The Miracle Worker: Act II

ANNIE manages to achieve self-control. She picks up a fragment or two of the pitcher, sees HELEN is puzzling over the card, and resolutely kneels to demonstrate it again.

ANNIE. Any baby. Gibberish, grown-up gibberish, baby-talk gibberish, do they understand one word of it to start? Somehow they begin to. If they hear it. I’m letting Helen hear it.

HELEN thrusts her hands again, ANNIE catches them, and HELEN begins to flail and make noises; the interruption brings KELLER’S gaze upon them.

[HELEN bangs her toe on the chair and sinks to the floor, crying with rage and feigned injury; ANNIE keeps hold of her wrists, gazing down, while KATE rises.]

ANNIE comes over to his door in turn, removing her glasses grimly; as KELLER outside begins speaking, ANNIE closes the door on JAMES, locks it, removes the key, and turns with her back against the door to stare ominously at HELEN, kicking on the floor.

ANNIE, retrieving her plate, takes up a forkful of food, stops it halfway to her mouth, gazes at it devoid of appetite, and half lowers it; but after a look at HELEN she sighs, dips the forkful toward HELEN in a for-your-sake toast, and puts it in her own mouth to chew, not without an effort.

HELEN’S hand comes out to explore, and seeing it, ANNIE sits without moving; the child’s hand goes over her hand and fork, pauses—ANNIE still does not move—and withdraws. Presently it moves for her own plate, slaps about for it, and stops, thwarted.

[But KATE is moveless, until VINEY starts to take the baby; KATE looks down at her before relinquishing her.]

And still erect, with only her head in surrender, KATE for the first time that we see loses her protracted war with grief; but she will not let a sound escape her, only the grimace of tears comes, and sobs that shake her in a grip of silence.

KATE. Not ineffectual. Helen did fold her napkin.
KELLER. What in heaven’s name is so extraordinary about folding a napkin?
KATE [With some humor]. Well. It’s more than you did, Captain.

ANNIE stands as the door closes behind her, her manner so apprehensive that finally she slaps her brow, holds it, sighs, and, with her eyes closed, crosses herself for luck.

HELEN recoils, gropes, and touches her cheek instantly.

HELEN kicks her, breaks free, and careens around the room like an imprisoned bird, colliding with furniture, groping wildly, repeatedly touching her cheek in a growing panic.

ANNIE moves to comfort her, but her touch sends HELEN into a paroxysm of rage...

...she tears away, falls over her box of toys, flings its contents in handfuls in ANNIE’S direction, flings the box too, reels to her feet, rips curtains from the window, bangs and kicks at the door, sweeps objects off the mantelpiece and shelf, a little tornado incarnate, all destruction, until she comes upon her doll and, in the act of hurling it, freezes.