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Unit 23: One Act Play: Monkey’s Paw

“If you’ve had your three wishes, it’s no good to you now, then, Morris,” said the old man Notes
at last. “What do you keep it for?”
The soldier shook his head. “Fancy, I suppose,” he said, slowly. “I did have some idea of
selling it, but I don’t think I will. It has caused enough mischief already. Besides, people won’t
buy. They think it’s a fairy tale; some of them, and those who do think anything of it want
to try it first and pay me afterward.”
“If you could have another three wishes,” said the old man, eyeing him keenly, “would you
have them?”
“I don’t know,” said the other. “I don’t know.”
He took the paw, and dangling it between his forefinger and thumb, suddenly threw it upon
the fire. White, with a slight cry, stooped down and snatched it off.
“Better let it burn,” said the soldier, solemnly.
“If you don’t want it, Morris,” said the other, “give it to me.”
“I won’t,” said his friend, doggedly. “I threw it on the fire. If you keep it, don’t blame me for
what happens. Pitch it on the fire again like a sensible man.”
The other shook his head and examined his new possession closely. “How do you do it?” he
inquired.
“Hold it up in your right hand and wish aloud,” said the sergeant-major, “but I warn you of
the consequences.”

“Sounds like the Arabian Nights,” said Mrs. White, as she rose and began to set the supper.
“Don’t you think you might wish for four pairs of hands for me?”
Her husband drew the talisman from his pocket, and then all three burst into laughter as the
sergeant-major, with a look of alarm on his face, caught him by the arm.
“If you must wish,” he said, gruffly, “wish for something sensible.”
Mr. White dropped it back in his pocket, and placing chairs, motioned his friend to the table.
In the business of supper the talisman was partly forgotten, and afterward the three sat
listening in an enthralled fashion to a second instalment of the soldier’s adventures in India.
“If the tale about the monkey’s paw is not more truthful than those he has been telling us,”
said Herbert, as the door closed behind their guest, just in time for him to catch the last train,
“we shan’t make much out of it.”
“Did you give him anything for it, father?” inquired Mrs. White, regarding her husband
closely.
“A trifle,” said he, colouring slightly. “He didn’t want it, but I made him take it. And he
pressed me again to throw it away.”

“Likely,” said Herbert, with pretended horror. “Why, we’re going to be rich, and famous and
happy. Wish to be an emperor, father, to begin with; then you can’t be henpecked.”
He darted round the table, pursued by the maligned Mrs. White armed with an antimacassar.

Mr. White took the paw from his pocket and eyed it dubiously. “I don’t know what to wish
for, and that’s a fact,” he said, slowly. “It seems to me I’ve got all I want.”
“If you only cleared the house, you’d be quite happy, wouldn’t you?” said Herbert, with his
hand on his shoulder. “Well, wish for two hundred pounds, then; that’ll just do it.”

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