(EMMA watches impatiently as he and the PORTER struggle to collect the luggage. Exasperated at their bumbling, she heads toward the house, followed by HELEN, doing her best to mirror her mother, though she can’t resist a backward glance at GEORGE. He catches her eye and grins rakishly. Like any proper young lady, she returns a withering glance, and trots huffily behind her mother with as much indifference as she can manage. GEORGE grabs a couple of valises and scurries after them. The PORTER limps behind him, carrying the rest of the luggage. EMMA enters the house, followed by the beleaguered PORTER, while GEORGE and HELEN linger outside for a few moments.)
GEORGE: I’m George.
HELEN: I believe you covered that already.
GEORGE: What’s your name, then?
HELEN: My name, then and now, is Helen Cunningham.
GEORGE: Please t’meet you.
HELEN: I do hope your conversation improves with time.
GEORGE: I play the banjo.
HELEN: We all have our own cross to bear.
GEORGE: Would y’like to hear it?
HELEN: Only if it is entirely unavoidable.
GEORGE: You’re a saucy one, ain’t ya?
HELEN: Do you really imagine any young lady enjoys being compared to a culinary condiment?
GEORGE: I like you.
HELEN: Luckily, that won’t last long.
(He is about to respond when EMMA calls to them from offstage.)
– Except from a play in progress by Carole Bugge
Residency Attendee, 2015