand? Juan gives the others a threatening look. They mumble agreement. RICK What's the matter with all of you? You trust your lives to a guy just 'cause he can lick his own privates? The freaks ponder this a second, then nod "yes". ERNIE You gotta admit, Coog, it's a helluva trick. RICK (RESENTFUL) Fine! I'll just come up with an escape plan of my own then. JUAN Haha! I have spent a year studying this hellhole, devising the perfect escape. You think you'll just tango right out the door!? Ha! Just try it, amigo. RICK I will! Rick turns to go. JulieErnie rush over and try to reason with him quietly. 52. JULIE Rick, wait. ERNIE Yeah. Don't go off half-cocked. Believe me, it ain't all it's cracked up to be. JULIE This isn't one of your dumb movies, Coogan. Look, Juan's a good dog, a smart dog. I'll talk to him. Don't be stupid, Rick. You can't do it without us. RICK Forget it! I don't need you, EES, or anybody else! I'll get out of here all by myself, you... you.,. crud sucking pus monkeys! DING DING DING! The letters in the Wheel of Fortune board light up, and ROSIE turns them over to reveal "Crud Sucking Pus Monkeys" as the secret phrase. Everyone claps despite themselves. Juan stares them down. They stop. Rick storms off in a huff. Juan takes Julie's hand and gazes deep into her eyes. He kisses her passionately. Julie is watching Rick leave. Juan nibbles her neck, which gets her attention. She scratches Juan behind his ear. His leg instinctively kicks the air. Ernie looks worried. ERNIE I'm getting a bad feeling here. CUT TO: INT. REAR CORNER OF FREAK HOUSE - DAY Out of sight from the others, Rick approaches the rear door and tries it. It doesn't open from the inside. RICK Damn. He peers out through a crack in the door and sees a MILKMAN getting out of his truck in the driveway. RICK (TO MILKMAN) Psst! Hey, you. Milkman! 53. OUTSIDE The milkman looks over at the outhouse, suspicious. MILKMAN Yeah... ? RICK (V.0.) Just the man I'm lookinq for. Be a pal, and give me a hand will ya? MILKMAN Oooh no! I know you freaks. You'll try anything just to get someone to open that door. Well not me! Ha! He's about to walk away. RICK Okay. Guess I'll just have to milk the world's biggest breasted woman all by myself. Sorry to bother you. The milkman stops in his tracks. He tiptoes over to the back door of the outhouse, listening intently as Rick goes into his "act." RICK (in a lusty womanish VOICE) Ooohh... Milk me! Milk me now! Milk me hard! (Normal Rick voice) I've only got two hands, all right? Geez. I don't care if Elijah did give you skim milk on the right side, chocolate on the left, and eggnog in the middle. The milkman is salivating at the door. MILKMAN (TO HIMSELF) Gee, I love eggnog! The milkman opens the door eagerly and steps inside. Beat. MILKMAN Hey, what the-- BONK. We hear the sound of bottled buttermilk beaning his soft noggin. Rick walks out wearing the milkman outfit complete with the little six-milk-bottle-carrier thing. 54. He looks around and heads for the milk truck, whistling casually. He notices something. It's ... THE GIANT ELIJAH HEAD Its big eyes are staring at Rick (note: there's a skywriter plane in the distance behind the head, which finishes writing "YOU GOT THE RIGHT ONE BABY: PEPSI") Rick gets to the truck and tries the door. It's locked. RICK Shit. He looks over at the giant head. The eyes are still staring at him--they seem to have shifted. Rick shrugs it off and looks around. He walks over to Elijah's car. It's locked too. He checks the big eyes. They've moved again. Rick's getting a bit desperate. He sees something else and runs towards it. It's a dry-docked motorboat. It's locked too. The eyes have followed Rick again. He sees something else and runs over to it. It's a bag of golf clubs leaning against Elijah's porch. They're locked too. RICK Damn! This guy doesn't trust anybody! He looks at the giant head- the eyes are gone, leaving only empty eyesockets! Rick hears A BURST OF MACHINEGUN FIRE behind him, spins around and faces ... TWO THREE FOOT HIGH EYEBALLS with little arms and legs, wearing Jamaican Rasta hats and aiming smoking Uzi 9mms in the air. They aim their Uzis at Rick. One holds a walkie-talkie, the other holds a big spliff. RICK AHHHH! A T.V. MONITOR in Elijah's hands, shows Rick staring at us, the Eye's POV. ELIJAH seen in extreme close-up, watches the surveillance monitor. He speaks into a microphone. We don't see what the room looks like. ELIJAH Good work, Eye and Eye. 55. THE EYES bob in response to Elijah. They have no mouths, but their pupils open and close when they speak. EYE AND EYE (JAMAICAN ACCENTS) Rastafari. ELIJAH (V.0.) (over the walkie-talkie) Now bring the Beast Boy to my, uh, den. Ha-ha-ha-ha! Rick looks worried as they lead him towards the scary looking house. INT. ELIJAH'S DEN It's a lovely, suburban den with a coffee table full of magazines like "Better Homes and Gardens," "National Review" and "Freaks Illustrated". Elijah sits in a big Barcalounger, smoking a pipe. Rick sits on the sofa. Toad walks up with a tray of soft drinks. ELIJAH (TO RICK) Diet soda? RICK No thanks. Elijah points to a bowl of Fiddle Faddle. Toad sits beside Rick. ELIJAH Fiddle Faddle? (Rick shakes his head) You sure? RICK Well, okay. (he scoops some into his MOUTH) Well, are you gonna torture me or kill me or something? ELIJAH Torture my greatest creation ever!? Kill the final piece of the puzzle that I've been putting together for years!? Sure, it'd be fun, but I've got a bigger plan, my boy. (MORE) 56. ELIJAH(CONT'D) And when you ripped off that guy's head, I knew it was working like gangbusters! RICK But I thought I scared everyone away. ELIJAH Uh-huh. And then they told two friends, and they told two friends, and so on, and so on. Look at this. Elijah grabs a big mail bag and spills some letters out on the table. Elijah opens one and reads it. ELIJAH (READING) Dear Mister Skuggs, I was shocked and disgusted when my grandson told me about the head-popping beast at your show. Please send me six tickets. (he reads another) Dear Beast Boy, I used to like New Kids on The Block, but you're way cuter. My favorite ice cream is chocolate. Is it fun ripping people's heads off? I love you. (ANOTHER LETTER) The Beast Boy is on a blood-letting spree, and Oscar is along for the ride! (he looks up at Rick) That one's from Pat Collins! RICK Yeah, but she loves everything. Rick reaches for the Fiddle Faddle but the bowl is empty. Toad BURPS. ELIJAH Toad! That Fiddle Faddle is for guests only! You've had enough! Toad is blankfaced. Elijah walks over and refills the bowl. Rick scoops some into his mouth. Elijah walks to the fireplace and pushes the embers around with a poker. RICK Look Skuggs--Elijah--I've been in show business all my life. The public does not want to see disgusting, depraved violent filth. 57. ELIJAH Oh, and I suppose Jake and the Fatman is just a fluke? The phone rings. Elijah looks at it, and back to Rick. ELIJAH (CONT'D) I'll get it. He goes over to the phone and lifts the receiver. ELIJAH `Yello? On the other end of the line, we hear LAUGHING MAN's insane chuckle. Elijah's smooth smile fades. He turns his back to- Rick, who strains to identify the familiar laughing voice. Elijah scribbles notes on a pad by the phone. ELIJAH Yes... Right... Tomorrow... Mmhmm... Mnunhmm... Wow. Okay. You got it... Hasta la vista to you too. Hahaahahaahaha-- Laughing Man hangs up on Elijah. He looks a little pissed- off as he turns to face Rick again. Grumbling, he takes the poker in hand, and pokes at the coals angrily. ELIJAH Okay, Coogan. I'm finished with you for now. Ricky rises and snatches the notepad just before Elijah spins to face him. ELIJAH (CONT'D) But listen. I may not be "Mr. Tinseltown", but I damn well know what I like. You're gonna be a hideous killing machine, and that's final! Tomorrow night I'll finish the job onstage! And then, to demonstrate your horrible power, you'll slaughter all the old obsolete freaks in cold bl--HEY! Elijah thrusts the red hot fire poker out and ZAP! He catches Toad's ten foot tongue--curled around the searing poker inches from the Fiddle Faddle. TOAD AAAGGGGHH! 58. ELIJAH I told you enough! CUT TO: EXT. ELIJAH'S HOUSE DAY Elijah shows Rick out the door. The Eyes scurry out and leap back into the sockets in the giant head. ELIJAH Bye-bye. And remember, try another escape, and I'll feed your balls to Toad. As he walks towards the Freak House, Rick pulls out the note he pocketed. A gust of wind blows it away from him. He chases it behind the carnival tent where... KKCCLIINNK! He runs into ELEVEN PHONY MILKMEN, backing their way around the corner, each carrying their own six-pack of milkbottles. Startled, they turn around. Why, it's the freaks! And they're all dressed as milkmen! Cowboy carries the hammer, who's dressed in a little milkman suit as well. BEARDED LADY Hey Rick, I thought you were gonna come up with your own escape plan? RICK (TO JUAN) This is your big plan? A dozen milkmen? Isn't that a little unusual? Juan hadn't thought of this. He pushes himself forward and confronts Rick viciously. JUAN Twelve milkmen is theoretically possible. Thirteen is silly. Looks like one milkman too many, Coogan. He pushes Rick aside. The freaks continue past him. RICK Fine then. Go ahead. Hope you like reggae, ya flea bitten bastard. Rick watches as the Freaks approach the open courtyard, where he knows the Eyeballs will spot them. 59. Julie glances at him a second, then looks away. His mind made up, Rick takes a deep breath. RICK Ah, shit. He runs over to the Freaks. He stands in Juan's way. RICK Look, you'll all be killed. You don't know about Elijah's giant Rasta eyeballs with machine guns... (they think he's nuts) It's suicide! I can't let you do it. JUAN And I can't let you stop us. This is it. Rick and Juan square off. Juan growls and bares his teeth. Rick's MONSTER EYE starts to glow and pulse dimly. They circle each other. The others are transfixed. ELIJAH'S POV He peers through a side window, and sees the pack of milkmen cheering two of their coworkers, locked in mortal combat. ELIJAH That's a lot of milkmen on the same route. No wonder they fight. Juan rears back, about to lunge, when suddenly he freezes and looks off into the distance. A SQUIRREL is sitting innocently a few yards off. JUAN Squirrel! He zooms off after the squirrel. The Eyes pop out of the giant head and follow after him, Uzis FIRING. Juan dodges their bullets and disappears after his prey. The freaks watch their best chance of freedom run off after a pesky rodent. They turn to Rick. NOSEY Wow, giant Rasta eyeballs, just like Rick said. SOCKHEAD Gosh, if it wasn't for Rick, we'd all be dead! 60. OTHER FREAKS Yeah! Way to go Rick! Alright! ERNIE (TO JULIE) God, I can't believe he left you for a squirrel. What a dick. Julie's hurt. She doesn't even smack Ernie. RICK You know how men are. Besides, it was a pretty good looking squirrel. Julie looks at Rick. She sees he's trying to be helpful, not sarcastic. JULIE (to the others) Come on. You heard the Beast Boy. Back to the Freak House, now. Her eyes meet Rick's. She manages a smile, and Rick smiles back. Ernie sizes up the situation and groans as they all head back to the Freak House. ERNIE Not again. (TO RICK) Oh well, at least we'll get to try a new position. CUT TO: INT. STARK INTERROGATION ROOM We're moving in towards a door in this desolate, vaguely corporate looking hallway. INSIDE THE ROOM We're looking at the back of Laughing Man's leather chair. We hear his CACKLE, as well as STUEY GLUCK'S TORTURED SCREAMS and a horrible POWER TOOL NOISE. We can see the usual bright interrogation spotlight, and a couple of extra GOONS watching the goings on, but Stuey and his actual torturer are hidden by Laughing Man's chair. STUEY (O.S.) AHHHHH! STOP IT! OOOWWWWW! We move past Mr. Big's chair to reveal Stuey lying face down on a table, while Bob Vila is using a power sander on his butt. Bob is happily giving pointers to the two goons. 61. BOB Notice the way I use an elliptical motion to chafe Stuey's buttocks. (the Goons nod ATTENTIVELY) It's all here in my new book: Pipes, Fixtures, and Torturing TROLLS-- LAUGHING MAN(O.S.) (Loud, sharp laugh) A-HA-HA-HAHA-HA-HA-HA! Bob obediently shuts up. Laughing Man directs a sinister low chuckle to Stuey. STUEY No way. I'll never talk! I'm made of stone! Bob considers this a second, then starts up a jackhammer. STUEY HELP! RICK! RIIIIIIIIIICCKKK! CUT TO: INT. FREAK HOUSE - DAY We hear LONESOME HARMONICA MUSIC as we pan past the cubicles. Cowboy is playing the harmonica... The Bearded Lady unties the pretty pink ribbon in his hair and sets it aside... Suddenly, we switch to HORRIFIC PSYCHO STINGS as the camera picks up PAUL LYNDE'S CORPSE with flashing red lights. His eyeball drips out of the socket again... Then it's back to the SAD HARMONICA MUSIC. In the next cubicle, Ernie is sleeping, Julie is awake, dreamily fondling a large eclair. She looks longingly up towards Rick's cubicle as we... DREAM DISSOLVE TO: DREAMLAND Rick (his face is normal) and Julie kiss passionately in a billowy white bed amidst puffy clouds. 62. RICK (SINCERE) Julie, compared to this, sex with Julia Roberts was a thankless chore. QUICK DISSOLVE BACK TO: JULIE' We follow her gaze, panning up to Rick. He's lying on his bed, dreamily fondling a donut. He looks down towards Julie's cabin... DREAM DISSOLVE TO: DREAMLAND Rick and Julie kiss passionately. We're tight on them. JULIE Oh Rick, you've touched a place in me no one has ever touched before. ERNIE(O.S.) I'll say! Almost punctured a kidney! WIDEN to show Ernie, still attached to Julie, leering at Rick. Rick is mortified. QUICK DREAM DISSOLVE TO: INT. FREAK HOUSE - DAY Rick sits in his cubicle, visibly sickened by his daydream. Stuey's echoey voice drifts in. STUEY(V.0.) Rick! Riiiicccck! A holographic image of Stuey lying on the torture table appears over Rick. We can see the jackhammer looming over Stuey's face. Rick looks alarmed. STUEY HOLOGRAM Rick! Do something! It's up to you, Rick! Pleeeeeeease! LAUGHING MAN (O.S) Aha-hee-hee-ho-ho-har-har-har! 63. RICK The Laughing Man! Rick watches the hologram break up and disappear. Wheels spinning in his head, he takes the crumpled piece of paper out of his pocket and reads it. RICK (under his breath) Holy shit! JULIE/ERNIE'S CUBICLE Julie and Ernie are struggling over a bottle of deodorant. ERNIE It says it's strong enough for a man! JULIE But it's made for a woman! She grabs it away and shoves it in Ernie's mouth. Rick walks in. JULIE Hey Rick. What's up? RICK Read this. I grabbed it from Skuggs' office. He hands her the notepaper. She reads it, with some difficulty. Ernie is still gagging on deodorant. JULIE "Tape Donahue... Renew Subscription to Beaver World..." Eeuw! She gives Rick a disgusted look. Ernie mumbles with the deodorant in his mouth. ERNIE (interested, muffled) Beaver World!? Julie smacks him--he swallows the deodorant. RICK (TO JULIE) After that. 64. JULIE "Prepare demonstration for Laughing Man, receive five thousand barrels of Noxon." Five thousand barrels!? RICK Elijah's up to something big, and we have to stop him. Ernie BELCHES. Rick sniffs the air. RICK Mmmm. Jasmine. SWISH PAN TO: INT. FREAK HOUSE - DAY Rick takes a deep breath, and begins his presentation to the freaks assembled before him. RICK Alright guys, listen up-- Sockhead suddenly freaks out. SOCKHEAD We're done for! We're done for! I don't want to die! It's the end of the world! The apocalypse! Aahh! He stops. Everyone is staring at him. RICK I haven't said anything yet. SOCKHEAD Sorry. I'm not much for timing. He takes his seat again. RICK (TO EVERYONE) Tomorrow night, at the show, I'll be turned into a homicidal monster and forced to kill you all. But we might have a chance if we act fast. And I'm prepared to be your new leader. A THRILLING CHORD. 65. NOSEY (TO SOCKHEAD) I say we kill him. Sockhead nods. RICK And I've got a plan. ANOTHER THRILLING CHORD. NOSEY I still say we kill him. Sockhead nods again. RICK If we can get into Elijah's lab, maybe we can-- WORM Of course! Design a super freak of our own and manipulate the genetic code to make him destroy Elijah instead of us! Brilliant! RICK Oh. Well-- BEARDED LADY But how do we get to the lab? RICK Um, maybe-- COWBOY Right! The worm could dig a tunnel! WORM By God, it's so crazy it might just work! ERNIE But you need Noxon 24 to make the freaking sludge, and Elijah told us himself he's run out of it. RICK Oh. Oh yeah. Well, see, what I was going to say was-- 66. JULIE Yes! Exactly! If they've been using Noxon 24 as a fertilizer here, the entire ecosystem must be soaked with it! All we need is a way to extract it from the vegetation, ideally into a liquid form. RICK Right. Well, what about-- COWBOY Golly! So that's why my milk comes out that funny green color! I thought the grass tasted funny! Wow, Rick, you're a genius! JULIE (SMILES WARMLY) Good thinking, Rick. The freaks all nod in agreement. NOSEY Way to go, Rick! How did you ever think of such a plan? Rick pulls out an old comic book and points to an ad for Sea Monkeys. RICK Well, actually, I was going to suggest we send away for sea monkeys, train them to fire guns, and make a break for it. But if you want to go with this other thing, I guess that's okay. The freaks stare at him, not sure if he's kidding or not. CUT TO: INT. FREAK HOUSE - NIGHT FREAKS ON A MISSION MONTAGE, SET TO A POUNDING "EYE OF THE TIGER"-TYPE SONG -Nosey milks Cowboy, squirting the glowing milk into a funnel which feeds into a crude still. The Torch heats the boiler. -The Worm digs the tunnel. JulieErnie hand Rick pieces of wood which he puts into place as tunnel supports. They hand him Paul Lynde's corpse and he wedges it in as well. 67. -Everyone's getting into it and working up a sweat. Nosey wipes his brow, opens a bottle of Pepsi and chugs it down in a beautifully lit slo-mo product shot... The other freaks follow suit, including the Worm, down in the tunnel, who struggles to hold the bottle in his tiny feeler. Everything's going great and the song is really pumping when... ELIJAH runs out on his front porch in his nightclothes and screams down at the outhouse. ELIJAH WOULD YOU TURN DOWN THAT GODDAMN RACKET!? IN THE FREAK HOUSE Nosey turns off a boom box and the music cuts short. The freaks exchange tense looks. Nosey calls out apologetically to Elijah. NOSEY SOR-RY. (to the freaks) What a jerk! INT. UNDERGROUND TUNNEL The Worm burrows along, leaving a tunnel wide enough for Rick and JulieErnie to crawl after him. Rick notices a ray of light coming through a rock formation. RICK Hey, look at this! They all stop and look. Rick fingers the hole, and the rocks cave in, revealing A VAST UNDERGROUND CITY It's obviously a matte painting. WORM Good Lord! It's the Lost City of Nodd! JULIE Wow! 68. KER-CHUNK! We hear the sound of a slide projector switching slides and the underground city is replaced by a still image of some tourists standing around a geyser. [foriegn version: the Blarney Stone]. RICK It's Old Faithful! (foriegn take: "It's the Blarney Stone!"] They "Ooh" and "Ahh". The image switches to a snapshot of a FAT MIDDLE-AGED WOMAN. ERNIE It's my Aunt Gladys! The other freaks nod politely. The image switches to a BAR MITZVAH PHOTO. ERNIE And that's me at my bar mitzvah! RICK C'mon Ernie, let's go. ERNIE Wait, you gotta see the ones from sleep-away camp! They're hilarious! Julie smacks him. JULIE Stooge! EXT. FREAK COMPOUND - NIGHT It's an "Antfarm View" of the yard, where the freaks are visible tunneling underground, and Toad is visible on the yard above them. We see a bat fly overhead... ZAP! Toad shoots out his tongue, snags it out of mid air, and chews it happily, oblivious to the freaks burrowing right underneath him. INT. FREAK HOUSE Nosey looks at the nearly full container of distilled Noxon. NOSEY Almost there. (he sniffs the air) But wait, I'm getting a whiff of things to come! 69. BEARDED LADY What do you smell? NOSEY (GRIM) Blood. Bearded Lady looks grave..Nosey sniffs again. NOSEY (CHEERFUL) And hot buttered popcorn! BEARDED LADY Awwright! INT. TUNNEL They're burrowing along. Ernie loudly clears his throat. Julie spits out a loogie. She grimaces. JULIE I hate when you do that. We hear muffled BARKING. ERNIE Hey! Do you hear that? JULIE It's a dog! RICK (TO WORM) Hurry! The Worm breaks through into a small cavern with several exposed sewer pipes. A lovable mutt leaps out of a pipe and drops an old tennis ball in front of Rick. He starts licking Rick's face. RICK Scrappy! SAPPY MUSIC wells up. RICK It's been ten years since you chased this ball into the sewer! I thought you were gone for good! SCRAPPY Yap! 70. RICK Listen Scrap. Go home. Get help. Understand? SCRAPPY Yap! RICK Good boy! Now go! Scrappy runs away into the sewer pipe. Rick shrugs. RICK You never know. Julie taps on some exposed wood on the cavern ceiling. JULIE Look, a wood floor. WORM It must be the lab! we've done it! They all look at each other excitedly. Suddenly Elijah's voice rings out behind them. ELIJAH'S VOICE Not so fast, you scabrous freaks! They spin around and see Nosey holding the bottle of Noxon 24. He grins. NOSEY Didn't know I did impressions, did ya? INT. FREAK HOUSE The freaks are waiting around the hole. Nosey pops out. NOSEY Mission accomplished. They've got the Noxon, and they'll be in the lab within minutes. FROGMAN Boy, this is going like clockwork! Everyone smiles, pats each other on the back, etc. Except Sockhead, who finally snaps. SOCKHEAD No! Can't you see we're digging our own graves!? (MORE) 71. It's nuts, SOCKHEAD(cont'd) that's what it is! Nuts! Well, maybe you've all got a deathwish, but you can count me out! I'M GETTING THE HELL OUT OF HERE! He runs amok, pushes various freaks to the ground, and runs around screaming. The freak house door opens--Eye and Eye step in to check out the noise. One of them has a spliff sticking out of its pupil. Sockhead charges at them like a mad dog. They aim their Uzis. SOCKHEAD (at the Eyes) OUT OF MY WAY! RATTA-RATTA-RATTA! They spray an ungodly amount of bullets into Sockhead. He falls to the ground. The Eyes leave. The freaks gather around Sockhead. Nosey pulls the sock off his hand head, which is making a little "Senor Pepe" face with its fist. It spits up a trickle of blood and tries to speak. SOCKHEAD (WEAK) I... I... just... wanna...say... NOSEY What is it, kid? SOCKHEAD Ah, forget it. I'm not much for dying. He goes limp. CUT TO: INT. ELIJAH'S LAB JulieErnie, the Worm, and Rick are just emerging from the hole. It's really dark in the lab. ERNIE Shit. I can't see a damn thing. RICK Keep your voice down, Ernie. ERNIE Don't push me, Coog. I got a real short fuse today. I'm cranky, bloated, got a wicked case of cramps. Don't ask why. 72. JULIE (whispers to Rick) PMS... RICK (has to think about this) Oh.... Right. Rick pats Ernie on the shoulder reassuringly. He moves over to Elijah's computer terminal. RICK (CONT'D) Well, here it is--the control panel for Elijah's Freaking process. WORM Good work, my boy. Now step aside. This is scientist's work. Worm muscles Rick out of the way and sits at the console. Using a pen held in his mouth, he flicks a series of switches and punches a fast series of computer keys. The light on top of the Tasty Freekz machine starts to revolve, and after a couple of seconds, a stream of GOOEY LIGHT BROWN GLOP oozes out of the spigot. ERNIE Hey! It's working! RICK You did it, Worm! Way to go! JULIE But how? You didn't even use the Noxon. The Worm rushes over to the container of glop below the spigot, and without hesitation, plunges his face into it! Rick, Julie, and Ernie gasp in horror! The WORM lifts his glop-smeared face out of the bowl, and smacks his

central

How many times the word 'central' appears in the text?

{I'M UGLY} Into this breathing world, scarse half made up, {I'M REALLY UGLY} And that so lamely and unfashionable, That dogs bark at me as I halt by them. {I'M F KIN' BUTT-UGLY, ALRIGHT!?} Why I, in this weak piping time of peace, {BLAH, BLAH, BLAH} Have no delight to pass away the time, {I NEVER GET LAID...} Unless to see my shadow in the sun, And descant on mine own deformity! {BECAUSE I'M UGLY} Rick bows. The crowd bursts into applause. They yell "Bravo" and throw bouquets. Rick takes several curtain calls. The freaks cheer for him. Julie is particularly moved--she and Rick exchange a heavy look, laden with romantic potential. NOTE: We will insert an almost subliminal one-frame shot of the Pepsi logo at this triumphant moment. Kevin, the EES executive from the airport scene, walks into the tent. Rick sees him and gasps with joy. He leaps off the stage, runs up to Kevin and hugs him. Kevin is shocked, of course. Overcome by the moment, Rick regresses to his old self. RICK I'm saved! Haha! You sorry mutants are gonna rot in this hole while I'm sipping mint juleps by the pool! {AS FORTUNE SMILES O'ER MY FATE, SO DESTINY SPURNS YOUR ACCURSE'D PATE} The freaks and the audience gasp at Rick's cruelty. Julie is shocked--Juan gives her an "I told you so" look. Rick sees Julie and catches himself. 49. RICK (TO KEVIN) I mean, um, I hope you have room for all my friends, heh-heh. KEVIN Rick, Rick, listen, I really love this new look you've come up with. But just between you and me, I don't think the guys upstairs would really get it. RICK What are you saying!? KEVIN (CHUCKLES SNIDELY) I'm saying you're ugly enough to burn the nosehairs off a dead nun. The crowd bursts into cruel hysterics, pointing mockingly at Rick. Even Alistair Cooke is practically choking with laughter. ALISTAIR COOKE AH-HA-HA-HA! WHAT A PUTZ! Rick looks around, horrified at the sea of evil, jeering faces. He begins to tremble. Then... RICK'S MONSTER EYE springs to life for the first time and glows red with rage. His whole monster side awakens and takes charge of his body with violent intensity. He grabs Kevin's head and screams in a new, monstrous voice. RICK EAT SHIT! POP! He plucks Kevin's head off his neck and holds it aloft. The head stares down at Rick in disbelief. KEVIN'S HEAD Now you're just being childish. Rick serves the head like a volleyball, smashing it to bits. The crowd panics and charges for the exits. CROWD AHHHHHH! HELP! LET US OUT OF HERE! People are trampling over each other in the mayhem. Alistair Cooke is crushed under the stampede. 50. The freaks are horrified. Monster Rick growls triumphantly. Elijah looks on, intrigued. ELIJAH Now that's entertainment. INT. FREAK HOUSE - MORNING Rick awakens with a start and gets up. He approaches JulieErnie, The Bearded Lady, Nosey and Dog Boy, who are idly playing a game of "Wheel of Fortune." The cubicles contain large blank blocks, like the "letters" on the game show. So far, there's a "D", two "S"s, and a "K" revealed. Rosie the Pinhead plays Vanna White's role. NOSEY I'd like to buy a vowel. The Bearded lady yawns. Rick edges towards them. RICK Hey. The Wheel. Mind if I sit in? Juan advances towards Rick, sneering. JUAN So. Now you don't mind mixing with us--how did you say it--sorry mutants? RICK Look! I'm sorry for what happened at the show. Can't you just forget it? He shakes his finger at Juan, and notices there's still a human nose stuck on his monster claw. He wipes it off, embarrassed. There's an awkward pause. Ernie breaks the silence. ERNIE Hey, shouldn't you tell Rick about your big escape plan? Juan gives Ernie a nasty "shut up" look. He growls at him. ERNIE Well, excuse me for living. RICK You have an escape plan? JUAN Listen, Beast Boy, the games are a simple diversion. (MORE) 51. JUAN(CONT'D) Beneath our twisted flesh we freaks cry out for freedom! Aooooooorrraaaagh! Juan howls lustily. He looks to rest of the freaks. They're a pathetic lot, and their half-hearted howl proves it. FREAKS Aoo... Beat. JULIE Juan's plan is really ingenious Rick. See, he figured out that-- JUAN I figured out that our escape does not include the Beast Boy. No one may discuss the plan with him, understand? Juan gives the others a threatening look. They mumble agreement. RICK What's the matter with all of you? You trust your lives to a guy just 'cause he can lick his own privates? The freaks ponder this a second, then nod "yes". ERNIE You gotta admit, Coog, it's a helluva trick. RICK (RESENTFUL) Fine! I'll just come up with an escape plan of my own then. JUAN Haha! I have spent a year studying this hellhole, devising the perfect escape. You think you'll just tango right out the door!? Ha! Just try it, amigo. RICK I will! Rick turns to go. JulieErnie rush over and try to reason with him quietly. 52. JULIE Rick, wait. ERNIE Yeah. Don't go off half-cocked. Believe me, it ain't all it's cracked up to be. JULIE This isn't one of your dumb movies, Coogan. Look, Juan's a good dog, a smart dog. I'll talk to him. Don't be stupid, Rick. You can't do it without us. RICK Forget it! I don't need you, EES, or anybody else! I'll get out of here all by myself, you... you.,. crud sucking pus monkeys! DING DING DING! The letters in the Wheel of Fortune board light up, and ROSIE turns them over to reveal "Crud Sucking Pus Monkeys" as the secret phrase. Everyone claps despite themselves. Juan stares them down. They stop. Rick storms off in a huff. Juan takes Julie's hand and gazes deep into her eyes. He kisses her passionately. Julie is watching Rick leave. Juan nibbles her neck, which gets her attention. She scratches Juan behind his ear. His leg instinctively kicks the air. Ernie looks worried. ERNIE I'm getting a bad feeling here. CUT TO: INT. REAR CORNER OF FREAK HOUSE - DAY Out of sight from the others, Rick approaches the rear door and tries it. It doesn't open from the inside. RICK Damn. He peers out through a crack in the door and sees a MILKMAN getting out of his truck in the driveway. RICK (TO MILKMAN) Psst! Hey, you. Milkman! 53. OUTSIDE The milkman looks over at the outhouse, suspicious. MILKMAN Yeah... ? RICK (V.0.) Just the man I'm lookinq for. Be a pal, and give me a hand will ya? MILKMAN Oooh no! I know you freaks. You'll try anything just to get someone to open that door. Well not me! Ha! He's about to walk away. RICK Okay. Guess I'll just have to milk the world's biggest breasted woman all by myself. Sorry to bother you. The milkman stops in his tracks. He tiptoes over to the back door of the outhouse, listening intently as Rick goes into his "act." RICK (in a lusty womanish VOICE) Ooohh... Milk me! Milk me now! Milk me hard! (Normal Rick voice) I've only got two hands, all right? Geez. I don't care if Elijah did give you skim milk on the right side, chocolate on the left, and eggnog in the middle. The milkman is salivating at the door. MILKMAN (TO HIMSELF) Gee, I love eggnog! The milkman opens the door eagerly and steps inside. Beat. MILKMAN Hey, what the-- BONK. We hear the sound of bottled buttermilk beaning his soft noggin. Rick walks out wearing the milkman outfit complete with the little six-milk-bottle-carrier thing. 54. He looks around and heads for the milk truck, whistling casually. He notices something. It's ... THE GIANT ELIJAH HEAD Its big eyes are staring at Rick (note: there's a skywriter plane in the distance behind the head, which finishes writing "YOU GOT THE RIGHT ONE BABY: PEPSI") Rick gets to the truck and tries the door. It's locked. RICK Shit. He looks over at the giant head. The eyes are still staring at him--they seem to have shifted. Rick shrugs it off and looks around. He walks over to Elijah's car. It's locked too. He checks the big eyes. They've moved again. Rick's getting a bit desperate. He sees something else and runs towards it. It's a dry-docked motorboat. It's locked too. The eyes have followed Rick again. He sees something else and runs over to it. It's a bag of golf clubs leaning against Elijah's porch. They're locked too. RICK Damn! This guy doesn't trust anybody! He looks at the giant head- the eyes are gone, leaving only empty eyesockets! Rick hears A BURST OF MACHINEGUN FIRE behind him, spins around and faces ... TWO THREE FOOT HIGH EYEBALLS with little arms and legs, wearing Jamaican Rasta hats and aiming smoking Uzi 9mms in the air. They aim their Uzis at Rick. One holds a walkie-talkie, the other holds a big spliff. RICK AHHHH! A T.V. MONITOR in Elijah's hands, shows Rick staring at us, the Eye's POV. ELIJAH seen in extreme close-up, watches the surveillance monitor. He speaks into a microphone. We don't see what the room looks like. ELIJAH Good work, Eye and Eye. 55. THE EYES bob in response to Elijah. They have no mouths, but their pupils open and close when they speak. EYE AND EYE (JAMAICAN ACCENTS) Rastafari. ELIJAH (V.0.) (over the walkie-talkie) Now bring the Beast Boy to my, uh, den. Ha-ha-ha-ha! Rick looks worried as they lead him towards the scary looking house. INT. ELIJAH'S DEN It's a lovely, suburban den with a coffee table full of magazines like "Better Homes and Gardens," "National Review" and "Freaks Illustrated". Elijah sits in a big Barcalounger, smoking a pipe. Rick sits on the sofa. Toad walks up with a tray of soft drinks. ELIJAH (TO RICK) Diet soda? RICK No thanks. Elijah points to a bowl of Fiddle Faddle. Toad sits beside Rick. ELIJAH Fiddle Faddle? (Rick shakes his head) You sure? RICK Well, okay. (he scoops some into his MOUTH) Well, are you gonna torture me or kill me or something? ELIJAH Torture my greatest creation ever!? Kill the final piece of the puzzle that I've been putting together for years!? Sure, it'd be fun, but I've got a bigger plan, my boy. (MORE) 56. ELIJAH(CONT'D) And when you ripped off that guy's head, I knew it was working like gangbusters! RICK But I thought I scared everyone away. ELIJAH Uh-huh. And then they told two friends, and they told two friends, and so on, and so on. Look at this. Elijah grabs a big mail bag and spills some letters out on the table. Elijah opens one and reads it. ELIJAH (READING) Dear Mister Skuggs, I was shocked and disgusted when my grandson told me about the head-popping beast at your show. Please send me six tickets. (he reads another) Dear Beast Boy, I used to like New Kids on The Block, but you're way cuter. My favorite ice cream is chocolate. Is it fun ripping people's heads off? I love you. (ANOTHER LETTER) The Beast Boy is on a blood-letting spree, and Oscar is along for the ride! (he looks up at Rick) That one's from Pat Collins! RICK Yeah, but she loves everything. Rick reaches for the Fiddle Faddle but the bowl is empty. Toad BURPS. ELIJAH Toad! That Fiddle Faddle is for guests only! You've had enough! Toad is blankfaced. Elijah walks over and refills the bowl. Rick scoops some into his mouth. Elijah walks to the fireplace and pushes the embers around with a poker. RICK Look Skuggs--Elijah--I've been in show business all my life. The public does not want to see disgusting, depraved violent filth. 57. ELIJAH Oh, and I suppose Jake and the Fatman is just a fluke? The phone rings. Elijah looks at it, and back to Rick. ELIJAH (CONT'D) I'll get it. He goes over to the phone and lifts the receiver. ELIJAH `Yello? On the other end of the line, we hear LAUGHING MAN's insane chuckle. Elijah's smooth smile fades. He turns his back to- Rick, who strains to identify the familiar laughing voice. Elijah scribbles notes on a pad by the phone. ELIJAH Yes... Right... Tomorrow... Mmhmm... Mnunhmm... Wow. Okay. You got it... Hasta la vista to you too. Hahaahahaahaha-- Laughing Man hangs up on Elijah. He looks a little pissed- off as he turns to face Rick again. Grumbling, he takes the poker in hand, and pokes at the coals angrily. ELIJAH Okay, Coogan. I'm finished with you for now. Ricky rises and snatches the notepad just before Elijah spins to face him. ELIJAH (CONT'D) But listen. I may not be "Mr. Tinseltown", but I damn well know what I like. You're gonna be a hideous killing machine, and that's final! Tomorrow night I'll finish the job onstage! And then, to demonstrate your horrible power, you'll slaughter all the old obsolete freaks in cold bl--HEY! Elijah thrusts the red hot fire poker out and ZAP! He catches Toad's ten foot tongue--curled around the searing poker inches from the Fiddle Faddle. TOAD AAAGGGGHH! 58. ELIJAH I told you enough! CUT TO: EXT. ELIJAH'S HOUSE DAY Elijah shows Rick out the door. The Eyes scurry out and leap back into the sockets in the giant head. ELIJAH Bye-bye. And remember, try another escape, and I'll feed your balls to Toad. As he walks towards the Freak House, Rick pulls out the note he pocketed. A gust of wind blows it away from him. He chases it behind the carnival tent where... KKCCLIINNK! He runs into ELEVEN PHONY MILKMEN, backing their way around the corner, each carrying their own six-pack of milkbottles. Startled, they turn around. Why, it's the freaks! And they're all dressed as milkmen! Cowboy carries the hammer, who's dressed in a little milkman suit as well. BEARDED LADY Hey Rick, I thought you were gonna come up with your own escape plan? RICK (TO JUAN) This is your big plan? A dozen milkmen? Isn't that a little unusual? Juan hadn't thought of this. He pushes himself forward and confronts Rick viciously. JUAN Twelve milkmen is theoretically possible. Thirteen is silly. Looks like one milkman too many, Coogan. He pushes Rick aside. The freaks continue past him. RICK Fine then. Go ahead. Hope you like reggae, ya flea bitten bastard. Rick watches as the Freaks approach the open courtyard, where he knows the Eyeballs will spot them. 59. Julie glances at him a second, then looks away. His mind made up, Rick takes a deep breath. RICK Ah, shit. He runs over to the Freaks. He stands in Juan's way. RICK Look, you'll all be killed. You don't know about Elijah's giant Rasta eyeballs with machine guns... (they think he's nuts) It's suicide! I can't let you do it. JUAN And I can't let you stop us. This is it. Rick and Juan square off. Juan growls and bares his teeth. Rick's MONSTER EYE starts to glow and pulse dimly. They circle each other. The others are transfixed. ELIJAH'S POV He peers through a side window, and sees the pack of milkmen cheering two of their coworkers, locked in mortal combat. ELIJAH That's a lot of milkmen on the same route. No wonder they fight. Juan rears back, about to lunge, when suddenly he freezes and looks off into the distance. A SQUIRREL is sitting innocently a few yards off. JUAN Squirrel! He zooms off after the squirrel. The Eyes pop out of the giant head and follow after him, Uzis FIRING. Juan dodges their bullets and disappears after his prey. The freaks watch their best chance of freedom run off after a pesky rodent. They turn to Rick. NOSEY Wow, giant Rasta eyeballs, just like Rick said. SOCKHEAD Gosh, if it wasn't for Rick, we'd all be dead! 60. OTHER FREAKS Yeah! Way to go Rick! Alright! ERNIE (TO JULIE) God, I can't believe he left you for a squirrel. What a dick. Julie's hurt. She doesn't even smack Ernie. RICK You know how men are. Besides, it was a pretty good looking squirrel. Julie looks at Rick. She sees he's trying to be helpful, not sarcastic. JULIE (to the others) Come on. You heard the Beast Boy. Back to the Freak House, now. Her eyes meet Rick's. She manages a smile, and Rick smiles back. Ernie sizes up the situation and groans as they all head back to the Freak House. ERNIE Not again. (TO RICK) Oh well, at least we'll get to try a new position. CUT TO: INT. STARK INTERROGATION ROOM We're moving in towards a door in this desolate, vaguely corporate looking hallway. INSIDE THE ROOM We're looking at the back of Laughing Man's leather chair. We hear his CACKLE, as well as STUEY GLUCK'S TORTURED SCREAMS and a horrible POWER TOOL NOISE. We can see the usual bright interrogation spotlight, and a couple of extra GOONS watching the goings on, but Stuey and his actual torturer are hidden by Laughing Man's chair. STUEY (O.S.) AHHHHH! STOP IT! OOOWWWWW! We move past Mr. Big's chair to reveal Stuey lying face down on a table, while Bob Vila is using a power sander on his butt. Bob is happily giving pointers to the two goons. 61. BOB Notice the way I use an elliptical motion to chafe Stuey's buttocks. (the Goons nod ATTENTIVELY) It's all here in my new book: Pipes, Fixtures, and Torturing TROLLS-- LAUGHING MAN(O.S.) (Loud, sharp laugh) A-HA-HA-HAHA-HA-HA-HA! Bob obediently shuts up. Laughing Man directs a sinister low chuckle to Stuey. STUEY No way. I'll never talk! I'm made of stone! Bob considers this a second, then starts up a jackhammer. STUEY HELP! RICK! RIIIIIIIIIICCKKK! CUT TO: INT. FREAK HOUSE - DAY We hear LONESOME HARMONICA MUSIC as we pan past the cubicles. Cowboy is playing the harmonica... The Bearded Lady unties the pretty pink ribbon in his hair and sets it aside... Suddenly, we switch to HORRIFIC PSYCHO STINGS as the camera picks up PAUL LYNDE'S CORPSE with flashing red lights. His eyeball drips out of the socket again... Then it's back to the SAD HARMONICA MUSIC. In the next cubicle, Ernie is sleeping, Julie is awake, dreamily fondling a large eclair. She looks longingly up towards Rick's cubicle as we... DREAM DISSOLVE TO: DREAMLAND Rick (his face is normal) and Julie kiss passionately in a billowy white bed amidst puffy clouds. 62. RICK (SINCERE) Julie, compared to this, sex with Julia Roberts was a thankless chore. QUICK DISSOLVE BACK TO: JULIE' We follow her gaze, panning up to Rick. He's lying on his bed, dreamily fondling a donut. He looks down towards Julie's cabin... DREAM DISSOLVE TO: DREAMLAND Rick and Julie kiss passionately. We're tight on them. JULIE Oh Rick, you've touched a place in me no one has ever touched before. ERNIE(O.S.) I'll say! Almost punctured a kidney! WIDEN to show Ernie, still attached to Julie, leering at Rick. Rick is mortified. QUICK DREAM DISSOLVE TO: INT. FREAK HOUSE - DAY Rick sits in his cubicle, visibly sickened by his daydream. Stuey's echoey voice drifts in. STUEY(V.0.) Rick! Riiiicccck! A holographic image of Stuey lying on the torture table appears over Rick. We can see the jackhammer looming over Stuey's face. Rick looks alarmed. STUEY HOLOGRAM Rick! Do something! It's up to you, Rick! Pleeeeeeease! LAUGHING MAN (O.S) Aha-hee-hee-ho-ho-har-har-har! 63. RICK The Laughing Man! Rick watches the hologram break up and disappear. Wheels spinning in his head, he takes the crumpled piece of paper out of his pocket and reads it. RICK (under his breath) Holy shit! JULIE/ERNIE'S CUBICLE Julie and Ernie are struggling over a bottle of deodorant. ERNIE It says it's strong enough for a man! JULIE But it's made for a woman! She grabs it away and shoves it in Ernie's mouth. Rick walks in. JULIE Hey Rick. What's up? RICK Read this. I grabbed it from Skuggs' office. He hands her the notepaper. She reads it, with some difficulty. Ernie is still gagging on deodorant. JULIE "Tape Donahue... Renew Subscription to Beaver World..." Eeuw! She gives Rick a disgusted look. Ernie mumbles with the deodorant in his mouth. ERNIE (interested, muffled) Beaver World!? Julie smacks him--he swallows the deodorant. RICK (TO JULIE) After that. 64. JULIE "Prepare demonstration for Laughing Man, receive five thousand barrels of Noxon." Five thousand barrels!? RICK Elijah's up to something big, and we have to stop him. Ernie BELCHES. Rick sniffs the air. RICK Mmmm. Jasmine. SWISH PAN TO: INT. FREAK HOUSE - DAY Rick takes a deep breath, and begins his presentation to the freaks assembled before him. RICK Alright guys, listen up-- Sockhead suddenly freaks out. SOCKHEAD We're done for! We're done for! I don't want to die! It's the end of the world! The apocalypse! Aahh! He stops. Everyone is staring at him. RICK I haven't said anything yet. SOCKHEAD Sorry. I'm not much for timing. He takes his seat again. RICK (TO EVERYONE) Tomorrow night, at the show, I'll be turned into a homicidal monster and forced to kill you all. But we might have a chance if we act fast. And I'm prepared to be your new leader. A THRILLING CHORD. 65. NOSEY (TO SOCKHEAD) I say we kill him. Sockhead nods. RICK And I've got a plan. ANOTHER THRILLING CHORD. NOSEY I still say we kill him. Sockhead nods again. RICK If we can get into Elijah's lab, maybe we can-- WORM Of course! Design a super freak of our own and manipulate the genetic code to make him destroy Elijah instead of us! Brilliant! RICK Oh. Well-- BEARDED LADY But how do we get to the lab? RICK Um, maybe-- COWBOY Right! The worm could dig a tunnel! WORM By God, it's so crazy it might just work! ERNIE But you need Noxon 24 to make the freaking sludge, and Elijah told us himself he's run out of it. RICK Oh. Oh yeah. Well, see, what I was going to say was-- 66. JULIE Yes! Exactly! If they've been using Noxon 24 as a fertilizer here, the entire ecosystem must be soaked with it! All we need is a way to extract it from the vegetation, ideally into a liquid form. RICK Right. Well, what about-- COWBOY Golly! So that's why my milk comes out that funny green color! I thought the grass tasted funny! Wow, Rick, you're a genius! JULIE (SMILES WARMLY) Good thinking, Rick. The freaks all nod in agreement. NOSEY Way to go, Rick! How did you ever think of such a plan? Rick pulls out an old comic book and points to an ad for Sea Monkeys. RICK Well, actually, I was going to suggest we send away for sea monkeys, train them to fire guns, and make a break for it. But if you want to go with this other thing, I guess that's okay. The freaks stare at him, not sure if he's kidding or not. CUT TO: INT. FREAK HOUSE - NIGHT FREAKS ON A MISSION MONTAGE, SET TO A POUNDING "EYE OF THE TIGER"-TYPE SONG -Nosey milks Cowboy, squirting the glowing milk into a funnel which feeds into a crude still. The Torch heats the boiler. -The Worm digs the tunnel. JulieErnie hand Rick pieces of wood which he puts into place as tunnel supports. They hand him Paul Lynde's corpse and he wedges it in as well. 67. -Everyone's getting into it and working up a sweat. Nosey wipes his brow, opens a bottle of Pepsi and chugs it down in a beautifully lit slo-mo product shot... The other freaks follow suit, including the Worm, down in the tunnel, who struggles to hold the bottle in his tiny feeler. Everything's going great and the song is really pumping when... ELIJAH runs out on his front porch in his nightclothes and screams down at the outhouse. ELIJAH WOULD YOU TURN DOWN THAT GODDAMN RACKET!? IN THE FREAK HOUSE Nosey turns off a boom box and the music cuts short. The freaks exchange tense looks. Nosey calls out apologetically to Elijah. NOSEY SOR-RY. (to the freaks) What a jerk! INT. UNDERGROUND TUNNEL The Worm burrows along, leaving a tunnel wide enough for Rick and JulieErnie to crawl after him. Rick notices a ray of light coming through a rock formation. RICK Hey, look at this! They all stop and look. Rick fingers the hole, and the rocks cave in, revealing A VAST UNDERGROUND CITY It's obviously a matte painting. WORM Good Lord! It's the Lost City of Nodd! JULIE Wow! 68. KER-CHUNK! We hear the sound of a slide projector switching slides and the underground city is replaced by a still image of some tourists standing around a geyser. [foriegn version: the Blarney Stone]. RICK It's Old Faithful! (foriegn take: "It's the Blarney Stone!"] They "Ooh" and "Ahh". The image switches to a snapshot of a FAT MIDDLE-AGED WOMAN. ERNIE It's my Aunt Gladys! The other freaks nod politely. The image switches to a BAR MITZVAH PHOTO. ERNIE And that's me at my bar mitzvah! RICK C'mon Ernie, let's go. ERNIE Wait, you gotta see the ones from sleep-away camp! They're hilarious! Julie smacks him. JULIE Stooge! EXT. FREAK COMPOUND - NIGHT It's an "Antfarm View" of the yard, where the freaks are visible tunneling underground, and Toad is visible on the yard above them. We see a bat fly overhead... ZAP! Toad shoots out his tongue, snags it out of mid air, and chews it happily, oblivious to the freaks burrowing right underneath him. INT. FREAK HOUSE Nosey looks at the nearly full container of distilled Noxon. NOSEY Almost there. (he sniffs the air) But wait, I'm getting a whiff of things to come! 69. BEARDED LADY What do you smell? NOSEY (GRIM) Blood. Bearded Lady looks grave..Nosey sniffs again. NOSEY (CHEERFUL) And hot buttered popcorn! BEARDED LADY Awwright! INT. TUNNEL They're burrowing along. Ernie loudly clears his throat. Julie spits out a loogie. She grimaces. JULIE I hate when you do that. We hear muffled BARKING. ERNIE Hey! Do you hear that? JULIE It's a dog! RICK (TO WORM) Hurry! The Worm breaks through into a small cavern with several exposed sewer pipes. A lovable mutt leaps out of a pipe and drops an old tennis ball in front of Rick. He starts licking Rick's face. RICK Scrappy! SAPPY MUSIC wells up. RICK It's been ten years since you chased this ball into the sewer! I thought you were gone for good! SCRAPPY Yap! 70. RICK Listen Scrap. Go home. Get help. Understand? SCRAPPY Yap! RICK Good boy! Now go! Scrappy runs away into the sewer pipe. Rick shrugs. RICK You never know. Julie taps on some exposed wood on the cavern ceiling. JULIE Look, a wood floor. WORM It must be the lab! we've done it! They all look at each other excitedly. Suddenly Elijah's voice rings out behind them. ELIJAH'S VOICE Not so fast, you scabrous freaks! They spin around and see Nosey holding the bottle of Noxon 24. He grins. NOSEY Didn't know I did impressions, did ya? INT. FREAK HOUSE The freaks are waiting around the hole. Nosey pops out. NOSEY Mission accomplished. They've got the Noxon, and they'll be in the lab within minutes. FROGMAN Boy, this is going like clockwork! Everyone smiles, pats each other on the back, etc. Except Sockhead, who finally snaps. SOCKHEAD No! Can't you see we're digging our own graves!? (MORE) 71. It's nuts, SOCKHEAD(cont'd) that's what it is! Nuts! Well, maybe you've all got a deathwish, but you can count me out! I'M GETTING THE HELL OUT OF HERE! He runs amok, pushes various freaks to the ground, and runs around screaming. The freak house door opens--Eye and Eye step in to check out the noise. One of them has a spliff sticking out of its pupil. Sockhead charges at them like a mad dog. They aim their Uzis. SOCKHEAD (at the Eyes) OUT OF MY WAY! RATTA-RATTA-RATTA! They spray an ungodly amount of bullets into Sockhead. He falls to the ground. The Eyes leave. The freaks gather around Sockhead. Nosey pulls the sock off his hand head, which is making a little "Senor Pepe" face with its fist. It spits up a trickle of blood and tries to speak. SOCKHEAD (WEAK) I... I... just... wanna...say... NOSEY What is it, kid? SOCKHEAD Ah, forget it. I'm not much for dying. He goes limp. CUT TO: INT. ELIJAH'S LAB JulieErnie, the Worm, and Rick are just emerging from the hole. It's really dark in the lab. ERNIE Shit. I can't see a damn thing. RICK Keep your voice down, Ernie. ERNIE Don't push me, Coog. I got a real short fuse today. I'm cranky, bloated, got a wicked case of cramps. Don't ask why. 72. JULIE (whispers to Rick) PMS... RICK (has to think about this) Oh.... Right. Rick pats Ernie on the shoulder reassuringly. He moves over to Elijah's computer terminal. RICK (CONT'D) Well, here it is--the control panel for Elijah's Freaking process. WORM Good work, my boy. Now step aside. This is scientist's work. Worm muscles Rick out of the way and sits at the console. Using a pen held in his mouth, he flicks a series of switches and punches a fast series of computer keys. The light on top of the Tasty Freekz machine starts to revolve, and after a couple of seconds, a stream of GOOEY LIGHT BROWN GLOP oozes out of the spigot. ERNIE Hey! It's working! RICK You did it, Worm! Way to go! JULIE But how? You didn't even use the Noxon. The Worm rushes over to the container of glop below the spigot, and without hesitation, plunges his face into it! Rick, Julie, and Ernie gasp in horror! The WORM lifts his glop-smeared face out of the bowl, and smacks his

myself

How many times the word 'myself' appears in the text?

{I'M UGLY} Into this breathing world, scarse half made up, {I'M REALLY UGLY} And that so lamely and unfashionable, That dogs bark at me as I halt by them. {I'M F KIN' BUTT-UGLY, ALRIGHT!?} Why I, in this weak piping time of peace, {BLAH, BLAH, BLAH} Have no delight to pass away the time, {I NEVER GET LAID...} Unless to see my shadow in the sun, And descant on mine own deformity! {BECAUSE I'M UGLY} Rick bows. The crowd bursts into applause. They yell "Bravo" and throw bouquets. Rick takes several curtain calls. The freaks cheer for him. Julie is particularly moved--she and Rick exchange a heavy look, laden with romantic potential. NOTE: We will insert an almost subliminal one-frame shot of the Pepsi logo at this triumphant moment. Kevin, the EES executive from the airport scene, walks into the tent. Rick sees him and gasps with joy. He leaps off the stage, runs up to Kevin and hugs him. Kevin is shocked, of course. Overcome by the moment, Rick regresses to his old self. RICK I'm saved! Haha! You sorry mutants are gonna rot in this hole while I'm sipping mint juleps by the pool! {AS FORTUNE SMILES O'ER MY FATE, SO DESTINY SPURNS YOUR ACCURSE'D PATE} The freaks and the audience gasp at Rick's cruelty. Julie is shocked--Juan gives her an "I told you so" look. Rick sees Julie and catches himself. 49. RICK (TO KEVIN) I mean, um, I hope you have room for all my friends, heh-heh. KEVIN Rick, Rick, listen, I really love this new look you've come up with. But just between you and me, I don't think the guys upstairs would really get it. RICK What are you saying!? KEVIN (CHUCKLES SNIDELY) I'm saying you're ugly enough to burn the nosehairs off a dead nun. The crowd bursts into cruel hysterics, pointing mockingly at Rick. Even Alistair Cooke is practically choking with laughter. ALISTAIR COOKE AH-HA-HA-HA! WHAT A PUTZ! Rick looks around, horrified at the sea of evil, jeering faces. He begins to tremble. Then... RICK'S MONSTER EYE springs to life for the first time and glows red with rage. His whole monster side awakens and takes charge of his body with violent intensity. He grabs Kevin's head and screams in a new, monstrous voice. RICK EAT SHIT! POP! He plucks Kevin's head off his neck and holds it aloft. The head stares down at Rick in disbelief. KEVIN'S HEAD Now you're just being childish. Rick serves the head like a volleyball, smashing it to bits. The crowd panics and charges for the exits. CROWD AHHHHHH! HELP! LET US OUT OF HERE! People are trampling over each other in the mayhem. Alistair Cooke is crushed under the stampede. 50. The freaks are horrified. Monster Rick growls triumphantly. Elijah looks on, intrigued. ELIJAH Now that's entertainment. INT. FREAK HOUSE - MORNING Rick awakens with a start and gets up. He approaches JulieErnie, The Bearded Lady, Nosey and Dog Boy, who are idly playing a game of "Wheel of Fortune." The cubicles contain large blank blocks, like the "letters" on the game show. So far, there's a "D", two "S"s, and a "K" revealed. Rosie the Pinhead plays Vanna White's role. NOSEY I'd like to buy a vowel. The Bearded lady yawns. Rick edges towards them. RICK Hey. The Wheel. Mind if I sit in? Juan advances towards Rick, sneering. JUAN So. Now you don't mind mixing with us--how did you say it--sorry mutants? RICK Look! I'm sorry for what happened at the show. Can't you just forget it? He shakes his finger at Juan, and notices there's still a human nose stuck on his monster claw. He wipes it off, embarrassed. There's an awkward pause. Ernie breaks the silence. ERNIE Hey, shouldn't you tell Rick about your big escape plan? Juan gives Ernie a nasty "shut up" look. He growls at him. ERNIE Well, excuse me for living. RICK You have an escape plan? JUAN Listen, Beast Boy, the games are a simple diversion. (MORE) 51. JUAN(CONT'D) Beneath our twisted flesh we freaks cry out for freedom! Aooooooorrraaaagh! Juan howls lustily. He looks to rest of the freaks. They're a pathetic lot, and their half-hearted howl proves it. FREAKS Aoo... Beat. JULIE Juan's plan is really ingenious Rick. See, he figured out that-- JUAN I figured out that our escape does not include the Beast Boy. No one may discuss the plan with him, understand? Juan gives the others a threatening look. They mumble agreement. RICK What's the matter with all of you? You trust your lives to a guy just 'cause he can lick his own privates? The freaks ponder this a second, then nod "yes". ERNIE You gotta admit, Coog, it's a helluva trick. RICK (RESENTFUL) Fine! I'll just come up with an escape plan of my own then. JUAN Haha! I have spent a year studying this hellhole, devising the perfect escape. You think you'll just tango right out the door!? Ha! Just try it, amigo. RICK I will! Rick turns to go. JulieErnie rush over and try to reason with him quietly. 52. JULIE Rick, wait. ERNIE Yeah. Don't go off half-cocked. Believe me, it ain't all it's cracked up to be. JULIE This isn't one of your dumb movies, Coogan. Look, Juan's a good dog, a smart dog. I'll talk to him. Don't be stupid, Rick. You can't do it without us. RICK Forget it! I don't need you, EES, or anybody else! I'll get out of here all by myself, you... you.,. crud sucking pus monkeys! DING DING DING! The letters in the Wheel of Fortune board light up, and ROSIE turns them over to reveal "Crud Sucking Pus Monkeys" as the secret phrase. Everyone claps despite themselves. Juan stares them down. They stop. Rick storms off in a huff. Juan takes Julie's hand and gazes deep into her eyes. He kisses her passionately. Julie is watching Rick leave. Juan nibbles her neck, which gets her attention. She scratches Juan behind his ear. His leg instinctively kicks the air. Ernie looks worried. ERNIE I'm getting a bad feeling here. CUT TO: INT. REAR CORNER OF FREAK HOUSE - DAY Out of sight from the others, Rick approaches the rear door and tries it. It doesn't open from the inside. RICK Damn. He peers out through a crack in the door and sees a MILKMAN getting out of his truck in the driveway. RICK (TO MILKMAN) Psst! Hey, you. Milkman! 53. OUTSIDE The milkman looks over at the outhouse, suspicious. MILKMAN Yeah... ? RICK (V.0.) Just the man I'm lookinq for. Be a pal, and give me a hand will ya? MILKMAN Oooh no! I know you freaks. You'll try anything just to get someone to open that door. Well not me! Ha! He's about to walk away. RICK Okay. Guess I'll just have to milk the world's biggest breasted woman all by myself. Sorry to bother you. The milkman stops in his tracks. He tiptoes over to the back door of the outhouse, listening intently as Rick goes into his "act." RICK (in a lusty womanish VOICE) Ooohh... Milk me! Milk me now! Milk me hard! (Normal Rick voice) I've only got two hands, all right? Geez. I don't care if Elijah did give you skim milk on the right side, chocolate on the left, and eggnog in the middle. The milkman is salivating at the door. MILKMAN (TO HIMSELF) Gee, I love eggnog! The milkman opens the door eagerly and steps inside. Beat. MILKMAN Hey, what the-- BONK. We hear the sound of bottled buttermilk beaning his soft noggin. Rick walks out wearing the milkman outfit complete with the little six-milk-bottle-carrier thing. 54. He looks around and heads for the milk truck, whistling casually. He notices something. It's ... THE GIANT ELIJAH HEAD Its big eyes are staring at Rick (note: there's a skywriter plane in the distance behind the head, which finishes writing "YOU GOT THE RIGHT ONE BABY: PEPSI") Rick gets to the truck and tries the door. It's locked. RICK Shit. He looks over at the giant head. The eyes are still staring at him--they seem to have shifted. Rick shrugs it off and looks around. He walks over to Elijah's car. It's locked too. He checks the big eyes. They've moved again. Rick's getting a bit desperate. He sees something else and runs towards it. It's a dry-docked motorboat. It's locked too. The eyes have followed Rick again. He sees something else and runs over to it. It's a bag of golf clubs leaning against Elijah's porch. They're locked too. RICK Damn! This guy doesn't trust anybody! He looks at the giant head- the eyes are gone, leaving only empty eyesockets! Rick hears A BURST OF MACHINEGUN FIRE behind him, spins around and faces ... TWO THREE FOOT HIGH EYEBALLS with little arms and legs, wearing Jamaican Rasta hats and aiming smoking Uzi 9mms in the air. They aim their Uzis at Rick. One holds a walkie-talkie, the other holds a big spliff. RICK AHHHH! A T.V. MONITOR in Elijah's hands, shows Rick staring at us, the Eye's POV. ELIJAH seen in extreme close-up, watches the surveillance monitor. He speaks into a microphone. We don't see what the room looks like. ELIJAH Good work, Eye and Eye. 55. THE EYES bob in response to Elijah. They have no mouths, but their pupils open and close when they speak. EYE AND EYE (JAMAICAN ACCENTS) Rastafari. ELIJAH (V.0.) (over the walkie-talkie) Now bring the Beast Boy to my, uh, den. Ha-ha-ha-ha! Rick looks worried as they lead him towards the scary looking house. INT. ELIJAH'S DEN It's a lovely, suburban den with a coffee table full of magazines like "Better Homes and Gardens," "National Review" and "Freaks Illustrated". Elijah sits in a big Barcalounger, smoking a pipe. Rick sits on the sofa. Toad walks up with a tray of soft drinks. ELIJAH (TO RICK) Diet soda? RICK No thanks. Elijah points to a bowl of Fiddle Faddle. Toad sits beside Rick. ELIJAH Fiddle Faddle? (Rick shakes his head) You sure? RICK Well, okay. (he scoops some into his MOUTH) Well, are you gonna torture me or kill me or something? ELIJAH Torture my greatest creation ever!? Kill the final piece of the puzzle that I've been putting together for years!? Sure, it'd be fun, but I've got a bigger plan, my boy. (MORE) 56. ELIJAH(CONT'D) And when you ripped off that guy's head, I knew it was working like gangbusters! RICK But I thought I scared everyone away. ELIJAH Uh-huh. And then they told two friends, and they told two friends, and so on, and so on. Look at this. Elijah grabs a big mail bag and spills some letters out on the table. Elijah opens one and reads it. ELIJAH (READING) Dear Mister Skuggs, I was shocked and disgusted when my grandson told me about the head-popping beast at your show. Please send me six tickets. (he reads another) Dear Beast Boy, I used to like New Kids on The Block, but you're way cuter. My favorite ice cream is chocolate. Is it fun ripping people's heads off? I love you. (ANOTHER LETTER) The Beast Boy is on a blood-letting spree, and Oscar is along for the ride! (he looks up at Rick) That one's from Pat Collins! RICK Yeah, but she loves everything. Rick reaches for the Fiddle Faddle but the bowl is empty. Toad BURPS. ELIJAH Toad! That Fiddle Faddle is for guests only! You've had enough! Toad is blankfaced. Elijah walks over and refills the bowl. Rick scoops some into his mouth. Elijah walks to the fireplace and pushes the embers around with a poker. RICK Look Skuggs--Elijah--I've been in show business all my life. The public does not want to see disgusting, depraved violent filth. 57. ELIJAH Oh, and I suppose Jake and the Fatman is just a fluke? The phone rings. Elijah looks at it, and back to Rick. ELIJAH (CONT'D) I'll get it. He goes over to the phone and lifts the receiver. ELIJAH `Yello? On the other end of the line, we hear LAUGHING MAN's insane chuckle. Elijah's smooth smile fades. He turns his back to- Rick, who strains to identify the familiar laughing voice. Elijah scribbles notes on a pad by the phone. ELIJAH Yes... Right... Tomorrow... Mmhmm... Mnunhmm... Wow. Okay. You got it... Hasta la vista to you too. Hahaahahaahaha-- Laughing Man hangs up on Elijah. He looks a little pissed- off as he turns to face Rick again. Grumbling, he takes the poker in hand, and pokes at the coals angrily. ELIJAH Okay, Coogan. I'm finished with you for now. Ricky rises and snatches the notepad just before Elijah spins to face him. ELIJAH (CONT'D) But listen. I may not be "Mr. Tinseltown", but I damn well know what I like. You're gonna be a hideous killing machine, and that's final! Tomorrow night I'll finish the job onstage! And then, to demonstrate your horrible power, you'll slaughter all the old obsolete freaks in cold bl--HEY! Elijah thrusts the red hot fire poker out and ZAP! He catches Toad's ten foot tongue--curled around the searing poker inches from the Fiddle Faddle. TOAD AAAGGGGHH! 58. ELIJAH I told you enough! CUT TO: EXT. ELIJAH'S HOUSE DAY Elijah shows Rick out the door. The Eyes scurry out and leap back into the sockets in the giant head. ELIJAH Bye-bye. And remember, try another escape, and I'll feed your balls to Toad. As he walks towards the Freak House, Rick pulls out the note he pocketed. A gust of wind blows it away from him. He chases it behind the carnival tent where... KKCCLIINNK! He runs into ELEVEN PHONY MILKMEN, backing their way around the corner, each carrying their own six-pack of milkbottles. Startled, they turn around. Why, it's the freaks! And they're all dressed as milkmen! Cowboy carries the hammer, who's dressed in a little milkman suit as well. BEARDED LADY Hey Rick, I thought you were gonna come up with your own escape plan? RICK (TO JUAN) This is your big plan? A dozen milkmen? Isn't that a little unusual? Juan hadn't thought of this. He pushes himself forward and confronts Rick viciously. JUAN Twelve milkmen is theoretically possible. Thirteen is silly. Looks like one milkman too many, Coogan. He pushes Rick aside. The freaks continue past him. RICK Fine then. Go ahead. Hope you like reggae, ya flea bitten bastard. Rick watches as the Freaks approach the open courtyard, where he knows the Eyeballs will spot them. 59. Julie glances at him a second, then looks away. His mind made up, Rick takes a deep breath. RICK Ah, shit. He runs over to the Freaks. He stands in Juan's way. RICK Look, you'll all be killed. You don't know about Elijah's giant Rasta eyeballs with machine guns... (they think he's nuts) It's suicide! I can't let you do it. JUAN And I can't let you stop us. This is it. Rick and Juan square off. Juan growls and bares his teeth. Rick's MONSTER EYE starts to glow and pulse dimly. They circle each other. The others are transfixed. ELIJAH'S POV He peers through a side window, and sees the pack of milkmen cheering two of their coworkers, locked in mortal combat. ELIJAH That's a lot of milkmen on the same route. No wonder they fight. Juan rears back, about to lunge, when suddenly he freezes and looks off into the distance. A SQUIRREL is sitting innocently a few yards off. JUAN Squirrel! He zooms off after the squirrel. The Eyes pop out of the giant head and follow after him, Uzis FIRING. Juan dodges their bullets and disappears after his prey. The freaks watch their best chance of freedom run off after a pesky rodent. They turn to Rick. NOSEY Wow, giant Rasta eyeballs, just like Rick said. SOCKHEAD Gosh, if it wasn't for Rick, we'd all be dead! 60. OTHER FREAKS Yeah! Way to go Rick! Alright! ERNIE (TO JULIE) God, I can't believe he left you for a squirrel. What a dick. Julie's hurt. She doesn't even smack Ernie. RICK You know how men are. Besides, it was a pretty good looking squirrel. Julie looks at Rick. She sees he's trying to be helpful, not sarcastic. JULIE (to the others) Come on. You heard the Beast Boy. Back to the Freak House, now. Her eyes meet Rick's. She manages a smile, and Rick smiles back. Ernie sizes up the situation and groans as they all head back to the Freak House. ERNIE Not again. (TO RICK) Oh well, at least we'll get to try a new position. CUT TO: INT. STARK INTERROGATION ROOM We're moving in towards a door in this desolate, vaguely corporate looking hallway. INSIDE THE ROOM We're looking at the back of Laughing Man's leather chair. We hear his CACKLE, as well as STUEY GLUCK'S TORTURED SCREAMS and a horrible POWER TOOL NOISE. We can see the usual bright interrogation spotlight, and a couple of extra GOONS watching the goings on, but Stuey and his actual torturer are hidden by Laughing Man's chair. STUEY (O.S.) AHHHHH! STOP IT! OOOWWWWW! We move past Mr. Big's chair to reveal Stuey lying face down on a table, while Bob Vila is using a power sander on his butt. Bob is happily giving pointers to the two goons. 61. BOB Notice the way I use an elliptical motion to chafe Stuey's buttocks. (the Goons nod ATTENTIVELY) It's all here in my new book: Pipes, Fixtures, and Torturing TROLLS-- LAUGHING MAN(O.S.) (Loud, sharp laugh) A-HA-HA-HAHA-HA-HA-HA! Bob obediently shuts up. Laughing Man directs a sinister low chuckle to Stuey. STUEY No way. I'll never talk! I'm made of stone! Bob considers this a second, then starts up a jackhammer. STUEY HELP! RICK! RIIIIIIIIIICCKKK! CUT TO: INT. FREAK HOUSE - DAY We hear LONESOME HARMONICA MUSIC as we pan past the cubicles. Cowboy is playing the harmonica... The Bearded Lady unties the pretty pink ribbon in his hair and sets it aside... Suddenly, we switch to HORRIFIC PSYCHO STINGS as the camera picks up PAUL LYNDE'S CORPSE with flashing red lights. His eyeball drips out of the socket again... Then it's back to the SAD HARMONICA MUSIC. In the next cubicle, Ernie is sleeping, Julie is awake, dreamily fondling a large eclair. She looks longingly up towards Rick's cubicle as we... DREAM DISSOLVE TO: DREAMLAND Rick (his face is normal) and Julie kiss passionately in a billowy white bed amidst puffy clouds. 62. RICK (SINCERE) Julie, compared to this, sex with Julia Roberts was a thankless chore. QUICK DISSOLVE BACK TO: JULIE' We follow her gaze, panning up to Rick. He's lying on his bed, dreamily fondling a donut. He looks down towards Julie's cabin... DREAM DISSOLVE TO: DREAMLAND Rick and Julie kiss passionately. We're tight on them. JULIE Oh Rick, you've touched a place in me no one has ever touched before. ERNIE(O.S.) I'll say! Almost punctured a kidney! WIDEN to show Ernie, still attached to Julie, leering at Rick. Rick is mortified. QUICK DREAM DISSOLVE TO: INT. FREAK HOUSE - DAY Rick sits in his cubicle, visibly sickened by his daydream. Stuey's echoey voice drifts in. STUEY(V.0.) Rick! Riiiicccck! A holographic image of Stuey lying on the torture table appears over Rick. We can see the jackhammer looming over Stuey's face. Rick looks alarmed. STUEY HOLOGRAM Rick! Do something! It's up to you, Rick! Pleeeeeeease! LAUGHING MAN (O.S) Aha-hee-hee-ho-ho-har-har-har! 63. RICK The Laughing Man! Rick watches the hologram break up and disappear. Wheels spinning in his head, he takes the crumpled piece of paper out of his pocket and reads it. RICK (under his breath) Holy shit! JULIE/ERNIE'S CUBICLE Julie and Ernie are struggling over a bottle of deodorant. ERNIE It says it's strong enough for a man! JULIE But it's made for a woman! She grabs it away and shoves it in Ernie's mouth. Rick walks in. JULIE Hey Rick. What's up? RICK Read this. I grabbed it from Skuggs' office. He hands her the notepaper. She reads it, with some difficulty. Ernie is still gagging on deodorant. JULIE "Tape Donahue... Renew Subscription to Beaver World..." Eeuw! She gives Rick a disgusted look. Ernie mumbles with the deodorant in his mouth. ERNIE (interested, muffled) Beaver World!? Julie smacks him--he swallows the deodorant. RICK (TO JULIE) After that. 64. JULIE "Prepare demonstration for Laughing Man, receive five thousand barrels of Noxon." Five thousand barrels!? RICK Elijah's up to something big, and we have to stop him. Ernie BELCHES. Rick sniffs the air. RICK Mmmm. Jasmine. SWISH PAN TO: INT. FREAK HOUSE - DAY Rick takes a deep breath, and begins his presentation to the freaks assembled before him. RICK Alright guys, listen up-- Sockhead suddenly freaks out. SOCKHEAD We're done for! We're done for! I don't want to die! It's the end of the world! The apocalypse! Aahh! He stops. Everyone is staring at him. RICK I haven't said anything yet. SOCKHEAD Sorry. I'm not much for timing. He takes his seat again. RICK (TO EVERYONE) Tomorrow night, at the show, I'll be turned into a homicidal monster and forced to kill you all. But we might have a chance if we act fast. And I'm prepared to be your new leader. A THRILLING CHORD. 65. NOSEY (TO SOCKHEAD) I say we kill him. Sockhead nods. RICK And I've got a plan. ANOTHER THRILLING CHORD. NOSEY I still say we kill him. Sockhead nods again. RICK If we can get into Elijah's lab, maybe we can-- WORM Of course! Design a super freak of our own and manipulate the genetic code to make him destroy Elijah instead of us! Brilliant! RICK Oh. Well-- BEARDED LADY But how do we get to the lab? RICK Um, maybe-- COWBOY Right! The worm could dig a tunnel! WORM By God, it's so crazy it might just work! ERNIE But you need Noxon 24 to make the freaking sludge, and Elijah told us himself he's run out of it. RICK Oh. Oh yeah. Well, see, what I was going to say was-- 66. JULIE Yes! Exactly! If they've been using Noxon 24 as a fertilizer here, the entire ecosystem must be soaked with it! All we need is a way to extract it from the vegetation, ideally into a liquid form. RICK Right. Well, what about-- COWBOY Golly! So that's why my milk comes out that funny green color! I thought the grass tasted funny! Wow, Rick, you're a genius! JULIE (SMILES WARMLY) Good thinking, Rick. The freaks all nod in agreement. NOSEY Way to go, Rick! How did you ever think of such a plan? Rick pulls out an old comic book and points to an ad for Sea Monkeys. RICK Well, actually, I was going to suggest we send away for sea monkeys, train them to fire guns, and make a break for it. But if you want to go with this other thing, I guess that's okay. The freaks stare at him, not sure if he's kidding or not. CUT TO: INT. FREAK HOUSE - NIGHT FREAKS ON A MISSION MONTAGE, SET TO A POUNDING "EYE OF THE TIGER"-TYPE SONG -Nosey milks Cowboy, squirting the glowing milk into a funnel which feeds into a crude still. The Torch heats the boiler. -The Worm digs the tunnel. JulieErnie hand Rick pieces of wood which he puts into place as tunnel supports. They hand him Paul Lynde's corpse and he wedges it in as well. 67. -Everyone's getting into it and working up a sweat. Nosey wipes his brow, opens a bottle of Pepsi and chugs it down in a beautifully lit slo-mo product shot... The other freaks follow suit, including the Worm, down in the tunnel, who struggles to hold the bottle in his tiny feeler. Everything's going great and the song is really pumping when... ELIJAH runs out on his front porch in his nightclothes and screams down at the outhouse. ELIJAH WOULD YOU TURN DOWN THAT GODDAMN RACKET!? IN THE FREAK HOUSE Nosey turns off a boom box and the music cuts short. The freaks exchange tense looks. Nosey calls out apologetically to Elijah. NOSEY SOR-RY. (to the freaks) What a jerk! INT. UNDERGROUND TUNNEL The Worm burrows along, leaving a tunnel wide enough for Rick and JulieErnie to crawl after him. Rick notices a ray of light coming through a rock formation. RICK Hey, look at this! They all stop and look. Rick fingers the hole, and the rocks cave in, revealing A VAST UNDERGROUND CITY It's obviously a matte painting. WORM Good Lord! It's the Lost City of Nodd! JULIE Wow! 68. KER-CHUNK! We hear the sound of a slide projector switching slides and the underground city is replaced by a still image of some tourists standing around a geyser. [foriegn version: the Blarney Stone]. RICK It's Old Faithful! (foriegn take: "It's the Blarney Stone!"] They "Ooh" and "Ahh". The image switches to a snapshot of a FAT MIDDLE-AGED WOMAN. ERNIE It's my Aunt Gladys! The other freaks nod politely. The image switches to a BAR MITZVAH PHOTO. ERNIE And that's me at my bar mitzvah! RICK C'mon Ernie, let's go. ERNIE Wait, you gotta see the ones from sleep-away camp! They're hilarious! Julie smacks him. JULIE Stooge! EXT. FREAK COMPOUND - NIGHT It's an "Antfarm View" of the yard, where the freaks are visible tunneling underground, and Toad is visible on the yard above them. We see a bat fly overhead... ZAP! Toad shoots out his tongue, snags it out of mid air, and chews it happily, oblivious to the freaks burrowing right underneath him. INT. FREAK HOUSE Nosey looks at the nearly full container of distilled Noxon. NOSEY Almost there. (he sniffs the air) But wait, I'm getting a whiff of things to come! 69. BEARDED LADY What do you smell? NOSEY (GRIM) Blood. Bearded Lady looks grave..Nosey sniffs again. NOSEY (CHEERFUL) And hot buttered popcorn! BEARDED LADY Awwright! INT. TUNNEL They're burrowing along. Ernie loudly clears his throat. Julie spits out a loogie. She grimaces. JULIE I hate when you do that. We hear muffled BARKING. ERNIE Hey! Do you hear that? JULIE It's a dog! RICK (TO WORM) Hurry! The Worm breaks through into a small cavern with several exposed sewer pipes. A lovable mutt leaps out of a pipe and drops an old tennis ball in front of Rick. He starts licking Rick's face. RICK Scrappy! SAPPY MUSIC wells up. RICK It's been ten years since you chased this ball into the sewer! I thought you were gone for good! SCRAPPY Yap! 70. RICK Listen Scrap. Go home. Get help. Understand? SCRAPPY Yap! RICK Good boy! Now go! Scrappy runs away into the sewer pipe. Rick shrugs. RICK You never know. Julie taps on some exposed wood on the cavern ceiling. JULIE Look, a wood floor. WORM It must be the lab! we've done it! They all look at each other excitedly. Suddenly Elijah's voice rings out behind them. ELIJAH'S VOICE Not so fast, you scabrous freaks! They spin around and see Nosey holding the bottle of Noxon 24. He grins. NOSEY Didn't know I did impressions, did ya? INT. FREAK HOUSE The freaks are waiting around the hole. Nosey pops out. NOSEY Mission accomplished. They've got the Noxon, and they'll be in the lab within minutes. FROGMAN Boy, this is going like clockwork! Everyone smiles, pats each other on the back, etc. Except Sockhead, who finally snaps. SOCKHEAD No! Can't you see we're digging our own graves!? (MORE) 71. It's nuts, SOCKHEAD(cont'd) that's what it is! Nuts! Well, maybe you've all got a deathwish, but you can count me out! I'M GETTING THE HELL OUT OF HERE! He runs amok, pushes various freaks to the ground, and runs around screaming. The freak house door opens--Eye and Eye step in to check out the noise. One of them has a spliff sticking out of its pupil. Sockhead charges at them like a mad dog. They aim their Uzis. SOCKHEAD (at the Eyes) OUT OF MY WAY! RATTA-RATTA-RATTA! They spray an ungodly amount of bullets into Sockhead. He falls to the ground. The Eyes leave. The freaks gather around Sockhead. Nosey pulls the sock off his hand head, which is making a little "Senor Pepe" face with its fist. It spits up a trickle of blood and tries to speak. SOCKHEAD (WEAK) I... I... just... wanna...say... NOSEY What is it, kid? SOCKHEAD Ah, forget it. I'm not much for dying. He goes limp. CUT TO: INT. ELIJAH'S LAB JulieErnie, the Worm, and Rick are just emerging from the hole. It's really dark in the lab. ERNIE Shit. I can't see a damn thing. RICK Keep your voice down, Ernie. ERNIE Don't push me, Coog. I got a real short fuse today. I'm cranky, bloated, got a wicked case of cramps. Don't ask why. 72. JULIE (whispers to Rick) PMS... RICK (has to think about this) Oh.... Right. Rick pats Ernie on the shoulder reassuringly. He moves over to Elijah's computer terminal. RICK (CONT'D) Well, here it is--the control panel for Elijah's Freaking process. WORM Good work, my boy. Now step aside. This is scientist's work. Worm muscles Rick out of the way and sits at the console. Using a pen held in his mouth, he flicks a series of switches and punches a fast series of computer keys. The light on top of the Tasty Freekz machine starts to revolve, and after a couple of seconds, a stream of GOOEY LIGHT BROWN GLOP oozes out of the spigot. ERNIE Hey! It's working! RICK You did it, Worm! Way to go! JULIE But how? You didn't even use the Noxon. The Worm rushes over to the container of glop below the spigot, and without hesitation, plunges his face into it! Rick, Julie, and Ernie gasp in horror! The WORM lifts his glop-smeared face out of the bowl, and smacks his

kin

How many times the word 'kin' appears in the text?

{I'M UGLY} Into this breathing world, scarse half made up, {I'M REALLY UGLY} And that so lamely and unfashionable, That dogs bark at me as I halt by them. {I'M F KIN' BUTT-UGLY, ALRIGHT!?} Why I, in this weak piping time of peace, {BLAH, BLAH, BLAH} Have no delight to pass away the time, {I NEVER GET LAID...} Unless to see my shadow in the sun, And descant on mine own deformity! {BECAUSE I'M UGLY} Rick bows. The crowd bursts into applause. They yell "Bravo" and throw bouquets. Rick takes several curtain calls. The freaks cheer for him. Julie is particularly moved--she and Rick exchange a heavy look, laden with romantic potential. NOTE: We will insert an almost subliminal one-frame shot of the Pepsi logo at this triumphant moment. Kevin, the EES executive from the airport scene, walks into the tent. Rick sees him and gasps with joy. He leaps off the stage, runs up to Kevin and hugs him. Kevin is shocked, of course. Overcome by the moment, Rick regresses to his old self. RICK I'm saved! Haha! You sorry mutants are gonna rot in this hole while I'm sipping mint juleps by the pool! {AS FORTUNE SMILES O'ER MY FATE, SO DESTINY SPURNS YOUR ACCURSE'D PATE} The freaks and the audience gasp at Rick's cruelty. Julie is shocked--Juan gives her an "I told you so" look. Rick sees Julie and catches himself. 49. RICK (TO KEVIN) I mean, um, I hope you have room for all my friends, heh-heh. KEVIN Rick, Rick, listen, I really love this new look you've come up with. But just between you and me, I don't think the guys upstairs would really get it. RICK What are you saying!? KEVIN (CHUCKLES SNIDELY) I'm saying you're ugly enough to burn the nosehairs off a dead nun. The crowd bursts into cruel hysterics, pointing mockingly at Rick. Even Alistair Cooke is practically choking with laughter. ALISTAIR COOKE AH-HA-HA-HA! WHAT A PUTZ! Rick looks around, horrified at the sea of evil, jeering faces. He begins to tremble. Then... RICK'S MONSTER EYE springs to life for the first time and glows red with rage. His whole monster side awakens and takes charge of his body with violent intensity. He grabs Kevin's head and screams in a new, monstrous voice. RICK EAT SHIT! POP! He plucks Kevin's head off his neck and holds it aloft. The head stares down at Rick in disbelief. KEVIN'S HEAD Now you're just being childish. Rick serves the head like a volleyball, smashing it to bits. The crowd panics and charges for the exits. CROWD AHHHHHH! HELP! LET US OUT OF HERE! People are trampling over each other in the mayhem. Alistair Cooke is crushed under the stampede. 50. The freaks are horrified. Monster Rick growls triumphantly. Elijah looks on, intrigued. ELIJAH Now that's entertainment. INT. FREAK HOUSE - MORNING Rick awakens with a start and gets up. He approaches JulieErnie, The Bearded Lady, Nosey and Dog Boy, who are idly playing a game of "Wheel of Fortune." The cubicles contain large blank blocks, like the "letters" on the game show. So far, there's a "D", two "S"s, and a "K" revealed. Rosie the Pinhead plays Vanna White's role. NOSEY I'd like to buy a vowel. The Bearded lady yawns. Rick edges towards them. RICK Hey. The Wheel. Mind if I sit in? Juan advances towards Rick, sneering. JUAN So. Now you don't mind mixing with us--how did you say it--sorry mutants? RICK Look! I'm sorry for what happened at the show. Can't you just forget it? He shakes his finger at Juan, and notices there's still a human nose stuck on his monster claw. He wipes it off, embarrassed. There's an awkward pause. Ernie breaks the silence. ERNIE Hey, shouldn't you tell Rick about your big escape plan? Juan gives Ernie a nasty "shut up" look. He growls at him. ERNIE Well, excuse me for living. RICK You have an escape plan? JUAN Listen, Beast Boy, the games are a simple diversion. (MORE) 51. JUAN(CONT'D) Beneath our twisted flesh we freaks cry out for freedom! Aooooooorrraaaagh! Juan howls lustily. He looks to rest of the freaks. They're a pathetic lot, and their half-hearted howl proves it. FREAKS Aoo... Beat. JULIE Juan's plan is really ingenious Rick. See, he figured out that-- JUAN I figured out that our escape does not include the Beast Boy. No one may discuss the plan with him, understand? Juan gives the others a threatening look. They mumble agreement. RICK What's the matter with all of you? You trust your lives to a guy just 'cause he can lick his own privates? The freaks ponder this a second, then nod "yes". ERNIE You gotta admit, Coog, it's a helluva trick. RICK (RESENTFUL) Fine! I'll just come up with an escape plan of my own then. JUAN Haha! I have spent a year studying this hellhole, devising the perfect escape. You think you'll just tango right out the door!? Ha! Just try it, amigo. RICK I will! Rick turns to go. JulieErnie rush over and try to reason with him quietly. 52. JULIE Rick, wait. ERNIE Yeah. Don't go off half-cocked. Believe me, it ain't all it's cracked up to be. JULIE This isn't one of your dumb movies, Coogan. Look, Juan's a good dog, a smart dog. I'll talk to him. Don't be stupid, Rick. You can't do it without us. RICK Forget it! I don't need you, EES, or anybody else! I'll get out of here all by myself, you... you.,. crud sucking pus monkeys! DING DING DING! The letters in the Wheel of Fortune board light up, and ROSIE turns them over to reveal "Crud Sucking Pus Monkeys" as the secret phrase. Everyone claps despite themselves. Juan stares them down. They stop. Rick storms off in a huff. Juan takes Julie's hand and gazes deep into her eyes. He kisses her passionately. Julie is watching Rick leave. Juan nibbles her neck, which gets her attention. She scratches Juan behind his ear. His leg instinctively kicks the air. Ernie looks worried. ERNIE I'm getting a bad feeling here. CUT TO: INT. REAR CORNER OF FREAK HOUSE - DAY Out of sight from the others, Rick approaches the rear door and tries it. It doesn't open from the inside. RICK Damn. He peers out through a crack in the door and sees a MILKMAN getting out of his truck in the driveway. RICK (TO MILKMAN) Psst! Hey, you. Milkman! 53. OUTSIDE The milkman looks over at the outhouse, suspicious. MILKMAN Yeah... ? RICK (V.0.) Just the man I'm lookinq for. Be a pal, and give me a hand will ya? MILKMAN Oooh no! I know you freaks. You'll try anything just to get someone to open that door. Well not me! Ha! He's about to walk away. RICK Okay. Guess I'll just have to milk the world's biggest breasted woman all by myself. Sorry to bother you. The milkman stops in his tracks. He tiptoes over to the back door of the outhouse, listening intently as Rick goes into his "act." RICK (in a lusty womanish VOICE) Ooohh... Milk me! Milk me now! Milk me hard! (Normal Rick voice) I've only got two hands, all right? Geez. I don't care if Elijah did give you skim milk on the right side, chocolate on the left, and eggnog in the middle. The milkman is salivating at the door. MILKMAN (TO HIMSELF) Gee, I love eggnog! The milkman opens the door eagerly and steps inside. Beat. MILKMAN Hey, what the-- BONK. We hear the sound of bottled buttermilk beaning his soft noggin. Rick walks out wearing the milkman outfit complete with the little six-milk-bottle-carrier thing. 54. He looks around and heads for the milk truck, whistling casually. He notices something. It's ... THE GIANT ELIJAH HEAD Its big eyes are staring at Rick (note: there's a skywriter plane in the distance behind the head, which finishes writing "YOU GOT THE RIGHT ONE BABY: PEPSI") Rick gets to the truck and tries the door. It's locked. RICK Shit. He looks over at the giant head. The eyes are still staring at him--they seem to have shifted. Rick shrugs it off and looks around. He walks over to Elijah's car. It's locked too. He checks the big eyes. They've moved again. Rick's getting a bit desperate. He sees something else and runs towards it. It's a dry-docked motorboat. It's locked too. The eyes have followed Rick again. He sees something else and runs over to it. It's a bag of golf clubs leaning against Elijah's porch. They're locked too. RICK Damn! This guy doesn't trust anybody! He looks at the giant head- the eyes are gone, leaving only empty eyesockets! Rick hears A BURST OF MACHINEGUN FIRE behind him, spins around and faces ... TWO THREE FOOT HIGH EYEBALLS with little arms and legs, wearing Jamaican Rasta hats and aiming smoking Uzi 9mms in the air. They aim their Uzis at Rick. One holds a walkie-talkie, the other holds a big spliff. RICK AHHHH! A T.V. MONITOR in Elijah's hands, shows Rick staring at us, the Eye's POV. ELIJAH seen in extreme close-up, watches the surveillance monitor. He speaks into a microphone. We don't see what the room looks like. ELIJAH Good work, Eye and Eye. 55. THE EYES bob in response to Elijah. They have no mouths, but their pupils open and close when they speak. EYE AND EYE (JAMAICAN ACCENTS) Rastafari. ELIJAH (V.0.) (over the walkie-talkie) Now bring the Beast Boy to my, uh, den. Ha-ha-ha-ha! Rick looks worried as they lead him towards the scary looking house. INT. ELIJAH'S DEN It's a lovely, suburban den with a coffee table full of magazines like "Better Homes and Gardens," "National Review" and "Freaks Illustrated". Elijah sits in a big Barcalounger, smoking a pipe. Rick sits on the sofa. Toad walks up with a tray of soft drinks. ELIJAH (TO RICK) Diet soda? RICK No thanks. Elijah points to a bowl of Fiddle Faddle. Toad sits beside Rick. ELIJAH Fiddle Faddle? (Rick shakes his head) You sure? RICK Well, okay. (he scoops some into his MOUTH) Well, are you gonna torture me or kill me or something? ELIJAH Torture my greatest creation ever!? Kill the final piece of the puzzle that I've been putting together for years!? Sure, it'd be fun, but I've got a bigger plan, my boy. (MORE) 56. ELIJAH(CONT'D) And when you ripped off that guy's head, I knew it was working like gangbusters! RICK But I thought I scared everyone away. ELIJAH Uh-huh. And then they told two friends, and they told two friends, and so on, and so on. Look at this. Elijah grabs a big mail bag and spills some letters out on the table. Elijah opens one and reads it. ELIJAH (READING) Dear Mister Skuggs, I was shocked and disgusted when my grandson told me about the head-popping beast at your show. Please send me six tickets. (he reads another) Dear Beast Boy, I used to like New Kids on The Block, but you're way cuter. My favorite ice cream is chocolate. Is it fun ripping people's heads off? I love you. (ANOTHER LETTER) The Beast Boy is on a blood-letting spree, and Oscar is along for the ride! (he looks up at Rick) That one's from Pat Collins! RICK Yeah, but she loves everything. Rick reaches for the Fiddle Faddle but the bowl is empty. Toad BURPS. ELIJAH Toad! That Fiddle Faddle is for guests only! You've had enough! Toad is blankfaced. Elijah walks over and refills the bowl. Rick scoops some into his mouth. Elijah walks to the fireplace and pushes the embers around with a poker. RICK Look Skuggs--Elijah--I've been in show business all my life. The public does not want to see disgusting, depraved violent filth. 57. ELIJAH Oh, and I suppose Jake and the Fatman is just a fluke? The phone rings. Elijah looks at it, and back to Rick. ELIJAH (CONT'D) I'll get it. He goes over to the phone and lifts the receiver. ELIJAH `Yello? On the other end of the line, we hear LAUGHING MAN's insane chuckle. Elijah's smooth smile fades. He turns his back to- Rick, who strains to identify the familiar laughing voice. Elijah scribbles notes on a pad by the phone. ELIJAH Yes... Right... Tomorrow... Mmhmm... Mnunhmm... Wow. Okay. You got it... Hasta la vista to you too. Hahaahahaahaha-- Laughing Man hangs up on Elijah. He looks a little pissed- off as he turns to face Rick again. Grumbling, he takes the poker in hand, and pokes at the coals angrily. ELIJAH Okay, Coogan. I'm finished with you for now. Ricky rises and snatches the notepad just before Elijah spins to face him. ELIJAH (CONT'D) But listen. I may not be "Mr. Tinseltown", but I damn well know what I like. You're gonna be a hideous killing machine, and that's final! Tomorrow night I'll finish the job onstage! And then, to demonstrate your horrible power, you'll slaughter all the old obsolete freaks in cold bl--HEY! Elijah thrusts the red hot fire poker out and ZAP! He catches Toad's ten foot tongue--curled around the searing poker inches from the Fiddle Faddle. TOAD AAAGGGGHH! 58. ELIJAH I told you enough! CUT TO: EXT. ELIJAH'S HOUSE DAY Elijah shows Rick out the door. The Eyes scurry out and leap back into the sockets in the giant head. ELIJAH Bye-bye. And remember, try another escape, and I'll feed your balls to Toad. As he walks towards the Freak House, Rick pulls out the note he pocketed. A gust of wind blows it away from him. He chases it behind the carnival tent where... KKCCLIINNK! He runs into ELEVEN PHONY MILKMEN, backing their way around the corner, each carrying their own six-pack of milkbottles. Startled, they turn around. Why, it's the freaks! And they're all dressed as milkmen! Cowboy carries the hammer, who's dressed in a little milkman suit as well. BEARDED LADY Hey Rick, I thought you were gonna come up with your own escape plan? RICK (TO JUAN) This is your big plan? A dozen milkmen? Isn't that a little unusual? Juan hadn't thought of this. He pushes himself forward and confronts Rick viciously. JUAN Twelve milkmen is theoretically possible. Thirteen is silly. Looks like one milkman too many, Coogan. He pushes Rick aside. The freaks continue past him. RICK Fine then. Go ahead. Hope you like reggae, ya flea bitten bastard. Rick watches as the Freaks approach the open courtyard, where he knows the Eyeballs will spot them. 59. Julie glances at him a second, then looks away. His mind made up, Rick takes a deep breath. RICK Ah, shit. He runs over to the Freaks. He stands in Juan's way. RICK Look, you'll all be killed. You don't know about Elijah's giant Rasta eyeballs with machine guns... (they think he's nuts) It's suicide! I can't let you do it. JUAN And I can't let you stop us. This is it. Rick and Juan square off. Juan growls and bares his teeth. Rick's MONSTER EYE starts to glow and pulse dimly. They circle each other. The others are transfixed. ELIJAH'S POV He peers through a side window, and sees the pack of milkmen cheering two of their coworkers, locked in mortal combat. ELIJAH That's a lot of milkmen on the same route. No wonder they fight. Juan rears back, about to lunge, when suddenly he freezes and looks off into the distance. A SQUIRREL is sitting innocently a few yards off. JUAN Squirrel! He zooms off after the squirrel. The Eyes pop out of the giant head and follow after him, Uzis FIRING. Juan dodges their bullets and disappears after his prey. The freaks watch their best chance of freedom run off after a pesky rodent. They turn to Rick. NOSEY Wow, giant Rasta eyeballs, just like Rick said. SOCKHEAD Gosh, if it wasn't for Rick, we'd all be dead! 60. OTHER FREAKS Yeah! Way to go Rick! Alright! ERNIE (TO JULIE) God, I can't believe he left you for a squirrel. What a dick. Julie's hurt. She doesn't even smack Ernie. RICK You know how men are. Besides, it was a pretty good looking squirrel. Julie looks at Rick. She sees he's trying to be helpful, not sarcastic. JULIE (to the others) Come on. You heard the Beast Boy. Back to the Freak House, now. Her eyes meet Rick's. She manages a smile, and Rick smiles back. Ernie sizes up the situation and groans as they all head back to the Freak House. ERNIE Not again. (TO RICK) Oh well, at least we'll get to try a new position. CUT TO: INT. STARK INTERROGATION ROOM We're moving in towards a door in this desolate, vaguely corporate looking hallway. INSIDE THE ROOM We're looking at the back of Laughing Man's leather chair. We hear his CACKLE, as well as STUEY GLUCK'S TORTURED SCREAMS and a horrible POWER TOOL NOISE. We can see the usual bright interrogation spotlight, and a couple of extra GOONS watching the goings on, but Stuey and his actual torturer are hidden by Laughing Man's chair. STUEY (O.S.) AHHHHH! STOP IT! OOOWWWWW! We move past Mr. Big's chair to reveal Stuey lying face down on a table, while Bob Vila is using a power sander on his butt. Bob is happily giving pointers to the two goons. 61. BOB Notice the way I use an elliptical motion to chafe Stuey's buttocks. (the Goons nod ATTENTIVELY) It's all here in my new book: Pipes, Fixtures, and Torturing TROLLS-- LAUGHING MAN(O.S.) (Loud, sharp laugh) A-HA-HA-HAHA-HA-HA-HA! Bob obediently shuts up. Laughing Man directs a sinister low chuckle to Stuey. STUEY No way. I'll never talk! I'm made of stone! Bob considers this a second, then starts up a jackhammer. STUEY HELP! RICK! RIIIIIIIIIICCKKK! CUT TO: INT. FREAK HOUSE - DAY We hear LONESOME HARMONICA MUSIC as we pan past the cubicles. Cowboy is playing the harmonica... The Bearded Lady unties the pretty pink ribbon in his hair and sets it aside... Suddenly, we switch to HORRIFIC PSYCHO STINGS as the camera picks up PAUL LYNDE'S CORPSE with flashing red lights. His eyeball drips out of the socket again... Then it's back to the SAD HARMONICA MUSIC. In the next cubicle, Ernie is sleeping, Julie is awake, dreamily fondling a large eclair. She looks longingly up towards Rick's cubicle as we... DREAM DISSOLVE TO: DREAMLAND Rick (his face is normal) and Julie kiss passionately in a billowy white bed amidst puffy clouds. 62. RICK (SINCERE) Julie, compared to this, sex with Julia Roberts was a thankless chore. QUICK DISSOLVE BACK TO: JULIE' We follow her gaze, panning up to Rick. He's lying on his bed, dreamily fondling a donut. He looks down towards Julie's cabin... DREAM DISSOLVE TO: DREAMLAND Rick and Julie kiss passionately. We're tight on them. JULIE Oh Rick, you've touched a place in me no one has ever touched before. ERNIE(O.S.) I'll say! Almost punctured a kidney! WIDEN to show Ernie, still attached to Julie, leering at Rick. Rick is mortified. QUICK DREAM DISSOLVE TO: INT. FREAK HOUSE - DAY Rick sits in his cubicle, visibly sickened by his daydream. Stuey's echoey voice drifts in. STUEY(V.0.) Rick! Riiiicccck! A holographic image of Stuey lying on the torture table appears over Rick. We can see the jackhammer looming over Stuey's face. Rick looks alarmed. STUEY HOLOGRAM Rick! Do something! It's up to you, Rick! Pleeeeeeease! LAUGHING MAN (O.S) Aha-hee-hee-ho-ho-har-har-har! 63. RICK The Laughing Man! Rick watches the hologram break up and disappear. Wheels spinning in his head, he takes the crumpled piece of paper out of his pocket and reads it. RICK (under his breath) Holy shit! JULIE/ERNIE'S CUBICLE Julie and Ernie are struggling over a bottle of deodorant. ERNIE It says it's strong enough for a man! JULIE But it's made for a woman! She grabs it away and shoves it in Ernie's mouth. Rick walks in. JULIE Hey Rick. What's up? RICK Read this. I grabbed it from Skuggs' office. He hands her the notepaper. She reads it, with some difficulty. Ernie is still gagging on deodorant. JULIE "Tape Donahue... Renew Subscription to Beaver World..." Eeuw! She gives Rick a disgusted look. Ernie mumbles with the deodorant in his mouth. ERNIE (interested, muffled) Beaver World!? Julie smacks him--he swallows the deodorant. RICK (TO JULIE) After that. 64. JULIE "Prepare demonstration for Laughing Man, receive five thousand barrels of Noxon." Five thousand barrels!? RICK Elijah's up to something big, and we have to stop him. Ernie BELCHES. Rick sniffs the air. RICK Mmmm. Jasmine. SWISH PAN TO: INT. FREAK HOUSE - DAY Rick takes a deep breath, and begins his presentation to the freaks assembled before him. RICK Alright guys, listen up-- Sockhead suddenly freaks out. SOCKHEAD We're done for! We're done for! I don't want to die! It's the end of the world! The apocalypse! Aahh! He stops. Everyone is staring at him. RICK I haven't said anything yet. SOCKHEAD Sorry. I'm not much for timing. He takes his seat again. RICK (TO EVERYONE) Tomorrow night, at the show, I'll be turned into a homicidal monster and forced to kill you all. But we might have a chance if we act fast. And I'm prepared to be your new leader. A THRILLING CHORD. 65. NOSEY (TO SOCKHEAD) I say we kill him. Sockhead nods. RICK And I've got a plan. ANOTHER THRILLING CHORD. NOSEY I still say we kill him. Sockhead nods again. RICK If we can get into Elijah's lab, maybe we can-- WORM Of course! Design a super freak of our own and manipulate the genetic code to make him destroy Elijah instead of us! Brilliant! RICK Oh. Well-- BEARDED LADY But how do we get to the lab? RICK Um, maybe-- COWBOY Right! The worm could dig a tunnel! WORM By God, it's so crazy it might just work! ERNIE But you need Noxon 24 to make the freaking sludge, and Elijah told us himself he's run out of it. RICK Oh. Oh yeah. Well, see, what I was going to say was-- 66. JULIE Yes! Exactly! If they've been using Noxon 24 as a fertilizer here, the entire ecosystem must be soaked with it! All we need is a way to extract it from the vegetation, ideally into a liquid form. RICK Right. Well, what about-- COWBOY Golly! So that's why my milk comes out that funny green color! I thought the grass tasted funny! Wow, Rick, you're a genius! JULIE (SMILES WARMLY) Good thinking, Rick. The freaks all nod in agreement. NOSEY Way to go, Rick! How did you ever think of such a plan? Rick pulls out an old comic book and points to an ad for Sea Monkeys. RICK Well, actually, I was going to suggest we send away for sea monkeys, train them to fire guns, and make a break for it. But if you want to go with this other thing, I guess that's okay. The freaks stare at him, not sure if he's kidding or not. CUT TO: INT. FREAK HOUSE - NIGHT FREAKS ON A MISSION MONTAGE, SET TO A POUNDING "EYE OF THE TIGER"-TYPE SONG -Nosey milks Cowboy, squirting the glowing milk into a funnel which feeds into a crude still. The Torch heats the boiler. -The Worm digs the tunnel. JulieErnie hand Rick pieces of wood which he puts into place as tunnel supports. They hand him Paul Lynde's corpse and he wedges it in as well. 67. -Everyone's getting into it and working up a sweat. Nosey wipes his brow, opens a bottle of Pepsi and chugs it down in a beautifully lit slo-mo product shot... The other freaks follow suit, including the Worm, down in the tunnel, who struggles to hold the bottle in his tiny feeler. Everything's going great and the song is really pumping when... ELIJAH runs out on his front porch in his nightclothes and screams down at the outhouse. ELIJAH WOULD YOU TURN DOWN THAT GODDAMN RACKET!? IN THE FREAK HOUSE Nosey turns off a boom box and the music cuts short. The freaks exchange tense looks. Nosey calls out apologetically to Elijah. NOSEY SOR-RY. (to the freaks) What a jerk! INT. UNDERGROUND TUNNEL The Worm burrows along, leaving a tunnel wide enough for Rick and JulieErnie to crawl after him. Rick notices a ray of light coming through a rock formation. RICK Hey, look at this! They all stop and look. Rick fingers the hole, and the rocks cave in, revealing A VAST UNDERGROUND CITY It's obviously a matte painting. WORM Good Lord! It's the Lost City of Nodd! JULIE Wow! 68. KER-CHUNK! We hear the sound of a slide projector switching slides and the underground city is replaced by a still image of some tourists standing around a geyser. [foriegn version: the Blarney Stone]. RICK It's Old Faithful! (foriegn take: "It's the Blarney Stone!"] They "Ooh" and "Ahh". The image switches to a snapshot of a FAT MIDDLE-AGED WOMAN. ERNIE It's my Aunt Gladys! The other freaks nod politely. The image switches to a BAR MITZVAH PHOTO. ERNIE And that's me at my bar mitzvah! RICK C'mon Ernie, let's go. ERNIE Wait, you gotta see the ones from sleep-away camp! They're hilarious! Julie smacks him. JULIE Stooge! EXT. FREAK COMPOUND - NIGHT It's an "Antfarm View" of the yard, where the freaks are visible tunneling underground, and Toad is visible on the yard above them. We see a bat fly overhead... ZAP! Toad shoots out his tongue, snags it out of mid air, and chews it happily, oblivious to the freaks burrowing right underneath him. INT. FREAK HOUSE Nosey looks at the nearly full container of distilled Noxon. NOSEY Almost there. (he sniffs the air) But wait, I'm getting a whiff of things to come! 69. BEARDED LADY What do you smell? NOSEY (GRIM) Blood. Bearded Lady looks grave..Nosey sniffs again. NOSEY (CHEERFUL) And hot buttered popcorn! BEARDED LADY Awwright! INT. TUNNEL They're burrowing along. Ernie loudly clears his throat. Julie spits out a loogie. She grimaces. JULIE I hate when you do that. We hear muffled BARKING. ERNIE Hey! Do you hear that? JULIE It's a dog! RICK (TO WORM) Hurry! The Worm breaks through into a small cavern with several exposed sewer pipes. A lovable mutt leaps out of a pipe and drops an old tennis ball in front of Rick. He starts licking Rick's face. RICK Scrappy! SAPPY MUSIC wells up. RICK It's been ten years since you chased this ball into the sewer! I thought you were gone for good! SCRAPPY Yap! 70. RICK Listen Scrap. Go home. Get help. Understand? SCRAPPY Yap! RICK Good boy! Now go! Scrappy runs away into the sewer pipe. Rick shrugs. RICK You never know. Julie taps on some exposed wood on the cavern ceiling. JULIE Look, a wood floor. WORM It must be the lab! we've done it! They all look at each other excitedly. Suddenly Elijah's voice rings out behind them. ELIJAH'S VOICE Not so fast, you scabrous freaks! They spin around and see Nosey holding the bottle of Noxon 24. He grins. NOSEY Didn't know I did impressions, did ya? INT. FREAK HOUSE The freaks are waiting around the hole. Nosey pops out. NOSEY Mission accomplished. They've got the Noxon, and they'll be in the lab within minutes. FROGMAN Boy, this is going like clockwork! Everyone smiles, pats each other on the back, etc. Except Sockhead, who finally snaps. SOCKHEAD No! Can't you see we're digging our own graves!? (MORE) 71. It's nuts, SOCKHEAD(cont'd) that's what it is! Nuts! Well, maybe you've all got a deathwish, but you can count me out! I'M GETTING THE HELL OUT OF HERE! He runs amok, pushes various freaks to the ground, and runs around screaming. The freak house door opens--Eye and Eye step in to check out the noise. One of them has a spliff sticking out of its pupil. Sockhead charges at them like a mad dog. They aim their Uzis. SOCKHEAD (at the Eyes) OUT OF MY WAY! RATTA-RATTA-RATTA! They spray an ungodly amount of bullets into Sockhead. He falls to the ground. The Eyes leave. The freaks gather around Sockhead. Nosey pulls the sock off his hand head, which is making a little "Senor Pepe" face with its fist. It spits up a trickle of blood and tries to speak. SOCKHEAD (WEAK) I... I... just... wanna...say... NOSEY What is it, kid? SOCKHEAD Ah, forget it. I'm not much for dying. He goes limp. CUT TO: INT. ELIJAH'S LAB JulieErnie, the Worm, and Rick are just emerging from the hole. It's really dark in the lab. ERNIE Shit. I can't see a damn thing. RICK Keep your voice down, Ernie. ERNIE Don't push me, Coog. I got a real short fuse today. I'm cranky, bloated, got a wicked case of cramps. Don't ask why. 72. JULIE (whispers to Rick) PMS... RICK (has to think about this) Oh.... Right. Rick pats Ernie on the shoulder reassuringly. He moves over to Elijah's computer terminal. RICK (CONT'D) Well, here it is--the control panel for Elijah's Freaking process. WORM Good work, my boy. Now step aside. This is scientist's work. Worm muscles Rick out of the way and sits at the console. Using a pen held in his mouth, he flicks a series of switches and punches a fast series of computer keys. The light on top of the Tasty Freekz machine starts to revolve, and after a couple of seconds, a stream of GOOEY LIGHT BROWN GLOP oozes out of the spigot. ERNIE Hey! It's working! RICK You did it, Worm! Way to go! JULIE But how? You didn't even use the Noxon. The Worm rushes over to the container of glop below the spigot, and without hesitation, plunges his face into it! Rick, Julie, and Ernie gasp in horror! The WORM lifts his glop-smeared face out of the bowl, and smacks his

game

How many times the word 'game' appears in the text?

{I'M UGLY} Into this breathing world, scarse half made up, {I'M REALLY UGLY} And that so lamely and unfashionable, That dogs bark at me as I halt by them. {I'M F KIN' BUTT-UGLY, ALRIGHT!?} Why I, in this weak piping time of peace, {BLAH, BLAH, BLAH} Have no delight to pass away the time, {I NEVER GET LAID...} Unless to see my shadow in the sun, And descant on mine own deformity! {BECAUSE I'M UGLY} Rick bows. The crowd bursts into applause. They yell "Bravo" and throw bouquets. Rick takes several curtain calls. The freaks cheer for him. Julie is particularly moved--she and Rick exchange a heavy look, laden with romantic potential. NOTE: We will insert an almost subliminal one-frame shot of the Pepsi logo at this triumphant moment. Kevin, the EES executive from the airport scene, walks into the tent. Rick sees him and gasps with joy. He leaps off the stage, runs up to Kevin and hugs him. Kevin is shocked, of course. Overcome by the moment, Rick regresses to his old self. RICK I'm saved! Haha! You sorry mutants are gonna rot in this hole while I'm sipping mint juleps by the pool! {AS FORTUNE SMILES O'ER MY FATE, SO DESTINY SPURNS YOUR ACCURSE'D PATE} The freaks and the audience gasp at Rick's cruelty. Julie is shocked--Juan gives her an "I told you so" look. Rick sees Julie and catches himself. 49. RICK (TO KEVIN) I mean, um, I hope you have room for all my friends, heh-heh. KEVIN Rick, Rick, listen, I really love this new look you've come up with. But just between you and me, I don't think the guys upstairs would really get it. RICK What are you saying!? KEVIN (CHUCKLES SNIDELY) I'm saying you're ugly enough to burn the nosehairs off a dead nun. The crowd bursts into cruel hysterics, pointing mockingly at Rick. Even Alistair Cooke is practically choking with laughter. ALISTAIR COOKE AH-HA-HA-HA! WHAT A PUTZ! Rick looks around, horrified at the sea of evil, jeering faces. He begins to tremble. Then... RICK'S MONSTER EYE springs to life for the first time and glows red with rage. His whole monster side awakens and takes charge of his body with violent intensity. He grabs Kevin's head and screams in a new, monstrous voice. RICK EAT SHIT! POP! He plucks Kevin's head off his neck and holds it aloft. The head stares down at Rick in disbelief. KEVIN'S HEAD Now you're just being childish. Rick serves the head like a volleyball, smashing it to bits. The crowd panics and charges for the exits. CROWD AHHHHHH! HELP! LET US OUT OF HERE! People are trampling over each other in the mayhem. Alistair Cooke is crushed under the stampede. 50. The freaks are horrified. Monster Rick growls triumphantly. Elijah looks on, intrigued. ELIJAH Now that's entertainment. INT. FREAK HOUSE - MORNING Rick awakens with a start and gets up. He approaches JulieErnie, The Bearded Lady, Nosey and Dog Boy, who are idly playing a game of "Wheel of Fortune." The cubicles contain large blank blocks, like the "letters" on the game show. So far, there's a "D", two "S"s, and a "K" revealed. Rosie the Pinhead plays Vanna White's role. NOSEY I'd like to buy a vowel. The Bearded lady yawns. Rick edges towards them. RICK Hey. The Wheel. Mind if I sit in? Juan advances towards Rick, sneering. JUAN So. Now you don't mind mixing with us--how did you say it--sorry mutants? RICK Look! I'm sorry for what happened at the show. Can't you just forget it? He shakes his finger at Juan, and notices there's still a human nose stuck on his monster claw. He wipes it off, embarrassed. There's an awkward pause. Ernie breaks the silence. ERNIE Hey, shouldn't you tell Rick about your big escape plan? Juan gives Ernie a nasty "shut up" look. He growls at him. ERNIE Well, excuse me for living. RICK You have an escape plan? JUAN Listen, Beast Boy, the games are a simple diversion. (MORE) 51. JUAN(CONT'D) Beneath our twisted flesh we freaks cry out for freedom! Aooooooorrraaaagh! Juan howls lustily. He looks to rest of the freaks. They're a pathetic lot, and their half-hearted howl proves it. FREAKS Aoo... Beat. JULIE Juan's plan is really ingenious Rick. See, he figured out that-- JUAN I figured out that our escape does not include the Beast Boy. No one may discuss the plan with him, understand? Juan gives the others a threatening look. They mumble agreement. RICK What's the matter with all of you? You trust your lives to a guy just 'cause he can lick his own privates? The freaks ponder this a second, then nod "yes". ERNIE You gotta admit, Coog, it's a helluva trick. RICK (RESENTFUL) Fine! I'll just come up with an escape plan of my own then. JUAN Haha! I have spent a year studying this hellhole, devising the perfect escape. You think you'll just tango right out the door!? Ha! Just try it, amigo. RICK I will! Rick turns to go. JulieErnie rush over and try to reason with him quietly. 52. JULIE Rick, wait. ERNIE Yeah. Don't go off half-cocked. Believe me, it ain't all it's cracked up to be. JULIE This isn't one of your dumb movies, Coogan. Look, Juan's a good dog, a smart dog. I'll talk to him. Don't be stupid, Rick. You can't do it without us. RICK Forget it! I don't need you, EES, or anybody else! I'll get out of here all by myself, you... you.,. crud sucking pus monkeys! DING DING DING! The letters in the Wheel of Fortune board light up, and ROSIE turns them over to reveal "Crud Sucking Pus Monkeys" as the secret phrase. Everyone claps despite themselves. Juan stares them down. They stop. Rick storms off in a huff. Juan takes Julie's hand and gazes deep into her eyes. He kisses her passionately. Julie is watching Rick leave. Juan nibbles her neck, which gets her attention. She scratches Juan behind his ear. His leg instinctively kicks the air. Ernie looks worried. ERNIE I'm getting a bad feeling here. CUT TO: INT. REAR CORNER OF FREAK HOUSE - DAY Out of sight from the others, Rick approaches the rear door and tries it. It doesn't open from the inside. RICK Damn. He peers out through a crack in the door and sees a MILKMAN getting out of his truck in the driveway. RICK (TO MILKMAN) Psst! Hey, you. Milkman! 53. OUTSIDE The milkman looks over at the outhouse, suspicious. MILKMAN Yeah... ? RICK (V.0.) Just the man I'm lookinq for. Be a pal, and give me a hand will ya? MILKMAN Oooh no! I know you freaks. You'll try anything just to get someone to open that door. Well not me! Ha! He's about to walk away. RICK Okay. Guess I'll just have to milk the world's biggest breasted woman all by myself. Sorry to bother you. The milkman stops in his tracks. He tiptoes over to the back door of the outhouse, listening intently as Rick goes into his "act." RICK (in a lusty womanish VOICE) Ooohh... Milk me! Milk me now! Milk me hard! (Normal Rick voice) I've only got two hands, all right? Geez. I don't care if Elijah did give you skim milk on the right side, chocolate on the left, and eggnog in the middle. The milkman is salivating at the door. MILKMAN (TO HIMSELF) Gee, I love eggnog! The milkman opens the door eagerly and steps inside. Beat. MILKMAN Hey, what the-- BONK. We hear the sound of bottled buttermilk beaning his soft noggin. Rick walks out wearing the milkman outfit complete with the little six-milk-bottle-carrier thing. 54. He looks around and heads for the milk truck, whistling casually. He notices something. It's ... THE GIANT ELIJAH HEAD Its big eyes are staring at Rick (note: there's a skywriter plane in the distance behind the head, which finishes writing "YOU GOT THE RIGHT ONE BABY: PEPSI") Rick gets to the truck and tries the door. It's locked. RICK Shit. He looks over at the giant head. The eyes are still staring at him--they seem to have shifted. Rick shrugs it off and looks around. He walks over to Elijah's car. It's locked too. He checks the big eyes. They've moved again. Rick's getting a bit desperate. He sees something else and runs towards it. It's a dry-docked motorboat. It's locked too. The eyes have followed Rick again. He sees something else and runs over to it. It's a bag of golf clubs leaning against Elijah's porch. They're locked too. RICK Damn! This guy doesn't trust anybody! He looks at the giant head- the eyes are gone, leaving only empty eyesockets! Rick hears A BURST OF MACHINEGUN FIRE behind him, spins around and faces ... TWO THREE FOOT HIGH EYEBALLS with little arms and legs, wearing Jamaican Rasta hats and aiming smoking Uzi 9mms in the air. They aim their Uzis at Rick. One holds a walkie-talkie, the other holds a big spliff. RICK AHHHH! A T.V. MONITOR in Elijah's hands, shows Rick staring at us, the Eye's POV. ELIJAH seen in extreme close-up, watches the surveillance monitor. He speaks into a microphone. We don't see what the room looks like. ELIJAH Good work, Eye and Eye. 55. THE EYES bob in response to Elijah. They have no mouths, but their pupils open and close when they speak. EYE AND EYE (JAMAICAN ACCENTS) Rastafari. ELIJAH (V.0.) (over the walkie-talkie) Now bring the Beast Boy to my, uh, den. Ha-ha-ha-ha! Rick looks worried as they lead him towards the scary looking house. INT. ELIJAH'S DEN It's a lovely, suburban den with a coffee table full of magazines like "Better Homes and Gardens," "National Review" and "Freaks Illustrated". Elijah sits in a big Barcalounger, smoking a pipe. Rick sits on the sofa. Toad walks up with a tray of soft drinks. ELIJAH (TO RICK) Diet soda? RICK No thanks. Elijah points to a bowl of Fiddle Faddle. Toad sits beside Rick. ELIJAH Fiddle Faddle? (Rick shakes his head) You sure? RICK Well, okay. (he scoops some into his MOUTH) Well, are you gonna torture me or kill me or something? ELIJAH Torture my greatest creation ever!? Kill the final piece of the puzzle that I've been putting together for years!? Sure, it'd be fun, but I've got a bigger plan, my boy. (MORE) 56. ELIJAH(CONT'D) And when you ripped off that guy's head, I knew it was working like gangbusters! RICK But I thought I scared everyone away. ELIJAH Uh-huh. And then they told two friends, and they told two friends, and so on, and so on. Look at this. Elijah grabs a big mail bag and spills some letters out on the table. Elijah opens one and reads it. ELIJAH (READING) Dear Mister Skuggs, I was shocked and disgusted when my grandson told me about the head-popping beast at your show. Please send me six tickets. (he reads another) Dear Beast Boy, I used to like New Kids on The Block, but you're way cuter. My favorite ice cream is chocolate. Is it fun ripping people's heads off? I love you. (ANOTHER LETTER) The Beast Boy is on a blood-letting spree, and Oscar is along for the ride! (he looks up at Rick) That one's from Pat Collins! RICK Yeah, but she loves everything. Rick reaches for the Fiddle Faddle but the bowl is empty. Toad BURPS. ELIJAH Toad! That Fiddle Faddle is for guests only! You've had enough! Toad is blankfaced. Elijah walks over and refills the bowl. Rick scoops some into his mouth. Elijah walks to the fireplace and pushes the embers around with a poker. RICK Look Skuggs--Elijah--I've been in show business all my life. The public does not want to see disgusting, depraved violent filth. 57. ELIJAH Oh, and I suppose Jake and the Fatman is just a fluke? The phone rings. Elijah looks at it, and back to Rick. ELIJAH (CONT'D) I'll get it. He goes over to the phone and lifts the receiver. ELIJAH `Yello? On the other end of the line, we hear LAUGHING MAN's insane chuckle. Elijah's smooth smile fades. He turns his back to- Rick, who strains to identify the familiar laughing voice. Elijah scribbles notes on a pad by the phone. ELIJAH Yes... Right... Tomorrow... Mmhmm... Mnunhmm... Wow. Okay. You got it... Hasta la vista to you too. Hahaahahaahaha-- Laughing Man hangs up on Elijah. He looks a little pissed- off as he turns to face Rick again. Grumbling, he takes the poker in hand, and pokes at the coals angrily. ELIJAH Okay, Coogan. I'm finished with you for now. Ricky rises and snatches the notepad just before Elijah spins to face him. ELIJAH (CONT'D) But listen. I may not be "Mr. Tinseltown", but I damn well know what I like. You're gonna be a hideous killing machine, and that's final! Tomorrow night I'll finish the job onstage! And then, to demonstrate your horrible power, you'll slaughter all the old obsolete freaks in cold bl--HEY! Elijah thrusts the red hot fire poker out and ZAP! He catches Toad's ten foot tongue--curled around the searing poker inches from the Fiddle Faddle. TOAD AAAGGGGHH! 58. ELIJAH I told you enough! CUT TO: EXT. ELIJAH'S HOUSE DAY Elijah shows Rick out the door. The Eyes scurry out and leap back into the sockets in the giant head. ELIJAH Bye-bye. And remember, try another escape, and I'll feed your balls to Toad. As he walks towards the Freak House, Rick pulls out the note he pocketed. A gust of wind blows it away from him. He chases it behind the carnival tent where... KKCCLIINNK! He runs into ELEVEN PHONY MILKMEN, backing their way around the corner, each carrying their own six-pack of milkbottles. Startled, they turn around. Why, it's the freaks! And they're all dressed as milkmen! Cowboy carries the hammer, who's dressed in a little milkman suit as well. BEARDED LADY Hey Rick, I thought you were gonna come up with your own escape plan? RICK (TO JUAN) This is your big plan? A dozen milkmen? Isn't that a little unusual? Juan hadn't thought of this. He pushes himself forward and confronts Rick viciously. JUAN Twelve milkmen is theoretically possible. Thirteen is silly. Looks like one milkman too many, Coogan. He pushes Rick aside. The freaks continue past him. RICK Fine then. Go ahead. Hope you like reggae, ya flea bitten bastard. Rick watches as the Freaks approach the open courtyard, where he knows the Eyeballs will spot them. 59. Julie glances at him a second, then looks away. His mind made up, Rick takes a deep breath. RICK Ah, shit. He runs over to the Freaks. He stands in Juan's way. RICK Look, you'll all be killed. You don't know about Elijah's giant Rasta eyeballs with machine guns... (they think he's nuts) It's suicide! I can't let you do it. JUAN And I can't let you stop us. This is it. Rick and Juan square off. Juan growls and bares his teeth. Rick's MONSTER EYE starts to glow and pulse dimly. They circle each other. The others are transfixed. ELIJAH'S POV He peers through a side window, and sees the pack of milkmen cheering two of their coworkers, locked in mortal combat. ELIJAH That's a lot of milkmen on the same route. No wonder they fight. Juan rears back, about to lunge, when suddenly he freezes and looks off into the distance. A SQUIRREL is sitting innocently a few yards off. JUAN Squirrel! He zooms off after the squirrel. The Eyes pop out of the giant head and follow after him, Uzis FIRING. Juan dodges their bullets and disappears after his prey. The freaks watch their best chance of freedom run off after a pesky rodent. They turn to Rick. NOSEY Wow, giant Rasta eyeballs, just like Rick said. SOCKHEAD Gosh, if it wasn't for Rick, we'd all be dead! 60. OTHER FREAKS Yeah! Way to go Rick! Alright! ERNIE (TO JULIE) God, I can't believe he left you for a squirrel. What a dick. Julie's hurt. She doesn't even smack Ernie. RICK You know how men are. Besides, it was a pretty good looking squirrel. Julie looks at Rick. She sees he's trying to be helpful, not sarcastic. JULIE (to the others) Come on. You heard the Beast Boy. Back to the Freak House, now. Her eyes meet Rick's. She manages a smile, and Rick smiles back. Ernie sizes up the situation and groans as they all head back to the Freak House. ERNIE Not again. (TO RICK) Oh well, at least we'll get to try a new position. CUT TO: INT. STARK INTERROGATION ROOM We're moving in towards a door in this desolate, vaguely corporate looking hallway. INSIDE THE ROOM We're looking at the back of Laughing Man's leather chair. We hear his CACKLE, as well as STUEY GLUCK'S TORTURED SCREAMS and a horrible POWER TOOL NOISE. We can see the usual bright interrogation spotlight, and a couple of extra GOONS watching the goings on, but Stuey and his actual torturer are hidden by Laughing Man's chair. STUEY (O.S.) AHHHHH! STOP IT! OOOWWWWW! We move past Mr. Big's chair to reveal Stuey lying face down on a table, while Bob Vila is using a power sander on his butt. Bob is happily giving pointers to the two goons. 61. BOB Notice the way I use an elliptical motion to chafe Stuey's buttocks. (the Goons nod ATTENTIVELY) It's all here in my new book: Pipes, Fixtures, and Torturing TROLLS-- LAUGHING MAN(O.S.) (Loud, sharp laugh) A-HA-HA-HAHA-HA-HA-HA! Bob obediently shuts up. Laughing Man directs a sinister low chuckle to Stuey. STUEY No way. I'll never talk! I'm made of stone! Bob considers this a second, then starts up a jackhammer. STUEY HELP! RICK! RIIIIIIIIIICCKKK! CUT TO: INT. FREAK HOUSE - DAY We hear LONESOME HARMONICA MUSIC as we pan past the cubicles. Cowboy is playing the harmonica... The Bearded Lady unties the pretty pink ribbon in his hair and sets it aside... Suddenly, we switch to HORRIFIC PSYCHO STINGS as the camera picks up PAUL LYNDE'S CORPSE with flashing red lights. His eyeball drips out of the socket again... Then it's back to the SAD HARMONICA MUSIC. In the next cubicle, Ernie is sleeping, Julie is awake, dreamily fondling a large eclair. She looks longingly up towards Rick's cubicle as we... DREAM DISSOLVE TO: DREAMLAND Rick (his face is normal) and Julie kiss passionately in a billowy white bed amidst puffy clouds. 62. RICK (SINCERE) Julie, compared to this, sex with Julia Roberts was a thankless chore. QUICK DISSOLVE BACK TO: JULIE' We follow her gaze, panning up to Rick. He's lying on his bed, dreamily fondling a donut. He looks down towards Julie's cabin... DREAM DISSOLVE TO: DREAMLAND Rick and Julie kiss passionately. We're tight on them. JULIE Oh Rick, you've touched a place in me no one has ever touched before. ERNIE(O.S.) I'll say! Almost punctured a kidney! WIDEN to show Ernie, still attached to Julie, leering at Rick. Rick is mortified. QUICK DREAM DISSOLVE TO: INT. FREAK HOUSE - DAY Rick sits in his cubicle, visibly sickened by his daydream. Stuey's echoey voice drifts in. STUEY(V.0.) Rick! Riiiicccck! A holographic image of Stuey lying on the torture table appears over Rick. We can see the jackhammer looming over Stuey's face. Rick looks alarmed. STUEY HOLOGRAM Rick! Do something! It's up to you, Rick! Pleeeeeeease! LAUGHING MAN (O.S) Aha-hee-hee-ho-ho-har-har-har! 63. RICK The Laughing Man! Rick watches the hologram break up and disappear. Wheels spinning in his head, he takes the crumpled piece of paper out of his pocket and reads it. RICK (under his breath) Holy shit! JULIE/ERNIE'S CUBICLE Julie and Ernie are struggling over a bottle of deodorant. ERNIE It says it's strong enough for a man! JULIE But it's made for a woman! She grabs it away and shoves it in Ernie's mouth. Rick walks in. JULIE Hey Rick. What's up? RICK Read this. I grabbed it from Skuggs' office. He hands her the notepaper. She reads it, with some difficulty. Ernie is still gagging on deodorant. JULIE "Tape Donahue... Renew Subscription to Beaver World..." Eeuw! She gives Rick a disgusted look. Ernie mumbles with the deodorant in his mouth. ERNIE (interested, muffled) Beaver World!? Julie smacks him--he swallows the deodorant. RICK (TO JULIE) After that. 64. JULIE "Prepare demonstration for Laughing Man, receive five thousand barrels of Noxon." Five thousand barrels!? RICK Elijah's up to something big, and we have to stop him. Ernie BELCHES. Rick sniffs the air. RICK Mmmm. Jasmine. SWISH PAN TO: INT. FREAK HOUSE - DAY Rick takes a deep breath, and begins his presentation to the freaks assembled before him. RICK Alright guys, listen up-- Sockhead suddenly freaks out. SOCKHEAD We're done for! We're done for! I don't want to die! It's the end of the world! The apocalypse! Aahh! He stops. Everyone is staring at him. RICK I haven't said anything yet. SOCKHEAD Sorry. I'm not much for timing. He takes his seat again. RICK (TO EVERYONE) Tomorrow night, at the show, I'll be turned into a homicidal monster and forced to kill you all. But we might have a chance if we act fast. And I'm prepared to be your new leader. A THRILLING CHORD. 65. NOSEY (TO SOCKHEAD) I say we kill him. Sockhead nods. RICK And I've got a plan. ANOTHER THRILLING CHORD. NOSEY I still say we kill him. Sockhead nods again. RICK If we can get into Elijah's lab, maybe we can-- WORM Of course! Design a super freak of our own and manipulate the genetic code to make him destroy Elijah instead of us! Brilliant! RICK Oh. Well-- BEARDED LADY But how do we get to the lab? RICK Um, maybe-- COWBOY Right! The worm could dig a tunnel! WORM By God, it's so crazy it might just work! ERNIE But you need Noxon 24 to make the freaking sludge, and Elijah told us himself he's run out of it. RICK Oh. Oh yeah. Well, see, what I was going to say was-- 66. JULIE Yes! Exactly! If they've been using Noxon 24 as a fertilizer here, the entire ecosystem must be soaked with it! All we need is a way to extract it from the vegetation, ideally into a liquid form. RICK Right. Well, what about-- COWBOY Golly! So that's why my milk comes out that funny green color! I thought the grass tasted funny! Wow, Rick, you're a genius! JULIE (SMILES WARMLY) Good thinking, Rick. The freaks all nod in agreement. NOSEY Way to go, Rick! How did you ever think of such a plan? Rick pulls out an old comic book and points to an ad for Sea Monkeys. RICK Well, actually, I was going to suggest we send away for sea monkeys, train them to fire guns, and make a break for it. But if you want to go with this other thing, I guess that's okay. The freaks stare at him, not sure if he's kidding or not. CUT TO: INT. FREAK HOUSE - NIGHT FREAKS ON A MISSION MONTAGE, SET TO A POUNDING "EYE OF THE TIGER"-TYPE SONG -Nosey milks Cowboy, squirting the glowing milk into a funnel which feeds into a crude still. The Torch heats the boiler. -The Worm digs the tunnel. JulieErnie hand Rick pieces of wood which he puts into place as tunnel supports. They hand him Paul Lynde's corpse and he wedges it in as well. 67. -Everyone's getting into it and working up a sweat. Nosey wipes his brow, opens a bottle of Pepsi and chugs it down in a beautifully lit slo-mo product shot... The other freaks follow suit, including the Worm, down in the tunnel, who struggles to hold the bottle in his tiny feeler. Everything's going great and the song is really pumping when... ELIJAH runs out on his front porch in his nightclothes and screams down at the outhouse. ELIJAH WOULD YOU TURN DOWN THAT GODDAMN RACKET!? IN THE FREAK HOUSE Nosey turns off a boom box and the music cuts short. The freaks exchange tense looks. Nosey calls out apologetically to Elijah. NOSEY SOR-RY. (to the freaks) What a jerk! INT. UNDERGROUND TUNNEL The Worm burrows along, leaving a tunnel wide enough for Rick and JulieErnie to crawl after him. Rick notices a ray of light coming through a rock formation. RICK Hey, look at this! They all stop and look. Rick fingers the hole, and the rocks cave in, revealing A VAST UNDERGROUND CITY It's obviously a matte painting. WORM Good Lord! It's the Lost City of Nodd! JULIE Wow! 68. KER-CHUNK! We hear the sound of a slide projector switching slides and the underground city is replaced by a still image of some tourists standing around a geyser. [foriegn version: the Blarney Stone]. RICK It's Old Faithful! (foriegn take: "It's the Blarney Stone!"] They "Ooh" and "Ahh". The image switches to a snapshot of a FAT MIDDLE-AGED WOMAN. ERNIE It's my Aunt Gladys! The other freaks nod politely. The image switches to a BAR MITZVAH PHOTO. ERNIE And that's me at my bar mitzvah! RICK C'mon Ernie, let's go. ERNIE Wait, you gotta see the ones from sleep-away camp! They're hilarious! Julie smacks him. JULIE Stooge! EXT. FREAK COMPOUND - NIGHT It's an "Antfarm View" of the yard, where the freaks are visible tunneling underground, and Toad is visible on the yard above them. We see a bat fly overhead... ZAP! Toad shoots out his tongue, snags it out of mid air, and chews it happily, oblivious to the freaks burrowing right underneath him. INT. FREAK HOUSE Nosey looks at the nearly full container of distilled Noxon. NOSEY Almost there. (he sniffs the air) But wait, I'm getting a whiff of things to come! 69. BEARDED LADY What do you smell? NOSEY (GRIM) Blood. Bearded Lady looks grave..Nosey sniffs again. NOSEY (CHEERFUL) And hot buttered popcorn! BEARDED LADY Awwright! INT. TUNNEL They're burrowing along. Ernie loudly clears his throat. Julie spits out a loogie. She grimaces. JULIE I hate when you do that. We hear muffled BARKING. ERNIE Hey! Do you hear that? JULIE It's a dog! RICK (TO WORM) Hurry! The Worm breaks through into a small cavern with several exposed sewer pipes. A lovable mutt leaps out of a pipe and drops an old tennis ball in front of Rick. He starts licking Rick's face. RICK Scrappy! SAPPY MUSIC wells up. RICK It's been ten years since you chased this ball into the sewer! I thought you were gone for good! SCRAPPY Yap! 70. RICK Listen Scrap. Go home. Get help. Understand? SCRAPPY Yap! RICK Good boy! Now go! Scrappy runs away into the sewer pipe. Rick shrugs. RICK You never know. Julie taps on some exposed wood on the cavern ceiling. JULIE Look, a wood floor. WORM It must be the lab! we've done it! They all look at each other excitedly. Suddenly Elijah's voice rings out behind them. ELIJAH'S VOICE Not so fast, you scabrous freaks! They spin around and see Nosey holding the bottle of Noxon 24. He grins. NOSEY Didn't know I did impressions, did ya? INT. FREAK HOUSE The freaks are waiting around the hole. Nosey pops out. NOSEY Mission accomplished. They've got the Noxon, and they'll be in the lab within minutes. FROGMAN Boy, this is going like clockwork! Everyone smiles, pats each other on the back, etc. Except Sockhead, who finally snaps. SOCKHEAD No! Can't you see we're digging our own graves!? (MORE) 71. It's nuts, SOCKHEAD(cont'd) that's what it is! Nuts! Well, maybe you've all got a deathwish, but you can count me out! I'M GETTING THE HELL OUT OF HERE! He runs amok, pushes various freaks to the ground, and runs around screaming. The freak house door opens--Eye and Eye step in to check out the noise. One of them has a spliff sticking out of its pupil. Sockhead charges at them like a mad dog. They aim their Uzis. SOCKHEAD (at the Eyes) OUT OF MY WAY! RATTA-RATTA-RATTA! They spray an ungodly amount of bullets into Sockhead. He falls to the ground. The Eyes leave. The freaks gather around Sockhead. Nosey pulls the sock off his hand head, which is making a little "Senor Pepe" face with its fist. It spits up a trickle of blood and tries to speak. SOCKHEAD (WEAK) I... I... just... wanna...say... NOSEY What is it, kid? SOCKHEAD Ah, forget it. I'm not much for dying. He goes limp. CUT TO: INT. ELIJAH'S LAB JulieErnie, the Worm, and Rick are just emerging from the hole. It's really dark in the lab. ERNIE Shit. I can't see a damn thing. RICK Keep your voice down, Ernie. ERNIE Don't push me, Coog. I got a real short fuse today. I'm cranky, bloated, got a wicked case of cramps. Don't ask why. 72. JULIE (whispers to Rick) PMS... RICK (has to think about this) Oh.... Right. Rick pats Ernie on the shoulder reassuringly. He moves over to Elijah's computer terminal. RICK (CONT'D) Well, here it is--the control panel for Elijah's Freaking process. WORM Good work, my boy. Now step aside. This is scientist's work. Worm muscles Rick out of the way and sits at the console. Using a pen held in his mouth, he flicks a series of switches and punches a fast series of computer keys. The light on top of the Tasty Freekz machine starts to revolve, and after a couple of seconds, a stream of GOOEY LIGHT BROWN GLOP oozes out of the spigot. ERNIE Hey! It's working! RICK You did it, Worm! Way to go! JULIE But how? You didn't even use the Noxon. The Worm rushes over to the container of glop below the spigot, and without hesitation, plunges his face into it! Rick, Julie, and Ernie gasp in horror! The WORM lifts his glop-smeared face out of the bowl, and smacks his

chuckles

How many times the word 'chuckles' appears in the text?

{I'M UGLY} Into this breathing world, scarse half made up, {I'M REALLY UGLY} And that so lamely and unfashionable, That dogs bark at me as I halt by them. {I'M F KIN' BUTT-UGLY, ALRIGHT!?} Why I, in this weak piping time of peace, {BLAH, BLAH, BLAH} Have no delight to pass away the time, {I NEVER GET LAID...} Unless to see my shadow in the sun, And descant on mine own deformity! {BECAUSE I'M UGLY} Rick bows. The crowd bursts into applause. They yell "Bravo" and throw bouquets. Rick takes several curtain calls. The freaks cheer for him. Julie is particularly moved--she and Rick exchange a heavy look, laden with romantic potential. NOTE: We will insert an almost subliminal one-frame shot of the Pepsi logo at this triumphant moment. Kevin, the EES executive from the airport scene, walks into the tent. Rick sees him and gasps with joy. He leaps off the stage, runs up to Kevin and hugs him. Kevin is shocked, of course. Overcome by the moment, Rick regresses to his old self. RICK I'm saved! Haha! You sorry mutants are gonna rot in this hole while I'm sipping mint juleps by the pool! {AS FORTUNE SMILES O'ER MY FATE, SO DESTINY SPURNS YOUR ACCURSE'D PATE} The freaks and the audience gasp at Rick's cruelty. Julie is shocked--Juan gives her an "I told you so" look. Rick sees Julie and catches himself. 49. RICK (TO KEVIN) I mean, um, I hope you have room for all my friends, heh-heh. KEVIN Rick, Rick, listen, I really love this new look you've come up with. But just between you and me, I don't think the guys upstairs would really get it. RICK What are you saying!? KEVIN (CHUCKLES SNIDELY) I'm saying you're ugly enough to burn the nosehairs off a dead nun. The crowd bursts into cruel hysterics, pointing mockingly at Rick. Even Alistair Cooke is practically choking with laughter. ALISTAIR COOKE AH-HA-HA-HA! WHAT A PUTZ! Rick looks around, horrified at the sea of evil, jeering faces. He begins to tremble. Then... RICK'S MONSTER EYE springs to life for the first time and glows red with rage. His whole monster side awakens and takes charge of his body with violent intensity. He grabs Kevin's head and screams in a new, monstrous voice. RICK EAT SHIT! POP! He plucks Kevin's head off his neck and holds it aloft. The head stares down at Rick in disbelief. KEVIN'S HEAD Now you're just being childish. Rick serves the head like a volleyball, smashing it to bits. The crowd panics and charges for the exits. CROWD AHHHHHH! HELP! LET US OUT OF HERE! People are trampling over each other in the mayhem. Alistair Cooke is crushed under the stampede. 50. The freaks are horrified. Monster Rick growls triumphantly. Elijah looks on, intrigued. ELIJAH Now that's entertainment. INT. FREAK HOUSE - MORNING Rick awakens with a start and gets up. He approaches JulieErnie, The Bearded Lady, Nosey and Dog Boy, who are idly playing a game of "Wheel of Fortune." The cubicles contain large blank blocks, like the "letters" on the game show. So far, there's a "D", two "S"s, and a "K" revealed. Rosie the Pinhead plays Vanna White's role. NOSEY I'd like to buy a vowel. The Bearded lady yawns. Rick edges towards them. RICK Hey. The Wheel. Mind if I sit in? Juan advances towards Rick, sneering. JUAN So. Now you don't mind mixing with us--how did you say it--sorry mutants? RICK Look! I'm sorry for what happened at the show. Can't you just forget it? He shakes his finger at Juan, and notices there's still a human nose stuck on his monster claw. He wipes it off, embarrassed. There's an awkward pause. Ernie breaks the silence. ERNIE Hey, shouldn't you tell Rick about your big escape plan? Juan gives Ernie a nasty "shut up" look. He growls at him. ERNIE Well, excuse me for living. RICK You have an escape plan? JUAN Listen, Beast Boy, the games are a simple diversion. (MORE) 51. JUAN(CONT'D) Beneath our twisted flesh we freaks cry out for freedom! Aooooooorrraaaagh! Juan howls lustily. He looks to rest of the freaks. They're a pathetic lot, and their half-hearted howl proves it. FREAKS Aoo... Beat. JULIE Juan's plan is really ingenious Rick. See, he figured out that-- JUAN I figured out that our escape does not include the Beast Boy. No one may discuss the plan with him, understand? Juan gives the others a threatening look. They mumble agreement. RICK What's the matter with all of you? You trust your lives to a guy just 'cause he can lick his own privates? The freaks ponder this a second, then nod "yes". ERNIE You gotta admit, Coog, it's a helluva trick. RICK (RESENTFUL) Fine! I'll just come up with an escape plan of my own then. JUAN Haha! I have spent a year studying this hellhole, devising the perfect escape. You think you'll just tango right out the door!? Ha! Just try it, amigo. RICK I will! Rick turns to go. JulieErnie rush over and try to reason with him quietly. 52. JULIE Rick, wait. ERNIE Yeah. Don't go off half-cocked. Believe me, it ain't all it's cracked up to be. JULIE This isn't one of your dumb movies, Coogan. Look, Juan's a good dog, a smart dog. I'll talk to him. Don't be stupid, Rick. You can't do it without us. RICK Forget it! I don't need you, EES, or anybody else! I'll get out of here all by myself, you... you.,. crud sucking pus monkeys! DING DING DING! The letters in the Wheel of Fortune board light up, and ROSIE turns them over to reveal "Crud Sucking Pus Monkeys" as the secret phrase. Everyone claps despite themselves. Juan stares them down. They stop. Rick storms off in a huff. Juan takes Julie's hand and gazes deep into her eyes. He kisses her passionately. Julie is watching Rick leave. Juan nibbles her neck, which gets her attention. She scratches Juan behind his ear. His leg instinctively kicks the air. Ernie looks worried. ERNIE I'm getting a bad feeling here. CUT TO: INT. REAR CORNER OF FREAK HOUSE - DAY Out of sight from the others, Rick approaches the rear door and tries it. It doesn't open from the inside. RICK Damn. He peers out through a crack in the door and sees a MILKMAN getting out of his truck in the driveway. RICK (TO MILKMAN) Psst! Hey, you. Milkman! 53. OUTSIDE The milkman looks over at the outhouse, suspicious. MILKMAN Yeah... ? RICK (V.0.) Just the man I'm lookinq for. Be a pal, and give me a hand will ya? MILKMAN Oooh no! I know you freaks. You'll try anything just to get someone to open that door. Well not me! Ha! He's about to walk away. RICK Okay. Guess I'll just have to milk the world's biggest breasted woman all by myself. Sorry to bother you. The milkman stops in his tracks. He tiptoes over to the back door of the outhouse, listening intently as Rick goes into his "act." RICK (in a lusty womanish VOICE) Ooohh... Milk me! Milk me now! Milk me hard! (Normal Rick voice) I've only got two hands, all right? Geez. I don't care if Elijah did give you skim milk on the right side, chocolate on the left, and eggnog in the middle. The milkman is salivating at the door. MILKMAN (TO HIMSELF) Gee, I love eggnog! The milkman opens the door eagerly and steps inside. Beat. MILKMAN Hey, what the-- BONK. We hear the sound of bottled buttermilk beaning his soft noggin. Rick walks out wearing the milkman outfit complete with the little six-milk-bottle-carrier thing. 54. He looks around and heads for the milk truck, whistling casually. He notices something. It's ... THE GIANT ELIJAH HEAD Its big eyes are staring at Rick (note: there's a skywriter plane in the distance behind the head, which finishes writing "YOU GOT THE RIGHT ONE BABY: PEPSI") Rick gets to the truck and tries the door. It's locked. RICK Shit. He looks over at the giant head. The eyes are still staring at him--they seem to have shifted. Rick shrugs it off and looks around. He walks over to Elijah's car. It's locked too. He checks the big eyes. They've moved again. Rick's getting a bit desperate. He sees something else and runs towards it. It's a dry-docked motorboat. It's locked too. The eyes have followed Rick again. He sees something else and runs over to it. It's a bag of golf clubs leaning against Elijah's porch. They're locked too. RICK Damn! This guy doesn't trust anybody! He looks at the giant head- the eyes are gone, leaving only empty eyesockets! Rick hears A BURST OF MACHINEGUN FIRE behind him, spins around and faces ... TWO THREE FOOT HIGH EYEBALLS with little arms and legs, wearing Jamaican Rasta hats and aiming smoking Uzi 9mms in the air. They aim their Uzis at Rick. One holds a walkie-talkie, the other holds a big spliff. RICK AHHHH! A T.V. MONITOR in Elijah's hands, shows Rick staring at us, the Eye's POV. ELIJAH seen in extreme close-up, watches the surveillance monitor. He speaks into a microphone. We don't see what the room looks like. ELIJAH Good work, Eye and Eye. 55. THE EYES bob in response to Elijah. They have no mouths, but their pupils open and close when they speak. EYE AND EYE (JAMAICAN ACCENTS) Rastafari. ELIJAH (V.0.) (over the walkie-talkie) Now bring the Beast Boy to my, uh, den. Ha-ha-ha-ha! Rick looks worried as they lead him towards the scary looking house. INT. ELIJAH'S DEN It's a lovely, suburban den with a coffee table full of magazines like "Better Homes and Gardens," "National Review" and "Freaks Illustrated". Elijah sits in a big Barcalounger, smoking a pipe. Rick sits on the sofa. Toad walks up with a tray of soft drinks. ELIJAH (TO RICK) Diet soda? RICK No thanks. Elijah points to a bowl of Fiddle Faddle. Toad sits beside Rick. ELIJAH Fiddle Faddle? (Rick shakes his head) You sure? RICK Well, okay. (he scoops some into his MOUTH) Well, are you gonna torture me or kill me or something? ELIJAH Torture my greatest creation ever!? Kill the final piece of the puzzle that I've been putting together for years!? Sure, it'd be fun, but I've got a bigger plan, my boy. (MORE) 56. ELIJAH(CONT'D) And when you ripped off that guy's head, I knew it was working like gangbusters! RICK But I thought I scared everyone away. ELIJAH Uh-huh. And then they told two friends, and they told two friends, and so on, and so on. Look at this. Elijah grabs a big mail bag and spills some letters out on the table. Elijah opens one and reads it. ELIJAH (READING) Dear Mister Skuggs, I was shocked and disgusted when my grandson told me about the head-popping beast at your show. Please send me six tickets. (he reads another) Dear Beast Boy, I used to like New Kids on The Block, but you're way cuter. My favorite ice cream is chocolate. Is it fun ripping people's heads off? I love you. (ANOTHER LETTER) The Beast Boy is on a blood-letting spree, and Oscar is along for the ride! (he looks up at Rick) That one's from Pat Collins! RICK Yeah, but she loves everything. Rick reaches for the Fiddle Faddle but the bowl is empty. Toad BURPS. ELIJAH Toad! That Fiddle Faddle is for guests only! You've had enough! Toad is blankfaced. Elijah walks over and refills the bowl. Rick scoops some into his mouth. Elijah walks to the fireplace and pushes the embers around with a poker. RICK Look Skuggs--Elijah--I've been in show business all my life. The public does not want to see disgusting, depraved violent filth. 57. ELIJAH Oh, and I suppose Jake and the Fatman is just a fluke? The phone rings. Elijah looks at it, and back to Rick. ELIJAH (CONT'D) I'll get it. He goes over to the phone and lifts the receiver. ELIJAH `Yello? On the other end of the line, we hear LAUGHING MAN's insane chuckle. Elijah's smooth smile fades. He turns his back to- Rick, who strains to identify the familiar laughing voice. Elijah scribbles notes on a pad by the phone. ELIJAH Yes... Right... Tomorrow... Mmhmm... Mnunhmm... Wow. Okay. You got it... Hasta la vista to you too. Hahaahahaahaha-- Laughing Man hangs up on Elijah. He looks a little pissed- off as he turns to face Rick again. Grumbling, he takes the poker in hand, and pokes at the coals angrily. ELIJAH Okay, Coogan. I'm finished with you for now. Ricky rises and snatches the notepad just before Elijah spins to face him. ELIJAH (CONT'D) But listen. I may not be "Mr. Tinseltown", but I damn well know what I like. You're gonna be a hideous killing machine, and that's final! Tomorrow night I'll finish the job onstage! And then, to demonstrate your horrible power, you'll slaughter all the old obsolete freaks in cold bl--HEY! Elijah thrusts the red hot fire poker out and ZAP! He catches Toad's ten foot tongue--curled around the searing poker inches from the Fiddle Faddle. TOAD AAAGGGGHH! 58. ELIJAH I told you enough! CUT TO: EXT. ELIJAH'S HOUSE DAY Elijah shows Rick out the door. The Eyes scurry out and leap back into the sockets in the giant head. ELIJAH Bye-bye. And remember, try another escape, and I'll feed your balls to Toad. As he walks towards the Freak House, Rick pulls out the note he pocketed. A gust of wind blows it away from him. He chases it behind the carnival tent where... KKCCLIINNK! He runs into ELEVEN PHONY MILKMEN, backing their way around the corner, each carrying their own six-pack of milkbottles. Startled, they turn around. Why, it's the freaks! And they're all dressed as milkmen! Cowboy carries the hammer, who's dressed in a little milkman suit as well. BEARDED LADY Hey Rick, I thought you were gonna come up with your own escape plan? RICK (TO JUAN) This is your big plan? A dozen milkmen? Isn't that a little unusual? Juan hadn't thought of this. He pushes himself forward and confronts Rick viciously. JUAN Twelve milkmen is theoretically possible. Thirteen is silly. Looks like one milkman too many, Coogan. He pushes Rick aside. The freaks continue past him. RICK Fine then. Go ahead. Hope you like reggae, ya flea bitten bastard. Rick watches as the Freaks approach the open courtyard, where he knows the Eyeballs will spot them. 59. Julie glances at him a second, then looks away. His mind made up, Rick takes a deep breath. RICK Ah, shit. He runs over to the Freaks. He stands in Juan's way. RICK Look, you'll all be killed. You don't know about Elijah's giant Rasta eyeballs with machine guns... (they think he's nuts) It's suicide! I can't let you do it. JUAN And I can't let you stop us. This is it. Rick and Juan square off. Juan growls and bares his teeth. Rick's MONSTER EYE starts to glow and pulse dimly. They circle each other. The others are transfixed. ELIJAH'S POV He peers through a side window, and sees the pack of milkmen cheering two of their coworkers, locked in mortal combat. ELIJAH That's a lot of milkmen on the same route. No wonder they fight. Juan rears back, about to lunge, when suddenly he freezes and looks off into the distance. A SQUIRREL is sitting innocently a few yards off. JUAN Squirrel! He zooms off after the squirrel. The Eyes pop out of the giant head and follow after him, Uzis FIRING. Juan dodges their bullets and disappears after his prey. The freaks watch their best chance of freedom run off after a pesky rodent. They turn to Rick. NOSEY Wow, giant Rasta eyeballs, just like Rick said. SOCKHEAD Gosh, if it wasn't for Rick, we'd all be dead! 60. OTHER FREAKS Yeah! Way to go Rick! Alright! ERNIE (TO JULIE) God, I can't believe he left you for a squirrel. What a dick. Julie's hurt. She doesn't even smack Ernie. RICK You know how men are. Besides, it was a pretty good looking squirrel. Julie looks at Rick. She sees he's trying to be helpful, not sarcastic. JULIE (to the others) Come on. You heard the Beast Boy. Back to the Freak House, now. Her eyes meet Rick's. She manages a smile, and Rick smiles back. Ernie sizes up the situation and groans as they all head back to the Freak House. ERNIE Not again. (TO RICK) Oh well, at least we'll get to try a new position. CUT TO: INT. STARK INTERROGATION ROOM We're moving in towards a door in this desolate, vaguely corporate looking hallway. INSIDE THE ROOM We're looking at the back of Laughing Man's leather chair. We hear his CACKLE, as well as STUEY GLUCK'S TORTURED SCREAMS and a horrible POWER TOOL NOISE. We can see the usual bright interrogation spotlight, and a couple of extra GOONS watching the goings on, but Stuey and his actual torturer are hidden by Laughing Man's chair. STUEY (O.S.) AHHHHH! STOP IT! OOOWWWWW! We move past Mr. Big's chair to reveal Stuey lying face down on a table, while Bob Vila is using a power sander on his butt. Bob is happily giving pointers to the two goons. 61. BOB Notice the way I use an elliptical motion to chafe Stuey's buttocks. (the Goons nod ATTENTIVELY) It's all here in my new book: Pipes, Fixtures, and Torturing TROLLS-- LAUGHING MAN(O.S.) (Loud, sharp laugh) A-HA-HA-HAHA-HA-HA-HA! Bob obediently shuts up. Laughing Man directs a sinister low chuckle to Stuey. STUEY No way. I'll never talk! I'm made of stone! Bob considers this a second, then starts up a jackhammer. STUEY HELP! RICK! RIIIIIIIIIICCKKK! CUT TO: INT. FREAK HOUSE - DAY We hear LONESOME HARMONICA MUSIC as we pan past the cubicles. Cowboy is playing the harmonica... The Bearded Lady unties the pretty pink ribbon in his hair and sets it aside... Suddenly, we switch to HORRIFIC PSYCHO STINGS as the camera picks up PAUL LYNDE'S CORPSE with flashing red lights. His eyeball drips out of the socket again... Then it's back to the SAD HARMONICA MUSIC. In the next cubicle, Ernie is sleeping, Julie is awake, dreamily fondling a large eclair. She looks longingly up towards Rick's cubicle as we... DREAM DISSOLVE TO: DREAMLAND Rick (his face is normal) and Julie kiss passionately in a billowy white bed amidst puffy clouds. 62. RICK (SINCERE) Julie, compared to this, sex with Julia Roberts was a thankless chore. QUICK DISSOLVE BACK TO: JULIE' We follow her gaze, panning up to Rick. He's lying on his bed, dreamily fondling a donut. He looks down towards Julie's cabin... DREAM DISSOLVE TO: DREAMLAND Rick and Julie kiss passionately. We're tight on them. JULIE Oh Rick, you've touched a place in me no one has ever touched before. ERNIE(O.S.) I'll say! Almost punctured a kidney! WIDEN to show Ernie, still attached to Julie, leering at Rick. Rick is mortified. QUICK DREAM DISSOLVE TO: INT. FREAK HOUSE - DAY Rick sits in his cubicle, visibly sickened by his daydream. Stuey's echoey voice drifts in. STUEY(V.0.) Rick! Riiiicccck! A holographic image of Stuey lying on the torture table appears over Rick. We can see the jackhammer looming over Stuey's face. Rick looks alarmed. STUEY HOLOGRAM Rick! Do something! It's up to you, Rick! Pleeeeeeease! LAUGHING MAN (O.S) Aha-hee-hee-ho-ho-har-har-har! 63. RICK The Laughing Man! Rick watches the hologram break up and disappear. Wheels spinning in his head, he takes the crumpled piece of paper out of his pocket and reads it. RICK (under his breath) Holy shit! JULIE/ERNIE'S CUBICLE Julie and Ernie are struggling over a bottle of deodorant. ERNIE It says it's strong enough for a man! JULIE But it's made for a woman! She grabs it away and shoves it in Ernie's mouth. Rick walks in. JULIE Hey Rick. What's up? RICK Read this. I grabbed it from Skuggs' office. He hands her the notepaper. She reads it, with some difficulty. Ernie is still gagging on deodorant. JULIE "Tape Donahue... Renew Subscription to Beaver World..." Eeuw! She gives Rick a disgusted look. Ernie mumbles with the deodorant in his mouth. ERNIE (interested, muffled) Beaver World!? Julie smacks him--he swallows the deodorant. RICK (TO JULIE) After that. 64. JULIE "Prepare demonstration for Laughing Man, receive five thousand barrels of Noxon." Five thousand barrels!? RICK Elijah's up to something big, and we have to stop him. Ernie BELCHES. Rick sniffs the air. RICK Mmmm. Jasmine. SWISH PAN TO: INT. FREAK HOUSE - DAY Rick takes a deep breath, and begins his presentation to the freaks assembled before him. RICK Alright guys, listen up-- Sockhead suddenly freaks out. SOCKHEAD We're done for! We're done for! I don't want to die! It's the end of the world! The apocalypse! Aahh! He stops. Everyone is staring at him. RICK I haven't said anything yet. SOCKHEAD Sorry. I'm not much for timing. He takes his seat again. RICK (TO EVERYONE) Tomorrow night, at the show, I'll be turned into a homicidal monster and forced to kill you all. But we might have a chance if we act fast. And I'm prepared to be your new leader. A THRILLING CHORD. 65. NOSEY (TO SOCKHEAD) I say we kill him. Sockhead nods. RICK And I've got a plan. ANOTHER THRILLING CHORD. NOSEY I still say we kill him. Sockhead nods again. RICK If we can get into Elijah's lab, maybe we can-- WORM Of course! Design a super freak of our own and manipulate the genetic code to make him destroy Elijah instead of us! Brilliant! RICK Oh. Well-- BEARDED LADY But how do we get to the lab? RICK Um, maybe-- COWBOY Right! The worm could dig a tunnel! WORM By God, it's so crazy it might just work! ERNIE But you need Noxon 24 to make the freaking sludge, and Elijah told us himself he's run out of it. RICK Oh. Oh yeah. Well, see, what I was going to say was-- 66. JULIE Yes! Exactly! If they've been using Noxon 24 as a fertilizer here, the entire ecosystem must be soaked with it! All we need is a way to extract it from the vegetation, ideally into a liquid form. RICK Right. Well, what about-- COWBOY Golly! So that's why my milk comes out that funny green color! I thought the grass tasted funny! Wow, Rick, you're a genius! JULIE (SMILES WARMLY) Good thinking, Rick. The freaks all nod in agreement. NOSEY Way to go, Rick! How did you ever think of such a plan? Rick pulls out an old comic book and points to an ad for Sea Monkeys. RICK Well, actually, I was going to suggest we send away for sea monkeys, train them to fire guns, and make a break for it. But if you want to go with this other thing, I guess that's okay. The freaks stare at him, not sure if he's kidding or not. CUT TO: INT. FREAK HOUSE - NIGHT FREAKS ON A MISSION MONTAGE, SET TO A POUNDING "EYE OF THE TIGER"-TYPE SONG -Nosey milks Cowboy, squirting the glowing milk into a funnel which feeds into a crude still. The Torch heats the boiler. -The Worm digs the tunnel. JulieErnie hand Rick pieces of wood which he puts into place as tunnel supports. They hand him Paul Lynde's corpse and he wedges it in as well. 67. -Everyone's getting into it and working up a sweat. Nosey wipes his brow, opens a bottle of Pepsi and chugs it down in a beautifully lit slo-mo product shot... The other freaks follow suit, including the Worm, down in the tunnel, who struggles to hold the bottle in his tiny feeler. Everything's going great and the song is really pumping when... ELIJAH runs out on his front porch in his nightclothes and screams down at the outhouse. ELIJAH WOULD YOU TURN DOWN THAT GODDAMN RACKET!? IN THE FREAK HOUSE Nosey turns off a boom box and the music cuts short. The freaks exchange tense looks. Nosey calls out apologetically to Elijah. NOSEY SOR-RY. (to the freaks) What a jerk! INT. UNDERGROUND TUNNEL The Worm burrows along, leaving a tunnel wide enough for Rick and JulieErnie to crawl after him. Rick notices a ray of light coming through a rock formation. RICK Hey, look at this! They all stop and look. Rick fingers the hole, and the rocks cave in, revealing A VAST UNDERGROUND CITY It's obviously a matte painting. WORM Good Lord! It's the Lost City of Nodd! JULIE Wow! 68. KER-CHUNK! We hear the sound of a slide projector switching slides and the underground city is replaced by a still image of some tourists standing around a geyser. [foriegn version: the Blarney Stone]. RICK It's Old Faithful! (foriegn take: "It's the Blarney Stone!"] They "Ooh" and "Ahh". The image switches to a snapshot of a FAT MIDDLE-AGED WOMAN. ERNIE It's my Aunt Gladys! The other freaks nod politely. The image switches to a BAR MITZVAH PHOTO. ERNIE And that's me at my bar mitzvah! RICK C'mon Ernie, let's go. ERNIE Wait, you gotta see the ones from sleep-away camp! They're hilarious! Julie smacks him. JULIE Stooge! EXT. FREAK COMPOUND - NIGHT It's an "Antfarm View" of the yard, where the freaks are visible tunneling underground, and Toad is visible on the yard above them. We see a bat fly overhead... ZAP! Toad shoots out his tongue, snags it out of mid air, and chews it happily, oblivious to the freaks burrowing right underneath him. INT. FREAK HOUSE Nosey looks at the nearly full container of distilled Noxon. NOSEY Almost there. (he sniffs the air) But wait, I'm getting a whiff of things to come! 69. BEARDED LADY What do you smell? NOSEY (GRIM) Blood. Bearded Lady looks grave..Nosey sniffs again. NOSEY (CHEERFUL) And hot buttered popcorn! BEARDED LADY Awwright! INT. TUNNEL They're burrowing along. Ernie loudly clears his throat. Julie spits out a loogie. She grimaces. JULIE I hate when you do that. We hear muffled BARKING. ERNIE Hey! Do you hear that? JULIE It's a dog! RICK (TO WORM) Hurry! The Worm breaks through into a small cavern with several exposed sewer pipes. A lovable mutt leaps out of a pipe and drops an old tennis ball in front of Rick. He starts licking Rick's face. RICK Scrappy! SAPPY MUSIC wells up. RICK It's been ten years since you chased this ball into the sewer! I thought you were gone for good! SCRAPPY Yap! 70. RICK Listen Scrap. Go home. Get help. Understand? SCRAPPY Yap! RICK Good boy! Now go! Scrappy runs away into the sewer pipe. Rick shrugs. RICK You never know. Julie taps on some exposed wood on the cavern ceiling. JULIE Look, a wood floor. WORM It must be the lab! we've done it! They all look at each other excitedly. Suddenly Elijah's voice rings out behind them. ELIJAH'S VOICE Not so fast, you scabrous freaks! They spin around and see Nosey holding the bottle of Noxon 24. He grins. NOSEY Didn't know I did impressions, did ya? INT. FREAK HOUSE The freaks are waiting around the hole. Nosey pops out. NOSEY Mission accomplished. They've got the Noxon, and they'll be in the lab within minutes. FROGMAN Boy, this is going like clockwork! Everyone smiles, pats each other on the back, etc. Except Sockhead, who finally snaps. SOCKHEAD No! Can't you see we're digging our own graves!? (MORE) 71. It's nuts, SOCKHEAD(cont'd) that's what it is! Nuts! Well, maybe you've all got a deathwish, but you can count me out! I'M GETTING THE HELL OUT OF HERE! He runs amok, pushes various freaks to the ground, and runs around screaming. The freak house door opens--Eye and Eye step in to check out the noise. One of them has a spliff sticking out of its pupil. Sockhead charges at them like a mad dog. They aim their Uzis. SOCKHEAD (at the Eyes) OUT OF MY WAY! RATTA-RATTA-RATTA! They spray an ungodly amount of bullets into Sockhead. He falls to the ground. The Eyes leave. The freaks gather around Sockhead. Nosey pulls the sock off his hand head, which is making a little "Senor Pepe" face with its fist. It spits up a trickle of blood and tries to speak. SOCKHEAD (WEAK) I... I... just... wanna...say... NOSEY What is it, kid? SOCKHEAD Ah, forget it. I'm not much for dying. He goes limp. CUT TO: INT. ELIJAH'S LAB JulieErnie, the Worm, and Rick are just emerging from the hole. It's really dark in the lab. ERNIE Shit. I can't see a damn thing. RICK Keep your voice down, Ernie. ERNIE Don't push me, Coog. I got a real short fuse today. I'm cranky, bloated, got a wicked case of cramps. Don't ask why. 72. JULIE (whispers to Rick) PMS... RICK (has to think about this) Oh.... Right. Rick pats Ernie on the shoulder reassuringly. He moves over to Elijah's computer terminal. RICK (CONT'D) Well, here it is--the control panel for Elijah's Freaking process. WORM Good work, my boy. Now step aside. This is scientist's work. Worm muscles Rick out of the way and sits at the console. Using a pen held in his mouth, he flicks a series of switches and punches a fast series of computer keys. The light on top of the Tasty Freekz machine starts to revolve, and after a couple of seconds, a stream of GOOEY LIGHT BROWN GLOP oozes out of the spigot. ERNIE Hey! It's working! RICK You did it, Worm! Way to go! JULIE But how? You didn't even use the Noxon. The Worm rushes over to the container of glop below the spigot, and without hesitation, plunges his face into it! Rick, Julie, and Ernie gasp in horror! The WORM lifts his glop-smeared face out of the bowl, and smacks his

wit

How many times the word 'wit' appears in the text?

{I'M UGLY} Into this breathing world, scarse half made up, {I'M REALLY UGLY} And that so lamely and unfashionable, That dogs bark at me as I halt by them. {I'M F KIN' BUTT-UGLY, ALRIGHT!?} Why I, in this weak piping time of peace, {BLAH, BLAH, BLAH} Have no delight to pass away the time, {I NEVER GET LAID...} Unless to see my shadow in the sun, And descant on mine own deformity! {BECAUSE I'M UGLY} Rick bows. The crowd bursts into applause. They yell "Bravo" and throw bouquets. Rick takes several curtain calls. The freaks cheer for him. Julie is particularly moved--she and Rick exchange a heavy look, laden with romantic potential. NOTE: We will insert an almost subliminal one-frame shot of the Pepsi logo at this triumphant moment. Kevin, the EES executive from the airport scene, walks into the tent. Rick sees him and gasps with joy. He leaps off the stage, runs up to Kevin and hugs him. Kevin is shocked, of course. Overcome by the moment, Rick regresses to his old self. RICK I'm saved! Haha! You sorry mutants are gonna rot in this hole while I'm sipping mint juleps by the pool! {AS FORTUNE SMILES O'ER MY FATE, SO DESTINY SPURNS YOUR ACCURSE'D PATE} The freaks and the audience gasp at Rick's cruelty. Julie is shocked--Juan gives her an "I told you so" look. Rick sees Julie and catches himself. 49. RICK (TO KEVIN) I mean, um, I hope you have room for all my friends, heh-heh. KEVIN Rick, Rick, listen, I really love this new look you've come up with. But just between you and me, I don't think the guys upstairs would really get it. RICK What are you saying!? KEVIN (CHUCKLES SNIDELY) I'm saying you're ugly enough to burn the nosehairs off a dead nun. The crowd bursts into cruel hysterics, pointing mockingly at Rick. Even Alistair Cooke is practically choking with laughter. ALISTAIR COOKE AH-HA-HA-HA! WHAT A PUTZ! Rick looks around, horrified at the sea of evil, jeering faces. He begins to tremble. Then... RICK'S MONSTER EYE springs to life for the first time and glows red with rage. His whole monster side awakens and takes charge of his body with violent intensity. He grabs Kevin's head and screams in a new, monstrous voice. RICK EAT SHIT! POP! He plucks Kevin's head off his neck and holds it aloft. The head stares down at Rick in disbelief. KEVIN'S HEAD Now you're just being childish. Rick serves the head like a volleyball, smashing it to bits. The crowd panics and charges for the exits. CROWD AHHHHHH! HELP! LET US OUT OF HERE! People are trampling over each other in the mayhem. Alistair Cooke is crushed under the stampede. 50. The freaks are horrified. Monster Rick growls triumphantly. Elijah looks on, intrigued. ELIJAH Now that's entertainment. INT. FREAK HOUSE - MORNING Rick awakens with a start and gets up. He approaches JulieErnie, The Bearded Lady, Nosey and Dog Boy, who are idly playing a game of "Wheel of Fortune." The cubicles contain large blank blocks, like the "letters" on the game show. So far, there's a "D", two "S"s, and a "K" revealed. Rosie the Pinhead plays Vanna White's role. NOSEY I'd like to buy a vowel. The Bearded lady yawns. Rick edges towards them. RICK Hey. The Wheel. Mind if I sit in? Juan advances towards Rick, sneering. JUAN So. Now you don't mind mixing with us--how did you say it--sorry mutants? RICK Look! I'm sorry for what happened at the show. Can't you just forget it? He shakes his finger at Juan, and notices there's still a human nose stuck on his monster claw. He wipes it off, embarrassed. There's an awkward pause. Ernie breaks the silence. ERNIE Hey, shouldn't you tell Rick about your big escape plan? Juan gives Ernie a nasty "shut up" look. He growls at him. ERNIE Well, excuse me for living. RICK You have an escape plan? JUAN Listen, Beast Boy, the games are a simple diversion. (MORE) 51. JUAN(CONT'D) Beneath our twisted flesh we freaks cry out for freedom! Aooooooorrraaaagh! Juan howls lustily. He looks to rest of the freaks. They're a pathetic lot, and their half-hearted howl proves it. FREAKS Aoo... Beat. JULIE Juan's plan is really ingenious Rick. See, he figured out that-- JUAN I figured out that our escape does not include the Beast Boy. No one may discuss the plan with him, understand? Juan gives the others a threatening look. They mumble agreement. RICK What's the matter with all of you? You trust your lives to a guy just 'cause he can lick his own privates? The freaks ponder this a second, then nod "yes". ERNIE You gotta admit, Coog, it's a helluva trick. RICK (RESENTFUL) Fine! I'll just come up with an escape plan of my own then. JUAN Haha! I have spent a year studying this hellhole, devising the perfect escape. You think you'll just tango right out the door!? Ha! Just try it, amigo. RICK I will! Rick turns to go. JulieErnie rush over and try to reason with him quietly. 52. JULIE Rick, wait. ERNIE Yeah. Don't go off half-cocked. Believe me, it ain't all it's cracked up to be. JULIE This isn't one of your dumb movies, Coogan. Look, Juan's a good dog, a smart dog. I'll talk to him. Don't be stupid, Rick. You can't do it without us. RICK Forget it! I don't need you, EES, or anybody else! I'll get out of here all by myself, you... you.,. crud sucking pus monkeys! DING DING DING! The letters in the Wheel of Fortune board light up, and ROSIE turns them over to reveal "Crud Sucking Pus Monkeys" as the secret phrase. Everyone claps despite themselves. Juan stares them down. They stop. Rick storms off in a huff. Juan takes Julie's hand and gazes deep into her eyes. He kisses her passionately. Julie is watching Rick leave. Juan nibbles her neck, which gets her attention. She scratches Juan behind his ear. His leg instinctively kicks the air. Ernie looks worried. ERNIE I'm getting a bad feeling here. CUT TO: INT. REAR CORNER OF FREAK HOUSE - DAY Out of sight from the others, Rick approaches the rear door and tries it. It doesn't open from the inside. RICK Damn. He peers out through a crack in the door and sees a MILKMAN getting out of his truck in the driveway. RICK (TO MILKMAN) Psst! Hey, you. Milkman! 53. OUTSIDE The milkman looks over at the outhouse, suspicious. MILKMAN Yeah... ? RICK (V.0.) Just the man I'm lookinq for. Be a pal, and give me a hand will ya? MILKMAN Oooh no! I know you freaks. You'll try anything just to get someone to open that door. Well not me! Ha! He's about to walk away. RICK Okay. Guess I'll just have to milk the world's biggest breasted woman all by myself. Sorry to bother you. The milkman stops in his tracks. He tiptoes over to the back door of the outhouse, listening intently as Rick goes into his "act." RICK (in a lusty womanish VOICE) Ooohh... Milk me! Milk me now! Milk me hard! (Normal Rick voice) I've only got two hands, all right? Geez. I don't care if Elijah did give you skim milk on the right side, chocolate on the left, and eggnog in the middle. The milkman is salivating at the door. MILKMAN (TO HIMSELF) Gee, I love eggnog! The milkman opens the door eagerly and steps inside. Beat. MILKMAN Hey, what the-- BONK. We hear the sound of bottled buttermilk beaning his soft noggin. Rick walks out wearing the milkman outfit complete with the little six-milk-bottle-carrier thing. 54. He looks around and heads for the milk truck, whistling casually. He notices something. It's ... THE GIANT ELIJAH HEAD Its big eyes are staring at Rick (note: there's a skywriter plane in the distance behind the head, which finishes writing "YOU GOT THE RIGHT ONE BABY: PEPSI") Rick gets to the truck and tries the door. It's locked. RICK Shit. He looks over at the giant head. The eyes are still staring at him--they seem to have shifted. Rick shrugs it off and looks around. He walks over to Elijah's car. It's locked too. He checks the big eyes. They've moved again. Rick's getting a bit desperate. He sees something else and runs towards it. It's a dry-docked motorboat. It's locked too. The eyes have followed Rick again. He sees something else and runs over to it. It's a bag of golf clubs leaning against Elijah's porch. They're locked too. RICK Damn! This guy doesn't trust anybody! He looks at the giant head- the eyes are gone, leaving only empty eyesockets! Rick hears A BURST OF MACHINEGUN FIRE behind him, spins around and faces ... TWO THREE FOOT HIGH EYEBALLS with little arms and legs, wearing Jamaican Rasta hats and aiming smoking Uzi 9mms in the air. They aim their Uzis at Rick. One holds a walkie-talkie, the other holds a big spliff. RICK AHHHH! A T.V. MONITOR in Elijah's hands, shows Rick staring at us, the Eye's POV. ELIJAH seen in extreme close-up, watches the surveillance monitor. He speaks into a microphone. We don't see what the room looks like. ELIJAH Good work, Eye and Eye. 55. THE EYES bob in response to Elijah. They have no mouths, but their pupils open and close when they speak. EYE AND EYE (JAMAICAN ACCENTS) Rastafari. ELIJAH (V.0.) (over the walkie-talkie) Now bring the Beast Boy to my, uh, den. Ha-ha-ha-ha! Rick looks worried as they lead him towards the scary looking house. INT. ELIJAH'S DEN It's a lovely, suburban den with a coffee table full of magazines like "Better Homes and Gardens," "National Review" and "Freaks Illustrated". Elijah sits in a big Barcalounger, smoking a pipe. Rick sits on the sofa. Toad walks up with a tray of soft drinks. ELIJAH (TO RICK) Diet soda? RICK No thanks. Elijah points to a bowl of Fiddle Faddle. Toad sits beside Rick. ELIJAH Fiddle Faddle? (Rick shakes his head) You sure? RICK Well, okay. (he scoops some into his MOUTH) Well, are you gonna torture me or kill me or something? ELIJAH Torture my greatest creation ever!? Kill the final piece of the puzzle that I've been putting together for years!? Sure, it'd be fun, but I've got a bigger plan, my boy. (MORE) 56. ELIJAH(CONT'D) And when you ripped off that guy's head, I knew it was working like gangbusters! RICK But I thought I scared everyone away. ELIJAH Uh-huh. And then they told two friends, and they told two friends, and so on, and so on. Look at this. Elijah grabs a big mail bag and spills some letters out on the table. Elijah opens one and reads it. ELIJAH (READING) Dear Mister Skuggs, I was shocked and disgusted when my grandson told me about the head-popping beast at your show. Please send me six tickets. (he reads another) Dear Beast Boy, I used to like New Kids on The Block, but you're way cuter. My favorite ice cream is chocolate. Is it fun ripping people's heads off? I love you. (ANOTHER LETTER) The Beast Boy is on a blood-letting spree, and Oscar is along for the ride! (he looks up at Rick) That one's from Pat Collins! RICK Yeah, but she loves everything. Rick reaches for the Fiddle Faddle but the bowl is empty. Toad BURPS. ELIJAH Toad! That Fiddle Faddle is for guests only! You've had enough! Toad is blankfaced. Elijah walks over and refills the bowl. Rick scoops some into his mouth. Elijah walks to the fireplace and pushes the embers around with a poker. RICK Look Skuggs--Elijah--I've been in show business all my life. The public does not want to see disgusting, depraved violent filth. 57. ELIJAH Oh, and I suppose Jake and the Fatman is just a fluke? The phone rings. Elijah looks at it, and back to Rick. ELIJAH (CONT'D) I'll get it. He goes over to the phone and lifts the receiver. ELIJAH `Yello? On the other end of the line, we hear LAUGHING MAN's insane chuckle. Elijah's smooth smile fades. He turns his back to- Rick, who strains to identify the familiar laughing voice. Elijah scribbles notes on a pad by the phone. ELIJAH Yes... Right... Tomorrow... Mmhmm... Mnunhmm... Wow. Okay. You got it... Hasta la vista to you too. Hahaahahaahaha-- Laughing Man hangs up on Elijah. He looks a little pissed- off as he turns to face Rick again. Grumbling, he takes the poker in hand, and pokes at the coals angrily. ELIJAH Okay, Coogan. I'm finished with you for now. Ricky rises and snatches the notepad just before Elijah spins to face him. ELIJAH (CONT'D) But listen. I may not be "Mr. Tinseltown", but I damn well know what I like. You're gonna be a hideous killing machine, and that's final! Tomorrow night I'll finish the job onstage! And then, to demonstrate your horrible power, you'll slaughter all the old obsolete freaks in cold bl--HEY! Elijah thrusts the red hot fire poker out and ZAP! He catches Toad's ten foot tongue--curled around the searing poker inches from the Fiddle Faddle. TOAD AAAGGGGHH! 58. ELIJAH I told you enough! CUT TO: EXT. ELIJAH'S HOUSE DAY Elijah shows Rick out the door. The Eyes scurry out and leap back into the sockets in the giant head. ELIJAH Bye-bye. And remember, try another escape, and I'll feed your balls to Toad. As he walks towards the Freak House, Rick pulls out the note he pocketed. A gust of wind blows it away from him. He chases it behind the carnival tent where... KKCCLIINNK! He runs into ELEVEN PHONY MILKMEN, backing their way around the corner, each carrying their own six-pack of milkbottles. Startled, they turn around. Why, it's the freaks! And they're all dressed as milkmen! Cowboy carries the hammer, who's dressed in a little milkman suit as well. BEARDED LADY Hey Rick, I thought you were gonna come up with your own escape plan? RICK (TO JUAN) This is your big plan? A dozen milkmen? Isn't that a little unusual? Juan hadn't thought of this. He pushes himself forward and confronts Rick viciously. JUAN Twelve milkmen is theoretically possible. Thirteen is silly. Looks like one milkman too many, Coogan. He pushes Rick aside. The freaks continue past him. RICK Fine then. Go ahead. Hope you like reggae, ya flea bitten bastard. Rick watches as the Freaks approach the open courtyard, where he knows the Eyeballs will spot them. 59. Julie glances at him a second, then looks away. His mind made up, Rick takes a deep breath. RICK Ah, shit. He runs over to the Freaks. He stands in Juan's way. RICK Look, you'll all be killed. You don't know about Elijah's giant Rasta eyeballs with machine guns... (they think he's nuts) It's suicide! I can't let you do it. JUAN And I can't let you stop us. This is it. Rick and Juan square off. Juan growls and bares his teeth. Rick's MONSTER EYE starts to glow and pulse dimly. They circle each other. The others are transfixed. ELIJAH'S POV He peers through a side window, and sees the pack of milkmen cheering two of their coworkers, locked in mortal combat. ELIJAH That's a lot of milkmen on the same route. No wonder they fight. Juan rears back, about to lunge, when suddenly he freezes and looks off into the distance. A SQUIRREL is sitting innocently a few yards off. JUAN Squirrel! He zooms off after the squirrel. The Eyes pop out of the giant head and follow after him, Uzis FIRING. Juan dodges their bullets and disappears after his prey. The freaks watch their best chance of freedom run off after a pesky rodent. They turn to Rick. NOSEY Wow, giant Rasta eyeballs, just like Rick said. SOCKHEAD Gosh, if it wasn't for Rick, we'd all be dead! 60. OTHER FREAKS Yeah! Way to go Rick! Alright! ERNIE (TO JULIE) God, I can't believe he left you for a squirrel. What a dick. Julie's hurt. She doesn't even smack Ernie. RICK You know how men are. Besides, it was a pretty good looking squirrel. Julie looks at Rick. She sees he's trying to be helpful, not sarcastic. JULIE (to the others) Come on. You heard the Beast Boy. Back to the Freak House, now. Her eyes meet Rick's. She manages a smile, and Rick smiles back. Ernie sizes up the situation and groans as they all head back to the Freak House. ERNIE Not again. (TO RICK) Oh well, at least we'll get to try a new position. CUT TO: INT. STARK INTERROGATION ROOM We're moving in towards a door in this desolate, vaguely corporate looking hallway. INSIDE THE ROOM We're looking at the back of Laughing Man's leather chair. We hear his CACKLE, as well as STUEY GLUCK'S TORTURED SCREAMS and a horrible POWER TOOL NOISE. We can see the usual bright interrogation spotlight, and a couple of extra GOONS watching the goings on, but Stuey and his actual torturer are hidden by Laughing Man's chair. STUEY (O.S.) AHHHHH! STOP IT! OOOWWWWW! We move past Mr. Big's chair to reveal Stuey lying face down on a table, while Bob Vila is using a power sander on his butt. Bob is happily giving pointers to the two goons. 61. BOB Notice the way I use an elliptical motion to chafe Stuey's buttocks. (the Goons nod ATTENTIVELY) It's all here in my new book: Pipes, Fixtures, and Torturing TROLLS-- LAUGHING MAN(O.S.) (Loud, sharp laugh) A-HA-HA-HAHA-HA-HA-HA! Bob obediently shuts up. Laughing Man directs a sinister low chuckle to Stuey. STUEY No way. I'll never talk! I'm made of stone! Bob considers this a second, then starts up a jackhammer. STUEY HELP! RICK! RIIIIIIIIIICCKKK! CUT TO: INT. FREAK HOUSE - DAY We hear LONESOME HARMONICA MUSIC as we pan past the cubicles. Cowboy is playing the harmonica... The Bearded Lady unties the pretty pink ribbon in his hair and sets it aside... Suddenly, we switch to HORRIFIC PSYCHO STINGS as the camera picks up PAUL LYNDE'S CORPSE with flashing red lights. His eyeball drips out of the socket again... Then it's back to the SAD HARMONICA MUSIC. In the next cubicle, Ernie is sleeping, Julie is awake, dreamily fondling a large eclair. She looks longingly up towards Rick's cubicle as we... DREAM DISSOLVE TO: DREAMLAND Rick (his face is normal) and Julie kiss passionately in a billowy white bed amidst puffy clouds. 62. RICK (SINCERE) Julie, compared to this, sex with Julia Roberts was a thankless chore. QUICK DISSOLVE BACK TO: JULIE' We follow her gaze, panning up to Rick. He's lying on his bed, dreamily fondling a donut. He looks down towards Julie's cabin... DREAM DISSOLVE TO: DREAMLAND Rick and Julie kiss passionately. We're tight on them. JULIE Oh Rick, you've touched a place in me no one has ever touched before. ERNIE(O.S.) I'll say! Almost punctured a kidney! WIDEN to show Ernie, still attached to Julie, leering at Rick. Rick is mortified. QUICK DREAM DISSOLVE TO: INT. FREAK HOUSE - DAY Rick sits in his cubicle, visibly sickened by his daydream. Stuey's echoey voice drifts in. STUEY(V.0.) Rick! Riiiicccck! A holographic image of Stuey lying on the torture table appears over Rick. We can see the jackhammer looming over Stuey's face. Rick looks alarmed. STUEY HOLOGRAM Rick! Do something! It's up to you, Rick! Pleeeeeeease! LAUGHING MAN (O.S) Aha-hee-hee-ho-ho-har-har-har! 63. RICK The Laughing Man! Rick watches the hologram break up and disappear. Wheels spinning in his head, he takes the crumpled piece of paper out of his pocket and reads it. RICK (under his breath) Holy shit! JULIE/ERNIE'S CUBICLE Julie and Ernie are struggling over a bottle of deodorant. ERNIE It says it's strong enough for a man! JULIE But it's made for a woman! She grabs it away and shoves it in Ernie's mouth. Rick walks in. JULIE Hey Rick. What's up? RICK Read this. I grabbed it from Skuggs' office. He hands her the notepaper. She reads it, with some difficulty. Ernie is still gagging on deodorant. JULIE "Tape Donahue... Renew Subscription to Beaver World..." Eeuw! She gives Rick a disgusted look. Ernie mumbles with the deodorant in his mouth. ERNIE (interested, muffled) Beaver World!? Julie smacks him--he swallows the deodorant. RICK (TO JULIE) After that. 64. JULIE "Prepare demonstration for Laughing Man, receive five thousand barrels of Noxon." Five thousand barrels!? RICK Elijah's up to something big, and we have to stop him. Ernie BELCHES. Rick sniffs the air. RICK Mmmm. Jasmine. SWISH PAN TO: INT. FREAK HOUSE - DAY Rick takes a deep breath, and begins his presentation to the freaks assembled before him. RICK Alright guys, listen up-- Sockhead suddenly freaks out. SOCKHEAD We're done for! We're done for! I don't want to die! It's the end of the world! The apocalypse! Aahh! He stops. Everyone is staring at him. RICK I haven't said anything yet. SOCKHEAD Sorry. I'm not much for timing. He takes his seat again. RICK (TO EVERYONE) Tomorrow night, at the show, I'll be turned into a homicidal monster and forced to kill you all. But we might have a chance if we act fast. And I'm prepared to be your new leader. A THRILLING CHORD. 65. NOSEY (TO SOCKHEAD) I say we kill him. Sockhead nods. RICK And I've got a plan. ANOTHER THRILLING CHORD. NOSEY I still say we kill him. Sockhead nods again. RICK If we can get into Elijah's lab, maybe we can-- WORM Of course! Design a super freak of our own and manipulate the genetic code to make him destroy Elijah instead of us! Brilliant! RICK Oh. Well-- BEARDED LADY But how do we get to the lab? RICK Um, maybe-- COWBOY Right! The worm could dig a tunnel! WORM By God, it's so crazy it might just work! ERNIE But you need Noxon 24 to make the freaking sludge, and Elijah told us himself he's run out of it. RICK Oh. Oh yeah. Well, see, what I was going to say was-- 66. JULIE Yes! Exactly! If they've been using Noxon 24 as a fertilizer here, the entire ecosystem must be soaked with it! All we need is a way to extract it from the vegetation, ideally into a liquid form. RICK Right. Well, what about-- COWBOY Golly! So that's why my milk comes out that funny green color! I thought the grass tasted funny! Wow, Rick, you're a genius! JULIE (SMILES WARMLY) Good thinking, Rick. The freaks all nod in agreement. NOSEY Way to go, Rick! How did you ever think of such a plan? Rick pulls out an old comic book and points to an ad for Sea Monkeys. RICK Well, actually, I was going to suggest we send away for sea monkeys, train them to fire guns, and make a break for it. But if you want to go with this other thing, I guess that's okay. The freaks stare at him, not sure if he's kidding or not. CUT TO: INT. FREAK HOUSE - NIGHT FREAKS ON A MISSION MONTAGE, SET TO A POUNDING "EYE OF THE TIGER"-TYPE SONG -Nosey milks Cowboy, squirting the glowing milk into a funnel which feeds into a crude still. The Torch heats the boiler. -The Worm digs the tunnel. JulieErnie hand Rick pieces of wood which he puts into place as tunnel supports. They hand him Paul Lynde's corpse and he wedges it in as well. 67. -Everyone's getting into it and working up a sweat. Nosey wipes his brow, opens a bottle of Pepsi and chugs it down in a beautifully lit slo-mo product shot... The other freaks follow suit, including the Worm, down in the tunnel, who struggles to hold the bottle in his tiny feeler. Everything's going great and the song is really pumping when... ELIJAH runs out on his front porch in his nightclothes and screams down at the outhouse. ELIJAH WOULD YOU TURN DOWN THAT GODDAMN RACKET!? IN THE FREAK HOUSE Nosey turns off a boom box and the music cuts short. The freaks exchange tense looks. Nosey calls out apologetically to Elijah. NOSEY SOR-RY. (to the freaks) What a jerk! INT. UNDERGROUND TUNNEL The Worm burrows along, leaving a tunnel wide enough for Rick and JulieErnie to crawl after him. Rick notices a ray of light coming through a rock formation. RICK Hey, look at this! They all stop and look. Rick fingers the hole, and the rocks cave in, revealing A VAST UNDERGROUND CITY It's obviously a matte painting. WORM Good Lord! It's the Lost City of Nodd! JULIE Wow! 68. KER-CHUNK! We hear the sound of a slide projector switching slides and the underground city is replaced by a still image of some tourists standing around a geyser. [foriegn version: the Blarney Stone]. RICK It's Old Faithful! (foriegn take: "It's the Blarney Stone!"] They "Ooh" and "Ahh". The image switches to a snapshot of a FAT MIDDLE-AGED WOMAN. ERNIE It's my Aunt Gladys! The other freaks nod politely. The image switches to a BAR MITZVAH PHOTO. ERNIE And that's me at my bar mitzvah! RICK C'mon Ernie, let's go. ERNIE Wait, you gotta see the ones from sleep-away camp! They're hilarious! Julie smacks him. JULIE Stooge! EXT. FREAK COMPOUND - NIGHT It's an "Antfarm View" of the yard, where the freaks are visible tunneling underground, and Toad is visible on the yard above them. We see a bat fly overhead... ZAP! Toad shoots out his tongue, snags it out of mid air, and chews it happily, oblivious to the freaks burrowing right underneath him. INT. FREAK HOUSE Nosey looks at the nearly full container of distilled Noxon. NOSEY Almost there. (he sniffs the air) But wait, I'm getting a whiff of things to come! 69. BEARDED LADY What do you smell? NOSEY (GRIM) Blood. Bearded Lady looks grave..Nosey sniffs again. NOSEY (CHEERFUL) And hot buttered popcorn! BEARDED LADY Awwright! INT. TUNNEL They're burrowing along. Ernie loudly clears his throat. Julie spits out a loogie. She grimaces. JULIE I hate when you do that. We hear muffled BARKING. ERNIE Hey! Do you hear that? JULIE It's a dog! RICK (TO WORM) Hurry! The Worm breaks through into a small cavern with several exposed sewer pipes. A lovable mutt leaps out of a pipe and drops an old tennis ball in front of Rick. He starts licking Rick's face. RICK Scrappy! SAPPY MUSIC wells up. RICK It's been ten years since you chased this ball into the sewer! I thought you were gone for good! SCRAPPY Yap! 70. RICK Listen Scrap. Go home. Get help. Understand? SCRAPPY Yap! RICK Good boy! Now go! Scrappy runs away into the sewer pipe. Rick shrugs. RICK You never know. Julie taps on some exposed wood on the cavern ceiling. JULIE Look, a wood floor. WORM It must be the lab! we've done it! They all look at each other excitedly. Suddenly Elijah's voice rings out behind them. ELIJAH'S VOICE Not so fast, you scabrous freaks! They spin around and see Nosey holding the bottle of Noxon 24. He grins. NOSEY Didn't know I did impressions, did ya? INT. FREAK HOUSE The freaks are waiting around the hole. Nosey pops out. NOSEY Mission accomplished. They've got the Noxon, and they'll be in the lab within minutes. FROGMAN Boy, this is going like clockwork! Everyone smiles, pats each other on the back, etc. Except Sockhead, who finally snaps. SOCKHEAD No! Can't you see we're digging our own graves!? (MORE) 71. It's nuts, SOCKHEAD(cont'd) that's what it is! Nuts! Well, maybe you've all got a deathwish, but you can count me out! I'M GETTING THE HELL OUT OF HERE! He runs amok, pushes various freaks to the ground, and runs around screaming. The freak house door opens--Eye and Eye step in to check out the noise. One of them has a spliff sticking out of its pupil. Sockhead charges at them like a mad dog. They aim their Uzis. SOCKHEAD (at the Eyes) OUT OF MY WAY! RATTA-RATTA-RATTA! They spray an ungodly amount of bullets into Sockhead. He falls to the ground. The Eyes leave. The freaks gather around Sockhead. Nosey pulls the sock off his hand head, which is making a little "Senor Pepe" face with its fist. It spits up a trickle of blood and tries to speak. SOCKHEAD (WEAK) I... I... just... wanna...say... NOSEY What is it, kid? SOCKHEAD Ah, forget it. I'm not much for dying. He goes limp. CUT TO: INT. ELIJAH'S LAB JulieErnie, the Worm, and Rick are just emerging from the hole. It's really dark in the lab. ERNIE Shit. I can't see a damn thing. RICK Keep your voice down, Ernie. ERNIE Don't push me, Coog. I got a real short fuse today. I'm cranky, bloated, got a wicked case of cramps. Don't ask why. 72. JULIE (whispers to Rick) PMS... RICK (has to think about this) Oh.... Right. Rick pats Ernie on the shoulder reassuringly. He moves over to Elijah's computer terminal. RICK (CONT'D) Well, here it is--the control panel for Elijah's Freaking process. WORM Good work, my boy. Now step aside. This is scientist's work. Worm muscles Rick out of the way and sits at the console. Using a pen held in his mouth, he flicks a series of switches and punches a fast series of computer keys. The light on top of the Tasty Freekz machine starts to revolve, and after a couple of seconds, a stream of GOOEY LIGHT BROWN GLOP oozes out of the spigot. ERNIE Hey! It's working! RICK You did it, Worm! Way to go! JULIE But how? You didn't even use the Noxon. The Worm rushes over to the container of glop below the spigot, and without hesitation, plunges his face into it! Rick, Julie, and Ernie gasp in horror! The WORM lifts his glop-smeared face out of the bowl, and smacks his

aoo

How many times the word 'aoo' appears in the text?

{I'M UGLY} Into this breathing world, scarse half made up, {I'M REALLY UGLY} And that so lamely and unfashionable, That dogs bark at me as I halt by them. {I'M F KIN' BUTT-UGLY, ALRIGHT!?} Why I, in this weak piping time of peace, {BLAH, BLAH, BLAH} Have no delight to pass away the time, {I NEVER GET LAID...} Unless to see my shadow in the sun, And descant on mine own deformity! {BECAUSE I'M UGLY} Rick bows. The crowd bursts into applause. They yell "Bravo" and throw bouquets. Rick takes several curtain calls. The freaks cheer for him. Julie is particularly moved--she and Rick exchange a heavy look, laden with romantic potential. NOTE: We will insert an almost subliminal one-frame shot of the Pepsi logo at this triumphant moment. Kevin, the EES executive from the airport scene, walks into the tent. Rick sees him and gasps with joy. He leaps off the stage, runs up to Kevin and hugs him. Kevin is shocked, of course. Overcome by the moment, Rick regresses to his old self. RICK I'm saved! Haha! You sorry mutants are gonna rot in this hole while I'm sipping mint juleps by the pool! {AS FORTUNE SMILES O'ER MY FATE, SO DESTINY SPURNS YOUR ACCURSE'D PATE} The freaks and the audience gasp at Rick's cruelty. Julie is shocked--Juan gives her an "I told you so" look. Rick sees Julie and catches himself. 49. RICK (TO KEVIN) I mean, um, I hope you have room for all my friends, heh-heh. KEVIN Rick, Rick, listen, I really love this new look you've come up with. But just between you and me, I don't think the guys upstairs would really get it. RICK What are you saying!? KEVIN (CHUCKLES SNIDELY) I'm saying you're ugly enough to burn the nosehairs off a dead nun. The crowd bursts into cruel hysterics, pointing mockingly at Rick. Even Alistair Cooke is practically choking with laughter. ALISTAIR COOKE AH-HA-HA-HA! WHAT A PUTZ! Rick looks around, horrified at the sea of evil, jeering faces. He begins to tremble. Then... RICK'S MONSTER EYE springs to life for the first time and glows red with rage. His whole monster side awakens and takes charge of his body with violent intensity. He grabs Kevin's head and screams in a new, monstrous voice. RICK EAT SHIT! POP! He plucks Kevin's head off his neck and holds it aloft. The head stares down at Rick in disbelief. KEVIN'S HEAD Now you're just being childish. Rick serves the head like a volleyball, smashing it to bits. The crowd panics and charges for the exits. CROWD AHHHHHH! HELP! LET US OUT OF HERE! People are trampling over each other in the mayhem. Alistair Cooke is crushed under the stampede. 50. The freaks are horrified. Monster Rick growls triumphantly. Elijah looks on, intrigued. ELIJAH Now that's entertainment. INT. FREAK HOUSE - MORNING Rick awakens with a start and gets up. He approaches JulieErnie, The Bearded Lady, Nosey and Dog Boy, who are idly playing a game of "Wheel of Fortune." The cubicles contain large blank blocks, like the "letters" on the game show. So far, there's a "D", two "S"s, and a "K" revealed. Rosie the Pinhead plays Vanna White's role. NOSEY I'd like to buy a vowel. The Bearded lady yawns. Rick edges towards them. RICK Hey. The Wheel. Mind if I sit in? Juan advances towards Rick, sneering. JUAN So. Now you don't mind mixing with us--how did you say it--sorry mutants? RICK Look! I'm sorry for what happened at the show. Can't you just forget it? He shakes his finger at Juan, and notices there's still a human nose stuck on his monster claw. He wipes it off, embarrassed. There's an awkward pause. Ernie breaks the silence. ERNIE Hey, shouldn't you tell Rick about your big escape plan? Juan gives Ernie a nasty "shut up" look. He growls at him. ERNIE Well, excuse me for living. RICK You have an escape plan? JUAN Listen, Beast Boy, the games are a simple diversion. (MORE) 51. JUAN(CONT'D) Beneath our twisted flesh we freaks cry out for freedom! Aooooooorrraaaagh! Juan howls lustily. He looks to rest of the freaks. They're a pathetic lot, and their half-hearted howl proves it. FREAKS Aoo... Beat. JULIE Juan's plan is really ingenious Rick. See, he figured out that-- JUAN I figured out that our escape does not include the Beast Boy. No one may discuss the plan with him, understand? Juan gives the others a threatening look. They mumble agreement. RICK What's the matter with all of you? You trust your lives to a guy just 'cause he can lick his own privates? The freaks ponder this a second, then nod "yes". ERNIE You gotta admit, Coog, it's a helluva trick. RICK (RESENTFUL) Fine! I'll just come up with an escape plan of my own then. JUAN Haha! I have spent a year studying this hellhole, devising the perfect escape. You think you'll just tango right out the door!? Ha! Just try it, amigo. RICK I will! Rick turns to go. JulieErnie rush over and try to reason with him quietly. 52. JULIE Rick, wait. ERNIE Yeah. Don't go off half-cocked. Believe me, it ain't all it's cracked up to be. JULIE This isn't one of your dumb movies, Coogan. Look, Juan's a good dog, a smart dog. I'll talk to him. Don't be stupid, Rick. You can't do it without us. RICK Forget it! I don't need you, EES, or anybody else! I'll get out of here all by myself, you... you.,. crud sucking pus monkeys! DING DING DING! The letters in the Wheel of Fortune board light up, and ROSIE turns them over to reveal "Crud Sucking Pus Monkeys" as the secret phrase. Everyone claps despite themselves. Juan stares them down. They stop. Rick storms off in a huff. Juan takes Julie's hand and gazes deep into her eyes. He kisses her passionately. Julie is watching Rick leave. Juan nibbles her neck, which gets her attention. She scratches Juan behind his ear. His leg instinctively kicks the air. Ernie looks worried. ERNIE I'm getting a bad feeling here. CUT TO: INT. REAR CORNER OF FREAK HOUSE - DAY Out of sight from the others, Rick approaches the rear door and tries it. It doesn't open from the inside. RICK Damn. He peers out through a crack in the door and sees a MILKMAN getting out of his truck in the driveway. RICK (TO MILKMAN) Psst! Hey, you. Milkman! 53. OUTSIDE The milkman looks over at the outhouse, suspicious. MILKMAN Yeah... ? RICK (V.0.) Just the man I'm lookinq for. Be a pal, and give me a hand will ya? MILKMAN Oooh no! I know you freaks. You'll try anything just to get someone to open that door. Well not me! Ha! He's about to walk away. RICK Okay. Guess I'll just have to milk the world's biggest breasted woman all by myself. Sorry to bother you. The milkman stops in his tracks. He tiptoes over to the back door of the outhouse, listening intently as Rick goes into his "act." RICK (in a lusty womanish VOICE) Ooohh... Milk me! Milk me now! Milk me hard! (Normal Rick voice) I've only got two hands, all right? Geez. I don't care if Elijah did give you skim milk on the right side, chocolate on the left, and eggnog in the middle. The milkman is salivating at the door. MILKMAN (TO HIMSELF) Gee, I love eggnog! The milkman opens the door eagerly and steps inside. Beat. MILKMAN Hey, what the-- BONK. We hear the sound of bottled buttermilk beaning his soft noggin. Rick walks out wearing the milkman outfit complete with the little six-milk-bottle-carrier thing. 54. He looks around and heads for the milk truck, whistling casually. He notices something. It's ... THE GIANT ELIJAH HEAD Its big eyes are staring at Rick (note: there's a skywriter plane in the distance behind the head, which finishes writing "YOU GOT THE RIGHT ONE BABY: PEPSI") Rick gets to the truck and tries the door. It's locked. RICK Shit. He looks over at the giant head. The eyes are still staring at him--they seem to have shifted. Rick shrugs it off and looks around. He walks over to Elijah's car. It's locked too. He checks the big eyes. They've moved again. Rick's getting a bit desperate. He sees something else and runs towards it. It's a dry-docked motorboat. It's locked too. The eyes have followed Rick again. He sees something else and runs over to it. It's a bag of golf clubs leaning against Elijah's porch. They're locked too. RICK Damn! This guy doesn't trust anybody! He looks at the giant head- the eyes are gone, leaving only empty eyesockets! Rick hears A BURST OF MACHINEGUN FIRE behind him, spins around and faces ... TWO THREE FOOT HIGH EYEBALLS with little arms and legs, wearing Jamaican Rasta hats and aiming smoking Uzi 9mms in the air. They aim their Uzis at Rick. One holds a walkie-talkie, the other holds a big spliff. RICK AHHHH! A T.V. MONITOR in Elijah's hands, shows Rick staring at us, the Eye's POV. ELIJAH seen in extreme close-up, watches the surveillance monitor. He speaks into a microphone. We don't see what the room looks like. ELIJAH Good work, Eye and Eye. 55. THE EYES bob in response to Elijah. They have no mouths, but their pupils open and close when they speak. EYE AND EYE (JAMAICAN ACCENTS) Rastafari. ELIJAH (V.0.) (over the walkie-talkie) Now bring the Beast Boy to my, uh, den. Ha-ha-ha-ha! Rick looks worried as they lead him towards the scary looking house. INT. ELIJAH'S DEN It's a lovely, suburban den with a coffee table full of magazines like "Better Homes and Gardens," "National Review" and "Freaks Illustrated". Elijah sits in a big Barcalounger, smoking a pipe. Rick sits on the sofa. Toad walks up with a tray of soft drinks. ELIJAH (TO RICK) Diet soda? RICK No thanks. Elijah points to a bowl of Fiddle Faddle. Toad sits beside Rick. ELIJAH Fiddle Faddle? (Rick shakes his head) You sure? RICK Well, okay. (he scoops some into his MOUTH) Well, are you gonna torture me or kill me or something? ELIJAH Torture my greatest creation ever!? Kill the final piece of the puzzle that I've been putting together for years!? Sure, it'd be fun, but I've got a bigger plan, my boy. (MORE) 56. ELIJAH(CONT'D) And when you ripped off that guy's head, I knew it was working like gangbusters! RICK But I thought I scared everyone away. ELIJAH Uh-huh. And then they told two friends, and they told two friends, and so on, and so on. Look at this. Elijah grabs a big mail bag and spills some letters out on the table. Elijah opens one and reads it. ELIJAH (READING) Dear Mister Skuggs, I was shocked and disgusted when my grandson told me about the head-popping beast at your show. Please send me six tickets. (he reads another) Dear Beast Boy, I used to like New Kids on The Block, but you're way cuter. My favorite ice cream is chocolate. Is it fun ripping people's heads off? I love you. (ANOTHER LETTER) The Beast Boy is on a blood-letting spree, and Oscar is along for the ride! (he looks up at Rick) That one's from Pat Collins! RICK Yeah, but she loves everything. Rick reaches for the Fiddle Faddle but the bowl is empty. Toad BURPS. ELIJAH Toad! That Fiddle Faddle is for guests only! You've had enough! Toad is blankfaced. Elijah walks over and refills the bowl. Rick scoops some into his mouth. Elijah walks to the fireplace and pushes the embers around with a poker. RICK Look Skuggs--Elijah--I've been in show business all my life. The public does not want to see disgusting, depraved violent filth. 57. ELIJAH Oh, and I suppose Jake and the Fatman is just a fluke? The phone rings. Elijah looks at it, and back to Rick. ELIJAH (CONT'D) I'll get it. He goes over to the phone and lifts the receiver. ELIJAH `Yello? On the other end of the line, we hear LAUGHING MAN's insane chuckle. Elijah's smooth smile fades. He turns his back to- Rick, who strains to identify the familiar laughing voice. Elijah scribbles notes on a pad by the phone. ELIJAH Yes... Right... Tomorrow... Mmhmm... Mnunhmm... Wow. Okay. You got it... Hasta la vista to you too. Hahaahahaahaha-- Laughing Man hangs up on Elijah. He looks a little pissed- off as he turns to face Rick again. Grumbling, he takes the poker in hand, and pokes at the coals angrily. ELIJAH Okay, Coogan. I'm finished with you for now. Ricky rises and snatches the notepad just before Elijah spins to face him. ELIJAH (CONT'D) But listen. I may not be "Mr. Tinseltown", but I damn well know what I like. You're gonna be a hideous killing machine, and that's final! Tomorrow night I'll finish the job onstage! And then, to demonstrate your horrible power, you'll slaughter all the old obsolete freaks in cold bl--HEY! Elijah thrusts the red hot fire poker out and ZAP! He catches Toad's ten foot tongue--curled around the searing poker inches from the Fiddle Faddle. TOAD AAAGGGGHH! 58. ELIJAH I told you enough! CUT TO: EXT. ELIJAH'S HOUSE DAY Elijah shows Rick out the door. The Eyes scurry out and leap back into the sockets in the giant head. ELIJAH Bye-bye. And remember, try another escape, and I'll feed your balls to Toad. As he walks towards the Freak House, Rick pulls out the note he pocketed. A gust of wind blows it away from him. He chases it behind the carnival tent where... KKCCLIINNK! He runs into ELEVEN PHONY MILKMEN, backing their way around the corner, each carrying their own six-pack of milkbottles. Startled, they turn around. Why, it's the freaks! And they're all dressed as milkmen! Cowboy carries the hammer, who's dressed in a little milkman suit as well. BEARDED LADY Hey Rick, I thought you were gonna come up with your own escape plan? RICK (TO JUAN) This is your big plan? A dozen milkmen? Isn't that a little unusual? Juan hadn't thought of this. He pushes himself forward and confronts Rick viciously. JUAN Twelve milkmen is theoretically possible. Thirteen is silly. Looks like one milkman too many, Coogan. He pushes Rick aside. The freaks continue past him. RICK Fine then. Go ahead. Hope you like reggae, ya flea bitten bastard. Rick watches as the Freaks approach the open courtyard, where he knows the Eyeballs will spot them. 59. Julie glances at him a second, then looks away. His mind made up, Rick takes a deep breath. RICK Ah, shit. He runs over to the Freaks. He stands in Juan's way. RICK Look, you'll all be killed. You don't know about Elijah's giant Rasta eyeballs with machine guns... (they think he's nuts) It's suicide! I can't let you do it. JUAN And I can't let you stop us. This is it. Rick and Juan square off. Juan growls and bares his teeth. Rick's MONSTER EYE starts to glow and pulse dimly. They circle each other. The others are transfixed. ELIJAH'S POV He peers through a side window, and sees the pack of milkmen cheering two of their coworkers, locked in mortal combat. ELIJAH That's a lot of milkmen on the same route. No wonder they fight. Juan rears back, about to lunge, when suddenly he freezes and looks off into the distance. A SQUIRREL is sitting innocently a few yards off. JUAN Squirrel! He zooms off after the squirrel. The Eyes pop out of the giant head and follow after him, Uzis FIRING. Juan dodges their bullets and disappears after his prey. The freaks watch their best chance of freedom run off after a pesky rodent. They turn to Rick. NOSEY Wow, giant Rasta eyeballs, just like Rick said. SOCKHEAD Gosh, if it wasn't for Rick, we'd all be dead! 60. OTHER FREAKS Yeah! Way to go Rick! Alright! ERNIE (TO JULIE) God, I can't believe he left you for a squirrel. What a dick. Julie's hurt. She doesn't even smack Ernie. RICK You know how men are. Besides, it was a pretty good looking squirrel. Julie looks at Rick. She sees he's trying to be helpful, not sarcastic. JULIE (to the others) Come on. You heard the Beast Boy. Back to the Freak House, now. Her eyes meet Rick's. She manages a smile, and Rick smiles back. Ernie sizes up the situation and groans as they all head back to the Freak House. ERNIE Not again. (TO RICK) Oh well, at least we'll get to try a new position. CUT TO: INT. STARK INTERROGATION ROOM We're moving in towards a door in this desolate, vaguely corporate looking hallway. INSIDE THE ROOM We're looking at the back of Laughing Man's leather chair. We hear his CACKLE, as well as STUEY GLUCK'S TORTURED SCREAMS and a horrible POWER TOOL NOISE. We can see the usual bright interrogation spotlight, and a couple of extra GOONS watching the goings on, but Stuey and his actual torturer are hidden by Laughing Man's chair. STUEY (O.S.) AHHHHH! STOP IT! OOOWWWWW! We move past Mr. Big's chair to reveal Stuey lying face down on a table, while Bob Vila is using a power sander on his butt. Bob is happily giving pointers to the two goons. 61. BOB Notice the way I use an elliptical motion to chafe Stuey's buttocks. (the Goons nod ATTENTIVELY) It's all here in my new book: Pipes, Fixtures, and Torturing TROLLS-- LAUGHING MAN(O.S.) (Loud, sharp laugh) A-HA-HA-HAHA-HA-HA-HA! Bob obediently shuts up. Laughing Man directs a sinister low chuckle to Stuey. STUEY No way. I'll never talk! I'm made of stone! Bob considers this a second, then starts up a jackhammer. STUEY HELP! RICK! RIIIIIIIIIICCKKK! CUT TO: INT. FREAK HOUSE - DAY We hear LONESOME HARMONICA MUSIC as we pan past the cubicles. Cowboy is playing the harmonica... The Bearded Lady unties the pretty pink ribbon in his hair and sets it aside... Suddenly, we switch to HORRIFIC PSYCHO STINGS as the camera picks up PAUL LYNDE'S CORPSE with flashing red lights. His eyeball drips out of the socket again... Then it's back to the SAD HARMONICA MUSIC. In the next cubicle, Ernie is sleeping, Julie is awake, dreamily fondling a large eclair. She looks longingly up towards Rick's cubicle as we... DREAM DISSOLVE TO: DREAMLAND Rick (his face is normal) and Julie kiss passionately in a billowy white bed amidst puffy clouds. 62. RICK (SINCERE) Julie, compared to this, sex with Julia Roberts was a thankless chore. QUICK DISSOLVE BACK TO: JULIE' We follow her gaze, panning up to Rick. He's lying on his bed, dreamily fondling a donut. He looks down towards Julie's cabin... DREAM DISSOLVE TO: DREAMLAND Rick and Julie kiss passionately. We're tight on them. JULIE Oh Rick, you've touched a place in me no one has ever touched before. ERNIE(O.S.) I'll say! Almost punctured a kidney! WIDEN to show Ernie, still attached to Julie, leering at Rick. Rick is mortified. QUICK DREAM DISSOLVE TO: INT. FREAK HOUSE - DAY Rick sits in his cubicle, visibly sickened by his daydream. Stuey's echoey voice drifts in. STUEY(V.0.) Rick! Riiiicccck! A holographic image of Stuey lying on the torture table appears over Rick. We can see the jackhammer looming over Stuey's face. Rick looks alarmed. STUEY HOLOGRAM Rick! Do something! It's up to you, Rick! Pleeeeeeease! LAUGHING MAN (O.S) Aha-hee-hee-ho-ho-har-har-har! 63. RICK The Laughing Man! Rick watches the hologram break up and disappear. Wheels spinning in his head, he takes the crumpled piece of paper out of his pocket and reads it. RICK (under his breath) Holy shit! JULIE/ERNIE'S CUBICLE Julie and Ernie are struggling over a bottle of deodorant. ERNIE It says it's strong enough for a man! JULIE But it's made for a woman! She grabs it away and shoves it in Ernie's mouth. Rick walks in. JULIE Hey Rick. What's up? RICK Read this. I grabbed it from Skuggs' office. He hands her the notepaper. She reads it, with some difficulty. Ernie is still gagging on deodorant. JULIE "Tape Donahue... Renew Subscription to Beaver World..." Eeuw! She gives Rick a disgusted look. Ernie mumbles with the deodorant in his mouth. ERNIE (interested, muffled) Beaver World!? Julie smacks him--he swallows the deodorant. RICK (TO JULIE) After that. 64. JULIE "Prepare demonstration for Laughing Man, receive five thousand barrels of Noxon." Five thousand barrels!? RICK Elijah's up to something big, and we have to stop him. Ernie BELCHES. Rick sniffs the air. RICK Mmmm. Jasmine. SWISH PAN TO: INT. FREAK HOUSE - DAY Rick takes a deep breath, and begins his presentation to the freaks assembled before him. RICK Alright guys, listen up-- Sockhead suddenly freaks out. SOCKHEAD We're done for! We're done for! I don't want to die! It's the end of the world! The apocalypse! Aahh! He stops. Everyone is staring at him. RICK I haven't said anything yet. SOCKHEAD Sorry. I'm not much for timing. He takes his seat again. RICK (TO EVERYONE) Tomorrow night, at the show, I'll be turned into a homicidal monster and forced to kill you all. But we might have a chance if we act fast. And I'm prepared to be your new leader. A THRILLING CHORD. 65. NOSEY (TO SOCKHEAD) I say we kill him. Sockhead nods. RICK And I've got a plan. ANOTHER THRILLING CHORD. NOSEY I still say we kill him. Sockhead nods again. RICK If we can get into Elijah's lab, maybe we can-- WORM Of course! Design a super freak of our own and manipulate the genetic code to make him destroy Elijah instead of us! Brilliant! RICK Oh. Well-- BEARDED LADY But how do we get to the lab? RICK Um, maybe-- COWBOY Right! The worm could dig a tunnel! WORM By God, it's so crazy it might just work! ERNIE But you need Noxon 24 to make the freaking sludge, and Elijah told us himself he's run out of it. RICK Oh. Oh yeah. Well, see, what I was going to say was-- 66. JULIE Yes! Exactly! If they've been using Noxon 24 as a fertilizer here, the entire ecosystem must be soaked with it! All we need is a way to extract it from the vegetation, ideally into a liquid form. RICK Right. Well, what about-- COWBOY Golly! So that's why my milk comes out that funny green color! I thought the grass tasted funny! Wow, Rick, you're a genius! JULIE (SMILES WARMLY) Good thinking, Rick. The freaks all nod in agreement. NOSEY Way to go, Rick! How did you ever think of such a plan? Rick pulls out an old comic book and points to an ad for Sea Monkeys. RICK Well, actually, I was going to suggest we send away for sea monkeys, train them to fire guns, and make a break for it. But if you want to go with this other thing, I guess that's okay. The freaks stare at him, not sure if he's kidding or not. CUT TO: INT. FREAK HOUSE - NIGHT FREAKS ON A MISSION MONTAGE, SET TO A POUNDING "EYE OF THE TIGER"-TYPE SONG -Nosey milks Cowboy, squirting the glowing milk into a funnel which feeds into a crude still. The Torch heats the boiler. -The Worm digs the tunnel. JulieErnie hand Rick pieces of wood which he puts into place as tunnel supports. They hand him Paul Lynde's corpse and he wedges it in as well. 67. -Everyone's getting into it and working up a sweat. Nosey wipes his brow, opens a bottle of Pepsi and chugs it down in a beautifully lit slo-mo product shot... The other freaks follow suit, including the Worm, down in the tunnel, who struggles to hold the bottle in his tiny feeler. Everything's going great and the song is really pumping when... ELIJAH runs out on his front porch in his nightclothes and screams down at the outhouse. ELIJAH WOULD YOU TURN DOWN THAT GODDAMN RACKET!? IN THE FREAK HOUSE Nosey turns off a boom box and the music cuts short. The freaks exchange tense looks. Nosey calls out apologetically to Elijah. NOSEY SOR-RY. (to the freaks) What a jerk! INT. UNDERGROUND TUNNEL The Worm burrows along, leaving a tunnel wide enough for Rick and JulieErnie to crawl after him. Rick notices a ray of light coming through a rock formation. RICK Hey, look at this! They all stop and look. Rick fingers the hole, and the rocks cave in, revealing A VAST UNDERGROUND CITY It's obviously a matte painting. WORM Good Lord! It's the Lost City of Nodd! JULIE Wow! 68. KER-CHUNK! We hear the sound of a slide projector switching slides and the underground city is replaced by a still image of some tourists standing around a geyser. [foriegn version: the Blarney Stone]. RICK It's Old Faithful! (foriegn take: "It's the Blarney Stone!"] They "Ooh" and "Ahh". The image switches to a snapshot of a FAT MIDDLE-AGED WOMAN. ERNIE It's my Aunt Gladys! The other freaks nod politely. The image switches to a BAR MITZVAH PHOTO. ERNIE And that's me at my bar mitzvah! RICK C'mon Ernie, let's go. ERNIE Wait, you gotta see the ones from sleep-away camp! They're hilarious! Julie smacks him. JULIE Stooge! EXT. FREAK COMPOUND - NIGHT It's an "Antfarm View" of the yard, where the freaks are visible tunneling underground, and Toad is visible on the yard above them. We see a bat fly overhead... ZAP! Toad shoots out his tongue, snags it out of mid air, and chews it happily, oblivious to the freaks burrowing right underneath him. INT. FREAK HOUSE Nosey looks at the nearly full container of distilled Noxon. NOSEY Almost there. (he sniffs the air) But wait, I'm getting a whiff of things to come! 69. BEARDED LADY What do you smell? NOSEY (GRIM) Blood. Bearded Lady looks grave..Nosey sniffs again. NOSEY (CHEERFUL) And hot buttered popcorn! BEARDED LADY Awwright! INT. TUNNEL They're burrowing along. Ernie loudly clears his throat. Julie spits out a loogie. She grimaces. JULIE I hate when you do that. We hear muffled BARKING. ERNIE Hey! Do you hear that? JULIE It's a dog! RICK (TO WORM) Hurry! The Worm breaks through into a small cavern with several exposed sewer pipes. A lovable mutt leaps out of a pipe and drops an old tennis ball in front of Rick. He starts licking Rick's face. RICK Scrappy! SAPPY MUSIC wells up. RICK It's been ten years since you chased this ball into the sewer! I thought you were gone for good! SCRAPPY Yap! 70. RICK Listen Scrap. Go home. Get help. Understand? SCRAPPY Yap! RICK Good boy! Now go! Scrappy runs away into the sewer pipe. Rick shrugs. RICK You never know. Julie taps on some exposed wood on the cavern ceiling. JULIE Look, a wood floor. WORM It must be the lab! we've done it! They all look at each other excitedly. Suddenly Elijah's voice rings out behind them. ELIJAH'S VOICE Not so fast, you scabrous freaks! They spin around and see Nosey holding the bottle of Noxon 24. He grins. NOSEY Didn't know I did impressions, did ya? INT. FREAK HOUSE The freaks are waiting around the hole. Nosey pops out. NOSEY Mission accomplished. They've got the Noxon, and they'll be in the lab within minutes. FROGMAN Boy, this is going like clockwork! Everyone smiles, pats each other on the back, etc. Except Sockhead, who finally snaps. SOCKHEAD No! Can't you see we're digging our own graves!? (MORE) 71. It's nuts, SOCKHEAD(cont'd) that's what it is! Nuts! Well, maybe you've all got a deathwish, but you can count me out! I'M GETTING THE HELL OUT OF HERE! He runs amok, pushes various freaks to the ground, and runs around screaming. The freak house door opens--Eye and Eye step in to check out the noise. One of them has a spliff sticking out of its pupil. Sockhead charges at them like a mad dog. They aim their Uzis. SOCKHEAD (at the Eyes) OUT OF MY WAY! RATTA-RATTA-RATTA! They spray an ungodly amount of bullets into Sockhead. He falls to the ground. The Eyes leave. The freaks gather around Sockhead. Nosey pulls the sock off his hand head, which is making a little "Senor Pepe" face with its fist. It spits up a trickle of blood and tries to speak. SOCKHEAD (WEAK) I... I... just... wanna...say... NOSEY What is it, kid? SOCKHEAD Ah, forget it. I'm not much for dying. He goes limp. CUT TO: INT. ELIJAH'S LAB JulieErnie, the Worm, and Rick are just emerging from the hole. It's really dark in the lab. ERNIE Shit. I can't see a damn thing. RICK Keep your voice down, Ernie. ERNIE Don't push me, Coog. I got a real short fuse today. I'm cranky, bloated, got a wicked case of cramps. Don't ask why. 72. JULIE (whispers to Rick) PMS... RICK (has to think about this) Oh.... Right. Rick pats Ernie on the shoulder reassuringly. He moves over to Elijah's computer terminal. RICK (CONT'D) Well, here it is--the control panel for Elijah's Freaking process. WORM Good work, my boy. Now step aside. This is scientist's work. Worm muscles Rick out of the way and sits at the console. Using a pen held in his mouth, he flicks a series of switches and punches a fast series of computer keys. The light on top of the Tasty Freekz machine starts to revolve, and after a couple of seconds, a stream of GOOEY LIGHT BROWN GLOP oozes out of the spigot. ERNIE Hey! It's working! RICK You did it, Worm! Way to go! JULIE But how? You didn't even use the Noxon. The Worm rushes over to the container of glop below the spigot, and without hesitation, plunges his face into it! Rick, Julie, and Ernie gasp in horror! The WORM lifts his glop-smeared face out of the bowl, and smacks his

bows

How many times the word 'bows' appears in the text?

{I'M UGLY} Into this breathing world, scarse half made up, {I'M REALLY UGLY} And that so lamely and unfashionable, That dogs bark at me as I halt by them. {I'M F KIN' BUTT-UGLY, ALRIGHT!?} Why I, in this weak piping time of peace, {BLAH, BLAH, BLAH} Have no delight to pass away the time, {I NEVER GET LAID...} Unless to see my shadow in the sun, And descant on mine own deformity! {BECAUSE I'M UGLY} Rick bows. The crowd bursts into applause. They yell "Bravo" and throw bouquets. Rick takes several curtain calls. The freaks cheer for him. Julie is particularly moved--she and Rick exchange a heavy look, laden with romantic potential. NOTE: We will insert an almost subliminal one-frame shot of the Pepsi logo at this triumphant moment. Kevin, the EES executive from the airport scene, walks into the tent. Rick sees him and gasps with joy. He leaps off the stage, runs up to Kevin and hugs him. Kevin is shocked, of course. Overcome by the moment, Rick regresses to his old self. RICK I'm saved! Haha! You sorry mutants are gonna rot in this hole while I'm sipping mint juleps by the pool! {AS FORTUNE SMILES O'ER MY FATE, SO DESTINY SPURNS YOUR ACCURSE'D PATE} The freaks and the audience gasp at Rick's cruelty. Julie is shocked--Juan gives her an "I told you so" look. Rick sees Julie and catches himself. 49. RICK (TO KEVIN) I mean, um, I hope you have room for all my friends, heh-heh. KEVIN Rick, Rick, listen, I really love this new look you've come up with. But just between you and me, I don't think the guys upstairs would really get it. RICK What are you saying!? KEVIN (CHUCKLES SNIDELY) I'm saying you're ugly enough to burn the nosehairs off a dead nun. The crowd bursts into cruel hysterics, pointing mockingly at Rick. Even Alistair Cooke is practically choking with laughter. ALISTAIR COOKE AH-HA-HA-HA! WHAT A PUTZ! Rick looks around, horrified at the sea of evil, jeering faces. He begins to tremble. Then... RICK'S MONSTER EYE springs to life for the first time and glows red with rage. His whole monster side awakens and takes charge of his body with violent intensity. He grabs Kevin's head and screams in a new, monstrous voice. RICK EAT SHIT! POP! He plucks Kevin's head off his neck and holds it aloft. The head stares down at Rick in disbelief. KEVIN'S HEAD Now you're just being childish. Rick serves the head like a volleyball, smashing it to bits. The crowd panics and charges for the exits. CROWD AHHHHHH! HELP! LET US OUT OF HERE! People are trampling over each other in the mayhem. Alistair Cooke is crushed under the stampede. 50. The freaks are horrified. Monster Rick growls triumphantly. Elijah looks on, intrigued. ELIJAH Now that's entertainment. INT. FREAK HOUSE - MORNING Rick awakens with a start and gets up. He approaches JulieErnie, The Bearded Lady, Nosey and Dog Boy, who are idly playing a game of "Wheel of Fortune." The cubicles contain large blank blocks, like the "letters" on the game show. So far, there's a "D", two "S"s, and a "K" revealed. Rosie the Pinhead plays Vanna White's role. NOSEY I'd like to buy a vowel. The Bearded lady yawns. Rick edges towards them. RICK Hey. The Wheel. Mind if I sit in? Juan advances towards Rick, sneering. JUAN So. Now you don't mind mixing with us--how did you say it--sorry mutants? RICK Look! I'm sorry for what happened at the show. Can't you just forget it? He shakes his finger at Juan, and notices there's still a human nose stuck on his monster claw. He wipes it off, embarrassed. There's an awkward pause. Ernie breaks the silence. ERNIE Hey, shouldn't you tell Rick about your big escape plan? Juan gives Ernie a nasty "shut up" look. He growls at him. ERNIE Well, excuse me for living. RICK You have an escape plan? JUAN Listen, Beast Boy, the games are a simple diversion. (MORE) 51. JUAN(CONT'D) Beneath our twisted flesh we freaks cry out for freedom! Aooooooorrraaaagh! Juan howls lustily. He looks to rest of the freaks. They're a pathetic lot, and their half-hearted howl proves it. FREAKS Aoo... Beat. JULIE Juan's plan is really ingenious Rick. See, he figured out that-- JUAN I figured out that our escape does not include the Beast Boy. No one may discuss the plan with him, understand? Juan gives the others a threatening look. They mumble agreement. RICK What's the matter with all of you? You trust your lives to a guy just 'cause he can lick his own privates? The freaks ponder this a second, then nod "yes". ERNIE You gotta admit, Coog, it's a helluva trick. RICK (RESENTFUL) Fine! I'll just come up with an escape plan of my own then. JUAN Haha! I have spent a year studying this hellhole, devising the perfect escape. You think you'll just tango right out the door!? Ha! Just try it, amigo. RICK I will! Rick turns to go. JulieErnie rush over and try to reason with him quietly. 52. JULIE Rick, wait. ERNIE Yeah. Don't go off half-cocked. Believe me, it ain't all it's cracked up to be. JULIE This isn't one of your dumb movies, Coogan. Look, Juan's a good dog, a smart dog. I'll talk to him. Don't be stupid, Rick. You can't do it without us. RICK Forget it! I don't need you, EES, or anybody else! I'll get out of here all by myself, you... you.,. crud sucking pus monkeys! DING DING DING! The letters in the Wheel of Fortune board light up, and ROSIE turns them over to reveal "Crud Sucking Pus Monkeys" as the secret phrase. Everyone claps despite themselves. Juan stares them down. They stop. Rick storms off in a huff. Juan takes Julie's hand and gazes deep into her eyes. He kisses her passionately. Julie is watching Rick leave. Juan nibbles her neck, which gets her attention. She scratches Juan behind his ear. His leg instinctively kicks the air. Ernie looks worried. ERNIE I'm getting a bad feeling here. CUT TO: INT. REAR CORNER OF FREAK HOUSE - DAY Out of sight from the others, Rick approaches the rear door and tries it. It doesn't open from the inside. RICK Damn. He peers out through a crack in the door and sees a MILKMAN getting out of his truck in the driveway. RICK (TO MILKMAN) Psst! Hey, you. Milkman! 53. OUTSIDE The milkman looks over at the outhouse, suspicious. MILKMAN Yeah... ? RICK (V.0.) Just the man I'm lookinq for. Be a pal, and give me a hand will ya? MILKMAN Oooh no! I know you freaks. You'll try anything just to get someone to open that door. Well not me! Ha! He's about to walk away. RICK Okay. Guess I'll just have to milk the world's biggest breasted woman all by myself. Sorry to bother you. The milkman stops in his tracks. He tiptoes over to the back door of the outhouse, listening intently as Rick goes into his "act." RICK (in a lusty womanish VOICE) Ooohh... Milk me! Milk me now! Milk me hard! (Normal Rick voice) I've only got two hands, all right? Geez. I don't care if Elijah did give you skim milk on the right side, chocolate on the left, and eggnog in the middle. The milkman is salivating at the door. MILKMAN (TO HIMSELF) Gee, I love eggnog! The milkman opens the door eagerly and steps inside. Beat. MILKMAN Hey, what the-- BONK. We hear the sound of bottled buttermilk beaning his soft noggin. Rick walks out wearing the milkman outfit complete with the little six-milk-bottle-carrier thing. 54. He looks around and heads for the milk truck, whistling casually. He notices something. It's ... THE GIANT ELIJAH HEAD Its big eyes are staring at Rick (note: there's a skywriter plane in the distance behind the head, which finishes writing "YOU GOT THE RIGHT ONE BABY: PEPSI") Rick gets to the truck and tries the door. It's locked. RICK Shit. He looks over at the giant head. The eyes are still staring at him--they seem to have shifted. Rick shrugs it off and looks around. He walks over to Elijah's car. It's locked too. He checks the big eyes. They've moved again. Rick's getting a bit desperate. He sees something else and runs towards it. It's a dry-docked motorboat. It's locked too. The eyes have followed Rick again. He sees something else and runs over to it. It's a bag of golf clubs leaning against Elijah's porch. They're locked too. RICK Damn! This guy doesn't trust anybody! He looks at the giant head- the eyes are gone, leaving only empty eyesockets! Rick hears A BURST OF MACHINEGUN FIRE behind him, spins around and faces ... TWO THREE FOOT HIGH EYEBALLS with little arms and legs, wearing Jamaican Rasta hats and aiming smoking Uzi 9mms in the air. They aim their Uzis at Rick. One holds a walkie-talkie, the other holds a big spliff. RICK AHHHH! A T.V. MONITOR in Elijah's hands, shows Rick staring at us, the Eye's POV. ELIJAH seen in extreme close-up, watches the surveillance monitor. He speaks into a microphone. We don't see what the room looks like. ELIJAH Good work, Eye and Eye. 55. THE EYES bob in response to Elijah. They have no mouths, but their pupils open and close when they speak. EYE AND EYE (JAMAICAN ACCENTS) Rastafari. ELIJAH (V.0.) (over the walkie-talkie) Now bring the Beast Boy to my, uh, den. Ha-ha-ha-ha! Rick looks worried as they lead him towards the scary looking house. INT. ELIJAH'S DEN It's a lovely, suburban den with a coffee table full of magazines like "Better Homes and Gardens," "National Review" and "Freaks Illustrated". Elijah sits in a big Barcalounger, smoking a pipe. Rick sits on the sofa. Toad walks up with a tray of soft drinks. ELIJAH (TO RICK) Diet soda? RICK No thanks. Elijah points to a bowl of Fiddle Faddle. Toad sits beside Rick. ELIJAH Fiddle Faddle? (Rick shakes his head) You sure? RICK Well, okay. (he scoops some into his MOUTH) Well, are you gonna torture me or kill me or something? ELIJAH Torture my greatest creation ever!? Kill the final piece of the puzzle that I've been putting together for years!? Sure, it'd be fun, but I've got a bigger plan, my boy. (MORE) 56. ELIJAH(CONT'D) And when you ripped off that guy's head, I knew it was working like gangbusters! RICK But I thought I scared everyone away. ELIJAH Uh-huh. And then they told two friends, and they told two friends, and so on, and so on. Look at this. Elijah grabs a big mail bag and spills some letters out on the table. Elijah opens one and reads it. ELIJAH (READING) Dear Mister Skuggs, I was shocked and disgusted when my grandson told me about the head-popping beast at your show. Please send me six tickets. (he reads another) Dear Beast Boy, I used to like New Kids on The Block, but you're way cuter. My favorite ice cream is chocolate. Is it fun ripping people's heads off? I love you. (ANOTHER LETTER) The Beast Boy is on a blood-letting spree, and Oscar is along for the ride! (he looks up at Rick) That one's from Pat Collins! RICK Yeah, but she loves everything. Rick reaches for the Fiddle Faddle but the bowl is empty. Toad BURPS. ELIJAH Toad! That Fiddle Faddle is for guests only! You've had enough! Toad is blankfaced. Elijah walks over and refills the bowl. Rick scoops some into his mouth. Elijah walks to the fireplace and pushes the embers around with a poker. RICK Look Skuggs--Elijah--I've been in show business all my life. The public does not want to see disgusting, depraved violent filth. 57. ELIJAH Oh, and I suppose Jake and the Fatman is just a fluke? The phone rings. Elijah looks at it, and back to Rick. ELIJAH (CONT'D) I'll get it. He goes over to the phone and lifts the receiver. ELIJAH `Yello? On the other end of the line, we hear LAUGHING MAN's insane chuckle. Elijah's smooth smile fades. He turns his back to- Rick, who strains to identify the familiar laughing voice. Elijah scribbles notes on a pad by the phone. ELIJAH Yes... Right... Tomorrow... Mmhmm... Mnunhmm... Wow. Okay. You got it... Hasta la vista to you too. Hahaahahaahaha-- Laughing Man hangs up on Elijah. He looks a little pissed- off as he turns to face Rick again. Grumbling, he takes the poker in hand, and pokes at the coals angrily. ELIJAH Okay, Coogan. I'm finished with you for now. Ricky rises and snatches the notepad just before Elijah spins to face him. ELIJAH (CONT'D) But listen. I may not be "Mr. Tinseltown", but I damn well know what I like. You're gonna be a hideous killing machine, and that's final! Tomorrow night I'll finish the job onstage! And then, to demonstrate your horrible power, you'll slaughter all the old obsolete freaks in cold bl--HEY! Elijah thrusts the red hot fire poker out and ZAP! He catches Toad's ten foot tongue--curled around the searing poker inches from the Fiddle Faddle. TOAD AAAGGGGHH! 58. ELIJAH I told you enough! CUT TO: EXT. ELIJAH'S HOUSE DAY Elijah shows Rick out the door. The Eyes scurry out and leap back into the sockets in the giant head. ELIJAH Bye-bye. And remember, try another escape, and I'll feed your balls to Toad. As he walks towards the Freak House, Rick pulls out the note he pocketed. A gust of wind blows it away from him. He chases it behind the carnival tent where... KKCCLIINNK! He runs into ELEVEN PHONY MILKMEN, backing their way around the corner, each carrying their own six-pack of milkbottles. Startled, they turn around. Why, it's the freaks! And they're all dressed as milkmen! Cowboy carries the hammer, who's dressed in a little milkman suit as well. BEARDED LADY Hey Rick, I thought you were gonna come up with your own escape plan? RICK (TO JUAN) This is your big plan? A dozen milkmen? Isn't that a little unusual? Juan hadn't thought of this. He pushes himself forward and confronts Rick viciously. JUAN Twelve milkmen is theoretically possible. Thirteen is silly. Looks like one milkman too many, Coogan. He pushes Rick aside. The freaks continue past him. RICK Fine then. Go ahead. Hope you like reggae, ya flea bitten bastard. Rick watches as the Freaks approach the open courtyard, where he knows the Eyeballs will spot them. 59. Julie glances at him a second, then looks away. His mind made up, Rick takes a deep breath. RICK Ah, shit. He runs over to the Freaks. He stands in Juan's way. RICK Look, you'll all be killed. You don't know about Elijah's giant Rasta eyeballs with machine guns... (they think he's nuts) It's suicide! I can't let you do it. JUAN And I can't let you stop us. This is it. Rick and Juan square off. Juan growls and bares his teeth. Rick's MONSTER EYE starts to glow and pulse dimly. They circle each other. The others are transfixed. ELIJAH'S POV He peers through a side window, and sees the pack of milkmen cheering two of their coworkers, locked in mortal combat. ELIJAH That's a lot of milkmen on the same route. No wonder they fight. Juan rears back, about to lunge, when suddenly he freezes and looks off into the distance. A SQUIRREL is sitting innocently a few yards off. JUAN Squirrel! He zooms off after the squirrel. The Eyes pop out of the giant head and follow after him, Uzis FIRING. Juan dodges their bullets and disappears after his prey. The freaks watch their best chance of freedom run off after a pesky rodent. They turn to Rick. NOSEY Wow, giant Rasta eyeballs, just like Rick said. SOCKHEAD Gosh, if it wasn't for Rick, we'd all be dead! 60. OTHER FREAKS Yeah! Way to go Rick! Alright! ERNIE (TO JULIE) God, I can't believe he left you for a squirrel. What a dick. Julie's hurt. She doesn't even smack Ernie. RICK You know how men are. Besides, it was a pretty good looking squirrel. Julie looks at Rick. She sees he's trying to be helpful, not sarcastic. JULIE (to the others) Come on. You heard the Beast Boy. Back to the Freak House, now. Her eyes meet Rick's. She manages a smile, and Rick smiles back. Ernie sizes up the situation and groans as they all head back to the Freak House. ERNIE Not again. (TO RICK) Oh well, at least we'll get to try a new position. CUT TO: INT. STARK INTERROGATION ROOM We're moving in towards a door in this desolate, vaguely corporate looking hallway. INSIDE THE ROOM We're looking at the back of Laughing Man's leather chair. We hear his CACKLE, as well as STUEY GLUCK'S TORTURED SCREAMS and a horrible POWER TOOL NOISE. We can see the usual bright interrogation spotlight, and a couple of extra GOONS watching the goings on, but Stuey and his actual torturer are hidden by Laughing Man's chair. STUEY (O.S.) AHHHHH! STOP IT! OOOWWWWW! We move past Mr. Big's chair to reveal Stuey lying face down on a table, while Bob Vila is using a power sander on his butt. Bob is happily giving pointers to the two goons. 61. BOB Notice the way I use an elliptical motion to chafe Stuey's buttocks. (the Goons nod ATTENTIVELY) It's all here in my new book: Pipes, Fixtures, and Torturing TROLLS-- LAUGHING MAN(O.S.) (Loud, sharp laugh) A-HA-HA-HAHA-HA-HA-HA! Bob obediently shuts up. Laughing Man directs a sinister low chuckle to Stuey. STUEY No way. I'll never talk! I'm made of stone! Bob considers this a second, then starts up a jackhammer. STUEY HELP! RICK! RIIIIIIIIIICCKKK! CUT TO: INT. FREAK HOUSE - DAY We hear LONESOME HARMONICA MUSIC as we pan past the cubicles. Cowboy is playing the harmonica... The Bearded Lady unties the pretty pink ribbon in his hair and sets it aside... Suddenly, we switch to HORRIFIC PSYCHO STINGS as the camera picks up PAUL LYNDE'S CORPSE with flashing red lights. His eyeball drips out of the socket again... Then it's back to the SAD HARMONICA MUSIC. In the next cubicle, Ernie is sleeping, Julie is awake, dreamily fondling a large eclair. She looks longingly up towards Rick's cubicle as we... DREAM DISSOLVE TO: DREAMLAND Rick (his face is normal) and Julie kiss passionately in a billowy white bed amidst puffy clouds. 62. RICK (SINCERE) Julie, compared to this, sex with Julia Roberts was a thankless chore. QUICK DISSOLVE BACK TO: JULIE' We follow her gaze, panning up to Rick. He's lying on his bed, dreamily fondling a donut. He looks down towards Julie's cabin... DREAM DISSOLVE TO: DREAMLAND Rick and Julie kiss passionately. We're tight on them. JULIE Oh Rick, you've touched a place in me no one has ever touched before. ERNIE(O.S.) I'll say! Almost punctured a kidney! WIDEN to show Ernie, still attached to Julie, leering at Rick. Rick is mortified. QUICK DREAM DISSOLVE TO: INT. FREAK HOUSE - DAY Rick sits in his cubicle, visibly sickened by his daydream. Stuey's echoey voice drifts in. STUEY(V.0.) Rick! Riiiicccck! A holographic image of Stuey lying on the torture table appears over Rick. We can see the jackhammer looming over Stuey's face. Rick looks alarmed. STUEY HOLOGRAM Rick! Do something! It's up to you, Rick! Pleeeeeeease! LAUGHING MAN (O.S) Aha-hee-hee-ho-ho-har-har-har! 63. RICK The Laughing Man! Rick watches the hologram break up and disappear. Wheels spinning in his head, he takes the crumpled piece of paper out of his pocket and reads it. RICK (under his breath) Holy shit! JULIE/ERNIE'S CUBICLE Julie and Ernie are struggling over a bottle of deodorant. ERNIE It says it's strong enough for a man! JULIE But it's made for a woman! She grabs it away and shoves it in Ernie's mouth. Rick walks in. JULIE Hey Rick. What's up? RICK Read this. I grabbed it from Skuggs' office. He hands her the notepaper. She reads it, with some difficulty. Ernie is still gagging on deodorant. JULIE "Tape Donahue... Renew Subscription to Beaver World..." Eeuw! She gives Rick a disgusted look. Ernie mumbles with the deodorant in his mouth. ERNIE (interested, muffled) Beaver World!? Julie smacks him--he swallows the deodorant. RICK (TO JULIE) After that. 64. JULIE "Prepare demonstration for Laughing Man, receive five thousand barrels of Noxon." Five thousand barrels!? RICK Elijah's up to something big, and we have to stop him. Ernie BELCHES. Rick sniffs the air. RICK Mmmm. Jasmine. SWISH PAN TO: INT. FREAK HOUSE - DAY Rick takes a deep breath, and begins his presentation to the freaks assembled before him. RICK Alright guys, listen up-- Sockhead suddenly freaks out. SOCKHEAD We're done for! We're done for! I don't want to die! It's the end of the world! The apocalypse! Aahh! He stops. Everyone is staring at him. RICK I haven't said anything yet. SOCKHEAD Sorry. I'm not much for timing. He takes his seat again. RICK (TO EVERYONE) Tomorrow night, at the show, I'll be turned into a homicidal monster and forced to kill you all. But we might have a chance if we act fast. And I'm prepared to be your new leader. A THRILLING CHORD. 65. NOSEY (TO SOCKHEAD) I say we kill him. Sockhead nods. RICK And I've got a plan. ANOTHER THRILLING CHORD. NOSEY I still say we kill him. Sockhead nods again. RICK If we can get into Elijah's lab, maybe we can-- WORM Of course! Design a super freak of our own and manipulate the genetic code to make him destroy Elijah instead of us! Brilliant! RICK Oh. Well-- BEARDED LADY But how do we get to the lab? RICK Um, maybe-- COWBOY Right! The worm could dig a tunnel! WORM By God, it's so crazy it might just work! ERNIE But you need Noxon 24 to make the freaking sludge, and Elijah told us himself he's run out of it. RICK Oh. Oh yeah. Well, see, what I was going to say was-- 66. JULIE Yes! Exactly! If they've been using Noxon 24 as a fertilizer here, the entire ecosystem must be soaked with it! All we need is a way to extract it from the vegetation, ideally into a liquid form. RICK Right. Well, what about-- COWBOY Golly! So that's why my milk comes out that funny green color! I thought the grass tasted funny! Wow, Rick, you're a genius! JULIE (SMILES WARMLY) Good thinking, Rick. The freaks all nod in agreement. NOSEY Way to go, Rick! How did you ever think of such a plan? Rick pulls out an old comic book and points to an ad for Sea Monkeys. RICK Well, actually, I was going to suggest we send away for sea monkeys, train them to fire guns, and make a break for it. But if you want to go with this other thing, I guess that's okay. The freaks stare at him, not sure if he's kidding or not. CUT TO: INT. FREAK HOUSE - NIGHT FREAKS ON A MISSION MONTAGE, SET TO A POUNDING "EYE OF THE TIGER"-TYPE SONG -Nosey milks Cowboy, squirting the glowing milk into a funnel which feeds into a crude still. The Torch heats the boiler. -The Worm digs the tunnel. JulieErnie hand Rick pieces of wood which he puts into place as tunnel supports. They hand him Paul Lynde's corpse and he wedges it in as well. 67. -Everyone's getting into it and working up a sweat. Nosey wipes his brow, opens a bottle of Pepsi and chugs it down in a beautifully lit slo-mo product shot... The other freaks follow suit, including the Worm, down in the tunnel, who struggles to hold the bottle in his tiny feeler. Everything's going great and the song is really pumping when... ELIJAH runs out on his front porch in his nightclothes and screams down at the outhouse. ELIJAH WOULD YOU TURN DOWN THAT GODDAMN RACKET!? IN THE FREAK HOUSE Nosey turns off a boom box and the music cuts short. The freaks exchange tense looks. Nosey calls out apologetically to Elijah. NOSEY SOR-RY. (to the freaks) What a jerk! INT. UNDERGROUND TUNNEL The Worm burrows along, leaving a tunnel wide enough for Rick and JulieErnie to crawl after him. Rick notices a ray of light coming through a rock formation. RICK Hey, look at this! They all stop and look. Rick fingers the hole, and the rocks cave in, revealing A VAST UNDERGROUND CITY It's obviously a matte painting. WORM Good Lord! It's the Lost City of Nodd! JULIE Wow! 68. KER-CHUNK! We hear the sound of a slide projector switching slides and the underground city is replaced by a still image of some tourists standing around a geyser. [foriegn version: the Blarney Stone]. RICK It's Old Faithful! (foriegn take: "It's the Blarney Stone!"] They "Ooh" and "Ahh". The image switches to a snapshot of a FAT MIDDLE-AGED WOMAN. ERNIE It's my Aunt Gladys! The other freaks nod politely. The image switches to a BAR MITZVAH PHOTO. ERNIE And that's me at my bar mitzvah! RICK C'mon Ernie, let's go. ERNIE Wait, you gotta see the ones from sleep-away camp! They're hilarious! Julie smacks him. JULIE Stooge! EXT. FREAK COMPOUND - NIGHT It's an "Antfarm View" of the yard, where the freaks are visible tunneling underground, and Toad is visible on the yard above them. We see a bat fly overhead... ZAP! Toad shoots out his tongue, snags it out of mid air, and chews it happily, oblivious to the freaks burrowing right underneath him. INT. FREAK HOUSE Nosey looks at the nearly full container of distilled Noxon. NOSEY Almost there. (he sniffs the air) But wait, I'm getting a whiff of things to come! 69. BEARDED LADY What do you smell? NOSEY (GRIM) Blood. Bearded Lady looks grave..Nosey sniffs again. NOSEY (CHEERFUL) And hot buttered popcorn! BEARDED LADY Awwright! INT. TUNNEL They're burrowing along. Ernie loudly clears his throat. Julie spits out a loogie. She grimaces. JULIE I hate when you do that. We hear muffled BARKING. ERNIE Hey! Do you hear that? JULIE It's a dog! RICK (TO WORM) Hurry! The Worm breaks through into a small cavern with several exposed sewer pipes. A lovable mutt leaps out of a pipe and drops an old tennis ball in front of Rick. He starts licking Rick's face. RICK Scrappy! SAPPY MUSIC wells up. RICK It's been ten years since you chased this ball into the sewer! I thought you were gone for good! SCRAPPY Yap! 70. RICK Listen Scrap. Go home. Get help. Understand? SCRAPPY Yap! RICK Good boy! Now go! Scrappy runs away into the sewer pipe. Rick shrugs. RICK You never know. Julie taps on some exposed wood on the cavern ceiling. JULIE Look, a wood floor. WORM It must be the lab! we've done it! They all look at each other excitedly. Suddenly Elijah's voice rings out behind them. ELIJAH'S VOICE Not so fast, you scabrous freaks! They spin around and see Nosey holding the bottle of Noxon 24. He grins. NOSEY Didn't know I did impressions, did ya? INT. FREAK HOUSE The freaks are waiting around the hole. Nosey pops out. NOSEY Mission accomplished. They've got the Noxon, and they'll be in the lab within minutes. FROGMAN Boy, this is going like clockwork! Everyone smiles, pats each other on the back, etc. Except Sockhead, who finally snaps. SOCKHEAD No! Can't you see we're digging our own graves!? (MORE) 71. It's nuts, SOCKHEAD(cont'd) that's what it is! Nuts! Well, maybe you've all got a deathwish, but you can count me out! I'M GETTING THE HELL OUT OF HERE! He runs amok, pushes various freaks to the ground, and runs around screaming. The freak house door opens--Eye and Eye step in to check out the noise. One of them has a spliff sticking out of its pupil. Sockhead charges at them like a mad dog. They aim their Uzis. SOCKHEAD (at the Eyes) OUT OF MY WAY! RATTA-RATTA-RATTA! They spray an ungodly amount of bullets into Sockhead. He falls to the ground. The Eyes leave. The freaks gather around Sockhead. Nosey pulls the sock off his hand head, which is making a little "Senor Pepe" face with its fist. It spits up a trickle of blood and tries to speak. SOCKHEAD (WEAK) I... I... just... wanna...say... NOSEY What is it, kid? SOCKHEAD Ah, forget it. I'm not much for dying. He goes limp. CUT TO: INT. ELIJAH'S LAB JulieErnie, the Worm, and Rick are just emerging from the hole. It's really dark in the lab. ERNIE Shit. I can't see a damn thing. RICK Keep your voice down, Ernie. ERNIE Don't push me, Coog. I got a real short fuse today. I'm cranky, bloated, got a wicked case of cramps. Don't ask why. 72. JULIE (whispers to Rick) PMS... RICK (has to think about this) Oh.... Right. Rick pats Ernie on the shoulder reassuringly. He moves over to Elijah's computer terminal. RICK (CONT'D) Well, here it is--the control panel for Elijah's Freaking process. WORM Good work, my boy. Now step aside. This is scientist's work. Worm muscles Rick out of the way and sits at the console. Using a pen held in his mouth, he flicks a series of switches and punches a fast series of computer keys. The light on top of the Tasty Freekz machine starts to revolve, and after a couple of seconds, a stream of GOOEY LIGHT BROWN GLOP oozes out of the spigot. ERNIE Hey! It's working! RICK You did it, Worm! Way to go! JULIE But how? You didn't even use the Noxon. The Worm rushes over to the container of glop below the spigot, and without hesitation, plunges his face into it! Rick, Julie, and Ernie gasp in horror! The WORM lifts his glop-smeared face out of the bowl, and smacks his

juleps

How many times the word 'juleps' appears in the text?

{I'M UGLY} Into this breathing world, scarse half made up, {I'M REALLY UGLY} And that so lamely and unfashionable, That dogs bark at me as I halt by them. {I'M F KIN' BUTT-UGLY, ALRIGHT!?} Why I, in this weak piping time of peace, {BLAH, BLAH, BLAH} Have no delight to pass away the time, {I NEVER GET LAID...} Unless to see my shadow in the sun, And descant on mine own deformity! {BECAUSE I'M UGLY} Rick bows. The crowd bursts into applause. They yell "Bravo" and throw bouquets. Rick takes several curtain calls. The freaks cheer for him. Julie is particularly moved--she and Rick exchange a heavy look, laden with romantic potential. NOTE: We will insert an almost subliminal one-frame shot of the Pepsi logo at this triumphant moment. Kevin, the EES executive from the airport scene, walks into the tent. Rick sees him and gasps with joy. He leaps off the stage, runs up to Kevin and hugs him. Kevin is shocked, of course. Overcome by the moment, Rick regresses to his old self. RICK I'm saved! Haha! You sorry mutants are gonna rot in this hole while I'm sipping mint juleps by the pool! {AS FORTUNE SMILES O'ER MY FATE, SO DESTINY SPURNS YOUR ACCURSE'D PATE} The freaks and the audience gasp at Rick's cruelty. Julie is shocked--Juan gives her an "I told you so" look. Rick sees Julie and catches himself. 49. RICK (TO KEVIN) I mean, um, I hope you have room for all my friends, heh-heh. KEVIN Rick, Rick, listen, I really love this new look you've come up with. But just between you and me, I don't think the guys upstairs would really get it. RICK What are you saying!? KEVIN (CHUCKLES SNIDELY) I'm saying you're ugly enough to burn the nosehairs off a dead nun. The crowd bursts into cruel hysterics, pointing mockingly at Rick. Even Alistair Cooke is practically choking with laughter. ALISTAIR COOKE AH-HA-HA-HA! WHAT A PUTZ! Rick looks around, horrified at the sea of evil, jeering faces. He begins to tremble. Then... RICK'S MONSTER EYE springs to life for the first time and glows red with rage. His whole monster side awakens and takes charge of his body with violent intensity. He grabs Kevin's head and screams in a new, monstrous voice. RICK EAT SHIT! POP! He plucks Kevin's head off his neck and holds it aloft. The head stares down at Rick in disbelief. KEVIN'S HEAD Now you're just being childish. Rick serves the head like a volleyball, smashing it to bits. The crowd panics and charges for the exits. CROWD AHHHHHH! HELP! LET US OUT OF HERE! People are trampling over each other in the mayhem. Alistair Cooke is crushed under the stampede. 50. The freaks are horrified. Monster Rick growls triumphantly. Elijah looks on, intrigued. ELIJAH Now that's entertainment. INT. FREAK HOUSE - MORNING Rick awakens with a start and gets up. He approaches JulieErnie, The Bearded Lady, Nosey and Dog Boy, who are idly playing a game of "Wheel of Fortune." The cubicles contain large blank blocks, like the "letters" on the game show. So far, there's a "D", two "S"s, and a "K" revealed. Rosie the Pinhead plays Vanna White's role. NOSEY I'd like to buy a vowel. The Bearded lady yawns. Rick edges towards them. RICK Hey. The Wheel. Mind if I sit in? Juan advances towards Rick, sneering. JUAN So. Now you don't mind mixing with us--how did you say it--sorry mutants? RICK Look! I'm sorry for what happened at the show. Can't you just forget it? He shakes his finger at Juan, and notices there's still a human nose stuck on his monster claw. He wipes it off, embarrassed. There's an awkward pause. Ernie breaks the silence. ERNIE Hey, shouldn't you tell Rick about your big escape plan? Juan gives Ernie a nasty "shut up" look. He growls at him. ERNIE Well, excuse me for living. RICK You have an escape plan? JUAN Listen, Beast Boy, the games are a simple diversion. (MORE) 51. JUAN(CONT'D) Beneath our twisted flesh we freaks cry out for freedom! Aooooooorrraaaagh! Juan howls lustily. He looks to rest of the freaks. They're a pathetic lot, and their half-hearted howl proves it. FREAKS Aoo... Beat. JULIE Juan's plan is really ingenious Rick. See, he figured out that-- JUAN I figured out that our escape does not include the Beast Boy. No one may discuss the plan with him, understand? Juan gives the others a threatening look. They mumble agreement. RICK What's the matter with all of you? You trust your lives to a guy just 'cause he can lick his own privates? The freaks ponder this a second, then nod "yes". ERNIE You gotta admit, Coog, it's a helluva trick. RICK (RESENTFUL) Fine! I'll just come up with an escape plan of my own then. JUAN Haha! I have spent a year studying this hellhole, devising the perfect escape. You think you'll just tango right out the door!? Ha! Just try it, amigo. RICK I will! Rick turns to go. JulieErnie rush over and try to reason with him quietly. 52. JULIE Rick, wait. ERNIE Yeah. Don't go off half-cocked. Believe me, it ain't all it's cracked up to be. JULIE This isn't one of your dumb movies, Coogan. Look, Juan's a good dog, a smart dog. I'll talk to him. Don't be stupid, Rick. You can't do it without us. RICK Forget it! I don't need you, EES, or anybody else! I'll get out of here all by myself, you... you.,. crud sucking pus monkeys! DING DING DING! The letters in the Wheel of Fortune board light up, and ROSIE turns them over to reveal "Crud Sucking Pus Monkeys" as the secret phrase. Everyone claps despite themselves. Juan stares them down. They stop. Rick storms off in a huff. Juan takes Julie's hand and gazes deep into her eyes. He kisses her passionately. Julie is watching Rick leave. Juan nibbles her neck, which gets her attention. She scratches Juan behind his ear. His leg instinctively kicks the air. Ernie looks worried. ERNIE I'm getting a bad feeling here. CUT TO: INT. REAR CORNER OF FREAK HOUSE - DAY Out of sight from the others, Rick approaches the rear door and tries it. It doesn't open from the inside. RICK Damn. He peers out through a crack in the door and sees a MILKMAN getting out of his truck in the driveway. RICK (TO MILKMAN) Psst! Hey, you. Milkman! 53. OUTSIDE The milkman looks over at the outhouse, suspicious. MILKMAN Yeah... ? RICK (V.0.) Just the man I'm lookinq for. Be a pal, and give me a hand will ya? MILKMAN Oooh no! I know you freaks. You'll try anything just to get someone to open that door. Well not me! Ha! He's about to walk away. RICK Okay. Guess I'll just have to milk the world's biggest breasted woman all by myself. Sorry to bother you. The milkman stops in his tracks. He tiptoes over to the back door of the outhouse, listening intently as Rick goes into his "act." RICK (in a lusty womanish VOICE) Ooohh... Milk me! Milk me now! Milk me hard! (Normal Rick voice) I've only got two hands, all right? Geez. I don't care if Elijah did give you skim milk on the right side, chocolate on the left, and eggnog in the middle. The milkman is salivating at the door. MILKMAN (TO HIMSELF) Gee, I love eggnog! The milkman opens the door eagerly and steps inside. Beat. MILKMAN Hey, what the-- BONK. We hear the sound of bottled buttermilk beaning his soft noggin. Rick walks out wearing the milkman outfit complete with the little six-milk-bottle-carrier thing. 54. He looks around and heads for the milk truck, whistling casually. He notices something. It's ... THE GIANT ELIJAH HEAD Its big eyes are staring at Rick (note: there's a skywriter plane in the distance behind the head, which finishes writing "YOU GOT THE RIGHT ONE BABY: PEPSI") Rick gets to the truck and tries the door. It's locked. RICK Shit. He looks over at the giant head. The eyes are still staring at him--they seem to have shifted. Rick shrugs it off and looks around. He walks over to Elijah's car. It's locked too. He checks the big eyes. They've moved again. Rick's getting a bit desperate. He sees something else and runs towards it. It's a dry-docked motorboat. It's locked too. The eyes have followed Rick again. He sees something else and runs over to it. It's a bag of golf clubs leaning against Elijah's porch. They're locked too. RICK Damn! This guy doesn't trust anybody! He looks at the giant head- the eyes are gone, leaving only empty eyesockets! Rick hears A BURST OF MACHINEGUN FIRE behind him, spins around and faces ... TWO THREE FOOT HIGH EYEBALLS with little arms and legs, wearing Jamaican Rasta hats and aiming smoking Uzi 9mms in the air. They aim their Uzis at Rick. One holds a walkie-talkie, the other holds a big spliff. RICK AHHHH! A T.V. MONITOR in Elijah's hands, shows Rick staring at us, the Eye's POV. ELIJAH seen in extreme close-up, watches the surveillance monitor. He speaks into a microphone. We don't see what the room looks like. ELIJAH Good work, Eye and Eye. 55. THE EYES bob in response to Elijah. They have no mouths, but their pupils open and close when they speak. EYE AND EYE (JAMAICAN ACCENTS) Rastafari. ELIJAH (V.0.) (over the walkie-talkie) Now bring the Beast Boy to my, uh, den. Ha-ha-ha-ha! Rick looks worried as they lead him towards the scary looking house. INT. ELIJAH'S DEN It's a lovely, suburban den with a coffee table full of magazines like "Better Homes and Gardens," "National Review" and "Freaks Illustrated". Elijah sits in a big Barcalounger, smoking a pipe. Rick sits on the sofa. Toad walks up with a tray of soft drinks. ELIJAH (TO RICK) Diet soda? RICK No thanks. Elijah points to a bowl of Fiddle Faddle. Toad sits beside Rick. ELIJAH Fiddle Faddle? (Rick shakes his head) You sure? RICK Well, okay. (he scoops some into his MOUTH) Well, are you gonna torture me or kill me or something? ELIJAH Torture my greatest creation ever!? Kill the final piece of the puzzle that I've been putting together for years!? Sure, it'd be fun, but I've got a bigger plan, my boy. (MORE) 56. ELIJAH(CONT'D) And when you ripped off that guy's head, I knew it was working like gangbusters! RICK But I thought I scared everyone away. ELIJAH Uh-huh. And then they told two friends, and they told two friends, and so on, and so on. Look at this. Elijah grabs a big mail bag and spills some letters out on the table. Elijah opens one and reads it. ELIJAH (READING) Dear Mister Skuggs, I was shocked and disgusted when my grandson told me about the head-popping beast at your show. Please send me six tickets. (he reads another) Dear Beast Boy, I used to like New Kids on The Block, but you're way cuter. My favorite ice cream is chocolate. Is it fun ripping people's heads off? I love you. (ANOTHER LETTER) The Beast Boy is on a blood-letting spree, and Oscar is along for the ride! (he looks up at Rick) That one's from Pat Collins! RICK Yeah, but she loves everything. Rick reaches for the Fiddle Faddle but the bowl is empty. Toad BURPS. ELIJAH Toad! That Fiddle Faddle is for guests only! You've had enough! Toad is blankfaced. Elijah walks over and refills the bowl. Rick scoops some into his mouth. Elijah walks to the fireplace and pushes the embers around with a poker. RICK Look Skuggs--Elijah--I've been in show business all my life. The public does not want to see disgusting, depraved violent filth. 57. ELIJAH Oh, and I suppose Jake and the Fatman is just a fluke? The phone rings. Elijah looks at it, and back to Rick. ELIJAH (CONT'D) I'll get it. He goes over to the phone and lifts the receiver. ELIJAH `Yello? On the other end of the line, we hear LAUGHING MAN's insane chuckle. Elijah's smooth smile fades. He turns his back to- Rick, who strains to identify the familiar laughing voice. Elijah scribbles notes on a pad by the phone. ELIJAH Yes... Right... Tomorrow... Mmhmm... Mnunhmm... Wow. Okay. You got it... Hasta la vista to you too. Hahaahahaahaha-- Laughing Man hangs up on Elijah. He looks a little pissed- off as he turns to face Rick again. Grumbling, he takes the poker in hand, and pokes at the coals angrily. ELIJAH Okay, Coogan. I'm finished with you for now. Ricky rises and snatches the notepad just before Elijah spins to face him. ELIJAH (CONT'D) But listen. I may not be "Mr. Tinseltown", but I damn well know what I like. You're gonna be a hideous killing machine, and that's final! Tomorrow night I'll finish the job onstage! And then, to demonstrate your horrible power, you'll slaughter all the old obsolete freaks in cold bl--HEY! Elijah thrusts the red hot fire poker out and ZAP! He catches Toad's ten foot tongue--curled around the searing poker inches from the Fiddle Faddle. TOAD AAAGGGGHH! 58. ELIJAH I told you enough! CUT TO: EXT. ELIJAH'S HOUSE DAY Elijah shows Rick out the door. The Eyes scurry out and leap back into the sockets in the giant head. ELIJAH Bye-bye. And remember, try another escape, and I'll feed your balls to Toad. As he walks towards the Freak House, Rick pulls out the note he pocketed. A gust of wind blows it away from him. He chases it behind the carnival tent where... KKCCLIINNK! He runs into ELEVEN PHONY MILKMEN, backing their way around the corner, each carrying their own six-pack of milkbottles. Startled, they turn around. Why, it's the freaks! And they're all dressed as milkmen! Cowboy carries the hammer, who's dressed in a little milkman suit as well. BEARDED LADY Hey Rick, I thought you were gonna come up with your own escape plan? RICK (TO JUAN) This is your big plan? A dozen milkmen? Isn't that a little unusual? Juan hadn't thought of this. He pushes himself forward and confronts Rick viciously. JUAN Twelve milkmen is theoretically possible. Thirteen is silly. Looks like one milkman too many, Coogan. He pushes Rick aside. The freaks continue past him. RICK Fine then. Go ahead. Hope you like reggae, ya flea bitten bastard. Rick watches as the Freaks approach the open courtyard, where he knows the Eyeballs will spot them. 59. Julie glances at him a second, then looks away. His mind made up, Rick takes a deep breath. RICK Ah, shit. He runs over to the Freaks. He stands in Juan's way. RICK Look, you'll all be killed. You don't know about Elijah's giant Rasta eyeballs with machine guns... (they think he's nuts) It's suicide! I can't let you do it. JUAN And I can't let you stop us. This is it. Rick and Juan square off. Juan growls and bares his teeth. Rick's MONSTER EYE starts to glow and pulse dimly. They circle each other. The others are transfixed. ELIJAH'S POV He peers through a side window, and sees the pack of milkmen cheering two of their coworkers, locked in mortal combat. ELIJAH That's a lot of milkmen on the same route. No wonder they fight. Juan rears back, about to lunge, when suddenly he freezes and looks off into the distance. A SQUIRREL is sitting innocently a few yards off. JUAN Squirrel! He zooms off after the squirrel. The Eyes pop out of the giant head and follow after him, Uzis FIRING. Juan dodges their bullets and disappears after his prey. The freaks watch their best chance of freedom run off after a pesky rodent. They turn to Rick. NOSEY Wow, giant Rasta eyeballs, just like Rick said. SOCKHEAD Gosh, if it wasn't for Rick, we'd all be dead! 60. OTHER FREAKS Yeah! Way to go Rick! Alright! ERNIE (TO JULIE) God, I can't believe he left you for a squirrel. What a dick. Julie's hurt. She doesn't even smack Ernie. RICK You know how men are. Besides, it was a pretty good looking squirrel. Julie looks at Rick. She sees he's trying to be helpful, not sarcastic. JULIE (to the others) Come on. You heard the Beast Boy. Back to the Freak House, now. Her eyes meet Rick's. She manages a smile, and Rick smiles back. Ernie sizes up the situation and groans as they all head back to the Freak House. ERNIE Not again. (TO RICK) Oh well, at least we'll get to try a new position. CUT TO: INT. STARK INTERROGATION ROOM We're moving in towards a door in this desolate, vaguely corporate looking hallway. INSIDE THE ROOM We're looking at the back of Laughing Man's leather chair. We hear his CACKLE, as well as STUEY GLUCK'S TORTURED SCREAMS and a horrible POWER TOOL NOISE. We can see the usual bright interrogation spotlight, and a couple of extra GOONS watching the goings on, but Stuey and his actual torturer are hidden by Laughing Man's chair. STUEY (O.S.) AHHHHH! STOP IT! OOOWWWWW! We move past Mr. Big's chair to reveal Stuey lying face down on a table, while Bob Vila is using a power sander on his butt. Bob is happily giving pointers to the two goons. 61. BOB Notice the way I use an elliptical motion to chafe Stuey's buttocks. (the Goons nod ATTENTIVELY) It's all here in my new book: Pipes, Fixtures, and Torturing TROLLS-- LAUGHING MAN(O.S.) (Loud, sharp laugh) A-HA-HA-HAHA-HA-HA-HA! Bob obediently shuts up. Laughing Man directs a sinister low chuckle to Stuey. STUEY No way. I'll never talk! I'm made of stone! Bob considers this a second, then starts up a jackhammer. STUEY HELP! RICK! RIIIIIIIIIICCKKK! CUT TO: INT. FREAK HOUSE - DAY We hear LONESOME HARMONICA MUSIC as we pan past the cubicles. Cowboy is playing the harmonica... The Bearded Lady unties the pretty pink ribbon in his hair and sets it aside... Suddenly, we switch to HORRIFIC PSYCHO STINGS as the camera picks up PAUL LYNDE'S CORPSE with flashing red lights. His eyeball drips out of the socket again... Then it's back to the SAD HARMONICA MUSIC. In the next cubicle, Ernie is sleeping, Julie is awake, dreamily fondling a large eclair. She looks longingly up towards Rick's cubicle as we... DREAM DISSOLVE TO: DREAMLAND Rick (his face is normal) and Julie kiss passionately in a billowy white bed amidst puffy clouds. 62. RICK (SINCERE) Julie, compared to this, sex with Julia Roberts was a thankless chore. QUICK DISSOLVE BACK TO: JULIE' We follow her gaze, panning up to Rick. He's lying on his bed, dreamily fondling a donut. He looks down towards Julie's cabin... DREAM DISSOLVE TO: DREAMLAND Rick and Julie kiss passionately. We're tight on them. JULIE Oh Rick, you've touched a place in me no one has ever touched before. ERNIE(O.S.) I'll say! Almost punctured a kidney! WIDEN to show Ernie, still attached to Julie, leering at Rick. Rick is mortified. QUICK DREAM DISSOLVE TO: INT. FREAK HOUSE - DAY Rick sits in his cubicle, visibly sickened by his daydream. Stuey's echoey voice drifts in. STUEY(V.0.) Rick! Riiiicccck! A holographic image of Stuey lying on the torture table appears over Rick. We can see the jackhammer looming over Stuey's face. Rick looks alarmed. STUEY HOLOGRAM Rick! Do something! It's up to you, Rick! Pleeeeeeease! LAUGHING MAN (O.S) Aha-hee-hee-ho-ho-har-har-har! 63. RICK The Laughing Man! Rick watches the hologram break up and disappear. Wheels spinning in his head, he takes the crumpled piece of paper out of his pocket and reads it. RICK (under his breath) Holy shit! JULIE/ERNIE'S CUBICLE Julie and Ernie are struggling over a bottle of deodorant. ERNIE It says it's strong enough for a man! JULIE But it's made for a woman! She grabs it away and shoves it in Ernie's mouth. Rick walks in. JULIE Hey Rick. What's up? RICK Read this. I grabbed it from Skuggs' office. He hands her the notepaper. She reads it, with some difficulty. Ernie is still gagging on deodorant. JULIE "Tape Donahue... Renew Subscription to Beaver World..." Eeuw! She gives Rick a disgusted look. Ernie mumbles with the deodorant in his mouth. ERNIE (interested, muffled) Beaver World!? Julie smacks him--he swallows the deodorant. RICK (TO JULIE) After that. 64. JULIE "Prepare demonstration for Laughing Man, receive five thousand barrels of Noxon." Five thousand barrels!? RICK Elijah's up to something big, and we have to stop him. Ernie BELCHES. Rick sniffs the air. RICK Mmmm. Jasmine. SWISH PAN TO: INT. FREAK HOUSE - DAY Rick takes a deep breath, and begins his presentation to the freaks assembled before him. RICK Alright guys, listen up-- Sockhead suddenly freaks out. SOCKHEAD We're done for! We're done for! I don't want to die! It's the end of the world! The apocalypse! Aahh! He stops. Everyone is staring at him. RICK I haven't said anything yet. SOCKHEAD Sorry. I'm not much for timing. He takes his seat again. RICK (TO EVERYONE) Tomorrow night, at the show, I'll be turned into a homicidal monster and forced to kill you all. But we might have a chance if we act fast. And I'm prepared to be your new leader. A THRILLING CHORD. 65. NOSEY (TO SOCKHEAD) I say we kill him. Sockhead nods. RICK And I've got a plan. ANOTHER THRILLING CHORD. NOSEY I still say we kill him. Sockhead nods again. RICK If we can get into Elijah's lab, maybe we can-- WORM Of course! Design a super freak of our own and manipulate the genetic code to make him destroy Elijah instead of us! Brilliant! RICK Oh. Well-- BEARDED LADY But how do we get to the lab? RICK Um, maybe-- COWBOY Right! The worm could dig a tunnel! WORM By God, it's so crazy it might just work! ERNIE But you need Noxon 24 to make the freaking sludge, and Elijah told us himself he's run out of it. RICK Oh. Oh yeah. Well, see, what I was going to say was-- 66. JULIE Yes! Exactly! If they've been using Noxon 24 as a fertilizer here, the entire ecosystem must be soaked with it! All we need is a way to extract it from the vegetation, ideally into a liquid form. RICK Right. Well, what about-- COWBOY Golly! So that's why my milk comes out that funny green color! I thought the grass tasted funny! Wow, Rick, you're a genius! JULIE (SMILES WARMLY) Good thinking, Rick. The freaks all nod in agreement. NOSEY Way to go, Rick! How did you ever think of such a plan? Rick pulls out an old comic book and points to an ad for Sea Monkeys. RICK Well, actually, I was going to suggest we send away for sea monkeys, train them to fire guns, and make a break for it. But if you want to go with this other thing, I guess that's okay. The freaks stare at him, not sure if he's kidding or not. CUT TO: INT. FREAK HOUSE - NIGHT FREAKS ON A MISSION MONTAGE, SET TO A POUNDING "EYE OF THE TIGER"-TYPE SONG -Nosey milks Cowboy, squirting the glowing milk into a funnel which feeds into a crude still. The Torch heats the boiler. -The Worm digs the tunnel. JulieErnie hand Rick pieces of wood which he puts into place as tunnel supports. They hand him Paul Lynde's corpse and he wedges it in as well. 67. -Everyone's getting into it and working up a sweat. Nosey wipes his brow, opens a bottle of Pepsi and chugs it down in a beautifully lit slo-mo product shot... The other freaks follow suit, including the Worm, down in the tunnel, who struggles to hold the bottle in his tiny feeler. Everything's going great and the song is really pumping when... ELIJAH runs out on his front porch in his nightclothes and screams down at the outhouse. ELIJAH WOULD YOU TURN DOWN THAT GODDAMN RACKET!? IN THE FREAK HOUSE Nosey turns off a boom box and the music cuts short. The freaks exchange tense looks. Nosey calls out apologetically to Elijah. NOSEY SOR-RY. (to the freaks) What a jerk! INT. UNDERGROUND TUNNEL The Worm burrows along, leaving a tunnel wide enough for Rick and JulieErnie to crawl after him. Rick notices a ray of light coming through a rock formation. RICK Hey, look at this! They all stop and look. Rick fingers the hole, and the rocks cave in, revealing A VAST UNDERGROUND CITY It's obviously a matte painting. WORM Good Lord! It's the Lost City of Nodd! JULIE Wow! 68. KER-CHUNK! We hear the sound of a slide projector switching slides and the underground city is replaced by a still image of some tourists standing around a geyser. [foriegn version: the Blarney Stone]. RICK It's Old Faithful! (foriegn take: "It's the Blarney Stone!"] They "Ooh" and "Ahh". The image switches to a snapshot of a FAT MIDDLE-AGED WOMAN. ERNIE It's my Aunt Gladys! The other freaks nod politely. The image switches to a BAR MITZVAH PHOTO. ERNIE And that's me at my bar mitzvah! RICK C'mon Ernie, let's go. ERNIE Wait, you gotta see the ones from sleep-away camp! They're hilarious! Julie smacks him. JULIE Stooge! EXT. FREAK COMPOUND - NIGHT It's an "Antfarm View" of the yard, where the freaks are visible tunneling underground, and Toad is visible on the yard above them. We see a bat fly overhead... ZAP! Toad shoots out his tongue, snags it out of mid air, and chews it happily, oblivious to the freaks burrowing right underneath him. INT. FREAK HOUSE Nosey looks at the nearly full container of distilled Noxon. NOSEY Almost there. (he sniffs the air) But wait, I'm getting a whiff of things to come! 69. BEARDED LADY What do you smell? NOSEY (GRIM) Blood. Bearded Lady looks grave..Nosey sniffs again. NOSEY (CHEERFUL) And hot buttered popcorn! BEARDED LADY Awwright! INT. TUNNEL They're burrowing along. Ernie loudly clears his throat. Julie spits out a loogie. She grimaces. JULIE I hate when you do that. We hear muffled BARKING. ERNIE Hey! Do you hear that? JULIE It's a dog! RICK (TO WORM) Hurry! The Worm breaks through into a small cavern with several exposed sewer pipes. A lovable mutt leaps out of a pipe and drops an old tennis ball in front of Rick. He starts licking Rick's face. RICK Scrappy! SAPPY MUSIC wells up. RICK It's been ten years since you chased this ball into the sewer! I thought you were gone for good! SCRAPPY Yap! 70. RICK Listen Scrap. Go home. Get help. Understand? SCRAPPY Yap! RICK Good boy! Now go! Scrappy runs away into the sewer pipe. Rick shrugs. RICK You never know. Julie taps on some exposed wood on the cavern ceiling. JULIE Look, a wood floor. WORM It must be the lab! we've done it! They all look at each other excitedly. Suddenly Elijah's voice rings out behind them. ELIJAH'S VOICE Not so fast, you scabrous freaks! They spin around and see Nosey holding the bottle of Noxon 24. He grins. NOSEY Didn't know I did impressions, did ya? INT. FREAK HOUSE The freaks are waiting around the hole. Nosey pops out. NOSEY Mission accomplished. They've got the Noxon, and they'll be in the lab within minutes. FROGMAN Boy, this is going like clockwork! Everyone smiles, pats each other on the back, etc. Except Sockhead, who finally snaps. SOCKHEAD No! Can't you see we're digging our own graves!? (MORE) 71. It's nuts, SOCKHEAD(cont'd) that's what it is! Nuts! Well, maybe you've all got a deathwish, but you can count me out! I'M GETTING THE HELL OUT OF HERE! He runs amok, pushes various freaks to the ground, and runs around screaming. The freak house door opens--Eye and Eye step in to check out the noise. One of them has a spliff sticking out of its pupil. Sockhead charges at them like a mad dog. They aim their Uzis. SOCKHEAD (at the Eyes) OUT OF MY WAY! RATTA-RATTA-RATTA! They spray an ungodly amount of bullets into Sockhead. He falls to the ground. The Eyes leave. The freaks gather around Sockhead. Nosey pulls the sock off his hand head, which is making a little "Senor Pepe" face with its fist. It spits up a trickle of blood and tries to speak. SOCKHEAD (WEAK) I... I... just... wanna...say... NOSEY What is it, kid? SOCKHEAD Ah, forget it. I'm not much for dying. He goes limp. CUT TO: INT. ELIJAH'S LAB JulieErnie, the Worm, and Rick are just emerging from the hole. It's really dark in the lab. ERNIE Shit. I can't see a damn thing. RICK Keep your voice down, Ernie. ERNIE Don't push me, Coog. I got a real short fuse today. I'm cranky, bloated, got a wicked case of cramps. Don't ask why. 72. JULIE (whispers to Rick) PMS... RICK (has to think about this) Oh.... Right. Rick pats Ernie on the shoulder reassuringly. He moves over to Elijah's computer terminal. RICK (CONT'D) Well, here it is--the control panel for Elijah's Freaking process. WORM Good work, my boy. Now step aside. This is scientist's work. Worm muscles Rick out of the way and sits at the console. Using a pen held in his mouth, he flicks a series of switches and punches a fast series of computer keys. The light on top of the Tasty Freekz machine starts to revolve, and after a couple of seconds, a stream of GOOEY LIGHT BROWN GLOP oozes out of the spigot. ERNIE Hey! It's working! RICK You did it, Worm! Way to go! JULIE But how? You didn't even use the Noxon. The Worm rushes over to the container of glop below the spigot, and without hesitation, plunges his face into it! Rick, Julie, and Ernie gasp in horror! The WORM lifts his glop-smeared face out of the bowl, and smacks his

approaches

How many times the word 'approaches' appears in the text?

{I'M UGLY} Into this breathing world, scarse half made up, {I'M REALLY UGLY} And that so lamely and unfashionable, That dogs bark at me as I halt by them. {I'M F KIN' BUTT-UGLY, ALRIGHT!?} Why I, in this weak piping time of peace, {BLAH, BLAH, BLAH} Have no delight to pass away the time, {I NEVER GET LAID...} Unless to see my shadow in the sun, And descant on mine own deformity! {BECAUSE I'M UGLY} Rick bows. The crowd bursts into applause. They yell "Bravo" and throw bouquets. Rick takes several curtain calls. The freaks cheer for him. Julie is particularly moved--she and Rick exchange a heavy look, laden with romantic potential. NOTE: We will insert an almost subliminal one-frame shot of the Pepsi logo at this triumphant moment. Kevin, the EES executive from the airport scene, walks into the tent. Rick sees him and gasps with joy. He leaps off the stage, runs up to Kevin and hugs him. Kevin is shocked, of course. Overcome by the moment, Rick regresses to his old self. RICK I'm saved! Haha! You sorry mutants are gonna rot in this hole while I'm sipping mint juleps by the pool! {AS FORTUNE SMILES O'ER MY FATE, SO DESTINY SPURNS YOUR ACCURSE'D PATE} The freaks and the audience gasp at Rick's cruelty. Julie is shocked--Juan gives her an "I told you so" look. Rick sees Julie and catches himself. 49. RICK (TO KEVIN) I mean, um, I hope you have room for all my friends, heh-heh. KEVIN Rick, Rick, listen, I really love this new look you've come up with. But just between you and me, I don't think the guys upstairs would really get it. RICK What are you saying!? KEVIN (CHUCKLES SNIDELY) I'm saying you're ugly enough to burn the nosehairs off a dead nun. The crowd bursts into cruel hysterics, pointing mockingly at Rick. Even Alistair Cooke is practically choking with laughter. ALISTAIR COOKE AH-HA-HA-HA! WHAT A PUTZ! Rick looks around, horrified at the sea of evil, jeering faces. He begins to tremble. Then... RICK'S MONSTER EYE springs to life for the first time and glows red with rage. His whole monster side awakens and takes charge of his body with violent intensity. He grabs Kevin's head and screams in a new, monstrous voice. RICK EAT SHIT! POP! He plucks Kevin's head off his neck and holds it aloft. The head stares down at Rick in disbelief. KEVIN'S HEAD Now you're just being childish. Rick serves the head like a volleyball, smashing it to bits. The crowd panics and charges for the exits. CROWD AHHHHHH! HELP! LET US OUT OF HERE! People are trampling over each other in the mayhem. Alistair Cooke is crushed under the stampede. 50. The freaks are horrified. Monster Rick growls triumphantly. Elijah looks on, intrigued. ELIJAH Now that's entertainment. INT. FREAK HOUSE - MORNING Rick awakens with a start and gets up. He approaches JulieErnie, The Bearded Lady, Nosey and Dog Boy, who are idly playing a game of "Wheel of Fortune." The cubicles contain large blank blocks, like the "letters" on the game show. So far, there's a "D", two "S"s, and a "K" revealed. Rosie the Pinhead plays Vanna White's role. NOSEY I'd like to buy a vowel. The Bearded lady yawns. Rick edges towards them. RICK Hey. The Wheel. Mind if I sit in? Juan advances towards Rick, sneering. JUAN So. Now you don't mind mixing with us--how did you say it--sorry mutants? RICK Look! I'm sorry for what happened at the show. Can't you just forget it? He shakes his finger at Juan, and notices there's still a human nose stuck on his monster claw. He wipes it off, embarrassed. There's an awkward pause. Ernie breaks the silence. ERNIE Hey, shouldn't you tell Rick about your big escape plan? Juan gives Ernie a nasty "shut up" look. He growls at him. ERNIE Well, excuse me for living. RICK You have an escape plan? JUAN Listen, Beast Boy, the games are a simple diversion. (MORE) 51. JUAN(CONT'D) Beneath our twisted flesh we freaks cry out for freedom! Aooooooorrraaaagh! Juan howls lustily. He looks to rest of the freaks. They're a pathetic lot, and their half-hearted howl proves it. FREAKS Aoo... Beat. JULIE Juan's plan is really ingenious Rick. See, he figured out that-- JUAN I figured out that our escape does not include the Beast Boy. No one may discuss the plan with him, understand? Juan gives the others a threatening look. They mumble agreement. RICK What's the matter with all of you? You trust your lives to a guy just 'cause he can lick his own privates? The freaks ponder this a second, then nod "yes". ERNIE You gotta admit, Coog, it's a helluva trick. RICK (RESENTFUL) Fine! I'll just come up with an escape plan of my own then. JUAN Haha! I have spent a year studying this hellhole, devising the perfect escape. You think you'll just tango right out the door!? Ha! Just try it, amigo. RICK I will! Rick turns to go. JulieErnie rush over and try to reason with him quietly. 52. JULIE Rick, wait. ERNIE Yeah. Don't go off half-cocked. Believe me, it ain't all it's cracked up to be. JULIE This isn't one of your dumb movies, Coogan. Look, Juan's a good dog, a smart dog. I'll talk to him. Don't be stupid, Rick. You can't do it without us. RICK Forget it! I don't need you, EES, or anybody else! I'll get out of here all by myself, you... you.,. crud sucking pus monkeys! DING DING DING! The letters in the Wheel of Fortune board light up, and ROSIE turns them over to reveal "Crud Sucking Pus Monkeys" as the secret phrase. Everyone claps despite themselves. Juan stares them down. They stop. Rick storms off in a huff. Juan takes Julie's hand and gazes deep into her eyes. He kisses her passionately. Julie is watching Rick leave. Juan nibbles her neck, which gets her attention. She scratches Juan behind his ear. His leg instinctively kicks the air. Ernie looks worried. ERNIE I'm getting a bad feeling here. CUT TO: INT. REAR CORNER OF FREAK HOUSE - DAY Out of sight from the others, Rick approaches the rear door and tries it. It doesn't open from the inside. RICK Damn. He peers out through a crack in the door and sees a MILKMAN getting out of his truck in the driveway. RICK (TO MILKMAN) Psst! Hey, you. Milkman! 53. OUTSIDE The milkman looks over at the outhouse, suspicious. MILKMAN Yeah... ? RICK (V.0.) Just the man I'm lookinq for. Be a pal, and give me a hand will ya? MILKMAN Oooh no! I know you freaks. You'll try anything just to get someone to open that door. Well not me! Ha! He's about to walk away. RICK Okay. Guess I'll just have to milk the world's biggest breasted woman all by myself. Sorry to bother you. The milkman stops in his tracks. He tiptoes over to the back door of the outhouse, listening intently as Rick goes into his "act." RICK (in a lusty womanish VOICE) Ooohh... Milk me! Milk me now! Milk me hard! (Normal Rick voice) I've only got two hands, all right? Geez. I don't care if Elijah did give you skim milk on the right side, chocolate on the left, and eggnog in the middle. The milkman is salivating at the door. MILKMAN (TO HIMSELF) Gee, I love eggnog! The milkman opens the door eagerly and steps inside. Beat. MILKMAN Hey, what the-- BONK. We hear the sound of bottled buttermilk beaning his soft noggin. Rick walks out wearing the milkman outfit complete with the little six-milk-bottle-carrier thing. 54. He looks around and heads for the milk truck, whistling casually. He notices something. It's ... THE GIANT ELIJAH HEAD Its big eyes are staring at Rick (note: there's a skywriter plane in the distance behind the head, which finishes writing "YOU GOT THE RIGHT ONE BABY: PEPSI") Rick gets to the truck and tries the door. It's locked. RICK Shit. He looks over at the giant head. The eyes are still staring at him--they seem to have shifted. Rick shrugs it off and looks around. He walks over to Elijah's car. It's locked too. He checks the big eyes. They've moved again. Rick's getting a bit desperate. He sees something else and runs towards it. It's a dry-docked motorboat. It's locked too. The eyes have followed Rick again. He sees something else and runs over to it. It's a bag of golf clubs leaning against Elijah's porch. They're locked too. RICK Damn! This guy doesn't trust anybody! He looks at the giant head- the eyes are gone, leaving only empty eyesockets! Rick hears A BURST OF MACHINEGUN FIRE behind him, spins around and faces ... TWO THREE FOOT HIGH EYEBALLS with little arms and legs, wearing Jamaican Rasta hats and aiming smoking Uzi 9mms in the air. They aim their Uzis at Rick. One holds a walkie-talkie, the other holds a big spliff. RICK AHHHH! A T.V. MONITOR in Elijah's hands, shows Rick staring at us, the Eye's POV. ELIJAH seen in extreme close-up, watches the surveillance monitor. He speaks into a microphone. We don't see what the room looks like. ELIJAH Good work, Eye and Eye. 55. THE EYES bob in response to Elijah. They have no mouths, but their pupils open and close when they speak. EYE AND EYE (JAMAICAN ACCENTS) Rastafari. ELIJAH (V.0.) (over the walkie-talkie) Now bring the Beast Boy to my, uh, den. Ha-ha-ha-ha! Rick looks worried as they lead him towards the scary looking house. INT. ELIJAH'S DEN It's a lovely, suburban den with a coffee table full of magazines like "Better Homes and Gardens," "National Review" and "Freaks Illustrated". Elijah sits in a big Barcalounger, smoking a pipe. Rick sits on the sofa. Toad walks up with a tray of soft drinks. ELIJAH (TO RICK) Diet soda? RICK No thanks. Elijah points to a bowl of Fiddle Faddle. Toad sits beside Rick. ELIJAH Fiddle Faddle? (Rick shakes his head) You sure? RICK Well, okay. (he scoops some into his MOUTH) Well, are you gonna torture me or kill me or something? ELIJAH Torture my greatest creation ever!? Kill the final piece of the puzzle that I've been putting together for years!? Sure, it'd be fun, but I've got a bigger plan, my boy. (MORE) 56. ELIJAH(CONT'D) And when you ripped off that guy's head, I knew it was working like gangbusters! RICK But I thought I scared everyone away. ELIJAH Uh-huh. And then they told two friends, and they told two friends, and so on, and so on. Look at this. Elijah grabs a big mail bag and spills some letters out on the table. Elijah opens one and reads it. ELIJAH (READING) Dear Mister Skuggs, I was shocked and disgusted when my grandson told me about the head-popping beast at your show. Please send me six tickets. (he reads another) Dear Beast Boy, I used to like New Kids on The Block, but you're way cuter. My favorite ice cream is chocolate. Is it fun ripping people's heads off? I love you. (ANOTHER LETTER) The Beast Boy is on a blood-letting spree, and Oscar is along for the ride! (he looks up at Rick) That one's from Pat Collins! RICK Yeah, but she loves everything. Rick reaches for the Fiddle Faddle but the bowl is empty. Toad BURPS. ELIJAH Toad! That Fiddle Faddle is for guests only! You've had enough! Toad is blankfaced. Elijah walks over and refills the bowl. Rick scoops some into his mouth. Elijah walks to the fireplace and pushes the embers around with a poker. RICK Look Skuggs--Elijah--I've been in show business all my life. The public does not want to see disgusting, depraved violent filth. 57. ELIJAH Oh, and I suppose Jake and the Fatman is just a fluke? The phone rings. Elijah looks at it, and back to Rick. ELIJAH (CONT'D) I'll get it. He goes over to the phone and lifts the receiver. ELIJAH `Yello? On the other end of the line, we hear LAUGHING MAN's insane chuckle. Elijah's smooth smile fades. He turns his back to- Rick, who strains to identify the familiar laughing voice. Elijah scribbles notes on a pad by the phone. ELIJAH Yes... Right... Tomorrow... Mmhmm... Mnunhmm... Wow. Okay. You got it... Hasta la vista to you too. Hahaahahaahaha-- Laughing Man hangs up on Elijah. He looks a little pissed- off as he turns to face Rick again. Grumbling, he takes the poker in hand, and pokes at the coals angrily. ELIJAH Okay, Coogan. I'm finished with you for now. Ricky rises and snatches the notepad just before Elijah spins to face him. ELIJAH (CONT'D) But listen. I may not be "Mr. Tinseltown", but I damn well know what I like. You're gonna be a hideous killing machine, and that's final! Tomorrow night I'll finish the job onstage! And then, to demonstrate your horrible power, you'll slaughter all the old obsolete freaks in cold bl--HEY! Elijah thrusts the red hot fire poker out and ZAP! He catches Toad's ten foot tongue--curled around the searing poker inches from the Fiddle Faddle. TOAD AAAGGGGHH! 58. ELIJAH I told you enough! CUT TO: EXT. ELIJAH'S HOUSE DAY Elijah shows Rick out the door. The Eyes scurry out and leap back into the sockets in the giant head. ELIJAH Bye-bye. And remember, try another escape, and I'll feed your balls to Toad. As he walks towards the Freak House, Rick pulls out the note he pocketed. A gust of wind blows it away from him. He chases it behind the carnival tent where... KKCCLIINNK! He runs into ELEVEN PHONY MILKMEN, backing their way around the corner, each carrying their own six-pack of milkbottles. Startled, they turn around. Why, it's the freaks! And they're all dressed as milkmen! Cowboy carries the hammer, who's dressed in a little milkman suit as well. BEARDED LADY Hey Rick, I thought you were gonna come up with your own escape plan? RICK (TO JUAN) This is your big plan? A dozen milkmen? Isn't that a little unusual? Juan hadn't thought of this. He pushes himself forward and confronts Rick viciously. JUAN Twelve milkmen is theoretically possible. Thirteen is silly. Looks like one milkman too many, Coogan. He pushes Rick aside. The freaks continue past him. RICK Fine then. Go ahead. Hope you like reggae, ya flea bitten bastard. Rick watches as the Freaks approach the open courtyard, where he knows the Eyeballs will spot them. 59. Julie glances at him a second, then looks away. His mind made up, Rick takes a deep breath. RICK Ah, shit. He runs over to the Freaks. He stands in Juan's way. RICK Look, you'll all be killed. You don't know about Elijah's giant Rasta eyeballs with machine guns... (they think he's nuts) It's suicide! I can't let you do it. JUAN And I can't let you stop us. This is it. Rick and Juan square off. Juan growls and bares his teeth. Rick's MONSTER EYE starts to glow and pulse dimly. They circle each other. The others are transfixed. ELIJAH'S POV He peers through a side window, and sees the pack of milkmen cheering two of their coworkers, locked in mortal combat. ELIJAH That's a lot of milkmen on the same route. No wonder they fight. Juan rears back, about to lunge, when suddenly he freezes and looks off into the distance. A SQUIRREL is sitting innocently a few yards off. JUAN Squirrel! He zooms off after the squirrel. The Eyes pop out of the giant head and follow after him, Uzis FIRING. Juan dodges their bullets and disappears after his prey. The freaks watch their best chance of freedom run off after a pesky rodent. They turn to Rick. NOSEY Wow, giant Rasta eyeballs, just like Rick said. SOCKHEAD Gosh, if it wasn't for Rick, we'd all be dead! 60. OTHER FREAKS Yeah! Way to go Rick! Alright! ERNIE (TO JULIE) God, I can't believe he left you for a squirrel. What a dick. Julie's hurt. She doesn't even smack Ernie. RICK You know how men are. Besides, it was a pretty good looking squirrel. Julie looks at Rick. She sees he's trying to be helpful, not sarcastic. JULIE (to the others) Come on. You heard the Beast Boy. Back to the Freak House, now. Her eyes meet Rick's. She manages a smile, and Rick smiles back. Ernie sizes up the situation and groans as they all head back to the Freak House. ERNIE Not again. (TO RICK) Oh well, at least we'll get to try a new position. CUT TO: INT. STARK INTERROGATION ROOM We're moving in towards a door in this desolate, vaguely corporate looking hallway. INSIDE THE ROOM We're looking at the back of Laughing Man's leather chair. We hear his CACKLE, as well as STUEY GLUCK'S TORTURED SCREAMS and a horrible POWER TOOL NOISE. We can see the usual bright interrogation spotlight, and a couple of extra GOONS watching the goings on, but Stuey and his actual torturer are hidden by Laughing Man's chair. STUEY (O.S.) AHHHHH! STOP IT! OOOWWWWW! We move past Mr. Big's chair to reveal Stuey lying face down on a table, while Bob Vila is using a power sander on his butt. Bob is happily giving pointers to the two goons. 61. BOB Notice the way I use an elliptical motion to chafe Stuey's buttocks. (the Goons nod ATTENTIVELY) It's all here in my new book: Pipes, Fixtures, and Torturing TROLLS-- LAUGHING MAN(O.S.) (Loud, sharp laugh) A-HA-HA-HAHA-HA-HA-HA! Bob obediently shuts up. Laughing Man directs a sinister low chuckle to Stuey. STUEY No way. I'll never talk! I'm made of stone! Bob considers this a second, then starts up a jackhammer. STUEY HELP! RICK! RIIIIIIIIIICCKKK! CUT TO: INT. FREAK HOUSE - DAY We hear LONESOME HARMONICA MUSIC as we pan past the cubicles. Cowboy is playing the harmonica... The Bearded Lady unties the pretty pink ribbon in his hair and sets it aside... Suddenly, we switch to HORRIFIC PSYCHO STINGS as the camera picks up PAUL LYNDE'S CORPSE with flashing red lights. His eyeball drips out of the socket again... Then it's back to the SAD HARMONICA MUSIC. In the next cubicle, Ernie is sleeping, Julie is awake, dreamily fondling a large eclair. She looks longingly up towards Rick's cubicle as we... DREAM DISSOLVE TO: DREAMLAND Rick (his face is normal) and Julie kiss passionately in a billowy white bed amidst puffy clouds. 62. RICK (SINCERE) Julie, compared to this, sex with Julia Roberts was a thankless chore. QUICK DISSOLVE BACK TO: JULIE' We follow her gaze, panning up to Rick. He's lying on his bed, dreamily fondling a donut. He looks down towards Julie's cabin... DREAM DISSOLVE TO: DREAMLAND Rick and Julie kiss passionately. We're tight on them. JULIE Oh Rick, you've touched a place in me no one has ever touched before. ERNIE(O.S.) I'll say! Almost punctured a kidney! WIDEN to show Ernie, still attached to Julie, leering at Rick. Rick is mortified. QUICK DREAM DISSOLVE TO: INT. FREAK HOUSE - DAY Rick sits in his cubicle, visibly sickened by his daydream. Stuey's echoey voice drifts in. STUEY(V.0.) Rick! Riiiicccck! A holographic image of Stuey lying on the torture table appears over Rick. We can see the jackhammer looming over Stuey's face. Rick looks alarmed. STUEY HOLOGRAM Rick! Do something! It's up to you, Rick! Pleeeeeeease! LAUGHING MAN (O.S) Aha-hee-hee-ho-ho-har-har-har! 63. RICK The Laughing Man! Rick watches the hologram break up and disappear. Wheels spinning in his head, he takes the crumpled piece of paper out of his pocket and reads it. RICK (under his breath) Holy shit! JULIE/ERNIE'S CUBICLE Julie and Ernie are struggling over a bottle of deodorant. ERNIE It says it's strong enough for a man! JULIE But it's made for a woman! She grabs it away and shoves it in Ernie's mouth. Rick walks in. JULIE Hey Rick. What's up? RICK Read this. I grabbed it from Skuggs' office. He hands her the notepaper. She reads it, with some difficulty. Ernie is still gagging on deodorant. JULIE "Tape Donahue... Renew Subscription to Beaver World..." Eeuw! She gives Rick a disgusted look. Ernie mumbles with the deodorant in his mouth. ERNIE (interested, muffled) Beaver World!? Julie smacks him--he swallows the deodorant. RICK (TO JULIE) After that. 64. JULIE "Prepare demonstration for Laughing Man, receive five thousand barrels of Noxon." Five thousand barrels!? RICK Elijah's up to something big, and we have to stop him. Ernie BELCHES. Rick sniffs the air. RICK Mmmm. Jasmine. SWISH PAN TO: INT. FREAK HOUSE - DAY Rick takes a deep breath, and begins his presentation to the freaks assembled before him. RICK Alright guys, listen up-- Sockhead suddenly freaks out. SOCKHEAD We're done for! We're done for! I don't want to die! It's the end of the world! The apocalypse! Aahh! He stops. Everyone is staring at him. RICK I haven't said anything yet. SOCKHEAD Sorry. I'm not much for timing. He takes his seat again. RICK (TO EVERYONE) Tomorrow night, at the show, I'll be turned into a homicidal monster and forced to kill you all. But we might have a chance if we act fast. And I'm prepared to be your new leader. A THRILLING CHORD. 65. NOSEY (TO SOCKHEAD) I say we kill him. Sockhead nods. RICK And I've got a plan. ANOTHER THRILLING CHORD. NOSEY I still say we kill him. Sockhead nods again. RICK If we can get into Elijah's lab, maybe we can-- WORM Of course! Design a super freak of our own and manipulate the genetic code to make him destroy Elijah instead of us! Brilliant! RICK Oh. Well-- BEARDED LADY But how do we get to the lab? RICK Um, maybe-- COWBOY Right! The worm could dig a tunnel! WORM By God, it's so crazy it might just work! ERNIE But you need Noxon 24 to make the freaking sludge, and Elijah told us himself he's run out of it. RICK Oh. Oh yeah. Well, see, what I was going to say was-- 66. JULIE Yes! Exactly! If they've been using Noxon 24 as a fertilizer here, the entire ecosystem must be soaked with it! All we need is a way to extract it from the vegetation, ideally into a liquid form. RICK Right. Well, what about-- COWBOY Golly! So that's why my milk comes out that funny green color! I thought the grass tasted funny! Wow, Rick, you're a genius! JULIE (SMILES WARMLY) Good thinking, Rick. The freaks all nod in agreement. NOSEY Way to go, Rick! How did you ever think of such a plan? Rick pulls out an old comic book and points to an ad for Sea Monkeys. RICK Well, actually, I was going to suggest we send away for sea monkeys, train them to fire guns, and make a break for it. But if you want to go with this other thing, I guess that's okay. The freaks stare at him, not sure if he's kidding or not. CUT TO: INT. FREAK HOUSE - NIGHT FREAKS ON A MISSION MONTAGE, SET TO A POUNDING "EYE OF THE TIGER"-TYPE SONG -Nosey milks Cowboy, squirting the glowing milk into a funnel which feeds into a crude still. The Torch heats the boiler. -The Worm digs the tunnel. JulieErnie hand Rick pieces of wood which he puts into place as tunnel supports. They hand him Paul Lynde's corpse and he wedges it in as well. 67. -Everyone's getting into it and working up a sweat. Nosey wipes his brow, opens a bottle of Pepsi and chugs it down in a beautifully lit slo-mo product shot... The other freaks follow suit, including the Worm, down in the tunnel, who struggles to hold the bottle in his tiny feeler. Everything's going great and the song is really pumping when... ELIJAH runs out on his front porch in his nightclothes and screams down at the outhouse. ELIJAH WOULD YOU TURN DOWN THAT GODDAMN RACKET!? IN THE FREAK HOUSE Nosey turns off a boom box and the music cuts short. The freaks exchange tense looks. Nosey calls out apologetically to Elijah. NOSEY SOR-RY. (to the freaks) What a jerk! INT. UNDERGROUND TUNNEL The Worm burrows along, leaving a tunnel wide enough for Rick and JulieErnie to crawl after him. Rick notices a ray of light coming through a rock formation. RICK Hey, look at this! They all stop and look. Rick fingers the hole, and the rocks cave in, revealing A VAST UNDERGROUND CITY It's obviously a matte painting. WORM Good Lord! It's the Lost City of Nodd! JULIE Wow! 68. KER-CHUNK! We hear the sound of a slide projector switching slides and the underground city is replaced by a still image of some tourists standing around a geyser. [foriegn version: the Blarney Stone]. RICK It's Old Faithful! (foriegn take: "It's the Blarney Stone!"] They "Ooh" and "Ahh". The image switches to a snapshot of a FAT MIDDLE-AGED WOMAN. ERNIE It's my Aunt Gladys! The other freaks nod politely. The image switches to a BAR MITZVAH PHOTO. ERNIE And that's me at my bar mitzvah! RICK C'mon Ernie, let's go. ERNIE Wait, you gotta see the ones from sleep-away camp! They're hilarious! Julie smacks him. JULIE Stooge! EXT. FREAK COMPOUND - NIGHT It's an "Antfarm View" of the yard, where the freaks are visible tunneling underground, and Toad is visible on the yard above them. We see a bat fly overhead... ZAP! Toad shoots out his tongue, snags it out of mid air, and chews it happily, oblivious to the freaks burrowing right underneath him. INT. FREAK HOUSE Nosey looks at the nearly full container of distilled Noxon. NOSEY Almost there. (he sniffs the air) But wait, I'm getting a whiff of things to come! 69. BEARDED LADY What do you smell? NOSEY (GRIM) Blood. Bearded Lady looks grave..Nosey sniffs again. NOSEY (CHEERFUL) And hot buttered popcorn! BEARDED LADY Awwright! INT. TUNNEL They're burrowing along. Ernie loudly clears his throat. Julie spits out a loogie. She grimaces. JULIE I hate when you do that. We hear muffled BARKING. ERNIE Hey! Do you hear that? JULIE It's a dog! RICK (TO WORM) Hurry! The Worm breaks through into a small cavern with several exposed sewer pipes. A lovable mutt leaps out of a pipe and drops an old tennis ball in front of Rick. He starts licking Rick's face. RICK Scrappy! SAPPY MUSIC wells up. RICK It's been ten years since you chased this ball into the sewer! I thought you were gone for good! SCRAPPY Yap! 70. RICK Listen Scrap. Go home. Get help. Understand? SCRAPPY Yap! RICK Good boy! Now go! Scrappy runs away into the sewer pipe. Rick shrugs. RICK You never know. Julie taps on some exposed wood on the cavern ceiling. JULIE Look, a wood floor. WORM It must be the lab! we've done it! They all look at each other excitedly. Suddenly Elijah's voice rings out behind them. ELIJAH'S VOICE Not so fast, you scabrous freaks! They spin around and see Nosey holding the bottle of Noxon 24. He grins. NOSEY Didn't know I did impressions, did ya? INT. FREAK HOUSE The freaks are waiting around the hole. Nosey pops out. NOSEY Mission accomplished. They've got the Noxon, and they'll be in the lab within minutes. FROGMAN Boy, this is going like clockwork! Everyone smiles, pats each other on the back, etc. Except Sockhead, who finally snaps. SOCKHEAD No! Can't you see we're digging our own graves!? (MORE) 71. It's nuts, SOCKHEAD(cont'd) that's what it is! Nuts! Well, maybe you've all got a deathwish, but you can count me out! I'M GETTING THE HELL OUT OF HERE! He runs amok, pushes various freaks to the ground, and runs around screaming. The freak house door opens--Eye and Eye step in to check out the noise. One of them has a spliff sticking out of its pupil. Sockhead charges at them like a mad dog. They aim their Uzis. SOCKHEAD (at the Eyes) OUT OF MY WAY! RATTA-RATTA-RATTA! They spray an ungodly amount of bullets into Sockhead. He falls to the ground. The Eyes leave. The freaks gather around Sockhead. Nosey pulls the sock off his hand head, which is making a little "Senor Pepe" face with its fist. It spits up a trickle of blood and tries to speak. SOCKHEAD (WEAK) I... I... just... wanna...say... NOSEY What is it, kid? SOCKHEAD Ah, forget it. I'm not much for dying. He goes limp. CUT TO: INT. ELIJAH'S LAB JulieErnie, the Worm, and Rick are just emerging from the hole. It's really dark in the lab. ERNIE Shit. I can't see a damn thing. RICK Keep your voice down, Ernie. ERNIE Don't push me, Coog. I got a real short fuse today. I'm cranky, bloated, got a wicked case of cramps. Don't ask why. 72. JULIE (whispers to Rick) PMS... RICK (has to think about this) Oh.... Right. Rick pats Ernie on the shoulder reassuringly. He moves over to Elijah's computer terminal. RICK (CONT'D) Well, here it is--the control panel for Elijah's Freaking process. WORM Good work, my boy. Now step aside. This is scientist's work. Worm muscles Rick out of the way and sits at the console. Using a pen held in his mouth, he flicks a series of switches and punches a fast series of computer keys. The light on top of the Tasty Freekz machine starts to revolve, and after a couple of seconds, a stream of GOOEY LIGHT BROWN GLOP oozes out of the spigot. ERNIE Hey! It's working! RICK You did it, Worm! Way to go! JULIE But how? You didn't even use the Noxon. The Worm rushes over to the container of glop below the spigot, and without hesitation, plunges his face into it! Rick, Julie, and Ernie gasp in horror! The WORM lifts his glop-smeared face out of the bowl, and smacks his

blank

How many times the word 'blank' appears in the text?